#I HAND DID HIS FUCKING PAISLEY

[damiandie]

◇And how does that make you feel?◇

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[letstripdotcom]

truth- matt sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n- i’m obsessed with matt in this car video⬆️

summary- you’re curious on how good your sex is so you ask the one person who you know will be brutally honest.

warnings- smut. that’s all🕺🕺

-

“i wish i could be a man but not me so then I could have sex with myself and tell myself if it’s good or not” i rambled on the phone with one of my best friends, nick sturniolo.

“y/n what the fuck?” he laughed. “i mean i- i don’t know it’s just a thought.” i sighed. “well if i liked women i would have sex with you” “thanks nick” i giggled

“why not just ask someone you’ve had sex with?” he asked very casually. “i don’t know i just feel like they wouldn’t be brutally honest” “yeah i guess you’re right. i mean you could always just ask a friend do have sex with you” he suggested.

“yeah, but who?” there was a moment of silence and thinking “mason?” he tilted his head “i haven’t talked to him in months, i feel like that would be way too awkward.” there was another brief pause “noah is cool what about him?”

“i’m pretty sure he had something going on with paisley.” “well fuck” nick said. “well i love you dearly but i gotta go. talk you you later love youuu!” he hung up the phone. i sat down an let out a long sigh. i don’t know why i was so bothered by this.

-

i pondered on the subject for days, until i found answers upon overhearing a conversation between matt and chris. i didn’t hear the whole thing but i did manage to overhear matt say “do you ever wonder if your dick is too small but everyone who has seen it is just to embarrassed to tell you?”

matt! it was perfect. i needed answers and so did he. the plan was to have sex with matt and you would tell him if his dick is small and he’ll tell me if my sex is any good. but how would i even approach that? “hey matt let’s have sex because we’re both insecure” yeah no

i sat on the sturniolos couch as you waited for the pair to go up to their rooms. when they were finally settled in upstairs, i started thinking of how you were going to ask matt. i decided to just go for it.

-

matty b

you

hey matt are you up?

matty

yeah what’s up?

you

well this may seem insane so you can say no if you want but i overheard you talking to chris earlier and i was wondering if we could make a deal.

matty

i’m listening

you

so i was wondering if we could like have sex? and i could tell you if your dick is small and you tell me if my sex is good. and we have to be brutally honest

matty

upstairs in 10?

you

see you then.

-

i shut off my phone and mentally prepared myself for what was to come. normally having sex never made me nervous, but first thing, this is matt. second thing, he’s actually gonna be brutally honest. what if i’m awful? and as bad as it sounds, what if his dick is small?

after 10 minutes passed, i headed upstairs to matt’s room. i knocked on his door and he opened it shortly after, wearing grey pajama pants and no shirt. i examined his body carefully.

the veins in his tattooed arm that’s holding the door open. the way his pants hung low on his small waist, revealing part of his boxers. his v line. his messy hair. i started to get nervous. please don’t be bad. i said to myself.

“we’ll come in” he said nervously, stepping out of the way. “so how are we gonna go about this?” i shrugged. “well we could-“ matt stopped. his hand reached out and cupped the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss.

once i eased into it, it was nice. matt’s lips were soft and plump, and he was very gentle. his unoccupied hand made its way to my waist, gently rubbing it. his tongue grazed my bottom lip, asking for access to the inside of my mouth. i let him in, and his tongue explored all of my mouth.

matt was a really good kisser and it was really turning me on. he gently made his way from my lips, to my jaw to my neck. he suckled gently enough not the leave any marks. i let out a quiet breathy moan.

he positioned both hands under my shirt and slid it off my body. he started to kiss the bare skin on my chest. wow he knows what he’s doing. he guided me to his bed and sat me on top of him.

i raked my nails gently down his bare chest, meeting the waistline of his pants. i looked at him for permission to continue and he nodded. i pulled his pants off, leaving him in his boxers.

i leaned forward and kissed him, grinding on his bulge that was only being held back by one thin layer of clothing. he grunted which seemed like a good sign

he reached around me and unhooked my bra, sliding it off. his mouth left mine and attached to one of my nipples, his hand massaging the other. i tossed my head back in pleasure. “fuck mattt” i whined. he hummed around my nipple causing me to grind harder onto him.

he separated from my chest and looked me in the eyes. “ready?” he asked “y-yeah” i nodded. he slipped down my shorts and underwear and i removed his boxers.

his dick sprung up and slapped his stomach. i swallowed nervously. definitely isn’t small. all the more reasons to be nervous. i looked at it with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

“well?” he muttered. “umm..” i paused trying to find words “definitely not small. like at all. you have nothing to worry about” i rambled “okay” he laughed. “well, my turn i guess” i sigh, lifting myself up. i slowly start to sink my way onto him. he lets out a broken whimper.

“i- fuck f-feels so good already” he gasps. i exhale the breath i didn’t know i was holding. i adjust to his size before bouncing slowly, wincing at the slight stretch. i moan at the feeling of my sticky walls hugging him.

i gradually speed up my pace. his hips start to buck upwards, meeting me halfway. this helps achieve a deeper angle. “g-good. you feel so good baby” i moan and clench at the way he said ‘baby’

“keep clenching and i won’t last much longer” he breathes. “i’m so close” i moan. “fuck y/n” he whines. i clench again, my stomach muscles tightening. “f-fuck say my name like that again” i beg “y-y/n” he moans, his voice cracking.

i came all over his dick, my legs a twitching mess. “yes yes yes. fuck matt” i whine as i ride his to his release. “i’m cumming. f-fuck yes. oh feels so good” he shouts praises as he cums. i lift myself off of him and sit down, catching my breath.

“so?” i asked. “fuck that was amazing, you have nothing to worry about. he lets out shaky breaths and collapses into my chest.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n- didn’t know how to end this but enjoy 😜

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Wants and Needs

Pairings: Husband!Travis Kelce x Wife!Reader

Words: 866

Warnings: Talks of smut, making out, nothing too crazy

Everything Travis did today was making you horny. It sounds crass, but a lot of people don’t talk about how difficult it is to basically have a “Greek god” walking around your house, especially when you’re ovulating. You wasted most of your Sunday just watching him complete chores around the house, your core twitching every time he flexed his biceps, or you got a glimpse of his bulge in the tight shorts he wore around the house. You damn near orgasmed, a small moan slipping from your lips when he got out of a shower, a small towel around his waist just begging to fall to the floor.

Technically you could jump his bones at your discretion, and he was always willing and eager, except for on one occasion. Travis had few rules when it came to his job, usually going with the flow, but there was one he had never broken in all the time you had been together: No sex the day before a game. At first you thought he was joking, what man was going to say no to sex, but he was dead serious. He claimed that sex messed with his game performance, especially sex with you, and he didn’t need any distractions with the season going so well. Unfortunately for you, for almost six months out of the year, your libido was its highest when Travis’ rule went into effect.

You were at your wits end that night. You were helping Travis pack his bag for the game, giving your input on his game day fit. “What do you think about this one?”, he walked out of the closet wearing a short sleeve paisley print top, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his hairy chest, something you usually ran your fingers through when he was on top of you. You squeezed your thighs together, your wetness beginning to soak your panties. “Y/N?” Travis’ call out to you brought you back from your fantasy. “What’s going on with you today?” he questioned as he finished placing a change of clothes in his duffle bag. You wiped your brow, the sweat permeating as you denied your needs. “What are you talking about?”, you didn’t even try to sound convincing, your resolve weakening with each passing moment.

“You’ve been eye-fucking me all day.” You let out a forced laugh when Travis wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You’re my husband. It’s in the vows, I promise to love and cherish you, and eye-fuck you around the house. Come on now.” You threw yourself back on the bed, covering your eyes with your forearm. “Seriously, what’s going on?”, Travis asked as he pulled you up from the bed, pulling you into his chest. You sunk down in his hold. “I’m horny”, you let out the tiniest whisper so Travis couldn’t hear you. “What did you say?” he leaned in closer, a smile creeping on his face. “I’m horny!”, you whined out, this time loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “I wish I could help you, but you know the rule. You’ve got a drawer full of boyfriends you could use, though”, your husband replied with a snarky tone.

“Don’t you think I tried that? It’s not the same baby, it’s not you.” You rubbed your hands up and down his chest, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, and he let out a groan. “Y/N, please” he let you go, walking back into the closet. You followed him, realizing you sounded like a brat. “Look, can we just fool around, maybe that will get my over the hump. No pun intended.” Travis grabbed you by the back of your thighs, lifted you up and carried you over to the bed. He climbed on top of you, his cross necklace grazing the tip of your nose as it swung above you. Your lips collided, Travis’ kiss deep and sensual, his hands roaming your body, sneaking underneath your shirt to cup your breast. His kisses trailed down the side of your face, reaching your neck, where he took his time placing wet kisses on your collar bone. Each kiss built up warmth in your stomach. No amount of kissing or fooling around was going to make you feel better.

“You good?” Travis searched your features for satisfaction, but you just looked defeated. “Let’s just stop”, you wiggled under the weight of his body, and he rolled over so you could get up. “Sorry baby, I just can’t.” You turned to him. “Why?”

“You know why. I need focus before the game.” Travis rolled his shoulders back, his demeanor turning serious. “But I can make you feel good”, you slid your hands down his back, straddling his thighs. “You don’t get it. I didn’t have this rule with other girls. I can’t have sex with you, because I will be a puddle for at least 48 hours after.” You hopped off of him. “Baby, I didn’t know I had that effect on you.” You couldn’t help but blush at Travis’ confession. He stood towering over you, his hands on your cheeks. “I promise you, as soon as I get home, I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk anymore. Deal?”

[seraph5]

✨ Nacho with Tattoos ✨

I defos got a little lost in the sauce with this one. Honestly when I first got this idea I just wanted to draw Nacho looking fully extra with tats and fashion just decked out to the maximum. A hard gangster. Then @silvayme was like, and I’m paraphrasing a little here, ‘this is after Nacho has become a full Salamanca’ and I was like CANON 1000% ACCEPTED. So yeah may I introduce Ignacio Salamanca. Lalo not pictured salivating off screen.

Image description: There are two images. The first is a close up and the second is a full body shot of the same digital illustration. The illustration is of Ignacio ‘nacho’ Varga standing facing a little off centre with the viewer. He has his right hand tucked in his pocket and his left hand is hanging by his hip holding a silver gun. He is wearing thick gold jewellery chains and a gold watch. His pants are formal and high waisted with double buttons. They are made of a shiny navy material with white pinstripes. His shirt is white with a subtle paisley pattern. His collar is wide and points out toward his shoulders and the first few buttons are undone showing off his chest and neck tattoos. His chest is emblazoned with a glowing ornate cross as a nod to the Jesus symbolism in Nachos story. In the middle of his throat is a large blue desert flower. Two snakes on either side are about to bite down on the flower mouths wide. Above the snakes is Nachos lucky poker chip. Visible on his left hand is a flame tattoo engulfing his hand and running up his arm and under the folded up sleeve. End description.

Also worth noting I did sort of fuck up on having Nacho hold the gun in his left hand. He shoots with both hands in the series so I’m gonna say maybe he’s ambidextrous lolll. I’ll just have to remember for next time.

[neon-lights-and-glitter]

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Series

Lips Of An Angel

You and Jack struggle with the ups and downs of your toxic relationship until you both realize you don’t want anyone else.

Fight The Feeling Prologue

You and Jack meet at a MET gala after party, and slowly fall in love while maintaining your career as a model and his career as a rapper. You keep your whirlwind romance a secret from the public and most of your friends, until Jack makes a mistake he will always regret.

Fight The Feeling

You and Jack get paired up to be in a fake relationship after keeping your real relationship and break up a secret.

I Should Be Missing You

You and Jack deal with the consequences of falling out of love while you are married. Your divorce brings you closer to Urban while Jack tries to decide if he wants you back.

Mixed Emotions

Even though they grew up together, Gabriella and Jack hated each other. As they grow older, their relationship progresses from enemies, to friends enemies with benefits. Until feelings other then hatred get involved.

Single Hearts

Jack Harlow and Sage Taylor have one thing in common: they suffered from failed relationships that they thought would last forever. After crossing paths at an amusement park, Jack missed the chance to catch her name, or so he thought. Fate had them in mind when their kids had a school concert, and they crossed paths again. After exchanging names and numbers, Jack and Sage couldn’t help but feel giddy. Could this be the beginning of something that will last a lifetime?

Drive Safe

Savannah knew she meant nothing to Jack. Sure, he saw her as someone he could rely on when he wanted someone to have sex with. Maybe he’d even consider her a friend because he didn’t want to introduce her as “the girl he fucks”, especially to his parents. That never stopped Savanah from wishing she was something more in Jack’s life even though she could never tell Jack that. She knew he would eventually hurt her, but you can’t change someone if you don’t even try. She also knew that she would get butterflies every time he told her to drive safe.

All of my Jack Harlow Fics (oldest to newest)

Saturday Night Live

The reader is a very famous actress, has been since they were a child. Jack has been very open about his crush. The reader ends up hosting Saturday Night Live the same week Jack is the musical guest.

An Evening I Will Not Forget Part 2

Jack and the reader had been friends as long as they could remember, eventually turning into boyfriend and girlfriend in high school. Until several years later when their relationship fell apart and they had to continue their lives without each other.

Missed You

Jack shows up at your house at 2am because he missed you.

Proposal

Jack takes reader on a helicopter ride in Kentucky or Miami and he proposes afterword it’s at night by the way and urban and everyone set the scene for when they land back at the helipad.

Protect You

Jack wants to keep you and him a secret to protect you and him from the media but it lowkey hurts u. Like let’s say you guys are walking back to ur hotel one night and then he sees paparazzi and instantly drops your hand and your trying to not let it bother u but when he looks up at you after dropping ur hand you have tears in your eyes and he feels bad.

Settle Down

Jack wants to settle down, but you think he should continue to focus on his career.

Mini-Me

Paisley’s first dance recital, where you find out that she truly is a mini-Jack, and Jack, you, Paisley, and Olive start a new tradition.

The Early Years

You met Urban in middle school, which eventually led you to meeting Jack in high school. Urban saw how much you two liked each other before either you or Jack did, eventually setting you two up. Causing you to realize your feelings and make your relationship official shortly after.

Paisley's First Word

You and Jack had been trying to get Paisley to say mama or dada as her first word, but when Urban returns from a trip her first word isn’t what any of you expected.

Pumpkin Patch

Taking Paisley and Olive to a pumpkin patch.

Taking Care Of You

All Jack wants to do while you’re pregnant with your first daughter, Paisley, is take care of you even if it’s something small like putting lotion on your belly. You and Jack also start to celebrate Jack’s birthday with your tradition of giving each other gifts at midnight, though this time it is a matching gift. Jack can’t sleep and ends up talking to Paisley while you’re asleep.

Gentle

Paisley watches how Jack interacts with you during your pregnancy with Olive, and with Paisley being Jack’s mini me, it only makes sense that she copies him.

After Party

Jack and the reader would rather spend the after party alone then with others.

Keeping Secrets Part 2

You decide to tell Urban about your relationship with Jack, but he doesn’t respond in the way you thought he would.

Halloween Costumes

Paisley and Olive pick out their Halloween costumes, along with yours, Jack’s, Urban’s, and Clay’s.

That's Not My Daddy

Paisley and Olive see Jack in his wigs for Saturday Night Live for the first time and Olive refuses to believe it is him.

I'm Not Jealous, Just Protective

You and Jack go out to a club when a guy approaches you to hit on you and Jack gets jealous.

I Love You Because

You are struggling after giving birth to your second daughter Olive between feeling overwhelmed and dealing with the changes that happened to your body during your pregnancies, while also comparing yourself to some of the girls in Jack’s music videos. Jack reassures you that he loves everything about you.

Christmas Date

Knowing Christmas was your favorite holiday, Jack planned a Christmas inspired day for the two of you, decorating your Christmas Tree, watching Christmas movies, looking at Christmas lights, wanting to make your first Christmas as a couple and living together special, then on Christmas you exchange gifts.

Meeting Santa

You and Jack take Paisley and Olive to meet Santa.

Christmas Eve

How you and Jack spend Christmas Eve with Paisley and Olive.

Christmas Morning

Christmas morning with the family and you and Jack, with Clays help, surprise Paisley and Olive with a special present.

Elf Emergency

Olive accidentally touches the Elf on a shelf and Paisley is afraid the elf is going to lose its magic.

24 Hours With Jack Harlow

Based off the Vogue 24 Hours With Jack Harlow video.

I Should Be Missing You

You and Jack deal with the consequences of falling out of love while you are married.

New Sibling Reactions

You and Jack tell Paisley and Olive about their new sibling, except Olive isn’t ready to be a big sister.

Touring & Pregnancy Tests

Towards the end of the Come Home The Kids Miss You tour, you and Jack find out you’re pregnant with baby number 3.

Aren't You Nervous?

How you and Jack find out you are pregnant with your first born, Paisley.

Memories

You and Jack take Paisley and Olive to the park you went to a lot while dating, where they ask you questions about your relationship.

Baby Brother Or Baby Sister

You and Jack tell Paisley and Olive if they are getting a baby brother or a baby sister.

Officially Outnumbered

You give birth to your and Jack's third baby. Paisley and Olive meet their little brother.

First Concert

You and Jack take Paisley to the Eras tour, which happens to be their first concert other then watching Jack preform.

Pool Day

You, Jack, Paisley, Olive, and Hayden spend a day in the pool.

Christmas Day

You, Jack, Paisley, Olive, and Hayden celebrate Christmas.

10 Years Later

You and Jack felt like your family was complete after four kids, but you start thinking about having a fifth baby.

She's Totally Flirting With You

Jack gets hit on by a waitress, though he thinks she's just being nice, Paisley and Olive come to your defense to convince Jack she's flirting with him.

