#but yeah it's saturday so the library will be slow
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good morning !! i woke up to like. 70+ notifications LMAO thank you for liking my work <3 !!
anyways, i'm going to be at work all day and it's most likely going to be slow and i'll have time to write, so please feel free to send in requests!! i'm still doing the "send in a kink/scenario + an idol from a group i write for and i'll write a drabble" thing so ..
it doesn't have to be 7dream by the way !! i also write for skz, txt, svt, and enha (hyung line), you can send them in too if you want!
thank u guys again for reading my silly little writings <3
#moon.memo#i got like. one ask while i was sleeping LMAO#but yeah it's saturday so the library will be slow#i might work a little on wips#but i wanna do some smaller pieces of writing for you guys#so you have some content and whatnot#so please don't hesitate to send asks or anything#i promise i don't bite LMAO
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like a french girl 🎨
part 3 - french girl | art major ellie x dance major reader
last chapter | next chapter
ao3 link
summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.
18+ MDNI | 3.8k words | slow burn(?), mutual pining, loser ellie, recreational drug use (weed)
a/n: this took so long because im an intp AND a taurus *makes excuses for myself*
also tysm to everyone who commented on the last chapter ur amazing and ily ♥
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Ellie’s in nothing but her underwear, legs criss-crossed on her navy comforter; holding a joint between her lips as she tunes the strings of her maple wood guitar. It’s a lazy Saturday, the one day out of seven where Ellie isn’t constantly tormented by homework and art projects.
These days are practically therapeutic for her. Being able to strum her fingers against the nylon strings and relish in the relaxing, skunky smell of cannabis can fix all of her problems. Minus one, of course: getting to know you better.
For now, she’s at peace with doing nothing, that is until a loud ding goes off and the brightness of her phone flashbangs her otherwise dim-lit room. She scowls, exhaling a puff from her lungs as she reaches over for the device. Ellie has friends, but she’s no social butterfly. Her phone is usually dry, especially on weekends. Jesse is definitely with Dina, so unless it's serious; there’s no reason for her to be getting a text.
Naturally, her scowl deepens when she reads that the number is unknown.
???: hii
ellie: wrong number
She opts to toss her phone away, but the next message throws her off track.
you: it’s — !
Ellie’s eyes widen at her screen like your name is a hypnotic spiral. She can feel her heart swelling well within her chest, and she’s left wondering if the weed she’s smoking is laced or if she somehow manifested you. Ellie quickly transfers her blunt in one hand and her phone in the other, straining her thumb trying to type as fast as she can to you.
ellie: oh hdy!
ellie: hey*
you: dina gave me ur number, i hope that’s okay
ellie: yeah ofc it is :-)
ellie: i was planning on giving it to you
Ellie typed that half-lie slowly, weighing how true it really was as she pressed send. It was on her plan of things she’d like to do before dying, but even then she doesn’t think she would ever gain the courage.
you: oh thank god
you: i thought i might be intruding 🙁
ellie: never, what’s up?
you: can i ask you something?
ellie: yes of course aks me anythign
ellie: ask* anything* shut sorry
ellie: SHIT
you: lmao are you okay??
ellie: yeah… forget about that, ask away
you: well i was wondering if you could help me study? im failing my anatomy class..
you: if u can’t it’s okay though!
A sheepish grin spreads across Ellie’s face, as she thinks about all the scenarios that could lead to. To think she’d finally have an excuse to see you after weeks of hoping, of praying for the opportunity. You asked her for help instead of taking other options, especially considering how much easier it would’ve been for you to.
ellie: its no problem, id be glad to help :-)
you: really?? ur a lifesaver els, tysmm
you: when are you free?
ellie: Right now.
ellie: or whenever .
you: let’s meet at the library in 20?
Almost instantly, Ellie’s excitement warps into anxiety. She wasn’t particularly ready to see you and twenty minutes doesn’t seem like nearly enough time to get her shit together. She thought you’d ignore her impulsive desperation of “right now” and set plans for a later date, but, alas, you didn’t.
Ellie rubs her forehead with her blunt holding hand, trying to scratch the itch of her worries away with just her pinky and thumb. Despite her increasing knowledge of you over the past few weeks, she was still incredibly nervous to be around you.
Ellie takes one final hit of her joint before snuffing it out in a doob tube on her nightstand. She sets her guitar against her bed and nearly falls off trying to get up in a rush, even though she has more than enough time to get ready.
She stumbles around the room to put something on, settling with a gray hoodie and a pair of jeans. She attempts to keep her balance as she hastily shoves each leg through her pants; simultaneously eyeing around her room in an attempt to remember where exactly she put her anatomy textbooks.
Ellie hears a familiar ding from her bed and she snaps towards it to pick up her phone, peering at the screen.
you: ellie?
Ellie curses under her breath, scolding herself for forgetting to text you back. She taps on the keyboard, quickly making sure she doesn’t manage another typo before hitting send.
ellie: sorry! yeah i’ll see you in twenty!
you: awesome :)
—
You weren’t ready to see Ellie either, you figured, since it took you hours to actually text her. You made up far-fetched scenarios with the worst outcomes; the one where she immediately deletes your number tormented you for quite a while. Now you’re trudging across campus to meet her, internally at war with your mixed emotions. On one hand you get to hang out with a cute girl and on the other you’re hanging out with a really cute girl. Alone. Zero friends around.
There’s a chance you two might not have anything to talk about. You guys are only mutual friends after all. Even if you guys somehow manage to start a conversation, what if she comes to not like you by the end of it, or vice versa? Not to mention the window incident you’re both hoping the other forgot.
You hesitate in your steps as you reach the library doors. It’d only take a few seconds to spin around and walk back, but how could you leave her there? You thoughtlessly chew on your lip, eyes worriedly shifting around.
You can’t recall any moment you’ve been so anxious about meeting up with a girl before. Not once, not even in a distant memory. You’ve always been the bolder one in your endeavors. The fact that Ellie is the only girl to make you feel this way has to mean something. You slowly pace in front of the doors in an attempt to dissipate your worries, nodding to your inner thoughts and ignoring the probable concerned stares in the distance. You’re the one who invited her, so you’re gonna stick it the fuck through. You couldn’t bail before testing the waters, you’d never forgive yourself.
So you barge into the building, letting the cool air hit your face from the swinging doors; granting you a waft of leather and drying ink. The building was decorated with freakishly tall dark wood bookshelves; so high, there were beige ladders in place to reach the top shelves. As expected, it was quiet, empty and definitely overfunded. Studying has never been your forte and you’ve never stepped in this building; save for a few dance history books. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for everyone else. Thankfully, one pro definitely outweighs those cons. Ellie was going to help you study. Ellie is the reason you’re here at all.
You tidy up your outfit that you diligently put together and roam farther into the library, trying to hold down a smile that’s impossible to hold down. In fact, it completely takes over your face. You need to simmer down your giddiness before you start skipping around. You purse your lips and briefly steady your eyes on the dark, olive carpeted floor ahead of you.
You head towards the front desk that’s just a sunken step away with the intention of asking for directions to the study hall. An older lady is sitting there, glowering with obvious annoyance definitely because of your loud entry. It’s been ages since you’ve been in the library— your failing grade proves that— and clearly you’ve forgotten all the rules with it.
A flash of guilt passes through you and you force an apologetic smile. She returns it with a grunt and you immediately redirect yourself further into the library; aimlessly in search for the study hall.
-
You’ve been walking around for a solid five minutes and you swear you’ve passed the same fantasy section a million times now. It’d be smart to text Ellie and tell her you’ll be late, but your ego won’t let you.
The looming large, ornate bookshelves certainly don’t make it any easier for you to navigate around.
The question of why the school spent so much money on all this occupies your mind as you venture further. You make a turn around a corner you’ve definitely made before, and you sigh at the familiarity of the area in front of you.
You keep pressing forward anyway, hoping you can manage a new route this time around.
Before you can make another turn, you’re interrupted by drowned footsteps behind you blending into your own, followed by a tap on your shoulder. You flinch at the sudden touch, sharply turning around only to see Ellie looking at you with a downward smile.
“Lost?” She sarcastically presumes, her viridescent eyes taking in your shocked yet relieved expression.
You fiddle with the straps of your backpack between your fingers, shyly glancing around you. “No, I was just… looking for more textbooks.” You nod sagely at your own words, as if you’re trying to convince yourself too.
“Oh? Next to—“ The auburn-haired girl squints at the shelf behind you before adorning a wide grin, “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?”
Your brows raise and you follow her eyes onto the obviously fiction-filled bookcase. “Uh, yeah? I’ve got Professor Snape at four.”
Ellie narrows her eyes at you in amused disbelief, trying not to laugh at your adorably dorky excuse.
Dramatically sighing in defeat, “Fuck, okay, you got me.” You say lowly, a bashful smile developing on your lips.
“You passed the study hall five times. I counted.” Ellie goads.
You partially suppress your laugh, mindlessly giving her arm a light smack. “Oh, my god. Don’t tell me that!”
She dotes on your laughter and your touch; whether it was intentional or not. Either way, she’s feeling good about herself now and her previous worries about this encounter floated away, and you could safely say the same.
“It’s a good book though, we can go back and get it. No need to be shy about it.” Ellie quips.
“Shush!”
—
With Ellie as your guide, the trip to the study hall was much easier than you made it out to be. You recognized the big glass windows you passed by often and when you stepped into it, you flushed with embarrassment. It was a direct contrast to the old-fashioned, mahogany colored library you’d been meandering around.
Ellie really could’ve counted the times you walked by, and she really did. The first time, she thought you must’ve seen a friend and left to catch up with them. However, the second time around she realized you might be lost.
She was going to text you and tell you to turn around, but she thought it was cute seeing you walk in circles, ignoring literally every sign in your way. By the fourth time, she could tell you thought you were in a time loop and she found it fucking hilarious. Someone like you, seemingly exceptional in everything but directions. The fifth time came and, of course, she decided she was being cruel and had to come help you herself.
Ellie leads you to the desk where she’s set camp at, and the amount of books and paperwork makes you dizzy. “Jesus, Els. Are you teaching me the entire course?”
She takes a seat before giving you an answer, “Well.. That depends on how bad you’re failing.”
You take a seat across from her, setting your backpack on the floor before resting your forearms on the oak table. “My teacher said I was dumb as fuck and essentially called me a homophobic slur.” You’re exaggerating, obviously, but that was exactly what it felt like.
Ellie scoffs out a sound, unsure of whether to laugh or be offended for you. “Damn... It’s Bill, isn’t it? God, that guy is a fuckin’ prick.” She questions, clearly unsurprised by his actions.
You sit upright in your chair, relief shining through your words, “Yes! Is that his thing?”
Ellie casually leans back, thinking back to when she was a student of his. “Oh, yeah. He’s a blunt guy, shitty filter,” She continues, and somehow you’re both meeting each other’s looks, “But he’s fair with his grades, n’ I know it doesn’t make it any better, but he has a husband. He’s just… old.. and grumpy.”
You try to consider that he is letting you retake a major grade. You guess you could appreciate that somewhat. “True... still, the comment was unprovoked. You must know him well though?”
“Yeah, I took his class last year. We were at each other's throats about coursework n’ shit. Really hard to reason with that guy.” Ellie purposely leaves out the part where she was being unreasonable too, but only for the sake of storytelling, of course. “Then that summer, I saw him at a family gathering.” She finishes off with a dramatic shiver in disgust and you laugh at how endearing it was.
“Anyways, his gaydar is somethin’ else. I can never tell.” She admits, carelessly waving a hand in the air. Ellie’s radar in particular is broken. Shattered, even. She can’t keep track of the amount of times she has stood in the shower, realizing a girl was flirting with her only days later.
“Even with me?”
“Even with you...” She speaks with artificial sadness and a slight sulk.
“Ouch… I’m wounded.” You fake a frown, slightly dropping your shoulders.
Ellie’s eyes fall to your nails; some suspiciously shorter than the others, and all painted in your favorite color. “But… that I know for sure, I can definitely tell.” Ellie comments.
A swarm of butterflies suddenly parade your belly, and you shine a coy smile her way. “They’re not short because of that…” Your half-hearted attempt to defend yourself drips in the lightness of your voice.
Ellie briefly raises her eyebrows with a sly smile plastered on her face, folding her arms over her chest; which, unbeknownst to you, was to shield how hard her heart was thumping. She’s shocked she hasn’t turned into a pile of mush yet, probably thanks to her smoke session earlier.
“I’m serious! I keep my hands to myself.” You continue on, putting in a little effort in your voice for your defense this time. For the most part it is true, lately your mind has been on Ellie, and Ellie only. The thought of random flings didn't excite you, but she did. However, it wasn’t not true that you’ve had a fair share of hookups. You’re in an art school, how could you not?
“C’mon, just yourself? I’m sure you've cared to share.” Ellie playfully pokes around you with her words; nonchalant and prone for a reaction.
Your jaw slightly drops, making your head tilt to the side incredulously. “Wow. What makes you think that?”
Ellie unfolds her tattooed arm to rub her palm against the back of her neck, responding unexpectedly timid, “Hey, ‘m not blind. I know you’re popular.”
You snicker at her explanation and shake your head. “They’re friends. You can be friends with girls even if you’re gay, Ellie.”
“Friends don’t touch you like that.” She notes with an uncharacteristically stern expression.
It surprises you for a second, but all it makes you wanna do is poke fun, tease her, and see where it’d go. “Like what?”
Ellie sighs, reluctantly explaining further, “Like they’ve touched you before.”
“Straight girls are touchy.” You shrug, purposefully ignoring what she tried to imply.
The way you said it so matter-of-factly makes Ellie’s eyes roll. “You know I don’t mean it like– ugh, my judgment is usually fucked up, but that? That I can tell the difference with.” Ellie states with surety.
You narrow your gaze at her, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “What are you jealous or something?”
“Of you or the girls?”
“Oh, the girls were an option?” You playfully remark, but also with honest curiosity in how she’d answer.
Ellie clears her throat and leans forward to place her textbooks into view, trying to hide the blush spreading across her features. She’s not doing a great job at it and you’d love to tease her some more, but you can settle with taking the win for now.
—
Night crept up faster than you both anticipated, the ambient sounds of paper printing and carts rolling by were no longer prevalent. The only thing filling the room is the buzz of the light fixture above and the words you two exchange. The table is cluttered with Ellie’s open notes and some textbooks with neon page markers poking out the sides. It wasn’t organized by any means, but it was a mess you both found easy to work around.
Surprisingly, Ellie is a great tutor. When she saw your paper, she didn’t make fun of you like you thought she would. Instead, she expressed how grating it is to remember all that crap and you shouldn’t give yourself a hard time over it.
To help you memorize the muscles of the body, you guys settled on one area and made up silly rhymes for it. She tried to argue that brachiosaurus was perfect for brachialis even though it didn’t even rhyme. You even gave her the chance to pick a different one, but then she said brachyceratops with a mockingly straight face and you knew she couldn’t be trusted for the task anymore.
The air between you two wasn’t stuffy or silent like you feared it’d be. Ellie made you laugh, not in the breathy forced way you’ve unknowingly gotten used to making.
She made sure you listened to her tips & tricks, made you review your mistakes so you wouldn’t repeat them again.
You hadn’t picked up your phone for anything other than to google things on the subject, and your ringer? Off. Your attention never strayed far from her. That made her undeniably nervous– sweaty, and hard for her to breathe normally, but she could acknowledge how well she was doing.
Ellie’s head is dipped down to a paper you two were working on and you’re openly ogling, wondering how she’d look in a pair of glasses. Flipping through papers, tapping the back of a pen on her inviting lips. You tell yourself you snap back to reality before your mind strays any further.
“If we keep this up, you’ll remember it all in no time” She encourages, eyes still glued on the paper. Secretly, she hopes it takes a little longer. Just a little.
“Thanks for helping me out, Els.” You say, face tilted into the palm of your hand.
Ellie looks up from the paper to give you a smile, but she doesn’t hold her gaze for long. A millisecond later and her blush would have you thinking she had a sudden, terrible fever.
“It’s no problem. It helps me out too.” Ellie points to the examples she sketched out for you with her pencil. She pauses before speaking again, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in her mouth, “Can I ask you something?”
Studying her expectantly, you lift your head off your hand. “Yeah?”
Ellie fidgets with her pencil, trying to muster up courage. Her mouth feels dry trying to push out the words. “I’m also struggling with a class and uh,” she twirls her pencil in one hand, tucking a sliver of her hair behind her ear with the other, “I was wondering if you could be the model for my art final?” Her question came out whinier than she’d like it to, making her freckled-face wince.
You can sense how nervous she is about asking, but you can’t place your finger on why she ever would be. This is the first time anyone has ever asked you something like this, so in your mind it’s nothing but exciting, especially coming from her. You can already imagine yourself sitting prettily still while Ellie studies you and paints long, fancy strokes on a yellow canvas. “Ellie, are you kidding? I’d love to.”
Her lashes flutter in disbelief, “Really?”
“You’re helping me, so why not? It’s fair.”
“It’s kind of a weird thing to ask. I mean, we barely know each other.” Ellie murmurs, unaware that you have absolutely no idea what she’s on about.
You lift a brow at her. “We will eventually, right? What’s weird about a portrait anyways?”
“It’s not a portrait… Well, I guess it is–“ Ellie sighs into her palm, “I’m drawing you, but…” She cringes before she can finish her sentence.
“A portrait in pencil? What am l missing?” You slowly question.
“Think Titanic.” She grimaces as she waits for your reaction, trying not to bang her head on the table for picking Titanic of all movies.
“Titanic? What does that have to do with…” Your voice trails off, quieting down so you can process what Ellie said. Think Titanic. It's hard for you to connect what the 1997 romance movie had to with this, but when it connected, it connected. The infamous drawing scene was memorable. You’re in awe, not quite sure how to react.
“You don’t have to be fully… y’know..” Ellie insists.
Your face is still unreadable, as if you're lost in thought, and it’s freaking her out. Too many what-ifs are going through her head, all of them gradually getting worse the longer you stay silent. She thinks she got too close to the sun when she had more than enough warmth. She's already preparing herself for rejection, worryingly scouting your face for a hint of revulsion; however, it never comes.
“Oh. Okay.” You calmly respond with a shrug, your face still unreadable; the only difference being a light smile. You could’ve thought about it longer, but you’re so flattered Ellie wants you to pose for her that you rather worry about it later. She wants to sketch your body onto paper. Yours. It sounds vulnerable and a little nerve wracking, but she’s your friend. A friend you have a crush on, sure, but you wouldn’t want to inconvenience her over it. Plus, you owe her now. Really, you’re purely being selfless. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.
“Okay?” Ellie repeats to make sure she was hearing things right.
“Like I said, you’re doing this for me, so I’ll do it for you.” You reassure, gesturing around to the study session laid across the table.
“Are you sure? You know I’ll still tutor you, even if you say no–”
“— Do you not want me to?” You pout your lips, hoping she hasn't changed her mind already.
“Are you shitting me? Of course I do. I just… didn’t expect you to say yes.” Ellie finally says, absolutely dumbfounded given her hand movements.
You laugh melodically, “Didn’t think that far, huh?”
“Nope.” She answers with a cute embarrassed smile, her blood rushing to her face.
Your phone buzzes, probably a text or notification. You reach out and shove a few papers to the side to get to it before taking a look, only for your eyes to be drawn to the time. “Shit. It’s late. I think the library closes soon…” You murmur regretfully, feeling all too comfortable where you were.
Ellie presses her tongue against her cheek in annoyance, upset that time dared to pass by as fast as it did. “We should get going then, I guess.” She says dejectedly, not wanting to leave you just yet.
You peep her suddenly gray aura and smile warmly towards her. “Can you walk me back to my dorms?”
She nods with subtle enthusiasm and pushes out of her seat, immediately packing all her belongings to join your side. “Yes! — I mean, sure. Yeah.”
—-
The lamp post lights are warm and waning, complimenting the shadows on both your faces. You two walk down the dark flagstone path towards the housing area, chatting about nothing. It’s nice to be able to spend a little more time with her before the night is over. Unfortunately, you guys were drawing closer and closer to your dorm and the feeling of loss came as quick as it left.
