#I AVOIDED FULL ON MUSICAL SONGS AND SONGS I DID BEFORE

[undressrehearsal]

dare to fuck this up

summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing

a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance

part 1

You hadn't talked about it. 

You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch. 

You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you? 

The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet. 

That had been three weeks ago. 

For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice. 

At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach. 

Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked. 

And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her. 

Fine. 

If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her. 

Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks. 

You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder. 

“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.

So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air. 

“What the hell are you-” 

You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor. 

She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor. 

And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered. 

So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”

And the game began. 

Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped. 

Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”

She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it. 

“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?” 

And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs. 

You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.” 

Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure. 

You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup. 

It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway. 

Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed. 

Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.” 

You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. 

Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.” 

You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake. 

The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably. 

“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die. 

There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut. 

You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. 

You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated. 

You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy. 

You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.” 

“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.” 

You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something. 

Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly - 

Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.” 

When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away. 

This was definitely Hell. It had to be. 

When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste. 

When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things. 

Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief. 

“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago. 

But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.” 

So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention. 

So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.” 

“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again. 

You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.” 

“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. 

You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.” 

You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.” 

You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.” 

Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?” 

Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.” 

You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’” 

You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!” 

You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.

Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again. 

And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth. 

For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”) 

And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened. 

But the clock kept ticking. 

After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”

“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.” 

Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you. 

“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh. 

Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth. 

And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.” 

A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering. 

Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-” 

You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it. 

But this was too important to ignore. 

“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth. 

Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break. 

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.” 

Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.” 

And it was the lack of care that broke you. 

You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?” 

“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?” 

Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart. 

It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.” 

You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?” 

“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.” 

And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. 

You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.” 

You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft. 

“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.” 

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?” 

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers. 

“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away. 

“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.

Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-” 

“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”

She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.” 

“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.” 

She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.” 

Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper. 

“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.” 

Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.” 

You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek. 

“What do we do now?” 

When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.” 

Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….” 

“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin. 

You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest. 

Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”

“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?” 

You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream. 

Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her. 

Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart. 

The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out. 

It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head. 

Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.” 

She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.” 

You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there.  You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.” 

You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” 

Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.” 

When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan. 

Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” 

She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise. 

You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck. 

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.” 

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.” 

You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either. 

Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch. 

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” 

Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her. 

This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue. 

But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face. 

“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you. 

If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.

Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips. 

You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it. 

You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel. 

You loved revenge. 

But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile. 

So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.

When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst. 

Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants. 

When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster. 

The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?” 

Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise. 

Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?” 

You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple. 

You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit. 

The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged. 

Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together. 

You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place. 

You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer? 

A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed. 

You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.” 

You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world. 

You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely. 

She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off. 

“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans. 

You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth. 

Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg. 

Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you. 

“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.” 

“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.” 

“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….” 

You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness. 

“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.” 

Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers. 

“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.” 

She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?” 

You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.” 

She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear. 

Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly. 

It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips. 

When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart. 

Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now? 

Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.” 

Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before. 

Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?” 

You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?” 

[starsjulia]

shattered dreams // leah williamson

a/n : i long angsty one i wrote a while ago, enjoy!!!

warnings : angst, pregnancy, essential tremor.

Essential tremor, also called benign tremor, familial tremor, and idiopathic tremor, is a medical condition characterized by involuntary rhythmic contractions and relaxations of certain muscle groups in one or more body parts of unknown cause.

---

The early summer sun streamed through the open window of their cozy London flat, casting warm rays across the room. Y/N sat at the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys as she played a melody she’d been working on for weeks. The notes filled the room, rich and vibrant, each one flowing seamlessly into the next. It was a song she had written for Leah, capturing the love and joy they had found together.

As she sang the chorus, Y/N’s voice soared, filling the space with a sound that was uniquely hers—strong, emotive, and full of life. She could hear Leah moving around in the kitchen, humming along to the tune, and the familiar rhythm of their daily life brought a smile to her face. This was her happy place, where everything felt right with the world.

But as she reached the final verse, something strange happened. Her voice wavered, the note faltering as if it had lost its strength. She frowned, adjusting her posture and taking a deep breath before trying again. But the same thing happened—her voice quivered, not with emotion, but with something she couldn’t quite place. Frustration bubbled up inside her, but she pushed it down, chalking it up to a rare off day.

Shaking her head, Y/N moved her focus back to the piano, her fingers gliding over the keys. But now, the familiar movements didn’t feel as smooth as they usually did. Her hands seemed to tremble slightly, causing her to hit the wrong notes. She stopped playing, staring down at her hands as if they belonged to someone else.

“What’s wrong with me?” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as if to clear away the strange sensation. She flexed her fingers, trying to rid them of the slight tremor that seemed to have taken up residence there. But after a few moments, it faded, and she convinced herself that it had just been her imagination.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Leah noticed the frown on Y/N’s face and the way she kept flexing her hands as if they were bothering her. “Everything alright?” Leah asked, her voice full of concern.

Y/N hesitated, unsure if she should mention the odd experience from earlier. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

Leah gave her a look that said she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she reached over and took Y/N’s hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of guilt for not being completely honest. “I know,” she murmured, squeezing Leah’s hand back. “It’s nothing, really.”

But as the days went on, the symptoms didn’t go away. The tremor in her hands became more frequent, and her voice seemed to waver more often when she sang. There were times when she couldn’t hit the high notes that had always come so naturally to her, and it felt like her voice was slipping through her fingers like sand. She started to avoid singing certain songs, fearful of hearing the cracks and wobbles that had begun to plague her.

Y/N tried to hide her growing anxiety from Leah, not wanting to worry her. But Leah noticed the way Y/N would stare at her hands in frustration, the way she hesitated before picking up her guitar or sitting down at the piano. Y/N’s passion for music, which had always been the most vibrant part of her, seemed to dim slightly, and Leah’s concern grew with each passing day.

One afternoon, Y/N was in the studio, recording a new song she had written. As she strummed her guitar, she felt the now-familiar tremor in her fingers. She tried to ignore it, focusing on the music, but when she went to sing the chorus, her voice cracked and wavered so badly that she had to stop.

“Damn it!” she cursed, yanking off her headphones and tossing them onto the console in frustration. She sat there, breathing heavily, her mind racing. This wasn’t just nerves or tiredness—something was wrong, and she couldn’t deny it any longer.

Leah had been listening from the control room, watching through the glass as Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She pushed open the door, walking over to where Y/N sat, her face pale and her hands trembling.

“Y/N,” Leah said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We need to talk.”

Y/N looked up at Leah, her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “Leah… I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t control it… my hands, my voice… it’s like they’re not mine anymore.”

Leah knelt beside her, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “We’re going to figure this out,” she said firmly, her voice steady even as worry gnawed at her heart. “But first, we need to see a doctor.”

Y/N nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. Deep down, she had known for a while that something was wrong, but hearing Leah say it out loud made it real in a way she hadn’t wanted to face.

---

The visit to the doctor was tense, both Y/N and Leah filled with a mix of dread and hope. The doctor ran a series of tests, his calm demeanor doing little to ease their anxiety. Y/N sat on the exam table, Leah’s hand firmly in hers, as they waited for the results.

When the doctor finally returned, his expression was serious, and Y/N felt her heart drop. “Y/N, the tests show that you have what’s known as essential tremor,” he said, his voice gentle but direct. “It’s a progressive neurological disorder that primarily affects your hands and voice. Unfortunately, it’s likely to worsen over time.”

Y/N stared at the doctor, her mind reeling. “My hands… my voice… what does that mean for my music?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor sighed, clearly aware of how devastating this news would be for her. “It will become increasingly difficult to perform fine motor tasks, like playing instruments or writing. As for your voice, the tremor can affect your ability to speak and sing clearly. We can explore treatments that may help manage the symptoms, but there’s no cure.”

The room seemed to close in around Y/N as she struggled to process the information. Her music—her life’s passion, the thing that had always been her solace and her joy—was being stolen from her, piece by piece. She felt Leah’s grip on her hand tighten, but it couldn’t chase away the growing despair in her chest.

“And the pregnancy?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking as she placed a hand on her stomach. “Will it… will it affect the baby?”

The doctor shook his head. “The condition shouldn’t have a direct impact on your pregnancy or the baby’s health. But as the tremor progresses, it may affect your ability to perform certain tasks, like holding the baby or caring for them in the way you’re used to. It’s something you’ll need to consider as you prepare for motherhood.”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes, the weight of the diagnosis crashing down on her all at once. “But I… I won’t be able to hold my baby? Or sing to them?” she whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Leah’s own tears finally broke free as she wrapped her arms around Y/N, pulling her close. “We’ll find a way,” Leah said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

But Y/N couldn’t hold back the sobs that tore through her. The future she had envisioned—of playing lullabies for her child, singing them to sleep, holding them close—was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

---

In the weeks that followed, Y/N and Leah tried to adjust to their new reality. Y/N began working with a therapist to manage the tremors and explored different medications to help control the symptoms. But it was an uphill battle. Every day brought new challenges, new reminders of what Y/N was losing.

The joy of their pregnancy announcement, which should have been one of the happiest times of their lives, was overshadowed by the relentless progression of Y/N’s condition. As her hands grew more unsteady and her voice more fragile, Y/N found herself retreating from the things she had once loved. She avoided the piano, left her guitar untouched in its case, and stopped singing around the house.

Leah watched Y/N’s light dim, her heart breaking for the woman she loved more than anything in the world. She did everything she could to support Y/N—attending every doctor’s appointment, helping her with daily tasks that had become increasingly difficult, and constantly reassuring her that they would find a way to make it through this.

But no matter how hard Leah tried to be strong, there were moments when the weight of it all became too much. Late at night, when Y/N was asleep, Leah would slip out of bed and sit alone in the living room, her head in her hands as she silently cried, overwhelmed by the fear and uncertainty of what lay ahead.

---

One evening, as Y/N sat on the couch, absently rubbing her belly, Leah joined her, sitting down and taking her hand. “How are you feeling?” Leah asked softly, her thumb brushing gently over Y/N’s knuckles.

Y/N sighed, leaning her head against Leah’s shoulder. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to be the mother I want to be… that I won’t be able to hold our baby, or sing to them, or… or be there for them the way they need me.”

Leah’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Y/N’s voice, and she wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” Leah said, her voice filled with conviction. “You’re so full of love, Y/N, and that’s what our baby is going to need more than anything. We’ll figure out the rest together, I promise.”

“But what if I get worse?” Y/N whispered, her fear breaking through. “What if I can’t… what if I lose my ability to even hold them?”

Leah’s grip tightened, her own tears spilling over. “Then I’ll hold them for both of us,” she said fiercely. “We’ll adapt, we’ll find ways to make it work. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. We’ll do this together, just like we’ve done everything else.”

Y/N nodded against Leah’s shoulder, though the fear still lingered, a dark shadow that refused to be banished. But Leah’s words, her unwavering support, were a lifeline Y/N desperately needed. She wasn’t alone in this, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to help her find a way forward.

---

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Leah began to find a new rhythm, though it was far from easy. Every day brought new challenges, new reminders of what Y/N was losing, but they faced it together, holding on to each other through the darkest moments. Y/N started working with a therapist, learning how to manage the tremors as best she could, and finding new ways to express herself through music, even if it wasn’t the same as before.

One day, after a particularly difficult session with her therapist, Y/N came home to find Leah sitting at the piano, softly playing one of Y/N’s old compositions. It was a song Y/N had written early in their relationship, filled with the joy and hope of new love. Leah’s fingers moved clumsily over the keys, and Y/N could see the concentration on her face as she tried to play the familiar melody.

Y/N stood in the doorway, watching Leah’s awkward attempts to recreate the music she loved. And despite everything, she felt a small, fragile smile tugging at her lips. Leah looked up, catching sight of Y/N, and immediately stopped, blushing slightly.

“I was just… trying to learn,” Leah said, looking a bit sheepish. “I know I’m not as good as you, but I thought maybe… if you couldn’t play, I could learn and play for you and the baby.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, and she crossed the room, sitting beside Leah on the piano bench. “You’re amazing,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

Leah smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N’s temple. ��We’re a team, remember?” she said softly. “We’ll find our way through this, no matter what.”

And as they sat there, side by side, Leah’s clumsy notes filling the air, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope return. Their future might be uncertain, and there were still so many fears to face, but they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

---

As Y/N’s pregnancy progressed, the reality of her condition became more and more apparent. Her voice grew increasingly unreliable, and the tremors in her hands worsened. Simple tasks, like cooking or writing, became difficult, and Y/N often found herself needing Leah’s help. It was frustrating and heartbreaking, but Leah never once wavered in her support.

One evening, as they lay in bed, Y/N felt the baby kick for the first time. She gasped, grabbing Leah’s hand and placing it on her belly. “Leah, did you feel that?” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

Leah’s eyes widened as she felt the tiny movement beneath her palm. “I did,” she whispered back, her voice full of wonder. “That’s our little one.”

The baby kicked again, and Y/N laughed through her tears, the sound filled with a mixture of joy and sadness. “I just… I want to be able to hold them, Leah,” she said, her voice breaking. “I want to be able to take care of them, to sing to them… but I’m so scared I won’t be able to.”

Leah wrapped her arms around Y/N, holding her close. “You will hold them,” she said fiercely. “You will take care of them, and you will sing to them, even if it’s not the way you imagined. We’ll find a way, Y/N. We’ll do this together.”

Y/N buried her face in Leah’s shoulder, clinging to her as the reality of their situation threatened to overwhelm her. But Leah’s words, her unwavering support, were like a beacon in the darkness, guiding Y/N through the fear and uncertainty.

---

As the months passed, Y/N and Leah prepared for the arrival of their baby. They attended birthing classes together, decorated the nursery, and talked about their hopes and dreams for their child. But beneath the surface, the fear of the unknown lingered, a constant companion that they could never quite shake.

Y/N’s condition continued to progress, and there were days when the tremors were so bad that she couldn’t even hold a cup of tea without spilling it. Her voice, once so strong and beautiful, had become shaky and unreliable, and she struggled with the loss of something that had always been such a fundamental part of her identity.

But through it all, Leah remained steadfast. She learned how to care for Y/N in ways she had never imagined, adapting to their new reality with a determination that only made Y/N love her more. And in those quiet moments, when it was just the two of them, Leah would remind Y/N that they were in this together—that no matter what happened, they would find a way to make it work.

---

The day finally came when Y/N went into labor. It was a difficult and exhausting process, but Leah was by her side every step of the way, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement. When their baby was finally born, the sound of their tiny cry filled the room, and Y/N felt a wave of emotion crash over her.

The nurse carefully placed the baby in Y/N’s arms, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Y/N stared down at the tiny, perfect face of their child, her heart overflowing with love and awe. She had been so afraid that she wouldn’t be able to do this, but in that moment, all she could think about was how much she loved this little person in her arms.

Leah sat beside her, tears streaming down her face as she looked at their baby. “You did it,” Leah whispered, her voice filled with pride and love. “You’re incredible.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, looking up at Leah. “We did it,” she corrected softly. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Leah reached out and gently stroked the baby’s cheek, her heart swelling with love for her family. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, Y/N. I know it.”

As Y/N held their baby close, she felt the weight of her fears start to lift. Yes, her condition would be a challenge—there was no denying that. But in that moment, she knew that she could do this. They could do this, together.

And as she looked into the eyes of their child, Y/N made a silent promise. No matter what the future held, no matter how hard things got, she would be there for them. She would love them with everything she had, and she would find a way to be the mother they needed.

Because at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. And with Leah by her side, Y/N knew they could face anything.

---

Time passed, and life with their new baby became a mix of joy and challenges. Y/N’s condition continued to progress, and there were days when it was incredibly difficult. But they found ways to adapt, to make it work. Leah learned how to support Y/N in ways that allowed her to be the mother she wanted to be, even if it wasn’t exactly how they had imagined.

And through it all, Y/N never stopped singing. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it used to be, and there were times when it would shake or falter, but she sang anyway. She sang lullabies to their baby, softly and gently, her love for them pouring out with every note.

Leah would often join in, her voice blending with Y/N’s in a harmony that was imperfect but beautiful in its own way. And in those moments, as they sang together for their child, Y/N knew that they had found a new kind of music—one that was born out of love and resilience, one that would carry them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

They faced their future with hope and determination, knowing that no matter what came their way, they had each other. And that, in the end, was enough to keep them moving forward.

Together.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then fall

Aeron Bracken x Reader

Disclaimer: I wrote this for my sister who happens to love the wee pretty Bracken, Taylor Swift and Baby's Breath flowers. Please let me know if you'd like a second part.

Description: Aeron and Y/N meet as children and are quickly inseparable. Circumstances separate them until they meet again as adults and Aeron is immediately infatuated, but believes his feelings to be unrequited.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Final Part

Warnings: female reader. Mention of insecurities over traditional gender norms. Extremely inexperienced fanfic writer. A truly heinous amount of Taylor Swift references if you don't listen to her music. Specifically Enchanted, Mary's Song, Peace, Jump then fall, and All of the Girls You've loved Before

Aeron found his eyes wandering back to Y/N, as they ceaselessly did whenever he knew she was near, drawn as a moth to firelight. He watched the satin fabric of her dress shift as she weaved through the gathered throng of lords and ladies, the tendrils of her hair sway as she pushed it carelessly over her shoulder, her face alight in a gentle smile that had his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He watched as she came to a stop in front of her father, handing him the goblet of wine that had been the purpose of her venture across the hall, that had her brushing so close to him that he could smell the faint perfume of gardenias woven throughout the braids in her hair. He had steeled himself against stopping her in an attempt to engage her in conversation, but had been unable to avert his traitorous eyes from her entirely, try as he might.

