#“i get so high when you're with me but crash and crave you when you leave”

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

you love is my drug..... is a griffguts song

[tottentz]

KISS ME FROM THE RUSH .ᐟ ── honkai star rail ?! ❛ i can't get enough ❜ 🗝 ﹢を ˒ㅤ ft. aventurine, blade, dr. ratio, argenti, sunday, jing yuan.

ֶָ֢⊹𐙚 WARNINGS ! mdni. reader has no pronouns but has afab anatomy, soft dom ! character & inexperienced ! reader, dry humping / aventurine, praising, pet names, fingering / boothill + jing yuan, oral ( receiving ) / blade, blowjob + cum swallowing / dr. ratio, implied multiple orgasm + overstimulation, dacriphilia, lil of corruption kink ( if you squint ). ♡ˎˊ˗

mature content ahead ! + please take care of yourself before proceeding.

aventurine .ᐟ

slender fingertips dig into the excess squish of your hips, prompting you to wriggle your waist and forcibly slot your pelvis where aventurine ushers you atop his lap, bunching your skirt in his fidgety palms as you delectably initiate a merciless roll of your hips that had his cock straining against the crotch of his jeans and his own hips eagerly bucking upwards.

he devours you in his embrace, and presses a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth before swallowing every mewl-like cry that parts your lips.

the lengthening drag led your clit to the silver buckle of his belt; pulpous bud sinking against the metal and flattening whenever aventurine thrusted his hips and temporarily pinned the bundle, catching the sensory mound before it dislodged and continued its previous rut.

you hissed through your teeth, breaking away from his lips to speckle rosy contortions into his skin. aventurine impatiently rocks his hips as if a mutt graveling in his heat, stiffening cock occasionally bumping your clit before the imprint would card through your soiled unde, gliding trough the dampened fabric with a friction that could kindle fire.

"that's it, baby," he coos, "almost there..."

he sounds breathless as he speaks, body shuddering when you placed a hot palm to his nape, grounding yourself and forcing coarse friction where you straddled him, desperate to clash against his pants as if you'd soon wear the denim to nothing and leave him bare.

"see...now isn't that nice?" he breathlessly laughs, "you're doing so well..., does it feel good?"

his hips erratically jerk, and the breathless pants from his mouth divulged his own craving, lips blowing against your collar before biting his presence into your skin. he's just as far off as you. ruby red and temple coated with sweat, aventurine is flushed and trembling under your hold. 

all he gets as a response is a pathetic whine, making him grin, "of course it does, sweetheart..." he so desperately wants to ravish what sensible though remained of your dizzying head; fuck you until you couldn't discern the hour of the day, but he refrained. not yet.

"that's it, sweetheart, that's it, cum for me. c'mon give it to me, show me how you pretty you are, yeah?." 

and you do, you gasp and squeal when the high finally crashes over you. he slows his thrusts, barely letting you go before carefully pressing back in, working you diligently through the high s you tremble and cream all over his pants like the sweet thing you are. 

blade .ᐟ

to his surprise, you don't yelp or squeak or become flustered when he occupied himself between your legs, only biting your lip as wild pulsations rendered your brain to mush and melted your forefront conscious into a haze of silver lining.

 matching the complex twist of the interstate, your abdomen began to tie its knot of arousal and nervousness, your posture tensing into a deep arch that forced your head against the leather seat and a whimper to fall from your glossed lips, and before you could cover your face with your hands, blade quickly hold your wrists down again.

"don't." his voice is mereley above a whisper as erratic shivers shook your withering figure against the bed.

 "you okay?" you choke intead a series of strangled moans following his order.

"i'm okay." he muses on that notion for a time, flicking his thumbs over your throbbing clit, the strokes stimulating the hardened bud that felt as if would burst in due time. nimbly dragging the anxious tips of your fingers between your legs. "it feels good?." 

you sniffle and nod, "really good..."

he hums and leans down, kissing your clit for one fleeting second before his hands are on your knees, keeping them pinned to your chest while he sat between your thighs as he licks at you, tentatively until he hears you quietly moan. then he's lapping, eager, pressing his face firmer against your cunt. 

the pressure was unfamiliar but it wasn't bad. in fact it felt really good, all the while your taste fills his mouth, floods his tongue, and he knows without a doubt that he would try this over again.

"blade-!" you gasp, reaching down to tangle your hands in his hair, effectively messing it up.

his cock is painfully hard in his pants but he can't bring himself to care -- not when he's got your spread like this, working your towards your high with every touch he gives you.

and when you finally cum, it's with a harsh tug of his hair. drawing his name from your lips, you arched further into the sheets as the last of your orgasm shook your weak limbs. his name carried significance. the tenor more than just a lovely echo of your rapture. 

he hums, opening his pretty eyes to look at you. when he pulls away, theres a string a spit connected to his lips before he smiles, letting you close your thighs and curl up. the sight of you breathless and teary eyed from the intense orgasm makes him want to go for seconds.

dr. ratio .ᐟ

"what do you want?" veritas asks. he shifts a bit, the mattress creaking again. a hand lands in your hair. it doesn't pull or tangle. gentle. too gentle. he never pulls when asked; for now, you slowly relaxe into this.

"it would be good if you hurry up, too,"you remained at attention. readily awaiting as if a devoted minion who had yet to receive orders.

"impatient."veritas hums, his touch unhurried. he takes his time more than he takes. you have never known what to do with it. you still don't, now, with goosebumps on your skin.

"and you're awfully slow," you say. "i just wanna make you feel good, you know."

there's a low, thoughtful hum. veritas is always thinking. you never know what he's thinking about, but veritas Ratio is a beautiful frowner, anyways.

"very well" a sigh. tiredness, fondness. you are too dizzy on pleassure to tell "open," veritas directs, lightly touching beneath your chin. his hands are warm. he touches with purpose. efficiency, but no lack of gentleness. he touches you like a craftsman touches his work. you open your mouth.

you impishly swiped your tongue past your lips before bringing your parted mounds to the base of his dick. puckishly dragging your tongue against his pulsating sex, you followed the protruding vessels of blue, soon hallowing your cheeks as to sink your head towards his pelvis. 

it earns him a soft hiss. veritas is never loud, but he's always honest. you rub your tongue along the underside, tracing the crown, flicking the slit. 

a whispered curse word. veritas' hips press up a little, his hand settles on your head, there is too much saliva in your mouth, you don't know how to do it, and so you let it make a mess instead. 

veritas curses again, his hand stays in place, though he's not trying to hold you in place. he makes a few shallow thrusts, cock sliding deeper, rubbing the back of your throat until you gag on your own spit, and then veritas eases you off to come up for air.

"good," veritas tells you, low and rough at your water-welled tear ducts glossed your eyes in crystalline solution. veritas is gentle even in this.

he warns you that he's close, and you moan like encouragement. his pace gentles. you are allowed to control the pace again, to pull off if you want to, but you stay.

veritas' thighs tense on either side of you, his breathings hallow and unsteady. he's always been beautiful in pleasure. all of him. veritas comes in waves on your tongue a moment later.  

"pretty." veritas says contemplatively, careful not to waste a drop, so when his hand falls from your hair to your spit-slick chin, examining you, he can whip the mess from your chin with his knuckles. ever kind, ever considerate. 

boothill .ᐟ

"stop staring" a moan rises in the back of your throat, and he thinks you look beatiful, how you shie away, hiding your mouth behind the palm of your hand when your moans begin to get loud, closing your eyes in ecstasy, letting the unintelligible noises melt away as boothill's hand slips inside your underwear.

"'m'enjoying the view." he runs the other hand down from your face to your chest, it dances on your body, caresses the curve of your neck, the valley of your breasts, rolling the sensitive bud beneath his fingertips, mindful to place bruising kisses along your neck where deep shapes of his ministrations would be left for you to cover.

his lips latche onto the skin of your shoulder, and he worked his away along the base until kissing the incision of flesh that dimpled behind your ear. 

“look at ya,” perceptible to his observant gaze, your shoulders trembled enthusiastically, accompanying the quiver of your knees that were soon to clamp around his hand. “fudge, you're gon' be the death 'o me, darl.” he cooes against your heated skin, noting the way your hold on him tightened.

his fingers press inside, and the both of you groan together. his digits are slender, dangerous maybe, and he eases them in so slowly it makes you whine. your hips buck up against his hand, back arching, and he chuckles, a cold hand pressing down on your navel to keep your steady.

"there ya go. not so desperate after all, hm?" the sensation so riveting that you are tender into his arms as he fucks you, somehow both gentle and rough. 

his fingers are sharp but slow, calculated to hit against your sweet spot with every thrust. he's filling the silence with gentle hums, encouraging you as you wither away, gasping and panting and begging.

"too good f'me," he whispers, crowding himself against your chest so you feel the cold metal of his own pressed up againts your skin, all over you. "aren'tcha?" there's a retort on the tip of your tongue, but the moment you open your mouth to speak, his hand  squeeze your cheeks together "aren'tcha?"

you're nodding before you know it.

"i am," you whimper, hands bracing yourself up. your arms are quivering from the endless sensation of his big hand on you, slicking up and down and up and down slowly. he is bringing you to your climax with every soft kiss he press into your shoulder. "i'm good for you."

and you can't help the words that spill out of your mouth as you cum hard around his fingers, that twinge into the air between you. you shuddered and almost screamed through your last orgasm, a slow rolling thing after the two ecstasies preceded it. 

unfamiliar with actions that caused your pretty little lips to squeal, boothill was sure to conduct each one, refusing to yield his practice until you had been blinded by sheer white, breathless and convulsing in his arms.

argenti .ᐟ

you hook your arms around argenti's neck before bringing him down for another kiss—one with more fervor, more intensity than you would otherwise offer. he doesn't reciprocate for a moment, seemingly astonished with your sudden vigor. but in time, he melts against your lips until one after the other.

such as now, his heavy body draped over yours, hips flush against you with his thick cock buried inside you.

"shh," he coos, fingers laced between yours as you sob and wail into the bed, feet mindlessly kicking as you cum around his stationary cock. he presses his lips against your shoulder, "how do you feel?" he teases you as you sniffle and tearfully look at him over your shoulder.

"s'good," you whisper and he smiles so sweetly at you that it makes your heart flutter.

he chuckles again, soft and reassuring as he lifts your thighs with strong hands, bracketing them again across his hips. 

"i know it does," he responds, carefully rutting his hips against you, stirring his cock within your walls, "you came so quickly."

"'again-!" you cut off to moan when he suddenly pulls back, "wanna  cum again"

"again" he considers, and you jolt when he pins your hips in place with one hand while seizing your wrist with the other. his look immediately morphs into something more captivatin, chuckling, "i'll make you cum again,"

but contrary to your expectations, argenti doesn't start fucking you into the mattress like a wild animal. instead, he hoists your hips even higher, holding your body at an odd angle. you're about to ask what he's trying to do, but when he plunges his cock back into your weeping hole, the words evaporate on your tongue.

"you are so beutiful," he assures. his sudden, unrelenting pace continues from then on out. argenti grips your thighs hard, but not enough to leave bruises. 

his discretion makes your heart flutter, but you can't quite bask in the sentiment given that his cock is hitting all the spots that make stars dance in the seams of your vision.

deep. he's so impossibly deep that you fear it'll take you days to sweat him out. a trail of saliva dribbles on your chin as argenti slowly guides you to the apex of an orgasm.his name sounds like an incantation on your lips, and you wonder if the aeons would let you have this man forever.

"argenti!" you squealed, gasping as you reached down to grab his wrist, "oh! wait, 'm gonna-!"

"it's alright," he assures, voice just as soft and even as ever, "just let it happen. want you to feel good for me."

your eyes roll back in your head and you gasp, al the while he whispered praises as you trembling and gushed, soaking his hand and cock. but he didn't mind, he just enjoyed the sight of you feeling good all because of him.

sunday .ᐟ

mass against his own. his chest is keenly pressed into your breasts, pinning you to the mattress with an intimidating vigor and a punishing snap of his hips. 

your ankles knock together behind his nape, and your knees crudely tense by your ears. a palm is cleaved at your waist, nails shoveling into the fat of your hips as the other hooks the bend of your knee into a firm mating press.

 your fingertips fiercely claw at his shoulders, scrambling for a pillar to keep your conscious ground and aware, but you can count the stars behind your glossy lids, another flitter of light flickering into the dark as the male slotted between your legs commences another tunneling of your tiny cunnie.

"'s too much—" tears descend the swell of your heated cheeks, droplets streaking your skin and smearing the mascara you previously applied to your fluttering lashes, brows tense and crinkled as your eyes lulled towards the back of your head and exposed the reddened white of your dazed optics.

"is that so?" a hum colored his tone, mocking and high, "i just want to be selfish and feel you cum around me. that's okay, isn't it?"

he lets your head fall to the bed again as he pauses the pounding of his hips to reach for your face, grabbing the fat of your flushed cheeks before he presss his thumb on your bottom lip.

you're embarrassingly compliant, parting your lips at the same time—tongue swirling around his skin as you cover them in a sheen of saliva. sunday doesn't say a word, but there's an uncharacteristic glint in his eyes that you never would've associated with him earlier.

"but do look pretty like this." his strong hand lets go of your face, instead moving to gently move your hair from your face where it's stuck to the mix of saliva and tears- the juxtaposition reminds you again of how much he actually cared."you know i always want to make you feel good."

a tap to your temple brings you out of your stupor- you're mindless, you're a mess, it's humiliating, but he smiles down at you. "you can give me one more, hm?"

you whimper; mewl as if language were unknown to you. all you can do is cry, sob, as his splits your little pussy in half. your name echoes from his kiss swollen lips as his fucks you harder into the mattress. his brain is in shambles; cluttered and screwed as if he had lost reasoning, but he was aware of himself; aware of his present endeavor-

he won't stop until you are sobbing his name, eagerly arching your tremoring pelvis into his own because he had begun to relentlessly hammer a delicate plot that induced your vision to flicker and blurrily haze with spangled glimmers of hot electricity.

jing yuan .ᐟ

there's just something so sweet about your voice when you are desperate. when you are laying in front of you, legs trashing as jing yuan watches, a small smile on his face as you try, try so hard to angle his fingers just right.

"can't," you whimper, free hand reaching out for him. but he leans back, smiling in faux sympathy. 

the nimble pads of his fingertips pried apart your slicken folds to clamp at the inflated bud between your legs, amber optics indifferent to your puppy-dog pout and repetitive mantra of plea as he forcibly held your thigh apart, eyes flittering the expanse of your skin when you pitifully cried and spoke incoherent requests he blatantly neglected to acknowledge.   

he hums softly, shifting closer to you and hoisting you up by your armpits, he settles you in his lap. "better?" he murmurs against your skin, taking the vibrator in your hands and pressing it up against her drooling cunt, buzzing along her clit. she chokes out a small, yes, before burying her face in your shoulder.

"feels good, doesn't it?," he whispers. "tell me."

he can feel you tensing every time he pushes his calloused fingers just a little deeper, the way your toes curl and your ankles dig into his back. he knows you feel good. he just wanna hear it. "'s good," you whimper. "good!— feels really good."

"gonna cum?" he cradles your face with his free hand, dipping his head down to press a small kiss to your lips, swallowing your breaths. "gonna cum for me, yeah?"

you nod. your brain's melted into pretty pink goo, oozing out of your ears with every second his fingers keep fucking into you. he pushes you, keeps pushing you into ecstasy, until your unravelling on his fingers. "oh," he coos. "so pretty, look at you."

you don't know when you start cumming. you don't know when you stop. he doesn't stop though, never stops. he keeps fucking into you, the sensation so riveting you don't even feel your third orgasm until it materialises in your trembling legs.

jing yuan hushes you. "just let me, dear," he makes quick work of your clit, having you gasping his name "so good f'me, yeah? cum, come on. i know you got it in you."

you stifle your cries into his shoulder, and he smiles softly. it's times like these where he looks at you with hearts in his eyes, when he brushes the soft hair and tuck it behind your ear in a move of adoration. it's times like these when he thinks that you are so good, so sweet, you'd do anything he say, right?

. ࣪✦ ៸៸ tottentz ▐ © 2024 ､ ? 𓄹 ܵ ۪

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve just wanted to cure his loneliness and Eddie might have the right remedy for him after all.

Steve knew he shouldn't use drugs to numb his loneliness. Good omegas weren't supposed to do that.

Then again, good omegas wouldn't be left alone in a big empty house by their parents.

So there was no reason why he shouldn't sit at the infamous picnic table and wait for the town's drug dealer.

Somehow, he had underestimated Eddie Munson's bargaining skill greatly. After fifteen minutes of negotiation, he had ended up letting the alpha eat him out as an exchange for drugs.

And goddamn did Eddie Munson have a way with his mouth.

That was why Steve had ignored his parents' lessons about being a respectable omega and allowed Eddie to taste his virgin pussy every time he sought the alpha out.

It escalated when Eddie asked to finger him one day. Steve had been reluctant at first, because ew who knew what those hands had touched.

But he conceded eventually since Eddie was the only dealer in town (that he trusted).

Turned out, the combination of Eddie's tongue and fingers could make Steve squirt.

To think he used to live a life where he wasn't given such mind-blowing orgasms before was unbelievable. Because he knew he couldn't return to those dull days where he only had his dildos anymore.

Since the first time Steve gushed on Eddie's bed, he started going to the alpha's place more often.

And gradually, instead of slipping him those baggies, Eddie began slipping more fingers inside him.

"Are you insane?" Steve whined as the alpha's thumb nudged at his entrance.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart," Eddie lapped at his cocklet to get him relaxed. "It's gonna feel good when I'm inside you."