Insta AU’s

Date Night

My Girl

Paisley’s Pregnancy & Birth Announcement 

Olive’s Pregnancy & Birth Announcement

Christmas Trees & Gingerbread Houses

Valentine’s Day

Baby #3 Pregnancy Announcement

Concepts

[ofstoriesandstardust]

when i get where i’m going (jake “hangman” seresin)

a/n: i’ve enjoyed writing this mini-series. make sure to read the original and the follow-up prequel before reading this.

inspired by “when i get where i’m going” by brad paisley and dolly parton 

summary: a career change and unexpected life event brings you and your brother Tyler to San Diego. and unfortunately, back into the orbit of Jake Seresin. a devastating loss could change the tide of your life and your relationship with him.

memory i don’t mess with | break up in a small town

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: minor character death, brief reference to death from a terminal illness, yes two people die what else do you expect from me, swearing, i still don’t know how the military works sue me, Iceman is in fact actually alive and healthy because I said so, i’m terrible at writing grief so i just Don’t, Hangman is very much “I hate everyone but you and your little brother” in this fic and i’m not changing it, medical inaccuracies 

word count: 5,881

You sighed as you sat down next to your brother Tyler on the couch. The house felt quiet, but the two of you knew why. It’d only been a week since your Mom passed, but the two of you have been dealing with your grief better than expected. You’ve long prepared yourself for what was going to happen, ever since she got sick when you were 16, not long after your Dad died. It’d been a miracle she’d held on as long as she had and even more so of a miracle was that the periods where she’d been good had been as great and long-lasting as they were. You were blessed to have had the time you did with her and you were glad she was no longer in pain. You reached out for your brother’s hand, squeezing it. “There’s some place better.” You whispered. He squeezed your hand back, sighing. 

“I know.” He whispered and you pulled him into a hug. “By the way, I got my basic orders today.” Tyler mumbled. He had decided to enlist in the Navy not long before your Mom had passed. “Guess where?” He said, a small smirk forming on his face. You raised your eyebrow. 

“Don’t tell me...”

“Miramar baby!” He exclaimed and you groaned. “I’ve already called Jake to tell him. He’s taking me out for a beer when I land.” 

“I fucking hate you.” You said, shaking your head with laughter as you took a sip of your beer. Your brother liked Jake too much, probably always would. The two had been as close as brothers when you’d dated him and the break-up had ripped Jake out of his life so quickly. You couldn’t hate your little brother for wanting at least some semblance of that back. Tyler laughed openly. “But on that note, I heard back from the people at the USS Midway today.” As things had turned dire with your Mom not long after your run-in with Jake at the farmers’ market, you and your brother had prepared yourselves for life after Mom. Part of that included looking for new jobs. You’d only been able to go to college within the last 5 years or so, with Tyler finally being older and you’d finished your grad program the same time Tyler did his undergrad. A new job and a fresh start only made sense, which is how you found yourself applying for a job in San Diego on a whim. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking of Jake after seeing him at the farmers market that day. Your brother nudged you. 

“Hey that’s great, did they offer you the job?” 

“That and then some. They offered me double the pay of what I originally applied for and a higher position. Apparently my application stood out because of my experience.” 

“So...” Tyler prompted, waving his hand. Of course he knew there was more, there always was. 

“So I have a proposition for you.” He nodded, urging you to continue. “I take the job. You have basic there. We sell the house, Uncle is already taking over the business. After basic...” You said, sighing. That’s where your plan always stopped. 

“I ask to be stationed at the base in San Diego. I intend to make my way to TOPGUN eventually anyways so.” Your brother stated with such confidence you felt like it was actually Jake you were having this conversation with. 

“We moving to San Diego together?”

“Sounds like it.” The two of you clinked beers and settled in, ready to discuss and dissect the next phase of your lives. 

-

Jake watched the young boy saunter into the Hard Deck. He still had a hard time believing that this kid was still the same that he had babysit all those years ago. Played football with, hiked with, and even taught how to swim in the lake during summers. Tyler spotted Jake’s tall frame where he was playing pool with his team and Jake waved, a bright smile on his face. Tyler made his way over, going straight for the hug. Jake adored this kid, hugs included. “Tyler man, it’s great to see you!” He said, chuckling. 

“Likewise, Seresin.” Tyler said, smile just as bright. Jake introduced him to the crew and then offered to get him a beer. Tyler nodded and Jake offered to buy the next round for the whole crew. 

“What’s your story kid, if Hangman here’s being so nice to us?” Fanboy asked, leaning on his pool cue. Tyler laughed. 

“My sister was his high school sweetheart.” Hangman did not miss the way Phoenix choked slightly on her beer. 

“You, keep a girlfriend?” Rooster chuckled. 

“I invited her by the way. My sister.” Tyler said, turning slightly. “She’s wonderful, you’ll all love her.” He said, turning back to the group. “She’s running late, they don’t close until 5 and I know her boss wanted to go over how her first day went. She might ghost me though, she’s being weird about being around you.” Tyler said, this time in direction to Jake. The irony of the situation, of Tyler being here, was not lost on Jake, but he intended to make the most of it. Ever since he saw you that day at the farmers market, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He was still as in love with you as he was the day the two of you broke up. Jake collected the beers from Penny, the bar being fairly quiet. He wished it had been noisy so he could’ve avoided Tyler’s next question. “Why’d the two of you break up anyways?” Jake sighed, passing the beers out to the group. 

“Tyler, man. You gotta hit me with the hard questions so soon?” Tyler shrugged, taking the pool cue from Payback. 

“My goal for basic is to get the two of you back together. I need to know what I’m working with.” Jake exhaled, trying to not let this kid down. For being an adult, he’s not sure he’d ever stop seeing him as a kid the same way you’d never not see Tyler as your baby brother. 

“Tyler, your sister moved on pretty quickly after we broke up. I doubt that after all this time she’s even thinking about the possibility of us getting back together.” Tyler raised an eyebrow. 

“That kid? Nah, they didn’t date. He certainly wanted to, and told everyone they were, but they didn’t. She flipped her shit when she found out what he’d been telling everyone, poured a beer on his head in front of all their friends apparently.” Jake was taken aback. He didn’t know that. He’d assumed- “The two of you are meant for each other and we all know it.” Jake gaped at the boy as he made a shot that effectively shut Rooster out from the rest of the game, unphased. Phoenix raised her eyebrows as the boys began to cheer, or groan, depending on who they were rooting for. Jake sighed. 

“Tyler, I love and care about your sister. Always will. I love you kid, you’re like my brother and you can call me for whatever you need, whenever you need it, no matter what. But some people just aren’t meant to be together. Your sister and I are some of those people.” Tyler raised an eyebrow, clearly taking that as a challenge. 

“We’ll see.” 

-

You had, in fact, decided to join the crew for a drink, Jake noted as he emerged from the bathroom. The business in the bar had picked up a bit as he made his way back to the pool table. You were sandwiched in between Phoenix and Bob, Rooster leaning against his pool cue (much to the obvious annoyance of Coyote, who was trying to play against Rooster) as the four of you had an active conversation. You looked happy and that was all Jake could hope for. Tyler had filled him in and he couldn’t image the kind of stress you were under, trying to sell your house back home, your brother starting basic the next day, a new job, a move across the country, all on top of the fact that you were dealing with the loss of your Mom. Jake hadn’t been able to go to the funeral, on a mission that week, and he regretted flying it as soon as he landed. He should’ve been there for you. Of course, that wasn’t really his place anymore, was it? He appeared next to Fanboy, who was listening to Tyler tell a story about the time Jake had gone swimming and came out of the water only to discover leeches on him. He cringed. It hadn’t been fun at the time and while everyone else had come to laugh about it, Jake still hated the idea of being anywhere near that specific lake again. “Surprised you remember that, kid. You were like... six.” Hangman laughed, raising his beer to his lips. 

“How long did the two of you date?” Bob asked, heading swinging between him and you. 

“Mmm,” you said, lips pursed in thought. “Four years? Yeah, just about ‘cause Jake asked me to homecoming freshman year and we started dating homecoming night.” 

“So I want to go back to the question Tyler asked earlier about why the two of you broke up.” Rooster asked, leaning on the pool table. You visibly hesitated and Jake took another swig of beer. He decided in that moment that he was not about to out you to his friends, or your brother for that matter, about the decision you had made. 

“Mutual decision.” Lie. “Our lives were going in separate directions.” Less of a lie. “Only love though, baby.” Truth. 

-

Tyler quickly became part of the crew as he tagged along to nights out when he could, you in tow because Jake knew you and he knew you weren't going to pass up any minute you could spend with your brother while he was still around. You seemed to be handling the Navy thing surprisingly well, right up until Tyler had gotten his advanced training orders. He would be at the base in San Diego, still uncertain for how long, but Jake suspected this made it more real as to what was happening. It wasn’t until a night when Maverick had dragged Admiral Kazansky out to the Hard Deck with him that you’d changed your tune. Hangman doubted you’d ever be fully pro-your brother being in the Navy and at risk of dying but whatever Kazansky had said had calmed you down. You were forming a closer friendship his crew, especially Rooster and Phoenix, and Jake knew that had to be helping. And while you were certainly aware of Tyler’s blatant attempts at getting the two of you back together, you were warming up to Jake, letting him back into your life piece by piece. Jake wasn’t sure when his end goal became getting back together with you but Jake could work with slowly. It was a start. 

-

Another six months later, and it was Tyler’s last night in town. He was leaving for deployment early in the morning and you seemed ready to jump out of your skin. When Tyler had joked that the next time he’d be back in San Diego, it would be to be part of the TOPGUN program (even though the timeline was almost impossible, although not improbable), you’d nearly wrung his neck right then and there, in front of Maverick and Admiral Kazansky and God and everyone. Jake had made the executive decision to send everyone home, particularly to get you away from your brother before you popped a vein from stress. The group quickly parted ways after that but Jake hung back as you said goodbye to your brother. He felt like an an intruder but he also felt like he should say goodbye to the kid who was family to him too. Jake watched the way you clung tightly to him as he said goodbye and tried not to make it obvious he was watching. The two of you eventually parted and Tyler made his way to Jake. Jake wrapped him in a hug before Tyler ever fully reached him. “If I don’t come back-” Tyler whispered. 

“Don’t say that.” Jake whispered sharply, grip on the boy tightening. 

“If I don’t come back, take care of my sister please. She doesn’t have anyone else looking out for her.” Jake swallowed, eyes shutting briefly. 

“Don’t ask me to do that. You’re going to be fine.” 

“Please Jake. I need to know that if I go, she’s going to be okay. Please.” 

“It’ll be okay bud. I’ll take care of her, no matter what. You’re gonna come home, I know it. Don’t make your sister bury someone else.” 

“Same goes for you Seresin.”

“Love you kid.” Tyler squeezed Jake. 

“Love you. Thanks for looking out for me all these years.” Jake nodded. 

“See you in six and a half months.” Jake said as he tipped an imaginary cowboy hat, the Southern drawl making an appearance. Tyler laughed, turning towards his car. 

“I love you Ty!” You shouted across the parking lot as you and Jake made the walk to your respective cars in the opposite direction. 

“Love you too!” The boy had shouted and the two of you waved as he drove away. You sighed, kicking a rock on the ground as you came to a halt outside your car. 

“I’m so worried about him Jake.” You muttered, rubbing your temple. 

“He’s gonna be okay.” Jake offered, knowing there wasn’t much he could say to alleviate what you were going through. Suddenly, he was thankful (for the first time in his life) you’d made that decision all those years ago, unsure if he could’ve handled doing this every time he had left. It was a lot to watch the girl he loved go through this and the guilt he would’ve felt being the one to put you through it? Maybe it had been for the best. 

“I wish you were going with him. I’d feel so much better if you were going with him, because at least then I know he’s got somebody to look after him.”

“Yeah, but I’m here to look after you.” You shrugged.

“I moved out here for him, Jake. I only took the job at the Midway because he was gonna be here. And I obviously knew it wasn’t gonna last forever but this feels different. This feels final and I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing out here if there’s no Tyler. I’m scared and confused and I just-” Jake pulled you into a hug, effectively cutting you off. 

“You got me. You always got me. Phoenix adores you as does Bob. Rooster’s taken a liking to you and if you disappear don’t think Coyote won’t hunt you down at your place of work and drag you to Penny’s for a beer. Payback and Fanboy have personally been taking bets as to which one of them can get you up in a plane first. Maverick likes having you around because you entertain Kazansky and honestly that man probably sees you as an extension of our crew at this point. You got friends out here. You got a family. Tyler’s gonna be okay, but even if he isn’t, you’re gonna be okay too.” Jake said honestly. His friends adored you and Tyler hasn’t been the only one pushing for the two of you to get back together. Jake held out hope but he wasn’t pushing anything. The last year had been a lot for you and right now he was just grateful to have you in his life at all. You sighed against his chest. “Tell you what. You get news about Tyler, good or bad, you call me. Day or night, I want to know. I’ll be the first to know and I’ll be there no matter what, you understand?” You nodded. “Alright, go home, get some sleep. We can get breakfast in the morning if you want, I know you don’t go in until 1 tomorrow.” You nodded again, pulling away from Jake. He turned to walk back towards his car but you called out his name. He turned to face you, hands in his pocket. 

“Thank you. For everything.”

- 

Jake immediately knew something was wrong the minute he entered the Hard Deck. You were standing next to Rooster and Maverick, your eyes wild, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. You looked ready to bolt the minute someone said something to you and Jake knew. He just knew. He called out for you and you turned, eyes widening as you saw him. He felt Phoenix’s presence behind him as he made his way towards you, and as he saw Rooster’s panicked face, Jake’s heart sunk. Any doubts he had about what was happening were gone. It hadn’t even been two weeks since Tyler had left for deployment...

He paused in front of you, concern evident. He reached out to touch you but in your panicked state he wasn’t sure that was the smartest idea. You gripped the counter of the bar tightly as you looked up into his eyes. “The Navy called.” You whispered. “He’s- Jake- Tyler’s dead.” Jake felt his world spinning as you said it, finding his balance on the bar. The kid who thought he was invincible, gone, just like that? “My baby brother’s dead.” You said, dam breaking and Jake’s arms shot out for you as your body crumpled. You clutched at his shirt, still slightly damp from his shower after training today. He pulled you close, unable to bring himself to offer any sort of comfort. What could he say? 

What happened next was a blur and honestly, he’s not entirely sure how you wound up in Phoenix’s apartment but he was grateful nonetheless. You were sitting on the couch with your head in your hands and Coyote was crouched in front of you, talking to you softly. He got up, knowing you were in good hands. He needs to call his sister, he thought. They need to know what’s happening. His family had looked out for you and Tyler long after your relationship ended, even if they didn’t know he knew that. He wandered into the kitchen, already hearing the dial tone before he noticed Phoenix and Bob. Their conversation paused and he leaned up against the counter. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Hello?” Came the voice of his sister Sascha. 

“Sasch, I need you to do me a favor.” 

“K, what’s up?”

“Call Mom. Tell her (Y/N) is gonna be coming out there, probably no later than tomorrow night. Depends on when we can get her a flight. I might be coming too but she needs somewhere to stay and I’d prefer to not put her in a hotel by herself right now.” 

“Jake, what’s happening?” 

“I’ll explain later.”

“Well, quite frankly, I don’t want to do anything for either of you unless you’re telling me you’re getting back together.” Jake sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Sasch-” He noted Rooster’s presence in the kitchen, gesturing for him to come out to the living room. He could hear Maverick’s voice, talking to you. He held up a finger, needing to get his sister on board. 

“You are soulmates and you know it.”

“Sasch, this really isn’t the time to be-”

“You know Jake, there really isn’t a good time to get back together with your ex-girlfriend but really, the two of you breaking up was a mistake and you know that.”

“Sascha.” He said firmly, losing his patience. 

“Listen Jake, I love you but-”

“Sascha, Tyler’s dead.” He winced at the bluntness but she would’ve kept going and that was not the point of the conversation. There was dead silence for a few minutes and Jake got worried. “Sasch?”

“Yeah, I’m here Jake. I’ll- I’ll call Mom, see what we can do. Should I reach out to (Y/N)?” 

“No, no don’t let her know you know just yet. I’ll text you and let you know when I have more details. I gotta go make sure she’s okay.” 

“Okay. Go take care of your girl Jake.” 

“Love you Sasch.”

“Love you too Jake.” He sighed, ending the call and pulling the phone away from his ear. He made his way back to the living room, where Phoenix and Bob had joined. Maverick was here apparently too. He leaned up against the wall as Maverick asked if you wanted him to call anyone for you. You shook your head. 

“Don’t have any family left. He was it.” You muttered and then looked up to him. “Where’d you go?”

“Called my sister.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously.

“Because you’re going back home and you’re staying with them. Don’t think I don’t know how much of a family they still are to you. You need to be with them right now.”

“You’re going with her.” Maverick spoke, self-assured as if the matter had been already settled. Jake startled from his position off the wall. 

“Maverick-” He started but the man cut him off with the wave of his hand. 

“It’s already been arranged. You need to be with her right now. The team will be here when you get back.” He gaped, unsure if he should thank Maverick or give him a hug. “The two of you leave tonight.” Maverick turned to Jake. “And no, you don’t get a say.” Maverick said, shoving the boarding passes into his chest. Jake clutched at the paper, mouth still wide open. The moment was ruined however, by Rooster. 

“Close that mouth Bagman, you’ll catch flies.” 

-

Hangman spotted his crew before you did. Bob had called him late the night before, stating that they had been able to make something work and that they were all going to be joining the two of you for the funeral. You’d pitched an absolute fit at the idea of having Tyler buried in a military cemetery in California and the Navy had lost that battle before it ever even started. So, the two of you were in your hometown for the funeral, and yes, even Maverick was coming. You didn’t know that yet though. He winked as he saw them come through the door, your attention still focused on his sister. His team was in their military uniforms, including him, and their team had rarely felt this cohesive. Phoenix wrapped you in a hug as everyone else crowded around and you looked over at her in surprise and shock. “What’re you doing here?” You asked, eyes flitting over the rest of the team. 

“C’mon, you think we were gonna let you do this alone?” Coyote asked, opening his arms for a hug. You smiled and gave it to him. 

“Never.” Rooster confirmed, pulling you from Coyote for his own equally tight hug. Jake’s mom wandered out from the hall. 