“Hey, Els?”
She glanced at you and hummed in response, giving you the signal to continue. “I was wondering if you were gonna be at some party tomorrow? Apparently Dina’s co-hosting it.”
Ellie looks at you quizzically before looking off elsewhere to think. “Why the fuck would they party on a Sunday?”
You snort out a laugh before lifting and dropping your shoulders, “I don’t know, senioritis or something. Will you come though?”
“Mhm, I’ll be there.” She smiles as she speaks, loving how your face lit up by the end of it. Ellie isn’t too fond of parties, but for you? She can make an exception.
You cheer in a whisper tone and it makes Ellie smile harder, her features creasing in adoration. You two finally approach your dorm building. You walk up a step before turning to wave goodbye. She raises a palm in return and you flash her a smile that makes her heart leap before turning into the building.
If Ellie couldn’t tell before, she’s completely enamored by you.
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a/n: fuck jk rowling but i rlly couldnt think of any other commonly known fantasy book :/
taglist: @bready101 @pascals-doll @macaroni676 @khai-le @pedropascalsbbg @seraphicsentences @starlight-savegery @snowy-vee @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @a-little-bit-of-everybody @elliesactualgirlfriend
#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie x fem reader#tlou2#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x female reader#ᝰ like a french girl
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GOOD GIRL READER X DEALER! ELLIE
a/n: thank you guys for the attention the first part got! seeing your reblogs and comments make me super happy haha tomorrow i will be working on all of the requests i've gotten :)))) hope you guys enjoy this part as well
cw: the slightest smidge of smut ever lol
ellie wasn't too sure how you managed to encapture her like this
studying was like a negative priority in her life, yet here she was at the library on a saturday, watching you scribble notes in your journal
since the time at the party, the two of you have been basically inseparable
she accompanied you when you wanted to go to the mall to get a pretzel
and you followed her around when she roamed around campus
she had a physics final in a couple of weeks but she didn't really care about that right now
seeing your concentrated look was far more important
she was looking at you when a guy came up behind her, tapping her shoulder
you look up from your journal at the sudden intrusion
"you selling right now?" ellie grimaced at this
"nah," she picks up a pen that she hadn't even realized was near her, "not right now." she looks down at her notebook hoping the guy got the hint
you smile at her as she looks up at you through her eyebrows
you don't know if it's because of your demeanor but since you have been hanging out ellie doesn't sell to people around you
she always rolled her eyes when the person would leave too
spouting a "fucking people, man" or "can't they see i'm with you?"
you guys were taking it slow until you decided you had enough of it
the two of you were sitting on her shitty little couch that was half broken from god knows what watching some sort of sci-fi movie from the 80s
she would laugh at the visual effects
you laughed at how nerdy she was to actually get enjoyment out of this
your heart was so full anytime you hung out with her
all you wanted to do was flaunt her around campus
that's when you decided to full send it
"do you want to be my girlfriend?"
ellie was laughing before you said that but her smile dropped almost instantly
you shifted your eyes around the room nervously awaiting her answer
it was like she malfunctioned for a split second
she looked at you with a look you couldn't quite place, "really?" she whispered
you nodded, "yeah."
"oh, thank god." she relaxed into the couch, hand grabbing your lower thigh and squeezing
she wanted to ask you that weeks ago but didn't know how you would've felt
she was actually the perfect girlfriend
you could always expect her standing outside your class to fetch you, even when it was an 8 am
she may have been wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with her hair literally sticking every which way
but she was still there
she would knock on your door randomly
when you opened it she would be leaning against the doorframe with a goofy smile, "wanna makeout in my car?"
there would be times you would show up to her room unannounced and it would be hazy with smoke
she would clamber around like you were her parents catching her, "fuck, babe. sorry!" her bong would be shifted to the side as she sprayed whatever was next to her to try and get rid of the smell
you didn't have to heart to tell her it rarely did anything
there were times you would be cuddling and someone would pound at the door
she would groan, getting up with an apologetic glance
she would grab the wooden box under her bed, taking it to the door to have a hushed conversation with whoever was on the other side
she would always come back with the money in hand and a smile gracing her face
"want mcdonalds?"
the first time you guys ever had sex she was so gentle
you noticed her hands shaking a little bit as she caressed you
obviously, you didn't say anything, but it was the cutest thing ever to you
she whispered the sweetest words to you as she continued to touch you so gently
"you are the best thing that could've happened to me," she kissed at your neck, "thank you for going to that one party."
it made your heart swell
there was one time she was knuckles deep in you, making you moan and writhe around under her
when a loud knock came at the door
she continued her ministrations, not caring until it got louder and louder
"els! you got anything?" the voice yelled from the other side
she continued fingering you, yelling a gruff, "no! fuck off!"
"you should," you let out a moan as her fingers circled your clit, "sell to him. it's important."
she scoffs, "no one is as important as you, pretty girl."
ellie was so good to you
she always put your happiness and comfort above anyone or anything else
you were so undeniably happy with her
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Sentence prompts, huh? Well, never let it be said that I'm not predictable...
"Oh sweetie - if you can't hold it anymore, just do your tinkles on teddy..."
-🐻⚡️
CG and potty-training Little are heading home from what was supposed to be a quick Saturday afternoon errand run: dropping things at the library, stopping by the grocery store, and then picking up some Thai food for tonight. Because they had meant to be out for 90 minutes, 2 hours tops, CG allowed Little to wear big kid undies, just this once! Little was so excited, they have yet to be out of the house with no padding since the potty training started! This will be their first test, and they're determined to prove themselves as a big kid. CG even asked them at the restaurant if they needed to go. Little knew home was a 10 minute car ride away, so they said no. They wanted CG to have no excuse to diaper them up for every outing like this. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans, and the two of them get stuck behind a car accident caused by some serious surprise road construction. No escape routes, no turn offs, no diapers, let's go.
CG: Whoa, what's going on up here? This wasn't here on our way down to the store.
Little: looks scary daddy!! *clutches teddy tightly* shiny stuff all over da road. . .
CG: Pieces of the car, yeah. Wow, looks like the clean-up crew just got here. We're gonna be sitting for awhile, Baby. Here, why don't you enjoy your bubble tea and watch a little Emperor's New Groove on Daddy's phone?
Little: really Daddy?? *bouncing in their booster seat*
CG: Yes, you've been so good for me and I don't want the accident to scare you. Go to your happy place, sweetie, I’ll call you back when we're ready to move.
10 minutes later:
Little: drinkie all gone Daddy! *wiggling with teddy* we almos goin home??
CG: Not yet, Baby. Looks like it's pretty complicated up there. Good job with your drink! Are you doing okay with your movie?
Little: *wiggling faster* hh- mm-hmm! how much longer till home??
CG: I don't know yet, Baby. Be patient for Daddy, okay?
10 minutes later:
CG: I know it's not fun, Baby, but it's gonna be okay, looks like the crew is about halfway done with their work. Can you keep being good for Daddy?
Little: umm!! wanna be good, wanna be big kid!! but um!! *hides face in teddy and plunges one hand down to hold tight against their baby parts, sniffling*
CG: Oh no! Does my sweet Baby need to make tinkles? And you were doing so well with your big kid undies, too!
Little: *crying and potty dancing in their seat with their hand on their undies* no fair!!!! ‘s no fair, Daddy, am a big kid!!! b-but needa make tinkles!! emerg-*hiccups, begins to wail* emergency!!
CG: Oh Sweetie, - if you can't hold it anymore, let's just do your tinkles on Teddy. Here, I’ll take him. Lift up your tush off the seat. Shhhh, it's okay, we’ll wash him at home.
Little: ahh! hhh teddy feels good, Daddy!! *wiggling and sniffling* woulda m-made it!! stupid cars!! stupidt road!! *crying louder again*
CG: I know it, Baby. This won't count against you for future big kid clothes, okay? For now, we gotta get those tinkles out before they start hurting. Come on, sweetie, you can do it. Can you show Daddy how you’d make peepee in your big kid potty at home?
Little: y-ye Daddy *reaches out to cling to Daddy's hand and sniffles once more before a loud hissing noise fills the car* ahhhh - m-makin peepee Daddy!! mmm teddy all wet!
Daddy: There we go, good Baby! That's Daddy's good, sweet Baby. Oh, that sounds like it feels good, sweetie. Are you feeling better?
Little: almos done peepee Daddy feels so good! *stream finally slows to a trickle and then stops while Baby shivers* hhhah all done tinkies!!
Daddy: And it looks like we’re moving again! Good job, Baby! Tell you what. You're right, that wasn't fair, and you didn't make a mess in your carseat. We’re calling this a success!
Little: really?? thank Daddy!! *bouncing on Teddy until Teddy squelches, then a little whimper*
Daddy: We’ll be home in 10 minutes now, Baby, but I have a question for you. Big kids get to choose, so when we get home, do you want to be cleaned up and keep wearing big kid undies? Or do you want soft, cozy protection after all of that? Keep in mind you won't have Teddy to snuggle for a few hours while I clean him up.
Little: ohh umm *hides face in hands* wan diapies Daddy, please!
CG: Of course, sweetie. You can wear your diapers, Daddy understands.
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Wip Wednesday!
Thank you for the tag @milla-frenchy 🩷
I’ve been working on a little Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller and Dark Shades of Innocence Lost this week. Making progress.
1. Dbf! Joel
Just when you almost get lost in your fantasies in your mind, Joel pulls you right back out. “I’ll race ya to the beach,” he smirks as he pulls open the back sliding door that leads to a winding staircase down to the beach.
“Bet I can beat you,” you giggle as you push him in the shoulder and race past him, barreling down the sturdy steps as you hear him laughing uncontrollably behind you.
“Cheater,” he laughs with a gravelly tone, “pushed right past me.”
You turn your face his way and stick your tongue out playfully. “Come catch me, slow poke,” you giggle. That just makes him sprint faster toward you.
You take off in the warm sand, your heart beating wildly inside your chest as you run toward the blue crashing waves of the ocean. You turn your head back around quickly and scream when you see him right on your heels.
“C’mere, pretty girl,” he chuckles. One more step and he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder while you squeak and try to escape.
“Joel, put me down!” you laugh, using every bit of strength in you to break free of his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got you in a tight embrace.
“Ain’t puttin’ ya down jus’ yet, baby. Nah, gonna jus’ take ya for a little dip in the water.”
2. Dark Shades of Innocence Lost
Suddenly, your phone lights up as it buzzes in your lap. You unlock the screen, and your eyes light up like a Christmas tree when you see Joel’s name scrolled across the screen. You giggle like a little school girl who’s about to get a handful of candy when you read his text.
Joel: Passed by the library today on my way to work. Made me think of you. Almost stopped in, but figured you’d already be off. Maybe I should’ve tried my luck. Might’ve got to see those beautiful eyes of yours in the sunlight. See ya Saturday, angel. ;)
You can’t stop smiling, your cheeks feel like they’re stretched to their limit as you curl your toes underneath you and squeeze your fingers around the delicate blanket. Joel sure knows how to make your heart flutter uncontrollably.
“What are you beaming about, hmm? Is it Mr. Club Owner?” Taylor laughs from the other side of the couch.
“Let’s see.” Brianna snatches your phone from your clutch, and you try to dive for it, but she holds it up to where you can’t reach.
“Bri, give it!”
“Oh, I was right. It is him! And holy shit is he obsessed with you. Look at how cute this text is, Taylor!” Brianna tosses it to Taylor, and she catches it with ease as she scrolls through your numerous texts with Joel.
Taylor practically loses it as she chokes on a sip of wine. “He called you beautiful! He can’t wait to see you again? And Christ, you guys have been texting a lot. Fuck me!”
You lean forward and grab the phone from her prying fingers and set it down underneath your fuzzy blanket. “Okay, guys. You had your fun. Happy?” you ask annoyed, rolling your eyes as you try to hide the flush of crimson that’s bright on your cheeks.
“Umm yeah, babe! He is totally into you!” Brianna squeaks as she tosses a piece of buttered popcorn your way. You dodge it and shake your head at her while she sets down her fizzy drink on the edge of the polished coffee table.
“You think so?” you giggle, biting your lower lip.
NP tags! @aurorawritestoescape @joelsdagger @alltheirdamn @vivian-pascal @lotusbxtch
@mountainsandmayhem @joelsgreys @burntheedges @sawymredfox @yxtkiwiyxt @604to647
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Transplant: Part 2/3
MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT! clicking readmore implies your consent!
Summary: You and Ezra get closer; Joel pines; Tommy interferes.
Part One: ao3 / Tumblr
The weeks tick by and you’re not as busy- once the snow melts, the standard visit predictably turns from common colds and finding hypothermic people in the snow and dealing with ice- related slips and falls to finding errant infected outside the walls and a few burgeoning pregnancies inside them.
You’re talking to such a patient in an exam room on Saturday when you hear the door in the front jingle. You poke your head out and call that you’ll be right there. You finish explaining the process of a termination to the terrified young woman on the chair in front of you and leave her to her decision. “I’ll be back in a few minutes hon. Let me know. You can take some time, but it’ll be harder to bounce back the longer you wait. It’s really early now.”
You come out to the waiting area to see Tommy, Cee, and Ezra in a row of seats, looking expectant. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”
Tommy stands and waves a hand at the newcomers. “We’re trying to find jobs for these two. Cee has some trauma care experience, as it pans out, and before the slavers took their QZ and put him in the mines, Ezra says he was a- an herbalist?” He frowns and turns back.
“Forager, primarily smuggling in medicinal herbs and growin’ weed outside the QZ walls,” he chuckles with an easy grin. “But I have a keen knowledge of medicinal and ayurvedic foliage, as well as how to cure tinctures and blend salves and the like. I believe if I'm partnered with someone with a gun until I can train up my off hand with such a weapon, I can be useful foraging and working in that arena.”
“Right,” you glance back at Tommy, eyebrow cocked. “I mean, me and Sam can definitely use another for rotation. You want me to train Cee up in medicine?”
“I’m thinking you train Cee up, and take Ezra with you when you go on foraging rounds with the patrolmen, and he can make the salves and tinctures and whatever. And otherwise he can help in the community garden? Sort of part time in both til summer and fall when you will have more trips out, switch in the late summer and fall to more garden work?”
You nod, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking. You turn to Cee. “I know you're not too squeamish, which is good. You have an interest in medicine, though?”
“I've always wanted to write, honestly. Not much use for it, though. So yeah, I can do medicine. I don't not have an interest,” she shrugs.
“Fair enough. Although people like reading, still. People are still people, kid. Art is a necessity, even in an apocalypse. Write in your down time, maybe we’ll put your stuff on the library shelves,” you wink at her shy smile and turn to Ezra.
“Come on, pothead. I’ll show you the shed.”
Ezra laughs and levers himself up, still a little tilted at the hips. “I must riposte that moniker, soleil. I said I grew the weed, I never mentioned partaking.”
Tommy waves you both off and disappears back outside to attend to whatever chore he has today.
“Forgive my disbelief. You have always seemed like a man looking for any way to enjoy some creature comforts where you can find them.”
He makes a face you haven't seen yet- a slow, easy grin edging on a smirk denting his cheek into a dimple. You're helpless but to roll your eyes with a barely-there huff and turn away, beckoning them both to follow.
You lead Cee and Ezra back through the clinic to the back lot, wedged in a narrow alley between your strip and the one behind. There’s a long shed there, painted a flaking olive drab. You unlock it and throw both doors open, revealing a long workbench on one side under a window, covered in neatly organized stacks of mortar- and- pestles and rows of Mason jars filled with plain salve or clear carrier oils. Bundles of dried herbs hang from the entire ceiling and the other three walls. The shelves along the long wall are filled with jars of dried, sealed herbs and little pots of distillates, tinctures, and resins.
“This is quite the operation,” Ezra says appreciatively, eyeing the bundles and variation, the jars lining the walls and tables. He nods to himself and turns to you with a smirk. “I’m happy to lend a hand.”
“The old lady who used to run the clinic with me was a bit of a chemistry nut. I got the feeling she cooked meth Before, honestly.”
It surprises a laugh out of Ezra, his dark eyes sparking with it. It makes you smile, and you catch Cee looking every bit a teenager, like she's watching her parent be as embarrassing as possible and would love nothing more than to flee the scene.
“Well. I gotta get back to my patient, I've left her in the exam room long enough. Come back Monday after you drop Cee at school and we can talk shop. I’ll see you on Saturdays only ‘til you're done with school, kiddo. Pay attention in science and math.”
“Sure,” she smiles easily, and Ezra takes the bait. He saunters out of the shed and they wait for you to lock up before you go back in. They wave and amble off down the alley and you go back inside.
The girl has her abortion that day after Sam gets in to cover for your disappearance into the OR. You give her some solace in the decision. She's only sixteen. One of Ellie's classmates and friends.
And it is, after all, the apocalypse.
_______________
Yarrow. Dead nettle. Clover. Stinging nettle. Fiddlehead ferns. Wild asparagus! Mushrooms galore (though you test them very, very thoroughly). Dandelion out the ass.
Ezra is certainly skilled at foraging. Skilled isn't strong enough a word for how he uncovers troves. Gifted, perhaps. Every time he comes back to you and the trio of horses, he’s got a newly- laden basket and a wide, smug grin.
You make sure to gift him back all the smiles and conversation he can stand, which is apparently an endless amount.
Every now and then you feel your escort Cam’s eyes on you from the edge of the lake some twenty yards away, fishing. Cam is Joel’s usual patrol partner because they're both brash, quiet assholes and no one else can stand being with them for a full shift. You're sure a running commentary will be belated on Joel’s next patrol rounds.
Joel as a whole subject nags at the back of your mind as you carefully saw off a veritable wall of oyster mushrooms on a fallen log. He had gotten spooked again, either by someone in town or his own built up walls, and you've been relegated back to stiff nods and barely- there glances, the shadow of him hiding behind his windows instead of escorting you through town when your shifts line up.
It chafes against all the easy smiles and conversation and escorting back and forth from your mutual street and the clinic that Ezra gives you these days. All the attention and kinship.
Part of you thinks that the most-recent wedge Joel drove between you and him is because of Ezra. Because of whatever that patrolman said that got under Joel’s skin. You know he harbors doubts about being enough, a lot of the time. Enough for Ellie, for his brother. Not being enough for his daughter Sarah, who he lost on outbreak day. Because after he declined to share your bed the day you escorted Ezra home was one of the last times you’ve seen him in the flesh, let alone held a full conversation with him.
Ellie still walks home with you plenty, but like any kid she’s absorbed in her own world. Which is good, you don't need or want to drag her into yours. You talk to Ezra and she talks to Cee, and you split at the road between your houses, and you divide again at the fence line. Sometimes he’s a shadow in the window, and sometimes she pauses to use her key to get inside.
The next day is the same; meet Ezra on the road and walk to the clinic, sometimes he leaves you there with a wink and heads for the nursery and sometimes he goes through the clinic with you and exits out to the shed and meets you back in the hallway for meals. You both walk home with the girls and split at the road. Day in, day out.
One day he asked you to come over for dinner.
“Anytime, not- not now, if it’s not convenient. You know best where to find us,” he smiles, and ducks his head and meanders off.
You blink down at the bed of dandelion you’re uprooting and suddenly he’s back in front of you with a fresh basket dangling from the loose curl of his fingers down by his thigh, watching you curiously. “Where did you fly off to, sol- chérie?” his curls float softly on the wind, that white tuft flashing, softly framing his deep, round eyes.
You huff a laugh at yourself and shake your head. He’s managed to find a few fat morels and another bundle of purplish- tipped asparagus.
“Dinner,” you say, and smile up at him, The sun frames a halo round his head and he grins, the brightness of his simple anticipation overtaking the sun itself.
“Were you, now?”
“I was,” you reply. He sets down his basket and offers you a hand up. You take it, and stand.
“I would like that.”
In lieu of answering, you dump your basket of dandelion flowers and greens into a satchel and stand. “I’ll see if Cam hasn’t caught a fish or two, since he's over here being a useless guard,” you tease loudly, earning the lazy ire of your gunman and escort. “Keep foraging?”