Steve bit back his moan as he writhed beneath the alpha's firm hands.

He always got worked up with how casual Eddie talked about fucking him. Like those fingers were somehow a substitute for the alpha's cock.

It did weird things to Steve's poor horny brain and he had to stop himself from begging for the alpha's knot every time they met.

He knew Eddie would fuck him good, but he had to keep his virginity intact.

All of his thoughts evaporated when Eddie's entire hand finally slid inside him.

"Oh my god," Steve gasped and arched his back. His body shook minutely while his cunt leaked a puddle on the sheet beneath.

It was too much, having an entire hand inside him. He was stretched to the seams, breathless and lightheaded in a way that no drugs had ever made him feel before.

"Good?" Eddie twisted his fist slowly, dark eyes tracing Steve's face like a hawk's.

"I–" He inhaled sharply when Eddie grazed his sweet spot. "I wouldn't s– say that."

"Better than your dildos?" Eddie chuckled at Steve's teary glare. "It's pretty obvious to me, Princess."

"What obvious?" Steve couldn't help but bite the bait. Knowing Eddie, it must be something ridiculous again.

Instead of answering, the alpha scratched lightly at that spot on his inner wall, making him mewl and tremble in pleasure.

But the friction wasn't enough for him to come. It was frustrating.

Eddie continued tormenting him like that until he was loose enough for the fist to move faster.

Even in his wildest dream, Steve would never expect to be fucked by someone's hand.

But there he was, drooling and shaking as Eddie fisted his pussy.

It was when Steve was cross-eyed and on the edge of crashing that Eddie finally leaned over and whispered into his ear.

"You're such a slut, baby.”

And Steve was done for.

He rolled his eyes back and let out a high-pitched moan as he spasmed and gushed messily on the already stained sheet.

His cocklet joined in and squirted, coating his belly with watery opalescent fluid.

"That's it, Babydoll," Eddie nipped the tip of his ear, sounding just as wrecked as he felt. "Be a good girl and come for your alpha's knot."

Steve whined at that.

He had been craving for the alpha's cock since they started messing around. But he had to preserve his purity for his future mate.

And it wasn't like Eddie would want to be involved with him outside of their make-shift game anyway.

Steve was aware of the hard truth: he was good to play with, but never good enough to be kept around.

Those people who had left him made it clear how unlovable he was.

He whimpered when Eddie pulled out carefully and glanced away shyly when the alpha placed a soft kiss on his hipbone.

Steve never questioned that gesture. Never asked aloud why Eddie would always do it every time they finished.

Because he feared Eddie would stop doing so if he pried too much.

It didn't matter what Steve wanted to know, he just kept his mouth shut and tried to ignore his flustering heart, tried to swallow all those chirps and trills that always threatened to slip out of him.

But Steve found it hard to maintain his cool when every time without fail, a hand would come up to stroke the side of his face gently.

"Look at me, Sweetheart."

Right, Eddie had a habit of checking in once the alpha was done liquifying Steve's brain with those deft fingers and that clever tongue.

Eddie would insist on helping clean him up and then wrapping him in a soft quilt that smelled of sunlight and apples.

Steve would be given a mug of warm milk and allowed to hang around until he decided to go home.

Much to his embarrassment, he had cried the first time Eddie took care of him.

Although he had gotten better at accepting the alpha's gratuitous kindness these days, he wasn't exactly immune to it.

When Steve complied, he was met with warm brown eyes that always gazed at him with things he wasn't allowed to hope for. Warmth, kindness, and adoration.

He suddenly didn't want this to end.

So he wasn't one to be blamed for what he blurted out, "Do you want to fuck me?"

Eddie only gave him an amused look, "I thought that ship had sailed a long time ago when I asked to eat you out, Bambi."

Steve blushed at that. Yeah, he realized how stupid his question was. But still, he had to make sure.

"My heat will arrive next week," he licked his lips nervously. "So do you wanna–"

Before he could finish, Eddie was on him and crowded him against the headboard.

"You said your little virgin pussy is exclusive to your future mate," the alpha narrowed his eyes at him, wild and dangerous. "What changed your heart?"

"You," Steve hissed. "It's you, Munson. I want you to be my alpha."

Eddie grasped his jaw and murmured hoarsely. "Say that again."

"I want you to be my alpha," Steve bit out.

"Again."

"I want you to be my alpha."

"Again."

"I want you to be my alpha."

"Again."

"I love you!" Steve shouted at that stupidly handsome face. "Fuck you, Munson!"

"Attagirl," Eddie finally smiled at him, pleased and smug before capturing him in a fervent kiss.

When they parted, the alpha pulled Steve into his lap and peppered him with small kisses.

"Love you too, sweet baby," Eddie pecked at the tip of his nose. "Been crazy about you for years."

Bracing his hands on broad shoulders, Steve raised his brow hopefully, "So my heat..?"

Eddie's finger came up to tap lightly at his mating gland. "Let me dine and wine you first, Angel. And then, when your heat passes, I'm gonna court you and we'll talk about our future together."

"Didn't know you'd be the old-fashioned type," Steve said teasingly.

"I'm not," Eddie shook his head and looked at him fondly. "But you deserve all the good things in the world, pretty baby. And if it means I have to spend months courting you, then so be it."

Steve let out a chirp at that.

It was so sudden and unexpected that he didn't have time to react.

But Eddie's pleased grumble had stopped him from overthinking.

"I think I'd like you to court me," Steve met those loving eyes and smiled softly. "Alpha."

In response, Eddie only pulled him into a tender kiss.

It seemed Steve had become addicted, not to the drugs, but to something better.

He had become addicted to Eddie Munson.

And it might be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[memescomicswriting]

Okay, but here me out … modern!Aegon x reader Casual coded

I know that our Queen Miss Roan did not write this song about a man and the fandom has dubbed it one of the Rhaneyra x Alicent songs. However, as a bi I can attest that this song can apply no matter the team you bat for. It especially applies when the situationship is with someone who’s emotional attachment skills fluctuate whenever the wind blows. So Aegon.

Modern!Aegon, maybe you met in college through overlapping friend groups. He likes to party, your friends like to party. This continues past graduation.

My friends call me a loser/ 'Cause I'm still hanging around

Whether you’re still in uni or not, your friends think it’s time for you to mature and move forward from this cycle you have with Aegon. He’s not good for your health.

I've heard so many rumors/ That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

Your friends fill you in on what’s being said about you as a part of their reasoning.

“See how he talks about you. And you stay?”

I thought you thought of me better/ Someone you couldn't lose/ You said, "We're not together"/ So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

You confront him about what he’s been saying to his mates, but that silver tongue of his can smooth anything over. When you’re alone, he’s so sweet and you’re putty in his hands.

You said, "Baby, no attachment"/ But we're/ Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out

Aegon’s got big Peter Pan energy. He bolts at any form of responsibility and that includes the responsibility of maintaining a relationship. He doesn’t want to grow up, his partying years to end, and to take on the role his parents have carved out for him. He’s afraid that if he commits to you it’s a sign he’s ready to commit to his future.

Is it causal now

He likes you. He wants you. Maybe as close to love as he can get. But he’s Aegon, so he keeps you at arm’s length despite demanding the intimacy.

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach

However, you’ve been around long enough that his parents do know you. They’ve seen your face enough. When he has an event that needs a date he always brings you.

I know what you tell your friends/ It's casual

It’s what he tells them when they’re high at 3am and the question comes up again. He can’t bring himself to say it’s anything more.

Then, baby, get me off again/ If it's casual, it's casual now

You always fall back into his bed. He’s addicting. You love the rush and thrill being with him gives you. You crave it despite the burn you receive every time you crash out.

Dumb love, I love being stupid/ Dream of us in a year/ Maybe we'd have an apartment/ And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

Despite your better judgment, you still go to that delulu headspace. It’s the post orgasm high and he’s being so sweet and gentle. Maybe he’s finally changing.

I know, "Baby, no attachment"

And then his words are bringing you crashing down into the reality of it all.

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out/ Is it casual now?

And yet he gives you these intimate moments. They almost feel sacrosanct. And you’re thrown in the whirlwind of emotions again only to be smacked down.

It's hard being casual/ When my favorite bra lives in your dresser

You’re with him so goddamn often that his neighbors think you share the apartment.

And it's hard being casual/ When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

You’ve been at this for so long. You know him. You know Helena. She treats you as if you’re some pillar, some constant, someone who’s always been in the family.

And I try to be the chill girl/ That holds her tongue and gives you space/ I try to be the chill girl

You try so fucking hard to please him. You’re trying so goddamn hard to suppress all your desires that will scare him off. It’s like he’s given you a 4x4 dimension of space to take up in his life, but you’re a 5x5. You’re tipping over and bleeding out.

But honestly, I'm not

For some unknown reason on some random day, the scale finally tips to far. Like a spring that’s been coiled and tightened as far as it can go, you bounce back with force.

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner/ Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter

Maybe that was the moment. You’re thinking he’s finally taking this seriously if you’re having a one on one dinner with his family for no special occasion. His parents compliment his growth. You’re more than willing to comply when he drags you off to the bathroom. You think you’re both caught up in the evening. When return is when you realize it was all to antagonize his parents. You go home alone.

Bragging to your friends, I get off when you hit it/ I hate to tell the truth, but I'm sorry, dude, you didn't

You confront him the next time you see him. For the first time you actually catch him talking with his friends about you. He’s gotten bold to do it with you around. You nearly blackout while burning with rage. You’re spewing every hurtful thing you’ve ever thought while he’s dragging you into a private space.

“What the hell was that?”

I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself/ Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

The invisible string that’s connected the two of you, he’s stretched so far that it’s finally snapped. You’re furious but you’re finally free. And you leave him. Not like any other time before, where you were meek and teary eyed. There’s no “I love you, but…” No, you’re red faced, voice hoarse, no decorum letting him have it. Everything.

You leave him a stuttering mess. Nothing left to say. Nothing to go back to. You’re broken but you’re free.

And his pain is just beginning.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Friends to Lovers is for the Fairytales

Word Count - 8k

Author's Note: Thank you all for requesting a part 2. Here it is, I know the word count is pretty high but the drama was too good for me to cut any parts. Also, I figured I should make a real cover for this fic since it has multiple parts now. 🤣🤣 As always thank you for reading and enjoy the drama.

Possible Triggers - friends with benefits established, use of Y/N, mentions of anxiety, panic attack, lots of cursing

Summary: When you met Jack and everything just clicked for the first time in your life. You thought that meant that you would finally get your happy ever after but maybe that isn't the case.

Part 1 Part 2

You don’t remember much from last night other than by some miracle making it home. It felt as if you were having an out body experience, like someone drugged you earlier in the night because you couldn’t feel anything. All you knew was that you craved your bed. The storm was still going strong once you reached your apartment. It almost felt as if it was displaying how your heart, body and soul felt, just raging on, praying someone would reach out a hand to hold. As you walk up the four flights of stairs to your apartmentIt hits you. It feels like how people describe a near death experience. As if the last year of your life flashed before your eyes. Your body gives out and you fall on the 3rd floor landing. Your panic attack is finally taking over your senses. You can’t feel anything and yet you feel everything at once. Your head hurts hurts as memories of you and Jack flash through it.He was always the one who talked you off the ledge. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a panic attack let alone an anxiety attack. Now to think this is your second one of the night, it pushes you over the edge.

You know Anna is upstairs, if you could just move your legs. But you can’t, you're stuck, hyperventilating as your world comes crashing down. Realizing that the love of your life, didn’t see you as anything more than some girl who was simply a fuck. The man you have spent the last almost a year building your life around. Now here you were with your hands trying to grab your chest, scratch your arms, you didn’t care if they bleed after you just needed to ground yourself. You can hear his voice in your mind “ baby it’s okay, I got you.” As you grab your shoulder and start squeezing it, what he always did to bring you back. “I am right here baby, I got you, you're so strong. You're safe.” Your other hand is going to touch your head and bring it through your hair. He always cradled your head in chest, to hide you from the world until you were ready to come back into it. You open your eyes and you scream fully accepting your pain. Because you realized that your brain just played the biggest trick on you of all, Jack wasn’t holding you. No, he was the cause of it and when your body felt like you were having a heart attack the only logical thing your brain could do was play some sick joke on you by using the man that caused the pain to calm your demons. 

You must have yelled louder than you realized because Anna came running down the stairs to you. “Oh love,” she exclaims a mixture of sadness and sympathy at seeing her friend at a low, but in the background there was a mixture of anger at Jack for helping you go so far in your journey of healing only to snatch it away in the end. She sits next you facing your body that was against the wall. “I got you love, it’s okay, everything will be okay.” She whispers in your arms.

“Come on Y/N. Let’s get you home.” she says as she slowly starts urging you to stand. Knowing that normally you like to cry behind closed doors and not on the landing of the stairs to your apartment.

“Home?” you whispered no longer crying for the moment. “But he was my home.” you slowly start to cry out again feeling yourself working back up. 

“Nope nope, we're not doing this. Look at me Y/N” you’re not sure if you move your eyes to meet hers or if she moves. You're trying to focus on how your breathing isn’t normal anymore and trying to remember the last time it was. “Hear me when I say this…are you listening?” she asks one hand on your cheek to keep your focus, the other on your forearm moving it back and forth. “You are one bad bitch and although I don’t know what happened yet. Fuck him, you hear me, he’s a dumb fucker and I told you that when I found out he couldn’t cook broccoli. What fucking adult doesn’t know how to boil water.” By the end you can hear the judgment in her voice and you laugh, it's a sad laugh but a laugh. It makes Anna breakout in a full blown smile for the first time since she found you. “Alright let’s get you upstairs, you're soaked you need a shower so you don’t get sick, and then we can do whatever you want alright love?”

You finally get up, and Anna helps you to get up the stairs and inside your apartment. Anna let’s you go to take a shower, as she goes to the kitchen getting some food ready because knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten. Then you come to the kitchen wrapped in a towel, but her back is turned to her. You're scared to speak, not trusting your voice in the moment, you wait until she turns around. “Jesus Y/N/N.” she yells her hand going to  her chest probably feeling like you jump scared her. She knows there is no way you showered yet but she asks anyway “Have you finished your shower yet?” In a soft voice not sure what you need.

“I don’t wanna be alone. Can you -” suddenly embarrassed feeling yourself on the edge of yet another crying fit, you feel like a toddler scared of the dark needing a flashlight to sleep alone at night. 

“Of course. I’ll stay on the toilet seat. We can talk or sit in silence whatever you need Y/N. I am here. I love you.” she comes up to you and hugs you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper out as you turn to the bathroom, and get in the shower. Anna stays true to her word; she sits her ass on the toilet and doesn’t move. 

After a few minutes she asks, “Do you wanna talk or silence?” 

“No silence… but I - I -” You stumble over your words as your body wash is rinsing off of you from the water. 

“Okay I can talk enough for the both of us.” She says in such a confident and non-judgment way. Your heart swells with love for the first time tonight and you have a little smile on your face although Anna can’t see it. 

She continued to talk the entire time you were in the shower updating you on her work crush, her brother calling her for advice after accidentally sending a girl  nudes when he was drunk. She went on and on about how her brother was a fucking idiot and every time she had to talk to him about girls she swears her IQ drops because the brain cells literally die from hearing his train of thought. She then goes on to make a comment about how she still thinks Luke and her brother would be best friends. By the end you’re crying with laughter for the first time that day. 

Once you’re done with your shower we climb into my bed. Anna insists on warming up the leftover pizza you had earlier, chocolate and a bottle of wine “y/n whatever the fuck happened it was big, I say this with love, but I haven’t seen that bad of an attack for you in forever. I am gonna need to be tipsy so I don’t drive to his place and beat him up.” Anna, your true ride or die, and you loved her for it. By the end of telling her everything it was nearing 2 AM and you felt like you were gonna collapse. Anna convinced you at some point to call out tomorrow, probably somewhere along your fourth glass of wine and third breakdown of the night. Which is ironic you calling out but you don’t mention that to her. She writes the email to your boss saying that you had the flu and you were ready to bring a doctor’s note when you returned. Which if you sober, you would have questioned her on. 

“Okay so what happened once you got to the bar. By the way, you are nicer than me. I wouldn't have sent his drunk ass an uber. But I’ve always said that you're nicer than me. After he practically said you were with him for the money like fuck you dude. ” You physically wince, grateful that Anna broke out a new bottle of wine so she can’t make her earlier threat a reality. Once you tell her she stands up, “I am gonna kill him.” As she goes into the living room looking for her slip ons to put on her feet, you follow closely behind. 

“No An please. Please. Don’t. I don’t want the fucking drama, okay? Plus you’ve been drinking.” you reason quickly trying to convince your friend to calm down. 

“That’s why uber exists.” She says matter of factly, you glance at the time now being almost 3. 

“If an uber comes and gets you, how do you know he’s home? Please Anna, I beg you.” As you finally reach, the app is already opened, house keys in hand. She glances up at you and sees your pleading eyes. 

“Fine. But if he EVER shows his fuckface around here, He has to answer to me.” 

“Deal” you rush out almost as if you didn’t see in the moment she would have finished ordering the uber. 

“Alright let’s go to bed. I’m not letting you sleep by yourself tonight.” You show a small smile on yourself as you follow Anna back to your room ready to pass out after such a long day. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up the next day, the events from yesterday slowly coming back to you. You don’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that you have no energy to cry. You grab your phone from the end table, mentally thanking your drunk self for plugging it in before passing out. The time on your phone displays 11:30 AM. You can’t help but wince at your background, it’s you and Jack on the boat last summer he’s driving and you're in his lap. Neither of you even knew that Quinn was taking the picture at the time since it’s taken from behind you both. 