So lost in simply gazing at her was he that he was startled when her eyes abruptly met his own, a sign he must surely have been gawking rather than discretely stealing glaces as he had oft found himself doing of late. A full moon had passed since they had been reintroduced as adults grown, an absence of 10 years separating them from the friendship of their youth. His Lord uncle had sought to present her father to him as a loyal bannerman, returned from years of service to the crown spent in Kings Landing to support the Bracken cause against  the Blackwoods. His words fell on deaf ears for instantly his focus was drawn to the young lady arm in arm with her father, her eyes as familiar to his heart as his own, despite the progress of time.

Enchanted by her delicate beauty and the sweet smile she directed towards him, it was her easy humour and immediate enthusiasm to engage him in recollections of their childhood that saw him falling into a chasm he knew he could not, or did not want to, prise himself from. Since that first look he had found himself entirely unable to look away. Nevertheless, he presently averted his gaze to the walls of the Great Banquet Hall, desperately focusing on tracing the elaborate designs on the Bracken Stronghold's golden tapestries. The light tread of footsteps he could instantly recognise as belonging to Y/N sent his heart racing as they brought the object of his senseless and surely unrequited adoration ever closer to him.

Time seemed to stop as he watched Y/N walk towards him, frantically trying to gather his thoughts so that he might string a coherent sentence together. Stopping a pace in front of him Y/N beamed up at him. "I trust you are having a pleasant evening good knight." Returning her smile nervously with one of his own he bowed his head respectfully despite their difference in status. "Indeed my lady, and I trust you are enjoying your evening?"

He was pleased that he had not stuttered at least but his tone was rigid and overtly formal when he had known hers was lightly teasing, most assuredly so as her face fell slightly. "We were once friends. I should like to be so again should you allow." Her expression was hopeful and he regrettably took note of an underlying semblance of hurt. Had she noticed his self- imposed isolation and avoidance of her and thought it a reflection of some sort of infraction on her part? That had not been his intention, rather he had hoped to avoid strengthening feelings he believed to be unrequited.

Before he lost his courage entirely he replied "I should like that as well." Y/N's face lit up once more, her eyes shining brightly under the glow of the candles that lit the hall. "Good, then may I prevail upon you to meet me under the Brackentree on the morrow?" Aeron wanted to throw all sense of caution to the wind just for the moment to acquiesce to her request. What harm could there be, he could surely manage a friendship with her at least could he not? And he found himself steadfastly agreeing "Should it please you."

The next day Aeron found himself waiting for Y/N under the golden Bracken tree that was their old haunt. A cold mist had settled over the land and the grass glistened with fresh morning dew. The sun cast an amber glow that warmed him as he waited, silently anticipating the light tread of Y/N's footsteps. Spotting her at a distance yonder they exchanged shy smiles as he walked to meet her halfway. "My lady" Aeron began before Y/N cut him off "You know I am no Lady."

"You are to me" Aeron interrupted, growing in boldness. Her eyes snapping to his, Y/N softly spoke "Just y/n please."

"Y/N then." Her name left his mouth, solemn and with a reverance he hoped she could not hear in his treacherous voice, though he could. "Thank you Aeron" she replied, grinning up at him then. He had heard her speak his name many times in their youth but no prior instance had such an instant affect on him. To hear it now stirred in him a feeling of contentment so intense he felt his mouth part in a silent gasp of shock, quickly schooling his features in case she caught him gawping like a fish. He followed her gaze back to the Bracken tree, it's conflagration of red and yellow leaves lightly fluttering in the gentle breeze.

"This used to be our tree, I remember it fondly. Do you?" Her question struck him as tinged by an air of insecurity. Did she think he could so easily forget her or the happiest period of his childhood, spent playing at knights taking turns to craft tales of dragons and princesses, the Targaryen dynasty being an object of great fascination to them both. "I remember it well" he assured her, prompting y/n's soft smile.

The Bracken tree held a special significance for them both, having been the place of their first meeting. Aeron had been a boy of four and ten, ambling about his Lord uncle's lands on a warm summer afternoon when he had come across Y/N, a girl who could not be more than ten years old, clinging to a branch high up in the tree for dear life, her knuckles white from her grip, her eyes tightly shut. Aeron could not understand how this girl could have found herself in such a precarious situation, immediately sparking his curiosity and so he called up to her. "Good day young miss."

The girl's eyes snapped open, startled and then at once hopeful. "I wish that I could wish you good day but it does not feel so. I find myself in a bit of a scrape, I am stuck you see." "I do indeed see, and how did you come to find yourself in such a scrape?" He called back, slightly amused by her defeated tone and the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Promise not to laugh."

"I promise." He was not sure he could promise in truth but he was eager to hear how the girl had come to find herself in her current predicament.

"My cat got itself stuck up the tree and I climbed up to retrieve her. As soon as I reached her she climbed back down, which is when I realised I was afraid of heights...so now I'm stuck."

Aeron could not stop the laugh that left his lips but quickly quieted as Y/N shot him with a savage glare.

"You promised not to laugh" she pouted and even as a boy he could not help but want nothing more than to see her smile instead.

"Apologies my lady, I will assist you if I can" he exaggeratedly bowed with a flourish and a hand to his heart in the hopes of amusing her.

"Do you think you can climb back down?'"

The girl looked briefly down and immediately shut her eyes, shaking her head frantically.

"No, I don't think so."

Slowly walking up to the base of the tree he held his arms out.

"You must jump then. I will catch you."

He tried not to let her scoff and look of raw panic and disbelief insult his dignity too much.

"But I'll fall."

"Yes..into me."

"What if you don't catch me and I snap my neck?"

"I assure you form that height you could break an arm but certainly not your neck. And I have promised to catch you."

She studied his features for what seemed like an age but could only have been a few seconds, seemingly trying to gauge his sincerity before she started to loosen her grip and raise herself into more of an upright position, legs dangling over the edge of the branch she rested upon as she firmly grabbed the trunk of the tree.

'"You're sure you can?"

"I don't see that you have another option" Aeron teased raising his arms higher up towards her.

Breathing deeply through her nose she nodded.

"OK, I trust you."

When she jumped Aeron caught her as promised, the momentum of her fall causing his arms to shake briefly before he readjusted his hold and lowered her to the ground, maintaining a grip on her elbows to steady her. He caught her gaze as she looked up at him in what he thought was a mix of awe and gratitude, or perhaps simply relief at no longer being airborne.

"You caught me."

"I promised you I would."

"Y/N"

"What?"

"My name is Y/N. What's yours?"

"Aeron Bracken, ward of Lord Bracken."

The young girl's eyes widened for a moment before she replied.

"Thank you for rescuing me. Would you like to meet here tomorrow and I can show you my cat. The one that got me stuck?"

A few years her senior, her response was that of a child seeking a friend. Used to being overlooked in his own home, having lost his parents at a young age and growing up under the gaze of a rather stern uncle whose expectations he never seemed to meet, Aeron found his heart warmed by Y/N's offer of friendship.

"Should it please you."

Stalking off immediately towards his home he could not know that the two of them would become inseparable from this first meeting. The two would meet daily at the Brackenwood tree to pour over tales of knights and stories of Targaryen dragon riders. Otherwise they would invent quests that would see them running about the Brackenwoods until the sun began to set. But they could often be found simply sitting comfortably in silence together, a level of intimacy Aeron had failed to find with another. Two years later y/n's father was called to serve as a knight at the Red Keep in Kings Landing, taking Y/N with him, despite her protestations, and Aeron could not but suspect his Lord uncle had been involved in their parting, having persistently chided him for neglecting his duties to amble about the Brackenwood with a girl he viewed of no importance.

Aeron's thoughts were sharply brought back to the present as Y/N suddenly turned away from him and abruptly began to walk downhill away from their tree and towards the Brackenwood. His brief moment of surprise at the suddenness of her actions was short lived as with a glance back in his direction he realised she meant him to follow her. His height advantage allowed him to catch up to her in  few long strides before he slowed his pace to match hers. Aeron felt her shoulder lightly brush his arm and it was as if he had been struck by a lightening bolt and he glanced down to see how close the rocky terrain had brought them.

Instilled with an uncharacteristic surge of confidence at Y/N's clear lack of discomfort a their proximity he lifted his arm out towards her. "May I offer you my arm, the terrain is uneven and you are like to trip in your skirts." Levelling a sweet smile at him that he felt sure could rival the light of the sun and had him thanking the gods for mustering up a semblance of courage to offer in the first place, Y/N gently entwined their arms, lightly placing her smaller hand on his bicep. "Thank you good knight, you are most chivalrous." Her tone was familiar and jesting, but Aeron rejoiced to see a light blush grace Y/N's cheeks.

For the first time Aeron began to hope that perhaps his feelings were not unfounded, that he could hope to find them reciprocated in time. The intensity of his infatuation with Y/N had always been matched only by his assurance that his feelings could never be returned. Y/N was beautiful and kind, always so patient and with an intelligence and wit that had her consuming his every waking thought. Whilst his Lord uncle's heir by virtue of his uncle having no living son, he felt what he believed to be his deficiencies acutely.

He had but recently been appointed a knight, he was all too aware that this honour was not bestowed upon him on account of any great swordsmanship or feats of courage on his part. Aeron was tall and while lean he was not without strength or any skill with the sword. But it was his preference for exploits of the mind, his propensity to while away the day in his uncle's library rather than in the training field that separated him most definitively from the other Bracken knights. At the crux of the problem, however, was his introverted and shy temperament that had plagued him since childhood and had him stumbling over his words whenever Y/N was nearby.

He had convinced himself that he could never deserve Y/N and resolved to keep his distance, exchanging few words and replacing the words he wished he could speak to her with fleeting glances across a Banquet Hall. How could he, in good faith, present himself to her as an option when she surely sought a match that would grant her protection and security, whilst he could barely muster up the courage to meet her gaze now as upon entering the Brackenwood she began to speak of her purpose for their current course?

"I apologise for unceremoniously dragging you into the woods, I do recall there used to be a bushel of baby's breath flowers to the east of these woods. I was quite fond of them as a girl and should like to gather some, there is no such flower in Kings Landing."

"I remember, my lady."

"Aeron" She scolded.

"My apologies...Y/N."

"You remember?"

"I do, we walked this path often to gather your flowers. I distinctly recall you proclaiming yourself the Princess of Brackenwood and myself your sworn protector to guide you safely through the woods." Aeron found himself slipping into the playfulness that had characterised their childhood friendship the longer he was in Y/N's presence. Her resounding laughter had his heart soaring.

"Ah, so you do indeed remember. I had feared you'd forgotten me entirely. We have barely spoken since I returned to the Riverlands."

"Of course not!" He quickly protested but paused when he spotted her own playful grin and he realised she was just teasing him.

"It appears that in my great wisdom even as a girl you were well appointed for I never came to any harm in these woods with you by my side. Though I am no princess and am surely in no need of a sworn protector I am most grateful for your company now."

"I would still keep you safe" Aeron assured Y/N for that was something Aeron was at least most certain of. He tried to keep his tone light, enjoying the levity of their current course of conversation and not wishing to derail it.

"Why thank you good knight" Y/N laughed, briefly turning her head to rest it lightly on his shoulder before retracting it once more. Aeron's heart soared at the unexpectedly affectionate gesture, wishing she would lean into him again.

They walked in silence for a time, but it was not an awkward and uncomfortable silence Aeron had feared. Instead it was one of two people who understand one another, filled by a sense of familiarity and shared intimacy. Y/N had never bristled at his quiet and reserved nature before and Aeron was struck by the realisation that mayhaps he had been wrong to expect her to do so now as a woman.

Coming across the broken trunk of a tree they had often sat upon, taking turns to read to one another from the books Aeron would spirit from his Uncle's library, Aeron lowered his arm from Y/N's. Jumping lightly over the trunk he proferred his hand to help her over the obstacle. The feeling of her warm, soft hand placed atop his own had him forgetting himself entirely. Looking down at her hand delicately placed on his he suddenly felt sure that hers was made for his, their hands intertwined and all the stars aligned. Realising he had been holding her hand longer than was strictly necessary, he cleared his throat, tucking her arm back over his to continue their progress.

"Aha" Y/N delightedly removed herself from his grip to traipse over to the object of their quest. Content to just watch her as she happily began to gather up the flowers she had always favoured so much, Aeron stood off to the side until it became obvious that Y/N could no longer contain the copious amounts of flowers she had gathered within her arms. Stepping forward he called to her "Can I be of assistance? You can deliver them into my arms." Y/N paused to consider, then promptly deposited half of her loot into his arms. "We shall both carry them, my mother too will be most pleased."

As they set their path for the return journey Aeron hoped and prayed to the gods that they would not come across his friends, who would surely laugh at him for his current state, or god forbid the Blackwood hooligans that terrorised the Bracken borders. His long hair and delicate features, combined with his lack of interest in becoming a fierce warrior had been the grounds for Blackwood insults previously and an armful of flowers would surely provide ample fodder for those craven scoundrels. Even so, he was certain it would be worth it, just to be at Y/N's side. A newfound confidence rose in him. He may not ever be a fearsome warrior but he could yet be brave. He would set aside his insecurities, his fears, and he would win Y/N's affections for himself if he could.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Your date--or non-date--with Eddie was ruined when he dodged your kiss. Or...was it? (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, drunkenness, making out, heavy petting, mentions of smut, mention of masturbation (m), idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

chapter eleven: undo, undone

He pulled away.

You leaned in for a kiss, and Eddie pulled away.

The full extent of rejection hadn’t even set in before you felt something cold and wet on your leg. An electric blue liquid dripped down your shin, traveling in winding paths like veins. 

Haziness shifted into perfect clarity, flinging you into sudden and unwanted sobriety. The music was too loud, the dimmed lights still too bright. Every conversation was now too loud, the floor sticky beneath your Doc Marten-ed feet. 

When you mustered up the nerve to look at Eddie, you saw that he had fared even worse; his entire left pant leg was drenched and already reeked of gin and the cerulean syrup stained his sneakers. His eyes widened as he processed what had just happened, a startled deer in the headlights. 

“Oh my God; I’m so sorry!” 

The drunken apology snagged your attention, coming from none other than the woman who’d brutally massacred Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. She stumbled forward again, and whatever remained of her drink sloshed over the glass and onto the floor. 

Her lower lip jutted out into a pout and panicked tears welled in her eyes as she looked from you to Eddie. “Have you seen my boyfriend?” Her words were slurred; ‘seen’ came out as ‘sheen.’ “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I’ll help you find him.” Anything to get away from Eddie, to avoid the thundering question: Had he pulled back because of the spilled drink, or did he cause the spill by pulling away?

It had to be the latter. He probably regretted ever offering to celebrate your graduation and would spend the rest of the evening ruminating over how he’d inadvertently led you on. Was it dedicating a song to you? The dancing? 

Except…neither of those had been his idea. You were the one who insisted he sing karaoke. You were the one who asked him to dance. He relented to appease you, and you’d completely humiliated yourself by stretching his kindness past its platonic confines. 

The woman latched herself onto your arm with one gin-soaked hand and swiped at her cheeks with the other. Up close, she barely looked old enough to legally drink. “His name is Charlie.”

“Huh?” Her boyfriend. The one you were supposed to be locating. “Oh, right.” 

Eddie scrubbed his jeans with a wad of flimsy napkins, muttering under his breath when they left a papery residue in their wake. He grumbled something about the restroom before storming off in that direction. 

Your new drunk companion rested her head on your shoulder, permed hair tickling your neck. 

“What does Charlie look like?” The bar wasn’t big, not even by New York City standards, but having a general idea of who you were looking for would be a massive help. 

She just laughed softly, a joke only she knew, head lolling as she spoke. “Y’know…tall-ish. Blue eyes. Has, um, hair with a little woop thing.” Her palm mimicked an ocean wave. Just as you had predicted, the gesture provided nothing of relevance towards your search. 

You gritted your teeth in a forced smile. “Okay, right.” Sucking in a harsh breath, you led her to the bar and ordered two waters, practically shoving the condensation-frosted glass into her hand. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” It all came out as one word: Wheresyourboyfren?

“He’s not—” You shook your head; there was no sense in trying to explain the situation to a wasted stranger. “Bathroom.”

The girl’s droopy lids snapped open. “That’s where Charlie went!” She threw her head back and cackled, and you quickly roped an arm around her waist to keep her from teetering over in her too-high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. No wonder your boyfriend looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess.” Her mood rapidly shifted to one of ire as she threw out, “Bet he’d never leave you alone in this skeezy bar.”

Except he had left you alone in this skeezy bar—and he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

You could still feel his soft cotton t-shirt beneath your fingers, the way his curly tendrils of hair brushed along your hands. The gentle nose crinkle each time he smiled at you from the stage was forever etched into your brain. 

At what point did he realize he’d made a mistake? When did regret tarnish his good deed?

Tears pricked in your eyes as the weight of humiliation now set in. Your mascara would run, but who cared? It wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anymore. 

The TV above the bar flashed with the red and blue of police lights, the colors blurred by your own tears. You blinked them away just in time to read the closed captioning scrolling along the bottom of the screen. 

The frontman of an up-and-coming punk band once again finds himself in legal trouble. Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist for Death’s Echo, was arrested early this morning for disorderly conduct and public intoxication. 

The video showed a young man keeping his head down so his shaggy blond hair covered his eyes, his hands cuffed behind his back and rendered unable to shield his face.

This is not the first time Dalton has landed himself in hot water. Just last week, the troubled musician was arrested for allegedly driving under the influence; his court date is set for early next month. All of this erratic behavior has fans wondering how this could impact the band’s first world tour, set to begin mid-June.

