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#I did this one first because like I said; I had this idea floating around longer
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Find the word
Thanks @aziz-reads for the tag!
Rules: find the words given in your WIPs, then tag people with more words!
My words: frame, vain, stake, fix
Your words: refuse, beam, own, product
Softly tagging with no pressure @mk-writes-stuff @sleepywriter00 @nailamoonsi @somethingclevermahogony @eccaiia @bread-roses-and-chrome @gottestod-writes + anyone else
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites
Keep reading for:
Rose's home life (CW: neglectful parent)
Akash is happy Gwen pissed Carmen off
Robbie and Lexi meet
Debate about screen brightness
Frame - The Secret Portal Part One (Rose POV)
I let out a high-pitched grunt of annoyance before stomping off to my room. A part of me knew she was right. I should’ve brought my keys as a backup plan. She wasn't reliable anyway. As I opened the door to my room, I glanced back at my mother as she sat back on the couch, watching the telenovela that was playing. I turned away, slamming the door to my room behind me, hoping my mother would tell me I wasn't allowed to do that. But there was no correction. I tossed my backpack to the side harshly. It slammed into the wall and knocked a picture frame down to the floor. I bent down and picked quickly hung it back up so I wouldn’t have to look at my three-month-old self in my mom’s smiling arms as my smiling dad had his arm wrapped around her. My room was the only splash of color in this house—the only part of my house that deserved to be called home. My art supplies got their own shelf and were organized the way I want. My projects I kept in my sketchbook, which I never showed my mom. She didn’t like the way I decorated my room or any of my designs. She loved to tell me I needed to apply myself to school as much as my art. But even if I did apply myself more in school, she wouldn’t notice. I collapsed onto my bed and screamed into the pillow, then lay there for a couple of minutes, taking in the scent.
Vain Cocky (closest synonym) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)
I’d overheard Dr. Moon say something about “powers,” so maybe that’s what he meant. It sounded strange, but Akash was floating. Dr. Moon said that I could be showing “several” abilities, so that was weird, too. Did I have a power? Context alone indicated that. They didn’t see me…. My mind spun, so I looked back at Akash as I followed him down the next hall. At first, I thought he was being cocky and showing off his strange, supernatural ability, but that demeanor seemed only a façade—nothing more. Maybe flying was simply that fun. Or maybe I was distracted because he was cute, but I didn’t think I was that shallow. “So, Gwen,” Akash said, turning around to fly backward. “Where’re you from?” “Clear Lake City,” I said. “Texas.” Akash smiled. “Southlake. Up near Dallas. How cool is it we’re both from Texas?” I stared at him. “You’re not from here?” I didn’t exactly know where here was, but all the same, I could figure I wasn’t in Texas anymore. Akash stopped mid-flight, causing me to abruptly halt. “No. Dr. Moon and Dr. Asghar only take Alii from our side. Ceteri. That’s what they call it.” He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t they tell you?” “No. They kidnapped us and locked us in this purple-glowing-thing. The dampener? Is that what you said?” Akash nodded. “What did they do?” Akash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s how they got me and my buddy, Robbie. They’re actually okay once you get to know them. Questionable methods, but their hearts, I know how it sounds, are in the right place. Hey, what powers do you have?” “Powers?” I repeated. My thought was right. “Yeah,” said Akash. “You’re Alii, aren’t you?” “I have no idea what you’re saying,” I admitted. “What does Alii mean? One of the doctors mentioned that. Is it Latin?” Akash scrunched his eyebrows. “You don’t know? Dr. Asghar never releases anyone unless they’ve been briefed.” “Oh, I, uh, sorta escaped,” I stuttered. Akash stared at me. “You got away from them?” I nodded, and to my surprise, Akash laughed, clapping his hands together. “I knew someone would do it one day! Dr. Asghar must be pissed!”
(Mi)Stake - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)
I grunted as a sudden force ran into me, knocking me to the ground. I yelped and scrambled out from underneath the person and clambered to my feet, trembling from the unexpected touch. “Am I that repulsive to you?” a teasing voice said. I turned to look at the person who ran into me: a teenage boy a year or so older than me. It took me a second to collect myself. “No,” I said as he stood. “It just… freaked me out.” The boy was about average height for his age and had a slim, but fit, frame. He had thick dark hair framing his face and big, dark eyes framed by wire-thin glasses. His hair was cut relatively short, but his bangs were somewhat long—parted on the right. He laughed. “Freaked me out, too.” He crossed his arms. “So… are you one of Gwen’s friends?” “You know Gwen?” I asked, standing in surprise. “What is she doing here?” “Sorta, I met her an hour… and maybe a half ago, I dunno what time it is—-passed out due to,” he gestured to the charred walls, “the explosion.” “Wait, are you Robert Stafford?” “No, actually, I’m Stobert Rafford—common mistake.” I blinked. The boy kept eye contact with a straight face. His mouth twitched. The delay stopped as I cachinnated—that was a fun word. The boy joined in. “Sorry, that was stupid.” “No, no, it wasn't,” I said as I tried to compose myself. “Yeah, it was, I’m laughing at my own joke.” “Okay, fine, it was stupid, but that’s why it was funny.” He smiled, dark eyes shining. “Finally, someone gets it!”
Fix - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)
SORARA’s voice announced the Recruits entering the door, and I instinctively fixed my cap to make sure it was on correctly. “—way too bright,” Lexi was saying as she turned the corner into the living room. “You’ll melt your retinas.” “I need to be blinded by the screen,” Gwen was saying. “If I’m not, it’s too dark.” “I’m starting to see why you needed glasses.” Gwen laughed, and her eyes landed on mine, now slightly obscured by new rectangular black glasses. I instinctively raised my hand to rub it through my hair but it ended up hitting the hat instead, pushing it slightly back. I tried to fix it again. Of course, Gwen’s new fashion statement looks cute while I look like the biggest dork on the planet. She smiled at me. I raised my hand in greeting. “Robbie!” Lexi said, snapping me back. “Let me see your phone!” “Huh? Okay.” Robbie shifted to reach into his pocket to pull out his phone. He handed it to her but she shook her head. “Just turn it on and show me the screen.” Robbie did as told, causing Lexi to laugh triumphantly. “Ha! That’s not that bright, and he wears glasses.” Gwen shrugged.
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wongyuuu · 3 months
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back room | csc
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pairing: seungcheol x f!reader genre: smut word count: 2.3k summary: while seungcheol is on a meeting you decide that it's a great moment to send him nudes. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, stimulation, swearing, petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this) a/n: this is part of 1k event, it was requested @xcynthiaaa. i hope you like it. prompts: "Feeling a bit possessive, aren't we?" + “Can you stop sending me nudes, I’m at work.” lower case was intentional, not proofread
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you anxiously watched the meeting room, you glanced at your phone every now and then to make sure that seungcheol had gotten your text. he was doing a good job of keeping a straight face, his eyes not even once going to his phone or to you, though you were sure that he knew that the new influx of texts was from you. 
without meaning to, your eyes went from him to the woman sitting right in front of him. since the beginning of the meeting she never stopped looking at seungcheol and if the nasty gossip that floated to your ears was any true, she had been hitting on him a long time before you showed up.
maybe you were feeling a little insecure about yourself, because the woman was stunning, with the kind of face and body one could easily find in a magazine, or maybe you just hated the fact that there was a woman throwing herself at your boyfriend. to his credit, seungcheol never looked at her, unless she directly called his name, and when she touched his leg with her pointy shoes he scooted his chair back.
you bit your lip, wanting to come up with an excuse to go into the meeting room and maybe end it. but you didn't have a good one and although if you did go in, no one would ever bat an eye, it just wasn't right. and, more than anything else, it could backfire and instead of being amused by your sudden jealousy, seungcheol would get angry because you could have potentially ruined an important moment for him. 
so you kept your butt on your chair, doing your very best to keep your focus on the work that needed to be done. it was pointless and you knew that. every couple of seconds your eyes moved to the meeting room. 
"who was the idiot that decided that a meeting room should have glass walls?" you asked no one in particular. 
"pretty sure it was the ceo" wonwoo said from the desk in front of you. 
it was a surprise that he even heard you in the first place. wonwoo was great at ignoring the people around him, you more than anyone else, and he usually had his earbuds in, blasting music loud enough that people near him could hear it too. you liked to pretend that he never answered because his hearing was getting progressively worse because of all the loud music. 
"almost certain your boyfriend agreed, saying it was a great idea," he said, not looking at you. 
you choked on your own saliva, eyes wide as you reached for the water bottle on your right. no one was supposed to know about your relationship with seungcheol, as it was against company rules. both of you thought that you had done a good job in hiding it, a fantastic one actually. 
you never arrived together, never left together, barely talked of things that weren't specific about work, and if there was a company dinner you never sat close to each other, always choosing opposite sides, but careful enough not to be facing each other. 
you were always careful, to the point most people thought you didn't like each other. 
"he's not..."
"you don't have to lie" he waved a hand in your direction, "i'm the only one who knows. and i only know because i saw you together a couple of weeks ago at a restaurant" 
you opened your mouth to say something when your phone suddenly lit up with an incoming text. it was pathetic how quickly you grabbed your phone, to the point wonwoo laughed at you. 
cheol feeling a bit possessive, aren't we?
you bit your lip trying to hide your smile but it was almost impossible. when you looked at the meeting room, seungcheol's eyes were focused on you. 
to the average person, he looked displeased, angry even. but you knew that the glint in his eyes was for a different reason.
you moved your attention back to your phone.
you just wanted to remind you that you have a girlfriend
you went through your gallery again, clicking on the picture you took a few days before and pressing send. seungcheol had to be away for a few days because of work and because you weren't part of his team, there was no reason for you to tag along. you had been feeling hornier than usual, needy even. so you decided that if you were missing your boyfriend to the point where your fingers could do nothing but make you even needier, he too could miss you a little bit. 
so you took pictures of yourself sprawled in his bed, wearing the red lingerie you knew he liked the most, and sent it to him. it took him a couple of hours to see it and it was so long that you started to think that maybe it had been a bad idea and that though he was someone who enjoyed foreplay there were things that he wasn't willing to do. 
to your surprise and delight, he was more into it than you expected. 
after that, if you were feeling pretty enough, you'd take pictures and randomly send them to him. 
cheol you know i love it but, can you stop sending me nudes? i'm at work  we're at work
you okay ;)
you send him a different picture, this time one he had taken the night before, of your reflection in the mirror while you rode him. 
you smiled at your phone before setting it down, happy with yourself. seungcheol looked almost pained as he turned his attention back to the meeting, nodding his head every now and then, but his eyes continued to move back to his phone. 
he couldn't really believe what you had done, though you weren't the shiest woman he had ever met, for you there had always been certain boundaries you refused to cross. he couldn't help but wonder if you had gotten jealous enough to do that, send him pictures while he was in a room filled with people. had the client had gone a little further you would have barged into the room ready for a fight? 
his hard on was a little uncomfortable, and yes he crossed his legs in order to hide it, but it was extremely hard to keep the smile away from his face.
"i'm sure we can make the adjustments for next week, can't we seungcheol?" his boss suddenly said.
seungcheol cleared his throat and adjusted himself on the chair. 
"yes, i can finish it by friday next week
"great!" the woman said in her high pitched tone. 
seungcheol took a discreet deep breath to keep himself from rolling his eyes. 
he didn't know how you even thought that he could be interested in her, or if anything at all even went through your brain. the client was objectively pretty but everything else about her didn't do much for him. and she crossed one too many lines during the meeting. seungcheol made it a point to keep quiet for the day but there was no way he would stand another meeting with the woman. he would still work on the project but the ceo could handle her by himself, something told him he would be happy to.
"i was thinking that maybe we could all go for lunch," she started.
seungcheol stood up, shaking his head. he pulled the folder from the desk and held it in front of himself. the sight was ridiculous and he could picture you laughing in his head.
"i have a lot of work to catch up on, i'll have to pass on it"
the polite thing to do would be to shake her hand but seungcheol wanted to get away as fast as possible so once the ceo nodded at him, he turned on his heels and left the meeting room. 
he went straight to your desk. you smiled while looking down and at the mere sight of you, his cock twitched like he was a fucking teenager that had never seen a woman before. 
"yn, i need you at the archive room. now"
at the sound of his voice, you looked up. your smile melted away and you wore the usual serious face whenever seungcheol was around. 
he hated it, the fact that you had to hide your relationship. he wanted everyone to know that you were his, and then maybe all the stupid men in the office would stop trying to ask you out. 
"why?" you asked, your tone bored. 
"because you were the last one to go through the files and i need help" he matched your bored tone. 
wonwoo laughed, making seungcheol turn to him. he raised his eyebrows, a silent question thrown at the man sitting in front of you. wonwwo just shook his head, his smile suddenly gone. he turned to you, eyebrows still raised. 
you sighed and followed him. your heels clicking on the floor while you followed him three steps behind. 
was the archive room always that far away?