Later when you asked him why he took it he said “i’ve never seen Jack that happy with a girl.. I wanted to capture a moment where he wasn’t being an asshole with Trevor for once in the summer. Plus it’ll be cute to have pictures from this summer to look back on.” 

Little did he know that now it made your stomach sink. You slowly went through your texts from last night and while you were sleeping. A lot of Jack that you don’t open, a few from Anna explaining that she had to go to work and that I was right when I said being hungover at work fucking sucks. One from your boss saying he hopes you feel better which you heart. The most shocking of all a text of all comes from Luke. 

baby bro Lukey 👶🏻

received 9:00 AM

Hey I just want to tell you how sorry I am about last night. I don’t know what I thought at the moment, but when Nico told me the little he heard I felt sick because I feel like this is all my fault about what happened at the bar.

Received 9:02 AM

I guess I was trying to save Jack, so he could apologize for being the biggest dumbass in Jersey. But I should have been loyal to you, I mean.. you're basically like a big sister to me. Shit when you met Emmy I introduced you as family. You helped me more than anyone with the stress and anxiety of my rookie year, you always make sure I’m okay, I mean fuck I go you for advice about well everything more than Jack or Quinn. I’m sorry about not choosing you last night to be loyal to you. I don’t expect you to answer I just, I needed to reach out and tell you how fucking sorry I am Y/N/N. 

Immediately, you feel tears coming on reading Luke’s text. People in the media always assume that Quinn is the most sensitive, but really it’s Lukey. Immediately you start texting back.

baby bro Lukey 👶🏻

Sent at 11:45 AM

Oh lukey, thank you for your kind words. I don’t blame you in any way shape or form for your jackass of a brother, I am happy you reached out, you’ve always been the sweetest. Right now I need space from everything that reminds of Jack… but I promise we will not stop being friends and you can text me anytime my baby bro Lukey 👶🏻.

baby bro Lukey 👶🏻

Received 11:48

I understand Y/n/n it’s okay but if you need anything I’m here and I know it doesn’t mean anything but I’m sorry for Jack’s actions.

The tears that were welling in your eyes fully, making you cry. You didn’t respond to Luke, but you did love the message. Then you turned around and cried yourself back to sleep. 

You woke up to Anna knocking on your door around 7:00. She didn’t bother for a response as she walked in. You turned around so you were facing the door again. As soon as Anna noticed the way you were laying and your bloodshot eyes she came running over. You could tell she had literally just walked into the apartment from work. “Oh Y/N honey” she cooed at you as she got on the bed next to you and held you to her chest, her hands running up and down your back in a comforting way. 

Your voice cracked as just above a whisper somehow you were able to get the next words out of your mouth. “I - I thought it was a dream.” As a loud sob left your mouth. As you bring one hand to grip your chest trying to dull the pain and the other grabbing tightly onto Anna’s sweater just trying to keep yourself grounded. 

“I know sweetheart. I wish it was for you,” She whispers as she holds onto you trying to bring you some sort of comfort to you as you experience one of the worst pains you have ever felt. 

Luke’s POV

Luke was just hanging out in his room playing some random PC game he just spent today trying to avoid Jack at all cost. He was feeling pretty pissed at him for hurting Y/N plus Jack hasn’t been in the best mood today after everything that’s happened over the last 24 hours or so. Luke thinks he did a pretty good job ignoring Jack since he only saw him once today right after Y/N had texted him back. A small part of him felt pity for Jack, he looked like absolute shit. Luke doesn’t remember the last time he saw his brother not only nurse such a shitty hangover but look so…broken. But his brain immediately reminds him of what he did and he hates him for hurting someone he considered a sister. Luke took all the food and drinks he would need for the remainder of the day to his room when he ran into Jack this afternoon, deciding that he didn’t deserve Luke’s presence at least not today after what he did. 

Luke noticed his phone lighting up on his desk, he saw Quinn’s contact flash on the screen. Even though he wanted to murder Jack for last night, he still respected Quinn. he decided to pause his game to answer. Once he opened the message he noticed Quinn sent something in the group chat, - but it wasn’t the group chat with just Luke and his brothers, it was the one that was used much more often the one that included Y/N - Luke’s stomach dropped because he didn’t know what was about to happen but he knew it wasn’t gonna end well. 

Quinny -

Sent at 8:03 PM

Hey, have we all decided what we’re getting dad for his birthday??

I want to order it ASAP before we forget

It’s in like 2 ½ weeks.

8:05 PM

Y/N has left the group chat the hughes & future hughes

Quinny 

Sent 8:05

Ummm.. why the fuck did Y/N just leave 

Jack did y’all get another heated debate earlier about the what’s the best beer again 🤣🤣

Jackey

Sent 8:06

I’m not doing this right now.

I can’t believe she left 

Jackey has left the groupchat the hughes & future hughes 

Luke felt the stomach drop, the familiar feeling of anxiety slowly rising in his stomach. He started mumbling a slur of curse words as he read everything unfolding. He actually felt like he could throw up when he saw Quinn Facetiming him. Luke dropped his phone in shock, falling under his desk. “Shit shit shit shit fuck me fuck me fuck fuck fuck” He started repeating like a prayer trying to bring himself comfort as he reached for his phone under the desk. If this was any other time, he would have ignored Quinn and told him to contact them himself if wanted to play “oldest daughter syndrome” for the day. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a normal time and although he would love for Jack to answer to his questions and deal with his “you fucking dumbass” facial expression and fully judging the fuck out of you eyes. He knew Quinn and he knew he was more likely to call Y/N first. Luke still felt like shit for last night, he wasn’t gonna abandon Y/N again, even if she never knew. That simple fact is the only thing that made him bite his lip welcoming the blood from the pressure as he answered the Facetime call. 

“Okay what the actual fuck is happening with them??’ Quinn asks with a mixture of confusion and concern in his face. Scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion, but his face full of an underlying message of ‘speak now or my ass is on the next plane out.’

Luke lets a deep breath out, he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Okay I can tell you what I know, but what I do know isn’t much and I need you to promise me you aren’t gonna tell mom and dad.” Luke lists his requests like his agent does when negotiating a new contact. 

“Okay..” Quinn says confusion evident in his voice and even more on his face.

“Oh and you can’t contact Y/N -” Luke rushes out.

“What?!” Quinn cuts him off raising his voice, getting annoyed at his little brother’s demands for a simple question.

“Just not today okay…just give her a few days.” Luke reasons

“Why? She’s practically family!” Quinn questions

“Just… promise you won’t. Q, please.” Quinn could hear the desperation in Luke’s face he immediately and reluctantly agreed.

Quinn opens his mouth, talking in a much softer tone “Okay Lukey sure, I promise, now tell me what the fuck happened.”  

“Okay like I said I don’t know much but this is what I do know. We had Emmy’s birthday last night and Jack showed up a little late. I mean not super late, normal Jack late but you know-” Luke’s rambling was becoming extremely noticeable as with each word his voice was quickening in speed, his anxiety beginning to be noticeable. 

“Luke first take a deep breath buddy.” Quinn patiently waits until Luke takes a few breaths before he begins speaking in a more demanding tone “Now can you please get to the fucking point!” he exclaims. 

“Okay so Jack showed up and he was off, like super off. He looked pissed he dragged me to the bar immediately ordering shots demanding we “celebrate Emerison’s big day.” Luke says, making quotation marks with his hands at the last part. “Anyway, after 2 shots I left to dance with Emmy. When I came back to the bar like I swear Q not more than an hour TOPS. He was noticeably getting drunk texting Y/N. At first I didn’t think anything of it but then I saw his face. He looked sad.” Luke admits quietly like he was tattling on his brother and didn’t want Jack to overhear. 

“What do you mean by sad? That's not Jack.”  Quinn questioned. 

“Yeah I know anyway he started telling me how he fucked up and he got in a fight with Y/N/N. I mean Q if it wasn’t for him looking like he just got the shit beat out of him and he was fighting to breathe with a broken rib. I would have laughed it off, cause they never argue even before and when they do it’s a debate at best. But - his face Q. I’ve never seen him like that. I told him to go to her, take an uber. Hell I offered to pay for it he refused, ya know his stubborn ass. Anyway, I decided to leave him to himself if he wanted to be an idiot let him, I thought.” Luke suddenly paused as he realized the next part of his story was going to be.

“Okay what happened next moose.” Quinn asked as he started walking around his apartment, he propped his phone so it was sitting up against the wall of his kitchen leaving the frame.  Luke figured he was probably making lunch after training. 

“Uhh… well I kind of fucked up Quinny.” Admitting it out loud made Luke feel worse than he has all day. 

“What? I thought this was about Jack?” Quinn asked. 

“Well he did but, I don’t know why he did this but the next time I saw him he was kissing some random girl and-” before Luke could finish his sentence Quinn came back into frame and started yelling.

“HE WAS WHAT?” Quinn asked, shock and anger mixing into his voice. 

Luke mumbling the next part “yeah and I don’t know why but I looked towards the door after I saw, I made eye-contact with Y/N”

“Wait Y/N was there???” he questions.

“Yeah she wasn’t at first.She said she didn’t wanna go out but I guess Jack’s texts worked. Quinny as soon as our eyes met I could see the pain in them even from across the bar. I wanted her to not be in pain for long, so I went to Jack and pulled him off her. I told him he’s a fucking jackass, dumbass and all the asses and that Y/N was here. How she saw him, he needed to go fix it cause Y/N doesn’t deserve that shit.” Luke says shame filling his voice. 

“Oh Lukey.”  Quinn said, a mix of hurt for Y/N and maybe a little disappointment in his brother's actions. 

“Trust me, nothing you can say to me will be anything I haven’t already told myself. I fucked up by telling him. I should have gone after her myself and not let her drive home.” Luke refuses to look at the camera as the shame overtakes his body. 

“It’s not your fault okay, you thought you were helping her. So that’s it, he went after her and she told him to fuck off I’m assuming?”

“Well I stayed in the bar, I don’t know what happened for a long period of time but Nico ended up finally catching up to them. He told me what he heard, he said that Jack tried blaming Y/N for cheating because they weren’t really dating, they never used titles. I mean everyone knows that but-” Luke starts to rant but it’s cut short by his older brother.

“JACK DID WHAT OH MY GOD I KNEW HE WASN’T THE SMARTEST I DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS THAT MUCH OF IMBECILE.” He yells through the phone so loud Luke turns the volume down, he doesn’t want Jack to hear him telling Quinn.

“Yeah well I don’t know anything else, that’s all Nico said and that he cut Jack off from continuing. He also said that Y/N popped the fuck off and apparently it took everything in him not to give her standing ovation.” A breath leaving Luke’s lips somehow his chest feeling lighter than it has all day. “I felt sick when Cap told me so you're doing better than I am. Then again I was a little drunk. I did reach out to Y/N and apologized this morning. I felt like I caused that to happen.”

“No” Quinn cut him off sternly, not letting his youngest brother take any of the blame. “Yeah you might have told him she was there but I’m glad she was because she deserves better. Fuck I wish I didn’t agree to not reach out.” As Quinn pets his fingers on his temples, lightly massaging his slowly building headache that was forming. “Alright I won’t tell mom. She can find out from her son who created the mess. That’s not my problem. When am I allowed to talk to Y/N?Did she answer you this morning?” Quinn asks, finally opening his eyes and looking on the screen. 

“Yeah sort of, she said it was okay and it wasn’t my fault for Jack’s actions, but she also said she needed space from anything that reminds her of him.” Luke admits softly.

“See I told you she was too smart for Jack when we met her.She isn’t mad at you Lukey don’t carry guilt that isn’t yours. Was that the whole convo?” he asks,

“I told her I was always here for her but she only loved the message.” Luke softly admits, some of the guilt lifting after talking to Quinn.

“Alright, how many days till I can text her?” Quinn asked

Luke thought for a minute before saying, “Give it four days, Saturday our time in the morning.” 

“Fine..” Quinn agrees reductively. “Now down to why I texted the group chat, what the fuck are we gonna get Dad for his birthday?”  

——————————————————————————

It’s been exactly 3 days since your breakup with Jack. You silenced his texts along with phone calls so you couldn’t get the notification. You meant what you said when you told him goodbye, even though it has caused your chest constant pain, and be the reason you haven’t left your bed since. Today was Friday, the last day you had on that doctor’s note Anna got you. Still not sure exactly the extent of what she had to do to get it, but alas you were extremely grateful that she did. 

You allowed yourself to sleep in, somehow that felt more comforting than being awake. You finally woke up around noon and decided that the hunger in your stomach was greater  than your desire  to stay in bed. You decide to get up and throw something in the airfryer. You settled on the couch as your food was cooking, deciding what to watch. You spent most of your day just laying on your couch, in and out of sleep while the T.V. blared in the background. You heard your phone ringing and you decided to glance at who was calling to decide if you wanted to answer. 

You could feel your heart race speed up, your blood pressure go up and your stomach drop when you read who the call was from. “Mama Hughes” stared up at you. You even blinked a few times to make sure you were reading your phone correctly. But then noticed the time and date on your screen,  Friday night 6 PM. This is when Ellen always called you for your weekly check-in. It didn’t matter if Jack was home or not. She has called you every Friday at 6 since the first time you met her at the lakehouse this past summer you realized she probably doesn’t know what happened with Jack. Although, you could be mad at Jack and even ask Luke for space for a few days. You truly couldn’t allow yourself to not answer the call since she has always treated you with open loving arms that any mother would. After the week that you had you really craved the kind of love only a mom can give. You swiped to answer and put the phone to your ear, grateful it wasn’t your normal facetime call instead. 

“Hey” you speak with the most normal voice you can muster but you heard your voice crack and winced because there is no way Ellen didn’t hear it. 

“Hey Y/N, you don’t sound so well are you sick or are your allergies bothering you more today?” She asked concern laced in her voice, but before you could come up with an answer she added. “Hopefully Jack is taking care of you either way. It’s what you deserve dealing with Jack and Luke’s man colds” Letting a light chuckle out as she thought about how obnoxious they can be when they’re not feeling their best. 

You swallowed your throat before you opened your mouth. “No Ellen, um actually I have been just crying a lot so my throat is sore.” As you feel the silent tears steaming down your face at how fucked up it is that you have tell her what her son did. Now you’re regretting your decision to answer the phone because of how awkward the call was about to become. 

“Ohh sweetheart, why have you been crying? Is it because of work stress? Or all of Jack’s back to back roadies, you know he’ll be home soon love.’’ She said in a cooing comforting voice. You swear you can feel your heart break a little now. 

“No… um…. Jack and I got in a really bad fight this week.” You paused for a moment to try and think of how to word in the nicest way possible what happened. “Well it was a work night and he wanted me to go out with him, to Emmy’s birthday.”

Ellen cuts you off even though you can’t see her face. You know she furrowed her eyebrows now as listening to you. “That’s the girl Luke is dating right?” she asks, making sure she’s following the story correctly.

“Yeah I think they're dating… anyway I said I didn’t want to spend the night drinking cause I had work early the next day and he got mad. We both said some… not nice things and he left. I ended up deciding to just take him home with me after his texts from the bar and  a video Jesper  had sent me of him looking sad at the bar. But when I got there he….” You stop yourself, deciding if you really should continue telling the mother of the boy who broke your heart exactly how he did. You know Jack probably wouldn’t want his mother to hear about his love life in this detail.

“He what Y/N/N, it’s okay you can tell me. What did he do honey?” 

“I saw him with a girl… they were kissing.” your voice whispers on your last few words. 

“HE WHAT?” Ellen screamed, you had never heard her so…angry the whole year that you’ve known her. You assumed she muted the phone probably to try to collect herself. Which honestly, you were grateful for because you also muted your phone to let yourself to sob. You're not sure how long you both stayed on the phone, each of you on mute, but somehow it was still more comforting than being alone. You’re truly not sure how much time had passed until you heard Ellen on your phone call for you through your phone. 

“Hmm?” you let out.

“I am so sorry that I somehow failed to raise a decent human being. Have you spoken to him yet, did he know you were there? Not that it matters…. I honestly don’t wanna talk to him right now.” she said this in such a monotone voice, that you knew there was no way she wasn’t being honest at the moment. 

“Yeah… he followed me outside actually.. to say it was a dumpster fire wouldn’t do it justice… he told me he didn’t really cheat because he didn’t know we were together.” You say somehow some of the anger from that night is coming to you now that you were allowing yourself to think about it.

“wait Y/N we must be having a bad connection. You said he didn’t know you were dating?” the pure shock in her voice making you smile because you knew  by the sound of her voice that  she was questioning Jack’s actions. You allowed yourself to find comfort in that. 

“Yeah” your way of softly confirming her assumptions. 

“That’s it. I am booking a flight right now. I mean I can’t stomach looking at him right now. Actually, I guess I’ll book two tickets so Jim can come deal with his son.”  The emphasis on “his son” not slipping past you. You could hear Ellen yelling in the background.

“JIM…” She yelled it was obvious they weren’t close to each other at the house at the moment.

“WHAT?” He yelled back that you would hear footsteps in the background. 

“Get the suitcases from the garage for me. We’re going to Jersey on the next available flight!” she tells her husband you can hear the rush tone in her voice like she’s running around the house looking for something. 

“Why?” he asks curious

“Because your son fucked up more than ever before, Y/N needs me, and it would be nice to see Luke too.” Jim must have decided it wasn’t worth asking any more questions. 

“Ellen!” you say possibly a bit louder than intended but you needed to get her attention. 

“What?” she asks, coming closer to wherever she sets her phone down. 