A professional photo of Death’s Echo took up the entirety of the screen. There was Caleb Dalton, front and center, shirtless and brooding. To his immediate left and right were two other men, one incredibly tall and lanky with gleaming chains dangling from both his neck and the belt loops of his dark-wash JNCOs. The other was shorter, stockier, wearing a black tank top that was littered with holes. If Eddie’s recollections of swanky hotel rooms and impromptu helicopter rides were true, the holes must have been purposefully designed to heighten the band’s grungy look. 

But the member who snagged your attention was the only woman in the group. Her eyes, thickly rimmed with kohl and sheathed in a smoky shadow, bore into your soul. Blonde hair fell in jagged layers and framed a heart-shaped face, her crimson-painted pout simultaneously beckoning suitors to come hither and stay away. 

You imagined those lips on Eddie’s for half a second before your drinks threatened to make a reappearance. 

The report ended with the obligatory statement: “Dalton’s rep could not be reached for comment,” before shifting to the next story. 

Tongue firmly adhered to the roof of your mouth, you gulped down some water in hopes of ungluing it. In hopes of sorting out your thoughts, jumbled from embarrassment and the jolt of alcohol to your system. 

If Eddie had seen that…you couldn’t stomach the thought of him watching as his replacement’s lips subtly curled into a smirk as he was shuffled along towards the police car. That was the smirk of a man who knew he’d evaded the law before and would likely do it again. Fame and fortune certainly had their ways of tipping the scales of justice. 

The news would almost certainly usher in unwelcome memories of his hometown and the people who took joy in vandalizing his trailer. The people who continuously made his life a living hell and faced no consequences because of their pristine reputations and Eddie’s tarnished one. 

You shoved the information deep down and vowed to never let it bubble over. If Eddie found out on his own, that was one thing. But you refused to further ruin this evening for him. 

“Dianna?”

A man’s worried voice called out from the back of the bar, his sandy eyebrows pinched together as he scoped out the cramped venue. With his crisp button-down and khaki pants, he could be Eddie’s polar opposite. 

“Oh my god! Babe!” The girl yanked herself from your light grasp. You realized that you hadn’t known her name until that moment, though there was a decent chance she wouldn’t even remember it if you’d asked. She stumbled over to the man—Charlie, you assumed—whose concerned expression dissolved into relief the moment she flung her arms over his shoulders. 

Charlie pulled her close and let out an extended sigh. His jaw relaxed, lips pressed to her temple as his frenetic energy tapered and his heart rate slowed. “Scared the shit outta me, babe.” He murmured against her ear. “Why didn’t you stay at the table?”

Your heart ached at the way he held her close, a precious commodity that he would protect with his life. Would Eddie ever touch you like that? Would he leave protective kisses all along your shoulders, nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck? Would he panic if he thought something happened to you?

If his rebuff of your kiss was any indication, it was highly unlikely.

Dianna shrugged. “I wanted to get another drink, but then I spilled it all over her boyfriend,” she said, pointing to you. 

Charlie looked in your direction as though seeing you for the first time. “That explains the guy standing at the sink, washing his pants.” His fingers sifted through the blonde curtains that flopped right back to his forehead, adding to no one in particular, “Dude looked pissed.”

Your stomach roiled, whiskey and vodka burning at the base of your throat. Between your unwelcome advances and Dianna’s drink snafu, Eddie’s good deed was far from unpunished.

The urge to empty the contents of your stomach only heightened when you imagined the look of utter disgust Eddie must have worn when you leaned in for that kiss and the embarrassment he felt on your behalf. A man bought you a drink, obliged your request for a dance to a mediocre karaoke rendition of a song, and you took that as some grand romantic gesture? Pathetic. 

It was just another way that you let people down. 

Eddie’s expectations of a night out with a platonic friend. 

Mom and Dad’s expectations of you taking over the motel. 

Your own expectations of Eddie secretly harboring romantic feelings for you, strong enough to shine through the cloud of insecurity constantly surrounding you. 

Once again, you were a disappointment. 

The room’s walls began closing in, filling your lungs with wet sand that clung to the muscle and made breathing an impossible task. A fuzzy film blurred your vision and warped the room until it was utterly unrecognizable. 

Air. You needed fresh air and to get far away from this godforsaken bar. A wave of heat crashed over you again and again, dousing you in your own perspiration and keeping your feet pasted to the floorboards. 

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t—

“Heiress?”

Eddie’s voice shredded through anxiety’s haze, his worried tone bursting the bubble with a violent pop. The world began shifting back into place, your mind floating back down in reluctant reunion with your body. 

“Hey.” Strong palms clasped your trembling shoulders. He leaned in to ensure you heard him over the pulsing music. “Let’s get outta here, okay?”

Your response was a meager nod. His fingers glided down your bare arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, as he took your hand and led you outside. The burst of night-chilled air was a sweet nectar; your bones drank it up like a delicacy. 

Diaphragm loosening, you took one shallow breath, then another that rested a bit deeper in your chest. You anchored yourself in the moment until you once again recognized the subtle press of your lungs against your ribcage. 

Home. You needed to get home. 

Peering down to check your watch, you realized that Eddie’s hand still clutched yours. The pad of his thumb traced lazy lines along the skin between your thumb and forefinger, steady as a heartbeat. 

“It was getting kinda crowded in there, huh?” It was said entirely for your benefit, you knew: Eddie was accustomed to packed arenas and sold-out stadiums. 

Another nod. “Y-Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it t-to be…” That was the whole reason why you’d suggested a Monday night, but Karaoke Night must have brought in an influx of new customers. Couple that with the end of the Memorial Day weekend, where people didn’t want the party to end after the family barbecues wound down, and you had the perfect recipe for an overcrowded bar.

Eddie dug into his back pocket as the two of you began walking back towards the motel, procuring a dented box of Camels and his trusty lighter. His eyes, illuminated by The Brink’s dim neon signage, flicked over to yours. “Is it cool if I…?” He raised the cigarette, pinched between his pointer and middle finger, unlit until you gave your approval.

“S’fine.” You watched his thumb glide over the sparkwheel, igniting a tiny flame. The scent of burning tobacco wafted off of the end of his cigarette, the wind blowing a curl of smoke in your direction. 

He waved his hand to ward it away from you. “Sorry,” he mumbled. When he took another drag, it happened again. “Jesus Christ. Here.” Tucking the cigarette between his lips, he planted his feet behind you and placed both hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. Electricity crackled beneath his touch, his fingertips the lightning and his voice the gentle rumble of thunder.

Stop it, you reprimanded yourself. He dodged your kiss. You can’t be thinking this way anymore.

He sidestepped to your right, the breeze now carrying the smoke away from you. Another deep inhale had the flame ripping through the paper, ash building up on the cigarette’s tip. The flakes floated down and decorated the tops of his sneakers in a gray snow. A warning sat on your tongue, hampered only by the cool dampness suddenly touching your bare leg. 

Eddie grimaced at the way you stumbled and stepped away slightly so the wet denim no longer pressed against your skin. “I got most of the drink out, I think. It’s just soap and water at this point.” 

You stopped again, stooping down and pinching the fabric of his jeans between two fingers. The scent of gin still clung to him, though not as strongly as it had immediately following Dianna’s spill. Or maybe it was just the tobacco’s heaviness that overpowered it. That damn cigarette, so smugly perched where you longed to be. 

“I’m doing a load of laundry tomorrow,” you managed, shaking off the remaining thoughts of Eddie’s lips as you carefully stood up. The last thing you needed was dizziness spinning you to the ground. “I can throw these in with my stuff, if that’s okay.”

Eddie grinned. It was the first glimmer of happiness you’d seen from him since asking him to dance.

“Trying to get in my pants, Heiress?”

Your feet caught beneath you. You dug your heels into the pavement to steady yourself, sending up silent praise to whatever omnipotent presence kept you from falling flat on your face. 

If he was joking with you…he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t unnerved by your attempt to kiss him. 

You invited relief in, just enough to loosen a retort from your arsenal. 

“Don’t make me rescind my offer,” you quipped back. “And in the meantime, I’ll just tell people you pissed yourself.”

Eddie quirked up an eyebrow. “On the outside of my leg? I can see why you studied psychology instead of anatomy.”

There was nothing you needed to focus on less than Eddie Munson’s anatomy right now, the way it might feel against your own, within your own. Not when the ship had only just begun steering down the right course again. 

“That girl found her boyfriend, by the way. Or, he found her, I guess.” It was the first subject your brain latched onto. When Eddie’s reply was a confused stare, you hurriedly elaborated. “The girl who spilled her drink on you.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He flicked some more ash from his cigarette and took another wistful drag. “This whole night was a blur.” 

You forced yourself to choke down the insecurity that had lodged itself in your throat. “Rockstar can’t mix liquor like he used to?” You tutted disapprovingly. “Maybe you’re getting a little rusty. Out of practice.”

“Please.” He scoffed, snuffing out the cigarette on a brick wall. “Did you see my moves tonight?”

You certainly had. Each hip swivel, each pelvic thrust was firmly etched into your memories. And then there was the way he’d danced with you, leading with the confidence of an order but the tenderness of a suggestion. 

“Fair enough,” you conceded. The fresh air was working wonders; you stood a bit straighter as you continued walking alongside him, your footsteps in time with his own. “I still can’t believe you sang Elvis.”

“Me either.” Eddie laughed through his nose. “I was going to sing something Ozzy-adjacent, but then I saw Heartbreak Hotel and figured it fit better with, y’know, our whole thing.”

Our whole thing. An invisible and intangible thing, but he felt it, too. Felt it enough to acknowledge it aloud. 

A smile blossomed on your lips. “You were easily the best one up there. Singing, dancing…all of it.” Flattery embedded in truth, you noted the tips of his ears tinging red. 

“I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a dancer.” He chuckled, hand swaying out just enough to find purchase on your back and pull you an inch closer.  

You swallowed back desire and forced yourself to focus on anything but the press of his fingers against your spine. “N-No future career in Elvis impersonation? Or ballroom dancing?” 

“Nah.” Eddie shook a stray curl from his eyes. “And I definitely stepped on your toes while we were dancing.”

“You didn’t.” If he had, you didn’t notice, too swept up in the warmth of his closeness to even register any overlapping feet or bumping knees. 

Someone barely visible in the inky night lugged a garbage pail across the sidewalk, the scraping of metal bringing your heart into your throat. The noise must have startled Eddie, too; his fingers tensed against your side to hold you in place as he stepped in front of you. 

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. Nervous, awkward laughter permeated the air when he realized that the threat was no more than a dented hunk of metal. “Sorry about that. I just thought–”

“S’okay.”

Comfortable silence, as much as the city streets allowed, accompanied you as you walked back, broken only by crickets’ rhythmic chirping and car engines revving down the boulevard. Eddie’s eyes stayed alert to his surroundings and his grip remained tight around your waist, adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the earlier scare. His chest nudged your back; you could feel his heart thumping a protective beat.

A hunger to kiss away that fear, to nuzzle yourself into him until his pulse steadied and his breathing regulated, settled into you. You were starving to restore his lightheartedness. 

Eddie’s voice was rife with apprehension when he spoke again. “I, uh, think we got interrupted. Back at the bar.” 

He looked away as he spoke, and it took a moment for you to register what he said. Surely he wasn’t referring to the kiss—or lack thereof. He wouldn’t be bringing it into the conversation now that the embers of your embarrassment had finally stopped burning bright. 

You shoved the thought far from your mind, temporarily quelling the memory’s intensity and allowing yourself to think straight. The slow dance–he meant the slow dance being interrupted. “The song was almost over, anyway,” you said softly.

“I’m not talking about the dance.”

Oh. So that meant…

“Heiress.”

A hint of a warble clipped his nickname for you. Eddie’s left hand wrapped around your upper arm, fingers barely touching skin, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. You caught the way his tongue flicked over his lip, the way his cocoa irises darkened even under the streetlamp’s flickering light. Fuzziness filled your brain; your breath hitched in some unknown space between your lungs and your throat.

His right thumb brushed your chin, your jawline, memorizing the texture of your skin. He smiled, the gentle upward tug of the corners of his mouth suddenly the center of your focus.

“Heiress,” Eddie repeated, the word a whisper that left your bones humming. 

You nodded, your own fingers tangled in his cotton shirt, pulling him an inch closer that still felt like he was a mile away. He would never be close enough, you realized. 

His palm slid to your cheek, his fingers tucked behind your ear, beckoning you to take that small step forward and bridge that gap. It was your choice. You could back away and unfurl your fingers from around his shirt. You could ignore the aching need in your core, the one that matched his. 

You deserve to be happy, he’d said.

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe him.

You believed him when you stepped into him, your chest against his, rising and falling in perfect synchronicity. You believed him when noses clumsily bumped together as you sought his lips, the lips from which symphonies of music and laughter flowed. You believed him when you finally found them after the agonizing seconds, minutes, hours, days–time both hastened and ceased to exist–and connected with Eddie on a level only ever reached in your runaway daydreams.

Expectations slid down your back and swirled down the storm drains when his tongue sought entrance at your lips. There was no school, no motel, no troubled lead singer. There was only you and Eddie. 

A calloused palm clutched your shirt, the fabric bunching between his fingers. The fervor of his tug pulled the neckline down past your collarbone to reveal one white bra strap. 

Eddie’s lips danced over your uncovered shoulder, forefinger sliding under your bra strap and toying with it once his mouth returned to yours. The touch was burning, the promise of pleasure sending sparks careening down your spine. The flames spoke nonsensically, whispering to let him undress you right here in the street. 

His hunger for you was seemingly just as insatiable. The hand that rested on your cheek dove to where your skirt curved along your ass, wrinkling the stiff denim as he squeezed harshly. You let your own grasp fall from his collar to his biceps, feeling them instinctively flex beneath your touch. 

More. You needed more. You needed all of him, needed to give him all of you, until you were wholly unified with no clear beginning or end to you and Eddie as separate beings. 

Your hips rolled into him, a soft moan leaving his mouth to safekeep in yours. You let it trickle down your throat, relishing in the subtle hardness that you felt pressed against his fly. 

A shoulder collided with his and sent both of you stumbling, Eddie only holding you tighter to prevent a fall. His arms wrapped around you as he scowled at the man who dared to occupy the sidewalk while the two of you were locked in an embrace. 

“We’re in the way,” you murmured against him, nose grazing the hint of stubble peppering his jaw. 

Eddie said nothing in response. His eyes shone with equal parts determination and desire. In one swift, impulsive motion, he grabbed your wrists and led you off to the side, away from any passersby. 

“‘S probably better that we stop.” The disappointment weighing down his words spoke volumes. “Your shift starts soon.”

You shook your head. “We can be fast.” Your lips attached to his neck, sucking lightly as your teeth grazed his exposed skin. 

“Look at me, Heiress.” Eddie sighed and leaned against the nearest lamppost. He kept two fingers curled into your belt loop, bringing you with him. “I don’t wanna do this with a timeclock going.”

“It’s fine, really.” Kissing him forever still wouldn’t be long enough. 

A chuckle punctuated his breath. “When we do that…” His thumb brushed over your lower lip for a second time. “I’m not gonna be rushed. I’m gonna need hours, Heiress. Because once I have you like that, I’ll never be able to stop.”

Heat seeped into every pore, bringing with it a familiar ache. Needs and wants blurred together until they were indistinguishable from each other, his kisses having siphoned all logic out of your mind. 

You allowed a moment for the fog to clear and reality to settle. No, you couldn’t fake illness and burden your parents with an extra shift, just to have sex with Eddie. No, you shouldn’t run your fingertips along his zipper and awaken the beast that he had managed to quell. No, you wouldn’t let lust wield its power like a mighty sword, slicing into all reasoning until it was unrecognizable. 

“Y-Yeah.” You swallowed back temptation, your gaze falling to where his arousal was still evident in his jeans. 

Eddie’s eyes followed yours, accompanied by an embarrassed huff of laughter. “Don’t worry about that.” The tip of his nose grazed your earlobe as he whispered, “I can take care of that later.”

His admission brought the imagery of him laying back in his bed, boxers haphazardly shoved halfway down his thighs and hand wrapped around his cock. You wanted—needed—to know how he touched himself. Did he tease the head with his thumb? Did he use his other hand to cup his balls? Did he gradually edge himself or did he sprint towards euphoria?

The cold metal of his belt buckle brought goosebumps through your shirt fabric as he kissed you once again, too briefly. Always too briefly. What you wouldn’t give for just a few more moments alone with him to unfasten that buckle yourself. 

“Heiress?” 

Eddie’s smile lifted you out of your thoughts, the smirk informing you that he knew you weren’t paying attention. 

“Hmm?”

Lips connected to the soft skin just below your ear; your body reflexively arched into their butterfly touch. “What time are you doing laundry tomorrow?”

“Oh, um,” You calculated silently, the inside of your cheek trapped between your teeth. If you went to bed at 6 A.M. and then slept until early afternoon… “No earlier than two. I can knock on your door when I’m ready.”

He nodded as he threaded his fingers with yours. A current of protection surged through the lines etched in his palms, wrapping you in a cocoon that kept the rest of the world at bay. The sounds of car horns and pedestrians’ conversations and the subway rattling under the grate faded into the background, too dull to even hear. There was no one except for you and Eddie.

The motel entrance loomed ahead, the dimming sign filling you with ambivalence rather than its usual sense of tranquility. Despite the headaches and heartaches it brought, it was still home. 

Tonight, however, you approached it with newfound apprehension. Entering the lobby meant that you had a choice to make: You could keep your grasp on Eddie’s hand and risk your mom seeing, or you could let it go before she noticed. 

You reluctantly untangled your fingers from his, anxiety defeating you with a fatal blow. His hand draped over your wrist for the briefest moment before falling unceremoniously to his side. It hurt to look at the confusion pinching his brows together, his mind spinning to determine the miscalculation that caused you to let go. 

Telling Mom would be too complicated; you’d basically be subjecting yourself to a lecture on the unprofessionalism and dangers of forming romantic relationships with the guests. 