"what do you need?" you asked, tone still bored, when the room came into view. 
seungcheol opened the door for you and followed you inside, locking the door behind him. 
when you turned to look at him you smiled at him, your arms crossed over your chest. he threw the folder he used to cover himself to the side and put his hands on his waist. you watched in complete amazement and laughed when you noticed the bulge in his pants. 
"awn, did you like the pictures that much?" your voice was taunting. 
seungcheol took three steps closer to you and pulled your hand, putting it over his cock. just that was almost enough to get a moan out of him. 
the second he saw the picture of you over him, his dick deep inside your pussy, it was all he could think about. having you again, as fast as possible was his only concern. 
"there are cameras in here," you said, your eyes wide while you looked around, lightly pulling your hand away from his grasp. 
"there isn't"  
at his words, you opened the zipper of his pants just enough to push your hands into his boxers. you wrapped your hand around his cock and ran your thumbs over his tip, pumping him a couple of times. you smiled when a quick shudder ran over him. 
seungcheol grabbed your face and pulled you to him, his lips crashing over yours. he pushed his tongue through your lips, taking control. his hands moved down to your neck, squeezing it softly. 
"my little menace," he said "what did you think was going to happen, hm?"
he pulled your skirt up until it was pooled around your waist and pushed you until your back was pressed against the wall.
"you wanted me to walk out of that room and fuck you, over your desk?"
you moaned at the thought, though in your ideal world, none of your coworkers would be around to witness it. seungcheol turned you around and forced your legs apart with his feet while holding one of your arms behind your back. you used your free hand to steady yourself on the wall. 
"if you don't ask, i'm not going to fuck you, baby" 
it was something seungcheol often relished on, the fact that he could make you beg. you were so quiet, so shy, but he always made you say it, implore for it. 
"you're the one with a hard on, sweetheart" you teased. if he thought that you were going to beg this time too, he was wrong "i can go back to work as if nothing happened"
you really couldn't. if you did it was going to be the worst work day for you because the only thing you could possibly think about was the fact that your boyfriend had a hard on because of you and you said no when he wanted to fuck you. 
seungcheol shoved your panties aside and pushed himself into you. he groaned as your walls sucked him in. you moaned at the feeling of being full, at being stretched out to fit him. he moved relentlessly, his pace almost cruel as he searched for his release. 
"jesus, cheol..." a loud moan left your lips as you were suddenly pressed on the wall. 
"you have to be quiet, baby" you could feel his smirk on your neck "everyone will hear you"
seungcheol snaked his arm around your waist, and his fingers worked your clit with the same drive as his hips moved. he was a madman and you loved every single piece of him. you covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes shut close, in a pathetic attempt to be quiet. even if your moans couldn't be heard, there was no way people wouldn't hear the sound of his hips on your yours. 
"you’re going to be filled with cum" he whispered, his free hand grabbing your neck, tilting your head back "running down your thighs the entire day"
seungcheol pinched your clit and it was enough to throw you over the edge. this time you were able to swallow your moan. you pressed your hands on the wall, trying to steady yourself, as your legs shook. seungcheol was quick to follow, your walls clenching around him like a vice as he pounded into you again and again. 
he used your shoulder to quiet his own moan and heavy breath.
"just so you know, this wasn't my intention," you said once you were able to breathe again.
seungcheol laughed and took a step back as he adjusted his shirt and pants.
"no?"
you rolled your eyes and leaned on the wall.
"maybe later, at your place" you gave in
he laughed and pulled your skirt down while you buttoned his shirt. 
"well, it's only noon"
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phantom-dc · 1 year
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A deal with the Ghost King
Part2 AO3
Danny was getting impatient.
He had been annoyed at being summoned, then exited when he found himself in the Justice League Watchtower. He was in space! But then the guy in the raincoat begun offering a piece of his soul in exchange for destroying a meteorite, and he had become annoyed instead. He doesn't want a soul! Doesn't this guy get he'd be Danny's slave for eternity? So taking a page off Clockwork's book, he said something cryptic and ominous so no one else tried to bribe him with souls. They had turned white and raincoat guy asked if they could be excused for a moment before pulling the other heroes into a different room. Wich, first off: Rude. Second: Danny couldn't leave the summonning circle unless he made a deal or if he was send back. At first he had been curious what they would offer him now, settling into a more humanoid form instead of the eldritch nightmare being summoned always forced him into. That had been a while ago though, and now he was getting impatient. They better come back soon so he can go deal with the problem. He'll do it for a Pop-tart at this point, as long as he can go break that overgrown space-rock!
Jason was pissed. Batman had ordered everyone to come to the Watchtower immediatly. Jason wasn't even allowed to wear his helmet (he scared the younger Leaguers), having to settle for a domino mask instead. Good thing he had 2, because Nightwing had even brought Alfred! Jason wanted anwsers, why did B rush them here? He hadn't even greeted or explained anything to them, just had Plastic-man bring them to a room to wait. But Jason was done waiting, so he stormed to the main briefing room. He expected B and his Justice club. Instead he found a glowing, floating hero. The floor glowed a bit beneath him, his skin tinted green and his hair floated as if underwater, a crown surrounded by its own northen light. He was beautifull. Anger forgotten, he made his way over, deciding to make some small talk. 'Hello there! Are you a new hero? I've never seen you before?'
Danny was startled. He'd been focussing on the door the heroes left through, trying to will them back. He hadn't even noticed the Liminal behind him until he spoke! He turned around, and was again caught of guard. Even with the Domino covering his eyes,he could tell this guy was really handsome! A mountain of chiseled muscles and a white streak of hair that gave him something mysterious. Oh crap, he was staring. What did he say again? 'Hello! I'm Phantom. It's nice to meet you!' The Liminal introduced himself as J. 'Anyone ever tell you you're drop-dead gorgeous?' Danny laughed. Hot and death puns? Yep, he's going for it. The Leaguers aren't back yet anyway.
Jason was kicking himself. Really? That's the best he could come up with? Thank god Phantom had seemed to like it. 'Well, it certainly wouldn't get a rise out of me if they did!' he said. 'So what are you doing here? I didn't see you at the meeting?' Jason shrugged. 'No idea actually. B called for all hands on deck, so here I am. What are you here for?' Phantom sighed. 'They got me here to deal with some stupid rock, but then ditched me here for an impromptu meeting. I just want to go take care of it, but I can't just leave.' Phantom looked annoyed. Jason asked if Phantom wanted a tour of the Watchtower, surely Flash could get him when they needed him? Phantom looked dejected. He couldn't leave without being dismissed. Jason decided to make a move. 'Ok, how about this: you deal with that rock, and afterwards, we can meet up in Gotham and I'll give you a tour there! Deal?' Phantom looked up, an inhumanly while smile on his face.
'Deal!'
After that Phantom had left, saying the boyscouts had their chance. 'I look forward to our date!' He said and then dissapeared. Jason was exited! He went back to the others, who hadn't noticed he'd left. No matter, he had a date to plan!
Contantine was freaking out. The meteorite had proven too much for the Justice League. Most of their heavy hitters had been off-planet or out off commision. The damn thing was even made of kryptonite! He had no choice but to summon the only being that he knew of that could deal with it and could be bribed. He had offered the mighty Ghost King a piece of his soul, but been rejected! Batman had offered his own soul instead, but again this offer wasn't enough. The Ghost King explained there were billions of mortals about to become his subjects. Why trade that for 1 measily soul? He needed a better offer if they wanted his help. Panicked, Constantine had pulled the other League members into a different room, not wanting them to make a deal by accident. They were all making desperate suggestions. What could be worth more than every soul on Earth? They had made a list of magical and historical artifacts from every members background. It was a long shot, but the meteorite was getting too close. As they went back to the Ghost King they were praying it would be enough.
The King was gone. Suddenly in the distance the meteorite exploded. Someone had made a deal with the Ghost King, and no one knew who. What had they offered?
What could possible be worth more to the High King of the Infinite Realms than every living soul on Earth?
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virgamsysxvolumes · 4 months
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This was inspired by @purple-goo-writes idea Here and is a little drabble mostly for my own idea Here
“Danny it isn’t your responsibility to fix the world you know,” Jazz spoke softly to her brother. There were times she wished he would be a little more selfish, yet she also could not help but be proud of the person he was growing into. “This isn’t Amity and there are heroes here already.”
“I can’t-They’re screaming Jazz! We can’t just leave them like that!” Danny protested, practically vibrating as he looked out the dorm window.
Jazz sighed deeply but smiled and walked over to her bed to pull a large silver suitcase from beneath it. She opened it up quickly to reveal two robotic full face masks that looked like a cross between a rabbit mask and a cyberpunk gas mask. One mask was in a matt black color with glowing teal lines breaking up the surface, the second mask was also black but with luminous white lines breaking up the mask in the same futuristic pattern.
“We don’t have much time then. Phantom can’t be seen outside of Amity, but these people need help evacuating.” Jazz said.
“Woah, did you make these?” Danny asked. “I thought you hated playing with ectotech?”
“Just because I’m not as fond of engineering as you or our parents doesn’t mean I’m incapable. It’s a simple adaptation of the Fenton Peeler, I call them Lucky Rush.” Jazz explained.
“Why rabbits?” Danny couldn’t help but ask.
“Because rabbits are lucky and quick to escape. Gotham isn’t like Amity, so I hope we’ll be a little more lucky here and manage to escape…” I hope you’ll always escape…
An explosion going off in the building somewhere caused everything to shake and for their conversation to be interrupted.  Jazz hissed in surprise, grabbing Danny protectively by instinct as he reached out to grab her and make them both intangible. The moment passed and both were in a rush, Danny grabbed the black mask and Jazz grabbed the teal mask. Placing the masks on their faces caused the tech to latch onto them and create full bodysuits to cover them, Jazz had far more armor than Danny’s as she needed the heavy protection but Danny’s was a little sleeker and clearly designed to allow more precise and dexterous movement.
There were no words between them as Danny took her hand and turned them both invisible before going intangible and jumping them both down to the pavement below. Gravity meant nothing to Danny and by extension Jazz despite them being on the third floor, they floated down together landing safely. Danny dropped their invisibility with a pulse of ectoplasm that also called to all the nearby blob ghosts. They were rather abundant in Gotham as there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm but most of the time not enough to form full ghosts, or at least not the types of ghosts he was used to.
The blob ghosts flocked to him like clumsy bumble bees floating around and bouncing off of him and Jazz. They seemed interested in their changed appearances, a few shifting their round blobby bodies into round fluffy rabbits instead. Jazz was curious about the change but brushed it off as there was more important things to worry about.
“Hey guys, we need help. Can you lead us to people in trouble? The most injured or in need of rescue first please.” Danny’s voice was distorted by the mask, causing a robotic sort of echo effect.
The blobs scattered like birds startled and moved quickly to complete their task. Jazz and Danny split up so that Jazz could dig people from the rubble and Danny could find and heal people that needed it. They moved swiftly and efficiently despite this being a new sort of thing for them. Usually in Amity civilians would have long been evacuated. They worked so hard on assisting civilians that neither of them realized when the villain of the day managed to slip away from the vigilantes and come across Danny, which was surprising in and of itself because as it turned out; it was the Joker that had been causing problems and had bombed the university dorms for a laugh.
“Well, well! Lookie here! A new mask? On Batman’s turf? What brave souls!” Joker cackled, his nose was already bleeding from what looked like a previous hit and his clothes were rumpled.
The civilian that Danny had been healing whimpered in fear pressing into Danny’s side unconsciously. Danny didn’t bother to say anything and looked away from the Joker dismissively, his glowing green hands finishing mending the break in the young lady’s leg. Joker did not like that.
“You little brat, do you think you can just ignore me?!” Joker screeched, offended and already somewhat exhausted from escaping before.
“My big sister doesn’t want me to play with you.” Danny spoke up at last, turning his head to look at the Joker, the green lenses over his eyes glowing a bright toxic green.
“Hah!” The Joker was about to speak again but had to clutch at his head as an echoing screech of rage thundered through his mind, it was not something he heard audibly but it shook his bones and organs with the force of it.
“Here she comes…” Danny couldn’t help but taunt, the girl in his arms looked petrified and confused.
There was no time for any of them to react as between one second and the next the Joker was tackled to the ground by an armored person standing taller than most people the girl had ever seen. Clearly the two were matching but Big Sister was clearly built for combat, her fists clad in heavy gauntlets with teal glowing lines and black parts. The Big Sister showed no mercy as she shattered the clown's bones under a terrible rage. The Little Brother on the other hand was gentle as he guided the girl he healed back onto her feet and urged her to run away.