“Please don't come, okay. I am fine plus I have a lot of errands I need to do this weekend. My apartment is a mess, I have work on Monday, and I don’t think I would be the best company right now.”  You say hoping that Ellen decides to not just fly to Jersey because someone who isn’t even blood was crying on a phone call. 

“Y/N hear me when I say this, you matter to me and this family minus Jack at the moment. I am not really claiming him at the moment.” You accidentally cut her off a chuckle escaping from your lips, Jack definitely got his attitude from his mom. “Okay.. I don’t care about your apartment, if you want I can stay at the door and we can just go to lunch. It’s good to get out of your apartment. Plus I would love to see Luke - the boys always claim I show him favoritism. Which I deny but he is definitely my favorite… my own little moose. Plus I already bought my tickets for this Sunday and I can’t cancel it because it’s too close to get a refund. So you will definitely see me this weekend.” 

You know there isn’t any convincing her otherwise, even if she didn’t already buy her tickets. You let out a deep sigh as you let out an “okay.” You quickly said your goodbyes and hung up.You glance at the time to see it’s almost 6:30 and decide you probably should cook a proper meal for yourself for the first time this week. Since you haven’t eaten since noon before your nap, only to realize you were out of everything in your apartment.

Jack’s POV

It had officially been three days since Jack felt he made the biggest mistake of his life. He tried to reach Y/N multiple times through text and calling, he knows she didn’t block him because it shows that she read them.. Luke has barely even glanced at Jack since Tuesday, which given that they live  together is impressive. Especially considering the fact both of them were on the same team and had multiple practices together since. Coach tried to talk to them today after practice about it because he finally became fed up after 2 practices. Luke is not one to be an asshole to any of the coaching staff so it was a shock to Jack when he heard the words out of Luke’s coach.

“Sir respectively, am I not still doing my job? In fact am I not doing it better than what some would refer to as my brother?” If it wasn’t for the fact that it was a dig at Jack himself, there is no way he could have stayed quiet with a roast like that. 

“EXCUSE me?” Coach asked. But it really wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a warning. 

“Okay sorry, but we’ve been fighting lately.” Luke mumbles out his excuse, but Jack was too busy looking at his skates. Wondering how they could get so much dirt on them when he played in an arena. 

“Jack sorry to interrupt whatever the fuck your looking at” Jack could sense the annoyance in Coach’s voice but he didn’t care to look up yet. “But do you have anything to add about this little “fight” y’all seem to have had and why the fuck it’s showing up on my rink!” Their Coach demands the last part, not leaving any room for interruption on how he was feeling about this situation, absolutely fucking pissed. 

Jack finally decides to look up and speak for the first time. “No coach. I am sorry. Luke was right I haven’t been playing myself, take me off the line if you want. Don’t punish Moos-” Jack almost let the childhood nickname slip out but he knew Luke wouldn’t want Jack to use it right now. “Don’t punish Luke for this. I deserve to sit out. -” 

Coach decided he couldn’t listen to any more of Jack’s shitty attempt at a speech that wasn’t giving him answers to anything he was asking.“ LISTEN HUGHES, BOTH OF YOU, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOUR FIGHT STARTED WITH AT HOME. BUT YOUR AT WORK, AT WORK YOU GOTTA BE PROFESSIONAL. YOU THINK I LIKE EVERYONE HERE -FUCK NO - BUT I STILL GOTTA SEE THEIR DUMBASSES EVERYDAY! Y'ALL ARE BROTHERS FIGURE IT THE FUCK OUT.” Luke and Jack glance at each other for the first time in days. For the first time in days, he felt a wave of hope. Maybe if Luke could look at him it means he could forgive him, and if Luke could forgive, of course his angel Y/N maybe could too. 

“You know she was important to me too. She was family and although she says nothing will change I know it will never be the same. I am pissed at you, pissed at you for hurting Y/N. But also pissed at you because for some reason that night I looked at you when you came back J, I felt so guilty for pointing her out to you, because of what Nico said he overheard. But I looked over at the bar, you just sat there like nothing fucking happened and that’s just wrong.”

Before I can respond, Coach cuts in “Wait this is about Y/N? I wouldn’t have thought Y/N would be the reason y’all would fight, I mean Jack haven’t y’all been dating for 6 months?” Obviously at this point just deciding to be fucking nosey. Luke didn’t mind as much as I did.

“OH MY GOD THANK YOU! THIS DUMBASS WENT AND KISSED A GIRL AND THEN BLAMED IT ON Y/N BECAUSE APPARENTLY THEY NEVER TALKED ABOUT BOYFRIEND GIRLFRIEND LABELS OR BEING IN A COMMITTED RELATIONSHIP!” Jack could have  sworn to God in that moment that he had never seen his Coach laugh so hard as he is right now. I mean the man had hands on his knees, tears in his eyes laughing at me. 

“Oh wow… Jack your fucked in the head if you really thought that.” Coach exclaims after his laughing fit.

“Coach, he didn't think so. He told her that and more.” Luke says smug now that someone else agrees with him that i messed up. 

“Oh son. Whoo I ain’t jealous of you boy.” and with that the Coach leaves the locker room leaving Luke and Jack by themselves. Since all the other boys had left earlier because he and Luke had to do 20 bag skates due to their “issues” with each other.

“You know I regret that entire day right? I - I fucked up Lukey and now -” For the first time in days Jack let himself think about her physically walking away from him.  Jack doesn’t cry often especially in front of people but the fact that it was just Luke he didn’t give a fuck. Jack let himself feel the pain that his own actions caused. It's what he felt he deserved. Jack fell into his bench and let his mind wander as it took him back to that night. He was so out of it he didn’t notice Luke kneeling down in front of him and put one of his hands on Jack’s knee trying to grab his brother’s attention.

“Hey.. Jack…okay” It’s like Jack’s ears were under water he could only hear every other word. His next thought made him spiral only deeper into the hole his ,ind created as he thought, ‘fuck did I make her feel like this.’

“JACK.” Finally Jack made eye contact with his brother. “Good, take a deep breath, you’re alright dude.” Luke stays like that, one hand on Jack’s knee, the other holding the back of his neck so his eyes don’t wander. Actually it took until that moment for Jack to realize that Luke’s other hand was on the nape of his neck.  “You alright?” Luke talks in a low voice even though they are the only ones in the locker room, somehow a louder voice would feel too loud in the moment.

“Yeah as good as I can be.” I answer in a rugged voice from just finishing crying. 

“Look I don’t hate you, you're my brother, but I am still mad at you okay? I just - I don’t know dude.” Luke says it like he’s thought about this in detail and yet still can’t wrap his mind around the events that took place. Jack thinks about if only Luke knew how bad the first fight of that day was, when he tried to call her a gold digger. Jack knew she was anything but that, yet he  couldn’t help this thought taking over his mind. He remembered she always put even a simple Starbucks coffee her order in on the app so that Jack couldn’t pay for it. How she would deny Jack’s venmo requests when he tried to shower her with money for her coffee that week or so she could buy that new pair of shoes she wanted. 

“I know” Jack mumbles but when he catches Luke’s eyes he can’t help but desperately ask his next question. “Have you talked to her?” The worry in Jack’s voice is almost as bad as the impulse to ask about her. This is the longest that Jack has gone without talking to her since the night they met. Jack was desperate to know how she was, he longed to go to her apartment and see her. Especially, since he hasn’t been able to sleep without sleeping pills because she’s not in his arms. 

“We texted the day after but I started it and it wasn’t long. I have no idea how she's doing but I also respect Y/N enough to not tell you because she wouldn’t want me to.” Luke spoke softly but matter-of-factly. He also didn’t want to make his brother emotional again, people always say Quinn is the most awkward with emotions but it was by far Luke. He struggled with his own emotions and shyness, when people showed raw emotions he felt frozen, wanting to help but not knowing where to begin. 

“Right, of course.. No problem Lukey.” Jack stood up and started taking his gear from practice. Slowly his anger built at the entire mess, but somehow it ticked Jack off more that Luke was siding with Y/N. But his heart and his soul has never been more grateful because if he couldn’t look out for Y/N at least his little brother was able to. 

“Alright I guess I’ll see you at home” Luke says as he heads for the shower, having already been half out of his gear before the coach made them stay to talk. 

“Actually I have some errands to run so I’ll catch you later.” Jack rushes out to stay as he decides to just change into sweats. 

“Jack.. promise me you aren’t going over there” Jack looks at Luke as his words process in his mind. Jack can see the fear in his brother's eyes and it makes his stomach hurt again.

“I promise I have errands to run. I need  go get some groceries and dry cleaners.''He turns around finishing packing his gear, sliding his car keys and wallet in his pocket. “Hey do you have anything you need from Trader Joe’s I might stop on the way home?” Jack quickly slides his sneakers on.

“Nah, I'm good. See ya at home I guess.” As he disappears behind the wall to shower. 

Y/Ns POV

You decided ultimately that you didn’t have any food in your apartment. because of your mood the last couple days, you’ve been ordering way too much Doordash and your bank account couldn’t financially support that continuing. You decided to  take your time getting ready to go to Trader Joe’s mostly because you have been in pj’s for an embarrassing amount of time. You made your way out of your house in jeans and some light makeup. Somehow getting dressed like a normal human helped your mood improve. 

By the time you made it to the grocery store across Newark you could see it was dusk and getting colder. The only hoodie you had in your car was Jack’s. you really didn’t want to wear his hoodie after everything, but you hated  the idea of being cold more, so you put it on. You hated the fact that it still smelt like him, but you loathed the fact the amount of comfort it brought you. Trying your best to ignore the smell of his cologne, You grabbed your wallet and reusable bags and made your way inside. You kept your hood up and a hat on, along with your sunglasses. Unfortunately living in this town and your relationship, sometimes you got recognized. The fans were wonderful, but the idea of running into any fans on your first outing out of your apartment made your stomach hurt. You grabbed a cart on your way in and put on your earbuds in. Jack always hated you putting both earbuds in, claiming that it wasn’t safe. You thought to yourself that’s the first positive thing you’ve come up with since everything happened. You smiled to yourself feeling like this trip was your first step of self healing. 

That was until you got distracted walking down the frozen isle looking at all the snacks looking for your favorite. Pushing your cart along you didn’t realize how close you were to the end of the isle and t-boned a cart. You were about to say a passing apology as you pulled your cart and they moved their cart forward. You knew that side profile from anywhere. You glanced up and The person you just happen to bump into with a cart on first trip out the apartment is no other than Jack Rowden fucking Hughes.

[lottieurl]

PLEASE do share your thoughts on Jackie's parents 👀

THANK YOU for the encouragement. this might get long

let's start with how a while ago i got an anon implying that jackie was pampered by her parents BASED on the scene with adult shauna and them on jackie's birthday. which was the first time it ever occurred to me that people watched that scene and saw something completely different from what i saw. absolutely incomprehensible TO ME to even imagine that because i remember watching it for the first time and thinking that jackie's parents are straight out of a horror movie. there is something so sinister about how they treat shauna all while essentially replacing jackie WITH shauna. shauna gets jackie's gift and i believe (although i'd have to rewach the scene to make sure) shauna blows the candles on JACKIE'S cake and shauna is there with jackie's high school boyfriend. jackie's mother went to her wedding!! the show is not subtle about them putting shauna in the role of the daughter they lost. so why treat her so horribly? when they have no reason to because they don't know she was sleeping with jeff before plane crash before it's revealed to them in that very scene

so what that tells me and how i interpret it is: that's how they were treating jackie when she was alive. there is this insidious sort of cruelty that's masked by fake kindness? but constantly puts you down in ways that's hard to shake off. and jackie was probably Never good enough no matter how much she tried. she only became the Perfect Daughter after death when they could start treating shauna the way they treated jackie. like WHY is jackie such a deeply deeply insecure character? why does she crave validation sooooo bad? and we know she doesn't have a good relationship with her parents from how she talks about her mother when she gives shauna the pills on the plane (and implies her parents are neglectful) and when she says she has curfew and it's very much implied her parents would react badly vs shauna saying she has curfew too but being so unbothered by it she finds time to fuck jeff on her way home lmao. and to me people who fail to notice that are fooled by the appearances. jackie's parents have money and a big house and AFTER JACKIE IS DEAD idealize her. but what they seem not to notice is that the purpose of talking about how perfect jackie was is to belittle shauna. this isn't grieving parents who miss their daughter to me

and now actually let's talk about how i think that interpretation influences jackie as a character. we see how in moments of insecurity she does say things that are... i suppose a mix of self centered and not INTENTIONALLY mean but still hurtful to shauna. but she does usually backtrack and says sorry and her (many many MANY) moments of kindness always come off as genuine to me like she's starved for approval, she craves being loved. i think she keeps coming back to jeff just because even tho she doesn't want HIM she wants to be wanted and wants to be seen as someone who's wanted. but so much of her kindness sometimes feels. how do i put it. anxious? and so i imagine how living with her parents was for her. you're a kid and your parents keep finding ways to belittle you and to shame you but in ways that aren't very obvious especially to a child. you're a kid! you want their approval! so you learn HOW to be and HOW to act to maybe get it. if i am sweet and compliment them and i become the perfect daughter maybe they'll love me. and then you start applying that behavior to all your relationships and you're not even self aware about it. you're a teenager and you're trying so hard

[chronically-ghosted]

i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

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“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?” 

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.” 

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself. 

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion. 

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you. 

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?” 

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall. 

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?” 

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that. 

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin? 

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more. 

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came? 

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.” 

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking. 

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball. 

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” 

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest. 

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled. 

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed. 

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.” 

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts. 

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough. 

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress. 

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.” 

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again. 

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring. 

“It, uh, popped.” 

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?” 

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall. 

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook. 

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist. 

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you. 

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!” 

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast. 

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.” 

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing. 

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more. 

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?” 

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter. 

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back.  “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” 

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?” 

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.” 

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.” 

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?” 

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly. 

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release. 

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.” 

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door. 

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books. 

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?” 

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better. 

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?” 

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all. 

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.” 

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo. 

Funny how that all fucking worked out. 

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off. 

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.” 

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh. 

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,” 

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.” 

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest. 

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.” 

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.” 

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear. 

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.” 

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you. 

Don’t look at me like that. 

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded. 

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot. 

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night. 

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn. 

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you. 

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,” 

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.” 

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar. 

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.” 

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life. 

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm. 

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you? 

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once. 

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and – 

Does not find a bra. 

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open. 

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him. 

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure. 

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”   

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits. 

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it. 

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head. 

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him. 

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?” 

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely. 

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror. 

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you. 

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo. 

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress. 

“C’mere, baby girl–,” 

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his. 

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air – 

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses. 

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder. 

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.” 

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are. 

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches. 

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl. 

God, he’s so hard it hurts. 

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try. 

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.” 

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass. 

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him. 

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan. 

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched. 

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all. 

Families share similar insecurities, after all. 

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts. 

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,” 

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain. 

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales. 

Girlsex. 

Girlsweat. 

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell. 

He wants . . . to put his dick into something. 

But first – 

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan. 

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal. 

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top. 

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent. 

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have. 

Even when you left him, you’d never forget – 

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip. 

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple. 

Settle down. We’re only just getting started. 

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next. 

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you. 

Oh my God, duh, fingers. 

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed. 

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt. 

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him. 

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like– 

Do not fucking come right now. 

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.” 

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off. 

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.” 

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it. 

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee. 

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher – 

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open. 

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you. 

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.” 

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you. 

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation. 

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness. 

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress. 

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain. 

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it. 

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear. 

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes. 

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it. 

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.” 

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock. 

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once. 

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.” 

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick. 

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more. 

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears. 

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles. 

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much. 

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned. 

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast. 

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.” 

I want to die in this cunt. 

“So good, baby.” 

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you. 

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance. 

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees. 

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders. 

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it. 

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips. 

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing – 

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.” 

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours. 

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point–  all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.” 

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw. 

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you. 

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you. 

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes. 

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.” 

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet. 

“David.” 

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood. 

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.” 

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.” 

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest. 

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears. 

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard. 

“Holy shit.” 

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps. 

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.” 

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are. 

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.” 

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.” 

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him. 

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant. 

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece. 

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.” 

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple. 

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.” 

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase. 

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests. 

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets. 

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip. 

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.” 

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize. 

 You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once. 

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.” 

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone. 

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty. 

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off. 

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this. 

I never want to see you again. 

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%. 

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame. 

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside. 

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean. 

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?” 

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap. 

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.” 

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .” 

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.” 

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all. 

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but. 

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table. 

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist. 

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.” 

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face. 

“Guess so.” 

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him. 

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling. 

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

[st-eve-barnes]

Fix you

(Modern Aegon x Fem Reader)

Based on the prompt "You're just as broken as I am"

I've had a very bad mental health week, writing this thing was like therapy.

Warning: 18+ for smut. Dry humping, fingering, masturbation, teasing, orgasm delay, degradation/praise kink, light Dom/Sub undertones, hair pulling, biting, ... Alcohol use and mentions of depression. Angst/Comfort.

Word count: +3600

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aegon was one second away from pouring himself another glass of vodka when the knock on the door disrupted his plans. He thought about ignoring it for a moment, not feeling like seeing anyone tonight. He just wanted to get drunk and spend the rest of the evening in bed masturbating until he passed out, and then masturbating some more.

But whoever was at his door was persistent, knocking a couple more times, each one a little louder than the last, making him sigh deeply.