No matter that you’d never pursued so much as a friendship with a guest prior to meeting Eddie. No matter that, with him, you felt more whole than you’d ever been. More true to your authentic self. 

Mom looked up before the bell jingled, a product of her maternal sixth sense. There was no missing your smudged lipstick or the pinkish-red marks across Eddie’s mouth that nullified any alibi he might create. 

“Did you two have fun?” To her credit, Mom kept her tone nonchalant, but her narrowed eyes saw it all. 

“Mhm.” You scraped at the corner of your lip, as if that would conceal the evidence. “Eddie sang Elvis at karaoke.”

That got a smile out of Mom, her posture softening slightly. Still, distrust radiated off of her skin, twisting the knife of inadequacy deeper into your stomach. She glanced between you and Eddie, sizing up the situation. There was nothing she could say at that moment. Not with Eddie standing right there.

“I’m gonna get changed and I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t bear to meet her gaze as you walked to your room. 

A piece of you hoped that Eddie would be waiting when you returned. You stripped off your skirt first, the denim dropping to the ground and revealing your panties. They were, in fact, pink and lacy; the kind that one might wear if they planned to show them to someone else. As if you and Eddie would have been able to sneak past your mom unnoticed. 

You tugged on a pair of jeans, too worn and wide-legged to be capable of showing off your figure. 

The make-up you wore to the bar was too dark for work, and you scrubbed at it until mascara residue stained your white washcloth black. You rinsed, scrubbed, and repeated until your face was bare. Tired eyes stared back in the mirror. 

Honesty was a weight in your chest, anchoring you in an abyss of your own shortcomings. It pulled you down, down, down until the waters were too murky and the pressure was too strong to swim up to the surface. 

With a deep breath, you pushed off of the sink ledge and headed back to the lobby. Only Mom was there, her disdain no longer hidden now that the two of you were alone. 

“Eddie’s in his room,” she said, as though reading your mind. 

“Okay. Yeah, he’s probably tired—”

“You know better than to get involved with a guest—employee—whatever he is.” Mom waved her hand in irritation. Her voice was sharp, cleaving through the facade with one cut, yet hushed in case of eavesdropping ears. 

You cast your eyes down to the floor. “We’re—we’re not involved. Things just got out of hand, but we’re colleagues. Friendly colleagues,” you added off-handedly. 

Mom sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you making friends,” she started, “but it’s not a good idea for you to get close to Eddie. If you have an argument or a falling out…”

“I know.” It compromised too much. Eddie could pack up and leave at the drop of a hat, and the motel would be without a handyman. You weren’t sure how the place survived before he was around, changing light bulbs and plunging toilets and tinkering with minor electrical problems. Now that he was here, he was an invaluable asset. 

“Okay.” Mom looked at you once more, a warning flashing in her eyes. “Okay.” Stepping out from behind the desk, she watched as you took her place. 

“Mom?” All of your truths begged and pleaded to be unleashed. Your feelings for Eddie, graduate school, plans for the future. 

She stopped, stunned by the vulnerability in your tone. “Yeah?”

Tell her. Stop being a coward and tell her. 

“I’m gonna wash clothes around two tomorrow, if you need anything done.”

Failure. 

Mom loosened a breath that blew away some of her anger. “I’ll ask Dad, but I think we’re good.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know running this place hasn’t been easy, but we’re really proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Every ounce of your remaining strength was spent on tempering your emotions, swallowing the pit that formed in your throat. “Get some sleep.”

The ugliness of your lies wrapped around you, constricting vines that dug into your skin and severed the flow of blood and air. 

The daughter they were proud of didn’t exist. Maybe she never did. And the daughter they had was surely nothing less than a disappointment. 

It wasn’t until the silence settled in, swallowing you whole, that you realized you’d never bid Eddie good night.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin @hellfire--cult

[puppym3]

Could you maybe write a fic based off of your favorite fancam? I know it sounds like a weird suggestion but I'm curious

⌦ .｡.:*♡ "take you home tonight"

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

playboy!seungmin x fem!reader

"let’s get out of this noisy place without anyone knowing no bad intentions just wanna know you more"

synopsis: seungmin knows you from mutual friends, and he always thought you were cute but you've never interacted with him. you both were at a house party you both were invited to and once he finally grabbed your attention, he never let it go.

wc: 5.7k

warnings: MDNI 18+, playboy!seungmin, cocky!seungmin, alcohol consumption, pining, tension, confessions, seungmin knows he's hot, at least he's respectful, seungmin is a little bit of a tease, text message segments, kissing, piv, protected sex, brief oral (f rec.), fluffy, seungmin wins reader's heart over, (lmk if i missed any!)

a/n: honestly, this really confused me at first, but then it really intrigued me and i couldn't stop thinking about it. thank you anon for giving me this change to dig deeper and be more creative with my writing!! before we start the fic, i should let you guys know what my favorite fancam is!!!

it's seungmin's "my house" fancam from the 2020 SBS music awards!! you can watch it here! i think it's the way he moves in it that's just so addictive, i've probably watched it millions of times, i suggest you watch it too!

let me know in the comments what your favorite fancam is! <3 (ALSO pls pls leave suggestions in my inbox i literally love doing these)

here's the song on spotify, as well!

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

The thumping bass of the music vibrated through the walls of the house, mingling with chatter and laughter. You navigated through the crowd, holding a red solo cup filled with some concoction you barely knew the name of. It was one of those typical college house parties—loud, chaotic, and bursting with energy.

You kept on losing your friends through the crowd of drunk dancing people, and the dim lights didn't help at all. The place was huge too, either someone rented out a mansion for the night, or they just happened to own a place this huge, and also had enough money to turn this place into a club-like setting.

Relieved to have found a quieter corner in the sprawling mansion, you took a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. The night had been a whirlwind so far, and you couldn't help but feel a little lost in the chaos. You sipped your drink, scanning the room for any familiar faces.

Seungmin, a familiar face from your mutual friends, spotted you from across the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw you alone. He had been trying to catch your attention all night, but every time he got close, you seemed to disappear into the crowd.

Seungmin, little did he know, you were purposefully avoiding letting him come close to you all night. You barely knew the guy, sure, but every single time you've seen him, his charms made you undeniably angry, always seeming to have a different girl attached to his side.

He's a playboy, and you didn't want to get yourself tangled up in his game, you didn't want to be used for a quick fling, no matter how sexy he was.

So you continued to evade him, making sure to keep your distance from the boy who, even though you've never had a full conversation with, you couldn't get out of your mind.

Contemplating the chaos inside, you made a conscious decision to seek some fresh air and stepped out onto the balcony, feeling the cool breeze on your face. The night was quiet out here, a stark contrast to the party inside. You took a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

After a few minutes, you felt ready to dive back into the chaos. You re-entered the mansion, weaving through the crowd once more. As you made your way back to the dance floor, your eyes landed on Seungmin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation at the uncanny ability of fate to always lead you to the one person you least wanted to encounter.

He was dancing in the middle of the room, his body moving effortlessly to the rhythm of the music. His hips swayed with a natural grace that was almost hypnotic. He was laughing, his face lit up with genuine joy, and for a moment, you forgot everything else about him.

You couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way his body moved, how charming he was even when nobody was watching.

For the first time, you saw him without the usual entourage of girls. It was just him, immersed in the rhythm, completely unaware of the eyes on him. The way he moved was magnetic, and despite your better judgment, you felt a pull towards him.

Before you knew it, your feet were moving, carrying you closer to the dance floor. You tried to keep your distance, but your eyes never left him. Seungmin's dance was intoxicating, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the sight.

Then, as if sensing your presence, Seungmin looked up and caught your gaze. His eyes locked onto yours, and a slow, confident smile spread across his face. He held out his hand, an invitation in his eyes.

You hesitated, your mind racing. Every instinct told you to turn around and walk away, to avoid the playboy who had captured your attention. But something inside you wanted to see where this moment could lead.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and Seungmin. His smile grew as he pulled you into his arms, his hands settling on your hips. The tension between you was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Look who finally stopped running," he teased, his voice low and smooth.

You smirked, trying to keep your cool. "Look who's finally dancing solo. What happened to your other girls?"

Seungmin's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. "I figured they were getting in the way of something I really wanted."

You raised an eyebrow, a touch of skepticism in your voice. "And what’s that?"

"Getting to know you," he said smoothly, his fingers lightly tracing your hips as he guided you into the rhythm of the music. "I've been trying to catch your attention all night, but you keep slipping away."

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. "Maybe I was trying to avoid you on purpose."

"Really?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "And why would you want to do that?"

"Because you have a reputation," you said, your voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. "One that doesn’t exactly scream ‘relationship material.’"

Seungmin chuckled, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. "What if I told you that my reputation is all just a show?"

"I'd call you a liar," you said, your voice teasing. "Because I've seen the way you flirt with anything in a skirt."

Seungmin spun you around, your back now pressed against his chest. His voice was low, his breath warm against your ear.

"And what if I told you that there's more to me than just a pretty face?"

You shivered, goosebumps rising on your skin. Your mind was telling you to run, to get away from the playboy who had captured your attention. But your body was telling you something else.

You leaned back into him, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. "I'd say prove it," you challenged.

Seungmin's hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. "Come to my house tonight," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll show you everything."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," he admitted. "let me earn it."

You bit your lip, your heart racing. You knew it was a bad idea, but You found it impossible to ignore the undeniable chemistry that crackled between the two of you.

Seungmin’s hand rested on your lower stomach, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided your movements with the music. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the intensity of the night. His proposition tugged at your desires, yet caution whispered warnings in your mind, leaving you torn.

You were just about to make your decision when the song changed, the beat shifting from fast and pulsing to something slow and seductive. Seungmin's hand moved from your stomach to either side of your hips, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Last chance to get away," he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

With a sharp intake of breath, you turned around and pulled Seungmin closer. His body pressed against yours, and you felt your skin burning up.

"If you get any funny ideas, I'm out." You huffed, acting like you totally weren't being swooned.

The bass of the music was heavy, and the heat of the room was nearly suffocating, but nothing could compare to the electricity between you and Seungmin. You were pressed up against each other, dancing with a natural ease.

Seungmin had his hands on your waist, and you had yours around his neck. The two of you moved in sync, as if you had done this a thousand times before. It was exhilarating, and you felt as if you were flying.

Seungmin smiled, and you felt your heart flutter. You had been avoiding him all night, but now you couldn't get enough of him.

As the music shifted to a faster pace, Seungmin's hands moved to the small of your back, and you felt his body moving with yours. The two of you were practically wrapped around each other, and you couldn't help but revel in the way he made you feel.

He was dangerous, but you couldn't resist him. He was a playboy, but there was a part of you that wanted to see where things could go.

The night went on, and Seungmin's offer remained on the table. You kept your distance, but you couldn't get him out of your head. When the party started to wind down, and the crowd began to disperse, Seungmin held his hand out to you.

"So, are you coming with me?" he asked, a smile on his face.

The words were simple, but they carried weight. You looked at him, and the temptation was almost too much to resist.

You thought back to all the rumors you had heard about him, the countless girls he had charmed and seduced, but you didn't care right now.

There was something about him that drew you in, and even though you knew it was a bad idea, you couldn't say no.

"Okay," you breathed, taking his hand.

The two of you made your way out of the mansion, and Seungmin led you to his car. The night was quiet and still, and the moon was high in the sky. It was as if the world had paused, giving you a moment to breathe before diving into the unknown.

"This is it," Seungmin said, his voice low and steady.

What did he have planned? Was he planning to just invite me here like all of his other quickies and make me leave the next morning? Or was he being serious?

The questions raced through your mind as you looked up at the apartment. It was smaller than you expected it to be, and in a quiet neighborhood. You had imagined him living in a luxury high rise, but this was surprisingly humble.

Seungmin held his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him guide you up the stairs. His hand was warm and reassuring, and for a moment, you could almost forget that you were in the home of a notorious playboy.

"Make yourself comfortable," Seungmin said, his tone soft and inviting.

You blinked in surprise, 'make yourself comfortable?' You thought he would jump you the moment you stepped foot in his place. But instead, he was offering you a seat, a drink, and an ear to listen.

You couldn't remember the last time you had spent an evening with someone in such an intimate setting. Usually, if you were to go home with someone, it was because they were expecting something to happen.

But tonight, it was different.

Seungmin was patient and attentive, asking questions about your life, and listening intently to your answers.

When would he drop the facade and make a move on me?

You questioned repeatedly, feeling a growing sense of anticipation building within you.

"Are you cold?" Seungmin asked, noticing how you had unconsciously wrapped your arms around yourself.

"Um, yeah, a little," you lied, knowing full well that you were just nervous.

Seungmin slipped his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. "There you go," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That better?" The warmth of his jacket and the smell of his cologne surrounded you, and for a moment, you couldn't find the words to speak.

"Thank you," you managed, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. He had only given you his jacket, and yet your heart was beating like a jackhammer. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, and that you wanted him to keep on stripping.

But Seungmin surprised you again, by not making any move. It started agitating you, the anticipation of him not doing anything was killing you.

"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yes! No! I mean- I'm fine, it's just..."

"Just what?" he prompted, his voice soft and understanding.

"You're not gonna, y'know..."

"Gonna what?" he asked, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

You huffed, your cheeks red. "I mean, isn't this when you'd, like, y'know, make a move or something?"

Seungmin bursted out laughing, shaking his head. "Is that what you think this is? Me, bringing you back to my place so I can have my way with you?"

You pouted, a look of embarrassment on your face. "Isn't it? Don't you bring girls back to your apartment for this reason?"

Seungmin shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "This is the first time I've invited any girl to my place," he admitted, "why? Did you want something to happen?"

"I- what? No, no!" you protested, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

Seungmin's smile widened, and he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you sure about that?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, and the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his body heat radiating off him, and the urge to close the gap between you was overwhelming.

"Y-yes, I'm sure," you stammered, but your eyes gave you away.

"Really?" he murmured, his hand brushing against your cheek.

"I mean, why did you bring me here, if not to... do things?" you asked, the curiosity getting the best of you.

Seungmin's smile faltered slightly, and he looked away, as if embarrassed. "I like you," he said quietly, "and I wanted to spend time with you, get to know you, in private."

You couldn't believe it, he didn't even try anything at all. He really did just want to spend time with you.

"You don't have to lie, you barely know me, how can you like me?" you huffed, a bit annoyed at his antics.

"Because, I don't chase, and for the first time in my life, I want to."

Your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you off guard. You looked at him, and you saw nothing but sincerity and vulnerability in his eyes.

"You like me?" you asked, disbelief and hope intermingling in your voice.

"I do," he affirmed, his gaze locked on yours. "I've been trying to talk to you for months, but you've been keeping your distance."

"I just didn't want to be another one of your conquests," you admitted, your voice soft.

"And what if I told you that I haven't slept with anyone else since I met you?" Seungmin asked, his voice laced with emotion.

You blinked, not believing what you were hearing. "You... haven't?"

"No, I haven't. I haven't wanted to," he said, his eyes holding yours.

Your heart raced, the emotions swirling within you threatening to overwhelm you. "I don't understand,"

"What's not to understand?" he asked, his voice soft and tender.

"Wouldn't liking me make you want to fuck me even more?" you challenged, trying to make sense of his words.

Seungmin sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I want more than that," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I want more than sex," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "I want more than a night."

His words pierced your heart, and you were at a loss for words. You couldn't deny the indescribable feelings he was bringing out of you.

You felt his hand cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.

"So, do you want more?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You breathed, your voice shaking.

Seungmin's grip on your hip tightened, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his body heat, the smell of his cologne, the sound of his heartbeat. It was intoxicating.

He leaned closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. You could feel the electricity between you, the desire for more.

You didn't care about his background anymore, you didn't care if he had an uncountable amount of women before you, you wanted to be the best, the last, you wanted to be all his.

Seungmin’s breath was warm against your lips, and the intensity of the moment made your heart race even faster. You felt like you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, and the world outside seemed to disappear. The only thing that mattered was the proximity of his lips, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of something more.

You closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Seungmin responded eagerly, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss. It was as if he was pouring all his emotions into that single, electric contact, and you could feel every ounce of it.

The kiss was slow and exploratory, as if both of you were savoring the moment and the connection between you. Seungmin’s lips were soft and insistent, and you could taste the sweetness of his breath mingling with the lingering taste of your drink. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of desire, and of something more profound than just physical attraction.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, faces flushed with emotion. Seungmin’s eyes were locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. As if it was the first time he's ever kissed in his life.

"What does this mean?" he asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

You brushed his thumb over his cheek, a smile playing on your lips. "It means that I'm done running," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

"And?" Seungmin prompted, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"And," you began, taking a deep breath, "I want to be more than a night with you as well."

Seungmin exhaled, a look of relief and happiness washing over his features. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. You wrapped your arms around him, the feeling of his embrace enveloping you. It was as if the whole world had stopped, and it was just the two of you in that moment.

"Thank you," he breathed, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

You buried your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne and reveling in the feel of his body against yours. You could stay like this forever, you thought, but reality soon set in.

You reluctantly pulled back, meeting his gaze. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice laced with anticipation.

"Now," Seungmin began, a smirk spreading across his face, "Can I take you out on a date, maybe?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the hopeful expression on his face, "Of course," you replied, your heart fluttering with excitement.

"How about tomorrow?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

You nodded, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn't believe this was happening, and part of you still wondered if it was a dream.

He leaned in and captured your lips in another but shorter kiss.

When he pulled back, you found yourself unconsciously chasing his lips, stopping when you realized what you were doing.

Seungmin smirked, and the look on his face sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you going to keep teasing me?"

"Do you want me to?" he countered, his seductive tone back.

You playfully hit his chest, the flusteredness showing on your face.