Ezra nods, squinting at you in the bright spring sun, and flashes that dimple.
Hours later, when the sun is setting and you’re riding the Whiskey and Rye back, closely followed by your gunman on his mount, Snickers, their saddlebags laden with tightly-bound bunches of herbs and a satchel of fish, Ezra pipes up.
“You can tell me it's none of my business, soleil. But what is the deal with you and your neighbor? I don't want to go crossing any boundaries,” he clarifies at your frown. You scowl at the back of Cam’s head and clear your throat.
“Nothing. Used to be, I guess. If you could call it that. ‘f you could call it anything. But he’s riddled with trauma, like most of us. And he stepped back. So, nothing,” you shrug. “No boundaries to cross, far as I'm concerned.”
Ezra is quiet for a stretch, pondering. You squint back at him, swaying along with Whiskey’s steps, and smirk. “I’m not hurt by it. He’s never been easy, and we had an understanding. An arrangement, more than anything. And he’s drawn back. It's not like we divorced and he kept the kid,” you snort. “I promise. I don't even owe alimony or anything.”
That finally draws a chuckle from Ezra, and you grin back at him, feeling like you won something. “Don't get a complex about it. And don't be afraid of him. He just looks tough. Big old baby, if you ask me.” You smirk when you see Cam’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh.
Ezra shakes his head and cocks a brow in your direction. “I am sure he is to you, soleil. Many men are prone to mirroring such domestic softness when presented with it. I have no doubt you were a gentle landing, while it lasted. From what I've heard from the women at the nursery and the men at the mess hall, he cuts quite the ah- intimidating figure across town. But alright. I won’t ask again, unless it seems relevant.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m probably the only person here aside from Tommy who’s never actually been afraid of him.”
“Had him made from the start, did you?” Ezra chuckles. “I would not be surprised.”
“Hard not to when he and Ellie showed back up the second time half dead and barely speaking to one another. I had them both on IVs for days, regular checkups, like I did with you. One thing led to another, et cetera.”
Ezra hums and is quiet for a stretch. “His girl and Cee are getting on like a house fire.”
“Ellie. She’s a good kid. She’s gay as the trees and smart as anything. What about Cee?” You cut him a gimlet eye and Ezra throws his head back with a laugh.
“Heaven above, soleil, I have wondered, a-haha! Maybe.” He shrugs. “She hasn’t said, but I do hope she knows I wouldn't care for her any less either way. I have long been somewhat ambivalent regarding the gender of my own partners, when I have such pleasures in this life, so I can’t see why she would hide anything from me.”
“You’ll find out soon enough, whether she sneaks off with Ellie or starts bringing a boy ‘round.”
“I imagine, based on getting to know her– in captivity of course, and then now outside of it– that Cee will do no such thing. I believe when she finds a partner, she’ll be all about sneaking off with them, not luring them home. Either way, as long as she is safe, I can’t say much.”
He grips the reins in his fist and shifts his weight to glance back at you just a foot or two behind. Not having much to say to that, you offer a friendly smile, which he returns.
“So what shall I prep for dinner, soleil? We’ve got a good handful of trout in our friend’s bag, and greens for days. The grocer should have potatoes from the nursery by now? I dug some up two days ago.”
“Definitely the asparagus. That’s the highlight of the day’s finds for me.”
Ezra hums and agrees. “I do have to admit, the buggers are hard enough to find that it feels like a veritable goldmine when you find a patch.”
The gate crew let you in and you ride the horses to the stable, making sure they got a treat each for their trouble. Cam makes himself scarce with the wall crew, and you squash the immediate feeling that the gossip has already begun. After offloading the herbs into the shack for the next week’s work, you and Ezra deposited most of the edible forage and fish at the mess hall and started the trek to Rancher Street.
You split at your front gate, accepting Ezra’s offer to come over after cleaning up.
“Gimme an hour,” you say with a smile, and he nods with one of his own, dropping a kiss on your knuckles. You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and watch him go across to his own house, swinging the basket with what’s left of your finds.
When you turn to go up your own steps, you miss the stir of the curtain in Joel’s front window.
_______________
“The hell’s wrong with you?” Tommy asks, thunking down a condensating glass with two fingers of whiskey rimming the bottom. Joel scowls at him and takes up the glass, swirling it instead of drinking.
“Don't know what–”
“You damn well do. You were doin’ real good here for a long time, ‘n now you're back to being a cranky old asshole constantly, snapping at the patrolmen and eating barely anything and bein’ a fucking hermit. What happened?” Tommy drops onto a stool across the table at the Tipsy Bison and props his elbows on it.
“Is it Ellie?”
Joel rolls his eyes in lieu of answering. Tommy just frowns.
“Is it Sunny?”
“Why in the fuck would it be her?”
Tommy scoffs and shakes his head. “Brother, you’d have to be blind or dumb to not see that you two had been fucking for a while. You break up with her?”
A muscle rolls along Joel’s jaw as he presses his molars together. He takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “There was nothing to break up.”
In answer, Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. “So let me lay this out. You and your curmudgeonly old ass managed to get genuinely the nicest person in town into a friends- with- benefits situation, then dumped her, and still have the audacity to be an ass about it? While she’s out here keeping the town afloat and healthy every day like it’s all fine?”
“Tommy–”
“Did she dump you?”
“Tommy! I–”
“You know big brother. Sometimes I have to wonder how you turned out quite this damned mean. If anyone deserves the ass- end of your temper, it sure as shit ain't your kid or Sunny, of all people.” He dumps the rest of his drink into Joel’s glass and moves like he’s going to get up. “How long ‘til you’re begging for her back?”
Joel stares at him for a long moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.
“Probably not long.”
Tommy nods, snorting a noiseless, mirthless laugh. They're quiet for a long minute, and then: “She’s with the new guy now. I think. Went to his after they were outside the walls all day.”
Tommy arches a brow and hums. “Ezra’s nice. Don’t know much about him other than he’s sweet on her and good to his kid, works hard at the nursery and the herb shed. Maybe she’ll give it a go, decide that being a side piece for some old man dick isn’t her style after all.”
He laughs at the flat, dark look Joel gives him.
“If he's better for her, and she wants him, she should stay with him. I dont- I don't know if I could let another one in, Tommy.”
Tommy nods, finding the conversation unfortunately familiar. He heard something similar the first time Joel showed up in Jackson. It was just as heartbreaking then. “I think you should have learned by now to stop making your girls’ decisions for them, first of all. Secondly, what if she wants you both?”
Joel frowns like it's the wildest thing he's ever heard.
“I mean it. It suits your need to have that stupid- ass self-serving boundary up around your heart. And she gets the domesticity and affection she probably wants from him. Everyone gets laid and gets what they need. Might not be the worst idea.”
In answer, Joel just scoffs and downs his drink. “Maybe.”
“You best get to crawlin’ then, brother.”
_______________
Dinner was delicious.
Despite losing a hand and spending years as a grunt on rations, Ezra's bred-in southern skills in the kitchen had not waned a bit. He had Cee help him clean and filet the fish, which he pan-fried in a bit of oil and herb. (She had rolled her eyes and, after asking if he needed any more help for his date, made herself scarce. If he noticed the door across the street slam and a little brown head bobbing along by her golden one, he didn't mention it to anyone, after).
He roasted a handful of small potatoes and carefully blanched and roasted the asparagus. By the time he saw you walking across the road in a clean outfit, your hair coiffed and face fresh, he was turning off the elements and washing up.
You ate, and talked. Mostly about Before, but some about after. Friends you’d each made and lost, family that hadn't made it, or if they had, were still far off.
Ezra was from honest- to- goodness Cajun country. He had grown up trilingual in Acadia, Louisiana with a rooted Cajun father and Chilean immigrant mother. He was well- read and had been a freshly-graduated geologist working his first job with the national parks service in Yellowstone before the outbreak.
With no way to reach his family clear across the country, he’d stayed on in Wyoming. He eventually went with his ever-shrinking work group across to Bozeman’s QZ with the intent of continuing southeast on one of the work transfer convoys between QZs. A few had died from infection or raider attacks on the way to Bozeman, and the rest is history.
“A geologist. I bet they liked you in the mines in Bozeman, then, eh?” You asked, and his answering smile was only a little brittle at the edges.
“They did, which was not to my benefit, mind you. Even though my education and training was primarily regarding the dating of prehistoric stratum and lava flows, I was good at finding the ore the slavers wanted, even the little threads. They never would have let me go, you see? So I had to find a way out– for her. Even if it was the last thing I did. She had no one left to help her.”
“Awfully loyal of you,” you comment, resettling your weight in your seat beside him on the sofa. Ezra hums.
“Maybe. But when one has naught left to live for, what's a spare bit of loyalty for a friend. Especially to save them?” he basks in your soft, slow smile.
“Besides, she saved me, too. I forfeited myself to those smugglers, knowing full well I'd die, slowly and terribly, only hoping she’d run. She didn't, tough little thing. She just hid and shot ‘em when they were focused on trying to hold me down and hack my damned arm off. And then dragged my unconscious person for days to find help. What little I did to get us outside those walls wasn’t all that effort, really.”
“Ezra. It’s okay to be grateful to a child. You saved one another from a truly terrible ordeal, and now you’re safe.”
He hums and swirls the now-cool herbal tea he has cupped against his chest. You’re both at odd ends of his couch, knees up on the seat and facing one another. The sun is finally going down outside, nearing full spring now, with longer, hotter days looming.
“Soleil,” he says, and sets his mug on the upturned crate in front of the sofa, acting as a coffee table. “Allow me to press my luck a bit. If you are free to do so, and interested, I would very much like to kiss you. Or- or simply hold you, if that is not too impertinent a request.”
You can’t help the smile that stretches your cheeks to almost hurting as you copy him and set your own mug on the table. “Just one?” You tease, sliding forward on your knees until you’re on your right hip, knees against the back of the couch, your whole front leaning into his. It opens his left side up to hook his arm around you, his armless right side against the couch backing.
You’d give anything to get a picture of his face right this second, as you lean in, to keep forever. His dark eyes drop wide, soaking you in, and he leans down to carefully put his face in your path, still asking. In answer, you tip your chin up and let your lips meet in a chaste press, only the tiniest bit wet in the center.
“I may– need more than one, soleil,” he admits, and you huff a laugh. “Will you– mmff,” you cut him off by pulling his chin back toward you, opening up and letting him finally lick inside.
You both taste like tea and it’s warm and wet, something terribly soft and domestic that you haven't had in years. That you hadn't even remembered wanting in years.
The angle is awkward and both too far away and yet a link is developing in your neck from curving it. Ezra’s arm clutches you to him, his hand tight on your side and other shoulder moving, wanting desperately to pull you even closer, it seems. In response, you get onto your knees above him and pull away.
“Can I?” You ask, indicating a straddle, and his eyes blow wide, a pink tongue appearing to wet his lips.
“Christ, yes,” he pants, and you can't help another pleased smile as you throw your leg over his lap and settle down on his thighs. “You’ll tell me, soleil, chérie, if I get too ah– handsy. It has been. Years, actually, since I've been on the receiving end of such compassion.”
“Ezra,” you say firmly, tipping his face up to yours with a hand in his hair. Your other hand cups his chin, ticks a thumb over the silver half moon scar under his eye. “I will. Shut up and kiss me.”
“Ouais, soleil,” he mutters against your tongue, laving his own against it before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth to scrape it.
Long minutes pass, your hands in his curls, steering him and pulling back to tease with little sips against his panting mouth. His hand grips your ass a scant second before he hauls you closer, grinding you properly against his hardness.
“You are teasing me, radieux. Tell me if–”
“I said I would. Same goes. Where’s Cee, since we’re on the damn couch, like a couple of teenagers?” You ask, licking your own puffy, tender lips as you reach between you, deftly sliding your fingers behind the button of his jeans. You feel his belly hitch, as if ticklish, and snap your gaze back up to his.
“I’m not exactly sure. She went out with Ellie. But she’s usually back by dark.”
You both glance out the window to see it’s getting dim, the skuly going grey and orange and pink. “I have to stay at my house,” you say, accepting another kiss as Ezra sways back into you. He frowns, his brow furrowing against your lips, but lets you go easy as anything. You snort a laugh and push back, taking your fingers out of his jeans.
He frowns harder, pouting up at you.
“I’m the only doctor, sweet boy. And we don't have phones. They gotta know where to find me, if I'm needed overnight.”
“Ah, that’s alright,” he says, and manages to look only a little put out.
It makes you giggle again, a breathy thing that doesn't dampen your smile at all. You curl your fingers in the scruff under his chin and tip his face up again, against the backing of the sofa, and lean your chest against his. Ezra licks his lips furtively and swallows against your knuckles, relaxing back into the sofa as you press all up against him. His hand latches around your hip, holding you close.
“No one said you couldn't come to mine, though. Leave a note for Cee? Will she be okay?”
“Ah– I'd hate to spring it on her the first time, her just come back to an empty house and a note. She’s still a little jumpy. She’ll be here soon though, and I'll ask how she feels. If you want,” he adds, unsure if the moment has passed. He’s hard as a rock under you but you’re still in your jeans; he can’t tell if you're slick already or not.
He wants to think so.
You slide off his lap but stay close, allowing him to keep one leg stretched across his knees while you trade more questions and stories.
Ezra is spinning a tale about his cousin’s shrimping boat and a massive boil his whole family had done after. The phrase shrimps as big as a baby’s arm is bandied about, and then there is a clatter of boots on the porch.
Cee flings open the door, with Ellie on her heels. They're both grinning ear to ear and giggling but freeze when they spot you both on the sofa.
“Oh, hey.”
Ezra raises a brow and smirks. “Hey yourself.” He hangs his head to the side to peek around her. “Hello, Ellie.”
She waves. Cee frowns at you and Ezra. “We figured you’d be uh. Upstairs. Or out.”
Ezra and you both snort at her awkward hint. “As a matter of fact I was waiting on you. Didn't want to hike off and leave you alone, overnight, without warning. I assume that's not an imposition, then?” He leans his head to the side and peers at Ellie. “Your dad say you could stay?”
“He’s not–” she gets cut off by both your sharp frown and Cee’s excited interruption.
“Joel said I could stay there, actually. I was coming to get some sleep clothes.”
“Ah.” Ezra turns and glances at you, and you shrug.
“Alright. Well I'll be across the road if you need me. At Sunny’s,” he clarifies. “So I guess next door to you.”
Ellie isn't fazed but Cee makes a face and makes for the stairs to go up to her room. “Gross. See you tomorrow, then?”
Ezra chuckles. “You better get to school on time tomorrow. Other than that, you two have fun,” he smiles at her exaggerated eyeroll and winks at Ellie when the girls clop noisily up the stairs.
By the time they clatter back down with a stuffed backpack and matching grins and giggles, you're waiting by the door while Ezra waters his sprouting seeds on the patio out back.
“Be safe,” Ellie teases, ducking your harmless swipe.
“Same goes,” you tease, making a two-finger V in front of your mouth and giving her a salacious wink. Predictably, she turns beet red and scowls at you. Cee is busy tying her boots, thankfully oblivious to your gesture. By the time she's upright, Ellie has schooled her face and painted on her usual careless smirk, despite the pink dusting her cheeks.
“Have a good night, girls. See you tomorrow after school, Cee,” you wave them off. They hop off the last step of the porch just as Ezra comes back inside. He washes his hand and dries it, shoves his feet into his boots, tucks his keys into the pocket of his backpack, and lofts an eyebrow at you.
“Ready, soleil?” he slings his bag over his empty shoulder and laces his arm through the other strap.
It’s hard not to think of Joel while you're escorting another man to your house with every intention of sleeping with him. The fact that Joel is next door playing parent with the girls, including the ward of the man you're taking home to fuck, quite possibly peeking out of the curtains watching them (or you) walk across... You have to wonder if he's letting Cee stay because of Ellie, or because it gives him an easy excuse to keep hiding from you.
What if he sees you letting Ezra in? Or catches you both leaving for the clinic in the morning?
Does it fucking matter? When he's the one who stepped back, and left you hanging?
Should it?
Ezra interrupts your thoughts by catching your hand and holding it gently, tucking your fingers between his in a light squeeze with an easy smile.
Your heart thuds, delighted, and you squeeze back.
_______________
The second you close and lock your front door, Ezra's mouth is on you. He drops his bag and kicks his boots into the tray beside yours, pressing you slow and easy into the wall by the coat hooks, his hand curled protectively behind your head. You laugh into the kiss, feeling ridiculous and joyful.
He isn't pushy, or demanding. Not that you mind those things at all, with the right person delivering them to you.
Instead, Ezra tucks his fingers under your chin and tips you up, and sups a sweet, lingering kiss from your mouth. With his chest and belly keeping you upright between his long, lean weight and the wall, your knees soften and he is there, holding onto you with a low chuckle.
“How about you show me the way to your room, soleil, and I'll keep makin’ those knees weak. Once you don't need ‘em, of course.”
You snort and finish taking off your outerwear, leaving your keys hanging on the designated hook. You check the back door and leave a low light on in the kitchen, leading him up to your room.
Your house is the strange little cottage on your road, one of the oldest in town and obvious for that fact. It's an old A-frame with an abutment built at the edge of what would have been a forest before the land was cleared and developed decades past. The bottom level is a large open den and kitchen with a full bath tucked under the stairs and a small spare room to the other side. Up a narrow set of stairs, the loft is an open bedroom, where you prefer to sleep so you can hear everything in the house. If someone comes banging, asking for your care, you’ll hear it.
You lead Ezra to the stairs and push him up ahead of you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, one sec. Go get comfy,” you say, and dash under the stairs to the doorway. You scrub your teeth and hands and run a wet rag over your bits and pits, hoping for the best.
If he didn't care about your breath or scent an hour ago, he won't now, you reason, and go back out to climb the stairs.
Upstairs is a large flat space, taking up half the room below it. There’s a toilet in a closet up here but no bath. Your bed and a dresser is up here, along with an old mirror and your chest of spare blankets. Your bed is soft and big enough for two. Ezra is stretched across it, above the blankets and still dressed.
“I wasn't entirely sure of your intentions, soleil. I want you to be explicit in your demands, and also to be aware that I do intend to court you beyond anything that happens tonight. If you don't want that, you best tell me now before I find myself acting the fool.”
“Ezra, shut up,” you giggle, pulling off your socks and undoing your jeans, leaving them open on your hips. “You are free to court me, you old rake.” He grins at your playful insult. “I don't mind casual. But I like you. And I think I'd like more, if you do, too. Sounds like it,” you shrug, and he nods fervently.
“I do, chérie. Any night I can sleep by you, hold you, would be a night well spent. And any day workin’ alongside you, or catching lunch at the mess hall. Or being out foraging,” he smiles wide and soft, his dark eyes fathomless pools. “Come here, please. Let me love you.”
You shuck your clothes and crawl onto him, letting Ezra claim your mouth while you work on his jeans and push them down his hips. He lifts them obligingly, kicking out of the garment once you get it to his knees. He tips upward and lets you pull his shirt up and off, leaving you both blessedly naked.
“Anything you don't want?” You ask against his mouth, already panting. Your slick has to be soaking his thigh by now from rutting, from how wet you've been since he’d asked to kiss you so sweetly.
“I’ll take anything you want to give,” he sighs, his hand ghosting up the curve of your ribs, marveling at your soft skin. He thumbs an errant scar here and there, evidence of life outside these walls, and kisses you again. “I want to taste you,” he says, pulling on your hip. You start to roll off so he can spread you on your back, but he tightens his grip.
“Sit on my face, soleil. I want to use my hand, and I won't be able to if I have to use it for balance.”
“Ezra,” you chastise, thinking of your weight and the mangled state of his face the day you met him, months ago now. His nose should be healed, you think fleetingly. He chases the thought away with another wicked kiss and tugs on you again.
“Come on, I would like nothing more than to be smothered in you, soleil.” He nips playfully at the inside of your knee as you give in and crawl upward with the urging of his hand on your hip.