“Alright, I heard you already!” Aegon yelled, annoyed as he rose from the couch to open the door. He opened his mouth to complain some more but the words died on his tongue when he saw you.

Your eyes looked red, as if you’d been crying, you seemed nervous and on edge, looking everywhere except at him, “You alone?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, any sign of irritation was gone from his voice,”You alright?”

You didn’t look alright but you nodded your head all the same, dismissing his question.

“Can I come in?” you asked instead.

“Of course,” he moved aside to let you step into his apartment.

You noticed the half empty vodka bottle and the cigarettes on the coffee table first, only then did you notice how disheveled his hair was, his t-shirt wrinkled, as if he just came out of bed.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt anything,” you spoke as you turned to look at him.

“You’re always welcome to interrupt my plans, sweetheart, you know that,” he answered, voice both rough and soft,”What can I do for you tonight, huh? What do you need?”

“You,” you breathed, hands grabbing at his shirt to pull him closer, your lips crashed onto his in a deep, hungry kiss. Aegon reciprocated right away, grabbing your neck to hold you in place and kiss you even deeper. The taste of alcohol and desperation on his tongue made you feel high.

He guided you towards the couch and you pushed him down, hands on his shoulders as you straddled him, neither of you willing to break the kiss.

Aegon moaned into your mouth when you rolled your hips against him but then his hands moved to your shoulders to gently push you back.

“Hey, slow down,” he breathed.

“No,” you shut him up with another kiss and then pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your tits to him. Any protest he was about to start died before it came to life, his mouth latching onto your nipple and sucking hard, making you arch your back, a quiet satisfied sigh leaving your lips.

This was what you needed, what you’d been craving all day long, his mouth and hands on you, making you forget about everything else like only he could.

His one hand moved to your other breast, squeezing it just right while the other moved up your back, caressing your skin and pulling you closer to him. You moved again, dragging yourself over his cock, making him harder with every roll of your hips. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Aegon moaned softly, bucking into you while he started kissing your neck.

Your hands were already fumbling with his pants, trying to get him out. Seeing you so impatient and hungry for him was turning him on beyond reason, and he’d been horny as hell even before you stepped into the room. This was so much better than the night he had planned, so much better than fucking his hand again.

“Aegon,” you whined, you needed him closer, deeper. More, anything, everything.

“It’s okay, baby,” he kissed your jaw and nipped at your earlobe,”tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You pulled his shirt over his head, caressing his stomach and chest in the process before putting your lips on his neck, licking and sucking on his skin until he was rutting against you like an animal in heat.

“Fuck me until I can’t think anymore,” you begged him.

Your words made him snap, exactly like you hoped they would. He pushed you off of him to lay you down on the couch, swiftly discarding his pants and pushing your dress up, a smirk on his face upon seeing your wet cunt and no underwear.

You eagerly pulled him into your arms and his lips found yours in another sloppy kiss.

“You’re so fucking slutty for me, aren’t you?” he teased, grinning from ear to ear when he felt your whole body shiver at his words,”That what you want, sweetheart? To be my filthy little slut?”

You nodded and dug your nails into the skin of his back, making him groan into your mouth.

“Yes,” you managed to breathe,”Yes, please.”

“Beg me for it,” he teased, giving his cock a few lazy strokes before putting the tip at your entrance,”Tell me how bad you need it.”

“I need it bad,” you whimpered,”I need it so bad, Aegon, please….let me have your cock, please. Make me feel better, please.”

He wanted to tease you more, have you so desperate and so wet for him until neither of you could stand it anymore. But the tears in your eyes changed those plans.

He pressed his forehead against yours and slowly pushed his way into your heat, making your eyes close in a blissful sigh.

“That better?” he asked, his voice was soft against your skin, his fingers even softer as they caressed your face and gently moved your hair back behind your ear, letting your eyes meet. His gaze was so sweet and loving, it was more than you could handle.

Much to Aegon’s surprise you pushed his hand away.

“No,” you shook your head firmly, moving your hips to encourage him,”None of this soft shit, alright? Fuck me like you mean it, like you want to hurt me.”

That changed his demeanor instantly.“Oh, you want it to hurt? Alright, I can make it hurt. If that’s what you want, greedy little slut.”

He grabbed your hands and moved them over your head while he pulled his cock out only to drive in again in one hard and deep thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs for a second.

“You like that, huh?” he growled into your ear while pounding into you hard, his lips were on your neck again, sucking on your skin until it burned.

“Yes,” you moaned, meeting his thrusts with your hips, drunk on that stretch of him, so deep inside you, fucking away every bad thought you’d had.

Aegon was moaning with you, struggling between keeping that control or just giving himself over to his own desires. You felt so fucking good around him he could stay like this forever, locked in between your legs with your pussy gripping him so tight and so good. If there was a heaven this must be it and he thought maybe he was ready to die right now.

“God, you take me so well,” he breathed against your ear, one hand on your tits again, squeezing hard,”This pussy was made for my cock…No one else…no one else feels this good…fuck…”

His free hand pulled at your hair, exposing your neck and pulling until it hurt, which only turned you on more.

“That’s it, moan for me, let me hear you, baby,” his filthy words in your ear were quickly pushing you towards that much needed release and Aegon was right there with you.

His thrusts now short and hard, but just as you were about to cave he pulled out, making you whine in frustration.

With one rough pull you were up on the couch, on your knees with your back pushed up against his chest. His hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled hard until his lips were back on your ear.

“You think I’d let you come that easily, huh?” he teased.

You whined again and tried to wiggle your ass against his cock. He was rock hard and leaking all over your thighs but he didn’t budge, holding you in place.

“Touch yourself for me,” he breathed into your ear,”I want you to feel how wet I made you.”

You bit your lip and let your hand sink down between your legs to touch your clit, moaning at the first contact.

“Good girl,” Aegon whispered and you could feel his lips curl up into a smile,”You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Hmm,” you responded with a soft moan, your head falling back on his shoulder as you continued circling your clit.

“Keep going, beautiful,” he kissed your neck,”Let me hear those sweet moans.”

You could feel his cock pressing against your ass, your fingers working yourself faster and faster.

“Aegon,” you breathed.

“What’s wrong, baby? You close?”

You nodded and bit down on your lip.

“You’re not gonna cum, are you?” he pulled your hair again, placing his lips on that favorite spot right below your ear, his voice hot and heavy when he whispered,”If you cum I won’t fuck you.”

You let out a desperate whine and stopped moving your hand, earning you another pull at your hair.

“Did I say you could stop?” he growled again.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, putting your fingers back on your clit.

“That’s better,” he smirked,”Now finger yourself.”

“Aegon,” you whined.

“Do it,” he ordered, his teeth grazing your jaw,”Do it and maybe I’ll give you my cock. But only if you’re good. Think you can be good for me, little slut?”

You slipped a finger inside yourself without any more protest, surrendering to his words while you closed your eyes and softly nodded.”Yes, I can be good for you.”

Aegon kissed your neck while his hands moved down to your hips, holding you close to him, his cock stirring against you. 

He was barely holding it together but seeing you take orders so well was too much of a turn on to stop.

“Add another finger,” he told you.

You obliged, biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud as a second finger slipped inside of your cunt with ease. You were dripping wet and so ready for him, so close to that edge you could topple over any second now.

“Don’t slow down,” Aegon teased with another smile on his lips and then his hand moved over your inner thigh until he found your clit.

“Fuck,” you hissed when he started circling your overly sensitive bud,”That’s…not…fair.”

“Oh, you want me to stop?” he pulled his hand away with a smirk but you were quick to place it back between your legs.

“No, don’t stop!” you begged,”Please…please, don’t stop. Please let me cum…”

This time he was the one to pull your hand away but only to replace it with his own, two fingers sinking deep inside your pussy while his thumb moved over your clit.

When he curled his fingers there was no stopping it any longer, your legs were shaking as your orgasm took over.

“Please,” you begged, not wanting to give in before he said it was okay but also powerless to stop it.

“It’s okay,” his breath was warm against your neck,”Let go…cum for me, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

It was all you needed and you clenched around his fingers with a silent scream as you came so hard you could see stars.

Aegon talked you through it, continuing to fuck you with his fingers until you were completely sated,”That’s it, my sweet girl, my pretty little slut, you did so fucking well for me.”

Your body slumped against his, your heart racing in your chest as you gasped for air. Your mind gloriously blank and your lips curled into a dreamy smile. Aegon’s arms were around you now, hugging you close and giving you time to come down from it.

As soon as your breathing had returned to normal his hand moved into your neck to turn your face towards him, taking your mouth in a slow deep kiss.

His other hand moved down your lower back and over your ass, spreading you open for him and placing his cock against your entrance.

He was breathing heavily into the kiss,”Gonna fuck you hard now, that alright?”

“Yes, fuck yes, please.”

He drove into you with one merciless thrust, one arm around your waist and the other on your neck, holding you still while he slammed into you over and over again. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, locked with him for eternity in pure bliss where nothing else existed.

It didn’t take long for him to find a rhythm that left you both panting and riding towards that high. Aegon’s mouth was on your shoulders, kissing and biting your skin as he fucked you into oblivion, finally giving in and losing himself in you. 

There were no more words this time, only the feel of your tight wet heat engulfing him so perfectly. He was so deliriously addicted to you, nothing else in this world would ever come close to how you made him feel. Desired, wanted, needed, loved.

Your moans grew louder with every snap of his hips, you were so close, so fucking close to that high and you knew he would get you there. His cock filling you up so perfectly, as if he was made to do this, made to ruin you.

Your arm moved over your head to grab at Aegon’s neck, pulling his hair, holding yourself up while his cock drove you towards the point of no return.

He grunted into your ear and you knew he was close. You had fucked each other so many times over these past months, you knew all his moans by heart.

“You close, baby?” he breathed into your ear, checking to see if you were with him. He wasn’t going to cum if you weren’t with him.

“I’m close,” you confirmed in a moan.

His fingers moved down to play with your clit, you didn’t need much, a few more thrusts and that was it. You were clenching hard, taking him with you over that edge, both of you falling and clinging to each other to prolong the moment. Aegon pulled out just in time to spill all over your ass with a satisfied whimper, his face buried into the crook of your neck.

He held you afterwards, like he always did, letting you come down in his arms. It was one of the only times you could stand his tenderness. 

He waited for you to pull back first and then grabbed you some water and helped clean you up. Neither of you bothered to get dressed again after that, feeling completely comfortable with each other.

But something about you was different tonight, you still seemed on edge, even now, after everything.

Aegon noticed how you kept casually touching him, your hand resting on his leg or playing with his hair, anything to not have to let go of him. He recognized it like no one else could, that bad head space, the thing that brought you to him to begin with.

You tried to fight it but you failed, grasping onto nothing, that delicious high quickly fading and making room for something else, the thing you’d been trying to run from.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Aegon pulled you from your thoughts.

“Fine,” you answered but you were gulping down the vodka as if you hadn’t had a drink in weeks.

“Hey, slow down,” Aegon pulled the bottle from your hands and placed it back on the coffee table,”What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I don’t come here to talk, Aegon,” you dismissed him and ignored the hurt look in his eyes.

“Fine, whatever then,” he sighed,”Wanna watch some Netflix?”

“No,” you shook your head and looked away from him, closing yourself off. Aegon knew when that wall went up there was nothing he could do but wait until you let him in again.

He ignored you and turned on the tv anyway but after a few minutes of browsing he gave up. Nothing on there interested him in the slightest.

“What can I do?” he tried again.

You stayed quiet for a while.

“You can fuck me again,” you then answered and you moved to straddle him again but he grabbed your wrists to stop you.

“No,” he refused,”I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why? You can’t get it up again? Is that it, pussy?” you tried to challenge him but Aegon was having none of it.

“Just stop.”

You pulled free from his grip and angrily pushed at his chest but he just grabbed your hands again, a bit more forcefully now, and held them close to his heart.

“I said stop!” he raised his voice.

Your eyes met his but instead of being met with anger or frustration you only saw compassion and love in his soft blue eyes. It was enough to finally break you, tears spilling from your eyes.

“I can’t,” you cried,”I can’t stop, Aegon, I can’t…if I stop I feel it all and it hurts so fucking much…”

“Come here,’ he let go of your hands to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug and letting you cry against his chest. You welcomed the softness you usually declined, suddenly needing it more than anything and Aegon was happy to oblige.

His hands caressed your hair and your back, soothing you and letting you cling to him for a long as you needed to calm down while he whispered sweet comforting words into your ear.”It’s okay, I’m right here, I’ll hold you through it, it’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed after a while,”I don’t mean to take it out on you, you’re the only good thing I have.”

“That’s…really sad cause I’m not that great,” he joked, relief flooding his veins when you laughed through your tears.

He leaned back to look at you, cupping your face with ons hand. “You’re just as broken as I am, aren’t you?”

You nodded,”Probably more.”

His eyes remained on yours, his expression soft and intense.

“I can’t save you, sweetheart,” he then whispered,”You know that, right? You can’t put that on me.”

“I know, I know” You tried to bite back your tears but it was a futile attempt. Aegon caught them with his thumbs before they fell down, gently caressing your cheeks in the process and you leaned into his touch.

“I can’t fix you and you can’t fix me,” he then added and he smiled weakly,”I think we’re both broken beyond repair but…I can hold you through it, or fuck you through it, whatever you need.”

You looked into his eyes to find that warm loving look staring back at you, like you were the best thing to ever happen to him. It made you want to cry even more. You didn’t deserve him.

”Sometimes I think I’m just using you” you confessed softly.

Aegon just smiled at that. “Maybe I don’t mind being used. Not when it’s you.”

HIs hand moved down to your neck and he leaned in to kiss your lips, sweet and so soft it made you melt into his arms. You kissed him back and caressed his stomach.

“Do we make each other worse, Aegon?” you then asked.

“Probably” he admitted,”But…all I know is I don’t want to stop, don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“What do you want to do then?”

He took your hand in his and lifted it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.”I want you to stay the night, help me finish that bottle of vodka and crash into my bed. And then in the morning I’ll fuck you again.”

He smiled at the way your eyes lit up.

“But only if you’re good,” he added with a smirk,”Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you nodded and snatched the bottle of vodka from the coffee table, took a long sip and then handed it to Aegon who followed your lead this time.

You took the opportunity to break free from his hug and sink down on your knees in front of him, your hands moving over his thighs. You bit your lip with a smile when you noticed he was already growing hard again.

“What are you doing down there?” Aegon asked, suspicious,”I’m not gonna fuck you again tonight, I already told you.”

“I heard you,” you teased, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I told you to be good,” he warned you,”Otherwise I won’t…shit…fuck…what are you doing?”

His words died in his throat when you gently nuzzled his inner thigh, your breath hot against his dick.

“Maybe I want to see how good of a slut you can be for me,” you teased while circling the head of his cock with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he breathed, gripping the cushions of the couch with both hands.

”Think you can be a good boy for me, Aegon?”

”Oh, fuck yes, I can be good, I’ll be so good, I swear.”

You pulled away for a moment to give him a teasing look,”Are you sure?”

“Yes,” his voice was weak, reduced to nothing but a needy low whisper,”Please, I promise, anything you want, just…please don’t stop doing that, please, baby, please…”

You swallowed his moans down as you took him into your mouth completely, sucking him off as if his dick was giving you life, which wasn’t too far from the truth, and making him forget about everything else that hurt.

Aegon already knew he would break his promise tonight, he was going to fuck you again before the sun went down.

[mrs-snape5984]

“There is no other love, it's only yours…”

“You're all I want, all I love…” (“You’re all I want” by Cigarettes after Sex)

Yesterday I had a really rough day. It didn’t just feel like one of my regular “PEM-Crash-Days” (PEM = post-exertional malaise = the worsening of symptoms after crossing the boundaries of my condition, due to my disease ME/CFS). The whole day was also coated in a thick layer of sadness and grief…an emotional turmoil, which I could only barely endure. Well…mixing these feelings with another wave of fever and pain, seasoned with the incapacity of tolerating screen time, adding the suffocating sensation of loneliness….et voilà! The perfect recipe for a day in hell was created! 🙄

In order to cope with my emotions, I found myself drowning in my fantasies of teenage Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules…rewriting one of their short fictional scenes. Again, Severus was tormented by his own insecurities, getting carried away in self-loathing. I don’t know, how many times I’ve already written scenes like these. Jules encourages Severus to stay resilient, praising him for all those traits, which he only identifies as his flaws and weaknesses. But for Jules, there’s so much beauty, so much strength in his imperfections. She’s making his blemishes look like the most loveable attributes of Severus’ personality with her passionate speech.

When I wrote this little scene, I recognised something: I already knew, that I’m identifying myself a lot with Severus…but Jules’ words of encouragement and consolation to her beloved friend Sevy…well, they’re are also things, I would crave to hear for myself (how pathetic, huh?!). But since I’m struggling immensely with the acceptance of my own insecurities and fears, I’m not able to reassure myself of my own worth. It’s just not on the table for me!

So…I’ll just keep on telling Severus in my stories, that he deserves nothing less than the whole world…and that Jules will always try to make him feel loved and cared for. She will never stop to compare his flaws with her own weaknesses by explaining to him, how perfectly they’re matching. Jules will never grow tired to assure Severus, that his cynicism is the perfect complement to her sense of sarcasm. For the Slytherin girl, it's a clear sign for Sevy’s extremely high intellect, which is also something, that she adores about her friend. In Jules’ eyes, his bitterness mirrors a form of hypersensitivity, a characteristic, which she knows so well from herself. That’s why she’s acting so empathetically with Severus, whenever he’s suffering with his life…and Jules is convinced, that sharing those feelings will make them less unbearable! The girl even praises Severus’ stubbornness by telling him, that she’s enjoying every good and intelligent argument with him to clear the air between them. All together, Severus’ imperfections are pure perfection to the hopelessly devoted (and obviously love-struck 😅) girl.