"You were the one who told me to 'not try anything funny'." he teased, his fingers trailing over the back of your hand.

You wanted to curse at past you for setting you up like that. And at him for using it against you at this moment.

You wanted to tease him back, it wasn't fun being the only one cock-blocked.

"You can take your jacket back," you said, taking it off and handing it to him.

He looked at you, confused.

"I won't be needing it."

You brought your hands to the back of your dress, pretending to slowly unzip it.

His eyes widened and his face was red when he realized what you meant.

"Wait, so does this mean- Are you-"

"I don't know, am I?" you taunted, enjoying his reaction.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to process the situation.

"But aren't we going to date first?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Dating doesn't equal fucking."

His breath hitched in his throat and he looked at you as if you were an entirely new person.

"Did I surprise you?" You said, removing your hands from the back of your dress.

He was too stunned to say anything.

"Good night, Min,"

"W-what? Are you not staying?" he asked, disappointment laced in his voice.

"We have a date tomorrow, right?"

You turned away and made your way to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow,"

"But-"

You didn't bother to hear him out, closing the door behind you.

You were dying laughing, all the way down to the bottom of the apartment.

Suddenly you felt a buzz, a text came in from your phone.

Seungmin: I wasn't expecting that.

You: You said you wanted to chase.

Seungmin: You got me,

Seungmin: Goodnight.

Seungmin: See you tomorrow.

Seungmin: Sleep well.

Seungmin: Text me when you get home.

As you turned off your phone, a mix of excitement and anticipation lingered, and you couldn't help but wear a stupid smile on your face. You knew he had you hooked.

***

You laid in bed, Seungmin still flooded in your head. The smell of his cologne ghosted your senses and the memory of his lips on yours replayed in your mind.

"I'm so fucked,"

You eventually fell asleep, excited for tomorrow.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was reach for your phone to check your messages. It was still early, so there were no texts from Seungmin on your phone.

But someone else did message you overnight, your friend who invited you to that party.

> I heard you left with Seungmin. I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU DIDNT DO ONE-NIGHT STANDS!!!

> Did you use protection?? please tell me you used protection.

> You're not even responding...

> Oh god, what happened??

> Don't tell me you're dead, naked, and your body is in a forest somewhere???

> You're still not answering.

> At least tell me if the d was big though? Did he know how to use it?

> Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know.

> OMG WHAT IF YOURE PREGNANT WITH HIS BABY.

You couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter, your friend was always one for drama. You decided to leave her on read, knowing that she'll be annoyed with your lack of response.

It didn't take long for Seungmin to text you.

Seungmin: Morning,

Seungmin: Do you have any plans today?

You: Yeah, I have this really hot date in a little bit.

Seungmin: I'm jealous.

Seungmin: He should know you're mine.

You: Come pick me up, Min.

You: So you can remind me.

Seungmin: Address?

You sent Seungmin your address, excitement bubbling within you as you prepared for your date. Your heart raced with anticipation, and you found yourself fidgeting with every little detail of your outfit.

When the doorbell rang, it felt like time slowed down. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest, and swung the door open. There he was, standing on your doorstep with a charming smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The sight of him sent a surge of desire through you, making you want to drag him inside and forget all the plans you had for the day.

“Hi,” he greeted, his smile widening as he held out the flowers. “I thought these would brighten your day.”

You took the bouquet, feeling your cheeks flush. “Hi. Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

Seungmin’s eyes sparkled with genuine warmth as he looked at you. “Ready for our adventure?”

You nodded, your excitement palpable as you stepped out and closed the door behind you. The day was just beginning, and you could already tell it was going to be special.

The first stop was a museum, a place you had never been before. Seungmin seemed to know all the best exhibits and shared interesting facts with you as you wandered through the halls. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself captivated by his passion for art and history.

Next, he took you to a quaint little café for lunch. The food was delicious, but what stood out the most was the way Seungmin made you feel. His attention was solely on you, and every moment was filled with easy conversation and laughter. Despite your attempts to pay for your share, he insisted on covering the bill, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he did so.

After lunch, Seungmin took you shopping. You roamed through boutique stores, trying on clothes and laughing together as he gave you his playful opinions on various outfits. His generosity was evident as he insisted on buying you a stunning dress you had your eye on, despite your protests.

As the day wound down, you returned to Seungmin’s apartment. The atmosphere shifted as you walked in, the intimate setting contrasting with the excitement of the day. Seungmin pulled out his guitar, a soft smile on his face.

“Let me show you something,” he said, settling into a cozy spot on the couch and gesturing for you to join him.

You watched in awe as he began to strum a gentle melody. His fingers moved skillfully over the strings, and his voice, smooth and heartfelt, filled the room with a beautiful song. It was a side of Seungmin you hadn’t seen before, and you were mesmerized by his talent. The way he played and sang seemed almost magical, and you found yourself lost in the music.

When he finished, you were already snuggled up next to him on the couch, a contented sigh escaping your lips. The movie playing in the background was a mere backdrop to the warmth and closeness between you. You didn’t care about the film; all your focus was on Seungmin and the comforting presence he provided.

Seungmin’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch was gentle, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back. His voice, soft and slightly teasing, broke the silence. “Did I earn your approval?”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, a playful smile on your lips. “Hmm, I don’t know.”

He feigned concern, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you. “You don’t know?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you shifted your position, climbing onto his lap so that you were facing him. The move was intimate and bold.

His hands rested on your thighs, and he looked up at you with curious eyes.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned in to capture his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. He eagerly reciprocated, his hands traveling to your hips.

As the kiss intensified, you could feel your arousal growing, and the ache between your legs was almost unbearable.

You ground your hips down against his, and he let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your hips.

You could feel his bulge pressing against you, and the friction of his hardness against your core was driving you crazy.

"Fuck, I need this," you breathed, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He lifted his arms, allowing you to remove his shirt.

As soon as his shirt was off, his lips were back on yours, kissing you with an almost desperate urgency.

His hands traveled up your back, pulling at the zipper of your dress. He removed your dress and tossed it on the floor, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties.

He looked at you, taking in the sight of your body. His gaze was filled with lust and hunger, and his touch was electric on your skin.

His lips left a scorching trail down your neck, his hands exploring every curve of your body as he planted kisses and gentle nips on your sensitive skin. You let out soft moans, his touch and kisses sending shivers down your spine, unlike any you've felt before.

He reached behind you and undid the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His hands cupped your breasts, and he ran his thumbs over your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You gasped, arching your back and pressing yourself closer to him, wanting more. He obliged, his mouth capturing one of your nipples while his hand teased the other. You were panting and gasping, the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

His continued attentiveness sent waves of overwhelming sensations cascading through you, each touch and kiss a symphony of pleasure. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and the throbbing between your legs was growing more intense.

Descending lower, his tongue painted intricate patterns on your skin, a tantalizing journey that culminated at the edge of your lace panties. With a deliberate motion, he hooked his fingers on the elastic of your panties, easing them down your legs with a gentle tug, baring you completely to his heated gaze.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his gaze full of desire.

With a tender push, he guided you down onto the plush couch, settling himself between your parted legs. His tongue ran up your inner thigh, making you shiver.

When his tongue reached your core, you couldn't help but moan, the pleasure was almost too much.

"You're so wet," he said, his eyes wide as he felt how slick you were for him.

He went back, his tongue swirled around your clit, taking his time to taste you, and the sensation was so intense that you could barely think straight.

"You taste so good," he groaned, his tongue plunging inside of you.

You cried out, your fingers gripping his hair. You could feel the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Seungmin, please," you begged, the need to release was growing more and more unbearable.

He pulled back, his fingers rubbing your clit, "What is it, baby?" he asked, his eyes scanning your face.

"I need you inside of me," you gasped, the sensation of his fingers on your clit was sending you over the edge.

He smiled, the look on his face making you even more desperate for him.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You savored the taste of yourself on his lips, finding it to be the most tantalizing and erotic sensation you had ever encountered.

As he continued to kiss you, his fingers worked their magic on your clit, and the heat and pressure building in the pit of your stomach was becoming too much to handle.

You could feel the tension daring to snap, until his fingers retreated, leaving you feeling empty.

"Why did you stop?" you pouted, your hips bucking against him.

"Because, you're going to cum on me." he teased, his tone seductive and teasing.

He undid his pants, grabbing a condom out of his back pocket before throwing it to the side, along with his boxers, revealing his cock.

Your eyes widened, taking in the sight of his size, he looked delicious.

He looked so sexy as he rolled on the condom and discarded the packaging, and you couldn't wait for him to fill you.

"Ready?" he asked, lining himself up at your entrance.

You nodded, the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

"Yes," you breathed, the need for him was almost overwhelming.

With that, he slowly entered you, stretching and filling you like no one ever had before. He moaned little curses, the sensation of being inside you was driving him crazy.

You whimpered, the feeling of him filling you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. He felt so good, and the pleasure was almost unbearable.

"Oh my god, Min, you feel so good," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

He started thrusting in and out, the friction of his cock against your walls was sending sparks of pleasure throughout your entire body.

A guttural moan escaped your lips as the feeling of him moving inside you rendered your mind a haze of pure pleasure and ecstasy.

You felt like your brain was being reduced to mush, the pleasure was so intense, and his cock felt so good inside you, rubbing against your walls in ways you've never experienced before.

You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, feeling the tension build up in your core. The room was filled with the sound of your moans mixing with his, the heat between you both rising to an unbearable level. Every touch, every movement, every sensation was heightened in that moment, making you feel alive in a way you had never felt before.

The tension snapped, and you felt the heat and pleasure crashing over you, sending waves of ecstasy through your entire body. You cried out, the feeling was too intense, and the pleasure was almost overwhelming.

"Oh my god," you moaned, your nails raking across his back as the orgasm tore through you, rendering you a shaking, quivering mess.

He cursed in response, feeling your walls clench around him and your orgasm washing over him. The pleasure was too much, and the feeling of your walls pulsating around him was sending him over the edge.

He came undone after you, the pleasure crashing over him, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rode out the waves of pleasure, the sensation too intense.

You held each other close, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Did I meet the qualifications?" he murmured, his eyes shining with affection.

"More than qualified," you sighed, returning the kiss with a lazy smile.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

taglist: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

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₊˚౨ৎ˚₊ to remain on my taglist, make sure to interact :)

[g3l3mb]

how to generate creative ideas:

(i need to get this out of my brain)

Make moodboards, playlists, keep a list of people who inspire you. Before starting a project think about the general vibe you want it to embody. Ask questions like “What would this concept sound like if it was a song?” ,“What would this concept be like if it was a person?”. Create a shirt that looks like a building you like, literally anything can be combined.

Take unrelated things or concepts and mix them together. Let’s take Addams Family as an example. “What if it was a story about a typical suburban family…but GOTH!”. It basically flips everything upside down. Or “What outfit would someone wear, who’s personality is the mix of the vibes of these two songs?” Random word generators are amazing for this if you don’t know where to start from.

Try making something truly BAD and then add a twist to it. It’s a great way for your brain to let go of expectations and then think outside of the box. But you can also use this to find out what you do not wanna do under any circumstances.

Think without worrying about the limits of what you can do and when it’s time for excecution, find a way around what’s impossible. It births more creativity and adds uniqueness.

Consider what your idea is NOT before considering what it is. Limits are the best way to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up. Don’t ALWAYS do this though (unless you wanna…), it’s just something to try out when you feel like you’re seeing too many possibilities to the point that they’re contradicting each other. Unless your goal is to make something full of contradictions, you’re a Free Man, do whatever you want.

Keep a list of random ideas you have throughout the day in your notes app or something and then at some point actually review them. Keep what you think is worth exploring and then act on it.

Find out how something works very throughoutly so you know which aspect can be changed to create something new.

Take a concept and break it down into smaller concepts, ideas, questions, key elements and then also break those ideas down etc. This will naturally lead to associations, unique ideas you wouldn’t think of without doing this. I found that this is a great way of coming up with metaphors.

This one is similar to the last two: take a piece of art you really love and try to find out the thought process behind. What’s the story, where did the artist get inspiration from, how did they incorporate those ideas in their work. How did an artist combine their personal interests and knowledge into one big thing. For example: Tolkien was an erudite linguist, so much so that he created entire functional languages in his work, such as Elvish in Lord of the Rings. Hirohiko Araki loves 80’s music so much he named characters in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure after music references. This is why no knowledge is useless knowledge.

Think about the times you’ve been the most creative before. What were the specific circumstances? For me my best ideas always come when I have a strict deadline for something unrelated, like school (which I’m way too willing to sacrifice), or when I’m doing something mindless like walking and listening to music, or playing a game that requires no thinking. Most of the time after 10p.m. This doesn’t mean I can’t “force” myself to be creative (tips above), it just means these are the times ideas come most naturally. For some people this might be being out in nature or experiencing high emotions, maybe having their life on the line idk, to each their own.

You can’t just create. You also need to consume. The more information you absorb, the more possibilities you have with your ideas. So if you’re not feeling that creative, that’s fine, it’s the perfect opportunity to learn something new.

If you don’t already do these things and you’re looking to get more creative my advice is to ACTUALLY TRY THESE OUT. You’ll best understand them in action.

[berberriescorner]

“Get Your Act Together”

Part of the “Say What Now?” Song Series

Characters: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader.

Summary: A reader who’s petty and needs to teach jealous and possessive Angel a lesson.

Warnings: Strong language, sexual content, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, and jealousy.

Word Count: 2,900+

AN: This one is for my lovelies @darqchilddaydreamz and @ravennaortiz! Be sure to give my babies a shout-out for encouraging me to finish this one. They gave me the push I needed to do so. I hope all my loves enjoy this one. Yes, I’m aware, the dress is different in the storyboard, but it still gives what needs to be given. Okay!

Inspired By💖:

People closest to you, whether friends or family, always expressed that they envied your level of pettiness. It was as if you were the queen of petty. Your best friend often compared your skills to a lioness hunting its prey. If someone pissed you off purposefully, you weren’t always quick to act. It was much better when you waited, letting that person feel they had gotten away with something. Once you noticed it had slipped their mind, that they were comfortable. That would be when you took the time to get revenge. Pettiest bitch alive.

Your current mood and setting could be used as an amazing example. There you were sitting at the kitchen island. Eyes focused on the portable LED makeup mirror propped on the counter. One hand held your eyelid as the other drew a precise wing. Music flowed throughout the house and you rocked your hips while sitting on the bar stool. Your hair had been curled and pinned. You wanted the curls to set in before taking them down. You were fresh out of the shower, almost fully dressed, and smelled divine. To avoid any makeup spills, you had slipped into your silk robe.

The song had switched just as you put the finishing touches on your look. The track that started was perfect for how you were feeling. It was fitting for the little plan you had set in motion. Revenge was for sure sweet. “Beating Down Yo Block” by Monaleo flooded the house. Sliding out of your robe, you started letting your curls loose. Walking over to your heels, you slid them on as the song’s beat sunk into your veins.

Using your fingers to comb through the fresh curls, you started rapping your favorite part. “Bitch I’m fine! Slim waist, pretty face, he know I’m a dime.” Still combing through the curls you dipped to the ground, dress riding up a bit as you did a little twerk. The sound of bikes approached your driveway and you smiled to yourself. Damn, I have perfect timing. 

Giving a classy little twerk in the living room mirror, you continued to rap the lyrics, “Ain’t no pressure ‘bout no ninja, tell his ass to fall in line.” The front door opened and your alarm was disabled. You heard him call out to you. You stayed silent, a devilish smirk played upon your lips. Angel walked into the living room. Your eyes met in the mirror as you said the next line in the song. This time, your ‘Megan knees’ were in full effect. “Cause for this next line you gotta look me in my eyes. If you think I’ma sweat you, you out your mothafuckin’ mind.”

Angel was too mesmerized by your ass in the little black dress you had on. He had picked up on the subliminal message of the lyrics but was more interested in your attire. His eyes scanned over you, as his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He could feel himself hardening. That was until he remembered you two weren’t alone. He growled seeing Coco to his left and Ez to his right. Both men were ogling you. Ezekiel’s reaction was more shocked. Coco’s grin was a mile long as he sat there eating every bit of the image up.

Angel being jealous and possessive, barked at you, “Stop throwing ass in front of company. Pull that short-ass dress down. Where the fuck do you think you’re going dressed like that anyway?”

“First off I was here, by myself, getting ready, and enjoying my company. I can twerk as much as I want in my damn house. You barged your tall lanky ass into my shit. Stop talking to me crazy, Angel. To answer your question. I’m going out with my girls.”

“Our shit.”

“Sleeping here almost every night doesn't mean a thing to me. You still have your place and my last name hasn’t changed.

“If you wear that short-ass dress, we’re going with you. Your ass is damn near out.”

“Stop being dramatic. No, it isn’t! I do not need a babysitter, Angel. If you can do you, I can do me, right?”

Angel understood what it was all about now.

“Why do you have to be so petty? How does that much evil fit in such a short body?”

Your shoulders shrugged, as your hips swayed to the mirror to touch up your lip combo. Angel walked up behind you pulling you into his chest. His lips ghosted your bare shoulder, giving it a playful bite, and his hips thrust against you.

“Stay here with me, mi dulce. I want to get you out of this dress.”

You felt him press into you and fought back a whimper. You refused to allow Angel to have his way. You pushed off of him. 

“I’m going out tonight in this dress, end of conversation. On second thought, I take that back. Let’s have a chat about dresses. Mine is an issue, but it wasn’t a problem last weekend,” you purred.

“Last weekend? What are you talking about?”

Yeah, playing dumb is not going to slide this time, jackass.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Angel.”

Your obtuse boyfriend looked to Coco and Ez for help. Both men threw their hands up, wanting no part of the conversation.