With your knees bracketing his head and your feet tucked around his shoulders, Ezra urges your weight down. You had done this before, but it had been a long time. Joel preferred to have you against a wall, your legs over his shoulders, or under him, spread out and boneless.
Ezra wants to make it clear that he’s there to service you, in the most efficient way possible for him to do so while missing a major limb. You on top, controlling the pace and hopefully still going boneless enough to properly sit on him (if he can weaken your knees enough) that's what he wants. Suffocate him, he won't complain with a single syllable.
Ezra nuzzles into you, spreading your lips with his sharp nose gliding smoothly through your slick folds, his flattened tongue following to lap your honey up. He laves against your clit and sucks on it firmly before moving back down. You gaps, rocking your hips for more, giving in to his demanding hand on your hip. He pulls you down further so he doesn't have to reach.
He spears his tongue up into you, drawing more slick out to spread it around, encouraging you to thrust against his nose and chin. The scruff of his cheeks tickles your thighs, his mustache zinging little bursts of pleasure when you rub your clit over his open mouth.
“Oh, fuck– Ezra, I want you in me. Too empty,” you whine, clenching around nothing. He obliges with a groan, sliding his tongue back into you and bringing his hand up.
“Come back a bit, soleil. Let me suck you while you ride my hand,” he grits, impaling you with his two middle fingers, curling them with devastating agility against that spongy spot inside. In the next breath he sucks your clit between his lips, kneading it and then rubbing his tongue along the tender pearl inside until you're throbbing. You’ve got a hand fisted in his hair before you know it, your panting sounding far too loud in the loft.
Slick paints his cheeks and chin, threatening to drip down the curve of his neck as he works you. Ezra’s own stiff arousal is neglected, bobbing in the cool air as his hips stutter helplessly upward. He notices you turning to wrap a hand around him and makes a loud slurp as he detaches from your mound.
“Leave it, chérie. I want you to focus on feeling this right now, I want you to come, then you can do whatever you like. Come, now,” he demands, pulling you back to him. You curl your nails back in his fringe and buck on his fingers as he slides them back into you, three this time– pressing deeper and curling more firmly. He laps at your clit with the flat of his tongue, worrying it like a lolly.
Abruptly, with a strangled cry, you shatter around his digits.
“So good, chérie, give me all that cream. Squeezing me so tight, oh–” Ezra gives you a final lick, murmuring praise against your mound until you sit back and crawl down between his knees.
“Gonna suck you,” you gasp, still shivering back into your skin.
There’s nothing for it- Ezra’s got a stupidly beautiful package. It matches the stupidly cute look of shock and adoration on his face.
His cock is the perfect weight on your tongue, a nice handful, girthy and perhaps seven or eight inches. The ruddy, pinkish brown foreskin cups his ccokhead tightly, offering a smooth glide as you tug on his length a few times and press a kiss to his weeping tip.
“Oh shit. Oh, please soleil. I won't last a minute. I’m far too- worked up!” He chokes, hips stuttering when you lick up the rib on the underside.
“How long has it been, Ezra?” You ask, your voice like smoke. He blinks at the skylight above your bed, trying to think.
“I– years? Probably– oh shit. Probably two years?”
Instead of responding, you suck him down expertly and squeeze your tonsils around his tip. A desperate groan presses up out of his chest, his hand scrabbling in the sheets. You catch his wrist and bring it to your head, letting him hold on.
A little clumsily, he twines his fingers in your hair, not pulling intentionally but keeping you close. You bury your nose in the base of him, swallowing, and he groans, thighs flexing as he fights not to buck up and choke you.
“Oh, christ– soleil you– you’re so good. Oh, fuck!”
You pull off him and stroke a few times, teasing the weeping tip with your tongue and lips while he writhes, panting praise and gasping. It makes you feel surprisingly powerful, reducing a man to this, and you relish in it. A few more strokes of your tongue, a bit more suction and he's begging, asking you to pull off if you don't want it in your mouth. In answer, you press your nose into his pubic hair and swallow, taking him whole as he pulses on your tongue.
After, when he’s boneless and well- sated on your bed, you lay on his shoulder and twirl your fingertips through his sparse chest hair. You finally ask:
“Two years since you had a blowjob?”
Ezra chuckles sleepily, scrubbing his hand down his face and dropping it back to drape over your side. “I don’t think you understand exactly what kind of mess I'm coming from, chérie. The fact my dick is still even attached is a miracle after what those smugglers did to me. Wasn't much chance for using it in the mines, either. They worked us twelve or eighteen hours most days, and I slept in the shafts half the time. There was an inherent lack of desire, to be honest. That level of terror and anxiety, day in and day out, it takes its toll. All that aside from the fact that the girls in the brothel were practically children, and often far from willing. I had a - friend, I suppose, and we found some mutual stress relief in one another. When they died in a shaft collapse, I didn't expend the effort to replace them.”
You're quiet for a long moment, petting and relaxing. It doesn't feel right to apologize; he’ll just brush it off as pity, which doesn't fit right. You roll away a bit, urging him to face you so you can trace his eyebrows, stroke down the hook of his nose and the pillow of his bottom lip. He’s practically in a trance by the time you speak up,pulled by your softness. “I’m glad you got out, and are here, Ezra,” you decide on.
It appears to be the right thing to say. He rolls onto you and smothers you with kisses until you have to break away for air. “I am overjoyed, soleil. Sometimes– most of the time, it doesn't seem real. Like I must have died, and this is some sort of shockingly- pleasant afterlife. Or that I finally submitted to the psychosis of my prior imprisonment.” He buries his face in between your breasts and lays on you, listening to your heartbeat under his ear as it slowly calms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting gently until he’s snoring. It only takes a few minutes, which makes you huff a laugh, trying not to wake him.
You too doze off under his comfortable weight, waking in the night to pee and crawling back under the coverlet against him. He stirs a few times, curling against you and dragging you close.
When you wake, it’s fully bright out, late morning, and pleasantly cool in the house. Ezra is spooned up behind you, his arm curled under your neck and wrapped around your front, your hips nested and legs entwined.
It's almost unbearably comfortable, and you want to stay here all day instead of getting up and preparing for a day at the clinic. You lay silently for several minutes, basking in the warmth of the body pressed up behind you, the press of his lean belly, soft with sleep, against your lower back and the thighs nested under your rump.
Too soon, your bladder makes you aware of the need to get up. You groan under your breath, unwilling to move at all but already loosening Ezra’s arm from your ribs. He inhales sharply, half sitting in a daze and blinking around the room.
“Hey, you’re okay. I have to pee and get ready,” you say quietly, petting the white tuft at his temple. He nuzzles into your hand and then exhales heavily, flopping back to the bed.
Ezra yawns hugely, stretching his whole long body out and then sprawling in a lazy spool of limbs, shamelessly nude and adorably mussed. “Want company?” He husks, voice still claggy with sleep.
You snort, dropping a kiss on his scruffy chin. “If you want.”
You pad downstairs to the bathroom and start the water, letting it warm while you pee. When you step into the tub, you hear the stairs above you creak, indicating that Ezra is following. A moment later, you hear him going through his own ablutions before a tickly kiss is dropped onto your shoulder.
After doing your own, you reach up and behind your own head to scrub lather into his short curls, scritching over his scalp, and soak up all the skin pressed against yours under the warm spray.
In less than an hour, it's back to reality. But for now, it's wonderful.
_______________
A week later, after a few more nights of similar exploration and pleasant sleep, there is a knock on your door just as you're finishing cooking dinner. Ezra is sat at your island, laughing through a retelling of Cee’s school drama this week (the laughter is in empathy - she had been asked out by a notoriously misogynistic boy in the class above hers and had been appalled). He jumps up to get the door while you plate, hoping it's not the clinic but getting it is.
“Yeah I'll grab her. Come in? Soleil!” Ezra calls, coming back past the narrow half- wall separating the den and kitchen. “It’s Joel.”
“Oh,” you say, frowning. “Okay. Go ahead and eat,” you push a plate of seared cabbage and beans drizzled in sauce at him and drop a kiss on his cheekbone. He wraps his fingers around your wrist in thanks, soft as a breeze, and smiles at you.
As you turn to go meet Joel, Ezra's thumb strokes the back of your hand before he lets it drop, letting you go to create some privacy for what is likely about to be a tense conversation.
Joel is leaning by your mantle, cross-armed and looking utterly exhausted when you come into your den.
“Hey,” you say, stopping in front of him.
“Hey,” he parrots, frowning harder, like he’s ready to turn tail at the slightest hint you want him gone.
“Do you need something?” You ask. It's like pulling teeth getting the man to talk sometimes.
“I need to talk to you. Do you wanna go to the porch, or do you want me to come by, ‘nother time?” you don't miss his furtive glance toward the kitchen, mostly hidden by a blink.
You swallow, looking up at him. “I’ll overthink it if we don’t do it now.”
Joel nods in understanding. “Lead on, hon.”
You usher him into your spare room, which is sparsely set basically the way Tommy and Maria had left it some years ago when you’d arrived. He stands in the middle of it, glaring at the four walls and the unmade single bed and empty, open chest, while you shut the door and turn to face him. You hope furiously that you're not blushing too hard.
God, how in the fuck did you forget how hot he is? How much space he takes up; the presence?
“What did you want to–”
“I miss you,” Joel interrupts, barely saying the words in a low, quiet, but firm tone. You blink at him, trying to digest it.
“I’m–”
“I know you’re— look, let me say what I gotta say, or it ain’t gonna come out. I know you're with the new guy. Ezra. He’s probably more… More what you're lookin’ for in a lot of ways. But darlin’, I. I know I’ve not done a lot of good in the last twenty years. But you make me feel like I could. Like I want to. And I haven't had that, except for you and Ellie, not since Outbreak Day. And she’s moving on. I’m losing her. I’m going to. And I pushed you away because I don't want to lose you, too. And I bet you saw that comin’ a mile away- you always do. Because you're so damned smart, and good. I know you're with him. But I wanted to know if– if you wanted to try bein’ with us both?”
You stay quiet, knowing he's not done, but you can't help your eyebrows hitting the ceiling on that one. Possessive, protective Joel Miller…. open to sharing?
“I know how it sounds. But I know you love me. I know it. And I hate breakin’ your heart when I hole up into myself. But I can't help it sometimes. I’m tryin’, though. You an’ Ellie are making me try. If you had us both, you could have the softness he gives, the- the home life that I can’t - can’t handle, even if I want to, for you. And with me, you get– whatever it is you see in me.”
He nods at you, seemingly done and looking for all the world like he’s waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall swiftly.
“What about Ezra?” You ask, deciding to see how much Joel has even thought about this harebrained scheme.
“We’d… Ellie called it a poly-cule? Sometimes you're with me, sometimes you're with him, or alone. We just– share, but have our own spaces? And I'll work on my problems. I will.” He insists at your arched brow.
“But I think being with you steady and having a settled deal so I won't- can’t back out without a fight is going to help. Because sweetheart, you been too good to me. You let me go, every time. And I'm grateful for that, because I think I would’a been real mean if you hadn’t, and you don't deserve that, but it hurts. And I know it hurts you, which makes it worse.”
“And what if I wanted to have a threesome? Or if he wanted to kiss you?” You keep your face carefully devoid of emotion while you feel for the cracks in those infamous emotional walls.
“I don’t. Uh. My gut immediately said no, but truthfully, hon. I might. but– only if you're there. I don’t – don't have any interest, there, not like that.”
You're quiet for a minute and nod, chewing your lip. “Is it my turn to go?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
“I do miss you. A lot. I think about you all the time. And I'm sure Cam has been filling your ears with all kinds of nonsense about our foraging trips. But I like Ezra. A lot. He's sweet, and goofy, and easy. I’ll talk to him. He may be more interested than you’re giving him credit for.”
Joel nods, his jaw working, staring somewhere around your knees. “Alright.”
“But,” you start, stepping closer, and then again when he straightens and blinks up at your face. “What this isn't going to be is an excuse to run off with your tail between your legs every time someone notes that we’re together. It's not an excuse to fuck me behind his back or cut him out when it's convenient for you. We talk, we negotiate and we’re open, or we don't even try it. Can you do that?”
Looking surprisingly chastened, Joel nods.
“Alright. Go eat and get some sleep, you look half dead. Want some of what we have? I can make up a container.”
“Nah, Ellie’s note on the door said she cooked an’ left me some. Thanks,” he adds, feeling abruptly very awkward. He’d like to go pretend this conversation never happened for a day or two, but that's exactly what you’re getting at.
“Alright. Come on,” you open the door and lead him back to the front, only a little surprised to not see Ezra lurking about, trying to overhear. You hear him clinking about in the kitchen.
Joel stops on the porch, looking back at you. His fingertips rub against the pad of his thumb, an anxious tell. You raise an eyebrow, waiting. “Can I– uh.”
“I'm not gonna kiss you ‘til I talk to him, Miller,” you tease, giving him a smile. He huffs and shuffles his feet.
“No, I was going to ask for a hug. You always. You give good hugs,” he mutters, seeming annoyed with the fact. You snort at him and step out onto the porch, letting him fold you into a hug that arches you backwards with the weight of it.
“Oof,” you exhale into his flannel, and wrap your arms around his ribs. He squeezes you to him firmly, once, and lets go.
“Thanks, uhm. Go talk to him. You know where to find me.”
“Alright,” you say, and watch him clop down the stairs and around the fence into his own yard.
You go back inside to find Ezra still sitting at the island, pushing his food around with a fork. He straightens when he sees you, trying to appear poker- faced and failing miserably. He’s anxious as fuck.
“Anything to report, soleil?” He asks quietly. You smile at him and huff a disparaging laugh.
“Yeah, actually.” You scarf down the last few bites of your food and take up the plates, putting them in the sink. When you turn around and lean on the counter, his eyes are dark, watching you carefully.
“Come on, chérie. It’s time to gut the fencer. Lay it on me.”
“He, uhm. He wants to know if we are interested in an open relationship. Like a poly situation.”
Ezra sits straight and blinks at you, baffled. “The man purported around town to be so possessive of you that he broke a man’s nose for flirting with you at the bar…. Wants to have a sharing arrangement?”
You can't help but chuckle. He's not wrong. “I’m just as shocked as you are. He said it was Tommy’s idea. Maybe I should go ask him what on earth he said to convince Joel it was a decent idea.”
“How do you feel about it?” Ezra asks, his furrowed brow smoothing out.
You shrug and shake your head. “I don't know. I don't want either of you to get upset enough to leave for good. I like you, baby. A lot. And yeah, I miss him, but being with you has helped, made it go away for the most part. But when he is around it's like salt in a wound. Maybe this would help, but I'm not willing to lose you over it. How do you feel about it?”
“I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit covetous of you. But I have been in such relationships before, chérie. Communication is key. And from what I understand, your old man isn’t the best at that. But I am happy to properly meet him and discuss this if you wish.”
And he does, quicker than you expected. You wake up alone and walk to the clinic alone the next day, your brow furrowed in confusion until you round the corner onto the main street and see Ezra leaning against the porch of the clinic, talking to Joel. You assume that Ezra had simply woken and waited for the girls to come out of Joel’s house, and then struck up a conversation and followed Joel as he escorted the girls to school. With no teens to be seen and a massive rifle hanging off Joel’s shoulder for rounds, that is the most likely story. Your sweet- talking, loquacious partner is certainly bending Joel’s ear, by the look of it.
“Hey,” you say, stopping a few feet away. Ezra squints at you in the bright morning sun and grins.
“Good morning, soleil. Apologies for leavin’ you to wake up cold; I saw my opportunity and struck after it.”
Their conversation must have been decent. Joel barely even rolls his eyes at Ezra’s explanation. You can't help the amused huff that escapes you. “Mornin’ to you too, grump.” You wink at Joel and he harrumphs at you.
“G’mornin’ hon.”
“You got patrol today?”
“Mmm,” he nods, adjusting the hang of the gun on his shoulder. “Goin’ to check that resort about three miles up into the mountains, now the snow’s melted.”
“Yikes. Keep awares. You’ll be back by dark?”
“Yes ma’am,” he drawls. Ezra is watching you back and forth, like someone sat on the net of a tennis match. Joel shifts his weight and holds up a hand like he’s asking for yours.
When you step forward and drop your hand in his, he drops a kiss on your knuckles, leaving you a little stunned, and turns away.
“Y’all have a good day. See you tonight,” he calls over his shoulder, already stalking off with his shoulders up around his ears. You snort and flex your hand, looking back at Ezra. He looks bemused.
“What?” you ask, giggling at his look.
“Oh nothin’. The old man just asked what I did to win you over, and I said lots of little touches and even more kisses. And that you like bein’ around your people, and not by yourself.”
You nod, scuffing your boots in the grass. “That's a fair synopsis.”
Ezra watches you another moment and stands, stepping closer. He hooks his hand around your backpack strap and reels you in, grinning. “I gotta go to the nursery today, soleil. But I will be here with bells on at lunchtime.”
“Alright. Have a good day, baby.” You give him a kiss with your hand cupped around his jaw, and he squeezes you close round the ribs for a beat before letting you go unlock the clinic. When you're inside, he waves and ambles off in the direction of the nursery.
_______________
Joel is annoyed.
His trailmates today consist of Tommy, two young trigger-happy idiots he calls the Dukes of Hazzard, a grizzled masc woman named Peg, and Cam.
Tommy started the trail out by pairing the young ones off at the tail, he and Joel in the center, and Peg and Cam on the scout front. Joel’s good ear is on the outside of the group, his flank covered by effective if jumpy kids, and he’s on his preferred mount, a roan horse called Strawberry.
That ain't what he’s annoyed by.
He’s annoyed that Tommy keeps loudly asking him about you.
“Saw you talkin’ to her man this mornin’ while I was getting trail rations at the grocer. What's that about?”
Joel just harrumphs at him and tightens the reins in his fist.
“Aw come on, brother. Did you talk to them?”
He is met with more silence. Tommy lets it be for maybe half a mile.
“Y’know. I’ll switch you and Cam out on their supply runs if you want. They’re due to go out again next week.” Tommy hides his smirk when Joel finally glances his way, curiosity heavy on his brow.
“Yeah?”
Tommy can't help but snort a laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure he’s tired of them anyhow. Might as well be three lovebirds ‘stead of two and an awkward watchman.”
Joel scowls at him, and Tommy just grins.
“Don't call me that,” Joel grumbles, driving his heels into Strawberry’s sides to get her to push forward a few yards, gain some distance.
“I won’t if you start actin’ like it, and give me some details! Or I can keep ribbing you!”
Joel just huffs and takes the verbal beating. He can't give details he doesn't have, and he doesn't think he’d share them anyway.
They get to the resort and find a huge stash of salt for the pools and roads, medicine in a meebay wing, and some tinned food. They haul everything they can carry back to Jackson and, barring a sprained ankle on Peg (exacerbating a prior injury; she walks it off) there were no injuries to report.
By the time Joel is walking to the end of Rancher Street, it’s dark. Your lights are on, and Ezra’s are dark. Joel peeks around the side of his house and sees the garage light on. Ellie’s in there, probably working away on her little hideaway. He stands there in the driveway for a long moment, wanting to see her and wanting to see you.
In the end, Ellie makes the choice for him.
“JOEL!” she shouts, throwing the door to the garage open and cupping both hands around her mouth. He winces and moves, letting her eyes catch on him in the drive.
“Stop yellin’,” he grouses, walking to her. She’s ushering him into her little house, talking a mile a minute. Cee is there, on a sofa, reading a graphic novel. She glances up at him when he walks in and waves. He nods back.
“What’d you need?”
“Can you help me build a shelf, for right here?” She points to a rectangle of space on one wall and moves her hands up and down like she’s miming the shape of a bookshelf.
“Like on the wall or like a bookshelf?” He asks, eyeing the space.
“A bookshelf!”
Joel lets a smile tick up one side of his face. “Alright. I’ll see what wood I can rustle up. You girls ate yet?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah,” the both chime in. “Left you some on the stove,” Ellie adds, going back to sit on the loveseat by Cee.