I’m aware of the overdramatic nature and the unnecessary fluffiness of my short stories, but that’s the reason, why I’m writing them for my eyes only. It’s my form of a coping mechanism…the only way of allowing myself some kind of self-assurance and comfort…through Severus!

Some time ago, I found an artist here on tumblr, who made me fall head over heels for her tender style of drawing my beloved dungeon bat. Especially an artwork of her interpretation of the younger Snape made my heart ache with longing for him, so of course, I just had to commission @pssherri for an illustration of Severus and my OC Jules in their teenage years.

Sonja, you did an amazing job with this project and I can’t express, how grateful I am for your kindness and the dedication to your profession! It was a pleasure to cooperate with you on this idea of mine and I hope, you’ll be open to work on more of my requests some day. Thank you for everything, my dear!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[elliesbaby]

the high

ellie williams x reader one shot (not proof)

drugs and alcohol have no effect compared to the effect ellie williams has on you

warnings: drug use (dont use drgs people), sexual content, aggressive interactions?, alcohol use, read authors note

the night felt too dull, too similar to the days before. you had one thing on your mind. the thing that sparks something in you, makes the normal dull life feel like a fire that you craved. the fire was always one person, one girl. ellie williams. fire with fire has been your medicine lately. 

all you can hear in the room now is the sound of a harsh sniff and maybe some background noise of the others below you. at this point you weren't sure how many lines you've partook in, it's a blur. you never counted, you always used the drug until you hit your so called “sweet spot”  everything starts to shift in you as you fall back into the bed behind you. the only thing that brought you back to reality was a slam of the door followed by weight on the bed. your eyes stay shut but you can't help but smile. 

“so this is where you've been hiding huh?” 

you let out a giggle, “was just waiting for you els” 

ellie lets out an amused scoff, lifting an eyebrow. 

“oh really?” she teases, feeling cockier than before. 

“i was curious if you’d follow me. make up some excuse on why you need to be upstairs to the others.” you say, pacing the room while trying to mess with her, curious to see if she would play along. 

“so did you? make up an excuse i mean” 

ellie is shocked at your sudden boldness. you both always had the unspoken pining. attempts to brush up against each other, the stares passing back and forth, the conversations at night where one of you might fidget with the other's hand while opening up about both your pasts. it was never straightforward. she liked it, a lot. maybe it was the alcohol in her system but she wanted to play into it. 

“i may have said i had to go to the bathroom… for like the 6th time tonight.”

you let out another laugh, they always come easy with ellie. 

“you're hard to find, you know that? i think you like this cat and mouse game” she says. 

now it was your turn to be shocked, maybe even slightly embarrassed at the fact that she sees the pleasure you get from leaving a room, knowing ellie is two steps behind you. you try not to let it show, quickly replying with “i don't know what youre talking about” 

“oh yeah?” now the flushed girl was making her way towards you. you suddenly feel intimidated, the drugs that still circulate your system seem to be no comparison to ellie. she inches her face from yours, you can almost taste the whiskey from her breath. 

“so you’re saying you won't run huh?”

she was testing you, she was trying to have the upper hand that you started with. you try to act like your legs work right when you say “i'm not going anywhere”. leaning in as close as you can without properly kissing the girl, you let a smug smile creep on your lips knowing you’re close enough for her to feel it. you begin to pull away slowly, smirk still glued to your face, but your movement stops. the back of your head is being pulled back in by ellies hand. without a second to process her lips are desperately crashing into yours. instantly you attach your hands to her body, as does her hands. the way you two are grabbing each other is as if you have been dreaming about this for years. (you have) she grabs your hips aggressively pulling your body against hers. with each jerking contact she lets out a quiet whimper against your lips. both of you are desperately trying to breathe while not breaking the depth you both desired for so long. 

“ellie please” you whimper against her lips, trying to move her leg in between your thighs. the buildup is killing you both, you need something, anything.

in a swift movement ellie has your throat in a grip and your back slamming against the wall.

“this what you want?” she takes pride in the words she says, waiting for your pleading response for more. 

nodding, you let out a gasp when you feel her force her leg in between yours. the pressure is driving you crazy, grinding against her leg as fast as you can, borderline crying from the knots that plague your stomach. you couldn't wait any longer, you also couldn't handle the piercing stare of ellie. she couldn't get enough of you, she was drinking up this side of you, a side she could only dream of. 

“please ellie” you whimper out. 

“please what” she grins, almost saying it through her teeth. you should've expected that response. 

you look up at her, meet her gaze and beg out “please fuck me” 

that's all ellie needed. she moves her leg and pulls you into another kiss before pulling back for one moment to look at you, to really take you in. quickly after, she grabs you, only to push you onto the bed. 

that's when things start to feel fuzzy. you began hearing a soft knock on the door, with your eyes closed you chuckle a little. figuring youd have to tell jesse to fuck off, respectfully of course. out of nowhere the knocking got louder and closer. now your name was being called only it wasn't jesse, it was a woman's voice. 

you try to pry your eyes open which deemed harder than expected. what you saw made you shut your eyes quickly, despite your past effort. it was your room. you were alone. it was the same dull bed you started the day on. the knocking at your door was your mother. it gave you no time to process, quickly shooing her away you sit at the end of the bed you look in front of you. she was just there, you felt her, her lips on yours, her hands clinging onto your body. now in front of you lies the empty bottles and distorted lines of the drug. 

everything sinks and you fall back, curling up into a ball. you almost had her, it was almost real. you silently sob, knowing tomorrow night you would make sure to tell her you love her before you're taken back to reality. but tonight you would let that be enough for you, for now. 

(a/n: literally not realistic drug use this is not advice this is simply a silly depressing story because my escape of mundane life is pretend pixels are real, not substances <3 never use drgs im watching. im watching u.)

[bookskeepers]

a million dreams - sugawara kōshi

pairing: timeskip ! sugawara kōshi x nb ! afab ! reader

word count: 2,843

content warning: angst. angst. angst. (or at least an attempt to write angst idk if it's successful), established relationship, afab ! reader (because pregnancy sorry gang :( ), suga DIES, car accident (mentions), pregnancy, birth, omgomg, you have a daughter that looks exactly like suga too B)

a/n: why does my mind do this to me (i'm listening to the greatest showman while writing this) (Also i don't speak japanese so if the whole 'kanji' thing is wrong pls lmk)

also i feel like i accidentally veer it towards daichi x reader at some points but i promise it's only platonic between them

BEFORE

"We're gonna have two kids," he said in the dim lighting, his hands entwined with yours. "And a big house with a big backyard for a dog." Your head was tucked into his chest, and you could feel his soft breaths against your forehead. His arms were securely wrapped around you. The vibrations of his voice felt in time with your heartbeat, and you were content. Wholly, truly content in your boyfriend's arms, finding yourself drifting off to sleep as he rambled about his future plans that involved you.

As your eyelids grew heavy and finally closed, you heard him murmur: "We'll name the daughter Harumi and the son Koji, of course."

"Don't I get a say?" you asked then, a playful edge in your tone as you nuzzled further into his chest.

He chuckles into your hair, and you can feel his chest shake. "Of course you get a say," he replied when his laughter died down, "after all, you're going to be their parent too."

It was as if everything in Sugawara's life went according to plan. The next morning, the two of you had your marriage ceremony and wedding. The guest list was on the smaller side, with close friends and family being invited; you recognized familiar faces from Sugawara's time in his high school volley ball club. Your parents were present, along with other extended family members. The event itself went off without a hitch, and, after six years together, you could finally call Sugawara your husband.

After that, it felt like time flew. Before you knew it, you were moving out of your small, shared apartment into a much larger house. Although it wasn't huge by any means, it had enough space for Sugawara's plans: two kids and a dog. And soon, the dog joined the family.

Sugawara had insisted on naming the dog Cheeseball (despite the dog being a Bernese Mountain Dog mix), and Cheeseball was perhaps the second light of Sugawara's life. When he was home, most of his time was spent on the couch, you nuzzled into his side, and Cheeseball laying across both of your laps.

A year or two after Cheeseball joined the family, your first daughter was born. Despite giving Sugawara sass for his choices in names, the two of you ended up agreeing on Harumi, and it was spelt with the kanji for 'sunny'. She had been born at the crack of dawn, hence her name.

As Harumi grew up, it became more and more evident that she was a carbon copy of Sugawara, save for the beauty mark. Her hair was a silky silver and her eyes were a deep brown. She even had a personality similar to that of your husband's: bright, cheerful, and chaotic.

Your life with Sugawara was picture perfect. Of course, of course, it all came crashing down.

It had happened while you were pregnant with your second child. Right after the ultrasound that revealed the baby's sex, no less. You had wanted it to be a surprise, so the technician had told Sugawara. Once the two of you got home, you nestled into your usual spot on the couch and smiled at him sweetly as Cheeseball hopped up and rested his head on your lap.

"Kōshi," you began, your voice dripping with honey, "can you do me a big, big favor?"

He returns your sweet smile with a knowing look, giving you a soft snort before responding. "Yes, my love?"

"I'm really craving cake right now." As if to prove your point, your stomach chose that moment to grumble rather loudly. "And I was thinking, maybe you could get a blue cake or a pink cake for the baby?"

He ruffled your hair before walking towards the entrance of the house, the car keys jingling in his hand. "I'll be back shortly with your sex reveal cake," he called out. The sound of the door slamming shut followed soon after.

You took a quick look at your phone to check the time -- 11:29am -- before turning the TV on to watch something while you waited for Sugawara to return. One hand stroked Cheeseball's soft fur while the other manipulated the remote to try and find a movie or show that piqued your interest.

After settling on a TV show about forensic psychologists and criminal profiling, you found your attention rapt by the show. After watching several episodes, Cheeseball barked. The sound of a door opening indicated that someone was home, and your brow began to furrow after Harumi entered the living room.

"Where's Papa?" Harumi asked, setting her backpack down on the table. Her silvery hair was in two pigtails, a bright gleam in her eyes. "He said he'd tell me if I'm gonna be a big sister or a big brother!"

You chuckled lightly at your daughter, patting the spot on the couch next to you. Another quick glance at your phone revealed that the time was 2:37pm -- four hours since Sugawara had left for the grocery store to get a cake. Anxiety began crawling its way through your system, heading for your heart.

"I don't know where he is," you told your six year old. "I asked him to go to the store and get cake to celebrate finding out! And, you're going to be a sister regardless of what the baby is. We get to find out if you're getting a new sister or a new brother."

Harumi nodded, hanging on to your every word. "I knew that," she huffed. After a brief period of silence, she added a tentative: "Maybe you should call Papa?"

"Good idea," you replied, kissing the top of her head before unlocking your phone and making your way to your contacts. As your finger hovered over the call button next to Sugawara's name, the home phone began to ring.

The anxiety that had been making its way through your body suddenly sank its claws into your heart. No one ever called the home phone. The only reason Sugawara even insisted on one was because it fit his idea of the perfect house. Standing up on shaky legs, you made your way over to the TV stand, picking the phone up from its cradle. You didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" you asked quietly, cursing the slight tremor in your voice. Your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest, roaring in your ears -- you wouldn't be surprised if whoever was on the other end could hear it.

"Is this the Sugawara household?" the strannger questioned.

You recognized the voice almost instantly -- it was Daichi Sawamura, one of Sugawara's closest friends from high school. All it took was those five words for your world to start breaking apart.

"Hi, Daichi," you whispered. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting Harumi's big, brown eyes as she looked at you curiously. "Um, this is the Sugawara household, yes. If you needed something, you could've called my cell. Is everything alright?"

It took a tremendous amount of effort for you to speak in an even voice, to try and seem like you didn't know the next words that were going to come out of the phone.

You heard Daichi take a trembling breath from the other side of the phone, and you tried your best to steel your nerves for whatever he was going to say. Cheeseball chose that moment to get off the couch and pad over to you, as if the dog was aware of what was about to happen. Before Daichi even spoke, you found that tears had begun to stream down your face. "Sugawara -- no, Kōshi -- was in an accident." Another deep, shaky breath. "He didn't make it."

When you officially received the news, it had taken every ounce in you not to fall to your knees. Instead, you expressed the terror coursing through your veins by placing a hand underneath your small-but-noticeable baby bump. "Thank... thank you for telling me, Daichi." You placed the phone back in its cradle, not willing to wait for his response.

The hardest thing in your life was breaking the news to Harumi. How does one tell their child that their faither's never coming home again? How do you explain death in terms that a six year old will understand?

The sobs that tore from your daughter's throat when you told her moments later broke your heart even more. Beyond the pain in your chest, you felt numb, as if what was happening was happening to someone else, as if someone else's husband died on the way back from the grocery store with a blue cake in the passenger seat, as if it were a scene in a movie that you were watching.

You had slept in your once-shared bed that night, longing for the feeling of Sugawara's weight making the mattress dip beside you. You tossed and turned, and sleep didn't come until Harumi had made her way into your room. "Mommy, I can't sleep."

You sat up straight in the bed, holding your arms open for her. "Come here, then," you whispered into the dark room, watching her vague form clamber onto the bed before nuzzling into your chest.

You finally fell asleep with your daughter in your arms.

PRESENT

After that first night without him, you had gone through the motions. Harumi had insisted on going to school, saying something about not wanting to break her routine and "get stuck in the sad." For a six year old, she was wise.

You had covered the shrine in your house with white paper and closed its doors. You had set up a small table next to Sugawara's side of the bed, adorning it with his favorite flowers and jasmine-scented incense. You had called a temple, both grateful for and disgusted by the lack of emotion in your voice when you scheduled your husband's funeral service.

You're now standing next to his coffin, watching as people who knew your husband mill about the temple room. Harumi's by your side, her hand tightly gripping yours. You spot the familiar orange of Hinata's hair, the broad frame of Tsukishima, the angular jaw of Daichi. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest as you notice the three of them approaching you.

You find yourself wondering, in that moment, what it must've been like for Daichi -- your husband's closest friend -- to not only find Sugawara in the car, but to have to report it to you. You watch as his features mold into a soft, sad smile. Tsukishima and Hinata have similar expressions on their faces.

The three of them each hand you one of many black envelopes you've already received, and you hand them to Harumi. You watch as she scampers off to place them with the rest, that silky silver hair of hers flowing freely behind her.

"How's she handling it?" Daichi finally asks, breaking the silence. Hinata and Tsukishima seem to take this as a sign, offering you their condolences before retreating back into the crowd. Your eyes don't miss the approaching form of your husband's other close friend, Asahi Azumane.

"She didn't want to stop going to school," you reply after a few moments. "She said it was because she didn't want to get stuck in her sadness."

"Wise kid," Asahi comments as he finally reaches the two of you. "May he rest in peace." He tilts his head towards Sugawara's coffin before nodding at you.

You nod in return, engaging in mindless conversation with the other two. You listen as they reminisce over their shared experiences in their high school volleyball club and watching their underclassmen become world-famous pros. You listen as their words flow in one ear and go right out the other. Before long, the wake begins in earnest. The priest goes to the front of the room and begins reciting a sutra, and you and Harumi place incense in the urn a total of three times.

The rest of the day passes in a blur.

That night, you're in your much-too-big bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep stays a fair distance away from you until Harumi reappears in your doorway, around the same night she's done it every time. She nestles into the comfort of your arms, and you can feel the soft rise and fall associated with her breaths.

"Mommy," she says softly in the dark. "I miss Papa."

As if to make up for all the emotions you hadn't felt since his passing, the grief and the guilt come crashing down. You're suddenly too overwhelmed to speak, instead opting to hold your daughter tighter. She returns your squeeze with one of her own, being mindful of the bump of your stomach.

"Do you think my new brother will look like him?"

It takes you some time to trust your voice to speak. "I hope so," you manage to whisper. Harumi doesn't respond, and you can tell that she's fallen asleep.

At the end of the funeral on the following day, you watch as Sugawara's friends place a variety of flowers around his head in the coffin. You watch as Asahi lifts your daughter up with ease so she can add some flowers of her own. Your eyes follow their movements as they close the coffin and nail the lid shut with a stone.

You're grateful for the presence of Sugawara's family at the cremation afterwards, thankful for the steady hands of his parents as they assist you in picking the bones out from the ashes. You're thankful for Asahi and Daichi as well, since they've taken it upon themselves to babysit Harumi while you're preoccupied with this.

You, along with Sugawara's parents, walk towards the temple's lower rooms with the urn holding his remains in your arms. You're the one who places the urn in the small box. A small screen next to the locker-esque grave turns on, and your husband's face smiles at you brightly.

A sob escapes your throat, and tears begin to stream down your face. Sugawara's mother echoes the sentiment as the photo of her son shines brightly in the otherwise dim room. You take shaky, gasping breaths as the photo stares at you before you turn on your heel and leave.

AFTER

It's been several months since his passing. Your baby bump has only grown in size, and you're met with ferocious kicks at every time of day.

During the day, Harumi goes to school as normal. At night, she no longer tries to sleep in her own bed before coming to yours, instead opting to just start the night off in your bed. You find that sleep overtakes you with more ease when your arms are wrapped around your daughter.

It's not long before the sharp, stabbing pains of labor overwhelm you one day while you're at home. Daichi had forced himself to be on your phone's speed dial ever since you told him about the baby boy's kicking, and he is who you call when the time between contractions dwindles from hours to minutes, when the contractions themselves start lasting longer and longer. He's at your door quickly, ushering you into his police car and using the sirens to clear traffic. In between the bursts of pain, you find yourself wondering if it's legal.