“C’mon, it’s starting soon. Let’s go sit.” She said, ushering the group in. Jake watched you cautiously out of the corner of his eye as you pulled Phoenix down to sit next to you through the ceremony but honestly, for what the day was, you seemed to be... okay. His parents had taken over all of the planning, leaving you and Jake to your own devices for the last week. The two of you had gone riding on his ranch and out to the lake and to the bookstore and to the diner and all the places you used to. It felt normal and right, despite the reason you were both there. You were healing on your own time and while you’d grow around the grief, and it was hard right now, he knew bringing you home had been the best decision he could’ve made. He felt someone slip their hand into his and he looked down at your hands clasped together. He wasn’t sure you even realized you did it as his sister gave a speech. He squeezed it, pulling you closer as you started to cry. As the ceremony finished up and people began to file out for the celebration of life that was happening afterwards, you stayed to talk to his sister and team. Two of the pilots who’d served with your brother, Golden and Petals, had come out for the funeral, and you chatted with them as well. Maverick wandered over from his place in the back of the room, a quiet observer as he seemed to be in most things. He clasped your shoulder and you looked up at him, quickly standing. 

“Captain.” You said, nodding your head and Jake didn’t miss the way Rooster nodded his head to everyone else, gesturing to give the two some space. Jake opted to hang back because he’d be damned if he left you right now. The two of you made small talk as the team filtered out but Jake remained planted. When Maverick noted everyone else was gone, he awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“I know... I know you didn’t want any part of the military proceedings for the funeral, but I uh, I thought you should have this.” Maverick revealed a folded up flag and Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He knew what that flag symbolized and represented, what the honor meant for Tyler. He knew you knew it too from the way you stared at Maverick. Maverick held out the flag nervously, unsure if you would take it. You instead attacked Maverick in a tight hug. Maverick had taken Tyler on a few flights, given him a bit of an education and Maverick wouldn’t admit it, but you and your brother had become an extension of his team, integral parts. Maverick returned the hug, still clutching on to the flag. Jake quickly took it from him, so that Maverick could properly hug you. You finally pulled away from the older man, tears pricking at your eyes. You laughed lightly, wiping them away. Maverick excused himself quietly, leaving you and Jake alone in the funeral hall. You took his hand and rested your chin on his chest. Jake brought your intertwined hands to his mouth and gently kissed your knuckles. 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment or the day,” He muttered, after a few moments of comfortable silence. “But we do need to talk at some point. About this, about us.” You nodded against his chest. 

“I know.” There was another brief pause as you came up to clutch Jake’s uniform. “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.” He kissed the top of your head, arm now moving down to your waist to bring you close. 

“Never baby.”

-

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur, with Jake never once leaving your side. He refused to leave you alone, and his team stayed close as well. While Jake had another week of leave to be with you, his team had to leave early tomorrow morning. They’d wound up back at his house after the celebration of life, Maverick in the kitchen talking to his parents as the team sat in the living room with him and his sister. You were sat on the floor going through old photos with his sister, Phoenix, Rooster and Bob, as he chatted to Fanboy Coyote, and Payback. Phoenix was giggling at a photo from freshman year homecoming while Bob and Rooster had some from Halloween of your junior year. Sascha was flipping through the baby photos, trying to find the infamous one of him when you breathed sharply and stood up, sitting next to him on the couch. Coyote paused as Jake’s attention shifted to you and the photo you were holding. He took it from you, a mix of emotions settling in his chest as he registered what it was. 

There he was, tall as ever, with Tyler on his shoulders. Maybe a year or so before you’d broken up, at your Dad’s funeral. Despite Tyler being only 8 or 9 at the time, just having to bury his father, he was smiling as Jake looked up at him. 

He felt his throat close with emotion as he recalled that day, that exact moment. 

He’d held Tyler in his arms through the funeral, the boy getting to be just a little too lanky to be easy to hold but he’d wanted to be close to Jake and he was in no position to be denying what was practically his brother that. It was a bright and sunny day in their hometown, despite the fact that you’d just had to bury your father and as you stood talking to some family friends, he’d been talking to your Mom. Tyler, who’d been passed over to your Uncle after the ceremony, broke free, and raced over to him. He let out a small oof as the child collided with his legs and he looked down. He was crying and without hesitation, picked him up, and whispered “I know what will make you feel better bud.” He lifted him to his shoulders, holding him in place. He was suddenly thankful for all the conditioning Coach put them through as he bounced the kid around, still talking to your Mom as Tyler had laughed. You had smiled softly at them as you made your way over to them with his family. He had just barely heard Sascha’s words, ones he probably wasn’t meant to hear, before they decided to go back to his family’s ranch for the rest of the afternoon. 

“I hope you marry him (Y/N), I really do.” 

“What is it?” His Mom called from the doorway. He cleared his throat, trying to blink back the tears. 

“It’s Ty and I, from the funeral.” He called, still looking at the picture. 

“He loved you Jake, he really did. You were his brother and I’m sorry I ripped him out of your life.” You whispered and he shook his head, setting the picture down on the arm of the couch next to him. He grabbed your arm, pulling you into a hug as his Mom walked over to the couch to look at the photo herself. 

“None of that matters now.” He whispered into your hair as your arms wrapped around him. 

“I want you to have that photo. I mean, I guess, technically it’s already yours, but...” He chuckled, pulling away. 

“No, I- thank you.” 

-

It was the last night at home and the two of you were sat on his porch swing, sipping beers as you recounted what the two of you had been up to in the years since you’d been apart. He knew that the two of you needed to have a conversation about where things stood between the two of you but you were still grieving so he didn’t bring it up. You’d come to him when you were ready, he trusted you to do that. As the two of you looked out onto the night, the conversation lulled, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. You were settled into his side and his arm was wrapped around you. You shifted and he looked down at you. You were looking at him with such sincere honesty he felt his mouth go dry. “Jake, I’m-” He shook his head but you kept going. “I’m sorry for making that decision so many years ago and I- I still love you. I’ve never stopped. You were the best part of me and letting you go- I was a fool. And I’ve- I’ve regretted it everyday. And-” As you asked, you had slowly shifted upwards, and he realized you were going to try to kiss him. He grabbed up my your arms, setting you back down on the swing gently. 

“(Y/N), no.” A flash of hurt crossed your face and he willed himself to keep going. “(Y/N), you’re hurting right now. Your brother just died. And I’m not going to take advantage of you like this.”

“Jake, I don’t-” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to you or me. Because the truth is, I never stopped loving you either, but emotions are running high right now, for the both of us, and it just- it isn’t a good idea.” He sighs, letting go of you. Jake loved you, but you were hurting right now and he didn’t want to get hurt because you’d only wanted him as you grieved or hurt you because he took advantage of your grief to get the girl back. He wouldn’t do that. The two of you were going to do this right. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” You whispered, pointedly not meeting his eye. 

“(Y/N), trust me. I want to, but you need time. We can talk about this in a few months when things have settled. I’m not going to go anywhere, but now’s not the time.” If Rooster and Phoenix could see him now, they’d never believe the things he was saying but he didn’t want to mess this up. You were the only girl he wanted, the only girl he’d ever loved, and he wasn’t going to do anything that would cost him you ever again. 

-

It’d been 8 months since Tyler’s funeral and the two of you were sitting in the back of his truck, eating In’N’Out and looking out at the beach and the stars. You’d settled into California life nicely, making a group of friends of your own, and although you still made your way to the Hard Deck with him at least once a week, your life was busy. The first few months had been rough but you were resilient, and continued to grow around your grief. He knew you missed Tyler, but he knew Tyler wanted you to be happy, and you were doing your best to make him proud everyday. He watched as you laughed, so carefree, and he smiled fondly, glad you were so happy. Your laughter faded as you eyed him. “What’s on your mind Seresin?” You asked, scooting closer to him. His hand, came up to push a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

“I love you.” He whispered and your breathing stuttered. “I- I want to try again, if you think you’re ready.” 

“Jake, I-” You whispered. 

“Only if you want to.” He whispered, one of his hands finding yours. “You’ll keep me either way, but I needed to be honest.” 

“Of course I want to try again Seresin, I told you when Ty died that I never stopped loving you.” He smiled softly.

“Great, then now I can do this again without feeling guilty.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was short, just to test the waters, but you brought a hand up to rest at the nape of his neck, not letting him go far. “I’ve missed doing that.” He whispered and you smiled against his cheek. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“You know, your brother is definitely screaming that it took us long enough.” He whispers, chuckling. You snort. 

“Way to ruin the moment.” He scoffed in protest.

“What, like I’m wrong?” 

[dustin4ce]

remind me.

ex-boyfriend!robert downey jr x female!reader

a/n: hihi, this is based off that song remind me by brad paisley & carrie underwood bc im a country boy and it's one of my favorites :o, if u haven't heard the song uhhhh go listen to it before reading this so u kinda get the context lolol.

warnings: mentions of past relationship, cursing (sorry i went a little overboard), veeeryyy quick mention of sex, robert being an asshole, reader slaps rdj

reader finally expresses herself!! amen, sorry no happy ending </3

life was perfect. everything was going the way you wanted it to. your career was going well, you had a lot of cool friends who cared about you. you had full custody of your son, which was really great since his dad was a piece of shit. everything was perfect, almost. everything would've been perfect if you didn't see your ex, and have all your feelings come back.

the movie premiere was going great. you nailed interviews without giving too much detail about the movie, which was a big improvement for you. you and your date, who was just your best friend, looked fantastic! you were loving every moment. until the white audi pulled up, and the guy, who you swore up and down that you were over, got out. cheers ran through your ears, the fans going crazy. how could they not? robert downey jr. just stepped out of his car and looked like he could get anyone he wanted. your mouth went dry as he walked up to the carpet. "mother fucker." you mumbled, you didn't know he'd be here. you had to pull yourself together! this guy left you high and dry after almost a year of swearing he was so in love with you. you guys are were the it couple. he made eye contact with you and smiled. he fucking smiled?! this asshole had the audacity to smile at you like he didn't ghost you! the interviewer called him over to talk to him while you were there, and of course he walked over. everyone knew about your breakup because he had gone public with another woman, quick fling you guessed, she was gone faster than light. "hey!" robert beamed, quickly side hugging you. "oh, hi, didn't realize you'd be here." you gave tight smile. the interviewer started to ask questions, but before you could answer, robert interrupted. "we're still good friends." liar. you guys had no communication, you weren't gonna lie to the public. "if you call not talking good friends, then we sure are great!" this caused robert to frown, he didn't want to create a scene, so he kept his mouth shut. you guys finished the interview before walking away, robert followed you. "why would you say that?" he asked. "why'd you ghost me?" you shot back. "you know i stuff going on!" he raised his voice. "you don't get to raise your voice at me, robert! i loved you! i was there for you!" you huffed, you had given this man a year of your life. 8760 hours of your life basically wasted. "i had let you into my life! i let you into my son's life! he saw you as a dad! he was so sad when you randomly disappeared, he blamed himself!" you yelled at him. "he's four!" robert looked absolutely lost. you raised your hand and slapped him across the face. "he's still a person!" you huffed, deep down you hated yelling at him. you loved him, still. you still dreamt about him. the way he'd smile at you. how his lips would kiss yours, oh so softly. the way everyone would yell at you both to get a room when you laid PDA on a little too heavy at the red carpets you'd go to. when you'd kiss him bye before he left for work like it was the last time seeing each other. the sleepless nights where you'd both say goodnight then end up making love. the days you'd purposely make him late by slipping on his shirt to distract him from work. you still loved him and you wanted him to know. "look, i messed up, but i can't go back and change what i did! you just have to accept it." you felt absolutely broken when he said this. "i can't. i just can't, robert. i still think about you, i still love you. i can't get rid of the way you made me feel. i can't get rid of the love i felt when i saw you be a dad to my son. i can't forget anything." you had tears in your eyes by this point, you couldn't lie anymore. "i didn't realize you felt that way." robert whispered. "because you never asked.. goodbye robert." you walked away wiping your eyes to continue your night. you couldn't let him bring you down, you had gotten the weight off your chest, it was time to move on. you had to become your own person as you left him there as heartbroken as he left you when he didn't say bye.

[lovelytsunoda]

behind the clouds ( iii ) // charles leclerc

summary: charles challenges judge bacri to a drag race, hoping that it will get him out of radiator springs faster. in the process, he also discovers that mateo and y/n aren’t that bad.

pairing: alfa romeo!charles x female reader

warnings: horrifically inaccurate drag race, sexual innuendos. mentions of jules ( may he rest in peace ) and charles's dad ( may he also rest in peace ).

authors note: part THREE of the radiator springs series based on disney pixar’s ‘cars’. so sorry that this has taken so long, i got distracted with the cozy collection and then monza is for believers! i hope you enjoy : )

it was another beautiful morning in radiator springs when emilie opened her diner at exactly six in the morning. l

the bustling diner was fifties themed: all red vinyl booths, bright linoleum countertops, elvis playing on the jukebox, a big poster of the ronettes behind the counter where emilie was standing by the old fashioned cash register. the diner must have been quite something in it's heyday, but when the decline in tourists began, so did radiator springs' downfall. the diner that was once packed to the brim was now half full on a good day.

ike clockwork, lukas and giovanni came in half an hour after opening for their full english breakfasts and coffee.

and also shockingly early in the morning, y/n y/l/n appeared to gather meals to bring to none other than the bane of her existence: charles leclerc.

she had thought about the devilishly handsome race car driver more often than she should have, thoughts about his delicious accent and distracting thighs keeping her up at night, fighting the urge to slip her hand down her cotton pajama shorts.

charles leclerc was fucking with her head, and she couldnt stand it.

"bringing racer boy a meal again?" emilie asked, quirking an eyebrow at the young lawyer as she packed another brown bag. "is there something we should know about? please tell me that you're at least using protection!"

"emilie!" y/n shouted in disbeleif. "come on, we all know volkov is barely feeding the guy. a growing boy like him needs to eat, and god knows his personal trainers probably dont let him eat anything with fat or grease."

"oh, i bet he gives you a different kind of grease, if you catch my drift, y/n." emilie chuckled. "romain said his car is gonna take a few weeks, you and leclerc might as well have some fun." the woman encouraged, pouring out a mug of coffee for one of the truckers sitting at the counter.

charles' face had been printed on every single newspaper printed in the last week, seemingly backing up the story he had attempted to tell the night that he was arrested. but bacri wasn't letting up, the judge deciding that now was not the time to reverse his decision. he'd been the judge in radiator springs for twenty five years, and he wasn't about to go back on a decision just because the accused was famous.

and y/n was partially grateful that she had made the man stay in town. she enjoyed getting to know charles, even if he was a bit of a jerk sometimes.

"that's enough, i'm leaving." y/n rolled her eyes, grabbing the keys for her porsche. "i've got two truckers staying at the inn tonight, and I gave a key to leclerc but i don't think he's made up his mind. i'd prefer if he stayed though. i don't really want to be alone with truckers for too long."

"it's a hallmark movie waiting to happen!" emilie shouted after her as she exited the diner through the front door, cutting of the end of the older woman's sentence with a smile and the slam of the glass door.

____________

charles had tried to force himself to eat breakfast. he really had.

but the sherriff of radiator springs was a worse cook than charles' own brother, arthur, and that was saying something. the driver was lying on the sad excuse of a mattress, staring at the ceiling and weighing his options. there had to be something he could do to get to germany in time, something other than speed-running the assignment and half-assing the garden.

the sound of a lock turning over made him jump, breathing heavily as he stared at the wooden door. the door swung inwards, a familiar face behind it.

y/n's hair fell in dutch braids over her shoulders, and she was dressed in a dainty summer romper with short, billowy sleevs and a v-neck that showed off her collarbones but didn't quite go down far enough to give charles a view of her breasts.

the intrepid young lawyer had been on charles' mind since the hearing, made even worse after she basically handed him keys to her house.

and he was seriously debating taking her up on that offer: better food, a better bed, and better company.

"i brought you breakfast from emilie's." she closed the door behind her, clearly intent on staying. "and i also wanted to ask if you could stay at the inn tonight? there are a couple truckers passing through, and i'm sure im worrying for nothing, they just look a little shifty and i don't really want to be there alone."

how could charles say no to a damsel in distress?

"yeah, sure. i can do that. but i feel like i should be doing something in return for you?"

"if you ever get back on the circuit, you can bring publicity back to radiator springs. lord knows this town needs it."

there was something wistful in her voice, something that pulled at charles' heart strings.

"i challenged that judge friend of your to a race. if i win, i get out of here." the driver said slowly, through a mouthful of fried egg. "people are probably worried sick, and that bastard volkov still has my phone. and my wallet."

y/n sighed. "thats the shittiest idea you've had yet, leclerc. even worse than that little private island suggestion you made in the courtroom."

charles flushed pink. "shit, i'm sorry about that. it was entitled of me and uncalled for."

"yeah, it was. i'll talk to volkov, see about getting you your stuff back. but are you sure that you want to go through with your plan? hilaire is a little bit of a legend around here. even romain can't beat him and god knows the guy has tried. have you ever even driven a stock car? it'll be a dirt race."

the radiator springs stock car race had been a big deal once upon a time, a tourist draw for the town. the curated collection of stock cars was still at mateo's, parked in a back lot.

hilaire bacri was the reigning champion, bit nobody knew how he had gotten that good. he was a straitlaced law student who graduated from oxford, not the kind of american heathens who were into nascar. emilie's husband romain had been driving anything with four wheels since he was twelve years old, a former karting champion who made it as far as formula renault in the mid-eighties before an accident ruined the muscles in his leg and he was told he could never drive competitively again.

over time, the tourists stopped coming, so the racing and the pageantry stopped. one of the many things that had dried up in the town. y/n missed stock car weekend. she and emilie had made a good team way back when.

charles scoffed "it can;t be that much different than what I normally drive."

"you keep telling yourself that, racer boy." y/n smiled, secretly looking forward to watching charles in his element. "i watched some of your old races. you weren't terrible, but your team is shite."

"the end goal is to get into ferrari, and that's why i need to be in germany. it's for jules, what he would have wanted."

it had been almost five years, but everything charles still felt about jules bianchi was raw and laced with emotion. all he wanted was to make his loved ones proud, to fulfill something that jules had died trying to accomplish, something his father would never see him do.

he just wanted to make them proud.

"you'll get to germany in time. i promise."