The blobs had returned lagging a little after his sister and swarmed around Danny, though the girl didn’t seem to see them. He would need to reward them with some of his own ectoplasm later, they really liked his for some reason. His sister huffed and dropped the clown’s broken body before he could actually die and approached Danny as the girl finally ran away too nervous to stick around for the Big Sister's approach.
“Let’s go Little Brother. That was the last of them and the bats are on the way.” Jazz’s voice was also warped and echoing.
“Okay.” Danny reached out and took Jazz’s hand, opening a portal for them. The portal looked almost exactly like his transformation ring, a glowing white circle that remained in the mortal plane rather than cutting through the Infinite. The two hopped into the portal together, collapsing it behind them.
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azrielwingspan · 19 days
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SOON (THEO NOTT X READER)
Summary : Theodore Nott was just another Slytherin asshole to most of Hogwarts. But to you, he was something much much more.
Themes : Mild kissing and swearing.
A/N : This is my first Theo fic AHHH. Just thought I would give it a shot. Let me know how it is!
P.S.- This is strictly a one shot. There will be no part 2.
"He is quite charming isn't he?" Ginny commented sneaking a glance at Theodore Nott. Seated at the Slytherin table between his usual rowdy gang of friends, he smirked at something Lorenzo had said.
"I think the word you're looking for is enigmatic, Gin. For all we know, he could be Voldemort in disguise." you stated flatly, stabbing a piece of potato on your plate. Earning a smack on the arm for using You-know-who's name so boldly, you ignored Ginny's attempts at convincing you to attend the party being thrown tonight.
"Help me understand why you're so bloody against the idea?! Is it because you have to bring a date?" she raised her eyebrows in question.
"That may be a part of the reason." you refused to meet her owl like stare, instead choosing to focus on the copy of the Daily Prophet in front of you.
"Why would that be an issue ? I can name five people off the top of my head who would say yes instantly." she prodded further, thankfully choosing to redirect her gaze towards the mail she'd received. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, you snuck a glance at Theodore again. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled upto his elbow and you greedily took in the sight of his veiny forearms.
"What are you looking at?" Ginny broke you out of the reverie, your eyes immediately flitting towards the shawl Pansy was wearing.
"Pansy's new shawl. I can't recall which store I've seen it in but it looks very familiar." The lie rolled out smoothly, misleading Ginny. The pang of guilt ,that never lessened in impact, hit you yet again.
"Oh. Yeah, it does look quite familiar now that you mention it." She went off on a tangent about clothes and you let out a relieved sigh.
Ginny couldn't know. Not for now atleast.
The morning went on, your focus elsewhere during most of the classes. Ginny hadn't brought up the party again but you knew it was unavoidable. You were definitely acting quite strange. Not being the one to turn down an invite, your sudden refusal to attend this massive party did come as a surprise to your friends.
You had your reasons. Utterly selfish reasons.
However as the evening rolled by, Ginny had cornered you into agreeing. On bringing up the issue of the date, she'd simply shrugged and said "I took care of it."
That did not sound very reassuring.
It was worse than you had expected.
"CORMAC MC FUCKIN LAGGEN ?!?" you hissed at Ginny , your back to the boy in question.
Ginny looked away sheepishly and said "He told Hermione who told me that he had a thing for you. So I thought you guys could talk? I mean you don't have to really. Just drop him off in a corner."
"Drop him---" pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you whipped around to face Laggen and gave him a saccharine smile.
"Nice to meet you Laggen but I'm not interested."
He looked astounded, trying to wrap his head around the rejection. After a few seconds, he managed to sputter out "We haven't talked yet. How can you--"
"Yes. Yes I can. You have my permission to tell everyone I'm your date but please don't approach me again. Bye." you sauntered off into the party, Ginny keeping up behind you.
"Where's Harry anyways?" you asked, straining your neck to see past the crowd.
"Running late. Neville set his pants on fire so Ron and Harry are helping him out."
Shaking your head in amusement, you let your eyes run around the room searching for him.
There.
Theo sat on the couch near the fireplace, one arm thrown around the back , a glass of amber liquid in the other. The smoke from Mattheo's cigarette made his figure hazy.
"I'm gonna go grab a drink." Ginny said her voice floating by. You nodded distractedly , your attention held captive by Theo.
As if sending your presence behind him , he turned his head around and met your eyes. Slight confusion marred his face making his eyebrows furrow. He hadn’t expected you to be here.
Signalling to you with a quick nod of his head, he excused himself from his group of friends and made his way to his dorms. You stayed down for a couple more minutes , getting yourself a drink to throw off suspicion.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d come tonight. Ginny change your mind?” Pansy popped out of the blue , startling you.
“Uh.. Pansy, hey. Yeah you know how Gin is.” Pansy was a bit of a talker. Aware that this conversation could go on forever , you tried to come up with an excuse. “Hey listen, I’ve got to use the bathroom real quick. I’ll find you again alright?”
Not waiting for a response , you made your way in the direction of the bathrooms and took a sharp turn in the opposite direction once you made sure Pansy had redirected her attention. Sneaking up the stairway to the boys dorm, you took a moment for yourself outside Theo’s dorm room, straightening out your clothes.
“Took you long enough.” His voice drawled as you entered his room, the familiar surroundings providing a sense of comfort.
“Pansy almost started a conversation.” You said laughing lightly at his wide eyed expression.
“Didn’t take you long then.” He corrected his previous statement , prowling towards you.
“No. I guess it didn’t.”
Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into a searing kiss that had you holding onto his shirt for balance. The words 'I missed you' played at the tip of your tongue struggling to be let out.
He nipped at your lower lip , a breathy sigh leaving you as you tangled your hands in his hair.
"Cormac Mc fuckin Laggen? Seriously?" Theo muttered , lowering his head to place soft kisses across your jaw. Leaning your head back to give him more access, you let out a soft laugh. "That's exactly what I said. Ginny is the real culprit."
A strangled moan left your lips as he sucked at your neck, immediately soothing it with a sloppy kiss. "T-Theo..you idiot. That's gonna leave a mark." He just hummed in response seemingly lost in the pleasure. Tugging his head back, you made him meet your gaze head on.
"If we stay up here for any longer, they'll suspect." A shiver passed through you as his hands trailed lower and cupped you arse, pulling your hips to his. "Let them." he said dropping his head to capture your lips once more.
"THEO, YOU IN THERE ??" Blaise Zabini's voice boomed through the door making you jump. A string of Italian curses left Theo's mouth as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah give me a minute!"
Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned down to your face placing you at eye level. "It'll all be over soon alright? We won't have to hide anymore. We can be free." The promise in his eyes lit a spark of hope within you, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.
"Soon." you whispered , your eyes fluttering shut as you placed a kiss on his Dark Mark.
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xxblairexxss · 7 months
Text
Swimming lesson
Pairing : dad!Charles Leclerc x mom!reader
Theme : Fluff
Words count : 1.7k
Requested!
It was your daughter’s first time in the water and she needed Charles’ help to overcome her fear.
Short one that is full of fluff since my next one is gonna an angst
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"Blue!" She squealed and pointed her little finger at the blue whale on her swimsuit while you tied up her hair into braids. When she went to her dad, you had no idea what Charles did, but she came back with a very funny-looking hairstyle that made your little one look as if she just got into a fight. Despite that, she was very satisfied because Charles kept on saying she looked cute with it.
"It’s a blue whale! Can you turn around?” She turned, facing you, and you smiled when you saw her little dimple, the same one as her dad, right on her cheeks. "You are all done! Go and get daddy!"
"Dada!" She skipped in joy and ran to get your husband, who had gone into the pool first to ‘check the water’, he said.
"Mommy! Swim?" She ran back to pull on your hand as you approached the swimming pool right outside of the hotel room. You caught Charles’ gaze, smirking as he saw you in the one-piece swimsuit, as if he had never seen you before.
"Stop staring at me. I have a husband.” You commented and dipped your legs in the water as your little girl followed your act. Charles cackled as he moved and got in between while being in the pool.
"Mommy’s not giving me a chance at all, right, princess?" He felt the little hand on his cheeks as she giggled, with no urge to understand what it was all about. "Right! It’s your first day of swim class. Stand up!" 
She stopped tittering right away as Charles switched his mood; her little hands stopped clapping as she hugged your arm, eyes looking away from her dad’s.
"Daddy’s joking around, sweetheart. It’s alright." You sent an angry stare towards the guy as he chuckled before taking the little hands from grasping your arm.
"I’m kidding, love! Come here." He extended his arms as she cautiously jumped into the water, straight into his embrace. Charles had put on her pink, flamingo-printed arm and chest life vest beforehand to help her float in case she got in the water without anyone’s supervision.
She looked back at you and smiled, only when you grinned at her. She was scared; you knew it, but Charles had been wanting to send her to swimming class, but she needed to get used to the water first.
"Can Daddy let you go?” He kissed the flushed, chubby cheek before his grasp went a little loose around the little one, which caused her to freak out.
"N—no. Dada, no! No!" Her bottom lips were pushed forward while she tried to grab Charles when she felt like floating away.
"Okay, okay! You are okay, princess. See?" He tried to let go of her once again but gave in as she started to weep, his hands flapping to get back in his arms. "It’s okay! It’s okay, I got you."
"I want mommy..." She turned towards you, her little arm still wrapped tightly around his neck, as she started to sob even more.
"Aw, what’s wrong, love?" You picked her up when Charles brought her back to you as she clambered to sit on your laps. Her head moved a little when you wiped away her tears.
"Here comes a shark!” Charles came in front of you with his hands clapped together on his head which acted like a fin, causing your little girl to cry even more.
"Really, honey?" You laughed along with Charles and cradled your little girl’s head as she weeped in your arms. "It’s okay, sweetheart. Look! It’s just daddy."
"It’s just me, baby. Look. Daddy is the shark. There’s no actual shark in here!” He got closer and tugged on the chubby hands to get her attention. "Come here, sweetheart. I’m not going to let you go this time. Promise.” He clapped on his hands, inviting her to get in the water again, but she shook her head furiously and tried to cling on to you even more.
"I don’t want...” She mumbled against your chest.
"But Daddy’s waiting for you? I thought you wanted to swim with Daddy. It’s okay." You cupped on the cheeks and kissed on her head as she started bitting on her nails, still slightly agitated. Her eyes went on her dad, who was waiting for her to calm down.
"Are you scared?” Charles asked, though he knew what the answer was. He rested his chin on her fluffy little legs as she quivered in her arms.
"This much.." She pulled her hand away and pinched her chubby fingers to show how scared she was as Charles cackled and made her giggle in tears by acting like he was trying to eat the cute hands.
"But dada is here with you. See? Or do you want mommy to get in the water too?” Charles closed his eyes as you moved your hand closer to his face to brush his hair away. "Honey, do you want to get in?” Your hand that was stroking his hair was pulled into his as he moved a little further away to give you some space.
"No! No!" Seeing the way you scooted closer to the edge, the little one on your lap started becoming more agitated as she tried to get away. She even stepped on your lap a little rough just to get away, which made you halt and wince a little. "Mommy no!"
Charles wasn’t expecting her to go frantic. She didn’t even touch the water yet; it didn’t even reach your full knee when she went all anxious. She even accidentally pulled on your hair just to try and get away. Your neck was a little red from his daughter's belligerent attempt to get away. "Okay, baby—" He made a little jump to push himself out of the pool, seeing he wouldn’t be able to take the matter into hand if he chose to stay in the water and sat by your side as he picked her up, stopping her from tossing and turning in your arms. "Hey, princess. It’s okay, love. I got you. It’s okay." He mumbled the words over and over as she hugged him, one hand on his daughter’s back, stroking on it to sooth down her cries while his other hand was on yours. "No more swimming? Should we stop? Do you want to stop?” He asked once she stopped crying, guessing she didn’t want to go back into the water, but she shook her head, telling the dad that she still wanted to, though her expression was telling otherwise.
“But dada don’t let go.." She replied, hiccuping between her words.
"Okay, dada’s not letting go this time. Pinky promise?" Charles and you chuckled, seeing the way she struggled to bring out her little finger to lock with her dad’s. "There you go! Good girl." He brushed his lips on the forehead hidden under the bangs after the successful pinky promise before picking her up to let her stand by the side. "Daddy will go in first, alright?"
She gave a slight nod, her hand rubbing on her red, rudolph-like nose, which was put to an end as you softly held the little hand.
"Okay, sweetheart. Ready? We’ll take it slow, okay?” Charles extended his arms, waiting for his little one to brace herself. Instead of jumping her way in like before, she sat back down and plopped into the water, with your hand hovering on her back in case she freaked out again. "Good job, baby! You are such a brave girl. Can you swim to Daddy?" Charles was just a hand away from her, but he stopped drawing her straight to his arms after seeing her try to kick her feet with a smile this time.
