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ohmygoshimmovingon · 5 years

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Comfort

Comfort (noun)

1. a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint.

2. the easing or alleviation of a person's feelings of grief or distress.

Comfort (verb)

1. ease the grief or distress of; console.

One of the best feelings is comfort. Everyone’s comfort is different. You can find comfort in so many things. Comfort comes from being in your bed, or being in bed with someone who brings you comfort. Comfort comes with eating your favorite food, or a home cooked meal (especially after you’ve been eating caf food in college every day). Comfort comes from being with family and friends. Comfort comes from watching your favorite movie, even if it is the 50th time, and you’ve memorized every word. Comfort comes from driving late at night, listening to that song (you know the song, it may not be your absolute fav, but it is your fav to listen to when you’re doing the late night drive. You know the one). Comfort comes from the things you do when you’re sad, even if it is listening to sad songs, when you’re already sad, that only makes you MORE sad. Comfort comes from a random feeling from people around you, there is no way you could even put the feeling into words. Comfort comes from reading and reflecting on your favorite bible verse. Comfort comes from hearing someones voice or someone’s laugh. Comfort comes from just being in the presence of the right person. Comfort comes from shopping at your favorite store, even if you spend wayyyy too much money. Comfort comes from seeing the right person’s name pop up on your phone. Comfort comes from that scent, like the song, you just have to know the scent. Comfort comes from taking off that outfit that you only where that you only wore to look cute, and not for comfort. Comfort comes from a hug from someone, whether it is a greeting hug, a hug when you’re sad, any type of hug. Comfort comes from the people you surround yourself with hyping you up, when you don’t feel like you look your best. Comfort comes from the hobby you do to take your mind off of things, and just escape. Comfort comes from your favorite pair of shoes, all types, shapes, and sizes. Comfort comes from your favorite late night snack (Like when you wake up at 2am, can’t sleep, get bored, and decide, to put your boredom to rest, you’re gonna eat. EVEN THOUGH, you’re not even hungry). Comfort comes from that nail color you get when you’re at a loss of what to get. Comfort comes from wearing all your normal rings and jewelry (I know we all feel naked without them). Comfort comes from a shower, perfect temperature, nice playlist, and towel ready. Comfort comes from where you find it, because it is different for everyone.

Who, what, and where does my comfort come from? My bed is my favorite place in the world to feel comfortable, but I also find comfort sleeping anywhere with my Bub next to me. My favorite food is wings, you alreaddyyyy knowwww, but my favorite home cooked meal is my Gmoney’s baked macaroni, roast, and veggies (Big Al’s crawfish is a HOT second). Being around family is great, shoutout to my Gmoney, my Ten, and Trent. Friends can always make things better, honorable mention: Bub (shocking, I know), Hoes Don’t Get Cold, THOSE bitches, and even Sands and Drakey. My favorite movie(s), because I can’t pick one, are The Greatest Showman, Moana, and The Blind Side. My late night drive go to is Oceans by Hillsong United, but right after that, it is either Crazy Beautiful by Luke Combs or Speechless by Dan and Shay (honestly I have a late night playlist, these are just the ones I like the best, right now, subject to change). When I’m sad, I watch David Dobrik, possibly James Charles and Jeffree Star (mainly David, I will normally start then in order, over and over). I also, have a sad song playlist (It WILL make you cry, hit me up if you’re tryna cry, I’ll give you the deets). My random comfort feeling comes in the Dome at the Saints games. There is no other feeling like it. My favorite Bible verse is Proverbs 16:24 “Kind words are like honey, sweet to the soul”. This is my favorite Bible verse because my Gramps would always remind me of it constantly (this is always why I tend to call everyone honey, well hunny). My favorite voice and laugh to hear is, yes, you guess it, Bub’s. I’m sorry he brings me so much comfort y’all, I’m just being honest. The person whose presence brings me comfort, well, Bub, again, but also Maria. They both make me feel so much less alone, even if we aren’t talking and we are just being together. As bad as it is for my wallet, Lulu Lemon brings me a whole new world of comfort. Okay, I shouldn’t even touch on this one, because YES, THE PERSON WHOSE NAME POPPING UP ON MY PHONE THAT I LOVE THE MOST IS BUB. Special shoutout though, my favorite time it pops up is when it says “Juan Raymundo answered incorrectly” on Trivia Crack. The scent of my Gmoney brings me a serious comfort, and the smell of a certain someone’s (yes.) clothes when I miss them. Every night I go out or wear fricken JEANS, it is the greatest feeling to take the outfit off, wash my face, and put on a big tshirt (no bra of course) and shorts. The hug thing is specific for each thing, and kinda works the same for everyone. If you haven’t seen someone in a while, it feels great to hug them (it’s that long good snug hug). When I cry, I like to be held by Maria, and Bub. I have to say, there was one time, in Lafayette, when Maria and I were leaving, and Sands knew I was sad. He hugged me and we exchanged a look, and it was like a mutual (everything will be okay look). That hug was one that definitely brought comfort. My friends HYPE. ME. UP. Hoes Don’t Get Cold, THOSE bitches, even Bub most times. To escape from the world, I like to paint (watercolor hits the spot). This is the thing I do when I don’t nap to escape. My pair of shoes of choice, is indeed, my very classic 270s. You’ve all seen them, because I wear them, uhhh pretty much everyday. At night, thanks to Juan Manuel Raymundo, my fav snack is purple Doritos and fucking Queso. I am well aware that is unnecessary calories, but YALL, it is so good. White, light blue, or black, and white again. Those are my go to nail colors, and by go to, I mean they are the ONLY colors I have ever and will ever get. I wear 4 rings. My class ring on my middle finger on the left hand. On my right hand, the index finger is home to the cursive s ring Juan’s mom got me for Christmas, my middle finger houses the thick ring with a raised cross my Ten gave me, and my ring finger is for my 3 shotgun house ring from Jose Bali that my Gmoney got me. I wear my S THOSE bitches necklace everyday, and my star cuff bracelet. I ALWAYS have a ponytail and a scrunchie on my wrist, if the scrunchie isn’t in my hair (but i always have the extra ponytail, because you never know). Recently, I have been wearing my colorful “Sophie” thread bracelet next to my star cuff too. I CANNOT forget the four piercings in each of my ears. I don’t even care what earrings are in them. I just need them in. I like my showers absolutely SCALDING hot, like burn my skin please. I would like the water temperature to be so hot, it fogs up the mirror almost immediately. I tend to listen to very mellow music.