“Here let me jog your memory. Remember when I walked into the party at the clubhouse last weekend? When you hadn’t noticed, because you were too busy entertaining that fucking hang around. The one who conveniently dropped her phone and bent over to pick it up. Had all three of you dumbasses staring at her bare ass. I couldn’t give one iota of a fuck about your boys staring, but you? Yeah, that’s a problem. You want to be possessive? I’ll do the same. You want to stare at other bitches? Let’s see how you feel about other men eyeing me, Papa. My dress isn’t nearly as short as the one that thirsty hoe had on. I’ve told you one too many times not to play with me. Now I’ma show you better than I could ever tell you, baby.”

Angel tried to save face in front of his friends. He mumbled, “Nobody worried about shit. Go out, it won’t affect me as much as you think, Mami.” 

Your eyes locked in with both EZ and Coco. You all smirked, communicating without even saying a word. He wanted to be cute in front of his little friends? 

I can be funny too, and have them help a sista out. 

Your heels clicked over to Angel. Sliding your hands on his chest, you looked up at him with fluttering lashes. Face painted with an innocent expression, you stood on your tiptoes to steal a quick kiss. He smiled down at you thinking he had won. You leaned in and teased him.

“Ass fat. Kitty fat. I got all these men wishing they could have that. Baby, just admit that you love it here,” you smirked trying to get a rise out of him.

Angel kissed his teeth and was about to say something sarcastic, but Ez cut him off, “God, I did not need to know that,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, bro but he needs to be reminded of what he’s got at home,” she teased the flustered Mayan.

Kissing his teeth Angel retorted, “You the one acting up. Better chill out before I give you some act right.”

“I mean come on ‘mano, that ass is fat. You better appreciate that fine-ass woman,” Coco challenged.

Angel looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It took everything in Ezekiel to keep from laughing.

Still staring at Coco like a madman he replied, “Bitch, do you want me to shoot you? Stop looking at my girl’s ass!”

Ezekiel wanted in with busting his brother's balls. Like a typical annoying baby brother, he joined in on the fun, “Sister or not. We’re not real blood, so I’ve gotta agree with Coco, brother-.”

“Don’t finish that fucking statement, Ezekiel,” Angel warned.

Ez and Coco exchanged a knowing glance before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“What? It’s the truth! That’s a nice ass, with a nice set of ti-.”

In a split second Angel was lunging at Ezekiel. With your help, Coco managed to break up the scuffle among the brothers.

“Jesus, bro. Learn how to handle a joke!”

“Fuck both of y’all,” Angel pouted, no longer enjoying being the brunt of the joke.

“No disrespect. My bad, it is fat though,” he chuckled along with Ezekiel.

“Bunch of bitches,” Angel groaned.

Feeling you had tortured him enough for the evening, you walked over to him wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey, look at me,” you cooed, gripping his chin softly. 

“Baby, you know they’re joking. If anybody tried me like that, I’d curse them out. Relax, you know you give them shit about their significant others as well. Luckily you have sense enough not to try that shit in front of me, because I’d kick you in the balls,” she smiled innocently. Now calm down and give me kisses, papa.”

His arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you off the ground. Three pecks and a hungry kiss later, EZ and Coco stood there rolling their eyes.

“All this lovey-dovey shit is making my stomach turn. Cut it out,” Coco grumbled.

“One more, mama. Make it real good so Coco can lose his dinner.”

He leaned in to capture your lips. It was slow and dirty. All teeth and tongue. Without breaking eye contact, his left hand trailed down your back. Stopping at your backside, he grabbed a handful. His left hand lifted from your waist as he flipped his brothers off.

“Now how can you get mad, when you know for a fact that it's fat? Look at how you just gripped the shit out of it. You got any sisters or cousins packing something that serious? Hook us up,” Coco begged.

It was your turn to flick them off. Pulling away from the kiss, you bounced over to your brothers. Raising on tiptoes you slapped them both in the back of the head.

“That’s for staring at my ass!”

Another smack.

“That’s for conveniently forgetting you both have old ladies. Whom I adore. I’m snitching on you bitches. Do I have any sisters or cousins? Get out my face with that mess, joke or not, I’ll beat your ass. Angel’s all the heathen my family can tolerate,” you joked.

Angel sat back with his arms crossed admiring you. Feeling his stare, your eyes connected as you bit your lip.

Both men sandwiched you in between giving you bear hugs. Ezekiel kissed your temple before pulling back.

“Lo siento, hermanita.”

“Yeah, querida. We didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Angel makes it so easy to fuck with him.”

Angel raised both middle fingers to his brothers. Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. With a tug of his shirt, he understood your signal to lower himself to your height. You pecked his lips several times. He stood there smiling like a love-struck idiot as you wiped your gloss from his lips.

With a pat on his chest, you made a beeline to your handbag. You made sure you had your keys and cell phone. With confirmation, you turned in the direction of the three men.

“Alright baby, I’m heading over to besties. I’m leaving my car at hers, and she’s driving us to the bar.”

Angel cut you off, growling your full name. “I’m serious, querida. If you’re wearing that we’re coming too.”

The two of you stared each other down. You refused to give in to his demands. With a shrug of the shoulders, you responded, “Then I guess y’all hittin’ the bar tonight.” The keys in your hand were tossed across the living room as Angel caught them. He looked at you, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, you thought I was changing? No, baby boy. I hope you three didn’t have any plans.”

To the three men’s absolute horror, not only did they have you to watch over. EZ and CoCo were pissed to learn that the besties you were hitting the town with were their old ladies. They too, had on dresses that left little to the imagination.

When you went for revenge, it was always the most pettiest, delicious thing ever. The Mayan men spent the next two hours threatening anybody who so much as looked in your direction. They sat at the bar mugging, while you and the girls danced the night away.

Later that night after everyone had returned to their homes, Angel sat in the recliner. His eyes collided with yours as you swept into the living room fresh out of the shower. He looked pissed as you giggled, standing between his legs.

“What did we learn today,” you asked in your best kindergarten-teacher voice.

“What the fuck are you on about, querida?”

You leaned forward running your hands up his arms. You crawled into his lap, smiling mischievously. Your arms linked behind his neck as you rocked a bit. Inwardly you did a little victory dance as you heard him groan.

Your face stopped inches away from his. The two of you were close enough that your breath fanned one another. “Don’t play dumb. What did you learn, Daddy?”

“That you’re a petty ass woman.”

“Boy, stop! You already knew that.” Your hips circled on his lap. Angel's hands gripped your thighs tighter as he groaned, “Fuck.”

“Answer me, Daddy,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth over his hardening erection. “I’ll even help you out. Repeat after me.”

“I learned,” you started, pressing against him harder. You halted your movement, waiting for him to repeat it.

Angel kissed his teeth, “You gonna take this away,” he started, palming your covered mound. Your breath hitched, as you fought for control. Unable to say anything, your head nodded.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, “I fucking learned,” he growled.

“Not to pay thot-ass, hang-around-ass hoes any mind.”

“I’m not saying that shit, Mami.”

“Ignacio,” you growled back, “Just say the shit so we can fuck already.”

“Fine! I’ll ignore every thot ass hoe who steps foot in the clubhouse. Does that work for your pretty ass,” he asked, giving your left cheek a light smack.

“I mean, I guess.”

Angel cocked his head back, “You guess? Mi dulce, you know I don’t want that girl. She was being thirsty. That’s what they do.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You look at women’s asses all the time. Why is it cool when you’re all like, ‘Babe, look at her ass! Sis, packing a wagon,” he mocked.

“That’s different. You gotta have permission, love.”

“You know you’re crazy as fuck. Right?”

“Yep! Enough of this. Do you want to make it up to me? Take me upstairs, put me on my back, and eat me until I can’t see straight.”

With an evil smirk, Angel had you in the bedroom, on your back instantly. The head he’d given caused your vision to blur. Without any time to come down, Angel flipped you onto your knees. He buried himself deep, pulling at your curls. Angel bent you into the perfect arch. He was in no mood to be nice. Flashes of you in that dress being ogled ran through his head. He pinned you to the mattress as his hips snapped against you. The both of you, shouting every time his tip tapped that spot.

He used both hands to smack against your supple flesh. Angel's fingers dug into your hips as he gave you one punishing stroke after another. His long digits made their way back into your mane. He tugged on it pulling you up and against his chest.

“You weren’t mad. Right, mi dulce? You just wanted to get me all worked up, yeah,” he rasped sexily. His hips circled, pushing deeper, “You ain’t gotta pick fights to get slutted out, Mami,” he groaned. His free hand crept down your belly. It slipped down, down, down until it reached your bundle of nerves. 

Angel pulled out slowly until it was just the tip. His lips trailed kisses over the shell of your ear, leaving a playful nibble on the lobe.

“That’s it—ain’t it, Mami? You were in the mood to be my little slut, hm?”

Angel didn’t bother waiting for a reply. His hips surged forward, slamming his length to the hilt. The moment his tip tapped against those delicate nerves, he pinched your clit. He chuckled at the piercing scream you released. Your body trembled as his fingers circled the sensitive bud. The circles stopped once you came back down. Angel laughed again as your body went limp. He held you up, brushing hair out of your face, his kisses dusting your forehead.

“You’re alright, mi dulce. You did so good for me, mami.”

Your eyes blinked as you smiled lazily. Drunk off good sex, you slurred, “Thank you, baby,” head leaning back against his chest.

Angel's voice rasped, “Oh you think we're done? Mm-mm, mi vida. We’re just getting started. You whined feeling him pulse inside you. “Don’t whine now. Worked up was what you wanted. Now you gon’ take it. Be a good girl for me and get daddy off, yeah?” Angel's voice dropped dangerously low as he whispered, “I’m going to fill you up, and then you’re going to clean up your mess. Put that pretty mouth to use.”

Angel’s words must have replenished your energy. Your lip tucked between your teeth, as your channel spasmed around him.

“Seems like you're ready for it after all,” he replied, giving you light strokes.

Being petty came with the loveliest of benefits. Here’s to hoping this man fucks up again.

How did we like it, lovelies?! Comments and reblogs are GREATLY appreciated💖.

My Lovelies (Tagging)💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @ravennaortiz @astoldbychae @thirtysomethinganduncensored @sunshine-flower @hornyslasher

@playgurlxoxo @cosypinky2 @thebumbqueen @tashawar

@jup1ter1nk @badgalbeyy @wbbwife @becauseimher

@phomoe @beachyserasims @tbmotw @baddieweebwaifu4

@sweetmems3 @moo-meadows @kj77 @vampkennedy

@black-bisexual-simp @cocooned-butterfly @thatbrowngruul

@booksandlatenights @jayblackpanther @percosim

@glimmerglittergirl @yoshiluvs @diamoniquehayes

@joysmiled @mickeyme7 @lovearynacemn @cjricks98

@alika-4466 @hope4rain19 @bl00dr3gin @3xclusivemariii

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@missbee1095 @thebaileybugle @tbugger01 @gabbywontlose

@buttershea07 @joyfulfxckery @starrynite7114 @niaaalovesficton

@nightlywords7 @introvertllux @ticosas @chxrryp0p

@olyvoyl

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Take A Rest

Request

PAIRINGS: Poly SKZ x Gender Neutral Reader WARNINGS: Shitty managers and fans. Mention of a creepy band member. Lack of communication which leads to last minute solutions. Male reader requested but I don't think there's any reference to the reader's gender. I think that's it.

Everything had gone to shit. The venue, missing band members, last-minute replacements, and a ton of other issues. All of them were swept under the rug by your manager, Tony, until the day of the concert.

The venue didn't have enough seats. The replacements for your missing band members didn't know the songs. Your lead guitarist and drummer weren't there. Tony decided he didn't want to tell you that the props were broken.

Your drummer got sick after being overwhelmed with stress from practice and her finals. Your lead guitarist said something about having a baby, but you knew that was a lie. That man has been a creepy virgin since you've known him.

Some fans didn't understand the stress you were under. With a recent flux in fans, the demand for a full album instead of songs was higher than ever. And with love comes hate. 

No matter what you did. More music, less music, or different genres of music. Everyone still felt the need to put their 2¢ in where it wasn't needed.

Fortunately, those who attended the concert were understanding of the current situation. None of the issues happening were under your control.

"Remember when I told you all that communication is the key to almost everything?" 

The crowd's screams of agreement echoed in your ears. Every outro on a video, a concert, a fan sign, or other event you exit with a similar speech and farewell; a signature in your fanbase. 

"It appears my manager didn't listen and failed to communicate," You sighed in disappointment. The crowd's mummers of irritation quiet down when you raise your hand to continue. "Nothing is prepared. And I know you paid money to see me and the guys perform."

"This time the concert will be a bit like a fan event-" You wave at those sitting closer to the stage and they scream greetings back. "When we reschedule a concert for you guys, and I'll make sure they do, you can see me perform." 

"How's that sound?" Your grin is showcased on the big screens behind you. Everyone cheers and the impromptu fan event begins.

With a sigh of relief, you walked off stage with the sound of people laughing and cheering ringing in your ears. Your manager was talking with one of the staff, waving his arm around as he shouted at them. With a tearful nod, the staff member left and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Tony followed the girl with his eyes before turning to look at your approaching figure. He glared at you from behind his iPad. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" You scoffed, moving past him and into your dressing room. 

You're greeted by your boyfriends scattered around the room. Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin sit on the couch watching edits of you in your recent music video. Jisung chases Jeongin around the room, narrowly avoiding Seungmin and Minho from their spots on the floor.

Chris is the only one who stands from his spot in your chair to greet you. He catches you as you flop into his arms. Before Chris can speak, your manager busts in and calls you back out.

"Since you want to give away free tickets, you can help schedule them into another concert," Tony grins, a malicious glint in his eyes. 

You need to nap and then find a new manager.

Even in bed, your shoulders were tense and your brain was in overdrive. Thinking of the damage last night's not-concert has, and will, cause. Helping your team to comb through each person who attended the event so you could squeeze them into another concert at a later date. The scolding your manager gave you wasn't helpful.

Tangled in the sheets and limbs belonging to your lovers, their scents pressed into the covers. You were warm and so very, very tired with a sprinkle of guilt seeping in. This was supposed to feel nice. It was supposed to help ease you. 

But why couldn't you relax?

"When are you going to let someone take care of you?" Chris asked, wrapping the curls on Y/N's head in a scarf and bonnet. "It doesn't have to be one of us or someone we know."

"Just let someone in." Hyunjin's hands were warm against Y/N's cold face. His plump lips press butterfly kisses against your eyelids, forehead, and temples.

With Changbin and Hyunjin calling dibs on your sides and Chris laying you between his legs, so your head pressed against his stomach. You're pretty sure Seungmin is asleep, curled onto your legs with his hands gripping your calf. 

Jeongin is sprawled behind Hyunjin with his arm over Hyunjin, and hand on your chest, over your heart. 

Felix and Jisung were somewhere in the dorm causing chaos in the kitchen with Minho supervising. You could hear Jisung yelling at the pots for burning him, Felix's laugh, and Minho shouting about melted plastic.

You'll probably have to clean the kitchen at some point.

"For once, just relax and let someone care for you. Please," Changbin whispered with arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"Don't hog him," Jeongin whined, pulling you back into his and Hyunjin's arms. 

Changbin grumbled as he yanked you back giving a chain reaction of Hyunjin and Jeongin pulling you and Changbin fighting for you to stay in his arms. Poor Chris with him latched onto you, he was tugged in every direction with you.

So, this is what the rope felt like in tug-of-war.

"You need to go to bed," Minho's voice comes from the doorway and everyone's heads turn in sync. He stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, Jisung and Felix peeking around his shoulders.

"Who?" You ask.

"All of us," Minho answers, carefully curling up in an empty spot on the bed. 

Minho's attempts not to wake the sleeping boy are futile as Jisung dives onto the bed. He sandwiches himself between Changbin and your side, scaring Seungmin awake. He grumbles as he adjusts himself and falls back asleep.

Felix lingers at the end of the bed, looking for a spot to sleep. The moon shines on his milky skin and his eyes reflect the light. You turn so your back presses against Chan's chest, and Seungmin huffs as he turns away from you and tucks his face into Minho's neck. Felix was lying atop you amidst the commotion.

"Go to sleep, Y/N."

You hum, your eyes slipping close. It's warm. It's peaceful.

©️DEANAMEANTAE2024

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️First Course: It's always this, it's always that. The never ending demands you have failed to meet. How much more can you take of this bitter situation? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Enough For You

wc: 1.4k

genre & warnings: angst angst angst (no happy ending here with hj), reader learns how love must work in a relationship, lovers to exes, marriage, other idols appearance, cursing, insecurity, just pure angst :D

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You watch Seonghwa and Mina sway to the romantic music for their first dance as a newly wed couple, and your heart flutters with joy seeing them so happy.

No, jealousy was never an option for this one because you've seen their journey together. How their relationship blossomed and now, they are entering a new phase of their lives together. It was truly magnificent.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" a voice brought you out of your reminiscing, turning your head to look at the source and you were dumbfounded to the core.

The man that you have been avoiding for the rest of the day is standing in front of you in his full glory, an awkward yet hopeful smile on his face as he awaits your answer.

"Yeah, Hongjoong. Go Ahead." you replied, returning the smile before sipping the now warm champagne in the goblet that you have been ignoring for the past few minutes in lieu of admiring the pair in the middle of the reception area.

A moment of silence, and he dared to break it.

"It's been a while since I last saw you. How's life?" he inquired, making small talk and you fight off the urge to leave him there alone, but no can do, you're not gonna be childish in the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

"It was good," then you paused, blinking and correcting yourself, "no actually, I have been living the best life."

He was taken aback at your slightly ironic tone, not used to the way you're speaking, like you're a completely different person after your separation, and only a month has passed since.

"Well, as for me.."