____________

the sun was high in the air as the residents of radiator springs gathered in the dust fields to watch charles leclerc race against the town's judge. gio and luk were decked head-to-toe in ferrari merchandise, waving flags with the prancing horse and waving red and yellow flares around the desert area.

mateo and y/n had gone to get the cars, pulling out the two that were in the best condition. truth be told, tending to the stock cars had become a hobby of y/n's. she had always been a car enthusiast, going for joyrides around normandy with her father when she was younger, which had translated to her interest in classic cars during her adolescence.

of course, paul walker had helped with that one via the fast and the furious franchise.

the folded up race suit for charles sat on the unused passenger seat as she drove the car out of the impound yard, flying down the streets at a dangerous speed.

it didn't matter, nobody was there to stop her. or get hit. technically stock car radios were only supposed to relay communications from the pits, but in this specific stock car, y/n had wired the radio differently so that she could play music, thus enjoying her joyrides that much more. technically it was a safety hazard at the speeds she was driving, but who was she to give a shit?

fall out boy was playing on the radio, wind blowing in from the cage on the window as she yanked on the steering wheel, practically drifting onto the sand and gravel where mateo was already waiting by bacri's car, an unamused expression on his face when he heard the punk music leaking from the stereo.

"where have you been, y/n?" corporal deveraux shouted over the music. the corporal had served in the french navy for fifteen years before taking early retirement. he finally wanted both his feet to be permenantly on solid ground, but the conditioning and the routines never left, and there wasn't a single soul who didn't complain when he started the morning with bugle exercises. "we've been waiting for hours."

"sorry, dev!" she laughed, taking off her hot pink helmet and cutting the radio beforfe clambering out of the window. "you know i can't resist a good joyride."

charles was awestruck as he watched y/n get out of the car. here was a gorgeous girl he had a love hate relationship with, who spoke his language: racing. he could hardly stop himself from gawking when she tossed her head back, long hair barely held back by a bandana as it tumbled down her back. she was wearing a faded ferrari shirt and cutoff shorts, her signature stan smith adidas on her feet.

"stop staring, leclerc." bacri scoffed, zipping up his mustard-yellow race suit. "i want you out of here as fast as possible, don't go laying down roots with the best lawyer in this godforsaken place."

"i'm not staring." charles defended, averting his eyes to stare at giovanni, who was muttering to himself in italian as he messed with a signal flare. "i want to get out of here just as much as you want me gone."

"leclerc!" y/n shouted, capturing his attention quicker than a sniffer dog who found cocaine in a suitcase. he could hear judge bacri laughing at him in the background but couldn't bring himself to care. "careful with my car, yeah? built her from the ground up with romain's help. there's a boiler suit on the passenger seat, and a helmet. i had to guess on the size, I wasn't quite sure hoe big that head of yours was."

"i'm sure there's an insult in there somewhere."

"tell me what it is, then." y/n laughed, tossing him the keys. "the camry's all yours. don't fucking crash, hot shot."

charles caught the keys, but just barely, floundering for a second as he tried to figure out which one was the key to the toyota stock car. "wait, do you know how i'm supposed to get in the damn thing?"

"crawl through the window!" y/n shouted back, settling into a lawn chair next to emilie, who passed her a white claw seltzer. "this is going to be so entertaining."

once both racers were suited up in their boiler suits, and romain had helped charles figure out how to get into the hot pink car, emilie stood up and grabbed the two large chequered flags, standing in front of the revved-up stock cars.

"i want nice clean racing, boys. don;t kill each other, please. and don't crash into anything, my hubby is busy enough trying to fix that alfa romeo, which i have been told is a really fucking expensive car."

"damn right it is." charles murmured under his breath, shifting in the front seat as he shuffled his hands around the steering wheel to try and get used to the car.

speed. i am speed.

"on your marks!"

float like a cadillac, sting like a beemer.

"get set!"

one winner, one loser.

"go!"

in a cloud of dust and haze, charles was off, the car bouncing over the imperfections in the desert landscape.

and hilaire bacri was still at the starting line.

"uh, your honor?" giovanni asked hesitatnly, the ferrari-red face paint on his alabaster skin beginning to flake off. "emilie waved the flag. you are supposed to go."

emilie shook the flag again, as if to prove a point. hilaire still remained motionless, smirking to himself.

"keep your eyes on the kid, you'll see."

confused, y/n got out of her lawn chair and ran over to the dirt track, the corporal following closely behind as she searched for the pink camry in the cloud of dust. she saw charles spinning uncontrollably, and could only imagine that he was swearing in that deliciously sexy voice of his, sweaty and covered in sand and gravel-

nope. stop it.

"my car!" she whined

"the kid can't drive on dirt. f1 cars beach on gravel." bacri announced, climbing out of his own stock car. "so he stays and he fixes our square."

back inside the stock car, charles screamed. raw, unadulterated emotion as he punched the dashboard. once the emotions started flowing, he couldn't stop them. here he was, stuck in the middle of buttfuck nowhere with dust and sand in every crevice of his body because he lost control and he spun out.

charles leclerc never loses control of his car.

he never spins out.

but he did.

twice.

charles leclerc was losing himself. and it scared the shit out of him.

____________

"don't feel bad, stock cars are hard beasts to tame." mateo remarked.

“fuck you, mate.”

charles and mateo were in the impound lot, sitting on the hoods of two old stock cars, cars that hadn’t run in upwards of five years. the boys had beers in their hands, and they were shooting the shit as they watched the sun dip down past the radiator springs skyline.

“y/n can drive one.”

“she’s been practicing for almost six years now. there’s not much else to do around here. maybe she can teach you?” mateo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a punch to the shoulder from charles.

"i'll be out of here in a week, max." charles scoffed. "I don't want to lead her on and break her heart. it wouldn't be right."

mateo chuckled. "so now the hot shot has morals. but you never said you didn't think she was smoking hot."

"shut up".

"you know," mateo hummed, sliding off the hood of the car and walking back to the main garage. "if you really want to impress her, I can teach you how to drive one of these things."

there was an image that charles couldn't get out of his head. him and y/n racing stock cars across the sand, her loud laugh as she overtakes him, fall out boy blaring from the speakers like it had earlier that day. the way her body would look in a boiler suit.

"fuck it. teach me how to drive one of these suckers."

____________

it was dark when mateo pulled the venom green stock car to a halt behind a porsche carerra, in front of a quaint building with ivy growing up the side. the two had been at it for hours, and charles still couldn't get the hang of drifting on the gravel. mateo assured him that was a skill he would acquire with more practice, but charles wanted to master it before he left, before his future was decided once and for all.

"y/n and charles sitting in a tree-"

"shut the fuck up, mateo!"

"you're bloody staying in her motel!" mateo laughed, reaching over charles to undo the netting over the window so that the alfa romeo drive could get out of the car. "listen, just be gentle with her. none of us want to see her get hurt."

"thanks for this, mate. really." charles gushed. learning how to drive on the sand had been an experience like no other, something so fundamentally different from what he had been doing his entire life. "i know i talk a lot of shit about this town, but you're not too bad."

mateo beamed. "you're not too bad yourself, leclerc. come find me again tomorrow and we'll give drifting another shot, yeah? tell y/n i said hello."

charles clambered out of the car, opening the heavy wooden door, painted a pale mauve color. the main lobby of the inn was cozy, with a scented candle burning on the checkout counter. a crossley record player softly played a country tune in the background, and when he turned his head towards the ornate fireplace, he caught a glimspe of y/n.

her long hair was tied back, and she was wearing an oversized t-shirt with the artwork for an old whitney houston album on it, a pair of pale pink shorts disappearing under the hem. she was sitting on the suede couch, laptop on her thighs as she typed away at something on her screen.

"charles!" she said in surprise when she looked up to see the man standing there awkwardly. "i'm glad you came. i feel a little better already." she placed her laptop on the coffee table, padding acfross the marble floors barefoot.

it was all charles could do not to imagine y/n's thighs wrapped around his abdomen, his fingers in her hair, his lips on her neck.

but even more so, he couldn't deny the feeling in his chest when y/n said she was glad to see him.

he nodded at the record player. "alanis morrisette?"

she shook her head. "sheryl crow, 'if it makes you happy.' i made that mistake the first time too, but no, it's sheryl, not alanis."

"oh." charles said simply, suddenly aware of how close they were standing, holding his gaze level with hers.

he had never noticed before how soft the young lawyer's skin was, or how pretty her eyes were.

he was fucked, and didn't he know it.

she cleared her throat. "can i show you to your room?"

he had no idea how he was going to survive staying in a house with her for the rest of his stay.

[dragonmuse]

I love the what if fics so much do you think there is a time line where Peter Izzy and Lucius end up all together

(these just keep getting longer. Bulleted list time! Today's au of the au is 'feels just like I'm falling for the first time' )

-They lost a few men when Eddy took over the business. No one worth a damn, just cronies and hanger-ons, but it leaves them short a few hands.  Eddy hires one or two to fill the ranks then turns it over to Izzy. Just tells him not to use Hornigold’s tactics and they don’t have to say anything else for him to get the gist. 

-So Izzy does it the right way. He puts out a discreetly worded advertisement. He interviews people in his office (the office that had been Eddy’s and still bore the scars of her boredom on the desk, gouges with a blade that he runs his fingers over sometimes when he’s thinking). 

-Pete Black has a strange resume, no security work to speak of, no real skills except maybe a mechanical bent and an ability to show up on time to his interview which is surprisingly rare. 

“Why are you changing fields?” Izzy challenges Pete as he sits in the chair across the desk. The man wasn’t very large, just an average man with a shaved head and a shabby paisley jacket over a tired work shirt.  There are scars on his face and a tightness around his eyes, but when he spoke it was with energy, 

“Always dreamed of doing something more action based,” Pete tells him, a twitch of a smile on his lips that he kept repressing when Izzy caught his eye. “See the world.” 

And Izzy should throw him out, but he is on time and did actually have a resume even if it's horseshit. He puts Pete on scutwork for now, and if he stayd after getting the worst jobs then maybe he’d be worth keeping. 

-Except Pete doesn’t seem to know what a bad job is. He seems happy to drive around one of their worst clients, who was a screaming harpy that was never satisfied. Somehow, against all odds, Pete made friends with the harpy and she told Izzy that she was pleased they’d finally hired a ‘nice young man’ which was baffling on several levels including that Izzy was fairly sure he and Pete were the same age. 

-”Met the new guy,” Eddy remarks over lunch one day. They were eating in her office, going over blueprints.   

“Pete?” Izzy makes a note on the margins. 

“Yeah, how’s he doing?” 

Yesterday, Pete had stapled his shirt to a stack of papers, mixed up everyone’s coffee orders and forgotten every hand sign Blue Toby had impatiently taught him. But he’d also re-done the coffee orders with the shop and somehow convinced them not to charge them again, fixed the fucking copy machine that was the bane of Izzy’s existence, and this time took some video on his phone when Blue Toby re-showed him to study later. 

“Not awful,” is Izzy’s conclusion. 

“Huh,” Eddy eyes him.  “Take him to the next away job then. Get some miles on him.”

-There are a hundred and one other things to occupy Izzy’s attention, including other new employees. He doesn’t waste much time thinking of Pete. Even if the man did almost aggressively say hello to him every morning and hand him coffee (and Eddy’s, only Izzy brought Eddy their coffee. This was not actually one of Izzy’s little acts of devotion, but a very important step in the day to judge their mood and act accordingly)  with a side order of attempted small talk. He never seems to be scared off by Izzy’s rough dismissals, just gave a cheery ‘Ok, see you later!’ and went back to whatever he was meant to be doing. 

-It’s just Izzy’s luck that the next time he was wounded on the line, the only person close to hand was Pete. It’s just a cut on his leg, but it was bleeding hard while he needed to concentrate. 

“I got it!” Pete says hurriedly. “I remember the first aid course!” 

“Then get the fuck on it,” Izzy turns his attention to spraying more cover fire.  

He is dimly aware of Pete messing around, but he’s focused on Eddy. Watching them coiled in wait and then charging ahead through the hail of gunfire, and at the last possible moment, purposefully dropping and sliding across the slick hardwood floors to kick the legs out from under the main agitator. The guy went down hard and then there was a lot of blood.  

Izzy sucks in a tight breath. Watching Eddy work has never stopped doing it for him, even if he takes care to hide it. 

“Holy shit,” Pete mutters down around his thighs. Yeah, holy shit, indeed. 

“Go!” Izzy barks and the swarm of men they had laying in wait crawled out. He got to his feet and found that his leg supported him. Glancing down, he finds a halfway decent tourniquet and a bandage. Huh. 

It is only later, when he could finally be alone in a hotel room that he removes the bandage. It was clean underneath, except for an orange wash of iodine. The knot on the tourniquet was solid too. 

The next morning when Pete shows up with coffee, Izzy takes it and gives him a long stare. Pete meets it without flinching away or shifting as the others did. He, of all the strange things in the world, smiles at him. 

“You didn’t fuck up the bandage,” Izzy informs him. 

“Thanks! I wasn’t sure. You move a lot more than the test dummy.” 

It is a sign of his gratitude that Izzy held his tongue in favor of sipping his coffee and telling him to go do his fucking job. 

-After that, Pete is around more somehow. He’s just hovering at Izzy’s elbow during briefs, during jobs, and if they’re grounded between events, he’s somehow in Izzy’s office a dozen times a day. But...not annoyingly somehow. He just makes himself quietly useful. Buzzes around making copies, refilling Izzy’s bottle of water when it gets low, asking not entirely stupid questions about how to handle something better the next time, and if there’s literally nothing else helpful to be done, sometimes he just sits in the extra chair and seems to play app games. 

“The others are in the conference room,” Izzy says coldly the first time Pete plops himself down. 

“I know,” Pete doesn’t look up, his shoulders hunching a little. “It’s quieter here.” 

“Yes, I know,” Izzy says pointedly. It’s quieter by design. So he can be alone and concentrate. 

“And you know. You might need something.” 

Izzy didn’t know what to say to that. He might. It’s been known to happen. Usually he just stomps out and orders whoever is closest to do what needs doing. Pete doesn’t make much noise. He’s just waiting around.  

To be of use. Izzy glances up to Eddy’s closed door. 

....fine. 

-It does occur to him that Pete maybe has some issues with the other guys. Izzy keeps an eye out, in case it’s something that could trickle out at a job, but as far as he can tell, no one dislikes him. Fang and Ivan even seem fond of him. Pete eats lunch with them, looking like a period at the end of a burly sentence.  

But maybe it’s the way that the lunches often turn into wrestling matches or other roughness which Pete, for all the bluster he spills at the slightest provocation, is ill-equipped for. He doesn’t tend to come out drinking on the weekends much either. When he does, he’s merry enough and does hold his liquor well. It’s the man’s free time so he doesn’t ask, but Izzy wonders a little. 

-“Where’s your secretary?” Eddy asks one morning, leaning in through the door. 

“Who?” Izzy asks blankly. Eddy gestures at the chair that has, despite Izzy’s cool reception, become Pete’s. “He’s not my secretary.”

“Personal assistant, whatever,” Eddy waved that away. “I need someone to re-org my files.”

That is Izzy’s job. He’s kept Eddy’s files straight for years but he didn’t have the time right now, buried in their annual audit. He hesitates then nods, “I’ll send him in.”

Pete doesn’t seem as enthused as Izzy had imagined he’d be to go into Eddy’s office, but he go in. Izzy does not monitor that situation. Much.

Hours later Pete re-emerges and comes into Izzy’s office. He shuts the door behind him which he’s never done before.

“Is Blackbeard okay?”

Izzy frowns, “what do you mean?” 

“It’s just…” Pete chews the inside of his cheek for a second. “They seem kind of… sad? I was in there for ages and they barely moved. Just sort of stared into space.” 

Shit. “Probably just planning.” Izzy scrambles for cover. “You know how it is.”

“I-“ Pete sat down in the other chair. “I wouldn’t tell anyone, but you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Izzy sighs. 

“I wouldn’t,” Pete insists. “Loyalty is important.”

“Yes,” Izzy gets up. “I’ll…ask. The copier is jammed again.”

“On it!”

Izzy comes out of the conversation with Eddy nursing a cracked rib, but at least she seems out of her dark mood. And he gave as good as he got.

Pete gives him an ice pack and a worried look. Izzy accepts the former and closes his eyes to the latter.

-That night, Eddy drinks herself into a stumbling mess, which is predictable if annoying. Izzy props her up, intent on getting her home and away from anyone that might notice her plummeting mood. He makes it five steps and  the burden is suddenly lighter. Pete is under her other arm. They're walking distance to her apartment and while Izzy is loath to expose her like that, he’s also exhausted and his chest hurts. 

He doesn’t let Pete inside her apartment, but when she comes back out after getting her settled, Pete is still outside the door. 

“Go home,” Izzy orders, exhausted. 

“Let’s get you home first,” Pete says instead. 

“Fuck off.” 

“You’re not breathing right. Please.”

Izzy wants to push him aside. Growl. Punch him. But his rib is killing him and there’s other bruising aside from that. His home was well-protected. Pete wasn’t exactly the most threatening man Izzy had ever met. He could put him down in a second. 

He doesn’t say a word, in the end. Just starts walking and Pete walks beside him. When Izzy starts to wheeze, Pete ducks under his arm and Izzy doesn’t fight him off. He doesn’t want it, but he wants to stop hurting. If only for a minute. 

By the time they get to his apartment, Izzy has given Pete more than half his weight and he can’t bring himself to pull back. He has to slid his arm away to open the apartment door. 

“I’ve got it from here,” he says hoarsely. 

“All right,” Pete takes a step away from the door. “Good night.” 

“Night,” Izzy shuts the door in the man’s face. Then he leans against the door, listening until he's sure Pete is well away. 

Then he slides to the floor and lets his head bang back against the door. 

-Pete doesn’t say a word about Eddy’s moods. Izzy was prepared to fire him, if need be, but it doesn’t come up. Pete still brags and postures, eats lunch with the others, but mostly lingers in Izzy’s office. Now more sure that he won’t be kicked out, he’s there nearly all the time and Izzy isn’t sure when it became normal, but now it is. Pete has a chair and a corner of the desk sometimes and one day, Izzy is doing payroll and looks at Pete’s name. He’s unarguably more useful than half the lot. Eddy doesn’t like to weigh in on H.R. bullshit and has already called Pete his P.A. anyway. 