I know it seems like I have so many things that make me comfortable, and there are probably more. As you all noticed, a lot of my comforts root from Juan. I would like to think that I am a good amount of his too. I don’t think it is a bad thing that he makes me feel so comfortable. I think it just another thing to add to the list of reasons he is my best friend. I am sure you think that these all have an underlying message that relates back to Bub. You’re not wrong, but it isn’t completely intentional (the last one obviously was). He is extremely important to me, and he has helped me so much. Things are hard, and have been for a while now, and he has been my distraction and hope. Finding someone you can connect with like I connect with him, is a 20/10 experience. Just don’t pick him, -20/10 would recommend that, because I’ll kill you. He’s my best friend mofos. LOML.

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resetmypatientviolence · 6 years

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Damn, Daniel! (NSFW Alphabet)

Like I said before, shittiest bar... but the best service. How’d that wine treat you? We have some fine scotch, imported from only the rarest of countries that you’ve never heard of. Oh, I do hope you’re settled in for the evening. The main course’s just beginning, and my dears, it’ll leave you begging for more, until the very last bite. The night’s just begun... and yes, of course, whiskey, coming up. I promise you that you’ll leave tonight... simply satisfied.

Note: A NSFW Alphabet brought to you on this Thirsty Thursday by @boneandfur and myself. A huge shoutout to her letting me hop on this crack ship train. Please enjoy!

Pairing: Daniel The Waiter x TRR MC, Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 9,474-- get some wine, block some shit on moblie, and sit back.

Warnings: Language, NSFW-- and a very LONG FIC. Please block long post, nsfw, Choices Thirsty Thursday, Damn Daniel if you do not want to scroll on mobile. A Read More is attached after the picture, but Tumblr is shit.

Summary: While Daniel remains MIA, we explore through saucy, funny, and angsty drabbles that there was always a little more to Riley and Daniel’s friendship....

Permatags: @youwontlikewherewewillgo, @mfackenthal, @jadedpixiescribbles, @ashtonmore, @pbchoicesobsessed, @hhiggs

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) ~

“Would you care for an after dinner mint, madam?” Daniel asks in his most pompous voice, and they both break out laughing. They're finishing up their drinks, Riley is leaning against the desk and he can see the pink scalloped edge of her thong peeking out of the back of her work trousers when she rolls her hips, and he remembers pulling them down with his teeth, how he's always dreamed of that, how it was better than his every fantasy—

“Yes, let's go get after dinner mints,” Riley says with a sly grin, and then he's following her dumbly to the bar, not sure where she's going with this, but wherever Riley goes Daniel follows. Riley pops a wintergreen mint in her mouth, and then she's easing down his boxers, and she says, “Let me take care of you, Danny—” and she's the only only who calls him that, the only one he lets call him that, because when Riley says it that way—Danny—breathy, excited— there is something erotic about it— and Daniel doesn't mind at all.

She doesn't say anything else, just swirls her tongue around the tip of his cock, and then deep-throats him, sending a minty tingle spiraling around his cock like icy fire. Daniel tries to last, to hold onto the exquisite feeling of Riley taking all of him in her mouth, but in the end takes less than five minutes before he's blowing his load and she's licking every inch of him dry. He never remembers how exactly he made it home that night, all the way back to Queens and that seven story walkup, but he still remembers that blow job every time a customer who smells like gardenia shampoo asks for an after dinner mint.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

“Wow,” Riley says in complete shock she pulls down Daniel's pants. “Wow. Oh my god. No wonder your dates scream all night.”

Daniel rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry, Riri.”

“Oh god no, don't you dare apologize for this, Danny.” Riley holds up a Trojan from her purse. “I don't think this is gonna be big enough. I think—”

Daniel pulls a Magnum out of his wallet, and Riley licks her lips. “I got us covered.” She grabs the condom packet from him and rips it open, pinching the tip as she rolls it all the way down to the base. “Get in that chair.” Riley pushes Daniel down in the boss' rolling chair, and sinks down on his cock, aching for him to fill her up, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him, and then his mouth is on her collarbone again, and she can't help but start to move against him slowly, each time sinking further and further down until he's balls deep inside of her, and she thinks she could come right now and die a happy woman.

Daniel's favorite part of Riley is that collarbone. He's imagined kissing it and it's like a dream when he does, it tastes of bourbon and cream, everything he's ever imagined, nothing he's ever known. “Riri,” he exhales, worried he sounds too needy, but she's leaning back over the boss's desk, pushing papers out of the way, and she focuses on him again, and makes that noise— that noise she makes, late at night, on the other side of those thin, thin walls that separate their bedrooms— when it was just him and his hand, and her and her fingers, neither one of them daring to cross that line —

“Riri,” Daniel says again, jerky, he could come right now and die a happy man, but he's waited too long for this, and so he undoes another button on her shirt. “I could kiss you here all night if you just keep making those noises,” he chokes out.

Riley is already soaking wet, and she thinks This could really be something— but she pushes that thought away, this is Danny, who knows her better than anyone, why shouldn't he know how much she loves it when he kisses her collarbone, and when he looks at her like that— “Keep going, Danny,” she commands instead, and he does.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

“Give me that, I've got an idea,” Riley says with a naughty wink. She dips her finger into Daniel's cum and he wonders for a minute if she'll lick it off her finger— That's hot— but instead she rubs it along the rim of the boss's favorite coffee mug with a smirk. He can feel his dick stirring again, especially because she wiggles her ass when she does it, like she's freestyle painting, and he thinks about that ass— all the times he's noticed a customer checking it out and spit in their drink— and this is, it's naughty, it's dirty, it rings all his bells and he likes it, dammit.

“Let that asshole enjoy his coffee now.” Riley smirks, and Daniel pulls her to him for a hot open-mouthed kiss, all too brief.

The next day, when the boss asks Why is my coffee so salty, Daniel? and Daniel says, Would you like an after dinner mint sir? Riley winks, and he can't help but think of her licking up every drop of jizz from his dick as she knelt before him at the bar, his hands caught in her hair.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The walls are thin and they both know it, but Daniel doesn't start getting off to the sounds Riley makes until they're six months in and he's fallen for her.

One night he's lying in bed, trying to sleep, when he hears them— Riley stumbling home from the club and the rumble of a man's voice, and then Riley is moaning softly, and Daniel can feel his cock stiffening at the sound she makes. No, he can't do this, this is wrong, this— and then he hears her voice. D, D, D!

Well, that's that then— Daniel can't stop himself, not anymore. All thoughts of right and wrong fly right out the window.

He grips his shaft in his hand, sliding slowly up and down,

And in his mind, he's opening his door, and she's standing there. She takes charge and drags him to the bed, and she lays on his bed and spreads her thighs wide, and says “Show me what you learned, D,” in a husky voice.