"Dada, I can't.." The dimples on the little girl’s face faded away when she realised she was going nowhere; she didn’t even budge from where she was a second ago.
"I’m right here, princess. Daddy’s right here. You can come to me.” He said, taking a step closer as she kicked her feet even more and grabbed on Charles’ hand. "You did it, baby! Good job! See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You smiled, silently watching those two in their own world as your legs flapped in the water. He always knew how to calm her down; it was as if he was born to be a dad that you often joked around by saying he used to have a secret kid with someone else because he just knew how to respond and act whenever she threw a tantrum or losing control of her emotions.
"Honey, are you okay?” Charles’ hand on your kneecap pulled you away from your daydream.
"Yeah? Yeah, I’m fine! Why are you asking that?” You looked to the side, checking on your daughter, who was busy playing with her ducklings by the side, her back leaning against you as her little chubby feet kicked the water at times.
"Sorry for freaking our little girl out. I didn't expect she would act like that.” He rested his arms on your lap while you played with his hair. The hair that looked like a shade of light brown when it got under the rays of sunlight, just like the hair of your little girl by your side.
"It’s alright, honey. She didn’t mean it.” You laughed, seeing his worried expression. He always got too worried about everything.
"Let me see?” You bended down, allowing Charles to see the side of your neck, thinking he was being extra apprehensive when he had a different intention.
"Charles!" You yelled out when the next thing you felt was his arm on your waist, pulling you straight to the water and completely drenched every strand of your hair. Right after you took a breath of relief, he earned a slap right on his bare chest. "You are so mean!"
Charles and you looked towards the little one as she giggled, both hands filled with her small ducks. "Daddy mean!"
"Right, baby?! I thought Dada actually cared about me.” You rolled your eyes, feet moved further from trying to get away from him, but he moved his arms on your waist, legs got in between yours.
"I’m sorry, baby! Are you sulking? He laughed, lips went to trail kisses on your jaw with your face tilted away. "I’m sorry, baby. Can’t leave you to be the only one dry amongst us." He smiled, seeing the way the ends of your lips tilted up despite the little frown you had. "Am I forgiven?"
"A little." You laughed and pulled away when he caught your lips with his.
“Take your shower with me. I’ll help you wash your hair—“ Charles looked to the side as he heard the sweet, adorable voice cried out.
"Ducky!" Your little girl pouted, leaning a little to catch her duck toy that started floating away while you went in front of her, afraid she would accidentally fall in the water despite the safety vest.
"Dada got it!” Charles grabbed it from floating further to the centre of the pool, and before he could make his way back to his wife, he saw the rest of the ducklings started floating away as well, making your little one whimpered.
"No, my ducky!" She stomped her feet, hands went into a clench fist, looking adorably distressed that she couldn’t catch any of it, but ended up laughing with you after seeing the way her dad struggled to catch all of them at once.
"Daddy looks funny, right?” You whispered.
"Yes! Dada cute!" She covered her mouth and giggled, her small palm wasn’t big enough to cover her dimples.
“Honey, I could use some help?” Charles looked at his wife and remarked.
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azrielsdove · 21 days
Text
Best Friend’s Brother: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Kinda Mean Az?
***
“Are you ever going to tell him?” Cassian teased you, peering over his glass as he drank. You rolled your eyes, throwing back the rest of your own drink.
“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied, adding more liquor to your cup. Cassian laughed, shaking his head at you.
“You’re blind if you don’t notice the way he looks at you, anyway.” You stilled at his words, eyes glaring daggers into him.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You wouldn’t allow yourself the naivety to imagine Azriel felt the same way you did. You had only become a part of the Inner Circle a few years ago, after you accidentally took Rhys down thinking he was a danger. He had been so impressed with you that he immediately offered you a security position and set you up to train under his General and Spymaster. Cassian and you were fast friends, but Azriel left you confused. He rarely spoke to you and passed most of the training off to Cass. Everything he did screamed that he couldn’t care less about you.
Unfortunately, you were enthralled by him.
The few times he did train you were treasured memories, the feel of his hands on your waist as he corrected your position, the way his eyes looked over your body to ensure proper hold. At one of your recent sessions he had tackled you to the ground, hips pinning yours to the sand underneath you. You had allowed him to think your lack of speech was due to shock that he had taken you down so easily, and not because you were going delirious with desire. You had taken a rather long bath after that morning.
“Oh sure, yea, why would I know the male i’ve spent 500 years with? You’re right, you must know him better than I. I apologize, O Great One, for daring to assume.” Cassian mock bowed to you, smirking at your glare. “I know a way to prove it to you.” You hated how he piqued your interest.
“Pray tell, dear friend,” you said, carefully filling your rapidly emptying glass again. You enjoyed the way the drink made your mind fuzzy, the endless thoughts of why Azriel could barely stand you numbed. Cassian leaned closer towards you, a wicked smile on his face.
“Come to training extra early tomorrow. Wear your tightest leathers, the ones from when you first got here.” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Those stick to my body like a second skin. I’ll look like a pleasure hall whore wearing them.” You didn’t appreciate the way Cassian looked at you, eyes shining proudly.
“That’s what I intend. I’d never lead you astray, would I?” He raised his hand in surrender immediately after he spoke, shaking his head. “Not about anything like this, I promise.” You knew it was a bad idea to agree to whatever plan he was making, but you found yourself nodding and hoping you weren’t going to regret this in the morning.
***
A low whistle met you as you walked into the training ring early the next morning. “Damn, you look even better than I imagined. If this weren’t to get the attention of my brother i’d try to convince you down to my room.” Cassian looked approvingly over you as you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.
“If your plan fails, I may as well take you up on that. Gods know it’s been too long.” You often played into Cassian’s endless flirting, a key reason as to why your friendship developed so fast. He was right, the leathers were tighter than you had expected as well. You weren’t as toned when you began training. They are already made to fight directly to your body, so pulling on ones from a size ago was almost impossible. Still, you managed to buckle them around you, admiring yourself in the mirror. The leather truly hugged your skin, enhancing your strong thighs and body. “What is your plan, by the way?” You asked, looking suspiciously at Cassian.
“I’m gonna kiss you.” Your jaw dropped at his statement as his laughter floated over the training ring. “Don’t look at me like that! Imagine it, Az comes up here and sees you like that, with me? He’s going to be so jealous I won’t be surprised if he has his way with you right here.” You felt your face heat at his vulgarity, shaking your head quickly.
“No way. No way. What if he instead thinks, oh I dunno, that we are together?” You point out, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Trust me when I tell you that he won’t.” Cassian took a step closer to you, holding out his hand. “I am not as dumb as you may think.” You sighed, reluctantly placing your hand in his and letting him lead you over to the side of the ring. You may as well attempt his plan, however ridiculous you think it is. He places a hand on your waist as he pulls you close to him, the other coming up to cup your face. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”
You shook your head, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “What do I have to lose? If it doesn’t work, at least I got to spend my morning with a handsome male,” you quipped, winking dramatically at him. You felt his laugh under your hands, the nerves of what you were about to do calming down. This was Cassian, your best friend. You could trust him.
He dipped his head down towards you, eyes locking onto yours once more to ensure you were okay with this. You pushed up on your toes and connected your lips, using the last little bit of confidence you had. Cassian’s hand slid to the back of your head, tangling itself in your hair as he angled you up into him. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, enjoying how he so clearly knew what he was doing. You moved your arms up to lock around his neck, arching your body into his touch. He nipped at your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth to him, almost forgetting why you were doing this.
Almost.
Anticipation slithered up your spine and you forced your eyes to stay shut, even though you wanted to peek and see if Azriel had arrived yet. Cassian’s hand flattened across your back, pulling you tighter against him. You lost yourself in his kiss, allowing your body to relax into his hold.
Something cold and weightless tightened around your calf, pulling your attention away from Cassian as you looked down. Your heart was racing as you took in one of Azriel’s shadows, swirling anxiously around your ankles. Cass didn’t allow the little thing to distract from your plan, bringing his lips up and down the side of your neck. You tilted your head back to allow him more access, an embarrassingly needy noise slipping from your mouth when he nipped at your skin. The shadow spun faster around you, another one coming to wrap around your waist and tug you from Cassian’s grip. You stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over more shadows behind you. “Wha-“ you began, cut off by a shadow wrapping around your throat. Cassian’s eyes widened and he glanced behind you, true fear on his face. That was certainly not comforting.
An arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your back flush against a strong chest. You forced your breathing to stay steady, realizing it was Azriel behind you. “Cassian,” he said slowly, “what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was quiet, but threat laced his words. Cassian paled, raising his hands in surrender.
“Now Az, let me just explain-“ You shook your head as best you could against the shadows hold, not wanting Cassian to embarrass you further. As if this could get any worse. You were going to murder him for this.
“Leave us. Now,” Azriel commanded Cassian, voice still dangerously calm. You couldn’t help but be a little worried as you watched your friend practically run out of the training area. If Cassian didn’t think he could deal with Azriel right now, what chance did you have?
The shadows disappeared from your body, but the arm around your waist only tightened. You repressed a shudder as you felt Azriel’s lips brush the tip of your ear, leaning down to whisper to you. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing?” You sucked in a breath, all confidence gone now that you were alone.
“I-I’m not playing a game,” you stuttered out, cursing Cassian in your head.
“Mhm,” Azriel said, his other hand coming to trace up and down your thigh. “You just happen to be dressed in these delightful things,” his hand slid between your legs, squeezing your inner thigh. “You show up extra early to practice, and I find you with my brother’s lips on your pretty little neck?” He ghosted his own over the same stretch of skin Cassian had kissed, a shiver running down your spine. “And to make it worse, I have to listen as you make that delicious noise for him?” He nipped your neck in the same spot as Cassian, causing you to gasp in surprise. “Hm, not quite.” His hand between your legs moved up, fingers finding you easily over the tight fabric. You bit your lip and tipped your head back as he circled your clit, the teasing pressure not nearly enough with your leathers in the way. “Look at you, already so reactive for me.” He pressed slow, hot kisses along your throat, his fingers continuing their almost perfect teasing.
“Az-“ You breathed out, arching into his touch. “It wasn’t, ah, it wasn’t real.” He chuckled darkly against your skin, his fingers pressing harder onto you.
“Oh, I know. I don’t take Cassian’s sloppy seconds.” His words were punctuated with a sharp bite under your ear, his teeth sucking in the skin there. You knew he was undoubtedly leaving a bruise, marking you as his. A rather embarrassing whimper left your lips, his fingers still punishing you over your leathers. “That’s more like it,” he groaned, biting a second spot on your neck. You have another helpless noise, enjoying the way it clearly affected him. “I’m going to make you cum, just like this. Do you understand?” He moved his fingers tight against you, playing you like an instrument he had trained for. His lips brushed against your ear again, sucking the lobe of it into his mouth. “I’m going to make you cry out my name, without ever truly touching you.” Heat rose in your cheeks at the humiliation of it. He was going to ruin you without any effort.
And you were going to let him.
You moaned his name as you felt the pleasure build in your core, pushing yourself harder against his hand. “I always knew you’d be so good for me,” he growled, a shadow angling your face towards him. You almost finished at the look in his eyes, his pupils blown wide as he worked you. “I want to look at you when you come undone for me.” You moaned again, trying desperately to lift your head up to kiss him. The shadow kept you in place, a slow smile spreading over Azriel’s face. “Not yet.” He leaned down enough that your lips were a breath away from his, but not any closer. You shook in his hold as the pleasure his fingers were bringing intensified, the teasing too much to bear.
“Azriel, please,” you gasped out, fighting against the shadow. You could feel yourself about to snap, legs quivering as you climbed that peak. He said nothing, only watching you with those stunning eyes of his as his fingers pushed you over the edge. You went rigid against him, mouth open in a silent scream as your orgasm took over. He kept working you through it, prolonging your pleasure as long as he could. He stopped when you collapsed in his arms, chest heaving as you sucked in air, trying desperately to come back down. He released you then, watching as you stumbled before turning to face him. His eyes drifted down your body, stopping on the wet spot he had made between your legs.
“I’d say you’re ready for training now.”
***
Here is a short little smutty piece for Azriel Baby <3. I might make this into a mini series 👀. I am still working on Pt.2 of Longing, I just hit a bit of a block and needed to get something else out!! I hope you enjoyed 🩷
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genshin-obsessed · 6 months
Note
It's nice to meet a fellow simp of Monsieur Neuvilette.
Could I request his s/o going swimming with the leisurely otters and when he asks what they were doing, they say that they're playing with their children?