With a little hesitation, Izzy clicks a few times. Changes a number.  He knows Pete knows when he gets his next paycheck. 

“Did I get a raise?” He asks bemused. 

“Job title change,” Izzy shrugs. “Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“Do I get to know what I’m doing?” Pete blinks. 

“Same as you have been. You aren’t a line guy.” 

“I’m not?” 

“No. You’re a P.A.” 

You're mine, was unspoken. Because no one here was Izzy’s, not really. They were Blackbeard’s men, Pete included. 

-”We’ll need someone to go in disguised,” Eddy looks at the group some months later. “Someone that Santiago won’t recognize.” 

Santiago had been one of theirs, under Hornigold. He’d split off and now he was trying to take down one of their best clients. It was a serious job and no one was kidding around or making a noise that Izzy could use to work out some of his jittery anger on.  

“Most of us worked pretty closely with him,” Blue Toby says. “He was around a long time.” 

“I could do it,” Pete says. 

“Sure,” Eddy snorts. “Like you’re not recognizable.” 

Pete wilts a little, but doesn’t give up. “No, I mean I’m good. With a certain kind of disguise. I can do it.” 

“What’s that mean?” Eddy presses and Izzy wants to know too.  

Pete squirms under their collective attention, “I can do makeup and things. From when I was with the carnival. Make myself look pretty different.” 

“How different?” Eddy’s eyes narrow. “Cause we don’t need a clown show.” 

Pete pulls out his phone, walks around the table and shows Eddy something. Her eyebrows fly up, she leans in and really looks. With THAT look. The one that means she’s found something Interesting. Izzy really needs to see that picture. 

“Just a hobby,” Pete mutters. 

“Useful hobby right now,” Eddy decides. “Fine. Pete goes in to get the information. Izzy, he’ll need training for that. The rest of you are with me.” 

It isn’t until they’re back in Izzy’s office that he whirls on Pete. “Show me.” 

“...fine,” Pete gives him the phone. 

If it weren’t for the scars faintly visible through the makeup, Izzy wouldn’t have been sure it even was Pete. The hair helped tremendously, a light brown fall of of loos curls that softened his face and the makeup made him convincingly feminine. The dress was garish, too loud for what they needed, but it would work. 

“A hobby?” Izzy asks dryly, trying to parse that. 

“I do drag,” Pete exhales. “And yeah, I’m gay. So if that���s a problem, I’ll walk.” 

Izzy stares at him. No one has ever come out to him before. Certainly not in such a forthright way.  What was he supposed to do with that? 

“We need you for the job,” Izzy says. “And I can’t fire you for being gay. It’s illegal.” 

“Doesn’t stop people,” Pete’s eyes meet his. Electric blue suddenly in the flickering fluorescent lights.  “Not like we don’t know from law breaking.” 

“Not when it comes to H.R.," Izzy clears his throat. “First rule of fishing for information is you can’t ask for it outright.” 

“How do you get it then?” 

And they’re off the races. 

-Eddy is fascinated with Pete’s drag kit, poking around and probably getting sticky-fingered if Izzy knew her at all. What they plan on doing with lipstick and blush, Izzy can’t even begin to guess. They make Pete talk through the whole makeup process, listening with that casually intense way that means they're memorizing the whole thing. 

-Pete goes in with a name and a backstory that’s too elaborate, but Izzy couldn’t talk him down from. Instead of the garish dress, he’s in a dark blue pants suit. He looks like someone’s mom going to a work event, but at least it's realistic. Santiago is fooled at least. Pete isn’t much of an actor and Izzy winces his way through most of the awkward flirtation, but it works and Pete makes it out just in time, the bomb Eddy plants going off. 

“You should take him out to celebrate,” Eddy cackles. “Buy him a few rounds.” 

And Eddy is just being fucking Eddy, but Izzy is used to a much lower quality of outcome from some of their staff. 

He takes Pete out for drinks. He’s got questions anyway. 

“How’d you even start with all that shit?” 

They’re a few shots in and both just getting warm with it.  The bar is loud, rowdy, but not one currently occupied with their colleagues.  

“My drag mother...that’s a person that teaches you the ropes basically....she clocked me when I was still closeted. She was the best,” Pete smiles at the memory. “Taught me a lot about a lot.” 

“Do you want to be a woman?” 

“No,” Pete says, apparently unoffended. “It’s just fun to be someone else for a while. I like the makeup and clothes and things. I like performing.” 

“....performing?” Izzy’s voice might crack a little at that. 

“Sure. Can’t do it much now what with the full time gig and all, but sometimes I do amateur nights and things. I mostly juggle while I lip sync. It’s fun.” 

“And that’s...is this a gay thing?” 

“I mean most of the guys that do drag are, but like most gay guys do not do drag?” Pete frowned. “Yeah, like a Venn diagram thing like you showed me.” 

Izzy, who had had to explain what one a Venn diagram was twice just a week or so ago, was reluctantly pleased that Pete had picked up on that enough to use it properly as a metaphor. 

They may have gotten drunker than Izzy intended. They may have wound up walking the streets with a full bottle of whiskey that Izzy had casually lifted from behind the bar when the bartender’s back was turned. 

They may have wound drinking in an alley like Izzy used to as a teenager. No one was around to say but them, 

“The thing is,” Pete takes a long swallow and passed the bottle back to Izzy. “I kind of thought you knew.” 

“Knew what?” 

“That I was gay.” 

“How the fuck would I know that?” Izzy growls and clings to the wall a little as the world shifts unpredictably under his feet. He takes a long pull on the bottle. 

“Cause. You know. You and....” Pete starts then trailed off. “Or is that a secret?” 

“Me and what,” Izzy’s head was suddenly very clear. 

“Oh that’s worse,” Pete groans. “That’s so much worse.” 

“Worse than what?” He demands.

“I thought maybe you guys were just weird about it. Some macho bullshit that includes roughing each other up, but it’s not that is it?” 

“What are you talking about!” Izzy threw up a hand. 

“You and Blackbeard!” Pete shouted then shrunk back, voice dropping to a whisper. “Uh, you’re just really intense about each other? Like all the time. And I thought...” 

Oh. Izzy wonders if he could just kill Pete here. That would solve some things. But then who would fix the copier? And get the coffee? And ask Izzy if he needed anything ten times a day? 

“No,” Izzy says heavily. “Not, it’s not...not that.” 

“Was it ever?” 

Izzy closes his eyes and can't find the words to respond. Something brushed his hand. So lightly that he thought it might be a bug, but then it resolved into a hand, just a press of fingers. 

“Yeah,” Pete said roughly. “Been there.” 

-It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

-”Hey, I’m totally soused, but we’re not far from my place,” Pete offers. “You can have the bed.” 

Izzy would love to go home, but he’s not entirely sure where they are actually and doesn’t trust himself to even give his address straight to a cab driver. He just nods and follows and at some point there’s a bed. 

-In the morning, Izzy wakes with a violent start. The bed beneath him is unfamiliar, piled too high with blankets and pillows. Someone on the floor is snoring. He rolls over slowly, carefully, ready to stab them, but it’s just Pete on a further pile of pillows. Right.  He climbs over the man carefully and makes his way into the main room of the apartment. There’s two other doors. The man must have roommates. Fabulous. Izzy makes use of the bathroom which is at least clean, thank fuck, if overcrowded. 

-He makes to leave, but Pete stumbles out of the bedroom. “You want coffee?” 

“Yes,” he decides. 

The coffee is fine. Not his own brew, but his own brew is somewhere, an unknown distance away. There are voices after a while. Two men stumble out of one bedroom, one absolutely enormous and the other a more normal kind of tall and pretty. They’re already laughing despite the early hour, over whatever joke. They stop dead when they see Izzy. 

“Didn’t know you went out last night,” the thin one ventured. 

“I didn’t,” Pete shrugged. “Izzy, this is Frenchie and John. Guys, this is my boss.” 

“Hi,” John said slowly. “Is this a business breakfast?” 

“Yes,” Izzy intoned and Pete nodded briskly. 

Frenchie and John were either very dim or very polite, and seemed to accept that even though Izzy had to look like roadkill.  They made breakfast around him, kept trying to offer things. Izzy drained his mug. 

“I’m going,” he decided and went to go find his boots. They were in Pete’s room, ditched by the door and he sat on the edge of the bed. He had to put them on, but fuck he was tired and he just closed his eyes for a second. 

“They’re not in the business,” Pete said from the door. 

“Believe it or not, I figured that out,”Izzy drawled, opening his eyes reluctantly. 

“I mean they wouldn’t say anything.” 

“Fine, there’s nothing to say.” 

Pete closes the door, and moves to the side so he isn’t blocking it. Something Izzy often did for Eddy by force of habit. Something Eddy did for him too, come to think of it.  Had Pete picked it up from them? Or was he just like that?” 

“There could be,” Pete says gently. So softly. Too soft. Too soft for the business they were in. Too soft to be anywhere near Izzy’s spines and prickles.  

“No,” Izzy bends to pick up his boot, “I’m not....I don’t.” 

“I think maybe...” Pete sighs. “I can’t tell you what you are, but I think you’re hot as fuck, actually.  And I’m quitting, so. It wouldn’t be weird.” 

“You’re leaving?” Izzy asks thickly. 

“I almost fucked the job yesterday,” Pete points out. “I thought I’d like all the action, but my favorite parts are really fixing the stupid copier and hanging out with you. I can fix a copier at a lot of places where I won’t die and maybe...maybe we could still hang out. Sometimes.” 

“You like spending time with me?” he asks incredulously.  

“Yeah. You’re kind of funny? In a mean way. And hot. Did I mention that?” 

“You did,” Izzy says. “I don’t- I haven’t-” 

“Why not?” 

Eddy’s favorite fucking question. Why not, Iz? Why can’t we do the impossible? Why can’t we punch the moon? And Izzy always has to be the one with the logistics, the explanation, the reasons. He always has to say no.  No to every insane plan that turns out to work. No to every wild chance. 

Izzy fucking loves wild chances. He didn’t agree to work for Hornigold because he likes safety. He just didn’t want to die from lack of planning. 

Pete stands there, too soft. Soft blue eyes, soft exposed head and soft bedtime clothes. He’s not Eddy, who is hard all over, including inside these days. He’s not like Izzy. This isn’t his world and the things Izzy wants, there’s no way Pete can provide. 

But fuck, he’s so tired of saying no. 

“I don’t know,” he drops his boot. Pete crosses the room, stands above him and there’s no looming there. Just the shadow crossing Izzy’s lap.  

“I think you don’t need to hurt so much,” Pete offers and then leans down. Izzy doesn’t push him away. 

-The sex isn’t anything like what Izzy’s done before. Pete laughs sometimes, not at him, but apparently just from enjoyment. He’s firm, but not rough and doesn’t give Izzy much to work with direction-wise. It’s unmooring and strange. The kissing is...it awakens old memories. Not of Eddy, who once kissed like they were trying to chew through his soul. Faith had kissed like this. Slow and inquisitive and sweet. 

The sweetness makes Izzy’s skin itch, but he can’t pull away from it either. 

-Pete tenders his resignation the next day with a wink and his number written across the bottom. Like Izzy didn’t already have it. 

He doesn’t call. 

For all of a week. 

Then Eddy takes him along on a job and they both almost die and things are like the old times. Except Eddy leaves him standing at the door of the bar after with a wink and a finger gun before disappearing into the dark night. Leaves Izzy alone. Which is fine. He can be alone with the adrenaline and the churning in his gut. 

He pulls his phone out, not letting himself think about it. 

“I’m performing at this new place tonight, actually. We all are,” Pete says merrily. “Come over and see.” 

It’s nothing like an order, but Izzy’s been ordered around all day. A request was fine. And it was maybe also a bit of a dare. Would Izzy show up at a gay club? Sit through a drag performance? This is Pete’s territory at last, a line in the sand that Izzy is being gently taunted to cross.

“Yeah, all right.” 

-The performance is baffling and he didn’t think he was alone in feeling that way. Several people in the audience also look like they were slapped with a fish. Which is one of the acts. The bar is aggressively decorated, crystal and colors. Flags everywhere. It is very much not his kind of place. There seems to be an issue with the bartender, a nervy thin lady who disappears halfway through the night and doesn’t come back. The barback starts making drinks which are disgusting so Izzy has to deal with the whole thing sober which he could do without.  

-Pete is pretty good though. Him and the roommate juggle and it’s not terrible. The knife throwing is fucking excellent and Izzy makes a mental note in case they need a new close combat specialist. Alfie has been playing dangerous lately. 

-”You came!” Pete beams at him when he finds him after the show. 

“What did I just watch?” he asks flatly. 

“Fun, right?” Pete laughs. 

“Fun adjacent,” he settles on, which only makes Pete laugh harder. 

Izzy doesn’t make people laugh. That’s not a thing that he does.  He does go home with Pete again, this time with more presence of mind. The sex is pretty good all over again. And after.... 

After Pete puts a hand on his arm. 

“Hey, stay the night, huh? Go again in the morning? Get some breakfast?” 

Stay. Izzy doesn’t get asked to stay. Izzy, if anything, is told in clear terms to leave. And when he isn’t, he goes anyway, unsure of his welcome. But that’s a clear invitation. And it’s late. No work tomorrow. 

“Can’t do breakfast,” he yawns, “but yeah, fine.” 

“Oh right, death by nuts, eggs and stone fruit,” Pete recalls from Fang’s unwanted, but necessary training on ‘how not to kill your second-in-command by getting lunch'.  “What if I make something?” 

“...fine,” Izzy concedes.  

And it is fine, actually. He doesn’t sleep great, but they do have sex again in the morning and Izzy’s never gone twice in the span of twenty-four hours, so he’s feeling remarkably mellow. Pete isn’t much of a cook, but anyone can make toast. 

-It becomes a thing. Not every week, not even most weeks, but at least once a month or so. Sometimes Izzy would go see the show, but usually he just met up with Pete after. There's sex and breakfast.  He gets used to Frenchie and John’s shenanigans even, though mostly he tunes them out and leaves when they get loud. 

-And then one otherwise unremarkable night, Izzy’s sitting at the bar wondering if it’s worth asking this week’s alcohol dealing flake for a vodka tonic when Eddy sits down beside him. 

“So this is where you’ve been disappearing too.” 

Every hair on Izzy’s body stands up straight. “Yeah.” 

“I thought maybe you were in on something interesting,” Eddy tsks, “Maybe planning some good old fashioned betrayal.” 

“I wouldn't-” he starts to protest. 

“But then I remembered who I was talking about,” Eddy laughs darkly. “So I thought maybe you’d finally picked up an interesting vice or something. But Izzy in a gay bar I did not expect.” 

“Well. Here I am,” he says miserably, wondering if he could get Eddy out of here before the show started. 

“Hi! Good evening!” Leda House comes on the mic with outstandingly terrible timing. She made for an attractive enough woman, but the man underneath  the makeup was a total fucking weirdo. Izzy had had one conversation with Stede Bonnet which had been more than enough. “Welcome! Hello! It’s the Friday Night Spectacular!  I’m your host Leda House and tonight you’ll see things! Stuff! Amazing feats! Please get your drinks and get your tipping hands ready, for the beautiful and mysterious Frenchie!” 

“Iz,” Eddy said with a giddiness that made Izzy want to reach for his gun on pure reflex. “Is this a drag show?” 

“Yes.”  What was the point in denying it?  

Eddy at least watches quietly enough. Actually, they seemed enthralled.  

“The host, do you know them?” Eddy asks. 

“Yeah, she owns the bar,” Izzy mumbles into his drink which was mostly water.  Another shit bartender, another night at the Revenge.

“Introduce me.” Eddy demands. Shit. 

-Eddy took to Leda House immediately. It was....well. Izzy had seen Eddy getting someone they wanted before. He couldn’t help but compare it to how Eddy had gotten him. There was no charisma then, no sweet words. Not like now as Eddy smiles that thousand watt smile and Leda melts under its force. 

“You know if I tell her that Eddy’s off limits, she’ll listen,” Pete drifts up to his side, out of drag now. 

“I have no say in who Eddy takes home,” Izzy says. And Eddy is busy, full attention outward.  

“The apartment is a disaster,” Pete says regretfully. “They’re working on the plumbing.” 

And suddenly Izzy wants to be anywhere but here and he doesn’t want to be there alone. “Come over.” 

“Yeah?” Pete smiles brightly at him. “You sure?” 

Leda giggles and Eddy puts a hand on her knee. 

“Yes.” 

-It’s not so bad to make Pete breakfast for once. He eats it happily and looks around the apartment without being invasive and just says, “Nice place. When did you move in?” 

“Ten years ago.” 

“Huh,” Pete nods once slowly. “Yeah. Must be nice. To not have too much stuff. Our place is packed full, kind of a lot.” 

Izzy does not say that he likes Pete’s apartment. Or his bed with too many pillows. It’s too close to something else. 

He dreads seeing Eddy again, but she doesn’t come in for a few days. That happens sometimes and he doesn’t get nervous until it’s going on day four. Just when he’s about to go to their apartment, they swans in, dressed in bright colors and dragging the sunshine in after her.  

“Great find, Iz!” She claps him on the shoulder and practically dances into her office, slamming the door shut behind her. 

-It’s the beginning of the end though Izzy won’t know that for another few months. 

-Eddy, clearly happier overall, does not bring that mood to jobs. Instead she comes in happy and goes out to work irritable and mean. Izzy takes the jabs as his due and parries them back, but his usual attempts to rile her into fighting shape have little effect. Her door closes in his face more and more often. 

-”You could quit,” Pete suggests one night. They’re just laying in the dark, at Izzy’s place again. They switch off now. And not just on Friday nights. Seems like he's with Pete more often than he's not somehow.

“And do what?” He asks with a snort. 

“Whatever you want,” Pete shrugs. “You want things, don’t you?” 

Izzy does. He wants things to be what they were. He wants to still be young and feel like he understood everything. 

He wants to be in control again, but these days he’s not sure he ever was. 

-Eddy shows up on stage one night. Izzy watches her with a detached shallow ache. She’s beautiful and happy. She looks like she’s sliding in battle, but no one is going to shoot at her. She’s safe here, in this madhouse. Safe and herself. Maybe he’d never known her at all.  He listens to them declare their love for Leda House, to speak that truth out over a microphone to any ready ear. 