He trails and you roll your eyes, you did not ask how he's doing and certainly not interested. But you maintain your poise, not wanting him to see that he's having a negative effect on you.

"I've been miserable... without you, at least."

You whipped your head to look at him incredulously, an aghast scoff coming out of you unconsciously at his audacity to tell you that.

Wasn't he the one who decided to end your relationship? He was the one who destroyed a 5-year long bond, so what the fuck is he on about?

"Are you serious?" he looked offended when you asked him that, like he was pulling a stunt or something but who could blame you?

"Why would I even joke about that?" he mutters back, frowning when your confused expression turns into an appalled one.

He really isn't serious, right?

After all the shit that you have to go through because he's always wanting, needing, and looking for more in you.

You've never really seen the importance of going outside all glammed up, your friends and family have always complimented your bare face. A natural beauty, as they liked to call you. Then you saw the girls that he dated back when he was younger, and it made you insecure.

So you learned how to do hair and make-up. Buying expensive ass hair curlers, eyeshadows, foundations, lipstick, brushes and all that shit just for him to say to not notice what you have been doing.

You observed him to no end, taking notes of his likes and dislikes. His favorite dishes and drinks, colors and style of clothing, heck, you even memorized the song that he's been humming to for days.

The books beside his bed and on his shelves weren't left untouched by you. Every page was read dutifully so you could relate to him whenever he tells you a story about a recent book that he had bought.

But it seems that your efforts were all in vain, as there is always something that is lacking in you.

"The colors of your outfit are not matching."

"Oh, I'm actually trying a new kind of coffee today."

"No, wrong author, I can't believe you'll make a mistake about this."

It may be the emotional attachment or the undying commitment that you hold dear for him are the reasons why you continued to change yourself for him. In your eyes, he is absolutely perfect, and you're determined to fit in his aesthetic.

You were determined to make him accept you.

But as they all say, the more you burn, the more you turn yourself into ashes that will inevitably crumble.

And the snapping point was nigh when you're tired and he couldn't even bat an eye on your well-being.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?" Hongjoong eyes your appearance, black dress and clean hair and make-up, and if you ask anyone, they'll say that it's simple yet elegant.

Truth to be told, you don't have the energy to go all out for the event that you're attending. Still, you did your best to look presentable, and you did a great job, you think.

It was a hellish week for you. Finals are coming up and you're dying from all the studying, you're also struggling in your part-time job because of the lack of sleep. The worst one was the nagging of your parents, constantly asking you about your plans for the future.

Everything was taking a toll on you and the last thing that you wanna hear came from the very same person that should have been a source of comfort.

Hongjoong sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Just.. stay put in one place. I can't have you embarrassing me further than this."

There you go, you lost it.

"Embarrass you?" a deriding tone rode along with your words, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Y/N, do you see yourself? I told you to do your best, and this isn't what I envisioned." he mumbles, expression souring when you exuded such an attitude in his words.

"Ah." it was flat, the way you said it, as you were suddenly hit with the realization that even when you restart and destroy yourself, it will never be fucking enough for him.

Gosh, he could've at least acted better. Feigned care and faked affection, but he can't even give you that.

And you're so fucking done with his bullshit.

"I will not come with you anymore. Go alone." you muttered, turning in your heels and heading to the bedroom.

"What? Y/N, stop being a child."

"No, Hongjoong. I need you to stop being a know-it-all, go fuck yourself."

That was the first time you stood up for yourself, and damn did it feel good. Like you're finally free from his restraints, and it's addicting.

He rolls his eyes at you, muttering a 'Suit yourself.' and exiting the house, not even an ounce of concern at your sudden outburst, and that was all you needed to make a cathartic decision.

That was the day you left without a trace, and you can finally breathe without him cursing you into the darkness of being inadequate.

He blew your phone up, messaging and calling you, and you were disappointed when it ceased just after a day. It says a lot about him though, on how much of an asshole he is.

Especially after a mere three days and he's already posting a new bimbo in his social media accounts.

At the present time, you're tempted to spill the alcohol in his face and probably ruin his expensive suit.

How could you even believe him that he's serious, that he's not kidding when he made you feel like a clown.

You chuckle, staring straight ahead, "Did your new girl dump you or something?"

"No. I just realized that it's different, you know? If it's not with you then it doesn't feel right." he admits, looking down at his shoes because frankly, he is ashamed of gazing into your eyes.

You couldn't help but ridicule him, standing up from your seat and straightening your dress, shooting him a dangerous glare, "I told you this before, and I'd repeat it a thousand times."

You smile wickedly, flipping him off, "Go fuck yourself."

You walk away, not paying attention to his desperate calls, the polite facade is gone in the wind and the only thing that you could think of is that you're not gonna allow him to break your heart and soul anymore.

You have only started to regain your true self, not the image that he wanted you to have, and you'll be damned if you'll let him get inside your head again.

Kim Hongjoong was a lesson, one that you'll never forget and never forgive. Maybe you loved him too much, but at least you now know that if someone truly loves you, that person will accept you for who and what you are.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

[kairoot]

. ﹙★﹚THE COLOR VIOLET. | 희승

PAIRING : heeseung x f.reader ➖ GENRE : angst, 80s au, high school au ➖ REQUESTED : no ➖ WARNINGS : lowercase intended, pet names, break-up, no happy ending, swearing, let me know if I missed anything! ➖ WC : 1.6K

SECTION SONG: the color violet by tory lanez

.˚ *꒰ঌ ✦ ໒꒱ * ˚. —

apologizing was hard, but accepting an apology you didn’t believe in also proved to be difficult. there were not enough fingers on your hands to count how many times heeseung had apologized for causing you trouble.

whether he wasn’t communicating or distancing himself randomly. but his biggest issue was keeping his promises.

that was definitely something he lacked in your relationship and it was getting old. he’d fill your head with all these fantasies, sweet talking you until it was time to actually act on what he’s saying.

you used to believe him, getting your hopes high when he would tell you things but disappointed when they wouldn’t come true. now, you wouldn’t even bat a lash at anything he was saying. cause in the end it would never happen.

you sat on the bleachers in the gym, watching everyone dance around with friends or their partner. your chin rested in your hand as you thought to yourself. staying at home with a cola in your hand and watching full house play on the television screen seemed like a much better idea. you wondered why you didn’t go with that choice rather than believing heeseung when he said he’d be joining you that night.

a few guys had gave you glances, showing that they were interested and some even came up to you, but you were in no mood to move around. and even though you planned to end things with heeseung, that didn’t mean your loyalty wouldn’t remain.

before you could let your eyes wander anywhere else, one of the large double doors of the gym flew open. your eyes widened as your boyfriend entered the building, hair and suit soaked from what you assumed was rain.

his eyes hurriedly scanned through the huge crowd of high schoolers, hoping to spot you somewhere on the dance floor.

your feet had began to move down the bleachers before you could even think about it. you scrambled to the drink section hoping that he didn’t catch sight of you.

a sudden feeling of anxiousness washed over you as you poured the red beverage into the matching cup. you gulped it down, trying to rid the dryness in your mouth.

a hand on the small of your back was the reason your drink almost came back up, the sound of your coughing was heard in the small area.

“woah, take it easy on the ‘punch’, maybe?”

there he stood in front of you now, showing off his intoxicating grin. you would’ve fell all the way into his arms if you didn’t have morals.

you avoided his gaze, staring down at the empty cup. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him and say those words all at once.

“hey,” the tip of his finger came to lift your chin, doe eyes looking back into yours.

“you okay?”

you nodded, still looking up at him, feeling a bit vulnerable under his stare.

“c’mon.” he smiled again, starting to lead you toward the dance floor.

“no.” you pulled your hand away from his, remaining in your spot at the drink table.

heeseung looked at you once more, a concerned expression spreading over his features.

“what?”

“i can’t do this, heeseung.” you placed your cup to the side, finally bringing yourself to look at him.

“what.. what do you mean?”

he’d hoped you didn’t mean what he thought you meant but you did. everything that heeseung had put you through caused you anything but happiness.

“you know what i mean.” you sighed.

“baby, you don’t really mean it.” he gave you a half-hearted smile, his hand coming to caress the side of your face.

“as much as i’d hate to admit it, hee.. i do. i mean it.”

for a moment, there was only the sound of music blaring and people cheering around you. heeseung seemed like he couldn’t bring himself to say anything so you continued.

“to be honest with you, this relationship hasn’t brought me much happiness and i think that should change.” you removed his hand from your cheek as it came to rest at his side.

his body tensed up as your words seeped into his brain. this was the talk he knew that was coming but never wanted to hear.

“and i.. i just can’t continue like this, hee. not when you can’t even keep your promises.” you tried to be transparent with him but careful not to hurt him either.

“y/n, i’ll do better i-“

“will you, though? or is that just what you’ve told me the last couple of hundred times?” you tilted your head slightly.

“you know, i had to get a ride from jen and her boyfriend because you clearly forgot about tonight.” your hand came up, gesturing to his damp appearance.

he sighed, shaking his head, “look, baby, you know i didn’t mean to..”

“you never do, do you, hee?” you asked, rhetorically.

once again, he couldn’t answer to your words and could barely look you in the eye.

you took one more glance at him before walking off to another corner of the gym.

heeseung felt his eyes burning as he took the cup you were drinking from and took a sip from it.

after realizing he couldn’t stand being in the same place he had his heart broken in and with all the love songs playing, he took long strides toward the double doors he came in, now exiting through them.

the rain still came down like pellets on him as he struggled to find his dark tinted car.

he stumbled toward the door, unlocking it and sliding in the drivers seat. the engine started as the key entered the ignition and he pulled out of the school parking lot, already doing 90 in the rain.

heeseung wasn’t angry at you, per se. actually, he was quite frustrated with himself. he didn’t blame you for breaking up with him. it was his own fault that his heart got broken and that you couldn’t have the happiness that you deserved.

★ ★

milan’s note: LOL no joke this sucks ik.. i havent had the chance to write a longer fic in a while and this clearly shows but i wanted to try something new! first sentence prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz — message or comment to be added

[multifandomgirl08]

Just Pretend - MV

Ex!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Rekindling of Past Relationship)

Summary: It had been a few years since you had seen Max. Since you had left him in Paris.

Warning(s): Flashbacks to verbal argument, google translated Dutch (Do I have to warn for this? Isn't it just implied at this point?)

A/N: Based on the song Just Pretend by Bad Omens. I have another few song-based fics that I'll end up adding to my masterlist that are for F1. And a second part is in the works for the Mini Verstappen Series, should hopefully have that up soon!

Words: 2.8K

Formula 1 Masterlist

It had been a few years since you had seen Max. Since you had gotten into that huge fight in his hotel room and left him in Paris. The words ever ingrained in your brain.

“I need you with me.” He pleaded to you, standing in his black dress pants and a white button-down dress shirt that was only slightly undone at the collar. 

“You’re only asking me to move in with you so that it’s easier for you. Not because it’s what you really want.” You spat back at him.

You had similar arguments before, where he would plead with you to stop working and move to Monaco with him. The thought was nice and all, but it wasn’t realistic. You couldn’t just spend your days lounging around Max’s apartment doing nothing. You needed a job to keep you busy.

You didn’t even spare him a look, just tossed your things into your suitcase and took your passport out of the safe before slamming the hotel room door behind you.

After that, it was all a blur. You called a cab, and got a ticket on the next available flight home. You had never heard from Max. Did you even want to?

You had been together for almost two years. You didn’t really think that it had anything to do with the breakup, in fact, it was probably the distance and the constant travel. It felt like you never saw him anymore.

In the years since you had ended things, you had gotten a promotion at work that allowed you to work from home full-time. You only had to show up to the office once every six months. It also meant that you could travel more often.

It was the first time that you had gone to Paris since the breakup. You and a few of your friends had planned the trip which was mostly shopping and trying a few restaurants.

You had spent the day before walking around the city. You found a dress that you were really excited to wear to dinner tonight. One of your friends made plans for some restaurant that you had never heard of, so you put on your dress, and heels, and made sure to grab your bag before getting a taxi to the address that she had texted.

When you had gotten to the restaurant it was quiet, and had a covered patio area. It was nice, with soft music playing while the other patrons chatted while they ate and sipped on their wine.

As your friends arrived you couldn’t help but start talking about what you had done the day before given that none of you had a set itinerary for your trip, you just explored the city.

“What about you, Y/N?” Your friend asked.

You went into detail about the dress that you were wearing and the sweet woman who had talked to you when you bought the dress. You were just about to reply to the question of who it was made by when you saw a familiar pair of shoulders sit down in a chair a little further down from your table. You weren’t sure if it was who you thought it was, but you let your eyes fall to your plate.

“It’s umm,” You said clearing your throat. “Chanel.”

It was something that Max would have bought you if he was with you in that shop. You had to try to keep your eyes off the back of that guy's shoulders, even if all you wanted to do was look at him until you found out if it was Max. It couldn’t be Max, he was working. He was always working during the start of summer.

You had avoided looking over at the table again and just focused on your friends and the dinner that you had before you. It was easier that way, blocking out the rest of the world until you left.

You had split the bill between everyone and then got up from your table to leave.

“Y/N?” You heard from behind you as you followed your friends out of the restaurant.

It was Max’s voice. Your name still rolled off his tongue so perfectly in that distinct way only he had said your name. You had told yourself that you didn’t miss him, but hearing him say your name left your mind spiraling through all those things you claimed you didn’t miss: the way that he left dishes in the sink after you made dinner, or that he left his glasses half haphazardly on his driving sim. You kept telling him they would break if he didn’t take better care of them.

One of your friends gave you a look, asking if you wanted them to wait for you. You just shook your head in answer before she made the call me gesture. You gave her a nod in understanding before turning to see Max as he walked closer to you. You wanted to shift uncomfortably where you stood but just waited until he got closer to you.

It had been a long time since you saw him, you could see the subtle changes. His facial hair was finally growing in. He had lost the baby fat on his face, he looked good, happy.

“Hey, Max.” You said when he finally stood in front of you.

“What are you doing in Paris?” He asked. 

Before Max, you weren’t much of a traveler, but thanks to him, you grew to have an appreciation for visiting other places and exploring. He got to travel all the time for work, while you didn’t. He had promised to take you to so many places when you were together. Paris had been one of them.

“Girls trip.” You said, hoping that it would answer his question enough. You almost wanted to lie to him and tell him that you were there to see someone, but couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Right, I…” He started to say. “I just didn’t expect to see you here, not after…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Yeah. You weren’t sure if you could be in Paris again after you had been here with Max. How things ended here with Max.

“It’s good to see you again.” You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine.

“Yeah, you too.” You didn’t really know if you wanted to keep talking to him. It felt awkward, and you were just uncomfortable. But you couldn’t help but look at him and take in all of the changes. You wanted to know so many things, and at the same time, nothing at all. You wanted to ask him if he was happy. If there was anyone in his life. But you didn’t.

“I should probably go.” It was too easy to leave him standing there. You gripped your bag in your hand and turned away from him. 

“You were wrong.” He said just after you turned your back to him, his hand now on your arm. You couldn’t help but slightly shiver at the feel of his skin against yours. He knew that was your weakness. It always did you in. “What?” You questioned not bothering to look at him. “When you said that it wasn’t what I wanted.” His voice was steady, making it more pronounced how sure he was of himself.

You closed your eyes at his words. Why did he have to bring that up? Why couldn’t he just let it go? You had. You had buried the past before you moved, you buried your Redbull jacket that Max had gifted you one year in a box and never opened it again. You shoved it in the back of your closet; even if you were tempted to go in and wear it again, you knew better.

You felt the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. You wanted to wipe them away or force them back inside. You didn’t want to let Max see you cry.

“I kept pushing you. That’s why you didn’t want to go further with me,” He started to say. “I was away too often, I kept making promises that I never lived up to.”

As he kept talking you knew that Max was blaming himself. For whatever he thought he lacked while you were together, and that wasn’t the truth. Or at least not your truth. You just weren’t ready then, you were only 20 and everything with him had been moving fast. You didn’t want to go 200mph in a relationship. It would crash and burn before anything else, pun intended.

“I didn’t call enough, and I kept pushing you to quit your job which wasn’t right.” You had to stop Max, as much as those words would have been appreciated a few years ago. Hearing him admit that all those arguments you had about you quitting your job just felt odd. Maybe now that you were working from home, you understood how much you liked not having to constantly deal with being in an office space. Max hadn’t been right to ask you to quit your job, but he had made a fair point about being at home. It gave you more freedom to do what you wanted.

“Max… Please, please just stop.” You stood there for a moment before turning to him and held up your hand so he could see that you didn’t want him to continue. You didn’t want him blaming himself. Although there had been problems in the relationship, you were happy when you were with him.

It was easier to live your life with Max around, he always enjoyed laughing and having a good time, but he was in no way a party animal. He was sweet and down to earth despite the fact that he made more money than one person knew what to do with in a single lifetime.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. It was too easy to walk closer to him. His hands moved up your waist like no time had passed at all. His hands felt warm against the chiffon of your dress, you closed your eyes at the feel of his fingers fisting into the fabric.

“Max.” You whispered against his lips. He looked to meet your eyes silently asking if you wanted this.

You leaned towards him a little more, lightly feeling his lips brush against yours. Max deepened the kiss pulling you flush against him. Your arms moved around his shoulders, falling into the familiar dance that you did.

One of his hands moved to cup the side of your face, holding you there carefully. You could feel that his grip was getting lighter, his hands weren’t moving like he wanted to tear your clothes from your body.

It was like he wanted to take his time with you and cherish it. As if he would never be able to touch you again like you were fragile, breakable. He pulled back from you, looking into your eyes. He looked at you the same, he didn’t love you any less after all of this time.

“Take me back.” He murmured. You haven’t expected him to say that. You thought he would suggest sleeping together, one last time after everything. “Take me back and we can try again. I’ll do my best to make amends for all I did wrong back then.”