On the other side of the wall, he can hear her breathy moans: Give it to me, D!

And Daniel gives it to her: he sucks at her nipples, at her clit, he's writing his name with the tip of his tongue on her clit when she tangles her hands in his hair, clenching her thighs, screaming, “D! D! Harder! Fuck me with your fingers, D!”

The bed creaks a little and he can hear her cries ascending, D, D, D! and he starts stroking his shaft faster, all the way from the base to the tip, imagining her hands are on it: and then Daniel hears it— it's not the sound she makes when she's putting on a show for some guy (he knows that sound), this is a different sound, the sound she makes when she's alone and right on the edge— and he blows his load right as he hears Riley go over the edge, wide-eyed and panting hard in the dark.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He always knows Riley has a man in her room when his cat, Mew, is sleeping in his. It's not that his cat doesn't love him, it just that she loves Riley more, especially because she has her own spot on Riley's bed and Daniel won't even give her her own pillow.

But some nights it's different, some nights they both have someone over, and he's learning just how to make them moan— his booty calls, girls or guys who come over past midnight, after his shift is done—

And in the morning when he leads them to the door, kissing them (Megan? Molly? Mandy? Mark?), he'll turn around to find Riley sitting on the kitchen counter in her black tank top and boxers shorts and she'll wink at him, licking chocolate ice cream off a spoon. “Getting better at that, grasshopper.”

“I don't knowwww what you meannn,” Daniel will rub his hand on the back of his neck, appearing flustered (but secretly pleased), and then he'll run into the shower, and wish he could practice on Riley instead. Those girls are great, but they're a dime a dozen, especially when he only wants one woman in his bed.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

“My fucking chair! It's broken! I don't know why! Get me your fucking manager!” Their boss screams over his phone at some hapless Uskea employee.

Riley sneaks Daniel a Look, and they both split into grins, unable to keep from laughing. He knows he's blushing, hard, but he can't even care.

“What? What's so funny?! Get back to polishing the silver!” The boss screams, spittle flying from his mouth. He storms into his office, and they hear him let out a stream of curses.

“I heard there's royalty in the city, Riri,” Daniel whispers, polishing up the streaked knives. “Think they'll come here?”

“To this cheap ass bar? Psssht, you wild, Danny,” Riley says, hitting his arm. He feels his chest warm at that, and then they hear their boss screaming curses at Uskea again, and they both remember—

Riley, pushing Daniel down in the boss' rolling chair, sinking down on his cock, aching for him to fill her up, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him, and his mouth on her collarbone again, and she starts moving up and down, an electric tingle rising in her belly, and she's gripping the back of the chair and timing her rhythm to the pace of his thrusts when the brake slips on the chair and it's rolling across the uneven floor, faster and faster until it slams into the back wall, driving Daniel so deep into her that for a moment, Riley can't breathe.

They stare and one another and then he's kissing her, and she's riding him hard again, screaming “Yes, Danny, yes!” just like he's always imagined. This time, when the chair starts moving, they push it back against the wall, because they can't stop and they don't care if the whole place falls down around them as long as he makes her come, over and over again.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

They can't stop laughing, they're drunk on top shelf booze, and Daniel holds up a bottle of whiskey, pretending to know everything there is to know about it. “Real men drink whiskey, Riri,” he says in a pompous tone, knocking back a shot.

“Do real men fuck their friends on the bar?” She bends over, presenting that perfect little ass to him, the one that the customers stare at (it makes him so jealous), and he realizes she isn't joking anymore when she grinds that ass right into him. “I fucking want you, Danny,” Riley gasps as Daniel's fingertips press lightly to her hipbones. “Right here, right now.”

She's pretty goofy when she's drunk, but so is he— even if he's “no fun” because he won't do it on the bar, the kitchen counter, or on one of the back booths. It's only when she's splayed on the boss's desk and Daniel's fingers are ghosting lightly over the elastic of her underwear, his mouth on her collarbone, does Riley think Oh shit, Danny. This could really be something. And in the end, she thinks it again— This could really be something— when they've stopped laughing, stopped talking, Danny's nose touching hers, foreheads slick with sweat, only communicating through kisses and moans.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Riley came home once from a spa date with her friend Kai and put an ice pack between her legs. “I got a Brazilian, Danny,” was all she said byway of explanation. And when he's going down on her that night, when he pulls her underwear down, he finds her landing strip, like X marks the fucking spot.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When it finally happens, she wonders where this guy has been all her life besides right in front of her, Danny, her Danny, her roomie and her lover for tonight— kissing down her body, worshipping her. She thought it would be over so fast, that he'd fuck her over the bar, that he'd finish in less than five minutes, but the intimacy of it stuns her. Instead, Daniel lingers: on her collarbone, on her mouth, stroking her through her thong until she's begging him — Danny, Danny, please, oh my god, please!— and he slides two fingers inside of her, teasing her entrance as he continues to kiss her, as though they had all the time in the world.

Let me, Riri, he whispers, coaxing that first orgasm out of her slowly, so slowly that she feels her whole body shudder with the force of her orgasm, her hips lifting right off the table and into his touch, and she's moving her hips faster and begging him, and he slows down, edging her along until she comes apart against his fingers, whimpering, and he whispers, Forget royalty, Riri, tonight you're my queen.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Riley has a dildo, although she doesn't often need it. Usually she's happy to just use her fingers, unless she's going through a particularly long dry spell. As for Danny, she knows when he's getting off— usually in the morning — and the sounds he makes usually arouse her so much that she gets off too, on the other side of those thin, thin walls.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Riley's been sitting and typing for nearly an hour, grinning like a fool. He's watching Battle of Crowns, but he can't exactly concentrate when Riley is giggling over her phone and her cold little toes are up against his thigh. Daniel doesn't have a foot thing, but sometimes he'll rub Riley's arches, just to hear the sound she makes when he hits the sweet spot.

Two of the characters on screen have just started to fuck up against the wall in the garden when Riley pipes up. “My characters just did that.” Then she claps a hand over her mouth, blushing beet red.

“Your characters?” Daniel isn't quite sure how many glasses of wine she's had, but if it's as many as him, then they're both on the road to hell. “Riley... You don't mean... Did you write a Battle of Crowns fanfic?” Like he doesn't know. Like he hasn't “accidentally” read some of it when she left Tumblr open once.

“...Maybe?” Riley twists a strand of hair around her finger. “See, there's this thing? Called ‘Thirsty Thursday’? And I'm writing this NSFW ABC...” She thrusts her phone at him and covers her eyes. “Read K, and tell me what you think?”