Feeling dismissed, Joel nods. “Okay. Thanks, kiddo. G’night. Night, Cee,” he says to their twinned waves, and sees himself out.
When he’s on the last step of his back porch, you open your back door and lean in the doorframe. “Hey stranger,” you say, and he pauses. He can hear the faint clink behind you in the kitchen, implying that Ezra is over.
“Hey yourself,” he replies, leaning on the porch railing.
“Good run today?”
Joel shrugs, “No injuries, got some goodies. Got harassed by my damn brother.”
You laugh, and he can’t help but smile. He’s missed the sound of your laugh. “About me?”
“‘bout both’a you,” he says, pointing at the door behind you with his chin. Mirth twinkles in your eyes and he heaves a weary sigh. “I’m off rounds tomorrow, if you wanna talk. But I'm beat tonight, hon. Not sure I can take much conversation.”
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay over, sleep it off, actually.”
Joel freezes, watching you carefully. You recognize the look; he gives it to other people often enough. Trying to figure out their angle, why they’re goading him, and whether it's worth it.
“He’s not stayin’?”
You shrug. “He doesn't have to. He’s the one that offered, actually. Come on,” you say, winking, and disappear back inside.
Joel stays there another second, deciding, before coming to the conclusion that there is no decision. He wants to sleep next to you, even if Ezra is on your other side. He goes into his own house and snags a change of clothes and his toothbrush and goes back out the back door, locking it and calling out for Ellie.
“Going next door for the night!” He waits for her Okay to carry back across the driveway and hops the low fence over to your side, clambering up your narrow back steps to your door.
Joel enters your house and hears you talking from the living room. He follows through the kitchen to the half wall and into the larger room, spotting you and Ezra sitting on the sofa, chatting.
“Uh. Hey,” he says, pausing in the doorway.
“Hey yourself,” You give him a beaming smile and scoot over, patting the far end of the couch for him to join you. Ezra is on one end, you in the middle. “Come here if you want. Or, you can abuse my shower if you prefer.”
Joel presses his molars together and sits. He glances at Ezra, who is watching you and Joel both with a faint smile ticking up his mouth. Joel nods at him and waits for you to initiate conversation. It’s quiet for a long moment.
“I was just going,” Ezra says, just as Joel gives in and breaks his silence.
“I don't care if you stay.”
“Oh,” Ezra says, glancing at you.
“My bed is big enough. I’ll gladly be the center of attention,” you chuckle.
And so, fifteen minutes later, you’re stretched out in bed facing Ezra, nearly asleep in the face of his soft snores. The man can fall asleep on a fence line now that he’s safe. Your face is tucked into his chest, his arm limp on the bed between your bodies.
Joel pads quietly up to the loft and comes around to the open space behind you, kneeling on the mattress and stretching out with an old man groan. You exhale sharply in a silent laugh, reaching back for his hand. Joel rolls to spoon up behind you, settling your bum on his thighs and his belly in the arch of your lower back, just the way you like. He hums against your hairline, wrapping his arm around your waist. His skin is just slightly damp from the shower, smelling like the town’s green soap, your favorite, hoarded in chips and fragments of bars in your linen cabinet to preserve it.
“Missed you,” Joel whispers against your nape, and you turn your face up to the ceiling, glancing back at him. Your arm lifts and bends back, fingers curling in his damp hair.
“I missed you, too,” you whisper back. He kisses your cheekbone and squeezes you round the ribs once before resettling. You feel him slowly loosen against you until his snores softly mingle with Ezra’s, pulling you to sleep.
In the dim morning, the backs of Ezra’s knuckles are resting against Joel’s belly, his arm loose over the dip of your waist, sandwiched between your back and Joel’s softness. Joel is in much the same position, his arm spooled out over your hip, unmoved since he woke up when the sunlight brightened above your bed. He can feel each of Ezra's even breaths against his knuckles, the tickle of his sparse chest hair since he’d gone to bed in just shorts.
He thinks vaguely that he should be offended, repelled. He should flinch back and move his arm, pull away from such a casual, careless touch. He’s meant to be cuddling you, not sharing a cuddle with him. His next thought is that moving away will surely wake you, and he doesn't want that, at all. He wants to lay here. He wants to be still and soft and comfortable, even touching Ezra.
He stays.
AN: if you finished or came back from part 1 for more, that means you liked it! please like and reblog! this is not an archive, views depend on your sharing! (so does my continued writing!)
Part 3 should go up on ao3 this weekend! bookmark and sub there for the quickest updates!
Edit: link to part 3: link
#ezra (prospect)#prospect (2018)#joel the last of us#joel miller#joel x reader#ezra x reader#joel x reader x ezra#poly dynamics#the last of us
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Finders Keepers Ch 7. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: SMUT, Romance 🥹, Finger fucking, PIV, Unprotected sex
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Cormac knows a secluded spot.
A/N: 800 words of plot, 5.3k words of smut. Can someone please help me budget? I can't feed my family. PS I was updating weekly when a chapter was 2k but they're getting longer and longer so it will be more like every 2 weeks.
Masterlist
Tag list: @pretendfan, @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra
Chapter 7: Fine
“Did you see who the Ravenclaw Captain is going out with?”
“Does McLaggen know she’s a lesbian?”
When you returned from the holidays, murmurs surrounded you and McLaggen when you walked down the corridor with his arm around your shoulder. Even tonight as you and the other last few remaining students are ordered out of the library by Madam Pince, a few of them give you both a backwards look as you leave.
“Does it bother you?” you ask, as he scowls at a couple of fifth-year boys.
“Nah,” he says unconvincingly. “I’m more annoyed that it’s interrupting the only time we have together.”
The second part, at least, is true. Between McLaggen’s detentions with Snape every Saturday, Ravenclaw Quidditch practice and the ever-increasing demands of your N.E.W.Ts, the two of you had hardly spent any time together - never mind time alone. Potions was the only class you shared and it required so much concentration these days that it was hardly conducive to intimate conversation.
The two of you lag behind the other students, trying to take as much time as possible to return to your respective dormitories.
“They’re probably wondering what you’re doing with me,” you scoff.
He stops in his tracks, adjusting both yours and his book bags on his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”
“Don’t be daft McLaggen, you’re you. Ridiculously good looking, well-connected…”
“You’re mental. Genuinely bonkers.”
“I’m not sure if you noticed but I was hardly fighting off suitors before we started going out.”
He puts a hand on each of your shoulders and looks into your eyes. “Listen, you are so fit. I think that was more to do with…” He hesitates.
“My personality?” You suggest with a grin.
“I was going to say your reputation but sure, let’s go with that,” he laughs. “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but it’s all lads who have been staring at us. I mean, the first thing Eddie Carmichael did after he saw us together was ask me how I’d managed it.”
“Yeah, right.”
“He did, I swear! I think you’ve annoyed a lot of blokes here by being secretly bisexual.”
“It wasn’t a secret! I-”
“God, you’re so easy to wind up.” He brings his free arm around your shoulder again and you continue walking towards the entrance hall.
“I’m not used to it. Nobody’s usually brave or stupid enough to try. Except you, obviously.” You slow down as you make your way across the courtyard towards the entrance hall where you’ll need to bid each other goodnight. “Speaking of stupidity, when’s your last detention with Snape?”
“This Saturday. Just as well because it means I’m free on Valentine’s Day. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah, good shout - the pitch will probably be free.”
“I was actually thinking we could do something together that wasn’t Quidditch practice.”
Oh.
“What kind of thing do you have in mind?”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath as you reach the marble staircase. “We could go to Madam Puddifoots? Get coffee? And dusted in confetti, probably.”
You come to a halt, thinking about Cho’s previous experience there with Harry Potter. “I can’t think of anything worse.”
“Oh, thank god.” He grins. “Me neither.”
“Now you mention it, I wouldn’t mind being alone… just the two of us,” you say, taking a step towards him and looking up at his face. “What about that room on the seventh floor you guys used for the D.A. last year?”
“Pfft, yeah right,” he laughs. “Carmichael said he had to duel about twelve other blokes for the Room of Requirement last Valentine’s Day. Too many people know about it now.”
“Scared you’ll lose?” You ask, thinking that that would be something you’d enjoy watching very much.
“Carmichael managed to get the room last year but spent the entire night with his legs stuck in the jelly legs jinx. Not worth it.” You both crack up laughing.
“I meant to ask,” you say, thinking about Marietta. “Does he have a date this Valentine’s Day?”
“Carmichael? I’m not sure, why?” He gives you a confused look.
“Could you maybe hint to him that Marietta might be interested in going out with him?”
“Eddie and Marietta? I dunno…”
“Why not?”
“I mean, she’s a bit of a…” He hesitates. “She’s sort of a goody-two-shoes, right?”
“So? Eddie’s Head Boy.” You bristle, ready to defend her.
“Yeah because he’s clever but he’s still a bit of a geezer. I suppose Dumbledore doesn’t know he runs a black market. He made a mint last year selling Baruffio's Brain Elixir to fifth years doing their O.W.Ls.”
This is news to you. Carmichael’s obviously good at keeping his illicit activities quiet. “Well, maybe she likes a bit of edge.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll tell him to ask her out. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Not as a double date or anything,” you add quickly. “I spend enough time with her as it is.”
“Yeah, I’m not keen on being around Carmichael working his magic either.” He screws up his face in distaste. “The two of us could always just go to the Three Broomsticks?”
“Eh, too crowded. What about the Quidditch stands again?”
“No way. It’s far too high and exposed for what I’d like to do to you.” He moves his arm down your back and squeezes your bum.
“Cormac,” you tut, pretending to look scandalised but he just responds by tilting your chin up to kiss him. Standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips, you grab his shirt, pulling your body in as close as you can to his.
There’s a hiss behind you and you pull apart to see Mrs Norris, the caretaker’s scruffy old cat giving you a reproachful look. That could only mean that Filch wasn’t far behind.
You kneel to try and scratch her head but she hisses again and bats your hand away before running in the opposite direction.
“I’ll think of something,” says McLaggen, returning your book bag. “Something good.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A couple of weeks later you stand at the edge of the Quidditch pitch with your broom at your side, as per McLaggen’s instructions. The winter sun is low over the loch in the distance. His last detention should be finished by now.
You soon see his broad figure walking down the path towards the pitch - his broom in one hand and his book bag in the other, looking like it’s ready to burst at the seams. You pull your scarf around you tightly against the cold evening air.
“Oi oi,” he grins, you hear the bag clinking with what you hope is a bottle of Firewhisky as he gets closer. “You ready?”
“What am I meant to be ready for?”
“A secluded night alone with your favourite git.”
“Inside I hope?” You ask, shivering.
“Nope.” He mounts his broom and kicks off into the air. “Are you coming or what?”
You twist your mouth into a reluctant smile and kick off from the ground
He grins over his shoulder and accelerates towards the loch. Where is he taking you?
You soon catch up with him as he flies low over the water. Just as he turns to see if you’re close yet, you dip your hand in the water and speed past, splashing him with freezing water as you whizz by.
“Oh, you cheeky…” His voice trails off as you get further away, laughing into the wind whipping at your face. He catches up with you again and cuts in front of you, forcing you to stop abruptly. “Wrong way. Follow me.”
You behave yourself this time and follow him as he flies towards a tiny island in the middle of the giant loch. He descends onto the pebble beach and dismounts when he’s onshore and you do the same.
“Here?”
“A bit further back, away from the lake.”
“Loch.”
“Hm?” He takes your broomstick to carry it for you.
“We’re in Scotland so it’s a loch, not - ah, never mind.”
You hold your tongue - the name of the body of water wasn’t the issue you saw here. Firstly, it was freezing cold tonight and secondly, you could make out the castle from the island. Anyone looking out a window would see any fire you lit to keep yourself warm, potentially drawing the attention of the teachers.
You reach a grassy verge at the edge of the stony beach and McLaggen conjures a blanket from thin air which spreads itself out on the ground. He gestures for you to sit down before walking around the perimeter in a circle muttering spells.
“Shield charm, disillusionment charm,” he says in answer to your silent question. “And a few more to make sure nobody can see us from the castle or sneak up on us unexpectedly.”
You tilt your head. “You’re good at all this defensive stuff.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m doing the N.E.W.T. in Defence Against the Dark Arts, remember?”
“Rather you than me,” you say, watching as he turns his attention to his book bag and extracts not a bottle of Firewhisky but a large jam jar, inside which he conjures a blue flame. He puts the jar at the edge of the blanket and you feel instantly warmer.
Joining you on the blanket he laughs at your stunned expression. “Not bad, eh?”
Not bad?
The sun sets on the horizon, casting a red glow over the island. Birds chirp their final songs of the evening and the gentle lapping of the water on the stony beach combined with the surprisingly intense heat from McLaggen’s Bluebell Flame Charm make you feel like you’re somewhere much milder than rural Scotland on a February evening.
“Cormac, this is…” You search for the word. You’d never expected him to be romantic. Thoughtful. It’s entirely out of your realm of experience. You swallow. “It’s good.” You go to kiss him but stop in your tracks when you feel his wet jumper. “Oh, sorry.” You say and quickly cast a hot air charm, drying off his clothes that you soaked earlier.
“Thanks,” he grins.
You look out at the castle across the water. “So… nobody can see us from up there?” He shakes his head. “You’ve really thought of everything,”
“Ah, it’s not even the best bit.” He rummages in his bag again and pulls out two bottles of butterbeer and a bag of Honeydukes cinnamon-flavoured marshmallows.
“I love a toasted marshmallow. Good thinking.”
“They’re not toasted. Just normal.”
“Don’t tell me toasted marshmallows are a muggle invention,” you say in disbelief. “Watch this.” You pull two marshmallows out and levitate them over the large flame in the jar, spinning them so they crisp evenly. You draw them back to you. “Wait a minute, they’ll be molten hot.”
When they’re cool enough to touch, you pull one from the air and feed it to him.
“Mhm…” he says, eyes rolling to the sky. “I can’t believe I’ve been eating marshmallows cold my whole life.”
You laugh and eat yours.
You both chat for a while as the sun continues to set, toasting marshmallows, talking about Quidditch, speculating how Marietta and Eddie’s date went and of course the upcoming exams.
“So you never fancied doing Defense as an N.E.W.T.?” he asks.
“I couldn’t. It was my only A at O.W.L. The rest were - “
“O’s and E’s, obviously, seeing as you’re a know-it-all” he smirks. “Is that why you didn’t join the D.A. last year then?”
“To be honest, I only considered it in the first place because Cho fancied Potter and didn’t want to go alone. But then Marietta agreed to go with her. I guess I just don’t like fighting.”
He puts down his butterbeer. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way but…”
“I know, I know. I’m probably the most aggressive person here. But when it comes to curses or duelling, I just… freeze up.” You look at him seriously and take a deep breath - you’ve never told anyone this before. “And then with Cedric being murdered… It all just messed with my head. I mean he was great at Defence and it never helped him. That was all I could think about during my exam.”
McLaggen nods. “I never really knew Cedric but I heard he was a decent guy.”
“He was. And he was a really good boyfriend to Cho, y’know? Like he was never really afraid to be…” You lean back on your elbows looking at the scene in front of you, trying to find the right words. “He was good with stuff like this. The romantic stuff. I like that you’re not afraid of that either.”
He joins you, leaning back casually. “It’s easy when it’s with you, I guess.”
“You know, you’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, in the spirit of not taking things the wrong way, I’m not the only one with a reputation.”
“Yeah? Go on, what do they say about me then?”
“Full of yourself, kind of a pig, talks about his dad’s connections all the time…” you rhyme off, counting on your fingers.
“You say all those things too,” he smirks.
“Well, maybe you are what they say.” You turn on your side to face him, propped up on your elbow. “Maybe I’m just surprised that I like it.”
“I’ll take that.” His thumb brushes your lip as he cups your chin to tilt your head up. “Whatever makes you moan my name again.”
“Pig,” you whisper, lips barely touching his as you both smile. You don’t really believe it- he’s kind of a sweetheart even if he finds himself funnier than he actually is. You kiss him and his hand brushes your inner thigh just below your skirt.
Fuck, those hands. You love how small they make you feel. His fingers trace their way up and under your skirt.
“These feel nice,” he murmurs, toying with the lacy hem.
“Oh god, promise you won’t laugh when you see them - I don’t know what I was thinking.” He pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to get you a gift, I’m not romantic like that but Marietta and Cho suggested… Ugh, I’ll just show you. Don’t laugh.”
You slip off your skirt and pull your jumper off over your head. When you disentangle yourself, you see McLaggen staring at you open-mouthed at your dark red lacy lingerie in the dim firelight.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
You throw yourself back on the blanket and cover your face with your hands, feeling intensely embarrassed. “Stop! I changed my mind about ten times.” You tell him between your fingers. “The girls convinced me to go through with it in the end.”
“I might have to send Cho and Marietta my thanks because… fuck.” He moves your hands and brushes your hair from your face. “You are so, unbelievably hot.”
“Well, you’ve got a lot to thank them for,” you whisper, looking up at him leaning over you. The familiar expensive scent of him intoxicates you, the heady amber and jasmine lighting up your synapses. “They were the ones who told me how to… like what to do with - I mean when we were in the Leaky Cauldron.”
He pauses. “Damn. Then I’ll definitely have to give them my undying gratitude.”
You give him a mischievous smile, feeling goosebumps on your skin as his fingers leave your face to trace up and down your arm. It might be warmer thanks to the blue flames but you’re significantly chillier in your new state of undress.
McLaggen seems to notice. “As much as I’m enjoying seeing you like this, do you want my jumper?”
It’s sweet of him but you shake your head. “Just your body heat.”
“I can manage that.” He shuffles closer to you but impatient for him to understand your meaning, you quickly pull him on top of your body, feeling his warm weight on you. “Fuck…”
He inhales deeply into the crook of your neck and you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side, allowing him to kiss the bare skin of your neck. With satisfaction, you feel his hard cock pressing against you from under his jeans when his hips slot perfectly into the opening of your legs.
“Cormac?”
“Hm?” He asks your neck, his lips sucking the sensitive skin just under your ear.
“I like this.”
He stops his kissing to look down at you. “I mean, let me get started first before you give me such unusually high praise.”
“I’m serious. I mean tonight. All of this.”
“I am too. It’s nice to hear you say something nice about me for a change.”
“Take your top off or I’ll run out of nice things to say,” you tell him, tugging at the bottom of his jumper.
“There she is,” he says grinning before kneeling between your legs to pull off his sweatshirt, exposing his bare chest.
“Shit…” you say, looking up at his muscular figure in front of you, every contour of his body illuminated by the blue firelight.
“You’re welcome.”
He really is unbearably full of himself.
But with good reason.
Your skin prickles again with the absence of his warm body against you but you’re less certain it has to do with the cold, considering the heat emanating between your legs.
“Shut up and come back here.” You pull at his waistband, urging him to return to you.
McLaggen closes in on you, resting his arms on either side of your head. His warm skin feels divine against you, even better than his soft jumper. “I don’t think so… I know you like hearing me talk.”
And for some reason his high opinion of himself makes your pussy ache. This is a man who has never been told he’s bad at anything. And it’s beyond irritating that he’s correct on this occasion. He knows exactly how to turn you on - how to make you weak for him. And what’s worse is that he knows he knows it.
“I’d like it more if you stopped talking and kissed me,” you say, succumbing to the urge to put him in his place. But it spurs him on even more.
“Too much for you to handle?”
Before you can argue back, his mouth meets yours. His tongue enters your mouth and you taste the sticky sweetness of butterbeer and toasted marshmallows. The kiss is slow - different to the last two times he’s kissed you like this - you’ve got all the time in the world on this little island. No rush to explore each others’ bodies with fervent urgency. The only ticking clock is your own arousal, incredibly eager for him to hurry up.
Your legs draw around him again as you wriggle against the bulge pressing against you, silently begging for his attention below your waist. But instead, he massages his tongue over yours, making you whine softly, surrendering your pride. He deepens the kiss, holding onto your jaw and you thread your fingers through his hair.
McLaggen’s hand slides down your body, groping your breast through your bra on the way down. He stops at the crux of your inner thigh, touching the hem of your underwear again.