“What do you think?” She challenges when she sees him in the crowd. She asks him from the stage, towering above him. No one else knows who she’s addressing. There’s a wild cheer as though she’s talking to them all. 

Izzy holds up his hand and flexes a few fingers together. One of their signs. A private signal if they had to go behind the backs of their own people.  It’s got a lot of meanings, but he knows she’ll understand this one.  ‘Job Done, All Clear’  

She nods once. Signals the same back to him. 

“You good?” Pete checks in, frowning as he finds him downing another shot. 

“No,” Izzy laughs, wildly, spiraling out. “It’s fucking over. Fucking Stede fucking Bonnet.” 

“Ooookay, let’s get you home then.” 

-It takes an upsettingly short amount of time to close up shop. Eddy comes back to sign things, to pack up. She removes herself one step at a time like it’s just another dance, another fight that she can win without looking. 

“You could take over,” she floats to him the first day they actually talk about it, meaning it's actually the last day with just the things left to sign sitting between them.

“No,” he drives the point of his knife into the desk, into one of the gouges she’d left behind. “I don’t want it.” 

“Fuck, okay, Iz, chill.” 

Chill. Right. 

-Izzy doesn’t take over. He doesn’t go to Jackie with the handful that can’t give up the work. He considers it, but it’s a weird liminal space. Eddy is no longer his boss, but she’s also not gone. The job has dissolved, but he didn’t quit or really get fired. He’s just....not. Not Eddy’s second hand. Not Eddy’s shadow. Not anything really, except somehow....still someone Pete’s look for after a show. Someone Pete takes home and kisses like he's worth something.

Still someone to someone. Whatever that means. And he does want things as it turns out. 

“A P.I.?” Pete wraps a hand around his shoulders, kisses him on the cheek with a loud smacking sound that makes Izzy roll his eyes. “So cool!” 

“Just something to do,” he grumbles, but Pete isn’t letting go. There at the bar and anyone could see, but...who cares? His reputation means less and less every day anyway.

They’ve been having sex together for a year at this point, known each other for three or four. Izzy’s sitting in a gay bar, under a fucking chandelier and his life has disintegrated out from under him, except for Pete. Who is steady and warm against him, more solid and dependable than Eddy ever was outside of the job. Pete knows what he is, has watched him kill someone at least once and read most of the paperwork in his old office. There’s no hiding from him, really. 

“Are we....” Izzy half-forms the question, then can’t quite see it through. 

“I think,” Pete gets in a little closer and when Izzy doesn’t shove him away, he rests his chin on shoulder ,”that we can be whatever we want to be. So. Do you want to be?” 

Izzy wants things. Stability. Order. A job. Someone in his life so his brain can’t devour itself.  

“Yeah,” he says and hopes Pete can hear him over the music so he doesn’t have to repeat himself.  

“Okay. Then we are.” 

The word ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t appear on their lips for another few weeks. Izzy says it first which seems to free Pete up to say it all the fucking time with this lilt of pride that make it impossible for Izzy to shy away from.

-Stede hires a new bartender. What else is new? Except that Pete likes this one, Izzy misses Pete’s save at the interview because he doesn’t hang out at the bar in the middle of the fucking day like some people, but he hears all about it later. 

“He’s kind of...”Pete trails off then grins. “You’ll like him.” 

“I don’t like people,” Izzy informs him and Pete just laughs. This far in and Izzy is still not sure if Pete genuinely thinks he’s joking or just finds Izzy’s natural crabbiness hilarious. 

-Izzy likes Lucius immediately. He shouldn’t. The man is obnoxious, full of jibes and his humor is so dry that it grates like sandpaper. He flirts incessantly with varying degrees of seriousness and upon meeting Izzy, he compliments Pete for ‘landing a DILF’ which Izzy googles and then wishes he hadn’t.  

-”He likes you,” Pete points out as they get into Izzy’s car one night. 

“He flirts with everyone,” Izzy rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, but it’s different with you.” 

“Nah, it’s different with you,” Izzy can hear the warmth of Lucius’ interest when he leans over the bar to talk to Pete. They’re friendly, Pete is friendly with everyone, but it’s not the way Lucius talks to Frenchie or Roach or any of the others. 

Pete reaches for his seat belt, slides it slowly across his chest. He gets like that, moving in slow motion when he’s grappling with something. Izzy leaves him to it, listening for the click before hitting the gas.  

“Okay. Like...I don’t usually go for this, but Lucius is very....open.” 

“That’s one word for it,” Izzy agrees. He was pretty sure Lucius would open up his skull and let someone climb inside if he could get off on it. 

“So. You know. If we told him we're a package deal. I think he’d go for that.” 

Izzy almost crashes the car. It was a good thing Pete was wearing his seatbelt as he slammed the brakes. They both hung in the silence for a second. 

“Or....not,” Pete grimaces.  

He doesn’t really casually touch Pete much.  He lets Pete manhandle him as much as he likes, but Izzy rarely offers him the same. It’s...fucking dumb actually. He reaches over and takes Pete’s hand like he’s seen Eddy and Stede do a million times. Pete holds back, eyes wide. Behind them someone blares their horn, so Izzy gets them moving again. When he’s finally safely parked in his garage, he turns to Pete in the gloomy dark and asks hesitantly, 

“Are you serious about that?” 

“Yeah, Iz. It’s not my usual thing, I’m a one dick a time sort of guy and I know you are too, but....” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out. Lucius is something else altogether.  He’d make it easy because he makes everything like that easy. Izzy’s known him for about two weeks and can already tell that. Maybe because it reminds him of Pete a little, actually. 

“Could be fun,” Pete offers. “And if not...then we don’t do it again.” 

Like it was that simple. 

-”Oh wow, yeah absolutely,” Lucius grinned at them. Apparently some parts were that simple. “I’m flattered fellas. Threesomes are a forte of mine.” 

“Really?” Pete looks dazzled. Izzy knew his own expression was carefully schooled blankness, but fucking hell, Lucius did have a 200 watt smile.  

“Oh yeah. Take a little coordination, some planning, some improv. We’ll have a great time.” 

-It has to be at Izzy’s place because Pete’s roommates will tell the entire fucking world otherwise. Lucius steps inside the apartment and his eyebrows fly into his hairline, but he doesn’t say a word about it, apparently intent on getting on with things. 

-About mid-way through, Lucius puts his hand on Izzy’s shoulder and playfully, but firmly says, “Suck me off.” And Izzy short circuits, banging down to his knees so hard and fast he feels it in his molars. So. That happens. 

They have to talk about it after which is a special kind of hell. 

“Don’t be shy about it,” Lucius waves away Izzy’s monosyllabic responses. “This way we all get what we want.” 

“I didn’t even know you wanted that,” Pete says, clearly hurt. 

“Neither did I,” Izzy admits, eyes on the floor. “Sorry.” 

“I wasn’t sure you knew that word,” Pete reaches out, rubs his back. “We’ll figure it out.” 

-The important takeaway is that Lucius makes it clear he’d go again in a second. And he winds up staying, crowding the bed, but also dispelling the air of caution that tends to linger between Izzy and Pete all the time. They always hover around each other like something might shatter. Lucius is happy to break everything and glue it back together again. 

-Of course they tell him he can come back whenever. He takes them up on that. These days, Izzy and Pete don't hold Friday nights as sacred, since they're together almost every night, so it’s not a big deal that Lucius often counts out his tips, sticks them in his pocket and follows them home. And in bed, he’s sweet and soft with Pete, and sweet and hard with Izzy and it’s deliciously good. Izzy gets to make sure Pete is happy and he’s satisfied on a level he didn’t know he was missing. 

Out of bed, Lucius likes to linger in the mornings. He makes fun of Izzy’s apartment, and starts leaving things around the place. His daring apparently spurs on Pete and suddenly there’s just...things. Everywhere. Books, a newspaper, doodles on napkins, clothes of all varieties and someone’s Revenge mug shoved in among the cabinets. 

Izzy leaves every single thing where it lies. Like if he touches them, they’ll disappear. 

-”What if we bought a bigger bed?” Pete asks, half-asleep himself, one hand on Izzy’s right shoulder, kneading a little at a tense spot. 

“Why?” Izzy is half melted with the massage and the word comes out a little slurred.

“Be more comfortable. Don’t have room at my place, but here we could.” 

They could. It would be saying something though. 

“Is that a thing?” he mumbles.  

“Bigger beds?” 

“No...just. All of it, I guess.” 

“Yeah, it can be a thing,” Pete said softly. “Do you want it to be?” 

“I liked what we were,” he says. “Before.” 

“Me too,” Pete assures him. “But...” 

“Yeah.” 

They buy a bigger bed. They don’t tell Lucius first because he’s a fucking know-it-all and it’s nice to surprise him sometimes. Izzy figures, worst case, he just has a bigger bed now. Sometimes Pete rolls up on top of him and they both almost die of heat exhaustion, so it’s a win-win anyway. 

So they just bring Lucius home one Friday night and make it to the bedroom and watch his face go slack in disbelief. 

“What did you do?” He asks, a little brokenly. 

“So we all fit,” Pete explains which thank fuck for him really because Izzy would’ve said something cutting about Lucius’ powers of observation which would’ve ruined it.  

“But-” Lucius starts then stops. 

“It’s okay,” Pete reaches for his arm, holding him like he’s tethering him to the earth.  It’s a good move, works great on Izzy all the time. “It’s not a demand or anything. Just an invitation. So you’re comfortable. Okay?” 

“Yeah,” Lucius says, the word broken in half. “But I thought I was just visiting.” 

“No,” Izzy realizes he has to say something or Lucius will read rejection there. “We want you to stay. As often as you want to be here.” 

“You’ll never get rid of me,” half a threat, half a promise. 

-They don’t get rid of him. If anything, it works out beautifully when Lucius’ roommate sets their place on fire. Izzy and Pete show up with Frenchie and John, move him out in a matter of minutes. They install him at Izzy’s place ‘temporarily’. It’s strange to share his home all the time, and he feels like he’s tripping on something every five minutes which only gets worse as Pete half-moves in too to be closer to both of them. 

When Izzy can’t take it anymore he just declares, 

“I’m moving and you two assholes are coming with me, so find a place with three bedrooms that doesn’t fucking suck.” 

“Wow.” Lucius says flatly. “I can’t wait with an invitation like that.” 

“I like apartment hunting,” Pete says serenely. “Can we get a balcony?” 

They get a balcony. Izzy gets a room where he can shut the door and have absolutely nothing on the floor. Sometimes he goes in there and just cuts notches on the underside of the desk like he’s a wild animal locked up for too long, but that’s just sometimes. Most of the time, he’s on the couch in the living room. His old one had a mysterious moving day accident and has been replaced with the deepest, softest most comfortable couch in the world. It’s horrifying how often he accidentally falls asleep on the damn thing. 

-Eddy shows up to the housewarming party. She brings prepackaged vegan cookies and shoves them at Izzy like she wants a sticker for it. 

“These have nuts in them,” he points out. 

“Motherfucker,” she sighs. 

“You want a beer?” 

“Please.” 

They wind up on Pete’s balcony while the rest of the party rages inside. The place will be a disaster later and when he tries to clean it, Lucius will order him to bed and Pete will already be in it, naked as a jay and laughing at the two of them, arms spread wide in welcome. 

For now, Izzy’s just grateful no one’s broken glass yet. 

“Life works out weird, huh?” Eddy toasts him, then uncapped the beer with her teeth in a move that had never failed to make him wince.

“It does,” he agrees. “You good?” 

“Never better,” she stretches her legs out, rests her feet on the railing. She’s beautiful in the fading sunlight, but in an objective way. Izzy has no more room for her inside, he realizes. They’ve shoved her out somehow, made room for themselves and no one else. “You?” 

“Yeah,” Izzy uses the bottle opener on the swiss army knife Pete had bought him for his birthday. It was plain, utilitarian.  Not unlike the ring Pete thought he didn’t know about that had been sitting in a box in Pete’s coat pocket for the better part of two months. Izzy hadn’t said a word, too afraid that it wasn’t for him until Pete had started giving him long thoughtful looks when they were out for a walk. Gearing himself up. Izzy would be ready with a yes, when the moment came. They'd have to get one for Lucius too, down the line. Izzy's got a design in mind already.   “It’s all pretty fucking good.” 

[sarahsmi13s]

Jake Meet Kyle -- HC

(found this on pinterest)

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem!oc

characters: jake seresin, fem!oc, paisley seresin, tyler (mentioned), kyle 🤢

warnings: language, toxic behavior (kyle’s department), protective!jake, jake gets a little rough (but it’s well deserved), mentions of bodyshaming, i’m sorry if i missed any

word count: ~1.1k

a/n: this is based on a conversation I had with @roosterscockpit ( @milesdickpic​ )about   how kyle is LITERAL gargbage 🗑️🗑️ and we needed an interaction between jake and kyle. i hope this does it justice babes 

******

Jake wakes up first - it’s wired into him to be up early

He doesn’t immediately get out of bed though, loving the feeling of Sarah in his arms. He listens to the rain and her small snores.

Sarah’s first and second alarms had already gone off, and she finally gets up by the third one.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” he teases, chuckling when she buries her head in his chest, groaning a little. “I need coffee.” Jake hummed and kissed her forehead. “Where’s your phone?” 

She rolled on top of him to grab it, typing in her passcode and opening the Door Dash app. Jake took it from her and she wrapped around his front like a koala, basking in his warmth.

Jake typed in his order and hers, then pulled his card from his wallet and typed in the information.

“Did you get one for Paisley?” Sarah mumbled into his chest. “No, she went on a breakfast date with Tyler at like 7:30.” She hummed an ‘okay’ and Jake felt her fall back asleep.

It doesn’t take long for the Door Dasher to get there with Jake’s black coffee and Sarah’s iced coffee with southern pecan creamer and a blend of two syrups.

“I don’t understand why you wanted iced coffee, it’s pissin’ and pourin’ outside. And it’s February.” “And?” She sipped it happily before kissing his cheek, “Thank you for getting coffee, Baby. I appreciate it.” He smiled down at her, “Of course, Sweetheart.” She pecked his jaw and moved to the couch to start the video game she had pulled up.

As Jake stirred some sugar into his coffee, a knock pulled his attention away. 

He glanced at Sarah, seeing that she was zoned into whatever was happening on the screen.

He went over to the door and opened it.

Jake nearly fell to the floor laughing at the sight in front of him. The guy at the door looked like a wet chihuahua, shivering slightly from being soaked to the bone from the rain while only being in a pair of track shorts and a hoodie. And the guy was built like a string bean, obviously a pole vaulter or short distance runner.

“You must be Kyle,” Jake concluded.

 Kyle looked him up and down, eyes widening a little at Jake’s muscles that were on full display thanks to the Navy tank he was wearing. “Uh, yeah, yeah that’s me. Is, uh, is Sarah here? I kinda need to talk to her.”

Jake hummed, nodding while taking a sip of his coffee. He swallowed, “Why?” 

Kyle pushed his wet hair off his forehead, “Look, we went on a date and it ended kind of rough. I wanted to apologize and maybe get a second chance.” Jake’s brows raised in amusement and he was about to tell him to just fuck off…

But Sarah came to the door, “Kyle? What do you want?”

Kyle sighed in relief, “Hey, Sarah, can I talk to you? In private?” He eyed Jake when he said that last part. “Why in private?” “I really don’t want your roommate listening to this, it’s not his business.” 

Sarah and Jake shared a look, silently communicating on how to play this out.

“No, whatever you need to say, you can say in front of him. I’m probably gonna tell him anyway.”

Kyle groaned, “Okay, fine.” He looked at her, “I’d like another chance at that date.”

Jake’s hand clenched around the door handle and sat his coffee down so he didn’t spill coffee everywhere.

Sarah sighed, a smile forming on her lips, “No. Goodbye.” She tried to shut the door, but Kyle stopped her by stepping in the doorway.

Jake’s body jerked forward but was stopped by Sarah’s hand on his chest, “We both know you could take him.”

He clenched his jaw, but backed down.

“Come on, Sarah. I think I deserve it after the way you just left last night.”

Oh, he really wants to get punched.

“‘Deserve’?” Jake spit through gritted teeth like the word burned him.

She scoffed, “Kyle, you showed up an hour late, not me.” “Seriously? That’s what you’re hung up on? It wasn’t even-” “Shut up, I’m talking.”

Jake proudly wore a smirk on his face, loving the authority Sarah held when talking to someone that made her feel small and uncomfortable the night before.

She shoved a finger in his chest, “Then you stared at my tits while we tried to make conversation. I told you the same story twice and you didn’t notice. Then-” She laughed, “Then you body shamed me in front of the restaurant, TWICE!”

“I wasn’t body shaming you! I was just looking out-” 

Jake had enough.

He gripped Kyle by the shirt, and got right in his face, “Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘I’m sorry’, shut the fuck up and listen.”

“What’re you gonna do? Huh?” Kyle tried. “Do you really wanna find out?”

Sarah patted his back and Jake put him down.

“Kyle, I didn’t even want to go on the first date I had with you. So, I’m glad it went poorly, because it showed me who you really are. Have the day you deserve.”

Just then Paisley came up to the door, a smirk on her face at the scene in front of her.

She looked at Sarah, “Are you two still friends?” 

Sarah smiled, “Nope.”

Paisley kept her eyes on Sarah and tossed her coffee on Kyle, “Great to see ya, Kyle!” She moved past her roommate and brother, glancing back at the runner, “Oh and don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

The blonde sees the rolls and grabs one, and she quietly gets her brother’s attention “Hey JT!” He looked at her and she tossed it to him.

“Sarah, I- look, I know you’re already insecure and I just- HMPH”

 Jake shoved the roll in his mouth, “Looks like you need it. Carbs give you energy.”

He pulled Sarah to his side by her waistband. 

She gave Kyle a sickly sweet smile and a cute wave before going back to her game. 

Jake gave him a cocky grin, “Byyyyee Kyyyle.”

And when Kyle tried to step forward, Jake slammed the door, listening to the pained groan as it collided with Kyle’s forehead. 

He waited for the electronic lock to lock before moving to the couch and relaxing with his girl as she pulled up Minecraft. “Wanna build a house with me?”