You couldn’t really find the words. You still tried to piece together your thoughts. After Max, you tried to date again. Your heart had never been in it. Like it was waiting for someone.

You didn’t think that it was waiting for Max to fix it after he helped break it the first time.

“I don’t know if I can Max.” You didn’t want to hurt him, you were just honest with him.

“Please, mijn liefje. I’ve waited long enough. I could barely let you go the first time.” This was news to you, from the few female friends that you still had from the world of F1, you had only ever heard stories about Max in passing. It was mostly about his career, never anything about his personal life, and you had thought it was because they knew that you didn’t want to hear about Max.

You never considered the reason that Max never reached out after Paris was because he had let you go. He had let you live your life without him. He had put what he thought you wanted above him. He had pretended that he was okay without you.

As you met his eyes you could see that all of his courage was slowly fading away.

You didn’t know if you should take this as a sign to give Max another chance. Your trip had been planned only a few months in advance while Max’s race schedule was planned 8 months in advance. You being in Paris at the same time as him couldn’t be a coincidence. And if it was one, then… you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Stay with me, ‘til the morning.” He pleaded as a last attempt. “Then if you never want to see me again. I won’t make you stay.” You knew that Max didn’t have a problem with going after what he wanted, that was why he was so successful when it came to his career. But you were surprised that he was just willing to let you go after all this time apart.

“Just til the morning.” You said. You could give Max until the morning. It would hopefully give you enough clarity if you could even give him another chance.

Spending the rest of the night with Max had been easy, you fell back into the rhythm of old conversations, and physical touches that seemed to come like second nature. Once you had done that he couldn’t seem to let go of you. You ended up back in your hotel room curled up against him on the couch with your legs over his lap as you talked about what he had been doing in the years that you were apart.

You could feel your eyes fluttering closed every now and then at the sound of his voice but forced yourself to keep them open. One moment you laid your head against Max’s shoulder and then next you were out like a light.

It had been the best night's sleep you had gotten in a long time. It was the most at ease you felt, waking up with his arms around you. Like no time in the world had truly passed between the two of you.

You looked over at him to hear the light sound of him snoring, and you couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle. Some things never change.

You saw his browns move in confusion before seeing his blue eyes open and meet yours. 

“Hi,” You said turning over.

“Hey.” He said back turning to meet you in the middle of the bed, you could see his smile grow for a moment before it diminished.

“I guess I should get going.” He was quick to move out of bed, collecting his jeans and shoes from the other side of the room.

“Max, you don’t have to leave.” You turned on your back before sitting up against the headboard.

“I do. You still don’t want me.” He wasn't looking at you.

“That’s not true.” You did want Max, maybe a little too much given how little time you had spent together. It shouldn’t have been that easy for you to want him again.

It was strange to think that this was all it took you to find your way back to one another.

“It’s not that I don’t want you, it’s that… I don’t want us to move fast again.” Max lived a fast-paced life during the F1 season. You didn’t want to rush back into anything.

“We don’t have to move fast, we were together for almost two years before I ask you to move in with me the first time. And every time after that… I knew you were going to say no.” You hadn’t said no, you had just kept fighting Max on the fact that you couldn’t because of work. That wasn’t an issue though anymore, that should make it easier now.

Max had put on his jeans before leaning against the arm of the couch before turning to look at you.

“Am I not worthy of you?” That question hit you right in the heart. Did Max feel like he didn’t deserve you?

You let out a deep breath, “Of course, you’re worthy Max.” More than anyone, you wanted to say.

“It’s just, if we do this again, we need to go slow.” You wanted to take your time with him, you weren’t the same people as when you were in your early twenties. Things had changed and you didn’t want the same outcome as last time.

“We can go slow, your terms.” He said slowly walking closer to you before reaching for your hand. You looked down at his hand before pulling him in by his neck, letting your lips meet his. There wasn't a reason to pretend that you didn’t want this again. You could no longer just pretend that you were okay without him.

[midnight-hotel]

Alastor's Radio Sounds Part 2.

Find Part 1 here

Here’s the requested part to of experiencing Alastor’s radio sounds. I’m trying to avoid doing too many headcanon posts but if I find one that intrigues me, I may make an exception. 

Naturally it had only been a matter of time before Alastor came to accept that you knew about his barely contained radio sounds. He seemed to have just accepted that you were able to read into him just a little better than everyone else.

Of course, he tried to make it harder for you to gain a reaction though.

He strives to make it harder for you to come up with comebacks, flirted that extra bit to coax a reaction out of you or even prompt something from the radio static that hung around him. 

While you initially thought he had no control of the sounds made, you did eventually come to find that there was some control. Sound effects to punctuate his own statements and funny sounds to mock those around him. 

Then there was music. 

He started to play small snippets of old songs when you were around. 

When he was standing behind you, a low tone would play to creep you out or when you were just lounging around and he was reading a book, a gentle melody would play, filling the silence. 

One day you had found him in the kitchen, cooking something that actually smelt quite good- though you wouldn’t put it past him to have something strange in there- humming away to a melody playing in the background. 

You hadn’t realised that you had been staring until you saw him turn directly towards you, as if completely aware that you had been there the whole time. 

Dressed in his usual attire, though his blazer was swapped for an apron, he extended a surprisingly ungloved hand towards you. 

You’d hesitate for a moment before approaching, placing your hand on top of his extended one before you’d be pulled in close. 

Before you’ve realised what’s happening, the music’s changed and you’re being waltzed around the room.

You could have sworn you weren’t in the kitchen anymore and you were wearing the finest clothes that could be tailored. 

You could have sworn he was wearing a full suit again- free of rips and tears that it normally adorned.

You could have sworn he was staring at you adoringly.

And yet by the time you put on a smile and grounded yourself again, you found you were still in the kitchen, the radio demon grinning with you as he gave you a spin. 

When he had finally released you to attend to his stew again, he left you with a bow, the music fading away to a round of applause.

You were beginning to think there may be more to his powers to enjoy than just his radio sounds.

[midnightblues444]

Meanie weanie |

Executive Ran x executive! Reader

Summary: after years of banter you've learnt not to take anything that Ran Haitiani says seriously, but cant help but wonder when the jokes end

Tags: smut with plot, workplace romance,

Sorry for being so inactive guys!! But here's a little thing

The cool evening breeze softly decorates your skin with goosebumps. The balcony you found refuge on is mostly empty, guests spaced out in huddles of conversation while you gingerly sip on a sweet cocktail.

"Mind if I join you there darlin?" the voice is male, annoying, you can tell as he saunters closer. You raise your brows without a word, raising your glass to your lips.

"So, you here with anyone?" He tries to be smooth

"No actually" you mumble, rubbing your slightly cold arms

"Ah so what brings you here then if not a date?"

"Business, its my company's event, so not really here for fun" your sips turn to gulps, you want this conversation to end

"Ah cmon theres room for a little fun right?" He shoots again, with a loopy grin

"Well I was having some fun before you showed up" you give him a look, turning to face him with as much annoyance you can muster. The offence paints his face as he prepares to say something else.

"Ohh ouch, she got you there man" the familiar sound of Ran Haitianis deep voice,of course, as if he just appeared. The man huffs, embarrassed to say anything else, you motion with your hands for him to shoo and glare before he leaves.

Ran turns to you with a pleased look on his face.

"You're so mean miss (name), it's hot"

You take a sip and glare at him over the rim of your glass, Ran Haitiani, your fellow executive who knows no bounds, hes beautiful unfortunately...tall, not too slender, with sleepy lilac eyes, tonight his dress shirt clings by his shoulders and his sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearm, revealing his tattoo.

Hes a flirt, a reputable man whore, you've tried to stay away from romantically. Being cautious not to fuck your colleague even though hes as fuckable as this. Although youve been testing your luck with some flirting, harmless banter, you call it.

"your dance card full?" He grins,

"Yes actually, theres a line of gentlemen waiting for my hand" you sigh giving your voice an exaggerated trill, putting your glass down

He grins wider, taking your hand in his, like a victorian gentleman, "then they'll have to wait longer hmm?"

Dancing with Ran felt like one of those moments where you catch yourself thinking he might genuinely like you. That the flirty banter is laced with hidden feelings hes scared to admit,

Its in the way his eyes never leave your own, his hand on the small of your back guiding you to the music, he doesn't make awkward small talk instead he makes fun of some poor passersbys and you laugh quietly trying to not make it obvious your laughing at a target.

It's nice, until the the songs over and Yuki,a woman from the company's catering service asks to steal him from you, just for a moment of course, forcing you to leave the dancefloor.

Hes not yours, you know that much, but cant ignore the feeling you get in your stomach when you notice his hand placement , finding yourself stomping back to your hotel room. Its moments like these where you hate company trips, wishing you could be in your own bed sulking for as long as you pleased.

You exit the elevator, deciding to take your heels off before continuing on. Sudedenly hearing your name get called from behind you. Ran, once again just appearing. You roll your eyes as he gets closer.

"Why'd you go?" He tries to hide that hes panting

"Did you take the stairs?" You avoid his question

"Elevator was occupied." hes quick "whyd you go?"

"Just felt like it"

He gives you a look, he doesn't buy it

"I mean...I'm pretty tired and Yuki came so I just didnt feel like standing there and if I went back to our table, the rest of the guys would probably tease me about us dancing together- and I really am not in the mood for that and... why are you looking at me like that"

Hes staring at you, no, hes gazing between your eyes and lips. Hes amused, grinning. "Jealousy makes you look super kissable" he smiles

"Stop just saying nonsense" you correct him rolling your eyes

"I never just say anything miss (name)" he steps closer

You huff in disbelief, looking away, when his hand suddenly on your chin turns you to face him "stay still, and ask me to kiss you"

Your breath hitches, you stare at him and then his lips, your heart races. You know hes being serious and this is now a moment of truth.

"Kiss me then Haitaini"

He grins so hard you feel it deep into the kiss, he kisses you tenderly, his fingers tracing your jaw and cheeks. Your hands gently hold his wrists, yet find themselves around his neck as it deepens.

You feel dizzy when you pull away, breathless, eyes opening slowly, "shall we move then" you sigh, with a gentle chuckle he laughs too.

In your room, he can barely stop kissing you, groaning onto your mouth, through the door to the edge of the bed.

You begin unbuttoning his dress shirt, discarding it. You kiss his chest and neck while undoing his belt. He gets out of the pants, and is left in just his black boxers.

You push him so that hes laying back on the matress, watch me, you wordlessly command. turning so he can unzip the dress. You slip the straps off each shoulder and let the thing fall down to your ankles, watching how his bulge grows.

You unclip your bra, and slip out of your panties. Hes jerking himself breathless, as you climb over him. Sitting cutely on his dick, you grind your hips teasingly as he groans, you kiss him boldly now, continuing grinding, you can tell he can barely focus by the way he sighs deeply.

You suck hickies onto his skin, and begin guiding him inside you, finally sinking down completely, you both let out a drawled "fuck". As you begin to bounce, desperate to keep the friction.

He chuckles at your whines, bringing one hand to thumb at your clit roughly and the other to take charge of the pace, thrusting upwards to your spot almost desperately.

He moans your name so sweetly each time you clamp down on him. And you feel your brain go to mush at how deep inside you he reaches, filling you up so good, your moans being paired with the sound of skin slapping.

"You drive me crazy" he says, and he means it, his thrusts get messier as he gives give you more,

"so close" you gasp, before you realise it your coil snaps, you arch at the way he doesn't stop and keeps fucking you through it. He finishes soon after you, groaning out curses, you feel his dick spluttering release and it dripping down your thighs.

Your panting as you come down, slowly, laying on him before feeling him turn you over. Climbing over you with his signature grin

"I'm not done with you sweetheart"

[hkruu]

“CILIAN” — hkr

character introduction ﹕character story !

Character info: His full name is Cilian Colin, born on the August of 23rd. He initially planned on going on another campus until he met you, all of his plans before you arrived were immediately forgotten as he put your needs above his. He's around 5'7, he's popular due to his purity and the way he treats people with gentleness.

Connections: Cilian has a big family, even that he doesn't interact with his cousins often. He think their interests don't clash with his so he simply avoids them during family gatherings and as for his friends . . . He as a lot, but they tend to come for him for advantages and benefits. The only true friends he has are usually the people who hang out at the library, and well, you.

Behavior: From an outsiders perspective, he's the type that you'd immediately become close with, because he's easy to get along with and has many interests that may clash with yours. He's the type to comfort you through all your problems, you can trust him with your secret (unless he does need it for blackmailing you). Cilian is always the soft type around people but when he's all alone, he's quiet. He coops himself up in his dorm room and scroll endlessly online and occasionally write lyrics and random letters.

Backround: Cilian was born into a normal family, not rich nor poor, just in-between. He often admired his parents' love for each other, the way they held each other, the sweet nothings they'd say to each other . . . Cilian wanted that to himself. Cilian was obsessed with the thought of loving someone and being loved, it was something that he greatly wanted, needed to feel.

When his parents took him to a nearby playground, he sat in one of the swings as he watched other children play. Although his mother was pushing the swing a little, he wanted to play with the other children but had no courage to, they were playing tag and he wanted to join in. Not until a kid, who was a little taller than him walked up to him and extended their hand; "Miss, can we play with your son?" the kid asked politely with a big grin.

And well Cilian found himself running around with other children, laughing and sweating like crazy while both of his parents watched in awe. "W-wait don't run there!" one of the kids shouted too late, Cilian found himself on the ground as he tripped on a rock and fell flat faced on the floor. The same kid who offered to play immediately ran up to him, apologizing with tears in their face as they held his hand tightly. "I'm sorry!" they sobbed out "I'll uhm.. make it up to you in the future, I won't let you fall again and I'll... I'll take care of you in the future!"

The kid wasn't probably being serious but Cilian loved the way they held his hand so tightly, he didn't know what to call it but he appreciated it. After that day, he never saw that kid again. In the future he did though, he made sure to write them a precious letter for Valentine's Day.

Interests:

• writing : Cilian initially started writing during highschool where he found his true passion. His first letter was a rejection letter from an admirer, not only that but corrected their letter. Of course the admirer took offense and backed off the moment they opened their letter to be found with corrections all over with Cilian's neat handwriting.

• music : he listens to music while writing letters to deeply involve his feelings into words. His genre consists of kpop, but he listens to anything, his favorite song right now is Lean On Me by SEVENTEEN he also likes The Smith's.

• art : He's not good at it but he can make beginner art, it's mostly because one of his siblings taught him how to draw for a little project.

• fashion : he likes fashion simply because it makes him look good (He also does skincare from time to time).

• stalking : what? He doesn't know how to stalk people, he doesn't know your security number, your favorite smell, what perfume you use, what shampoo you use, your socials, your house address, your whole family lineage, your routine, your way back home, how can you accuse him of such things? Cilian's hands only know how to write sweet letters.

• others : aside from everything mentioned, he's good at anything. He just needs the motivation to improve it, especially in acting. He's smart, he's handsome, he has a great personality, overall he's the ideal type of every girl in campus. Cilian doesn't let that get to his head, he only has eyes for one person and that's you, after all you promised to take care of him in the future.

Overall, he's not a hardcore yandere. He's a soft one, he's not one that get easily jealous because he knows you'll choose him in the end. He's not the type to murder but he won't hesitate to ruin anyone's life, he's not the type to kidnap you because he just knows you won't run away, because you're trapped within his palm like an ant, he'll squish you if he needs to.

\\ had to debate if I wanted to include an nsfw section but uhh I suck at smut maybe in the future sovs //

[teaboot]

39+40 for the ask meme? love ur blog💛🌻💛

💛

39. YouTuber you've been obsessed with and why?

So I'm not really into YouTube Fandoms but I was looking for new music a while back and heard White Tee by Corpse on spotify, right? And I loved the sound but I could only find a few songs, and I was like- okay, is this a new band? Is it exclusive? Why can't I find more, right?

So I tried looking them up, but all I was finding were channel results for 'Corpse Husband', which I thought was a fan account or something, since the channel was full of Among Us clips and scary stories-

But THEN I clicked on one of the stories, and I recognized it from some channels I'd listened to back in college when I couldn't sleep! Which was CRAZY- and it turned out it was the same guy, he'd just split off and started making music too.

And after hearing him talk on the stories again, I couldn't tell if that was actually his voice or not but he sounded really cool, so I clicked on some click bait title like "corpse talks about his voice" and watched an interview he did where he talked about a lot of personal junk I'd experienced too

And I kinda felt like

Well if this guy is dealing with all this crap too, and he still seems like such a good person, maybe I'm a good person too?

Like. Maybe some of us just feel like shit. But we aren't? And maybe there's something good I can bring to the table

But yeah no I like his music still, new songs come out sometimes and I'll loop 'em while I'm cleaning or painting or walking home from work, and it's nice.

That's pretty much my only youtube fan/follow experience, tho.

40. Any bad habits?

Oh, lord. Probably a lot.

I bite my fingers too much, can't leave scabs alone, bite my lips- I have a permanent crease in my bottom lip where they got chapped and split too many times when I was a kid. Had a self-harm habit for over a decade but I've been good for the last two years or so.

I don't drink or smoke or anything like that, never had alcohol or pot before, but I fucking hate washing dishes and I will eat dinner directly off the stove to avoid doing more.

Also I fall asleep in the bathtub at least three times a month.

And if I can't fall asleep in bed I'll lay down all over my place until I find a spot that works.

Living room floor, under the kitchen table, on the couch, on the balcony, in the bathtub, under the desk, in the closet, and in the hallway have been good in the past. Under the bed was a favourite until I got stuck with a lower bed frame.

Oh, and I used to drink like 400-1000mg of caffeine a day but I've been off that since February

Thanks for the ask! ♡