When the two of you reach the hospital, you tell him to go get your daughter from the school before you're whisked away by the nurses. As your labor progresses and the baby's closer to being born, you hear Harumi's excited voice from the hallway. It's at this point that the door is closed so you can focus on your task at hand.

Within several hours, your new son is born. The sound of his cries echo throughout the small hospital room, and you watch as the nurses clean him up and wrap him in a soft blue blanket. They hand him to you before one opens the door and beckons for those who are waiting to come in.

Sugawara's parents enter along with yours after Harumi dashes in. She's at your bedside in seconds, jumping on the balls of her feet out of excitement. Your breath catches in your throat as the light shines on her silvery hair, your heart stinging at just how much she looks like Sugawara.

"Mommy, mommy, what's his name? Have you given him a name yet? Can we name him... can we name him Cheeseball?"

Your own mother laughs in response to that as your father picks Harumi up off the ground. "You can't name him Cheeseball," he says, "that's the name of your dog!"

Their conversation fades out of your focus as you gaze down at the little bundle in your arms. The faint hairs lining his forehead are the same shade as your own. You softly rub his nose with your finger, and you watch as his grubby arms escape the blanket and grab at your digit. His name comes to you with ease.

"Hi, Koji," you whisper.

[lighthouseshepard]

a while back i was wondering if anyone would ever be interested in some original fiction stuff and. at least one of you said yes dhfjjf. so heres a tiny snippet from a story concept thats been floating around in my head for some time now, and im finally starting to come back around to it again!

"You've started having dreams," Ansa says. It was a matter of fact statement, not an inquiry. He taps his foot thoughtfully on the cement, cane still held in his other hand. "Not all bad, I’m guessing, but they leave you unsettled."

Micah nods slowly, partially aware of a tightening in his chest. 

"Yes."

"And you keep having these strange inclinations, almost like cravings. You want to be near the water?" 

"How did you-" Micah begins, but something in Ansa's eyes cuts him off. They had spoken briefly of their troubles with sleep before. He hadn't mentioned the pull, almost instinctive, to go to the beach late at night.

 "Don't worry. You're not the first."

 "Will I be the last?" he asks tentatively. 

Instead of an answer, Ansa looks up. The plastic shelter overhead for the bus stop had dulled and cracked from years of neglect. A single spider web fluttered in one corner, abandoned. Micah follows his gaze, studying the gentle swaying of silken strands in the breeze.

"My mother," Ansa says, moving to stare off at a point just past the dingy diner across the street, "used to tell me this bedtime story."

Micah raises an eyebrow. "Mhm." 

Cracking a smile, he knocks his cane against Micah’s leg. "Just listen. It was about a particular tree within a forest of other trees, who became too greedy. He wanted to grow taller than the whole of the forest allowed. He dug his roots deeper every night in secret, little by little, growing inch by inch. By the time the rest of the forest noticed, too slow to react and too drunk in infinite time as they were, he had grown too high to be brought back down.

 "But he couldn't stop growing. He got so tall he eventually crashed through the roof of the sky and broke a hole in the side of the world. All the air in the atmosphere was sucked out, killing the entire forest below."

Ansa is no longer smiling. The grip around Micah's ribs tightens.

"I've just heard the one about the big bad wolf." He makes a half hearted attempt at a nervous chuckle. "Were all your bedtime stories this morbid?"

In a blink, Ansa's laid back demeanor returns. "Moral of the story," he says, ignoring the question, "don't worry about the dreams. Don't dig any deeper. They'll go away eventually."

 After a moment’s silence, he gets unsteadily to his feet. "I'll see you around. And Micah?"

Micah gazes up, a question of his own on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t figure out how to ask. "Yes?"

 "Don't go near the ocean."

Ansa had disappeared down the street before he remembered what he had been meaning to ask all along: why was the reporter always waiting at different bus stops when the town never seemed to have any working buses? 

[azucaradamente]

"An autumn and spring love" Chapter 1

Story is mine, check it out on AO3, i'll update first there.

Tw: Dubcon, Older x younger, Teacher x alumn, bad english, NSFW, SH, Depression and other topics that might be triggering.

Summary:

High school. A fresh start. That's what Y/N Yamaguchi craved after years of homeschooling due to bullying. With her supportive twin brother, Tadashi, and the twin's best friend, Kei Tsukishima (who harbors a secret crush on her!), Y/N is ready to conquer Karasuno High.

But her journey takes a surprising turn when she joins the volleyball team as their manager. There, she encounters Ukai Kenshin, the charming coach who seems like the perfect gentleman. Older, experienced – surely he'll be the prince charming Y/N dreams of, right? poor y/n, little she knows what waits for her.."

Crash! A hard object smacked against my face, jolting me awake at 6:00 am.

"Ugh, Dashi! Why are you waking me up so early?!" I groaned, momentarily blinded by a light that flooded the room. "What's your problem?!"

Laughter erupted. I whipped around to see both my brother and Tsukishima doubled over, clutching their stomachs. Ignoring their snickers, I slumped back into bed. Pulling an all-nighter playing Minecraft with my friend Kenma, who was feeling down, wasn't exactly ideal preparation for this rude awakening.

"Wait... what time is it?" Panic clawed at my throat as I scrambled out of bed. Their laughter intensified.

"Took you long enough," Tsukishima wheezed between laughs. "Relax, you're not late. I'll wait downstairs." Yamaguchi tossed the comment over his shoulder as he exited the room.

How could I forget? Today was my first day at Karasuno High. Months had passed since classes started, but I'd been dealing with personal issues that delayed my enrollment. A knot of nervousness formed in my stomach. It had been a while since I'd been in a formal school setting, but I was determined to give it another shot.

Reaching for my shirt, I froze. Tsukishima still lingered by the doorway, seemingly frozen.

"Privacy! Get out!" I barked, launching a barrage of plushies at him. "Go bother Dashi! I need to get ready for school!"

"Okay, okay, sorry! Just… spaced out for a sec," he mumbled, shutting the door and fleeing downstairs.

"Stupid Tsukishima," I muttered. Starting my morning routine, I pulled off my shirt. But as I reached for my uniform, a wave of sadness washed over me. My wrists, usually hidden, bore the scars of past struggles. Tears pricked my eyes as memories of the past four years – those were really hard times for my parents, my brother and even Tsukishima – threatened to overwhelm me.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the present. The past couldn't be changed, but I could choose to move forward. Though it was a hot summer day, I opted for wearing a cardigan on top of the shirt. Dealing with unwanted questions and stares was the last thing I needed right now.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

After a few minutes I scrambled downstairs, a knot of nerves tightening in my stomach. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima stood by the door, their faces a mix of amusement and concern. My parents peeked out from the kitchen doorway, their smiles strained with worry.

"Ready to go, y/n?" my brother asked, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

"Almost," I replied, forcing a smile. My parents approached, their arms wrapping around me in a tight hug.

"You'll do great, honey," Mom whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And remember, if things get too much, just call us. We'll be here in a flash."

Dad squeezed my shoulders gently. "Don't be afraid to stand your ground," he said firmly. "And if anyone gives you trouble…" He left the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

I squeezed them back, a wave of gratitude washing over me. "Thanks, guys," I mumbled, wiping away a stray tear. "I love you both."

With goodbyes exchanged, I rushed out the door, catching up to Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. The summer sun beat down mercilessly, and I tugged self-consciously at the long sleeves of my uniform.

Tsukishima, uncharacteristically hesitant, shot me a sidelong glance. "How are you… really doing?" he asked awkwardly. We all knew the weight of his question.

I chuckled softly. "Tsuki, come on, you practically live at my house these days. You know I'm okay," I reassured him gently.

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Just checking. Though, it's a scorcher today. You sure about that long sleeve?" I sighed. "You know why I wear it, Tsukishima. Unwanted attention."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "Yeah, I get it. But listen, you shouldn't be ashamed. Besides, if anyone gives you trouble, I can shut them down fast. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be..." The last part was barely a whisper, seemingly meant only for my ears.

My brother grinned, stepping forward. "He's right, y/n. Thanks to Tsukishima, nobody messes with me anymore."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

We continued our walk towards the station, but a brightly lit convenience store caught my eye. "Hold on, I need some candy!" I exclaimed, dashing inside.

"Seriously? Candy at this hour?" Tsukishima muttered to my brother, who chuckled softly. They followed me in, both ending up chatting with the cashier.

As I emerged with my sugary loot, they were introducing me to someone new. "[Your Name], this is Ukai Sensei," my brother said. "He's our new volleyball coach. You'll be seeing him a lot now that you're the manager."

A hot blush crept up my cheeks. I mumbled a greeting, "Nice to meet you," without making eye contact with Ukai. I'd seen him around the convenience store before, and secretly thought he was cute. Now, face-to-face with him in this unexpected situation, I felt a wave of shyness.

Ukai's smile widened when he saw me. "Ah, so you must be Yamaguchi's sister, y/n? I've heard quite a bit about you." His voice was surprisingly gentle. "He's been a nervous wreck about your first day, gotta say, he's quite the caring brother." A chuckle escaped his lips.

My cheeks burned hotter than ever. Dashi had been talking about me with him? Did he even know I existed before? More importantly, did he think I was… cute? My train of thought was derailed by Tsukishima's voice.

 “we should get going, dont want to be late again “ he said grabbing me and my brother from the shoulder and pulling us outside the store.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The train screeched to a halt, jolting us back to reality. A wave of nervousness washed over me as we disembarked. The imposing school building loomed ahead, looking far larger than it probably was in my anxious state.

Two hands grasped mine – dashi and kei, their faces etched with silent encouragement. Their touch calmed the storm brewing within me. We walked towards the school gates with each step building a sliver of confidence.

Unfortunately, that feeling was short-lived. Upon arrival, I discovered that they wouldn't be in the same class as me. My heart sank. I was a self-proclaimed introvert, new people made my skin crawl, and it always took forever to feel comfortable around them so it was definitely going to be hard but Dashi had a plan. He assured me a few of his friends were in that class and I'd be okay. Trusting him, I walked in. The room fell silent. Everyone knew the new girl was the volleyball player's sister. Opting for the back of the class, my nerves churned. The last thing I needed right now was to throw up on anyone.

A few agonizing hours later, the bell finally rang. I met Hinata and Kageyama, Dashi's friends. They were a whirlwind of noise and questions, well-meaning but overwhelming. While I wasn't instantly best friends, they were slowly growing on me.

I spent lunch with Kei since my brother had to catch up with a school project, he kinda introduced me into the manager duties and right now we are walkint towards the school gym, Im scared, i dont know those new guys and they are probably taller than me... besides that Ukai is DEFINITELY going to be there.... what if I screw up? i've never been a manager before!

The gym doors creaked open, revealing a gaggle of expectant boys. Dashi definitely spilled the beans! Seriously, was he my brother or a walking megaphone? Before I could even blink, they swarmed me, a barrage of questions erupting like a popcorn machine. Anxiety clawed at my throat. I darted a helpless glance at Tsukishima, who was doubled over with laughter in the corner. Traitor.

I stammered out answers, desperately trying to keep up with their rapid-fire introductions. Just then, the doors flew open again. And there he was... Ukai Sensei! My cheeks burned. He looked way different outside of his usual uniform. Cute. Dangerously cute. Before I could even process it all, a hand clamped around my arm and yanked me away.

"Oi! Knock it off," Ukai barked, his voice surprisingly firm. "Don't scare her off on the first day. 25 laps around the court. Now!"

Tanaka and Nishinoya grumbled their complaints, but their eyes sparkled with mischief. They even muttered something about "being blessed with cute managers" On the other side, Tsukishima shot me an annoyed glare. Laps were his least favorite punishment. I couldn't resist sticking out my tongue and letting out a silent giggle at his expense.

Coach Ukai introduced me to Yachi and Kiyoko, both radiating warmth and kindness (and undeniably cute, now I understand Tanaka's words). They patiently showed me the basics, making a nerve-wracking day a little more manageable.

Throughout practice, I couldn't shake the feeling of Coach Ukai's lingering gaze. He seemed to find every excuse to approach me, sending butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The attention made me blush, but a voice of reason piped up. It was best not to get ahead of myself. He's the coach, and I'm a student... he could never pay attention to me... He was probably just trying to make my day better and make sure i was ok...

Practice finally wrapped up after what felt like an eternity. I started gathering my things, eager to join the guys on their way out. But Coach Ukai had other plans. "Why don't you get a head start on cleaning duty?" he suggested. "Good way to familiarize yourself with the routine."

Tsukishima, ever the helpful soul he is (lol), offered to lend a hand. Ukai, however, shook his head with a smile. "Don't worry Tsukishima, I can teach her, besides that im better at it so she will learn from the best"

A blush crept up my cheeks. Right. Probably best to keep things professional. Waving goodbye to the guys, I reassured them and Dashi would let ourparents know I'd be a little late. As the gym door shut behind the last teammate, a nervous giggle escaped my lips. Just me and Coach Ukai... cleaning the gym. This could be interesting.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

next chapter what happened at the gym, dont forget i also posted this on AO3 and ill update them there first before reposting here

[dayseternal-blog]

Hello DAYS8!

If you didn't know this will be the 4th question/rec I will have for you!

I only noticed this on NightOwl's story but I do wonder if you ever made a Naruhina recs centering around stories where it's narrated on Naruto's Perspective?

Now, now don't look at me like that okay? I do love when the story is in Hinata's perspective most of the time but reading fics where Naruto's the one feeling it and seeing the story unfold is a one of a kind thing and I know there's only a few stories or fics you will think of about this one. But I do hope you can find some fics though, I'm kind of craving for such fics these days.

I'm rooting for you to find a LOT hehe! Thank you DAYS8 and....

Please pray for me to finish my naruhina one shot! TT~~~TT Lol!

I hope you finished your one shot! Especially since it's been over a year since you sent this 😅

I don't know what face you're expecting from me? I love writing Naruto's perspective. A lot of other people do, too...

I think you're referring to

"Weird Hinata" by @nightowl27-writer - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Naruto thought Team 8 was out on a mission, so why is Hinata here in the middle of the night? And what is up with her new mission gear? How did she get a key to his place? Is she getting naked!?!? Who is this weird Hinata!?

I love that one! If you haven't read these yet, I think you'll love them, too, because they have that "Naruto feeling it" aspect you mentioned:

"Casual Touches" by @lunawrayth - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. It's the casual touches that do it.

“Misfired Attempts of an Uzumaki” by Transient Joy - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Happy Birthday Hinata! In an attempt to celebrate Hinata’s birthday, Naruto causes havoc along the way. At age 5 he pushes her down a hill, at age 9 he almost poisons Hinata and gifts her weeds, and age 13 was a failure. Can Naruto make it right this time? Or will everything crash and burn in it’s wake?

Chapter 32 from “Between the Trees” by @utsus - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. NaruHina Prompt: (because it was hot as heck here today) how about NaruHina and bathing suits.<3

“Call Her Mine” by @peppercornpress - Rated G, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Post-war NaruHina one-shot. Naruto is NOT oblivious in this.

“The Red Scarf” by peppercornpress - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Just two people who realize how they feel for each other. That’s it.

and not to be conceited, but I think you'd like the ones I wrote if you haven't read them yet:

“Nightdreams” - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war.

“Tell Me of Forevers” - Rated T, High School AU, Two-shot. Delinquent Naruto is trying to change himself for the better.

Mostly/Only Naruto's POV

“Heart-Shaped Sticky Notes” by the point - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Naruto’s life had always been spontaneous, always going and doing something. It’s good, then, that Hinata’s able to give him some stability in the little notes she leaves for him. But one day, there is no note. Suddenly, Naruto’s life doesn’t make sense.

Untitled for NHMonth 2015 Day 5  by @flowerslut - Rated G, Canon-Compliant (?), Short one-shot. Prompt: Laughter.

Untitled for one-wayward-girl by flowerslut - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Short one-shot. Prompt: Naruto seeks out Hinata after the fight with Pein.

“Flipped” by @cajuncherrybee - Rated G, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. In which Naruto is the blushing mess and Hinata is the oblivious one.

“Common Side Effects” by katarinahime - Rated E for a lot of things, Crime/Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto and Hinata, in a struggling relationship, must confront the pain inside before they can love each other.

“Music” from “Naruhina Week 2017” by @hinatamyqueen - Rated T for language, Modern AU, One-shot. It’s Sakura’s birthday, so as per tradition, she gets to force Naruto and Sasuke to do whatever she wants to do.

Untitled by @jadeandonyx - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. Prompt: 4. teacher/single parent au + 5. one night stand and falling pregnant au

“The Forever Girl: Naruto’s Story” by @cherryjutsu​ - Rated G, Soulmate AU, Two-shot. The feeling of watching everyone around you grow old and die, while you stay young, is something that can never be forgotten, that is, until love finds you.

“The Ramen Booth” by @chloelapomme - Rated E, College AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Years have passed since her unanswered confession in intermediate school, since his humiliating hazing incident in high school, since blossoming popularity drew their attentions away from each other. Yet time has only sharpened friendship into painful longing, even as their time runs out with the approach of the university fundraiser. Can 7 Minutes in Heaven at a crazy flat party be enough time to clear the air between old best friends?

"In-laws" from "Some Type of Love" by chloelapomme - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. "Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday Then make a lotta love on a Monday"

"Thunderstorm" from "With You in the Future" by chloelapomme - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto fought against the odds for most of his life. However, today, he goes where the wind decided to lead him; Hinata’s arms. and "Dirty Little Secret" and "Promises" from WYITF

"August - Cultures/Around the World" from "Still Falling For You" by chloelapomme - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. "Diversity is not about how we differ. It is about embracing one another's uniqueness" - Ola Joseph

“Powerless” by bunny-hoodlum - Rated E for a lot of things, like depictions of violence and character death. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. His family’s past can’t be taken at face-value, and it comes clawing back to hurt him in ways that are out of his control.  DELETED FIC.