Omg those otters are so cuteee! I can't help but stop and play with them every time haha Word count: 557
Parent of the Otters~
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"Where could they be...?" Neuvillette muttered to himself as he stepped outside Palais Mermonia. Where in Fontaine could you possibly be? The chief justice began walking, slowly going down the steps and waving to anyone who greeted him. Today was an early day for him so he decided to go and find you. As expected, he'd been a bit busy the last few days so he wanted to make it up to you by dedicating the rest of the day to you,
Having some idea, he followed his instincts to the water. You loved swimming so much, Neuvillette wondered if you weren't half fish because of it. Even the first time the two of you met, you were swimming. You were quite the oddball but your love for the sea was undeniable and unmatched by anyone he knew. It was one of your charming quirks that he couldn't help but love.
Thankfully, you weren't too far, choosing to swim around Salacia Plain, right near the small hill. Neuvillette was able to spot you as he was exiting the Court of Fontaine. The chief justice felt a rare smile tug at his lips when he saw you giggling, floating on your back. You were kicking your legs slowly to propel yourself around before dipping into the water and popping back out after a moment or so.
He made his way down to you, watching as you swam around like the fish that you were. Even though he was nearby, you seemed to be lost in your world, not noticing him at all until he spoke.
"You are here." His comment made you look toward him and your smile brightened immediately.
"Neuvillette! Hi! Look!" You said as you raised your arm high and flicked your wrist twice. Two otters jumped out of the water and over you, diving into the water only a foot behind you.
"You've taught the otters tricks now, huh?" He asked with a small shake of his head. Of course you did. You loved swimming with the otters and he always saw at least three around you. You had even named one of them Neuvillette, claiming they looked like one another- but he didn't understand that.
"They're my children now. They're so cute and they're always following me like I'm their parent so I've officially chosen to adopt them!" You giggled as three of them poked their heads out of the water.
"Our children apparently." He muttered to himself as he got closer to the shore. "They're certainly fond of you." He crouched by the shore and reached out his gloved fingers grazing the water. With just a simple flick of his wrist, a wave formed behind you and your subsequent children. It got bigger before moving back toward him. You squealed as you were whisked away to shore, bringing you to your husband. You gasped as you felt the sand below you, making you look up at him with wide eyes. You were right in front of him, his face only inches away from yours, his icy blue eyes gazing deep into yours.
"N-Neuvillette?"
"Sorry, you were too far and you seemed to be a bit distracted." He said as he leaned in before kissing your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut as you wrapped your arms around him, returning the sweet and loving kiss.
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woso-dreamzzz · 9 days
Text
Finally
Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: The pining is finally over
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There's a hand on your waist.
You've been in Spain for nearly two months now. You've completed preseason and played your first two matches for Barcelona.
You've gotten used to Natalia and her touchiness. In her home country, she's more touchy than she ever was out of it. It's natural to have her skin against yours, holding you tightly.
You're used to her hand on your waist.
But it's not her hand on your waist right now.
The game earlier was a good one. A clean sheet for you and a seven goal win for the rest of the team. You don't know who it was but someone had floated the idea of going to the club.
You'd tried to wiggle out of it. You avoided clubs like the plague when you could. The music, the drinks, the too little space had you feeling boxed in and nervous but somehow you had been convinced.
Which was why you were sulking at the bar all night, trying to make yourself look as small as possible, which was quite a difficult task.
Natalia had been by your side all night, hyperaware of how this was absolutely not your scene. She'd held you like you love to be held and whispered straight in your ear so you could hear her over the music.
Every shift of her body had goose bumps erupting down your body and you wish for her presence now as someone else reaches to touch your waist.
"I recognise you," This newcomer says," You play for Barcelona, right?"
There's an edge to her voice that you can't place and she looks up at you from under her lashes. Her fingers gently dance up and down your waist.
You don't like it.
It doesn't feel like how Natalia touches you and you don't like it at all.
Talia disappeared off to the toilet a few minutes ago, promising that it would only take a second.
A second was all it took for this new girl to come up to you.
"Er...yes..."
She giggles like you've said something funny but you don't think you have. She steps further into your space and you wonder if it's impolite to back up a few paces.
It's different in Spain to Sweden. You wonder if everyone is as touchy as Natalia is, even if it's toward a complete stranger.
"I'm a big fan," The girl is practically purring, her voice dropping low and you have to crane your head down closer to hear her over the heavy bass of the music.
Her hand skates up to your bicep, squeezing the muscle there.
"You're so strong," She says, trailing her finger up and down your arm," What are you drinking? Can I buy you a drink?"
People in Spain are very friendly, you think and you look down at your glass.
"I've just got a coke."
She pouts, batting her eyes at you as she somehow steps even closer. "Just a coke? You've just come out of a big win. Don't you want to let loose a little?"
You let out a few awkward chuckles, eyes darting around desperately in search of Natalia. "I don't drink during the season."
"That's so disciplined. You're so disciplined, so in control of yourself. Are you always so in control of yourself?"
Somehow, she's pressed herself against you. Your chests are pushed together as she looks at you, a half-smirk present on your face. You don't like this at all but she's Spanish so you assume it's another one of those cultural things that confuse you.
You don't want to shove her away and be impolite but you don't want her touching you anymore, skin crawling.
A hand lands on your waist again but you recognise it this time.
Natalia hooks her chin over your shoulder and stares down at this new girl.
"Can we help you?"
The girl moves to speak, to say what you don't know but it's clear that Natalia doesn't care because she gently nudges you to move.
You relocate closer to the doors and Talia keeps glancing over at the other girl, face set firmly into a frown.
"Why did you let her do that?" She asks, her eyes not straying away from the girl at the bar," Touch you like that? Touch you like how I touch you?"
"She was just being friendly," You say. Your brow furrows and you're sure that your little crinkle has appeared.
Natalia scoffs, swirling her drink around angrily in her glass. "She wasn't being friendly. She was flirting." She spits out the last word like it personally offends her.
"She was?"
Finally, Talia cuts her gaze to you. Her features soften slightly as she looks at you. She downs her drink in one go. "You're so oblivious," She says. The words are soft and low and barely audible over the loud music but you still hear them perfectly.
"What?"
Talia's looking at you in disbelief, shaking her head before she's got your waist in her hands and she's pulling you closer until her lips ghost your ear.
"You're so oblivious. I couldn't believe it at first but it's true. There's so many girls trying to throw themselves at you. That girl from earlier, girls at matches. They touch you in ways that aren't friendly and you jump through hoops trying to convince yourself it's platonic. You're so oblivious."
Ever so slightly, her hands tighten on your waist and she pulls back to look at you.
She isn't that much taller than you so you're practically at eye level as she stares.
Her eyes flick from your gaze down to your lips and then back up at your eyes again.
That's when everything comes crashing into you.
All those hugs, those private 'friend' dates to coffee shops and restaurants, those naps you took on her sofa together.
"You don't even know," Talia continues, like she doesn't even care about the bomb she's just dropped on you," I think that's even worse. You can't even let them down easy but you just don't know. It's infuriating."
Your heart's in your throat or, maybe, it's in Natalia's hands because you can't tear your eyes away from her.
She's still holding your waist, her hands familiar and welcome. Her gaze is hypnotic and your chests rise and fall in sync with each other.
"Natalia-" You say before breaking off. Your eyes dip down to her lips, barely even a glance but you know she catches you looking. "Talia...I...I think I'm in-"
"I know."
She kisses you like you're the only two people in the room. It's different to the kiss you shared as teenagers when you were scared and unsure.
Her lips mould against yours easily and everything else blends away until it's just you and her.
"Natalia," You breathe out when she pulls away," Do you...Do you want to go on a date with me?"
Talia laughs, pecking your lips. "Ask what you actually want to ask, mi vida. You will like the answer."
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"
"Yes."
You go home with Talia in that moment, completely forgetting that you had told your mothers you would call tonight.
423 notes · View notes
parkerslatte · 2 months
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Finding Home || Part One
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Azriel x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: loneliness.
Summary: Azriel never thought he would find someone who loves him. Everyone around him has their own life and family and he feels like he is floating between them with no real purpose. When he meets someone in the rain, everything might begin to change.
Finding Home Masterlist
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
A/N: I might make this into a series if people enjoy it…because I have many ideas.
•••
In his whole life, Azriel just wanted to be loved by someone. Over his five centuries of existence, he has taken plenty of lovers, both females and males. Though to each and every one of the people he had lain with, he never felt any sort of attachment to them. They had never spent the night with him, when he awoke in the morning, the other side of the bed was empty and cold, a clear indication that they had left hours before. Some left a small note thanking him for a good night but most left with no word never to be seen again. 
At the beginning, this did not affect Azriel. He was simply young and looking for a bit of fun. But as time has gone on, the more Azriel longed to wake up next to someone. To have the side of the bed warm and the sound of his love walking about the house. To feel the soft caress of their skin as they fell asleep with each other's arms. Whispers of loving words exchanged before they both drifted to that relaxing, unconscious space only dreaming of one another. 
Azriel longed for that. He longed for a home. He longed for his own family. 
Nyx was nearly ten years old and Feyre was again pregnant with her and Rhys’s second child. Cassian had recently told Azriel that he and Nesta were trying for a child. Azriel was happy for them, elated even. But there was a small stinging pain in his heart. The pain of knowing that his family was moving on with their own lives without him. They each had their own families to care for and worry about. He was no one's priority. 
At Solstice, Azriel was always the one standing on the sidelines. Rhys had Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. Lucien had Elain. Mor had Emerie. Amren had Varien. Every single member of his family had someone that they cared for and would die to protect. Azriel could only wish he had that type of love. 
There was once a time where he thought he and Elain could work out. Three sisters for three brothers, it all made sense in Azriel’s mind. But after that initial lust faded away, Azriel realised how incompatible they were. Their conversations turned stale and awkward and Azriel would always catch her sneaking glances at Lucien. It wasn’t long before Elain began to pursue the youngest Vanserra– leaving Azriel alone once again. 
Currently, Azriel swirled his whisky around in his glass. He hadn’t taken a sip from it as he stood near the door. It was Solstice and all the presents had been exchanged and now everyone was happily sitting and talking, lounging around on the couches and chairs. Azriel was the only one not sitting. His shadows swirled around the room, as they usually did whenever everyone was together. If anything were to attack, Azriel would be the first line of defence. Everyone else had a family or were going to have a family, they had everything to lose– he didn’t. 
There was a pull at the bottom of Azriel’s trouser leg and he glanced down. Elain and Lucien’s one year old daughter sat there smiling up at him. Azriel offered her a smile as one of his shadows caressed her cheek and she let out a delighted giggle. Using his pant leg, she heaved herself from the floor and demanded to be picked up. Azriel’s face clouded over in amusement as he bent down and took the young fae into his arms. 
The girl simply looked around, not used to being up so high. Azriel watched her look of amusement with fondness. Her red hair bright in the dim lighting of the room, and her deep brown eyes wide in wonder. 
“Hycinth?” Elain said as she looked around for her daughter before relaxing once she found her in Azriel’s arms. 
As soon as the young girl heard her mother, she struggled to get out of Azriel’s arms and he let her down without a fuss. She crawled over to her mother and up onto her lap while Lucien watched his daughter fondly. Azriel folded his arms across his chest, his heart feeling like it was being poked by a million pins. Nyx was sleeping with his head resting on Rhys’s. Nesta was sitting in Cassian’s lap, looking so in love with each other that it made Azriel stop breathing. The same went for all of the couples, they had so much love for each other that they could only focus within their small circle. 
None of them even noticed when Azriel slipped out of the house and into the night. 
It was raining when Azriel got outside, his clothes immediately soaked through and his hair was plastered to his forehead. Though he didn’t care in the slightest, he continued to walk through the torrential downpour until he made it to a bench by the park. 
He should have stayed at the house, it would only bring to the surface more questions as to why Azriel was distancing himself from his family. Seeing them altogether was always bittersweet for Azriel. Of course he loved his family, he always would, but seeing them together with their own families and their own lives. Azriel was not sure where he slotted in amongst them anymore. He didn’t have anyone to love. He didn’t have his own family. He was alone. 
The rain continued around him and Azriel didn’t move. The chill of the wind and his soaked clothes only made him colder but he didn’t care. He would stay here all night if he had to, for the rain to wash away everything he had been feeling tonight. Tomorrow he would start with a clean slate, maybe he would feel better about everything tomorrow. Azriel hoped when he woke up everyday that this was the answer. He hoped that he woke up one day and did not care. But Azriel knew that the cycle was always doomed to repeat itself. 
As Azriel was deep within his own thoughts, he failed to notice the rain no longer falling upon him. It fell around him but never on him. He wasn’t broken from his continuous strain of thoughts until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. 
Azriel’s head snapped in the direction the touch came from, his shadows swirled around his shoulders like snakes preparing to strike. What Azriel didn’t expect was a female holding an umbrella over his head, staging at him with concern. 
“Are you okay?” she asked. “It’s just…you’ve been sitting here for an hour. I walked past earlier to buy some bread and you were here and I’m on my way home now and you are still here. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”
Azriel was at a loss for words. Anything that he could say was lost on the tip of his tongue. Articulating his feelings was never his strong point. 