Daniel reads it and Riley can't stop giggling. The characters are doing it in public, up against a wall just like in Battle of Crowns, except it's from that comic, Hero, and it's the pretty little superhero and the anarchist anti-hero, and... “So, like...They just start going at it without a condom or anything, huh?” Daniel whistles through his teeth. “You— I mean, they— sure like to live dangerously.” He raises a brow, and Riley snatches the phone back. Maybe his fantasy is BDSM clubs, but he's never told her about it. That's his kink, of course, but he's not going to say it aloud.

“Great idea!” Riley beams. “This is gonna be a hit, I know it!”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

When they're first discussing it, in a joking manner, mind you, Riley hops up on the bar and spreads her legs apart, pulling Daniel in. He can already tell it won't work, the proportions are all wrong. Plus, well, it's the bar. He wrinkles his nose. “Riri, that's so unhygenic. You know he spit shines that thing, do you really want your bare ass on it?” She jumps off so fast that he laughs a little, and then her legs are around his waist, and they're kissing and kissing, and before he knows it he's got her pressed up to the wall in the kitchen, rocking against that sweet spot between her legs, and she says,

“Danny, Danny, do me on the counter,” and he almost gives in, but no—

“I want to spread you out and see all of you,” he whispers, hot against her neck. And he's mad at the boss, he thinks of how he spit in that asshole's coffee this morning (it still wasn't enough, it's never enough) after he checked out Riley's ass and made a lewd comment about he'd like to plow her later if she ever stopped being such a bitch. Daniel had wanted to put his fist through the boss's face right then and there— But this is better, he thinks.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When she’s gone, and he’s trying to get over her—it was just one fucking night, Daniel, just one night— he thinks back to all the times, like a fever dream, when he’d sneak glances at her ass in the bar, or how when the minimal sunlight they got, just striking right past 4 in their apartment, would fall across her when she sat on the couch, reading a book or just browsing her phone, legs often crossed, Mew at her feet, always. Or how she convinces him to take a shot of top shelf booze the night they hook up, how she threw her head back and swallowed the whiskey effortlessly and oh so sexy. Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t just one night… for him.

Aw hell, now he’s thinking of the one night they were wine drunk—as per usual for Danny Boy and Riri—and she held up a banana, eyebrow raised. He’s hopelessly crushing on her, and he swore she knew it—but never said a word. Though the pointed ass wiggles and stares… no, there was no point to think otherwise. He saw her on group dates and how she acted. That’s just Riley, bubbly, and flirty, and otherworldly to anybody and everybody. She could rule or burn a kingdom with one look.

She holds the banana between her hands, inspecting it carefully, then peels it. Daniel glances to her red wine. “That’s a combination even our bar wouldn’t serve.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, then, her eyes glint. Daniel gulps. That little wiggle as she leans on the counter, not breaking eye contact with him. “I’m not… eating it. Yet. I want to… practice and to see if you can give me any pointers.”

A beat. Daniel spits out some of his drink, eyes bulging out of his head at her suggestion. “ Me-me? Su-suggestion?”

Riley laughs, hair falling over her shoulder. So carefree. “Hey, you asked me for tips on how to eat out a woman, I think you can give me tips on how to blow a man better. We’re roomies, Danny.” She emphasizes roomies, as if she didn’t quite believe that’s what they were just, either. But he’s in no place to analyze this, wine drunk with the girl he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t desperately want for his own self.

“That was like, months ago.” He takes a breath, leveling his expression—and controlling his hardening dick, crossing his legs. “ But okay. Let me give you some pointers…” Not that you need them, I bet.

As expected, seeing that didn’t lessen his want, and how everything she did after that was even more sexy. Even when she spilled coffee on herself at work. She could blink and he’d want to let out a low whistle. But, blissfully, a month later—Daniel unable to stop thinking of her sucking his dick after that night—he knows exactly what her tongue feels like… and how she didn’t need any tips.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Daniel’s a neat freak, so he’s into keeping things clean and sanitary as they can be for sex, like always coming in the condom. Riley insisted that he come on her when they were in the middle of it, saying things he didn’t ever think he’d hear from her, but he politely declined—and then moved his hips in a way, combined with circling her clit, that made her forget about her request, because… damn Daniel.

Riley’s up for anything, but she’s 100% NOT into violent sex like erotic asphyxiation, choking or non-con fantasy. Sure, she’ll be rough and like a good hair pull, but she likes care, too. And Daniel’s tender touches in contrast to how hard their hips meet and join, again and again, well, it’s everything she wants in the moment.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Riley would always laugh—not that she meant to—when she heard Daniel on the nights (because it was always the night, never mid-day or anything—he was a predictable roommate) he brought somebody home. She had to give him an A for effort, at the very least. At least he had a grand finale.

Daniel’s always hesitant about giving, mostly because of the sheer mess, but he also has a desire to make somebody happy, to service them, fully. So, he tries and gets ho-hum responses, often jumping to penetration far sooner than he would like. One night, Daniel and Riley are having their weekly roommate movie night, tossing popcorn around, both giggling like schoolkids from the copious amounts of boxed wine shared between them, bag empty after a few attempts at Slap The Bag. She won.

When the giggles die down, they grow serious, watching 50 Shades of Gray. It mean, it’s just for fun to shit on it… but even if they were acting, why couldn’t he get somebody to moan like that until the very end? Daniel cracks his neck, then nudges Riley’s side. He’s pushing aside his weird feelings towards her, not wanting to cross into dangerous territory… but surely he can handle this, right? “Hey Riri…”

“Mmm?”

“Can I er, ask you a question?” Her eyebrow arches and she turns towards him, whiskey in hand now. “Anything, roomie, co-worker, the only reason for what remains of my liminal sanity.”

Daniel coughs, motioning to the TV. “So… er… stop me if this is too weird but… but how can I make—”

“Are you asking me how to please a woman?” Riley laughs, throwing her head back, lips curved into a delicious smile. Daniel blushes, shaking his head.

“N-nevermind, I—”

“Course I’ll give you some pointers, Danny Boy,” she says, setting her hand on his knee, sending sparks throughout him. Daniel locks eyes with her, blocking out the sounds of moaning from behind them. All that matters is her… and er, of course the tips. Her tongue flicks between her wine-stained lips, his eyes travelling between her eyes and lips. “ First thing… the tongue can do more than lick, you know…”

Then, when it’s her turn, she knows he’s been practicing. A lot, too. The sounds coming from his room more than confirmed it time and time again. “ Fuck,” she breaths, gripping his hair, pressing him closer to her, tongue sliding in and out of her, then gently swirling at her clit over and over—how long was it now?—Daniel has a way of edging her, a wicked smile on his lips every time he lifts his head for the briefest of seconds.