“Is this okay?” His tone is sincere for a change.
You blink up at him. “Yes,” you breathe.
He moves your underwear over and slips a single finger inside you. Your breath hitches in your throat as your walls clench around the new intrusion - you’ve never been with anyone with fingers so large. Your arousal coats his fingers - it sounds so obscenely wet and sticky that your cheeks burn.
McLaggen watches closely for your reaction. He’s being so gentle with you that it makes you want to roll your eyes. What you want is for him to pin you down and take you here on the blanket. You can handle it.
“I’m fine, McLaggen.” You rock your hips in encouragement, trying to prove just how completely and totally fine you are.
“Oh, so it’s McLaggen again, is it? I must be doing something wrong.” He grins. “But you’re so wet for me…” he says pushing his fingers in and up. You gasp at the sudden sensation of him hitting that spot. “So something must feel nice.”
You grab hold of his face and kiss him fiercely, sucking his lower lip and grinding against his palm, trying to instil a sense of urgency in him. Maybe you can goad him into fucking you.
“Aww, my poor baby’s impatient.”
Your thighs squeeze together in response to his teasing.
“Don’t-” You cut yourself off. You almost told him to stop calling you baby. But that would be cutting your nose off to spite your face because you, really, really like it.
“Don’t what?” His finger taps against your G-spot, making you squirm under him.
“Fuck, nothing. Never mind,” you huff.
“This is so sweet,” he says as he pushes his palm against you, rubbing against your clit.
You sputter. “I - what’s sweet?”
“Trying to get me to hurry up by pretending you’re annoyed with me.” He removes his finger and for a second you’re about to complain, that is until he brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks them, slowly, purposefully tasting you before running them along your folds. “You’re not gonna provoke me into anything. I’ve got you to myself for the first time in weeks. I’ll do this all night.”
Oh, shit.
He slides his two digits out and back into your pussy and you arch your back at the new stretch. You squeeze your muscles, feeling every ridge of his long fingers inside you. You feel your climax blossoming inside you already and you untense your thighs, trying to stop your orgasm in its tracks but that just allows him to press his fingers deeper.
“Fuck - wait, Cormac. I don’t want to cum like this. I want you to - ah, fuck,” you pant and he halts his movement, keeping his fingers still inside you.
“There’s no way you’re only cumming once tonight.”
“Pr - promise?” You choke, desperate for him to start moving again.
“I promise.” The heel of his hand feels perfect against you as he curls his fingers. You grip the blanket. “C’mon, be a good girl. Stop fighting and cum for me.”
You hate that you love that.
You lift your hips as much as you can, leaning into his hand pressed between your bodies, feeling the precision with which he’s attacking his target. Everything pulls up in your lower half, burning and aching, teetering on a knife’s edge.
“Mhmh.” You bite your lip, trying not to cry out into the silent night air in response to his relentless finger fucking.
“There we go, thaaat’s it,” he says and the way his voice is dripping in smug self-satisfaction sends you over the brink. Bliss floods your body, spreading through to your every extremity by the incessant pressing of his fingers into your core.
And it’s like you’re flying through the air - not on a broom like before. Like you’re hurtling towards your own end, plummeting at breakneck speed into your orgasm.
You gasp for air as the last wave of ecstasy crashes over you and Cormac slowly draws his fingers from you, grazing your swollen clit.
“Still ‘fine’?” he teases.
“Yeah… I’m fuck. Yeah, I am… I’m fine.”
“Good.” Cormac trails kisses down your chest all the way to your lower abdomen but you interrupt him.
“Wait -” He lifts his eyes up at the interruption, lips still touching your stomach. “- Aren’t we going to have sex?”
“What, right now?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re ready? I know it’s a big next step.”
“Oh. Aren’t you?”
“God, yes.”
“C’mon then, don’t make me beg.”
He pushes himself to rest back on his knees and bites his lip, looking at your pink cheeks and the way your chest rises and falls as you try to bring your heart rate back to normal. “Yeah, go on then, beg a little bit.”
Your stomach twists - you were being facetious. Your instinct is to spit a scathing retort back. But shit, you want him.
“Cormac, be serious.”
“Yeah, say my name too. I know you’re turned on when you say it like that.” He undoes his belt buckle with one hand and pulls his cock out.
God, it’s everything you remember and more.
Cormac takes himself in his hand and slowly jerks his length up and down. “If you want it, use your words.”
You’re not used to anyone telling you what to do like this. That was your job - always. In the bedroom, on the Quidditch pitch - you’ve always had to be in control.
You blink up at him with wide eyes as he kneels between your open legs, stroking his cock.
Dimples appear at the corners of his mouth as an infuriatingly brazen smile crosses his face and he pulls off your underwear.
“So pretty and wet for me, baby,” he says, drawing two fingers along your soaking wet slit, the rough pads of his fingers pausing at your still sensitive clit.
“I thought you were going to fuck me,” you pout, although the feeling of his fingers dipping between your folds sends pleasant tingles down your spine.
“Beg,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand to coat his cock with your juices. There’s total silence apart from the crackling of the blue fire and the wet, slick sound his hand is making as he uses your wetness to pump his fist up and down.
You stare at each other, both daring the other to crack first. Fuck, why is he drawing this out?
“If you don’t want it, I’ll do it myself,” you bite, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. You can make him beg too. You lie on the blanket and run your hands down your body, your right hand finding your clit.
He releases the grip on his cock and leans over you again, for a second you think you’ve got him exactly where you want him and that he’s finally going to fuck you but instead, he flicks his tongue across your hard nipple.
“Fuck… Cormac,” you whine, and your hand works quicker between your bodies. You can feel his erection pressed against your inner thigh as heat envelopes your nipple and he sucks gently on the pebbled nub of skin.
Everything below your abdomen is hot, sticky and swollen. Your fingers work in rapid circles as your writhe under him, your chest heaving under his mouth. He lifts his head, exposing your nipple to the cool night air again and you gasp.
His lashes dip from your face to your hand moving shamelessly between your bodies.
“You’re so beautiful. I could watch you do this forever. Guess I’ll have to…”
You swear at him, feeling your orgasm rear its head again. There’s no turning back now. You pant, trying to squeeze your legs together but they meet his hips, preventing you from making the tension you need.
Without warning he grabs your wrists and roughly pins them on either side of your head. Your pussy twitches, furious at the sudden absence of friction.
“Fuck, I was about to -”
He pushes his hips on top of yours, rubbing the underside of his cock on your now throbbing clit. The pressure is much too light. You try and push up against him to get relief but he moves his hips back in retaliation, not allowing you to grind against him.
“You’re… you’re a nightmare,” you breathe, helplessly, your orgasm still glimmering just under the surface.
“You’re a dream.” And there it is again, that stupid, arrogant look on his beautiful face. He’s so… fucking hot like this. You want to hit him but your wrists are still pinned. You briefly consider headbutting him. “Come on, baby. You can say it. You can ask nicely.”
Fuck.
Your hips meet the blanket again as you squirm. It’s wet. Soaked in your arousal. His mouth returns to your chest, paying attention to your other nipple. This change of tactic means he moves his body again and the only relief you had on your clit disappears completely as he adjusts his position.
“No! Fuck.” You try to bring him back to you, struggling against his grip but ou’re no match for his strength.
Cormac pauses, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
“Cormac, please, fuck me,” you whimper.
“That’s more like it -“
“I - I need you. Like, now,” you interrupt.
He laughs and kisses your forehead. “Was that so hard?”
Cormac releases your wrist, grabs his cock and holds it against your entrance, his head resting between your folds.
Holy shit.
He brings his mouth to your ear. “I’ll be gentle.” He sucks your earlobe softly.
“I’m fine.”
You don’t want him to treat you like some delicate thing he’s scared to break just because it’s your first time with a man - scared to fuck you the way you know he wants to.
“So you keep saying. But I’ll be gentle anyway.”
And he lowers his hips towards yours.
You are not fine. But not in the way he means. You’re sober but your thoughts are clouded by an undeniable thirst for him. Right now all that matters is Cormac, his body, his cock pushing slowly into you.
If you thought his fingers felt big, it’s nothing compared to this. There’s no pain - you’re so fucking wet you feel him slip inside you with relative ease - there’s only pressure, beautiful and all-consuming as his cock fills you up.
“Shit, Cormac…” You bring your free hand up to his shoulder and grip onto it for dear life, your nails digging into his back.
“Are you-?”
“Fine - yes, Cormac. Fuck, yesyesyes,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.
Cormac releases your other wrist as he finally bottoms out so you can wrap your arms around him, feeling the muscles in his back flexing as he holds himself up. You open your eyes when you hear him groan.
His face is frowning in concentration. And you realise, he’s not as cool and cocky as he was pretending to be. He’s trying - really hard - not to lose control the moment he’s buried inside of you.
“Cormac?”
“You feel so good, baby... fuck.”
He drags his cock back out of you and you feel every inch before he slides it back in again, the base of him grinding dangerously against your clit.
“Are- are you close?”
He grits his teeth. “I’m fine.”
He’s not fine either. You realise he’s not going slowly for your benefit at all - if he picks up pace he’s going to succumb to his end. And so, he continues his torturous crusade of rolling his hips into you slowly, pushing sweetly into that spot in your centre that makes your breath catch in your throat.
It’s harrowing. Nothing like you imagined all those nights in your four-poster bed, curtains drawn as you fantasised about his cock, mercilessly fucking you hard, fast and quick. This is measured. Determined. Slowly breaking you down thrust by thrust.
His hands slip behind your shoulder blades as he pulls you close, pressing your face into his muscular neck. He’s all-consuming. You’re drowning in the dark, spicy scent of him as if you’ve plunged yourself headfirst into a cauldron full of Amortentia. You can’t take full gulps of air without choking on his pheromones. Although you’re not sure you ever want to breathe fresh air again.
He’s perfect. You firmly push back against the words floating on the surface of your mind - the urge to choke out between moans of pleasure that you’re maddeningly, irredeemably in love with him. Fuck.
You’re surprised to feel tears swimming in your eyes- you’re not sure if it’s from the intimate closeness of the way he holds you tightly or from the sensation of his cock filling you up, throbbing and sliding in and out of your soaking wet pussy.
Everything lifts and tightens up inside you again when you hear him groan, hot breath tickling your neck. You whisper his name right into his ear and he jerks his hips up unexpectedly in response. Then the next thrust is so deliciously deep it makes you squeeze your eyes shut and all you can see is the dancing blue flame behind your eyelids.
“Fuck… there,” your moan is stifled by the way your mouth is pressed against his shoulder, tasting the salty sweat on his skin.
Cormac’s low exhale is like grit. His back muscles tense when hears your plea but he keeps going, hitting the exact same perfect angle. Euphoria floods through your veins as you hit the point of no return.
“Cormac,” you pant as your pussy clamps down around him involuntarily. “I’m gonna-”
“Thank god,” he lifts his head from the crook of your neck. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out - oh fuck.” His expression changes when he sees your face - flushed, lips parted and your eyebrows knitted together. He curses helplessly and can’t help himself when he feels you tighten around him like a vice.
He fucks you through your orgasm, forcing noises from you you’ve never made before - something between a sob and his name is ripped from your throat. The blue flame in the jar is barely an ember compared to the wildfire running wild through your body.
It reminds him distinctly of those beautiful expressions you made on the Quidditch pitch last year when you were watching your team lose and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Fuck, that’s it, baby…” He sucks through his teeth. “Such pretty faces for me.”
The aftershock makes your muscles twitch around his cock, giving him silent permission to finally lose all self-control as he gazes into your out-of-focus eyes. You feel his cock pulsing as his release paints your insides and with a final, shuddering gasp he slumps on top of you, his heart beating furiously against your chest.
You both lie there for several moments. You feel like you’re glowing. Maybe you are - he certainly is. You trace your fingers on his back, watching as the light of the blue flame glistens on his sweat-soaked shoulder. You could fall asleep with him on top of you like this - you don’t even want to think about returning to the castle even though you know you have to.
“Sorry, I’ll stop crushing you,” exhales Cormac eventually, sliding his leaking cock out of you and heaving himself over onto his back. The absence of his body makes you realise how warm and comfortable his dead weight was.
“I didn’t mind. Hope the offer for your jumper still stands though.” You sit up and pull it over your head, and the smell of his aftershave on the cosy wool makes your skin tingle as it envelopes you.
“Looks better on you than me anyway.”
You draw your knees to your chest, looking out across the water. The sun has set and the only light comes from the small jar and the torchlit castle in the distance.
“Filch will have locked the front doors by now,” you think out loud.
“Fly to the astronomy tower, disillusionment charm to get us back to the common rooms - easy.”
“If I end up getting a detention and have to miss Quidditch practice I’ll kill you.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“You’re uncharacteristically stoic, Cormac.” You turn to look at him, lying with his hands behind his head. You tenderly run your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?” You smile at him fondly.
“I’m all good.”
Oh. Your stomach drops. Was it bad for him? “Should I be worried?”
“No, I just - I need to wait for the blood to return to my brain,” he says, staring up at the clear night sky.
“If you’re sure…”
“Otherwise I’d blurt out something very stupid. Like I was falling for you.”
“Well… I guess that would make us both idiots,” you sigh and grab the leftover marshmallows. He watches as you levitate a couple of them over the fire.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you smile and carefully send one of the marshmallows to hover above his face. “At least you didn’t blab it out when you were inside me like I almost did.”
“It was that good, eh?” He gives you a cocky smile before biting the marshmallow in mid-air. He regrets this immediately. “Ah- hot!” He sits bolt upright with his mouth open, full of the molten sugar burning his tongue, making him look considerably less cool than he was trying to be a second ago.
“I’ve changed my mind.” You say between giggles at his expense as he fans his open mouth. “I take it back.”
“Yeah, you wish,” he chuckles after he finally manages to choke down the marshmallow.
You don’t.
You don’t wish to take anything back at all.
Chapter 8: Incendio
#cormac mclaggen x female reader#cormac mclaggen#cormac mclaggen x reader#ravenclaw#ravenclaw fanfiction#smut#fanfic#harry potter and the half blood prince#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter
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Jacob Stone x Reader || Oneshot
Plot: You're sick and tired of constant jobs. I mean- you'll go, of course you will. There are people who need your help. But god--
All you want to do is still stay at home and make out with your hot artistic cowboy boyfriend on a Saturday. Is that s o much to ask??
Warnings: Sexual references maybe. Tiny ones.
🔆🔆🔆
The blinds are drawn shut, the room dark except for the shock of white daytime light slipping inside through the crack in the curtains; bars of white painting the middle of the bed and a strip of Jake's back a brighter colour. Music is playing softly in the background, something mellow and non-distracting that Jake picked since its his place- his stereo- his tunes.
You're laid out on the bed all-comfy, a pillow under the arch of your back and your legs wrapped around a beer-barrel waist and Jakes on top of you; holding himself up so he doesn't crush you, but ehhhh still crushing you a little. You love it.
A gentle, relaxed moan slips out of you when he parts from your lips for a second to take a tiny breath and switch sides, before pressing his soft mouth back to yours and slipping his talented tongue back between your lips; kissing you slowly, like the passionate poet he is.
-then suddenly a loud, obnoxious ringtone sounds and you're so surprised; you jump! You knock your forehead into Jake's and nip his bottom lip! "Ah! Shit- " Well, a little more then a nip. You actually bit him!-
"I'm sorry!" You exclaim, shocked and guilty as you both sit up and you watch him wide, worried eyes as he touches where you bit him. When he finds no blood, he just shrugs; flashing you a grin. An amused grin. Amused, at your panic (Like you're so fricken cute). "I'm so so sorry- "
"Don't worry about it. Now," His gaze wonders over to his phone on the dresser, and your heart falls; remembering the ringtone. Your hopes for a quiet, slow morning are crushed. "What was that?" As Jake reaches past you for the phone and presses answer, pressing it to his ear and straightening up again, you give a sigh.
"One guess." You pout, wrapping your arms around your knees and hugging them to your chest, a bored and annoyed look on your face as you watch him.
His eyebrows lift up hearing what's said through the phone that you cant hear, and he nods; Going into business mode. Damn. You were right- Without needing to know what exactly is being said, you let your legs hang over the side of the bed, touch the ground, and get up. You begin your search for your pants, still with that frustrated look on your face. Where did they end up last night??... We watched Dracula, I kicked off my shoes, then we went to sleep and I wiggled outta my jeans... ha! Over there- "Really?... Huh. Okay, yeah, Y/N'll meet ya at the library in 10- "
Jake stops talking, and you're not sure why, til you turn around and catch him looking at you. You raise your brows, like what?
"What's that look on your face?" He hisses (Well, mutters so whoever's on the other end of the phone cant hear him- but in his voice it sounds like a low, husky hiss), his eyebrows knitting together. He's already dressed, having been up writing on his laptop beside you when you finally ended your (Much deserved) sleep-in; and you kind of resent him for it. He's all put-together, he doesn't need a break- he's happy to go on another life-or-death mission right away! At the drop of a hat! As he should be! But you?? You feel like Grumpy the dwarf after a cut-short hibernation. All you want is to stay in bed with your cowboy and make out. Or sleep. Or watch more old movies. It doesn't really matter what you do, so long as its in bed.
You feel like you've been on missions non-stop lately; risking your life in a million different ways. It feels like you're fighting to survive so much that you're forgetting why.
"Nothing," You shrug, turning away again and grabbing your pants. After all, you cant complain. You're helping people! People need you, and Eve, and Jake and the other librarians. That fact is not lost on you, and honestly most of the time you love doing what you do--
But sometimes you're just... tired. Like today.
Eh, you'll get over it you guess.
"Nah. Nah nah nah- its not nothin'." You feel Jake's hand wrap around your wrist and pull you to him where he's moved to sit at the end of the bed. To the phone, he gives a quick 'call you back cass', before chucking it backwards on the bed and drawing you in closer; not once taking his intense eyes off of you. Usually you love those eyes, and honestly you do now too, but they are so full of smarts that you do sometimes you feel overwhelmed. Like you don't even have to talk- he already knows what's going on. And sometimes, like now, you just don't want him to know everything! "Tell me."
"Its really nothin- "
"Don't say that again," he shakes his head; a flicker of annoyance. "Go on, tell me."
You give him a look. "... no, I'm awful."
"First of all, you're the opposite." He brushes over that self deprecation quickly, nipping it in the bud before you can even truly feel it. "What? What- You don't wanna go to the library??"
"I- " How do you explain without sounding silly? Huffing out a sigh, you slip your wrists out of Jake's grip and run your hands through your hair. "I'm just tired, I guess. I know! Thats not an excuse to not save the world from monsters, or gods, or whatever the hell else wants to take over today- I know that. But I'm just- so- ughhh."
Slipping out from between his knees, you slump down on the edge of the bed beside him instead; dropping your face in your hands and your elbows onto your thighs. You don't doubt Jake's focused art-critic's eyes on the whole time. Analysing you like some old Rembrandt. Seeing your shame. "My bones feel heavy." You say, quietly.
A moment passes before you feel one of his hands on your back, rubbing up and down; working out the tight stress-filled knots in there. Then you hear his voice, but he's not talking to you??
"Hi again Cass- yeah, uh, on second thoughts we're actually gonna sit this one out. You guys got this, right?" Immediately you sit up stock-straight, turning to Jake with wide eyes. What?? You mouth, horrified.
He gives you a mystified look back. Mouths 'what?' back at you.
Your jaw drops.
"No no no- we can go! We can go! We can definitely- Thats not what I was saying." What is he doing?!? They need you two! They need him, for definite! Just because you're tired, doesn't mean you can just chuck a sickie!- "We have to go, Jake, don't- " When you reach for the phone to tell Cassandra that he's joking and you'll be there, Jake catches your hand and leans away from you, finishing up the call and preventing you from stopping him.
"Yeah yeah yeah, great. Thanks, Cass! Goodluck! Call me if you need us- yeah- bye!"
Then he hangs up and chucks the phone behind the bed, between the wall under the window and the mattress, where you cant get it.