“It’s raining a lot,” the female said, trying to have a conversation. “It seems to be raining a lot more recently. Have you noticed?”
“I have noticed,” Azriel muttered.
“So he does speak,” the female said, a small smile gracing her features. 
Azriel met her eyes, and for some reason, he felt himself smiling back. It was probably barely noticeable to her but to him, the feeling felt foreign. 
“So,” the female said, taking a seat on the bench next to Azriel. “Are you okay?”
With a heavy sigh, Azriel answered, “No, actually. I’m not. It’s Solstice, I should be spending it with my family but I’m sitting out here in the rain alone.” Azriel couldn’t stop the words freely flowing from his mouth. “I tried to enjoy myself, I really did. But all of them each have someone they love to celebrate with. They each have someone to go home with and have their own celebration. They have children or are going to have children and I’m just there by myself. I just constantly feel so–”
“Alone?” the female cut in.
Azriel’s gaze met hers and she held a sympathetic expression on her face. “Yes. I feel alone. And I don’t even know why I am telling you this. I don’t even know you.”
The female shrugged. “Sometimes it's good to get things off your chest, even if it's someone you don’t know. It can sometimes be bad to keep everything bottled up.”
Azriel relaxed his shoulders the smallest amount. “I do feel slightly better after getting that off my chest.”
The female smiled brightly. It somehow lit up the darkness around them. “I’m glad I could help you relieve some tension you are holding in those shoulders. I’m Y/N by the way.”
“Y/N,” Azriel repeated her name. It felt right coming from his mouth. “I’m Azriel.”
Y/N looked away sheepishly. “I did have an idea of who you are.”
“Oh,” Azriel replied, feeling slightly disappointed. 
“I didn’t know when I first walked over here,” Y/N said. “I only realised when one of your shadows did this.”
Y/N held up her arm and one of Azriel’s shadows lightly caressed her wrist. Azriel’s eyes widened. 
“I’m so sorry,” Azriel replied, reeling in all of his shadows. “They don’t normally do that.”
Y/N chuckled slightly and it was a melodic sound that cut through the air. “It’s okay.”
Azriel nodded before he looked down at the ground. “So, why are you out on Solstice?”
Y/N offered him a tight lipped smile. “Well, my friends all have their own large families to spend Solstice with. I was invited to a few of their houses but decided to stay home and have a night to myself. I’m only out because I needed to pick up some bread because I wanted to make a sandwich.”
“Are you not lonely?” Azriel asked the question before he could even stop himself.
Y/N shook her head. “Not anymore. At first I was, I mean when your friends start moving on without you, everything seems to change so fast. All of their time was taken up by their children and partner. But as time went on, I began to get used to it and realise that I’m not lonely as I have people around me that love me and support me. I am simply choosing to be alone right now,” Y/N said. “And I’m glad I did, because I wouldn’t have bumped into you. Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome.”
Azriel flushed and looked down at his feet, not expecting the compliment. Y/N simply laughed. That melodic tone once again cutting through the air.
“Do you want to come back to mine?” Y/N asked. “I can make us sandwiches?”
Azriel knew his answer immediately but took a moment to answer as if he was contemplating the decision. He didn’t want to look too eager. “I would like that.”
Y/N smiled brightly. “Come on then! The sooner we get there, the sooner I can change into some dry clothes.”
Azriel looked at her and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. While she had been shielding him with her umbrella, she hadn’t held it above herself, causing her clothes to soak through, much like Azriel’s.
“Take the umbrella back,” Azriel said, pushing her hand away that was clutching the umbrella.
“No,” Y/N said stubbornly and grabbed Azriel’s arm and forced the umbrella into his hand and folded her arms across her chest. “You take it and keep hold of it until we get to my apartment. Now come on.”
Azriel followed her and fell into pace next to her. Even though she was putting on a determined face, Azriel could see through the facade as she shivered as the cold rain poured down upon her. Stretching one of his wings, Azriel lifted it until it shielded her from the rain the best he could. Y/N looked up at him in surprise, her shivering ceasing the smallest amount as his wing blocked out the wind. 
Y/N smiled at him as she hesitantly wrapped her hand around his arm. “You are getting my most amazing sandwich for that.”
A full smile bloomed on Azriel’s face as he walked with Y/N to her apartment. Maybe he didn’t need to be so alone after all.
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hollybell51 · 1 year
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Don't bet on it
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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader
Supernatural (2005)
Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)
Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.
Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.
Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.
Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…
“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 
There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 
“(Y/N)?” 
Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 
“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 
Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 
“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 
“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 
He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 
You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 
“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 
“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 
“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 
Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 
You smiled. “Lemonade.” 
He nodded slowly.
“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 
He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 
“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 
“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 
Despite yourself, you laughed. 
Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 
You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 
“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 
“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 
“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 
You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 
“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 
Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 
Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 
“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 
“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 
“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 
You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 
But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 
“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 
“It is.” 
“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 
“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 
“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 
The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 
You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 
“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 
“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 
“No, we’ve got two singles.” 
“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 
“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 
“I know, but–” 
“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 
“What’s that supposed to–” 
He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 
You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 
By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 
“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 
Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 
You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 
“Would you like some help?” 
You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 
He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 
“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 
“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 
Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 
He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 
“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 
“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 
Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 
“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 
“Should I keep going?” 
You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 
“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 
“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 
He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 
“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”
Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 
You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 
“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 
He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 
His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 
Oh. Oh. There it was.
He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 
Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 
He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 
It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 
It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 
You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 
“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 
“Hm?”
You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 
“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 
He looked up, frowning. “What?” 
“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 
He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 
“Is this alright?” he asked. 
You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 
“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 
You nodded. “Are you?”  
He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 
Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 
“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 
“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.
“Hm?” 
“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 
“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 
He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 
Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 
You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 
“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 
“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 
“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 
He nodded. 
You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 
“Please,” he murmured. 
You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 
Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 
Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 
“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 
“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 
You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 
At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 
You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 
He stared. “Do you want to?” 
You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 
Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.
His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 
Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 
A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 
“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 
Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 
You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”
“Touch me?” 
“Mhm.”  
He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.
“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 
You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 
It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.
“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 
“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 
You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 
His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 
He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 
“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 
“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 
You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 
“But?”
“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 
His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 
“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 
“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 
“Mhm?” 
“Are you sure?” 
“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 
“Yeah, alright.” 
“Alright?” 
He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 
You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 
Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 
“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 
“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 
You smiled. “Magic word?” 
“Please,” he practically growled. 
Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 
“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 
“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  
“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 
The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 
“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 
You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 
“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 
“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 
“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 
For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 
He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 
You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 
Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 
As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 
Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 
“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 
“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”
“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 
He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 
Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 
“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?
You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 
He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 
“Is this alright?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Mhm.” 
“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 
“Mhm.” 
“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 
“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 
“I want you to feel–” 
You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 
“But I’m–” 
“Cas.” 
He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 
“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”
He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 
“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 
This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 
“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 
Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 
“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 
“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 
“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 
He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 
“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 
“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 
“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 
“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 
“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 
“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 
“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 
He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 
It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.
And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 
“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 
Cas froze immediately. 
“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 
“Is this not–” 
“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 
Cas frowned.
“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 
His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 
“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 
Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 
“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 
He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 
“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 
“I don’t want to squash you.” 
You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 
“How do you know?” 
“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 
He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 
You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 
“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 
“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 
You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.
You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 
“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 
“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 
He swallowed, his eyes dark. 
“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 
He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 
Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 
“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 
“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 
“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 
He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 
He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  
“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 
Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 
“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 
“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 
You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 
He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 
You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 
“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 
“Hm?” 
“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 
“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 
You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 
You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 
You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 
When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 
He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 
“What’s wrong?” you asked. 
“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”
Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 
After a moment, he nodded. 
It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 
“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 
Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 
“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 
You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 
“Should I not have?”
“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 
“You don’t?”
You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 
“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 
You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”
You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.
“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 
“Hello.” 
You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”
He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 
“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”
“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 
You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 
“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 
“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 
“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 
You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 
He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 
“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 
“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 
You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 
“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 
“What do you want?” you growled. 
“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 
“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 
He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 
You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 
He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 
“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 
“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 
“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  
“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 
“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 
You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”
Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 
“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 
“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 
You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 
“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 
Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 
“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 
“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 
Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 
“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 
He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 
Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 
“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 
“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 
Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 
“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 
“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 
Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 
“No? Who else?” 
Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 
Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  
“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 
It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 
“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 
“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 
“No, I mean–” 
You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 
“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 
“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 
Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 
“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 
Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 
“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 
“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 
You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 
“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 
You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 
“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 
“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 
“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 
Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 
“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 
“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 
You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 
“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 
Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”
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artist-issues · 4 months
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I Saw Wish
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And it was the worst animated Disney movie I’ve ever seen. I have to watch it again before I can get into the nitty gritty details. But I don’t need details to sum it up, because my dad actually said it perfectly as we left the theater:
“It was like someone who didn’t really understand Disney movies tried to make a Disney movie.”
Both the form (the technical arts of filmmaking) and the content (the morals, values, and themes of the movie) were totally horrible.
I don’t know who’s fault it was. Jeremy Spears was in the storyboard room and Mark Henn and Eric Goldberg did some 2D animation. But they must have gotten outvoted, or they must not care anymore.
Because holy cow. Here’s some stuff that’s just off the top of my head.
SPOILERS. Not that it matters, because nothing interesting happens in this movie.
The writing? Terrible. Ninety percent of it feels like the characters are filling time with quirky one-liners that are trying too hard to be appealing, then failing, then taking you out of the movie. The jokes aren’t funny. The characters just respond to each other in conversation to check a one-liner box. The other twenty percent is whole conversations repeating tell-don’t-show exposition that has already been covered, usually twice, in previous scenes. Like if in Tangled, every scene had included some variation of Rapunzel saying to friends and enemies alike, “I have to see the floating lights so I’m sneaking to the castle with this thief who wants a mysterious tiara I hid from him. Don’t tell my mother, she’s a bit overprotective!” Over. And over. And over.
The character motivations are way too broad. Asha? Her dream is just “that everybody around me gets to be happy.” That’s it, in a nutshell. No deeper exploration of that. Nobody asks, “why do you care so much?” Nobody tries to convince her she should look out for herself, and then she proves she was right all along. The King? We are told (not shown) that he doesn’t want anyone else’s dreams to be “destroyed.” But he in no believable way expresses that that motivation is still what’s driving him during the movie—what’s driving him is just a plain old lust for power, no nuance.
By the way, the whole premise of the movie? Undercooked. Half-baked concepts strung together with no definitive meaning. Therefore, it’s not believable. Example: The characters act like the wishes are beautiful—well, actually, no, this movie doesn’t know how to show, so there’s not a lot of meaningful acting—the characters just tell us that wishes are “the most beautiful part of someone,” and that’s why it’s worth going through this adventure to give their wishes back to them. But there’s no proof of that in the movie. In fact, it directly kicks it’s own legs out from under that idea, because it has every character who gives up their wish forget that part of themselves. Asha’s grandfather has forgotten his wish, but that doesn’t make him any less “beautiful.” She, and everyone, still treats him like he’s this wonderful old man who deserves the world, who everyone loves…but why is he so appealing? If he “gave up the most beautiful part of him?” The only character who is changed by their lack-of-wish is the Sleepy-analogue character…who is just sleepy, which is described as “boring.” But nobody else who’s given up their wish in the whole kingdom acts like that. It’s just him. Also, the King acts like it’s so important to protect the wishes from destruction. But what does destroying a wish look like? That actually happens to Asha’s mom. Her wish-bubble is broken, literally, and she just says she feels grief. But like. Why? She never remembered it in the first place; it had been missing from her life for years. Also, what the heck is a wish?! It seems to range from broad concepts like “inspire people” to “fly.” Just “fly,” like a bird. The desire to levitate off the ground is the most important, beautiful essence of one background character. Like, what?! But no character ever has the why behind their wish to make us care.
I could go on and on about that point. Like, think about Disney movies that wrote the book on how to make movies about characters with wishes. If Ariel were in Wish, her bubble would look like “dancing and learning and exploring on the Surface with someone who understands her.” But we believe that that is her real, genuine wish, and that it matters to her, because we are shown why being understood is so important to her. Because it’s missing from her life. There’s a scene where she explores a boat alone, and even her best friend doesn’t get excited about it with her. Her dad won’t listen to her point of view. Her siblings don’t ask her about her life even when they think she’s in love. She wants what she wants because of pieces of her life that we are shown.