“I’ve been practicing,” he says against her, tongue sliding down her slit before diving into the best tasting pussy he’s ever had.

“Oh, I kno—” One hard press against her clit and she’s gone, collapsing back against the desk, papers flying and sticking her sweat slicked body, waves of pleasure rolling through her, Daniel holding her close, getting every last drop as she trembles, his name like a sweet song on her lips.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Daniel’s been pining after Riley for months now. Even if they’re drunk, he knows this isn’t a mistake—and he’s going to take his time with her, to treat her right. He’s comforted her through enough bad dates, hookups, and multi-date men that only left her a beautiful mess.

He’ll show her exactly how she deserves to be treated—loved, even. Does he? No, but maybe he could, one day if…. And her lips are on him again, chair squeaking. He brushes hair off her face and they lock eyes, pupils burning with desire. Gently, Daniel squeezes her side and breaks the kiss, nuzzling her neck as their hips meet.

And she gasps, falling into his embrace, his touch—god, he was treating her like a queen… like nobody had before. “Daniel,” he whispers, rolling her hips nice and slow, feeling every inch of him, pulsing around dick.

“Riley,” he says, fingers trailing, cupping her breast, then tweaking her nipple.

“This… this is…” His heart sinks. Why was it sinking though? Because what she was about say was the truth: this is nothing but a drunken hook up with roommates letting out sexual tension and living as if nothing had happened. He expects that. Not… “This is fucking nice. Just… wow.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Daniel’s honestly, truly, amazed at her skill for quickies. It happens more than once, but Daniel can’t get this one moment, one memory out of his head. It still plagues him, even though she’s been long gone.

He steps out of the shower, wiping steam off the mirror when he hears it between the break in his music. Riley. And the guy she brought back last night. Didn’t he hear him snoring, and see her in the bathroom the second before he jumped in the shower, brushing past her? And—shit—Daniel sucks in a breath. She’s close too, those sounds unmistakable.

Blissfully, the music continues and he finishes up quickly, jumps into his bedroom, and changes, all within five minutes. When he exits, pausing his phone to make sure the coast was clear, she’s leaning on the kitchen counter inspecting a cronut. Her bedroom door is ajar, guy nowhere in sight.

Daniel shakes his wet head and gets behind her, opening the fridge, trying to ignore how her ass brushes against his back. “That was uuhhh… fast.”

Riley giggles and turns, setting the cronut down and hosting herself up, sitting on the counter. “What can I say? I know what I like.” Daniel turns, OJ in hand. Fuck, she’s cute. Hair slightly messy, legs crossed, shorts high, collarbone bruised with a hickey from just another guy who— “Why do you care, anyways?” she asks, breaking him from his intrusive non-polite roommate thoughts. “Are you… jealous?”

They laugh together… but something about how her gaze lingers, capturing his completely, or how she uncrosses her legs and leans forward, the scoop of her shirt revealing a peek of her chest, sticks with him, even as he reads the tabloids about her, trying—and failing—to not be jealous. If he had it his way that morning, and all those mornings, they wouldn’t leave the room until darkness filled the land again.

Would she have stayed, then? Did she get that with the King? Or was she only getting exactly what she wanted in stolen moments? Fuck. He shuts his laptop. He needs to stop thinking about her like that. He’ll never see her again, anyways.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

You know Riley’s game for well, nearly anything. There’s a thrill in the risk. She’s done it in club bathrooms, in the living room of their apartment minutes before Daniel comes back from a shift (solo or not)… she’s up for anything and almost everything.

But, as risky as she is, there’s… one thing she’s always wanted to try, but never could work up the courage for. Something about public outdoor sex drives her wild… but none of the men seemed to think running off into the bushes of a park when they walk home is ever a good idea. Riley knows Daniel won’t be down for that—it was hard enough settling on a location to fuck in the restaurant they hated—but maybe one day she’ll get that, if a man that’s apparently not from New York is up for it. One day, maybe.

In his bedroom, whether he brings home a girl or guy of the month, he plays it safe. Always. That’s what he’s always wanted to do and how he likes sex. Safe and risk-free, comfortable in his bed and what he’s doing. He knows what’ll happen. No surprises. Simple, easy. Not complicated.

But, he thinks, kissing down her naked body, thin fingertips dancing on the skin of her sensitive inner thighs on the boss’s desk, legs opening as if on command, he’ll risk it for Riley. Wasn’t this a risk, enough? After all, he’s drunk, she’s drunk, the boss pissed him off as per usual, and he’s waited so long to see the sight before him, her wet—for him. Just for him. Not the Tom, Dick, or Harry’s she brings home: him. Daniel the Waiter.

She sucks in a little breath, locking eyes with him, hand winding into his brown hair. “Daniel,” she breathes. “You sure?”

His mouth on her clit is the only answer they both need, her gasp filling the office air.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He could have been with her all night in that office, their moans nearly echoing off the walls if the boss didn’t have so much shit hanging up. He’s wanted her for so long, he didn’t want the moment to end. Could they stay just a little longer? Oh, he wished he had. But, they didn’t. They couldn’t. No, this was a fluke. That was all. Yet, her lips linger on his when they stand at the bar front, fully clothed, faces still flush. “That really was fun, Danny. You tired?”

He grins, tucking hair behind her ear. “That was just a warm up for me, Riri.”

Riley smiles, knowingly. Oh, she knows about unassuming Daniel and how long he can go. She hears half the time, usually falling asleep—somehow—but other times, well, she has to put in her headphones and try to pretend that it’s not hot hearing how they sound between those… very… thin walls. Little does she know how he doesn’t wear his headphones for her.

So when they began to kiss, tugging at each others clothes in a desperate sort of drunkenness, Riley knows exactly what’s she’s getting herself into, even if this isn’t Danny’s room. And ooh, she can’t deny that jolt of pure thrill and desire that runs through her when he looks at her, his pupils fully expanded, ready to devour her… for however long her wants to.

And when they’re done, meeting each other in the living room the next morning, sneaking glances at each other, she can’t help but see him in a whole new light… even if, right now, she doesn’t want anything serious. But, it’s something to keep in mind, if she ever wanted to give him the chance. Because well, she’s not ruling that opportunity out. Maybe if she gives it a little bit of time….