A good deal of "Postscripts" by WaterRolls is in Naruto's POV - Rated T, Canon-Divergent / Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. Mostly humor but will have occasional drama. Slice of life, romantic fluff, family bonding, what-ifs, AUs, angst.

"Permission to Engage" by WaterRolls - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Our romantic leading man tries to propose, but things just don't go the way he plans.

"Resolution" by WaterRolls - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. On a mission with Sai and Rock Lee, Naruto reflects upon his relationship with Hinata, then a brush with death and an encounter with a stranger leads him to make a decision.

WaterRolls writes a lot in limited 3rd Naruto's POV, so go through her profile.

"Lessons" by utsus - Rated T, College AU, One-shot. Prompt: Class president Hinata and delinquent Naruto.

“Chapter 5″ from “Between the Trees” by utsus - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Prompt: Can u do an angst prompt where hinata gets rlly hurt and naruto gets rlly mad and ends up crying in front of the kids? maybe an old enemy please?

“Chapter 6″ from “Between the Trees” by utsus - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Prompt: Can you do one where they are in battle can be sometime before they have kids or after but hinata is close to dying (still survives) and naruto freaks out and tries to help her u know what I mean??

Several one-shots of Between the Trees by Utsu is in Naruto's perspective.

“Day 22: Technology” from “A Love Story Like Never Before” by @journalsofagoddess - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. It was the same feeling he always got when she left on missions. He felt useless that he wouldn’t be able to be by her side to protect her from everything and anything. But he was here now and he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. He promised.

"Drunk in Love" by @wickermayne - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto and Hinata's wedding night.

"Fill" by wickermayne - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. “I was thinking, Naruto-kun, now that I’m fully settled in, living with you…I was thinking that we should try.”

VulgarAssassin/Wickermayne writes a lot with mostly Naruto's pov, so if you don't already read his stuff, you should! Mostly smut.

“Tainted and Possessed” by cafrye017 - Rated E, Demons/Angels AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto, enslaved by the Sanctified for his Forsaken blood all his life, learns that he holds a power great enough to one day change the system, but he’s not on this journey alone.

“101 Ways to Make Hinata Hyuuga Faint” by Keidra369 - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto finds out early on in the academy that he has an amazing talent. He can make Hinata faint! Now he is determined to find all the ways to make her faint. Starts in academy years and ends sometime in their married life.

“Picture Frames” by Forever_in_Your_Heart - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. They say it’s healthier to give up, but he is Uzumaki Naruto and he never gives up. (Can’t. He can’t, not this time)

Untitled by @jadeandonyx - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. Prompt: 4. teacher/single parent au + 5. one night stand and falling pregnant au

“If You Said You Loved Me” by destiny’s sweet melody - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, One-shot.  Naruto begins to realize he took her feelings for granted and now he’s too late.

“Ravenous” from “NaruHina Month December 2022” by @sessakag - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. “Hinataaaa,” Naruto pouted, leaning inside the open bathroom door, “you ready yet? I’m starving!” and "Can You Read My Pain?" and "Turning Point" and "A Drunk Mind Speaks a Sober Heart" and a bunch of others in NHM2022.

Sessakag also writes a lot in Naruto's pov. If I go through linking every one-shot, I'd be here all night.

“Down the Rabbit Hole” by @vegebulsoup - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. Despite his protests, Jiraiya takes Naruto out to a hostess club for his birthday and it’s not quite what he expected.

That's a lot and there's way more, but I'm kind of tired now 😅 in any case, if you've read the people who are active here on Tumblr, including my own stuff, you'd find a lot of NaruHina fanfics with limited 3rd Naruto's perspective.

Happy reading!

[scekrex]

Hello! Can I request episode 8!Adam x Cannibal!Riader, where he is one of the ones protecting the hotel (Primarily to eat, obviously). At that moment, when Nifty pierces Adam with a dagger, Reader takes him to himself, first to eat him, but then, imbued with this angel, decides that a living Adam is better for him than a dead one. At the same time, Reader himself continues to joke about how one day he will eat his flesh :)

(I would like to apologize in advance for my English, I am still learning and therefore use a translator)

Okay first of all: you don't need to apologize for your english sweetface, you're doing great okay? And second I'd like to apologize that it took me so long to write it.

A kingdom of torment that never dies

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, canon typical violence, cannibalism

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The smell of divine blood hung in the air, a smell you surely would not be able to forget. The golden liquid had painted the ground and while the corpses on the ground were tasting so much better than sinner flesh, it wasn’t giving you the rush you had expected to get out of it.

That was until your hand grabbed a hold of one of the flying angel’s ankles, a firm yank brought the woman crashing onto the ground. Your body was running on autopilot, high off the smell of divine blood and the sight of your next meal. The angel was screaming, trying to kick you. Her weapon was out of her reach, she had dropped it before her face had met the ground due to the surprise and shock your attack had caused. She flapped her wings, desperate to get away from you, but none of it worked out.

Fear had filled the creature’s eyes, but there was no mercy left inside of you, not when you felt so hungry. Your body’s instincts were strong, too strong for you to fight them off so the only thing you found yourself able to do was to give into them and feast. Your teeths unk down into the angel’s flesh, the scream that tore from her throat and sounded like her vocal cords were ripping apart sounded dull to you, muffled even. Every sound that was made sounded like your ears were filled with cotton, the only clear thought in your mind was that your body craved food more than anything. You were hungry, oh so desperately hungry and the taste that filled your mouth as you bit a chunk of flesh out of the angel’s leg which you had pulled up close to your face, leaving the winged creature dangling upside down, was truly something different. The angelic corpses tasted delicious already but feasting on one of them while she was still alive? That truly was somethíng different, it gave you the rush you had hoped for, made you feel like the king of the world.

But then her foot met your face, the impact was hard and sudden which caused you to stumble backwards a little. Your hand slipped from her ankle and she managed to escape - oh what a shame that your food got away. It was only then that you realized that the angels were not reforming, they were leaving. The portal to heaven shone bright on the blood red sky and you watched as your new favorite meal seemed to retreat. Your eyes drank in your surroundings. The hotel was destroyed, when did that happen? The angelic corpses on the ground were slowly dragged away by the other cannibals and just as you were about to grab one yourself and leave, you spotted the gleaming golden wings of their leader - so that was why they suddenly had been eager to leave Hell. Charlie and her friends had managed to take down their leader, without him the army seemed rather useless.

So before any of your friends was able to claim the first man, you made your way over to the golden winged creature to claim him as yours. You were aware that a cold corpse would taste less good than a warm one, yet you wanted to enjoy the taste and pride that came with eating the first man and therefore you decided to take him with you.

His blood smelled different from the others - no matter if dead or alive. He smelled tainted, impure and yet still angelic and divine enough to be roaming Heaven’s realms. Something about their leader was different, not only his smell but also the fact that his heart was still beating, you were able to hear it like a drum.

Beat - silence - silence - silence - beat - silence - silence - silence - beat.

It was slow, weak and struggled with pumping blood through Adam’s body due to the amount of wounds his body suffered from. If he would continue to bleed in the way he did, the tall angel would bleed out in no time. You knew that those pure creatures tasted better alive so you made sure to press fabric to his wounds in order to stop the bleeding - and surprisingly that worked better than you had thought it would. The bleeding stopped rather quickly despite the fact that a dagger had been pierced through his chest multiple times - a thing that made you wonder if the angelic healing process worked any different from the sinners’.

-

Dragging this gigantic creature home had been quite the struggle but you had managed it nonetheless and now he was resting in your bed, fogging the air inside your apartment - and probably the air outside of the building you were living in too - with the delicious smell of his blood. Oh how you craved to eat this man right then and there. But alive this man would be worth more - maybe enough to get you noticed and seen. He was the first man after all - he surely would attract attention and with attention a higher status would follow. So keeping him alive was the smarter decision long term wise.

A grunt came from the brunette - it was almost inaudible but your ears had picked the sound up despite that. Your head snapped to the side, eyeing as the first man slowly sat up in the bed he was resting in his hand reached up to hold his head in pain, he was seemingly feeling dizzy, not that you were able to blame him, he had lost quite a lot of blood.

“What the fuck?” the angel asked quietly, talking to himself, as his palm covered his chest. His chest, which was still covered in blood. A deep and hungry sounding chuckle vibrated through your body as you leaned towards the first man, making yourself noticeable, “A creature as fucking sweet as you might end up eaten after all.”

[coconut-cluster]

Logan has never regretted his decision to move off campus after freshman year. He lived in a dorm that first year, by requirement from the university - something about finding a community and getting used the campus, i.e. paying thousands more in room and board on top of tuition to fill the university's pockets - and sure, he'd been excited about it, to some extent. He met Patton and Roman and Virgil from the experience, and he'd gotten lucky with a room that looked out over the forest that surrounded the campus, much to his delight. It certainly could have been worse. But he was an only child who grew up with an entire townhouse mostly to himself - he needed his space. One can only stomach communal bathrooms for so long.

He was on his own when it came to financing an apartment, but after rooming with Patton for a year already and crunching the numbers of his scholarship reimbursements, it was the only logical option. Patton's eye for decorating and his own proclivity for Excel-spreadsheet budgets made the transition smooth, almost comfortable. He's never looked back.

He does, however, regret getting an apartment so damn far from campus.

By the time he's finished with editing the latest batch of articles and desperately craving caffeine, it's late evening, the sunset hidden by trees and a storm rolling over the hills outside his window. He pauses at his desk and hears the distant crash of thunder - it's perfect weather for coffee in front of the window-nook Patton's carved out with pillows and bookshelves. He could brew a pot now and be cozied up before the rain starts.

Patton's in the kitchen, though, with a singsong medley of dishes and off-key humming to the radio that drifts down the hall to Logan's room. Patton never minds company, but Logan minds the loose-limbed energy of Patton's cooking. Too many potholders to the face would put anyone on high alert. Besides, it's Thursday.

It's Thursday, and Logan chose an apartment light years away from campus, so he has to start driving now if he wants to catch the end of the evening shift.

Patton shoots him a bright smile as he cuts through the living room, raincoat and umbrella in hand.

"Going out?" he calls over the radio. Before Logan can answer, he glances at the calendar hung by the breakfast nook, and his smile colors with knowing. "Oh, Solipsis night. Get me a hot chocolate?"

Logan grabs his keys with a nod. "Cinnamon?"

"Yes sir-ee. Be safe on the roads, it's gonna come down real soon." Logan gives another nod, and just before he closes the door, Patton calls out with that knowing grin, "Give Jan a kiss from me!"

Logan slams the door before he can react.

-

Solipsis is, in many ways, a college student's approximation of paradise. It's on the historic main street of the city, where all the buildings are entresol-style and made of old brick - the café sticks out against a row of random university offices, shedding golden light onto the street through a big window with its name painted in big, blocky letters. It's got two levels, connected by a winding metal staircase; the first floor stretches deep into the building, lined with big, oaken tables for study groups or impressive spreads of journals and textbooks and laptops. The second is a smaller loft, dotted with round tables where solo students hole themselves up for hours at a time in relative silence. The whole place is covered in hanging plants and warm bauble lights - it's ridiculously easy to forget how late it is when everything is golden and set to indie folk music. It's a genius business venture in a town full of exhausted college kids.

("It's pretentious," Janus insists, frequently. "Unfinished oak with iron stairs, I mean, Jesus, really? And calling it Solipsis- you can tell it's owned by some uppity philosophy student."

"You're an uppity philosophy student," Logan reminds him every time. He does not remind him that he willingly chose to work there in the first place.

Janus just rolls his eyes. "At least I've got taste.")

Regardless of taste (or lack thereof), Solipsis is a hotspot. Logan steps in just as evening thunder starts a steady beat outside, hardly surprised to see most of the tables occupied by students in various states of distress and exhaust.

Roasted coffee and rain mix as he takes a deep breath past the doorway. Behind the counter, a lone barista mans the espresso machine, pushing stray hairs out of her face and eyeing him like she'd rather he walk right back out the door than up to the counter. He pretends to read the sandwich board of specials and simply waits.

A moment later, the door to the back room flips open and Janus bustles over to the register, arms full of paper cups in neat towers. He ditched the black jacket he'd worn to class for the cafe's uniform apron, with the sleeves of his sweater - as they rarely are - pushed up to his elbows, baring his wrists, where the beaded friendship bracelet Patton made for him years ago sits. His face is set in a focused frown as he sets to restocking the counter.

Logan waits a moment longer at the specials board, giving Janus a minute to finish a stack before he ambles up to the register. Janus looks up - his hair is pushed back in a hurried swoop, a very Roman style that he's picked up in recent months - and the frown gives way to a familiar almost-smile.

"Oliveira," he sighs, grabbing two cups from the fresh stack and scribbling shorthand on their sides. "Come to harass me yet again in my place of work. Never a day's reprieve from your antics."

"I didn't say anything yet," Logan deadpans as he pays, "and I don't think ordering drinks at the ordering-drinks-establishment counts as harassment."

Janus tils his head with a saccharine smile. "You're so creative."

The barista working at the espresso machine takes the cups from his hands, pulling milk and syrups out with practiced speed, still eyeing Logan with thinly veiled disdain.

Janus joins her in mixing the drinks as Logan idles by the counter, with no one else lined up behind him to prompt movement. After a moment, Janus returns to his cup stacks, moving to restock the empty spots on the back wall. Logan eyes the clock above his head.

"You're here late," he comments, and Janus glances back before following his gaze to the time with a grimace.

"I agreed to stay a half hour longer," he says with an unmistakable air of regret. "They had a new hire close last night, and he majorly screwed up waste inventory- surprise, he wasn't trained before they stuck him on the shift, no clue how that happened." The other barista snorts. "Anyway, the manager opened this morning and lost their shit, said they're really cracking down on the closing checklist being done perfectly, whatever the hell that means. I stayed behind to get as much started for Freya as I could before I head out."

The other barista - Freya - looks completely dead-eyed at the prospect of closing, but she sends Janus a small smile regardless.

"Of course, the one night I stick around is the night it starts pouring," Janus huffs. It storms more than the sun shines here, but Logan just nods sympathetically, glancing out the window to find the rain has started up with a crack of lightning. He looks back as Freya slides two drinks across the counter to him, flashing a practiced, split-second smile in response to his nod.

He eyes Janus for a moment, blowing into the little hole on the lid of his drink to cool it down and listening to Janus' barely audible grumbling about his hair and his shoes and his forgetting an umbrella, somehow, until Logan pipes up, "Do you need a ride?"

Janus pauses - grumbling and stacking - and shoots a frown over his shoulder. "You drove here?"

"I always do, if I'm not coming from campus," says Logan. He gets a blank stare in return. "It's too far to walk from my apartment."

Instantly, cup stacking is no longer Janus' top priority. He turns to face Logan again, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Freya swiftly takes over his task, sending a furtive glance at them as Janus studies him. "You drive here every week?"

"Yes."

Janus stares at him, really stares. "There's, like, five coffee shops near your apartment."

"Six, actually." There's even one on the first floor of his apartment building. It's stuffy and the coffee is always burnt. Cheap, though.

"You could walk to any of those."

"I suppose."

"Why are you wasting gas to come all the way here?"

"It's not a waste," Logan frowns, and Janus' eyebrows shoot up.

"Our coffee's not that good, Oliveira. I promise you can get a mint mocha at the place on 3rd-"

"I like your coffee."

Freya, now refilling lids, shoots a very overt, smug glance over her shoulder at Janus, but he doesn't look away from Logan. The lighting in the café is dim near the counter; Logan must be imagining the pink flush on Janus' face.

"My coffee," Janus repeats.

"Your coffee," Logan says with a nod, and Janus gets that same blank stare as before, uncomprehending. "The way you make it. It's not the same at other cafes." He lifts his cup, pushing the sleeve down with a small smile. "And other baristas don't do this."

Janus' eyes fall to the heart doodled under Oli, and the pink on his face deepens to a pretty red.

"Well," he putters, uncrossing his arms to smooth his apron, then crossing them again, then picking at a loose thread on his sleeve that conveniently tears his attention from the cup. Logan holds it up still. "They might, if you spent all your time bothering them at work. It's not my fault you've chosen me as the target of your idle drivel."

"Oh, of course." Logan entertains the idea of teasing him - there is this barista at the café in my building, they asked for my number once, I guess I could bother them - but instead he just sips his drink and watches Janus with a little smile. "I just prefer Solipsis, I suppose."

Janus unties his apron with a huff. "You're annoying."

"Very creative."

"Shut up."

He disappears into the backroom before Logan can respond, emerging a minute later with his bag and coat in hand. Freya waves goodbye as he stalks out past the counter and up to Logan. Like every Thursday - every Solipsis trip before, coffee in hand and Janus off work and the walk to his apartment a trip Logan silently insists on making with him - he's acutely aware of the stray hair falling in Janus' face, the pink still lingering under his freckles, the smell of coffee and caramel on him.

"Driving here in a storm just to torment me is ridiculous," Janus says, significantly more composed than before, haughty once more, "but lucky for you, walking home in this weather would be more ridiculous. So I will grace you with my presence and take the ride home."

Logan raises his eyebrows. "Oh, but I thought I was annoying-"

"I will steal your car."

"...Come on."

(Living so far off campus, at least, gives him this exchange to look forward to.)