We are never shown why Asha’s grandfather is obsessed with inspiring people, so we have no reason to believe it, or care whether he gets it or not. We can’t feel disappointed when his wish is said to “never come true,” like we did when Quasimodo was abused by the people he wished to join. We can’t feel elated when he finally “gets” his wish, like we did when Simba smiles on Pride Rock remembering the same way he used to as a cub and claims the crown with a roar. We don’t have anything to hang on to, nothing to relate to, nothing to grasp and feel with the characters. So we don’t feel, because they didn’t put the work in to help us feel. They just say, “the mom’s feeling grief. Feel grief.” And expect us to do the work ourselves. I have to stop harping on this point and move on.
But The main point of the movie is very broad because of that lazy premise, and it’s barely reinforced by any kind of appealing storytelling. If I had to guess, the point would be “Keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” But the story they told to communicate that meaning was so unimpactful. Asha doesn’t have a dream of her own that’s such hard work to accomplish! (Neither does her grandfather; his wish is “to inspire people.” And at the end, we’re supposed to see him strumming a guitar and believe it’s inspiring? We were never shown how he worked hard to learn how to play the instrument. Or that he carved it with his own hands, or anything like that. So there’s no meaningful demonstration of working hard for it or achieving your wish even if it’s far out of reach.) And nobody except the king is trying to take wishes away from anyone, and he just does it literally, after they voluntarily give them to him, so there’s not even any impactful demonstration of “don’t let anyone tell you your wishes are dumb or unachievable, or stop you from reaching them.” Even when he takes them away, it’s just because they…could, someday, be used to threaten his kingdom in a vague, really unlikely way. There are so many things you could do with “keep wishing for more even when it’s hard.” For instance; you could say the main character has always been afraid to dream (wish for more), because maybe when she was a kid something wonderful almost happened but ended in tragedy, so she keeps her head down and doesn’t want much because if you don’t dream you’ll never be disappointed. She takes no risks, and has to learn that sometimes trying and failing is worth more than slogging through life all self-protective. I mean, the pieces were right there. She has this line about her dad, and how she wished he would get better but then he died. She has lines about how nobody should have to live with grief?? Then that’s never addressed again! It’s just a throwaway emotion-moment with no buildup or follow-through to tie it to and support that main theme.
The compositions of too many shots were so terrible. Characters got cut off in weird places. One shot has Asha dead center, with her grandfather on the left side of the table and her mother on the right, having a family dinner with a super exposition-heavy conversation that is meant to be emotionally charged. But despite everything else being perfectly centered, half of her mother’s body is chopped off. The movie’s shot like someone’s mom who doesn’t understand technology tried to take a video with her phone.
The charm of the art “style” wears off basically immediately. I know what they were going for. I see the sketch lines and watercolor textures. This is maybe the first time Disney ever failed to accomplish a visual “look” that turned out good. Everything looks dull. Muted. De-saturated. Slightly out of focus, but not in a cool Spider-Verse way. The sets or backgrounds are lazy; at no point does the scenery look complete; big, empty, boring spaces that do not create any kind of “stage” for impactful moments. The rendering looks unfinished. When Asha’s hair moves during her belting of the “I Make This Wish” song, it’s bad. It’s unnatural. It flops in a way that doesn’t make sense for the weight of her hair. The most impactful visual moments come from the villain, and they’re moments when he looks way too unhinged for the kind of line he’s saying.
There is no interesting character development. Asha goes from believing everyone is basically good and their wishes deserve the chance to come true , to….that, again. That would be fine, she could be a static character, if she proved contrast-characters wrong, in a believable way. But she never does. Because no other characters argue with her except the King. And it goes no deeper than “everyone’s wishes are basically good and they deserve the chance to make them true” vs. “nuh-uh, because I get to decide what makes them deserving.” The King doesn’t have any kind of interesting development, either. They don’t expand on his tragic backstory—it consists of one drawing of him near a broken boat, and a few images of the corner burned off of his family taoestry. They never say “King Magnifico wished for _____ and it was taken away!” They literally never tell you what his wish or dreams were, or what motivated him to create the whole kingdom that the movie’s premise sits on. So there’s no convincing sense of progression, how he got this way, why he’ll keep going “so far.”
The pacing is weird. It undercuts every moment that could have any kind of emotion behind it. One minute Valentino is suavely bouncing around, then he’s given a two-second beat to blubber with badly-animated tears that he’ll miss Star—then he instantly gets to have another funny one-liner so we forget he might’ve been sad a second ago. We’re clearly supposed to believe that the King and his wife are devoted to each other, and his turning evil was such a big betrayal, but there’s no time and no impactful evidence for us to believe either of those things. And even if we did, the moment he’s defeated and trapped in a mirror, and begs to be let free, the Queen kind of shrugs it off, makes a forgettable one-liner, and tells them to throw him in the dungeon. And he doesn’t look remorseful. And we don’t even get to assume he’s embarrassed or emotionally devastated that he’s come to this—because the last thing he says is “nooo, the dungeon is so smellyyy!” Like this is a half-baked LEGO short that can’t get emotionally deeper than what an actual 3 year-old’s parents might be okay with.
And that’s the worst offense: The movie is not genuine. It works hard for nothing, and it has no vulnerability. It just uses old Disney standbys to pretend to be vulnerable. Have the music swell and the characters gasp and the songs drip emotion when characters are meant to be saying or doing something emotional.
But truthfully, think of all the Disney movies you’ve ever seen with the hardest emotional moments. The sheer joy of Genie when he realizes he’s free. The anguish when Elsa thinks Anna’s been frozen forever, or when Anna thinks she’s dead. The trauma when Simba loses Mufasa. The longing and dreaming of Ariel when she reaches up out of her grotto. The sense of foreboding when Mother Gothel says “fine, now I’m the bad guy” or the heartbreak in Rapunzel’s eyes when she thinks Flynn has abandoned her, or the shame on Aladdin’s face when Jafar reveals he’s a street-rat, or the horror of cruelty when the stepsisters rip up Cinderella’s dress, or Kala’s tears when Tarzan leaves her in the treehouse, or Sarabi’s tears when Simba comes back, or Mulan’s father tossing aside the sword and token of the Emperor to embrace Mulan, or heck, even just Lilo pushing Stitch in the woods and telling him “get out of here.” This movie has no moments like that. It has moments you can tell that the filmmakers wanted to hit like that—but they don’t.
Because no work is put into building them up. You know how much Simba loves Mufasa, because you’ve been watching their chemistry more than any other character all the way up till he dies. You know how much Mulan wants to please her family because she spends all of Act I desperately attempting to do that. You know Quasimodo believes the world below is beautiful and wants them to accept him because he has interesting things like—talking to gargoyles, convincing us that he’s lonely; building a scale model of the townspeople, convincing us that he sees them in a beautiful way and wishes he were beautiful in more ways than one like them, too.
Right down to the facial expressions, none of them are as anguished, happy, sad, excited, silly, in any convincing way like all of Disney’s other movies. Asha’s “low moment” when she’s afraid her “wish” hurt everyone else (still vague on what that wish ever was) lasts two seconds, she’s not crying, she’s barely sitting with slumped shoulders, and her family barely spend two seconds comforting her. They basically just say, “aw, no, it’s not y fault, it’s the king’s.” And she’s like, “yeah okay” and that’s that. It’s like the animators we’re afraid to animate really intimate emotions on the characters’ faces. The voice actors, too.
And the whole movie is peppered with Easter eggs to past Disney movies. But all that does, if you really know Disney beyond the visuals, is make you think of how hollow this movie is in comparison. How much you wish you were watching Cinderella or The Little Mermaid or something with depth and vulnerability instead of Wish.
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frannyzooey · 7 months
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Short Days, Long Nights: 13
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Joel Miller x f!reader
Series Masterlist
Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)
A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤
--
Jackson. 
The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present. 
More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day. 
“Where are we gonna go?”
He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive. 
You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades. 
You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.
“Where are we gonna go?”
He doesn’t fucking know.  
Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life. 
This…this was for him, and for you. 
The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week. 
Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it. 
He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway. 
Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map. 
He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach. 
It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.
When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot. 
Another life, upended by abrupt violence. 
Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had. 
He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child. 
More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago. 
Is it betrayal to feel joy?
He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed. 
Jackson. 
A bed for the baby.
“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”
You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window. 
“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”
The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this. 
Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants. 
After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter. 
Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty. 
“What is this?”
Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch. 
“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down. 
He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.
“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is. 
“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”
“.......And the legs?”
“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”
You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it. 
“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”
“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”
Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.” 
“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind. 
“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself. 
Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair. 
“Don’t worry about it,  honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”
Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you. 
“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you. 
He shrugs. “Not bad.”
You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”
Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching. 
“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness. 
“Tell me about it,” you sigh. 
You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite. 
“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”
He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?” 
You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place. 
“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.
“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”
“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his. 
He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”
“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”
The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it. 
“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”
“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”
“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”
The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints. 
“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”
“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”
You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut. 
“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them. 
“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”
He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago. 
“Tell me what you know.”
A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same. 
The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like. 
All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings. 
“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”
You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl. 
“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”
He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing. 
“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”
Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth. 
“Joel?”
“Yea?” 
“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you. 
The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass. 
“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”
Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory. 
Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up. 
One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin. 
“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”
Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles. 
Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest. 
He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten. 
The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away. 
“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.” 
Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat. 
Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a  weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner. 
You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet. 
“Okay, you can open ‘em.”
Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.
“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”
He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”
Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life. 
“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”
“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”
After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you. 
“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”
You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.
“Okay, open em’ up.”
It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect. 
Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”
“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”
“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own. 
“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over. 
“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel. 
“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?” 
“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”
He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”
Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss. 
“I love it.”
You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.
You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat. 
“I guess you really liked it.”
You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.
“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.
“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”
“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.  
The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.
The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine. 
Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb. 
The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast. 
Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat. 
“Please. Please.”
He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple. 
Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop. 
“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak. 
“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized. 
A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest. 
“Holy shit.” 
The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm. 
Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take. 
He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body  in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.
“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss. 
“Christ, honey, turn around.”
Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks. 
Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable. 
“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine. 
Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips. 
He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise. 
“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”
His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind. 
“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”
“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster. 
You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. 
“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster. 
He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons. 
When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin. 
His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants. 
“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes. 
Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair. 
His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself. 
The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”
“Yes. God yes. Please.”
He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”
After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation. 
“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward. 
Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know. 
“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”
“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”
His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you. 
“Joel!” 
Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.
Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath. 
“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep. 
“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”
The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh. 
The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.  
Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.
823 notes · View notes
utterlyotterlyx · 16 days
Note
Can I request something where Azriel has to pick up Nyx from school one day and thinks his teacher is cute & is very flirty with her?
Yes! Love this idea so much!
When I Kissed The Teacher
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary - Feyre loves Nyx's teacher but loves playing matchmaker even more. After sending Azriel to collect Nyx from school one day after feigning a studio related emergency, she's very happy to learn that Azriel's affections are completely in the palm of your hand.
Warnings - none really, just cuteness all round
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Feyre had always been worried about sending Nyx off to school, even though she believed Rhys when he told her that the schools of Velaris were the best in Prythian, she couldn't help but feel anxious that he wouldn't thrive.
Then she met you, and all of her worries faded away.
You were everything Feyre wanted in a teacher for her child, it had taken a lot of weight throwing to get him into your class, it was full to the brim of children from higher born families, only wanting the best for their offspring. Feyre wasn't even surprised.
It was clear how much you cared about your children, in nurturing them into intelligently creative creatures. Other teachers focused solely on the academics, but you had a passion for the arts, you said creativity helped children to find their passions and grow into more compassionate and joyful souls.
Nyx had run into her arms when she had come to collect him that first day, babbling on about what a wonderful time he had with you. Miss Y/L/N. Feyre had never seen such wonderment in his eyes when he told her in that broken infant language how great you were. Everyone's worries about Nyx becoming a shell had vanished.
The little thing had returned home with paintings, reciting poetry from your favourite passages; he had the desire to read, making different voices for the different characters like he had learned from you. Nyx was well and truly flourishing.
Feyre had insisted that you walk home with them one afternoon, since you only lived five minutes from the River House and it was on your route home anyway. From that walk, Feyre had learned much about you, that you were from Spring but left after being disowned by your family for wanting more from life than being married away to be used as a breeding tool. After that you had travelled the continent, making many friends along the way and opening your mind to the world before settling in Hewn City, only to be brought to Velaris on Rhys' orders because he had heard of your talents and passion and wanted it taking root in the children of his city.
The more you spoke, rambling on about art and books and theatre, did Feyre come to the realisation that a certain someone would be absolutely besotted with you. When you had hugged Nyx goodbye, ruffling his hair and telling him you'd see him in the morning, did Feyre begin to hatch her plan.
Azriel wasn't one for sunshine and rainbows, but even he had to admit that Nyx's and Feyre's gushings about you had him intrigued, even Rhys had commented on how sweet you were, seemingly very fond of how Nyx was excelling under your wing.