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Riley stumbles, tripping over their shoes at the entryway to their apartment. Daniel bumps into her in the darkness and they both groan. Her, because she bumped an elbow into the wall and him because… why the fuck do they always seem to be bumping into each other so much now? It’s driving him crazy. Her skin, her ass, her… not again. “Sorry…” His dick twitches.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re my shoes anyways—” Her hand, skin pruned from washing dishes because the dishwasher bailed, slides along the wall and finally finds the light switch. And, she flicks it on, taking two steps past the shoes—until she sees Mew, the cat who she swore loved her more than her owner, freezing. “Oh fuck,” she gasps. This can’t be real. “Mew! No!”

“What—oh,” Daniel gulps, eyeing the hefty purple dildo on the floor. Realistic too, aside from the color. Oh, he had a feeling Riley had toys. She’s shut a drawer far too fast when he’d wander in her room, looking for his apron. He’s not… well, can’t say he isn’t into the idea of them, but he doesn’t have anything, at the moment. Maybe he’s a little intimidated, too, honestly. He’s started to warm up to the idea of BDSM… but besides the nervousness of partaking in it, he works a shitty ass job and can’t afford the shit he’s beginning the fantasize about.

Hell, he’d be intimated as heck, looking at the dildo that’s definitely, ah, bigger than him… and he’s got something to brag about. After what feels like hours, the two watching Mew bat the dildo back and forth between their white paws, Riley snatches it from the ground, blushing furiously, and retreats to the bathroom to wash it before putting in it her drawer. Daniel grabs two wine glasses—lord knows they need it—and the cat meows, stretching her front legs at Riley’s feet when she comes out from her bedroom, still red. “I let you sleep in my bed AND I buy you enough toys you hide under the couch. That is NOT yours. I knew I was always a dog person for a reason!”

Like the cat knows as she lectures, but Daniel can’t help but laugh as he pours the wine, both glasses full to the brim. She tosses her apron to the ground and grabs the glass, gulping it wordlessly. After her gulps, eyes crinkled from embarrassment in the corners—he knows those crinkles too well—Daniel speaks, his turn to redden. “So uh… how’d Mew get that, anyways, from under your bed or…?” They both know that’s not where she keeps them. But Riley won’t elaborate on that.

Or why it was out in the first place. No, Daniel would never know about that little secret. “It’s been a dry spell,” she answers instead, swirling the glass, liquid sloshing. Daniel perks an eyebrow high.

“Riri… it’s been like two weeks.”

“Like I said, dry spell, Danny Boy.”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

To be fair, Daniel’s crush didn’t start from her teasing him on purpose. Honest to god, she had no idea. You think she’d move in with somebody who was crushing on her? No. And, to be fair on Daniel’s part, it wasn’t his fault that after living and working with her for six months, no space between them, for developing a crush, a want for her.

It just… happened. Daniel doesn’t know if Riley knows about his feelings, but there must be a hint, right? Otherwise, why was she wiggling that ass more, sneaking glances to him—on her own—and touching him more, laughing a dropping a hand to his knee or arm when they had their roomie movie night.

To Riley, she wasn’t teasing. Well. Not at first. Then, once she realizes how he’s looking at her—she can’t help but tease and put on a little bit of a show. It’s Danny, she knows she shouldn’t be doing this to her roommate… but part of her loves the thrill. The what if of taking her time to bend over, picking up a napkin, hearing his gulp and quiet shuffle from behind her. Or catching his eye, smiling at him, and swinging her hips with a little extra vigor.

Why is she doing this? She ponders one time, stuffing pens in her apron. Because, Riley, you want to test the waters and have him to make the first move. The wayward thought startles her… and she drops the pens—again. Daniel coughs from behind her, hand brushing against her ass as he passes, smirks on both of their faces.

Of course, while she nearly tortured him with those light teases… he turns the table the 2nd time, when she’s back visiting during the cursed Engagement Tour.

The things he fucking did with that tie, his hands, his tongue…. Her Danny Boy learned a few new tricks, didn’t he?

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It’s always the girl or guy on the other side of the wall making the sounds when Daniel brings somebody home. So, when they start hooking up in that office, she’s soaking with the anticipation of knowing what he sounds like when he’s fucking her. He doesn’t disappoint. On all fronts, but did she really think he would, with how he looks at her when he thinks she isn’t looking?

His breaths, his moans, the grunts when he thrusts up into her, bringing her hips down, the two locking eyes. Fuck, it’s hot hearing him for the first time.

Riley’s… loud. Daniel knew that from their 2nd week living together. He wasn’t going to say anything about how that guy—wasn’t his name Damien? She called him D over and over… all night— made her yell and come again and again. He knew she tried to muffle her sounds, they both knew the walls seemed thin when they moved in.

The morning after, Daniel just getting a glance at the guy as he left, smacking her ass with a wink, he says nothing, just pouring a cup of coffee for himself. He avoids her eyes, and she his. It’s not like they didn’t know each other before… but this was a whole new level of knowledge. The air’s heavy, just filled with the whining from Mew, complaining about the very full food bowl, until Riley breaks the silence, curling hair around her finger.

“Umm… Danny… you didn’t…?”

“The walls are thin, Riley.” She looks downcast and he swallows the bitter coffee. “But… we knew that moving in. It’s… it’s okay. I have headphones.” But he’ll never use them. “So… yeah. Cute guy, by the way.”

A smile breaks along her face, a bashful one, but one all the same. “I… I couldn’t help it. The way he told me to get on my knees… you would’ve sounded the same.”

Daniel laughs, glad the tension is gone. Little did he—they—know what it would soon be replaced with, months later. “You’ll never hear me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yes!” And the office is filled with their sounds, their shouts, their whispers, holding each other close as they fuck, Daniel telling her to come for him again and again as he keeps going. At some point though, when they drive fast against each other, arms around each other, Riley’s lips on his, tugging and urging for his release, they grow quiet—serious—as the pace slows down and she takes her time lifting off of him, and then sliding back down, sweat lining their faces—eyes locked, taking in big breaths.

Her lips ghost across his and they inhale each others scent, the only sounds in the room are their quiet breathing and her dripping pussy being slammed by him. “Mm,” she whispers, nipping his ear. “You’re quiet now.”

Daniel sucks in a breath, nails digging into her thighs he starts to tremble, orgasm close. No, he wants to hold out—just a little longer for her, for this moment—and he nods. “You’re quiet too, Riri. You like to be loud.”

“I’m only quiet when it’s serious,” she confesses—and he comes, her name on his lips, cut off with her kiss.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice).