You're half considering diving after it, but Jake starts rubbing comforting circles into your knuckles and you turn your gaze back to him; shocked and confused.
"... but- " Before you can argue with this decision, Jake leans over and kisses you. Its warm and slow and almost as good as before, making your head all fuzzy and quiet. He pulls back, and you struggle to open up your eyes again. ... still- "But-"
"Come on." Jake gives a comforting grin, a devastatingly handsome cowboy grin that makes your insides turn into mush and your shoulders relax. And he's still rubbing your back, so you're feeling so so sleepy and slow. "You're tired- I get it. We've been on mission after mission for weeks. Almost 2 months. And you've been so damn good with it, savin' our asses at least 10 times. They'll be fine without us this time, you know that." He assures you, which makes sense now that you're calm enough to hear it- they will be fine without the two of you. You all take individual jobs all the time, and besides- they have Flynn this time. Your perfect, sweet boyfriend gives a shrug of those broad shoulders of his. "'nd you deserve a break."
... taking hold of his hands, you lean in and press your forehead to his. "So do you." You say earnestly, gaze flickering over the bags under his beautiful eyes.
"Yeah. So lets do that, huh? Together. C'mon," When Jake gets up abruptly, letting go of one of your hands but keeping the other to tug you up with, rubbing those comforting circles back into your skin, you look up with curious eyes at him. "Lets getcha a cup a tea, or somethin'. Whadaya want? I'll order."
"Mmm... " You close your eyes and think, a tiny grin twitching onto your lips. "Um... pancakes." Pancakes sound like absolute heaven right now. Fluffy, and drenched in syrup, with some strawberries??
"Aw yeah, that sounds freaken good, actually."
When you open your eyes again and see him smiling, you nod and wrap your arms around his neck. You're thinking about pancakes, and restful bones, but also how good Jacob smells. And his weight on top of you. And the romantic timeless way he kisses. "Uhuh." He wraps his own around your waist, pulling you in against him. "... but first,"
"Hm?" He grunts, your noses brushing against eachother and him suddenly becoming quite distracted; being so close to your lips. "Wha?"
"... 20 more minutes in bed."
Immediately he nods, guiding you back onto the mattress and crawling over on top of you, adjusting your hips back over the pillow so you're comfortable. "Forty, at least."
#this is my first attempt at jake!! be kind!! ���#Jacob Stone x Reader Oneshot#Jacob Stone x Reader#Jacob Stone#Jake Stone x Reader Oneshot#Jake Stone x Reader#Jake Stone#The Librarians#The Librarians x Reader#The Librarians x Reader Oneshot
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changer ❧ teaser [sungchan]
❧ teaser word count: 1231
❧ warnings: just cursing for the teaser
❧ genre: fluff, mild angst, slow burn, blind date, strangers to idiots friends to lovers, modern magical creatures au, college au, werewolf sungchan, human reader, ft. siren shotaro & various magical neos (and another extra special guest appearance!), same universe as strawberry sunday
❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!)
❧ author’s note: so this is technically the spiritual threequel to my two werewolf jeno fics (pupsick + abh) but you don’t need to read those to understand this one at all! this is absolutely meant to be read by itself
❧ estimated release: saturday, september 23, 2023 2:00 p.m. eastern time
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!
After a long, refreshing inhale followed by an even longer exhale, you finally asked, “So what’s got you two in such a good mood? It certainly can’t just be finalizing the calendar of club activities this semester.”
Jaemin was Botany Club President, you the Vice President, and Donghyuck the Secretary/Treasurer, so this little sunbathing session before the start of the semester on Monday was really supposed to be an Executive Board meeting.
“Who, us?” Jaemin replied innocently.
“No, I was talking to the cardinal on Donghyuck’s leg,” you retorted sarcastically, gesturing to said bird that had also settled in to enjoy the cozy rays.
“We’re not planning anything,” Donghyuck said in the same tone as Jaemin.
You propped yourself up on one elbow to look down at your friend properly, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “I just wanted you to share whatever good news you had, I didn’t think you were planning anything, but now I definitely do. What’s going on?”
“Donghyuck, you idiot!” The other dryad hissed at him.
“What is it? Don’t tell me you and that fairy are going to try to convince your human friend that aliens are real again. Leave that poor guy alone, he’s got enough on his plate just dealing with all of you being real and jerks to him.” You scoffed disapprovingly, remembering when they recounted that story to you at club a couple years ago. You had been tempted to check on Renjun yourself when you spotted him at the library the next day, but you didn’t know him personally, and didn’t think he’d appreciate it in the moment. Especially not since he looked like he was really focused on his work at the time, so you just let him be.
“It’s nothing like that, I swear,” Jaemin promised. “It’s nothing bad at all.”
You sat up all the way to be able to look at both of them at once. “Okay, what is it then?”
Donghyuck sat up too, the cardinal hopping up to his shoulder. “Long story short, we have a friend that we want to set you up with.”
“No thanks, guys.” You shook your head.
“You won’t even let us tell you about him?”
“I’m not really looking for anything right now. Not after my ex—”
Jaemin pushed his phone screen in front of your face then, a picture of a guy on it. It was presumably the friend they wanted to set you up with. He was around your age, tall—if where his head was in comparison to the doorway of this building was to be believed, wearing a black leather jacket. It looked well-worn, though, as if it might not have been his originally, handed down or thrifted at least. And yeah, he was cute, you weren’t blind. But you also knew not to just eat with your eyes, or else you’d get a tummyache.
“Seriously, Jaemin?” You looked at your friend over the phone screen. “You think I’m that shallow? One picture and I’m going to throw everything away?”
“Dude, show her the—” Donghyuck flapped his hand at the other dryad insistently.
“Oh, right, right.” Jaemin nodded as he began swiping and tapping on his phone fervently.
Donghyuck kept talking to you, “Of course we don’t think you’re shallow. We always meant to tell you about him, too. His name’s Jung Sungchan, he goes here, too, he’s a werewolf, he’s really nice, uh… Jaemin? Some help?”
You let out a sound that was a mix between a snort and a scoff. “Yeah, he sounds great.”
“Okay, he’s really more Jaemin’s friend than mine, sorry,” Donghyuck admitted. “Jaemin? What’s taking so long dude?”
“I don’t know! I can’t find it for some reason, I think he deleted it!” Jaemin muttered, his voice panicked. “I’m checking Jeno’s Instagram right now.”
“So Jeno knows him?” You asked. You didn’t know Jaemin’s werewolf roommate as well as you knew the two dryads, but you did know that they were all friends. “Are they in the same pack?”
“No, they actually know each other through Jeno’s… Ha! Found it!” Jaemin yelled out in celebration, flipping his phone around for you to see.
It was another picture, this time of Jeno standing next to the person you now knew to be named Sungchan. They were at what looked like a u-pick strawberry patch, each proudly holding up a large bucket filled to the brim with strawberries. Sungchan was in a white tank top—a brave choice for a strawberry farm—and shorts. Despite the outfit showing off a lot more of him than the last picture, it was his bright, happy grin that caught your eye, and you had to consciously make sure your gaze didn’t linger too long on the picture.
Turning your attention back to your friends, you prompted Jaemin, “Well? Do you know any more about him than he goes to our college and is a nice werewolf that knows Jeno?”
“Right! Yes!” Jaemin sat up straight at attention as you saw Donghyuck do a little fist pump of victory out of the corner of your eye. “He’s tall—”
“I can see that, he’s like almost two heads taller than Jeno; I meant his personality. This isn’t me saying yes, by the way.” You pointed to yourself and Jaemin talking. “This is me gathering data. I wanted to take time for myself after what happened with my ex, remember? I think it might be enough time, but I need a bit more than ‘he’s nice’ to get me out there.”
“Of course, of course. I really appreciate you even considering this for us,” he squeezed your arm for a moment before letting it go. “He’s really smart, Dean’s List every semester, uh, it might take a minute for him to warm up at first, but once he does, he’s funny, and insightful. And he doesn’t have that constant go-go-go energy that werewolves usually do, he’s so much chiller, so if you were worried about that, don’t be.”
“And, sorry, I know he’s your friend, but I have to ask…” You winced. “He’s not one of those werewolf guys that only dates human girls as like… you know… an ego thing?”
Donghyuck snorted, “Oh he’s not, promise.”
Tension you didn’t know you’d been carrying in your shoulders relaxed at that. “Good.”
“We do have to tell you one thing though,” Jaemin grimaced.
“What?”
“This isn’t just a random set-up because we think you guys would be cute—”
“Oh God, what’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing! Nothing!” He rushed to reassure you. “Like, that part is true, we do think you’d be a good match.”
“Let me guess: the ‘but’ that follows that sentence is related to the ‘long story’ that Donghyuck mentioned earlier?”
Jaemin nodded reluctantly. “Yeah… long story long, Sungchan made a deal, and his end of it was letting us set him up with anybody of our choosing.”
“You’re using a date with me to punish him?” You stood up, brushing the grass off your back. “Yeah, hard fucking pass. Thanks, guys, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“No, not a punishment!” Jaemin scrambled to get to his feet as well. As you walked off, the air around you turned cold again, marking when you left their bubble of spring. He called after you, “Y/N! I’m sorry! Please!”
⤷ blog masterlist ⤷ anthology masterlist
#jungsung#jung sungchan#riize#sungchan x reader#riize x reader#riize imagines#sungchan imagines#riize sungchan#jung sungchan imagines#nct x reader#nct imagines#i: sungchan#f: changer#au: strawberry sunday#changer: teaser
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Omg the week of thanks event is so cute 🥺. This year I'm thankful for having such supportive friends who pushed me to start (and proud of myself for) going to therapy and being vulnerable. It's slow progress, but srsly life-changing stuff.
Ummm let's do jeonghan! And having a lazy Saturday morning reading by the window together or whatever jeonghan would do while you're reading. With hot cocoa cuz why not
//week of thanks 🍁
haha, i've been thinking a lot about things i'm grateful for, so i was curious about everyone's answers, too. i'm really happy to hear that you have such a strong support system — it can be hard to find genuine friends, and it sounds like they have your best interest at heart. sometimes the greatest, most life-changing work is also the slowest, most frustrating work :) i hope therapy continues to help!!
Jeonghan's side of the bed is cold when you wake up; that isn't what you expected to wake up to, especially not on your day off.
Slipping on your long socks and heading out to the living room, you find him wrapped in warm blankets, glasses low on his nose as he reads your newest book.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he says as soon as he sees you, opening up his cocoon of warmth for you to slot yourself between his legs. He closes you in once you're settled. "Did you want anything today?"
"Mhm, for you to not spoil the next chapter," you respond, biting back a yawn. "You can always borrow your own books from the library, y'know. You don't have to steal the books that I get all the time."
"Yeah, but then I need to choose." He wrinkles his nose. "Why bother when I have your gorgeous brain doing that for me already?"
#seventeen scenarios#jeonghan scenarios#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#jeonghan fluff#g: svt#m: jeonghan#t: drabble#s: request#anonymous#ravixen#week of thanks#domesticau
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-Is There Anything I Can Do to Help? w/ Epel Felmier-
Sometimes ‘I love you’ is said a little differently. In this case, Epel does his best to lighten the load Crowley gives Titania.
“Sorry, I can’t come over tomorrow,” Titania says over the phone. Epel can hear the exhaustion in her voice as he sprawls across his dorm bed. He pouts and can’t fight the sigh that escapes his lips which only makes her chuckle. “I know, I was looking forward to it, but Crowley needs to take care of his absurd assignments.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks. He didn’t necessarily want to spend his Saturday running errands for the Headmage, but if he was able to spend more time with Titania he was willing.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t want you to waste your Saturday doing chores with me,” she says and he tries not to sigh again. That wasn’t the point! He wants to argue back but then he gets an idea.
“If you finish up early, do you think you’d still be able to come over?” he asks. Titania hums on the other end, then eventually agrees.
“Yeah, but it might not be ‘til really late,” she says and Epel smiles.
“That’s fine!” he says. “I’ll wait for you.” She laughs and he bites his lip to keep from smiling too much. He wishes her a good night and hangs up, then immediately texts Ace and Deuce.
From: Epel (8:42 PM)
Did Titania tell you what she
has to do for Crowley tomorrow?
From: Ace (8:43 PM)
Why do you want to know, huh?
From: Deuce (8:43 PM)
Yeah, she did :)
From: Ace (8:43 PM)
Dude!
From: Epel (8:44 PM)
Lemme have the list.
From: Epel (8:44 PM)
She said she can’t hang out
‘til she gets them all done so
I’m gonna do some for her.
From: Deuce (8:44 PM)
Awwww, that’s sweet.
From: Ace (8:45 PM)
Yeah, yeah, hang on let me
find what she said.
Ace sends Epel the list of chores and tells him that she usually sleeps in regardless, so his best bet would be to wake up early. No one wants to set their alarm for before ten a.m. on a weekend, but he thinks about how surprised and happy she’ll be when she finds out he did her chores. That thought gives him the courage.
The next morning, he eats breakfast quickly and reviews his plan for the day. First, he would go to the library to sort books. Then, he needs to deliver some documents for Professor Trein before checking on the greenhouse for Professor Crewel. The library would take the longest so he decides that’s where he’ll start.
The campus is relatively empty this early in the morning, but Epel passes the Equestrian Club on their way to the stables. They exchange brief hello’s but Epel’s a man on a mission so he doesn’t slow down even as they ask him why he’s going to the library. When he reaches it, he finds the pile of discarded books the Headmage needs put away and he groans internally at the size of it.
“Surely these can’t all be from Crowley,” he mutters as he runs his eyes over the titles. If Vil were here, he’d probably be able to wave his hand and send all the books flying to their proper location. Epel hasn’t quite gotten to that level of magic mastery so he pushes up his sleeves and gets to work the old fashioned way.
He runs back and forth between the table and the maze of shelves and by the time he finishes, he thinks he might have the entire library’s collection memorized. Still, this is no time for slacking! Sorting the books takes longer than he expected and he dashes off to the faculty office to collect the documents for Trein. He finds them in a folder on top of the counter and as he goes to retrieve them, he hears Coach Vargas behind him.
“Up and at ‘em already, Felmier?” the coach laughs. “It’s good to train early, even on weekends.”
“Oh, no, sir,” Epel responds. “I’m delivering these to Professor Trein.” He shows Vargas the folder and the coach raises an eyebrow.
“Hm, I thought the Headmage was supposed to do that.”
“He asked Titania to do it for him, so I’m helping her out,” Epel explains.
Vargas sighs and shakes his head. “Of course, he asked her,” he mutters. “Well, thanks for your help.”
Epel excuses himself and heads to Trein’s classroom where he's greeted with similar questions about Crowley’s delegation of tasks. Trein looks even more peeved than Vargas did and mutters about having a discussion with the Headmage which Epel pretends he doesn’t hear. Trein gives him an impromptu delivery assignment (some herbs that needed to be given to Crewel) and once he finishes that, he makes his way to the greenhouse. Professor Crewel instructs him to just focus on pulling weeds out around the third year’s assignment plot which seems manageable enough. Epel thinks he can even finish it up before noon, then he can go to Ramshackle and surprise Titania!
The only issue is Titania’s waiting for him in the greenhouse when he arrives. “Gah!” he shouts. “What are you doing here!?”
“That’s my question,” she says. She crosses her arms and gives him a pointed stare. “I went to deliver the file for Trein and he said you’d already done that AND sorted the library books AND taken the herbs to Crewel.”
“...Are you mad at me?” he asks. He did technically go behind her back even if he had good intentions.
Titania shakes her head and a small smile appears on her face. “You,” she begins, “are going to be the death of me.” She crosses the greenhouse to Epel and presses a kiss on the corner of his lips. Chaste and swift, she pulls back before Epel’s brain can catch up with his burning face. “Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch.”
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Okiokiiki we have the idea of the trio throwing knifes at apples on each others heads, and obviously the iconic fight and general idea of them using the training rooms- what other fun activities do u think the trio got up to while all still friends? (Also if u have any more extremely sad hcs, as i too choose pain and angst today ehhe)
Yusssss
For one on one activities:
-Sephiroth and Genesis enjoy basically any means of petty competition. It's how they flirt show their appreciation for each other's talents. They particularly enjoy a long game of chess on a slow day. Seph typically wins as he has a mind for strategy. But Genesis always makes a big show whenever he gets the upper hand and triumphs.
-Genesis and Angeal are basically drinking buddies. They spend their Saturday evenings boozing it up at some bar or nightclub, more than often reminiscing about Banora. Gen often tries to hook Angeal up with people but it never comes to pass.
-Seph and Angeal share an unspoken love of just strolling through the woods together whenever they're out of Midgar. It's not so much patrol as just quietly enjoying nature. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they're dead silent. But there is a genuine affection in it. Simply sharing each other's company in peaceful surroundings.
For when they're all together:
-Genesis loves dragging Seph and Angeal to all sorts of risque places in hopes of embarrassing the hell out of them. All in good fun of course. Angeal laughs it off while Sephiroth mostly just sits there steaming and sulking.
-They always use the HQ library at the same time. A trio of idiots stooping over the shelves, probably to look up the dictionary definition of something because Gen wanted to be cheeky.
-They all take their vacations together so BEACH DAYYY YEAH ⛱️ Angeal makes friends with crabs, Sephiroth spends most of the day hiding in the shade, and Genesis nearly drowns four different times.
-Angeal loves cooking so they sometimes go hang in his room to eat. It's a semi potluck. Except Genesis mostly just brings alcohol and Sephiroth brings....napkins (he's trying his best ok).
-Once, Angeal and Genesis both became mutually obsessed with a propaganda video game tie-in for Stamp the dog. This culminated in a month long binge at the company computers that almost completely ruined their friendship. They don't want to talk about it. Don't ask.
-They are frequently required to attend regular social events together so they are always pretty much attached throughout the event. Sephiroth does not like crowds or public speaking so they are basically his guard dogs.
-Honestly they pretty much do everything together. They're always on missions together, eat together, train together, exercise together. They're pretty much linked at the hip 24/7.
So for your sad HC...
After both Genesis and Angeal are gone, Sephiroth often finds himself trying to revisit or recreate their old haunts. Lots of trying to fill the conversation. Lots of pushing himself to explore what they would have said/done here. Lots of filling the void any way that he can.
And sometimes, he just talks to himself in their place. Muttered under his breath, only when he's alone.
It doesn't help.
It's here, in these middle months of complete loneliness and self-imposed isolation, that Sephiroth's sleeping issues begin to worsen, the shape of the red-eyed hallucination drawing closer and closer. And, little by little, he begins to wonder if he may, in fact, be starting to lose his mind...
#Sephcanons#Gencanons#Honorcanons#angeal hewley#ff7#sephiroth#crisis core#ffvii#asks#final fantasy 7#AGS
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Interview: 1 (Raymond)
Word count: 768
Content warnings: Mild swearing
Synopsis: While on a late night run, Raymond came face to face with a strange woman. Now he tells us his story.
[8:15 pm; The night is cold but the room we’re in is rather warm. Raymond is sitting across from me, tapping his fingers nervously on the table. He’s looking around the room, waiting for me to finish typing.]
(Raymond. Tell me a bit about yourself.)
My name is Raymond Davis. I’m 21 years old, I’m a business major, and I play football. Is that good?
(Yes, that’s good. So, tell me your story.)
Well, the night it happened was really cold. It’s not like I’m a sensitive person or anything, but it was freezing that night. I was wearing multiple layers: a long sleeve shirt, a sweater, long pants, everything and I was still cold!
I just wanted to make that clear.
I went out for a late night run, about 10:00 I think, around campus. Usually there are still at least a couple people walking around, being a Saturday and all, but it was unusually quiet that night. I guess no one wanted to catch hypothermia. But yeah, the plan was to jog along the backroad up to the library then run along the main road to get back to my dorm.
(So from the library you’d go across campus to get to the street?)
Yeah, I’d run up to the library then go across campus- You’re a student here, right?
(Yes, I am)
Okay, sorry, I’ve just never seen you around. So yeah, I’d go from the backroad, run across campus between the buildings, then I’d reach the main street. This campus is built weird. There’s too many dark corners and weird alleyways.