Her eyes were bright as she sipped her coffee and held out a controller to him. He took it. “I’d love to.”

After a moment, Jake had to ask-

“Really, him?”

She snorted, “Shut up.”

“I’ve used toothpicks thicker than him.”

They both laughed and continued to build their little Minecraft house together, Paisley snapping plenty of photos.

*********

thank you so much for reading!! i hope this was enjoyable!

I do have a pinterest board set up for this, just to help me get into the vibe (one is to help with future parts, one is only for the current parts)

SO

if you want to check it out and get more of a feel for the dynamic going on---- you can click right --->   here

Like mentioned in the last one, feedback is greatly appreciated!

and my asks are open, feel free to request what you would like to see next while i’m working on the next part!

<3 <3 <3

I want to wish you all a Happy New Year! May this year be filled with self love and acceptance! I love and appreciate all of you that stop by! 

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

Can you combine 38 and 13. He’s posing. 🥰

Nice combo! Here’s my attempt at a short Eddie thing. :D The prompt list is HERE for anyone else interested. <3

Title: Art School

Words: 3k

Tags: nudity, pinning, mutual pinning, jealousy, crop tops, eye-fucking, flirting, UST <3

Summary: 38. posing nude for art and 13. "Wipe that smirk off your face!"

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It’s mid-summer, on a Saturday, and the AC is out at the Munson trailer where you and Eddie would normally be lavishing your attention over the miniatures you both bought on Friday from the Neptune Comic Shop in the next town over. Instead of that, however, as stimulating as it was and would be, you’re at your place where the house is empty on Lover’s Lake and the air is chilled—though Eddie hasn’t changed back into his hellfire shirt and vest like you assumed. Seeing him throw down on the paisley sofa in the living room, a gaggle of pale skin and wild (slightly damp with sweat) brown hair, made you pop the question. 

“Wouldn’t it be weird if I drew you? No… I should totally draw you. Let me draw you, okay?”

How could you not think about it when his threadbare DIO crop top, with the sleeves ripped off, was just… riding up his stomach like that??

“Like…” Eddie extends the word, frozen mid-chill over the cushions with an unlit joint perched between his lips, “… draw me how?” Did you detect a hint of suspicion in his tone as well?

You shrug, fanning yourself with the hem of your loaned Ozzy tank, having totally forgotten your long sleeve back in his room where it’d been declared a bodily hazard in the heat an hour ago; now you’re here—home—but why is it still warm in here?

“The regular way?” You supply suggestively.

“So, I don’t have to do anything?” His posture relaxes, the joint leaning against his bottom lip as he sinks into place. Saturday Eddie, especially post-graduation, part-time record store worker on a Saturday Eddie, preferred to move as little as humanly possible; hence the joint wetting against his tongue and the kicked-off Reeboks on your floor, his ankles already folded on the armrest.

“Do anything? Oh, no… I mean, you can literally lay there and touch the sky, in fact,” you rub your thumb under your chin, looking at his figure in the pale afternoon light spilling in from the bay windows, “… yeah, in fact, I would have to insist you be as stoned as possible; otherwise, you’ll just mess it all up with your jitters.”

Eddie makes a face that suggests he thought about being offended but is already bought and sold by your stoney encouragement. He fishes for a lighter out of his pocket and does as he’s told. When you make a sound in your throat, Eddie pauses, big ol’ browns aimed your way across the living room.

“Uh-huh?” He mouths.

“Sorry, just…” you lift your hand in a gesture that’s basically a raised pointer finger crooked awkwardly at his unlit spliff, “… if you could take all your clothes off first, that’d be great.” 

Both his brows lift. Eddie blinks, eyes going wide in delayed surprise, and—endearingly—the joint slips off his lower lip to his chest as he swallows thick and loud.

“You… want me to…”

“Then again,” you backpedal quickly, “… I can always wait for the community center to start up their life drawing classes again—or I could ask Steve—or we could-“

“Harrington?!” Eddie bolts upright on the sofa, fumbling with the tender joint that nearly falls to the floor until he’s got it fisted in a death grip against his exposed stomach, glaring over at you in peak natural lighting that throws beautiful shadows into his horrified face, “Please don’t tell me you’ve already asked him?”

Is that jealousy in his voice?

“What? No…” You force a little laugh, remembering the absolutely shocking amount of chest hair on Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington back in the Upside Down. That would have been a bitch to draw…

“I mean, can you imagine? I might as well draw Bigfoot.”

Some of the tension in Eddie’s body dissipates as you fiddle with the hem of your tank, picking at a stray ink chip on the ‘O’ in Ozzy only to freeze, forgetting it’s not yours… but borrowed, worn on the regular by Eddie with some of his sweaty essence still hanging around the collar. A good, comforting smell that’s ripe with stale nicotine and whatever aftershave he uses (old spice, maybe) settles your nerves a little, at least enough to continue living in the sudden summer silence.

After a thick second, Eddie shifts and stands up, still staring with those doe-dark eyes swimming with blown black pupils and a gleam against the sunlight, “This is part of your portfolio, right? That… uh, the thing you’ve been working on for college?”

You nod, biting down a wry reply because if it’s not theories about the upcoming second edition of D&D, or whether Black Sabbath was better with DIO or Ozzy… or if the record store was going to finally sell some of Eddie’s Corroded Coffin tapes then it was about your portfolio. Eddie’s already posed for you before, albeit usually when he was scratch-writing in campaign details for Hellfire or passed out fetchingly on the floor after indulging in too many peanut butter and marshmallow sammiches mixed with whatever new drug he was selling that month. It won’t even be the first time you’ve drawn him shirtless, having found him sitting on the bench out back a while ago. He’d been in just his jeans after Steve accidentally squirted him with kerosine while trying to light up a barbecue…

You slow blink as a blush fills your cheeks at the memory; it hadn’t been long after spring break ended and his last year in high school began again… with the wounds from the demo bats still fresh enough to pull his skin taut in places that looked terribly painful, but also… metal as fuck.

Your gaze travels down his stomach to the hem of his jeans, where a shiny pink and puckered scar starts around the cut of his hip bone, disappearing past the handcuff belt buckle. That one had infected early on, and you’d often see him with his jeans low around his hips, adjusting fresh gauze with sharp-smelling antibiotic creams.

Lost in memories, you barely hear Eddie clear his throat. He does it again, louder, snapping your eyes back up to his. Oh, shit… you’ve been caught… staring… there… again…

“Is this where the fair maiden confesses her undying love for me after all this time?” He’s wearing a wide-lipped smirk, the joint pinched between his lips as his ring-decorated fingers rapt obnoxiously—erotically—against the front of his cuff-buckle.

“Don’t get cute, Munson,” you admonish, but it’s flimsy, and you both know it. 

It’s been a year since Vecna and the bats—the Metallica show in the Upside Down that won you over as if you weren’t already in love with him before then. It’s been just as long since you kissed him, falling with his arms wrapped tight around you—falling right side up in his trailer on that stained mattress, with blood still on his lips and old tears on his cheeks… you’d grabbed him by the puffy vest collar, sobbed in stark relief and kissed him so hard Eddie laughed before fisting your nape in a shaken grip, sticking his tongue down your throat.

You haven't kissed anyone since then for fear it’ll wash away the memory of Eddie messily making out with you on the mattress as the rush of stolen life lowered both your inhibitions. It must have just been the heat of the moment—all that adrenaline needing an outlet somehow. Eddie never brought it up again… though, neither did you.

“You know if you wanted to get me naked, there’s way easier ways to do that, sweetheart.”

“That’s… not,” you rub your blushing cheek bashfully, “why do you have to say it like that?”

Eddie shrugs, looking handsome and lazy and glad to be here with you, “You blush when I flirt with you. Looks good on you. Real pretty,” his relaxed gaze widens as you look away, “... uh, n-not that you’re not always pretty… but prettier. Blushing. That is.”

You glance back, willing your cheeks to cool, but Eddie lifts the crop top over his head, throwing it on the coffee table with a brazen, nervous smile, and your soul turns into a forest fire of biblical proportions. He toes off his socks and then moves to his belt, and it’s then that you turn around—cheeks ablaze—and beeline it to your room at the end of the hallway.

“Where’re you going?” Eddie calls after, sounding like he did something wrong. Far from it, you think.

“N-need my stuff!” You squeak, slipping into your bedroom. 

The gloomy, familiar contours of your bedroom do nothing to ease the burn in your face or the gallop of your heart. You’ve got about ten seconds before Eddie gets fidgety and follows you back here, so… where the fuck is your charcoal tin?! Where did you put your mother fucking confidence?! You pace, fingers in your hair, willing your breathing to settle, and as you’re on the cusp of hyperventilating, you kick something halfway under your bed with a woodsy rattle.

Your charcoals?! Yes!

“Come here, you stupid fucking-“

“Being bossy with the inanimate objects, huh?” Eddie leans against your door jam, shirtless, covered in salmon-silver testaments to last year's spring break with a light dusting of chest hair… not to mention the soft-looking line of fuzz that runs from his navel to the unbuckled belt hanging off his hips.

Fucking fiddle sticks…

“Why are you-” you freeze, bent over at the waist with your gray-tin case of charcoal in one hand and your bare thigh in the other. With eyes dialed in—narrowed at the slow, almost debauched leer splitting Eddie Munson’s kindly angular face—you huff, “Look, I told you, Eddie. It’s nothing like that, so don’t make it a big thing.”

Eddie’s grin turns to shit-eating delight as your own words ‘big thing’ sink in. Your flush returns ten-fold, realizing the innuendo you slid into the air between you without coaxing from him. 

He’s good at that, you grumble, gathering your supplies off the floor to just… do something with your hands other than squirm. You give him a pursed-lipped look over some messy bangs and immediately regret your decision, nervous energy boiling over hard enough that a clean, cool sweat breaks out over your face. How can he do this to you with your own words and that charming Munson smile?

Should be criminal…

“Look, are you gonna help me with this portfolio, or are you gonna use this to mess with me? Cause, you know… I’m sure Steve wouldn’t mind dropping his stupid khakis if I asked nicely.”

Usually, that would get you a pout or some sort of ‘come on, don’t be like that,’ but all Eddie does is drop his chin, gaze steady on yours beneath unkempt bangs… and pops the button on his jeans. You swallow as he peels down the zipper and hooks his thumbs under linen and denim and…

You bite the tip of your tongue to hold down the whine as Eddie kicks off his jeans and boxers, standing stark naked in your doorway, tapping his fingers against his thighs restlessly, still wearing that fucking smirk despite the way his cheeks grow rosy and stained.

“I-I um… okay. T-thank you, Eddie.” 

Holy shit. It hurts to keep your eyes above Eddie's downward-cut hips, but… you just gotta get him back to the living room and posed, and then you can look—you’re gonna need to look. Why didn’t that thought cross your mind before, like… really cross your mind?! Right now, if you get a glimpse of whatever Eddie Munson has been hiding behind dramatic hip twists, thick denim, and weighted belt buckles, you’re gonna-

“This would’ve been more impressive back at my place. It’s so fucking cold in here…”

“Uh,” Eddie actually sounds a little nervous despite the canary grin, eyes tracing around your room and settling on your messily-made bed, “Where do you want me?” Why does that sound like such a loaded question?

You double fist the paper pad and tin box just so you can point behind him down the hallway because what even is a voice box anymore? Your whole heart is stuffed in your throat at this point, and speech feels rather impossible… He hesitates for a moment before giving you twin finger guns. What a dork… He gives those fingers a wag before turning around and casually walking down the hallway, you following close behind. The logic being, the closer you are to his naked back, the less inclined you’ll be to look at his bare ass.

Just don't look, and all will be well...

This mantra follows you with each breath until your toe catches a raised floorboard in the middle of the hallway, the bane of your early morning routine, but this time it draws your attention to your feet and then back up, but your eyes don't stop, instead locking on Eddie's butt where a beholder's eye tattoo stares back above his right cheek.

“... oh, my god,” you breathe, suddenly staring right at Eddie’s sweetly pert ass as it bounces gently with each step forward. Talk about paralyzing...

“Hmm?” He moans, sending you a half-glance over his shoulder where his dark curls kiss the red splattering his cheekbone. Despite the lackadaisical flare, it doesn’t help that he seems just as flustered as you.

“I said... umm, just get back on the couch, like… whatever position you find most comfortable. I need like… an hour at least so… so, yeah, get comfy, Eddie.” 

Inside, you’re melting, dying, screaming, and gnawing at your own brain, but Eddie just snorts gleefully and walks his bare fucking ass back to the paisley sofa where you’ve both shared joints, haunting silences in the wake of the apocalypse and air shredding solos from the Maiden to the Lizzy.

You avoid him and his everything as he drops back to the sofa just like before—only super fucking naked—and snatches the joint and lighter off the coffee table before you drag it across the floorboards. He gets himself situation outside your peripherals, just a long line of pale skin and long limbs painted in inky bats, dark iconography with shiny scars and dimpled bite wounds… and…

You throw some pillows from the opposite sofa on the ground in front of the coffee table and sit down with your sketch pad with an open charcoal case, knees lifted up to your chest and face covered in fresh, pulp-smelling paper. 

“Pretty sure you’re gonna have to look if you wanna draw me unless you’ve thought about this so much your imagination’s just as good.”

You scoff behind the sketch pad, “You’re the Dungeon Master, not me; if anyone could draw each other naked purely from perverted daydreams, it’d be you.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, and it’s the silence that finally gets you lowering the pad, peeking over the edge as he tongues the end of a damp joint between his lips. His knuckled fingers are threaded over his stomach, rings of skull, pig, and cross, throwing up sharp pins of light across his knuckles. He’s staring with that same obscured, bang-dusted look, but his eyes are cast downward, glued over your naked legs in the denim shorts….

Your eyes wander as well, feeling less shy as his eyes trace down your calves and bare feet—you, however… Your gaze is so much less innocent… slipping down his navel where his breath rises and falls, past the trail of scattered brown hairs to the grove of wispy curls that frame the half-hard sight of Eddie Munson’s cock, leaning all pink-tipped and thick over his fuzzy thigh with a delicate sack of hairy flesh cradled beneath. He’s got one leg raised, bent up against the back of the sofa with his heel in the cushions, the other hanging off the side where his foot touches the floorboards.

Immediately, your fingers go white—death gripping your sketch pad—as a silky gush of moisture wets your underwear. 

He’s… big… why is he so big?! Are they supposed to be that size? 

You think back to your limited experience with men and come up overwhelmed by Eddie just laying there naked, not even fully hard on your fucking sofa waiting to be sketched like some classy french girl, but… 

Oh, fuck. You can’t do this. Why did you think you could-

Your eyes widen and a little gasp leaves your lips as Eddie’s cock twitches, stiffening… growing ruddy and swollen… the sweeping lines around the tip flaring with blood. Suddenly, without thought, you lick your lips and picture shoving his hips into the sofa while sucking and slurping, licking and drooling as you blow him—siphon his soul through his dick until he’s a blubbering mess with fingers tugging in your hair and hot, salty cum shooting down your throat. 

You gulp, blink and look up only to find Eddie fucking Munson with the biggest, most asinine grin on his face—the look of someone who knows he’s being ogled like… like he knows how badly you wanna worship his stupidly, perfect, fucking dick.

“Ugh, wipe that smirk off your face, Eddie! It’s not…” you bite your lip as he flicks the lighter to a hot flame, “… it’s not helping.”

Eddie lights up the joint in the corner of his insufferably attractive smirk, bends an elbow, shoves a palm behind his head, settles deeper into the cushions with a bounce of hard dick, and says on an exhale of weed, “Come over here and make me.”

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You can find me on AO3 and you can read my huge Eddie Munson/Reader fic Fortune Teller too. If ya want. <3

[aberfaeth]

hi everyone idk if im going to write more of this so. sixth house enola holmes au be upon ye

Camilla settles into the side compartment with a low huff, letting the door slide shut behind her. She takes a single moment to rest her head against the soft red cushion of the seatback, and breathe, letting the light from the small windows glance across her face as the train speeds by. Her chest is tight with worry and her neck is sweating something fierce, but for now, she’s free. Adjusting the newsboy cap more firmly over her piled-up hair, she settles into the bench, and prepares for the long ride ahead.

Something shifts.

She stiffens, presses the balls of her too-large shoes against the wooden floor. Looks around. But there’s no one in the cart, and nothing to be moving. It’s just her, the benches, the windows, and one piece of luggage in the overhead compartment, a red and blue and white Persian geometric patterned bag. Camilla waits, and watches, still as a fencepost in the dead of night. And then—

With a muffled rrip, a pocket knife juts through the surface of the Persian bag. It jutters to and fro, until a small tear is created, large enough for a thin brown hand to reach through. Camilla watches in muffled horror as this hand undoes the latch on the bag, and pulls at the zipper, and a boy pokes his head out.

He’s sharp, is the first thing she notices—a mess of angles and bones and incongruously wavy hair, all wrapped in a well-tailored gray suit. Grunting softly, he struggles to further unzip the bag—makes surprised eye-contact with her over thin-rimmed glasses—and promptly tips out of the overhead compartment, crashing to the floor in a cloud of dust and paisley. 

“Please get out of this car,” Camilla says to the lump on the floor, for lack of any better alternative.

The boy blinks up at her, untangling himself from the bag. “I can’t,” he says, simply. “I’m in hiding.” He folds the pocketknife, tucks it in an inner pocket of his suit, and—horribly—goes to sit down opposite her. “Did you happen to spot any—”

“Brown bowler hat, six foot four,” Camilla says. “He’s on this train, searching for you.”

The boy blinks. “Well, fuck,” he says.

“And if he finds you in here, he will find me, and I shall be sent back somewhere I do not want to go,” Camilla continues, barely tamping down on her agitation. “So, again, I ask you to get out of this car.”

“You won’t be sent anywhere,” the boy says, removing his glasses to clean them with the corner of his jacket. “He’ll likely kill you. He was sent to kill me.”

For one long, full moment, Camilla stares flatly at this utter impossibility of a creature, presumably crafted in Hell and dropped from the sky with the sole purpose of ruining her entire day, and possibly her life. “He was sent to kill you,” she repeats.

The boy nods. His eyes, when he meets her gaze, are the clearest gray she has ever seen, a pool of still moonwater. “It’s a long story,” he says.