It’s a normal night, slow, mainly. A few regulars. Nothing wild. A few girls admire his tattoos, and he shrugs, wiping down and waiting tables. Anything to keep his mind off of… her. He’s followed the Cordonian social scene, the Engagement Tour… he knows where she’s at. He really needs to stop thinking of her, seriously.

The door swings open. Daniel nearly drops the order when she walks in with some… hipster looking guy. Not normally her type. Did you really ever know her type? Though, he looks familiar. But when he takes off the sunglasses, he knows. One of the men from the night that stole her away from the city without a second look. Not the king, however. Riley and Daniel lock eyes, she bites her lip, eyes darting over his tattoos. He knew it was a good idea.

Their boss is shocked, still somehow angry to see her, and the guy, oh the guy has an arm around her shoulders and Daniel can do nothing but look her way, hoping he could burn a hole through her, to get her attention. And it works, their gazes soft… and lingering. She shifts under the guy as they sip whiskey and he, finally, approaches as they finish up.

“Riri,” he says, grinning. The guy glances suspiciously between Riley and Daniel, frowning in the slightest. Riley blushes.

“You know more than one person is allowed to have a nickname for me, Drake.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He says, gruff, eyeing Daniel. Riley licks her lips, eyebrows high when the boss leaves—finally. The bar in nearly empty, just the three of them. Daniel’s thankful for the apron over his dick because shit—she looks damn good. Cordonia suits her. This… this life suits her. One without him. But that’s okay.

“Soo… did assface ever replace that chair?” she asks, and Daniel almost loses it. She’s asking about that in front of this guy, who’s clearly head over heels in love with her. How true were the rumors….

But Daniel composes himself, their eyes locked, back into that familiar dance when they were roommates. “Yeah, he did. You should check it out. Seriously, it has to be worth more than this shithole.” It’s a gamble… but oh, she places a hand on Drake’s chest as he stifles a yawn.

“I wanna check out the chair and get caught up with Daniel. You should head back to the hotel and get some sleep. I’ll… see you in the morning?” They kiss, Daniel wiping down another table, lips refusing to leave each other… until Riley pulls away, Drake sighing… but leaving. Daniel flips the sign to closed and shuts off the main lights. Riley leans on the edge of a table, smirking. “Nice tattoos. You’ve changed, Danny Boy.”

He drops the towel, and closes the distance between them, lips on hers—both hungry for each other. They barely make it to the office, Daniel setting her on the desk, before she’s pulling off her dress and his pupils expand. “Wait,” he says, voice low and commanding. She stops, letting the dress fall back down. Slowly, oh so slowly, he takes off his tie… and then motions for her to come to him.

Breathless, Riley listens, a thrill running through her. It’s been a long time since thinking of Daniel gave her that thrill and now…. Tie between his teeth, he turns her and unzips her dress, then slides it off her, relieved to find no bra… or panties. Daniel coughs, taking the tie and brushing it against her body. She shudders. “No underwear… my, my Riri… you’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, Lady Riley?”

He takes her wrists behind her and ties the tie loosely around them, gently bending her over the desk, grins on both of their faces. Fuck, he can see how goddamn wet she is. For him, again. For Daniel The Waiter. “If you believe the tabloids,” he breathes. Daniel’s hands ghost along the curve of her ass.

“Well… I guess rumors must be true then, if you’re here right now.”

Riley moans when he slips two fingers into her folds, and shit, she’s dripping. Daniel can’t believe it, really. Not only was she here, leaving bruising kisses on his lips, but she was moaning his name—never mind if she had a guy with her but twenty minutes before. “So who’s that hipster guy to you?” He inserts a third finger and she curses, legs shaking.

“Uh… uh… why…”

“I didn’t like the way he was—” And Daniel smacks her ass and she cries out, coming on his fingers. That was easy. “Looking at your—” Another smack as she comes, face flush as she still pumps. “ass like that.”

“Jesus,” is all she can manage when he pulls her up, tugging her hair—still in that braided crown, just like how he left her. She didn’t leave you, you idiot—there was nothing to leave. “You’ve upped your game.”

Daniel smirks. Oh, he wishes she could see his collection now. But, alas, he’d take this night and her tied up, kneeling before him, taking him all in—stopping before he came. In daze, both naked, tasting each other on their lips, Daniel guides her to new chair, untying her wrists only to retie her. She parts her legs, without command, and he swears he’s transported back to that fucking night, one he hasn’t forgotten, even if, really, he’s moved on. He swears.

But she’s here, and he’s going to fuck her till she screams and forgets about that King and… and anybody else they gossip about her with. He knows she’s not any of those things, no it’s Riri, but fuck right now—he’ll call her a bad girl till she screams his name, over and over, entering her—pushing her over the edge, pussy simply pulsing around his dick, over and over and—

With a final grunt, Daniel comes—in the condom, of course—her legs wrapped around him, chair pressed against the wall. “Danny…” she breathes, forehead on his shoulder. “That was…” He chuckles, pulling out. Oh, she’s beautiful and flushed and tied up before him, eyes in a daze, a content, sleepy smile on her lips—pussy glistening, coming…. How many times did she? He wasn’t keeping track. Running a finger along her jaw, Daniel leans in, licking her earlobe. She shudders.

“So… could the King top that?”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Daniel's got the best kept secret in Manhattan... his package. 7 ½ inches (and then some) and thick. There was a lot fucking reason why Riley was surprised when she first saw it—it was her Danny Boy of all people, she didn’t… usually… imagine him with a dick like that. But oh, Daniel’s in damn heaven when she takes all of him in her mouth, that minty tingle setting every inch of it on fire, again.

“Why didn't I ever ride this before?” she says, gripping his hair and shoulder—she’s never been this fucking full before, holy shit.

Daniel smirks, bringing her hips down harder and she gasps. “Because the cat’s in my spot.” God, he loves how her tits bounce, bruised with his lovebites, nipples stiff.

Riley laughs, despite being ready collapse with another orgasm. “That’s very clearly Mew’s spot, Danny B-Boy—shit— Damn, Daniel!” And Riley moans louder than she ever has, but that doesn’t stop their motions, Riley riding him through the orgasm—because she knows he has more time to go—not that she’s complaining.

When she comes down from her high, chair and Daniel’s legs soaked, she speaks again through grunts and gasps. “It’s no wonder why the girls screamed even though your tongue game was weak,” she teases, circling her hips, but slows when Daniel blushes beet red. “Oo,” she whispers, resting her forehead against his, looking into his sweet, kind, lust filled eyes. “Danny—Daniel, I’m just teasing. This… you… you’re the best dick I’ve ever had. Not… not even a King could top this.”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Riley’s damn high. She’s in New York City—there’s some of the hottest men around. Why wouldn’t she always be ready to go… oh yeah, work. That’s why. That’s why she has her toys, hidden in that drawer for when she needs a little release. The way Daniel kept looking at her at work one night… just… it didn’t take long to come and for her to stare at the ceiling, blinking, wondering why the idea of Daniel got her off like that. Nope. Never, she thinks. He’s my Danny Boy… nothing more. Just Daniel The Waiter.