But yeah, I got to the library just fine then I started heading across campus. As I was rounding a corner, I saw this girl. She was crouched down, picking at the ground. It was too dark to see her face but I knew who she was. There's this girl that I’ve seen around campus picking up trash with her bare hands. My friends call her Pacifica… because of that trash island in the Pacific Ocean. It’s a code name. We’re not rude people, I think it’s a deserved nickname, it’s gross that she’s touching that shit with no gloves or anything. If she wants to pick up trash she should go join an environmental club or something. Or go volunteer. It would be good for her. I don’t think she has any friends, I never see her with anyone.
But yeah, I didn’t mean to but I started slowing down as I was going past her. It seemed like she was digging into the dirt. I slowed to a stop and watched her for a moment. She was wearing a short sleeve shirt and a skirt. Then I saw that she was barefoot and I almost gagged. Her feet were completely black and just caked in dirt. I said to her, “Hey, don’t touch that shit, that’s fucking nasty!” or something like that. I don’t remember exactly. I’m not a bad person, I just think people like her need to be yelled at sometimes.
(People like her?)
Crazy people. After I said that, she pulled out a box cutter! I don’t even know where she pulled it out from. She looked me up and down then lunged at me. My fight or flight kicked in and I sprinted as fast as I could back to my dorm. At some point she must’ve stopped chasing me because I got back in one piece. When I got to my room I called my friends and told them what happened. They all agreed that we should find her and confront her. We didn’t want to go to the police because who’d believe me? I’m 6 feet tall and she’s pretty much skin and bones. If she didn’t have a weapon I would have beat her up that night. In self defense. But yeah, we tried to find her but we never saw her again. We asked around but it was either, “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” or “no, I haven’t seen her.” Now that I think about it, I don’t think she was a student here. I’ve never seen her go to class and I’ve never talked to anyone who had a class with her.
Nothing has happened since then though.
(Is there anything else you’d like to say?)
[There was a long pause before he answered.]
No, that’s it.
(Do you promise that this is all 100% true-)
YES IT’S ALL TRUE! Why would I make this up? People like her need to be locked up somewhere. Away from normal people.
[End.]
#sh4dowsdi3#writers on tumblr#writeblr#short story#fiction#original story#original writing#horror fiction#horror#horror short story
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Looking forward to brighter days
I'm not ready to talk to you yet.
I know. I'm still patient. You're processing a lot.
I've tested positive for COVID.
I know.
For EIGHT DAYS IN A ROW.
I can see why you've been hesitant to talk to me.
EIGHT FUCKING DAYS
Now, be fair, you only tested on Saturday, Tuesday, and Saturday. You may be in a COVID loop with your wife.
That doesn't make things better. I'm never leaving this house again, am I?
There you go being a fatalist. You will, one day, leave the house again.
Really?
Maybe feet first on a stretcher.
Aren't you a barrel of laughs today.
Okay, so sarcasm isn't going to get through to you. You realize that everything is temporary, right? Nothing lasts forever.
I won't live long enough to prove that.
Nobody will, but we have it on good authority that entropy will win in the end. We can't stop it. You won't be stuck in the house forever. You know that. Is it reasonable that you're now permanently sick? Have you ever recovered from diseases?
You know I have, but not this one.
You lasted three years before you got hit. It was stupid trusting to go out unmasked after the mandate lifted. Yet you did it. You made a mistake and this is the natural consequence of it.
Yeah, that makes me feel better about this whole mess.
What it means is that you are practicing voluntary discomfort.
This is rather involuntary.
It doesn't have to be.
What?
Think about it. One of things you've cooked up is an experiment to see how well you could survive in a single room for 30 days. A bed, a computer, a bathroom, a guitar, and a place to exercise.
And books.
Yeah, yeah, books. You can't live without your library. I know. You've had this idea in your head for a long time and you solved a lot of problems, like where your meals would come from.
Only that meals would be delivered. I never really thought about laundry, either.
There are clothes that can wash in a shower. No worries there. You came up with this idea as some sort of performance art thing. You've let it play in your head multiple times. I've watched it over and over again. Well, now you're living it. Only you aren't alone. You have a wife.
She's a little frustrated, too.
As long as she's not frustrating. And even then what are you doing to make her life easier? Are you actually folding the laundry you're doing or just leaving it in the dryer? Are you cooking anything or are you letting her do all the cooking again? Are you cleaning? You are expecting a visit from family and your house is a mess. Are you ready for them to show up and get the tour?
No. I've cooked a few meals, but no, I'm not.
So you have a place to improve. You can't go out to eat, so the logical necessity is dishes will need to be done more often. In fact I think you loaded the dishwasher but didn't actually start it.
I did not.
Another place for you to improve.
What are you trying to pull here?
I'm trying to kick you in the metaphorical ass because you're being a whiny bitch and maybe some tough love is what it will take to get you to behave like a human being. You can still do almost everything you want to do. You can still play guitar. You can still write. You can still read. You can even play that stupid Minceraft game.
Minecraft.
I know what I said. You can probably even take a walk outside if you don't get near people. That would require you to wear socks, though. How are feet doing? Still swelling?
You know it.
Because you're wallowing in this misery and I'm sick of it. Get out of here and go do what you need to do. I'm going to take a bath.
You're a mental construct, a part of my head.
Or are you a part of my head? The inner child I have to shepherd to adulthood?
Hey now....
See, you're getting pissed off at being called a child. You were always angry over that, even when you were a kid.
So, I should stop being a shit about things and do what I can.
Exactly. COVID is slowing you down and giving you coughing fits and the sniffles but you've got it relatively easy. You've lost your upper range. So what? It will come back or you'll learn to sing as a proper bass.
I've got things to do.
I know you do.
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Gimme More
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader (OTP ninja and puppy), implied Ari Levinson x Ransom Drysdale and Ari x Ransom x reader
Words: ~1k
Summary: Ari and Ransom have a surprise for you.
Warnings: explicit language, sex work, alcohol consumption, good natured teasing, future sexy times implied, Ransom is lil bit of a sex goddess (that’s right, goddess), 18+ ONLY!!
A/N: Quick, dirty, fun, and sweet, I love these three together so much, and they’re gonna get even better once we add cubby to the mix!!
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!
“No, Ari!” You tried to dig your feet in when Ari started dragging you towards the stage, but it was useless, the man was a beast. “I’m already getting dirty looks, I don’t think all these men are gonna appreciate me hogging prime real estate in front of the dancers. I’m pretty sure they already think I’m your hag.”
“Gorgeous, who fucking cares?” He grinned and kissed your forehead when he shoved you into the seat, sinking next to you and throwing a massive arm around your shoulders. “We’re celebrating your engagement, just relax and have a good time.”
“Yeah, my engagement, so why the fuck are we at a gay strip club?” You scrunched up your nose and scowled when he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple, his eyes drifting to the dancer who was grinding into the stage in front of you and tucked some bills into his g-string with a wink while you rolled your eyes. “And where is my fiancé? He disappeared a half hour ago, how are we supposed to be celebrating when he’s not even here?”
“Don’t worry so much.” Ari kept eye fucking the stripper while his hand trailed over your arm, winking at the twink when he giggled and collected his money from the stage before running off. “You’re gonna ruin your surprise.”
You were about to jump all over that hint when the DJ announcing the next dancer interrupted you.
“Alright, hope y’all are ready for a throwback, because we’ve got a doozy for you. Please welcome to the stage, for one night only, Gemini!”
“Ha, that was Ran’s…” you froze when you saw the dancer that was strutting onto the stage in nothing but a rhinestone studded body stocking and what you were hoping was a flesh colored thong, the way his hips were swaying making your mouth water. “Holy shit!”
Ari cackled and snatched your hand when you smacked his chest, kissing your palm while you gaped at Ransom draping himself over the pole in a lewd pose while he winked at you. You squealed when a slow cover of Toxic came over the speakers and he started rolling his body to the music, leaning forward with a dopey grin on your face when he slinked around the pole and swayed lasciviously.
God, you were mesmerized by him. You knew he could dance, hell, he’d given you enough lap dance by this point it was practically tradition for you Saturday nights. But watching him climb that pole and twirl around it and arch his whole body in those beautiful lines? You were fighting the urge to climb on the stage and lick him all over.
And his floor work, he moved like a fucking sex god, like he was made to take cock and eat pussy and anyone who thought different was a fucking moron. You audibly moaned when he sprawled himself across the stage right in front of you and arched his whole body so fucking beautifully you almost reached out to yank him towards you, barely even registering that all the men around the stage were literally throwing money at your fiancé while Ari just grinned and slapped a pile of cash on the stage.
“Hey baby.” He rolled onto his stomach and grinned at you, raising himself up on his knees and rolling his body slowly while your eyes raked over him. “How do you like your surprise?”
“It’s real good… shit.” You hissed when he bent forward and pressed his upper body to the stage and wiggled his ass in the air, like a fucking cat. “Baby, I’m gonna fucking wreck you.”
“I know, baby, love surprising you.” He leaned forward and brushed his nose over yours with a low purr, ignoring the groans from the rest of the patrons at the public display of affection to give you a peck on the lips.
“All of you shut up, they’re engaged!” The dj scolded the men who were grumbling about you with an indulgent grin, winking at Ransom when the music died out and he started to collect his tips. “And we all love her, we just tolerate your asses, so be nice to them, and thank you for contributing to their honeymoon fund!”
“If we have to watch him kiss someone, we’d rather it be the bear!” You didn’t see who said it, but it sounded like someone you could be friends with.
Ransom just shrugged and grabbed Ari by his hair, yanking him towards him and giving him an extremely filthy kiss that had you laughing exuberantly. That got some cheers, Ran turning to beam at the crowd before he was hopping off the stage with his tips and running a hand over your neck.
“I’m gonna go change, babe.” He gave you a small yelp when you smacked his ass. “Then the guys want to do one more round of shots with you, and then we can go home and give you the rest of your present.”
“First off, don’t you dare fucking change, are you kidding me Ran?” You snapped one of the straps of his stocking against his hip and groaned at the sound it made. “Yes to shots, and what’s the rest of my present?”
“Fine, I’ll leave on the outfit, but I’m taking these heels off, I haven’t worn spikes in too long and my feet are dying.” He shook his head when you gave him a sullen pout. “And the rest of your present may or may not involve watching a certain video me and the bear took when you had to go to that conference last month.”
“Shit, you actually did it?!” You moaned at the thought of what could possibly be on that video, watching Ransom’s ass as he walked away and biting your lip with an appreciative hum. “Hey, Ar, how hard would it be to install a pole in the white room?”
#natalie writes#no love like your love au#ninja and puppy#ransom drysdale#ari levinson#ransom drysdale au#ransom drysdale x you#ransom drysdale x y/n#ransom x you#ransom drysdale x female reader#ransom drysdale x reader#ari levinson x ransom drysdale x reader#chris evans#chris evans characters#eighteen and over#eighteen plus
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Day 121: Record
"I found some weird box full of muggle stuff," Ron called, carrying said weird box out into the open living room that Hermione and Draco were working in since they had mandatory cleaning on Saturday mornings for everyone who lived in Grimmauld. "I don't even know what these are," he added, holding up flat, black circles with holes in the middle.
"They're records," Hermione replied, glancing up from the cabinet she was working on cleaning out. "They play music," she elaborated.
Ron made a face, "They're probably junk," he replied.
"What are?" Harry asked as he emerged from the creepy closet off of the kitchen, covered in spider webs.
"These records," Ron said, kicking the box with his toe.
"Oh," Harry said, making his way over, "Were they Sirius', do you reckon?"
"It says 'Lily Evans' on the side," Draco pointed out.
"Probably junk either way," Ron said.
Draco Malfoy had spent more than half of his life in love with Harry Potter. He might not have called it love when he was young but the older he got, the more clear it became that he had been a lovesick idiot for most of his life. He'd spent a lifetime memorizing every detail of that face. So he couldn't really be blamed for noticing the split second of hurt that flashed across Harry's face before he nodded, "Yeah. You're probably right. I'll just run them out to the bin."
"Let me," he said before he'd really formed a plan. "I've got all this to take out anyway," he said, gesturing to the box of junk that he'd weeded out this morning. "And we all know that Kreacher has less of a problem with it when I do it."
Harry gave him a little smile that Draco wondered if anyone believed was genuine. "Thanks," he said.
Draco levitated his box and the box of records and headed down toward the kitchen. When he was out of ear shot he murmured, "Kreacher," and the elf appeared.
"Yes, Master Draco?"
"Hi," he said, giving him a little nod, "Could you help me with something?"
"Anything!" he replied, nodding hard enough that his ears flapped.
"Could you hold onto this box for me?" he asked, gesturing to the box with the records.
"Of course," he said, immediately taking the box and disappearing.
Draco nodded in satisfaction and started plotting how he'd learn enough about records that he could help Harry use his mother's.
(Read more below the cut)
Two weeks later, on another Saturday morning cleaning day, he still hadn't made much progress. Luna had actually been the most helpful but he hadn't any idea where to find a record player.
But as luck would have it, one turned up in the library, tucked in a cabinet behind some very dusty potion vials and a rusted old cauldron. "Kreacher," he whispered.
When he appeared he held out the record player and asked him to keep it with the records.
He felt quite pleased with himself now that he'd found the record player; he was certain that he'd be able to play records for Harry in no time.
-------------
It took a couple more weeks. Figuring out how to get electricity into the house was no easy feat (but it was easier once he found out that someone, Sirius he suspected, had done it before).
When Harry arrived home that evening, Draco dragged him into the living room, "Draco, what is going on?" he asked, laughing at him as he tried to get him to hurry up.
"I have something for you," he said, nudging him into the room and presenting the record player. "Ta da!"
"Err," Harry said, looking more closely at it, "What is it?"
"It's a record player," he said.
Harry's head whipped around so fast that it made Draco feel dizzy, "What?" he whispered.
"I found it," Draco said, "when I was cleaning in the library. And I thought you might," he shrugged and reached for the box of records, holding it out to Harry, "I thought you might want to listen to them."
The other man looked at him then down at the box in his hands, eyes wide as he reached out a trembling hand to brush his fingers over the spot where 'Lily Evans' was inscribed on the cardboard box. "You," he started before breaking off and covering his mouth with his hand. "I don't know what to say," he whispered.
His heart was full to bursting and he was pretty sure he'd never done anything as good as this in his life. "Would you like to listen to one?"
Harry looked up at him and nodded.
Carefully, he took out the record on the top and slipped it out of it's jacket, "Ella Fitzgerald," he said. "I've no idea who that is."
"Me either," Harry replied, coming closer to watch over Draco's shoulder as he set the record on the plate, turned the player on, and set the needle.
Music spilled forth entrancing them both, It's not the pale moon that excites me, that thrills and delights me, oh no, it's just the nearness of you.
"Wow," Harry murmured, watching the record spin. He turned to Draco, "I can't tell you what this means to me," he whispered. "Thank you."
He shrugged but couldn't quite keep the pleased smile from his face. "You're welcome."
Harry looked back at the record player before looking over at Draco again, "Do you want to sit and listen with me?"
He nodded, "I'd like that very much."
------------
It became something that the two of them did together fairly regularly after that. Sometimes they'd sit together and read while they listened to records, sometimes they'd talk while they listened, or catch up on work, or just listen together but it quickly became Draco's favorite pastime.
One Friday night while Ron and Hermione were out on a date, Ginny was away for a tournament, and Luna was working late, the two of them put on a record and ate dinner in the living room, continuing to drink wine while they talked and laughed long after their pasta was gone.
As the Bob Marley album, Exodus, came to an end, Draco stood up and made his way over to the box. "Etta James," he read, "At Last." He smiled and showed it to Harry, "look, she drew little hearts next to the song titles."
Harry smiled that melancholy sort of smile that made Draco ache inside. "Let's hear it, then."
Draco put it on for them and plopped back down on the floor in front of the sofa, his side mere inches away from Harry's, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"I like this one," Harry sighed thirty seconds in as he leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "Do you think they used to dance to this one?" he murmured wistfully.
Draco's heart clenched painfully as he was overwhelmed by the sense of loss that Harry must feel constantly. He had to take a slow deep breath before he responded. "Maybe," he whispered back.
The corner of Harry's mouth curled up in a soft smile, "I think they liked to dance," he murmured. "Hagrid gave me a picture of the two of them dancing together when I was at Hogwarts."
"Yeah?" he asked, hoping Harry would say more about that.
Harry nodded, "They looked really happy, you know?" he said. "Like they were the only two people in the world, like they weren't in the middle of a war," he sighed. "I like to imagine both of them dancing with me when I was a baby," he confessed in a whisper, "when I was crying or something. I like to imagine that the love that saved my life was tangible all the time, you know?" he murmured.
"I'm sure it was," Draco said softly.
He leaned over and rested his head on Draco's shoulder and Draco hardly dared to breathe. After a moment Harry said, "Would you dance with me?"
"Yes," he breathed immediately. "Yeah, of course I would."
"Yeah?" Harry asked, sitting up slightly to look at him.
Draco nodded and stood up, reaching for Harry's hand and tugging him up after him. He kept Harry left hand in his right and wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulder, leaving space for Harry's right arm around his waist.
The other man hummed softly, drawing Draco in a little closer and closing his eyes as they swayed around the room. Draco couldn't stop staring; at the way Harry's eyelashes were long enough that they brushed his glasses, at the tiny nearly invisible freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, at the barely visible wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, at his lovely full lips, and the way his stubble looked against his skin.
I love you he couldn't help but think, over and over like it was a personal mantra, like it was the only thing that could keep him alive; he ached with it, with the desire to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him what he really thought of him, to build a life with him, to give him everything that he deserved to have.
Harry's eyes blinked open as the song came to an end, his brows furrowing slightly as he brought his hand up to cup Draco's cheek, "Are you alright?" he asked softly, wiping a tear that had slipped out.
"Merlin, sorry," Draco said, taking a step back to wipe his eyes. "Sorry. It's just your life has been so unfair and when I think about you not really knowing your parents and having to live with your shitty relatives, and-" he choked on the tears.
"Hey," Harry murmured, pulling Draco back into his arms and rubbing his back, "Hey, it's alright."
"It's not alright," he managed.
"Well, no," Harry agreed, "I suppose it isn't. But it's all past now," he said. "Now I have my friends and I live with people who love me and whom I love," he carded his fingers through the hair at the base of Draco's neck. "Ron and Hermione, Luna and Ginny," he swallowed, "you."
"I just wish," he started before breaking off because finishing that sentence would be showing far too much of his hand.
Harry drew back slightly to look at him, "What?"
His eyes were so open, so earnest that Draco couldn't help himself. "I wish you'd let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."
The other man blinked, "What do you mean?"
"Promise me that nothing changes if you don't like what I have to say," he said, clenching his fingers in Harry's t-shirt.
"I promise. You're one of my best friends, Draco," he assured.
He took a deep breath, "I'm in love with you," he finally managed. "And I just want to love you, all the time. I want to hold your hand, and dance with you, and make you laugh, and surprise you. I want so many things for you-"
"Me too," Harry interrupted. "I'm in love with you, too, I mean."
"Really?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it, his eyes welling up with tears again.
"Oh, love," Harry said with a little smile, wiping Draco's eyes with his thumbs, "Yes, really. Come here," he said, pulling him in closer and swaying to the music, letting Draco cling to him as they moved together.
As they continued to dance, Harry started to tell him all of the things that he dreamed about for the future together. Painting a picture of the beautiful life they could have and after a few minutes, Draco joined in, adding bits of his hopes as well.
They stayed up late into the night, talking and dreaming of the life they wanted to give each other. And every time they fought after that, one of them would get out the record player and they'd dance together and remind each other of the lives they wanted to build.
----------------
Day 120: Tough | Day 122: Moon
#100 drabbles in 100 days#one year of drarry drabbles#drarry#drarry ficlets#drarry drabbles#fluff#pining#like a lot of pining#boys in love#love confessions#acts of love#this one got away from me#but I sort of love it#getting together#friends to lovers
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