"Az, would you mind grabbing Nyx today? I have to head to the studio, delivery emergency," Feyre floated past him toward the door, a thin cloak fitted around her shoulders to protect her from the afternoon summer breeze that drifted along the Sidra.
"Uh, yeah. Sure," he waved Feyre from the house as she dashed down the path shouting over her shoulder what time to be at the school for.
The sun was beginning to dip in the sky but warmth still flew through Velaris, Azriel walked along the winding paths and up the hill to the school, the skittering sound of children's laughter filling his ears as he approached. Parents parted as he walked down the cobbled stone path, not wanting to graze against his wings with slight unease in their eyes. Azriel was used to it by now, the looks of disapproval, the slight fear in the people he passed.
The bell rang and birds shot to perch on the branches of the trees that surrounded the plush gardens teeming with bright flowers and wildlife. Children began to file out from the open door, grabbing their bags and running to their parents with wide smiles, excited to tell them what you had taught them that day.
Azriel spied the inside wall littered will paintings and cards, all addressed to you, as well as a wooden table filled with the gifts the children had no doubt made their parents purchase for you.
Then he saw you, and the Shadowsinger audibly gasped. There you were, dressed in a loose white blouse with stringed corset, an earthy brown skirt that fell to the floor covered in colourful handprints that reached your thighs, your hair was unbound and baby hairs whispered along the sides of your face.
You were sunshine. You were radiant.
Nyx's hand was curled in your own as you led him out of the classroom and Azriel could have sworn he'd never seen a brighter look on anyone's face as the little man searched the crowd, "Uncle, Az!"
Your gaze had also fallen on him and you drank in his smile as Nyx left your grip and hurtled to the Shadowsinger, his grin was large, showing off all of his teeth as he bent down and wrapped Nyx in his toned arms, laughing loudly and asking about his day before standing up.
"I don't think we've ever formally met," you held your free hand out, your other carrying Nyx's bag, "I'm Y/N, well, Miss Y/L/N."
You were as soft as summer rain, adoration in your orbs, and you radiated purity and grace. Azriel glanced at your outstretched hand, sliding his own into it and feeling a force of gravity will him closer to you, "So you're the one that has Nyx ready for school at the crack of dawn," he felt relief when you didn't recoil at his hand in yours, the hands that usually made people grimace, "Azriel," you giggled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your pointed ear.
High Fae.
"Guilty as charged," your voice was like butter, smooth and rich, the perfect balance of femineity.
"Can't say I blame him," he smirked at the heat that rose to his cheeks, at the sheepish smile that tugged at your lips.
"That's very nice of you to say," one of your students walked past you, waving goodbye, and Azriel watched you bend down and fix her jacket to her body, telling her to have a lovely weekend in the sun, "Nyx has had a lovely day today. He just keeps on flourishing, it's remarkable," you had told him once you had risen again.
"I'm sure anyone could flourish with you around. Must be the Y/N effect," he cocked his head to the side at your giggle, just happy to be able to examine the woman who had Nyx all excited every morning. Feyre and Rhys were right, you were remarkable. Like a rainbow rippling in a storm.
"Must be it," the birds jumped from branch to branch around you, like they wanted to keep an eye on you for as long as possible, flitting to the bird houses you had erected by the pond of ducks and in the trees.
"Would you like to walk home with us? Feyre mentioned that you didn't live too far from the house?"
Your mouth fell into the perfect o shape, "Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"
"You're not," Azriel smiled, looking down at Nyx, shaking his little hand and asking, "Is she, Nyx? Would you like Miss Y/L/N to walk home with us?"
"Yes!" Nyx shouted and you laughed, a laugh that made the edges of your eyes crinkle, you disappeared into the building, returning a few moments later with you satchel, locking the door and taking Nyx's free hand in your own after handing his bag to Azriel.
Azriel was positive that he'd never seen Nyx shine so brightly.
The walk home was full of light chatter, you made Azriel laugh more times than you could count, and Nyx was pointing out random things along the way, looking up at you for approval and tapping his feet on the ground when you nodded and smiled.
From the house, Feyre watched through the curtains as Nyx ran up the path, and kept watching as Azriel lingered behind, she wished she could hear what he was saying to you. But as you smiled, and blushed, and then nodded at the Shadowsinger who was kicking his feet like a schoolboy, she knew it was going well.
Strong arms wrapped around her midsection and her back hit a hard chest, his deep chuckle vibrated through him and his warm breath fanned against her ear, "Playing matchmaker again, darling?"
Feyre hummed with a gentle smile, accepting the peppering kisses over her shoulder as she watched you walk away, looking back at Azriel and waving before turning the corner, "I think this is my best one yet," she told Rhys, noticing the pursed smile on Azriel's lips and the faint pink tinge to his complexion as he followed Nyx up the path.
"I'm inclined to agree."
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SO CUTE!
Thank you for the request! x
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throneofsapphics · 4 months
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Hi I saw you were open for drabbles and I hate this idea of like reader gets sick or need to take medicine for whatever reason but wont take it because it tastes bad. So I was thinking either maybe Azriel, Fenrys or if you don't like the two you can do a poly couple having to like force feed the reader because she wont listen to them?
Its okay if you don't like the idea though.
easy decisions
Azriel x Reader
Summary: you’re sick and refusing medication, Azriel takes matters into his own hands. 
Warnings: illness, forced medicating 
A/N: thank you for the request! I’ve think i’ve written this idea before, idk why but I love it 
“Mother save me,” Azriel muttered, crossing his arms. A small mountain of pillows and blankets surrounded you, a fire still roaring in the corner of your room. You’d been ill for days. At first, Madja said you’d likely get better with good rest and food - but it had progressed to the point where intervention was necessary. 
Yesterday, you’d taken it willingly - today was proving a bit more difficult. Unlucky for him, you were the most stubborn person he’d ever met. Lucky for you, even if you didn’t think that, he refused to compromise when it came to your health. 
“I suffered through it once,” you hissed, “that was plenty.” 
“And Madja said to take it once a day.” 
Mouth clamped shut, you shook your head and slid down in the bed. Adjusting the comforters around you, you turned your back to him. 
In. one, two, three. Out. one, two, three. 
“It’ll be over quickly,” he sat next to you, running his hand over your shoulder, the other folded around the glass vial. 
“The taste will stay in my mouth for days.” 
“You’re being a bit dramatic,” he murmured, and you snapped your head towards him, eyes narrowed. 
“You take it then.” 
“I’m not sick,” he fixed you with a look, “and I have.” 
The same stubborn expression. He loved you, he really did, but right now you were making it difficult. 
“You're not going to convince me.”  
“I already have hot chocolate for you,” Azriel tried a bribe this time. 
A shake of your head. He’d give it one last try. 
“Don’t make me force you,” he said - a half plea, half warning. 
Eyes rolled, “you won’t.” 
Another breath, in and out. “One more chance.” 
You studied him for a moment, and a bead of hope flared in his chest - extinguished when you turned your head back, tucking the blankets up with you. 
Azriel didn’t like doing this, but you were forcing his hand. Either you take the damn tonic, or he has to watch you grow more ill. It’s an easy choice for him. Moving quickly, he placed the bottle on the nightstand, gently gripping under your arms, tugging you up to sit. You yelped, thrashing in his grip, but he was already straddling your hips.
A shadow floated the bottle over, he snatched it and flicked the cork off, sending it flying somewhere across the room.
“Take. It,” his jaw clenched, normally endless patience at its limits. 
Hands tried to shove at his chest, but shadows wrapped around your wrists, pinning them at your sides. Your jaw remained clamped shut, and he wondered if you were doing this just to spite him, or if it really was because you hated it. Either way, he wouldn’t feel too bad over it. 
His hand wrapped around your jaw, scarred fingers rough against your smooth skin, and he squeezed - just enough for your lips to part, and to tip the contents of the vial down your throat, before he squeezed your jaw shut. Your entire face scrunched, but your throat never moved. 
“Swallow,” his voice was firm. 
A shake of your head - as much as you could move it. Now he knew you were being stubborn on principle. He tossed the vial aside, letting it clatter over the carpet, and pinched your nose between his thumb and forefinger
A promise of vengeance gleamed in your eyes. He’d like to see you try. A few seconds passed, your face growing red, but the desire for air took over, and your throat bobbed. After taking a few seconds to make sure you actually swallowed all of it, he carefully removed his hands. 
You sputtered, sucking air in and out of your lungs. Shadows still held your arms down as he ran his fingers through your hair, one thumb brushing away the drops on your lip, before pushing back into your mouth. You glared, but your tongue swirled, cleaning the last few bits. 
“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He couldn’t help the small barb - especially as he saw the spark in your eyes, the fire he loved so much. 
A healthy dose of self-preservation had him sliding off the bed before completely freeing you, ignoring the litany of curses you spit at him to retreat to the tray placed on the dresser. It was risky, giving you his back, but the illness had you weak enough you couldn’t do much to him. 
Approaching you like someone might a feral kitten, he extended his peace offering. The mug of warm molten chocolate, exactly as you like it. You huffed and rolled your eyes, but took it from him, trying to fight the small smile. 
Azriel sat a few feet down - out of your reach, and moved the blankets enough to reach under, running his thumb in circles on the inside of your knee. “I hate seeing you sick.” 
Clenching the mug with both hands, your eyes softened, “I know.” 
“Will I have to do this again tomorrow?” 
A small hum, neither a yes or no. For fucks sake. 
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webslingingslasher · 6 months
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thinking..... nerd!peter shyly asking you out for the first time, completely prepared for a rejection and almost having a heart attack when you say yes - ⭐️
when peter's friends hype him up, it's to be expected. they float him with fake self-confidence and tell him how great he is and how lucky someone would be to have him.
this is expected, they are his friends. they know how great he is, because they know him.
you do not know him. you will not think he's great.
when may hypes him up, it's because he went to her in confidence and determination. he had sat next to her on the couch one evening, before letting it out.
'how do i ask a girl out on a date?'
may gasped, pausing the crime show, she couldn't wait for this moment. the moment her nephew would experience the thrill of having a lover in his life. he has no idea how alive he's about to feel.
'who are we asking out?'
'someone i like.' peter appreciates may, but she can also get ahead of herself.
may picks up on the apprehension, 'okay, what, you guys share a class or a friend group?'
'class. she doesn't really know me.'
his aunt shifts in her seat, 'have you tried talking to her? even just a little?' peter shrugs. 'i mean, i smile at her sometimes?'
'are you asking how to talk to her or how to ask her out?'
even if he feels shy admitting it, he cares more about getting to spend time with you. 'i could talk to her on a date, couldn't i?'
may grins, 'next time you see her, just ask her if she's doing anything this weekend and go from there.' peter freezes, 'go from where?'
'have you even thought about come comes next after she says yes?' panic fills him, 'no, i never thought i'd get that far.'
'peter!' may sighs, 'if you want a real answer, it's confidence. come up with a date and ask her.'
'what if she says no?' peter's aunt frowns, 'it happens. rejection sucks, but you brush it off and try again. you put yourself out there and tried, you got a no and that's fine, next time you ask, it won't be as scary.'
peter feels like he has no shot, but the one percent chance of maybe pushes him along.
-------
peter swallowed every bit of anxiety and slowly walked up to your locker. you were in another world, humming and singing under your breath. swapping books and folders you started to zip your bag, peter hasn't said a word and fears he's staggered a bit too long.
he did, because when you turned you jumped with a small scream. holding a hand over your heart you breathed out, 'you scared the fuck out of me, peter. are you always that quiet?'
peter wanted to ask you out, but he scared you instead. he doesn't have high hopes. he ignores you and spills before he has the chance to bolt, if you say no, he has the weekend to recover.
'can i ask you something?'
you smile, 'i think i did first, but sure.'
peter looks behind you at a group of your friends, they're standing back and looking very interested. he needs to get out of there, he thinks he's about to die.
your hand on his shoulder makes him look back at you, it's unfair to have eyes that can ease his anxiety and make it go tenfold.
'are you doing anything this weekend?' you take a second to think, 'um, i think my dad wanted to do something. why, what are you doing?'
when you see his face fall you understand his question, he wanted to spend his weekend with you. suddenly, you feel very stupid about your answer.
peter smiles softly, 'nothing, just wondering. you, um, have a good weekend, okay?' he's able to take two steps before you grab his wrist, peter spins back around and waits patiently, he's expecting the 'you too!'
'unless you want to hang out this weekend, in that case i have no qualms about blowing off my dad for you.'
an explosion of joy, your heart picks up, no way he's asking you out.
peter can feel his heartbeat in his throat, he has no idea how he got so lucky. may said girls liked confidence, he didn't show much, but he could now.
'would you like to go out with me this weekend? on a date?'
you can't stop smiling, your cheeks hurt. it feels better when he matches your smile. 'yes. i'd love to go on a date with you.' 
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