So, the next night she goes out with Kai to forget about those feelings. And Damien’s there, whispering that some foreign Prince is supposed to be visiting in a few days. Kai wiggles her eyebrows, nudging Riley. “Think you can bag a Prince, bish?”

“Ha, a Prince?” She rolls her eyes. “ You know he’s some stiff uptight guy who couldn’t handle me for a second in bed.” Damien smirks, looking between the two.

“Oh come on,” says Kai, bumping her hip. “You know those kinds of guys are seriously repressed. Bet he’s kinky as fuck…” But she’s not thinking of this mystery prince. She’s wondering about Daniel behind his bedroom wall. Those kinds of guys, huh?

Daniel’s sex drive isn’t anything, like, mad crazy. Nothing like Riley’s. Average, he’d say. He doesn’t want to give her the wrong impression. Of course, once he realized that he found her sexy as all hell and liked her, you know, like that… well, he had some more itches to scratch, whether in the shower or with another person who decidedly isn’t Riley, but it works.

Until she moves her hips just like that, like she knows he’s watching her from the bar, and it’s back to square one.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

So, after that after dinner mint… surprise, they walk home, brushing but not holding hands. Besides… what were they in the end? Roommates. Still, just roommates. They talk, like normal, the light on the subway falling so perfectly on her slightly pink face that Daniel doesn’t know if he should kiss her, hug, or take her right then and there. However, he just lets her get off the stop first.

Then, before he knows it, they’re in their apartment, both kinda just standing there, hands in pockets. Finally, he clears his throat. “ You know… even if we didn’t uh, do it, in a bed… I’d still like to, you know….”

“Oh!” Riley says, eyes wide. Cuddling. He wants to cuddle. Shit. She doesn’t care for cuddling, human cuddles at least, much. And this would… ah, what line would this cross, if fucking already didn’t? “Well, we worked the double today… and we work it tomorrow so like… maybe we should try to get some good sleep, you know?”

Daniel tries to hide his disappointment. Now that they’re sobering up… why did he let himself think it was something more than it was? A hook-up. That’s it. But… why was she looking at him like that, now? “I mean, Danny,” she says, touching his arm. “You know you don’t mess with Mew unless you want a claw in your ass. Remember when he did that to the one guy?”

Daniel chuckles. “You do know that Mew is mine, remember?”

“But she loves me more, which is why she sleeps in my bed! And she’s a great cuddler, like you won’t even believe.”

Daniel’s still just tipsy enough to have a hint of liquid courage pulsing through him. Okay, one last attempt. “But… you can scoot over and then you can get cuddles from both—”

“Nope. Her side.” Riley moves towards her room, Mew following. Daniel’s cock twitches as she pulls off her shirt, tossing it on the floor. “You’ll just make her mad.” Then follows the sound her jeans sliding off and cute pajama shorts and blank tank top on. Daniel gulps.

“She’s my cat though—”

“Her spot.” Daniel sighs, loosening his collar. Well, he tried and—she pops her head out the doorframe, grinning. He freezes, a foot away from her, thinking of how she said his name, head thrown back, coming over and in his mouth.

“How about I take you to a real bar this weekend and get you a drink, to make up for losing your spot out to a cat?”

He perks up, eyes sparkling. They both think it: like a date? But neither will say it, letting the unspoken tension and words float between them in a delicate dance that was bound to end soon.

Of course, they never have that maybe date.

Because, the next night, she comes home late, giggling about something, wearing the green dress he liked on her so much but never told her how good she looked in it. He goes to sleep, just a bit uneasy. He’s a little jealous, he thinks, knowing that she was out with those men. But hey, tomorrow’s Saturday and that’s when she’ll get him a drink and he… he can tell her that the sex wasn’t just a hook-up. It wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

But no. Instead, the next morning, she’s grumbling about going to coffee with Kai, her bangs braided so perfectly on her crown. She’s like a princess, even with bags under her eyes. “So why are you upset about coffee with Kai? Isn’t she like your best friend?”

“You’re my best friend, Danny,” she says, grinning. Daniel returns the smile, heart sinking lower and lower. Oh, no. “But, really, I wanna tell her about the fact that I hung out with a fucking Prince last night after work, and she’s going to grumble all about how Nadia and Damien are acting weird around each other. Ugh.” Daniel arches an eyebrow, sipping his coffee.

“Nadia and Damien…?”

She nods. “It’s like this stupid forbidden romance shit. What a cliché. Just say how you feel, you know?” Daniels’ mouth opens, but she’s out the door. He sighs. Just a few more hours and then… none of that bullshit. Just him and Riley. Open, honest, and—

“You have a cat?!” Minutes later, Riley’s bursting through the door with one of the guys from the bar, who runs for Mew. Mew hisses.

“Uh…”

And Daniel’s heart stops when she starts packing, the man chattering all about Cordonia for ten minutes, Riley packing as fast as she could, laughing and asking excited questions. Fuck. That place. The social season was starting and… “You’re leaving?!” He shouts, then lowers his eyes. “I mean… Riri… the lease…”

“I’ll transfer the money to you, Danny. I…” She steps close to him, bags packed. So fast. So… without care. Like she had nothing holding her back. The man, Maxwell, as Daniel discovers, clears his throat and takes two of her bags, exiting the apartment fifteen minutes after he sauntered in and turned his upside down. Riley exhales, looking into his eyes, touching his soft cheek. He’s not crying, but his vision is blurry.

“Riley…”

“Danny… there’s nothing here for me, you know that. We’ve talked about it, how’d we get out if a chance… a chance like this came up. Something so crazy that we’d have to drop everything and run, right? Remember?”

So, I’m nothing then? He means to say, but instead, he pulls her close, smelling her hair. Riley returns the embrace and then kisses him, soft and sweet, blinking back her own tears. “I’ll miss you, Riri.”

“I’ll see you again, Danny Boy.”

And like that, the door shuts. She’s gone, forever. That much he knows. “Yeah, sure,” he says to the empty apartment, Mew curled up on her bed—her empty bed—asleep.

Disclaimer: Pixelberry Studios owns the rights to these characters. #Where’sDaniel

Oh, if you’ve finished this in one sitting, take a damn shot.

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