“Right.”

“I’m Master Warden Palamedes Sextus,” he says, holding a perfunctory hand out for her to shake. “The Marquess of Basilwether.”

She does not take his bird-boned hand. Instead, she leans on her side, peering through glass-paned walls out into the corridor, at the end of which she can see the aforementioned bowler hatted-man. He moves carriage by carriage, approaching swift as death, swinging his cane like a scythe. Sighing, she gathers her coat, folding it over her arms. “I refuse to die on a train,” she says, standing. “So—good day, Warden.”

Master Warden Palamedes Sextus, Marquess of Basilwether gives her a smile that is half resignation and half familiarly-insatiable curiosity. “Do I have the privilege of learning your name in return?”

“If you’re about to be killed,” Camilla says, “you will have no use for it.” And with that, she slides open the carriage door, and steps out into the corridor. 

She makes it about thirty seconds down the hallway before what Kiana calls her overdeveloped sense of justice (and what she privately thinks of as her perfectly normal sense of justice) kicks in, and she spins around, racing back towards the Master Warden Palamedes Sextus’s train carriage. Just in time—when she skids to a halt in the doorway, the man in the brown bowler hat has a fistful of the Warden’s gray lapels, and is holding him rather precariously through the now-opened side door of the train. 

Camilla shoves her way back into the carriage, but the man in the bowler hat doesn’t even spare a look at her. In fact, he looks—different, than when she’d seen him at the station— both the shoulders of his coat and his hat are damp with something wet, and vaguely smoking. He smells like acid and burnt rubber. Master Warden Palamedes Sextus, from his position half-outside of the train and dangling above the fast-moving ground beneath, meets her gaze. He’s not screaming, which surprises her, but his chest is heaving violently, and his arm steadying him against the open door is trembling.

Without sparing a moment, Camilla flips the discarded cane into her hand, and whacks the man in the brown bowler hat across the back of the head. He slumps onto the cushioned bench, knees cracking loudly against the floor.

Removed from his leverage, the Warden swings outwards on his door-perch, finally letting out a yell of alarm. He slams against the outer wall of the train. Camilla hurries over, wraps both hands around his arm, and pulls. She’s going against the wind, and all its drag force—her arms scream—she plants her feet and grits her teeth and yanks, and they both fly back into the relative safety of the carriage. 

“I had that handled,” Master Warden Palamedes Sextus says, pleasantly. He’s got a hand on her shoulder, and she thinks it might be all that’s still holding him up.

“Seemed like it,” Camilla says, eyeing his wind-whipped mess of hair. And then, glancing down at the stirring man on the ground, “we should run.”

“Probably,” the Warden agrees.

They take off down the corridor. It’s hard to move quickly through a thin train hallway, but they manage, Camilla pulling the Warden through throngs of people when his polite request that they move out of the way is taken too slowly. His wrist is thin. She can feel the bones shift under her grip. His pulse is—unsurprisingly, given the murder attempt—rumbling like an engine.

“Where are we going?” he asks, after a minute.

Camilla says nothing, because she really doesn’t know—only that the further they are away from the man with the bowler hat, the less likely they are to be dead. She tugs him all the way to the front of the train, until they open the farthest carriage door and come face to face with the side of a coal car.

Outside, the wind is bitingly vicious, whipping strands of hair from the sides of her face into her eyes. Camilla squints out at the curve of track she can see before them, the rolling green hills of the countryside, and ahead, the bridge that crosses over the ravine, worn like a gash into the ground. An idea begins to form.

She looks back at the Warden, who seems to have come to a similar conclusion—or else that look of grim determination is something he came out of the womb wearing. “Do you trust me?” she asks, healthily sardonic—not expecting anything in the universe of the affirmative, really.

But Master Warden Palamedes Sextus, Marquess of Basilwether looks at her, those opalescent eyes shining bright behind the twisted frames of his glasses, and an odd little smile crosses his thin mouth. “I think so,” he says, and it doesn’t sound grave at all—it sounds like a fact.

Camilla grits her teeth, and grabs his hand. When the man with the brown bowler hat crashes into the carriage—when the coal cart ahead of them just begins to edge onto the bridge over the fathomless ravine—she jumps. And he jumps with her.

[litgwritersroom]

A Friendship Thing

Emily - 5100+ words - @tammyisobsessedwith

It's been years since Love Island ended, and Emily has long since moved on (or tried to). Then an opportunity and an old face make their way into her life unexpectedly.

“Hey, I think I recognise you from somewhere! Were you on TV or something?”

Oh wow, the unexpected Scottish accent smack in the middle of Essex from whoever had said that brought a welcomed wave of homesickness, but those were some words Emily Paisley hadn’t heard in a while. Even in the heyday right after her short participation on Love Island three years ago, she’d never been one of the faces most recognised by the public or the media alike; something that in all honesty she was more than fine with. After all, when they did remember who she was, it was only to harass her for having had sex with a man she barely knew on national telly.

Yeah, sleeping with Jakub Zabinski right after meeting him hadn’t admittedly been her best decision, although, if she were honest, it was quite on par with the type of decisions she’d usually make out in the real world. The only difference was that if she chose to sleep around with virtual strangers the only people hearing about it normally would be her friends (and, presumably, that virtual stranger’s friends) whereas under the watchful cameras of Love Island she’d had to contend with the whole of Britain weighing in with their opinions on everything that had happened at the Villa in Mallorca.

And frankly, she’d told them all they could suck it. Basically it was her life, her choice ─ and Jakub’s, of course. If she wanted to sleep around and be a slag, then that’s what she was gonna do. Emily had always been unapologetic about her sexuality and being able to express it in whichever way she chose to, and she’d be damned if she would let strangers and their unnecessary or unwelcomed opinions dictate what she could or could not do.

Rolling her grey eyes a little to herself, Emily turned around with a sweet (and completely fake) smile to answer whoever it was that had the misfortune of recognising her right in the middle of her shift. As she’d been working at the top nightclubs circle for the past few years now she’d been subjected to all kinds of shit and was practically a master at indirectly telling people to fuck off while mixing them cocktails and dismissing them away all under the same breath.

However when she directed her gaze to whoever it was that had called out, she was met with a boyishly handsome face dotted with freckles, bright hazel eyes and a cheeky smile she would recognise anywhere in the world. Her fake smile melted into a genuine one before morphing into a smirk.

“You know, your pretty face is really familiar too.” Emily commented loudly over the music blasting through the nightclub, her own Scottish accent coming out more strongly than usual and accompanying a cheeky raised eyebrow as she continued mixing the cocktail shaker in her hands. “Did we happen to share a bed together one time or something?”

“One time?” Bobby McKenzie gasped in a mock offended tone. “Try multiple times, woman!”

“Soz, I can’t really keep track.” She replied with a careless shrug as she poured the drink in a cocktail glass and garnished it before handing it to someone next to him. “Y’know, ‘cause I’m such a slag.”

Bobby snickered at that as he leaned forward over the bar and gestured at their surroundings with one hand. “So when do you get a break?”

“A break? What’s that?” She asked, the sarcasm in her voice pairing nicely with the dry eyebrow she raised at him as she already turned to make the next drink in her order line.

“C’mon, Em!” He said, laughter in his voice. “Get someone to cover for you, come out here and give me a proper hug.”

She shook her head, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her lips. “Hold on, let me see if I can find someone.”

It took a while, as she needed to get through the peak of drink orders for the night and wait for movement to slow down a little bit before she could get her somewhat regularly scheduled cigarette break. Her eyes scanned for Bobby across the dwindling dance floor and she found him chatting and laughing with a group of girls, but as soon as he saw her looking he broke off with some quickly exchanged words as he followed her head tilt towards the outside smoking area.

“So what are you doing here, McKenzie?” Emily asked after he gave her one of his bear hugs as she leaned against the outside wall and gestured at the cigarette pack in her hand.

Bobby wordlessly shook his head at the offer. “Ah you know, night out on the town, checking out the hotspots. How have you been?”

“Fabulous, as you can see.” She said with a smile after lighting up her cigarette. “Enjoying the life of the bartender extraordinaire to the fullest. And you’re certainly in the right place if you were looking for the best night out.”

“Yeah, I heard this was where I’d find all the buzz.” He said, looking up at the nightclub’s facade and neon sign.

She took a long drag before speaking. “How’s the bakery doing?”

“Business is thriving. So much that I’m actually expanding my portfolio a bit.” He said it with waggling eyebrows.

She reflexively rolled her eyes. “Oh god, you’re one of those people who use the word ‘portfolio’ now.”

“Hey, I’m still the same old Bobby!” He protested, but there was a smile on his face.

“Hardly. You’re a proper famous person.” She gave him a pointed look. He may like to downplay his fame sometimes, but with the exception of DJ Tim “Big T” Davies, Bobby was probably the most famous and successful of all former Islanders. “I’m surprised one of your fans hasn’t tackled me yet out of demented jealousy or something.” A smirk pulled at her lips, as she reminded him of an old incident when one of his rabid fans had literally tackled Lottie when they’d been walking in the streets a couple of months after they’d come back from the show.

“Ugh, that was one time.” He said, a groan in his voice accompanying an exasperated and somewhat embarrassed roll of his eyes.

“Still, you’re never gonna live that down.” Emily insisted with a grin, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “Let me say that’s one of the upsides of the fact that almost nobody even remembers I was in that show anymore. I really couldn’t care less for all of that attention.” She made a pointed tap to her cigarette, watching the ashes float down to the ground as if they carried her words with them.

“Yeah, you really had it rough there for a while.” He commented, his hazel eyes looking softer as he looked back at her.

“Not sure why I was the one who got all the flak seeing as Jakub was the one actually sleeping around.” She said dryly with a raised eyebrow.

“If that ain’t the truth.” He rolled his eyes then grimaced a little. “Sorry I never spoke up about it when it was all going down.”

“It’s fine.” She said easily with a dismissive hand. “I know you guys are friends.”

“We are,” he agreed with a matter-of-fact shrug, as Bobby was literally everyone’s friend, even the people not everyone got along with at the Villa or those the public or media didn’t really favour. “But I still think he was a fuckin’ numpty.”

A smile broke out on her face. “Aww Bobby McKenzie, the Love Island player with a heart of gold.”

He snorted at that. “Still not sure where I got that reputation.”

“It’s your face.” She explained, inhaling on her cigarette before elaborating, watching in delight as he blinked his eyes in a perplexed manner. “It’s too pretty, everyone automatically thinks you’re a fuckboy. Like you’re gonna ‘love them and leave ‘em and ruin ‘em for all other men’ type of shit.”

Bobby let out a bark of laughter as he shook his head. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“It’s not me, it’s your fans!” She insisted, laughter also bubbling up with her words. “They’re the ones coming up with it.”

His hazel eyes narrowed playfully back at her. “Oh so you’re saying you’re not a fan then?”

“Definitely not.” She volleyed back immediately, her lips twisting into an impish grin before his exaggerated gasp at hearing her words. “Sorry mate, I can see you for all you are, the good parts and the flaws.”

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head. “And here I was, coming all the way over to Essex just to make you a proposition only to be treated like this?”

“Oh?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “So are you proposing? Or propositioning? Not sure which one of those is the more terrifying prospect, actually.” She faked a shudder for effect.

“Oi! I’m actually serious here for once.” Bobby said, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face or the laughter off his voice.

A smirk pulled at her lips as she put out the end of her cigarette and threw it away. “Then use more serious words or at least put on a serious face, ‘cause right now it’s still seriously hard to take any of this seriously.”

“That word has lost all meaning now.” He shook his head again, but made a show of taking a deep breath in and trying to put on a serious face. “Okay, here goes: I’m opening up a restaurant and I want you to be my cocktail person.”

“What?” She blinked her eyes in surprise before she recovered herself a little. “I mean, great news about the restaurant! Congrats!” She enthused, wrapping her arms around him for a quick hug before she pulled back with a frown. “But what is even a cocktail person?”

“You know, the person in charge of creating cocktails for the menu.” He explained with a shrug. “Yeah, there’ll be the classic shit in there, but it’s a fusion restaurant and I want to have a cocktail menu that’s innovative as well. And I think you’re the person for the job.”

“Oh wow, I dunno what to say.” Emily said, unusually lost for words as she took in what he said. She’d always been one to give rapid fire responses, especially when talking to Bobby as they vibed since they’d first met during Casa Amor, but she had definitely not been expecting that.

He seemed somewhat delighted at having surprised her and laughed a little. “That’s easy, say ‘yes Bobby, I’ll be your cocktail person’.”

She crossed her arms and frowned. “Is this you doing one of your charity things?”

Emily thought that was a valid question. Bobby was not only everyone’s friend, he was also always showing up, supporting and posting on his platforms about whatever the former Islanders were doing over the last three years: Lottie’s new makeup brand, Priya’s new collab with an up and coming designer, Hannah’s new novel, Hope’s new toy line. Catching one of Kassam’s shows on his tour, watching one of Rahim’s tournaments, cheering on at Jo’s races, checking out Noah’s project with kids at the library. Celebrating Marisol’s graduation from law school, doing a spot for Elisa’s socials, being a special guest at one of Chelsea’s parties, or even just retweeting Jakub’s photo shoot or sharing one of Gary’s reels about the new big crane he got to operate on at work.

“What are you even on about now?” He asked with a bemused twist to his lips.

“You know, you doing your rounds, keeping up with the gang and putting a marginal spotlight on what they’re up to through your social media and shit?” She said with a slight roll of her eyes and somewhat vague gesture with her hands. “‘Cause I told you already, I don’t really care for the attention. And I’m not a charity case.” She added the last part a little under her breath, looking away.

“I know, I agree. You’re actually one of the best in the business and that’s why I’m here.” He replied at once before dramatically placing one hand over his heart. “Honest to God, Em. I didn’t even know it was you, I thought you were still up in Edinburgh!”

“I didn’t really tell anyone other than my immediate family that I was moving.” She said with a careless shrug. “Just needed a fresh start, I guess.”

Bobby just stopped and looked at her for a few silent beats. “Yeah, I get it.”

The unexpected concern in his eyes made her suddenly uncomfortable as it was so at odds with their normally playful banter, so she looked away and cleared her throat. “Anyway, how did you manage to stumble into my playing grounds tonight then, that is if you weren’t actually stalking me?” Emily looked back at him while arching a teasing eyebrow.

He playfully tapped the side of his nose with a grin before shaking his head as she laughed. “Nah, jokes. I was putting together a list of experts to scout and I was told to come check out this place by a mate who works in the area and knows what’s what.”

“You’re having me on.” She said, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe she was good at her job, because she knew she was. But the idea that people would be actively pursuing her was a little baffling. It wasn’t like she was a drinks connoisseur or entrepreneur like Allegra D’Annunzio ─ self-proclaimed or otherwise.

“No, for real. He said your cocktails are one of the reasons people love this place and I could see that. Plus I remember back at the Villa how great you were when you taught me how to make a jellyfish.” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

“Don’t you mean a Bobbyfish?” She asked cheekily and they shared a chuckle at that. “So you were looking at potential candidates and now that you saw it was me working here you’re just offering me the job, just like that?”

He nodded back at once. “Yeah, absolutely.”

He just left it at that and Emily looked back at him for a moment as she thought it over. “Alright. I’m in.” She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a quiet smile.

A wide grin spread over his lips. “You are?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, suddenly feeling just as excited about it as he seemed to be. “Bet you weren’t expecting me to agree so fast, huh?”

“No way, I’m buzzing! This is gonna be amazing, Em!” He wrapped her up in another of his bear hugs and they laughed together for a moment before going back inside as apparently she wanted to give her notice right away.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Emily negotiated her exit from the staff at the club in Essex even as she worked out the details to get on board with Bobby’s new restaurant. It may have been a hasty decision even for her standards ─ though in all honesty she’d always been more of a ‘leap before you look’ kind of gal; it was how she’d ended up on Love Island in the first place after being scouted back in Edinburgh then how she’d impulsively moved out of Scotland to Essex after all. But after sitting down with Bobby for a proper meeting where they went over his plan and the vision that he had for the restaurant, she knew it was a solid business endeavour.

As it should be. Ever since the Villa, everything that boy touched turned to gold, and it was one of the things that had prompted her to take his offer.

The other was that she never really got over the teeny, tiny (minor, really) crush she’d developed on Bobby during the Casa Amor days ─ but if asked, Emily would deny it to her very last breath. She’d gone through enough humiliation back then, going from fucked (by Jakub) to friendzoned (by Bobby) faster than anyone could say, “whiplash much?”

“You’re gonna be working with him now, Em.” Blake commented when they were out for drinks one night after she’d told her the whole story. “Day in, day out. You working at the bar, him in the kitchen then working the room to greet important people. Your eyes meet across the crowded room. You guys stay out late to close the books or something like that…” She trailed off, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow before bringing her cocktail glass up to her lips.

“You’re reading too many trashy romance novels, love. You know we’re just friends.” Emily replied in a dry tone. “That’s all Bobby’s ever wanted with any of the girls.”

“Not true.” Blake retorted. “He was shagging Lottie by the end of the season.”

“Yeah, but it was always a more friends-with-benefits type of thing.” Emily countered with a frown. “They barely carried on once they were back home. I don’t think he ever saw anything long-term with anyone at the Villa, to be honest.”

“Except the new Mrs. Rennell.” Blake replied, rolling her eyes a little. “I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t save you at that recoupling even if just to keep you in the Villa because he was so ridiculously besotted with her, even after she dumped him to get back together with crane boy. D’you think he ever got over his crush on her or is it like extremely awkward if he ever hangs out with Gary and the missus?”

“I don’t think it’s awks, because that’s not Bobby.” Emily shook her head, as she knew he was always making sure everyone was comfortable and having their best time if they were out together. “But if he still has feelings for her… Who knows?” She finished with a shrug.

Blake was right about one thing: Emily did get to spend a lot of time with Bobby now, especially as they started working on the new cocktail menu. As the licences and other business and legal requirements were underway for the new restaurant, she spent several nights in a row at his apartment as he cooked her what would be his signature dishes and she experimented with different cocktails, the two of them workshopping to see which flavours would go best together.

It was also a lot more fun than she’d been expecting. She’d created a few signature drinks for past employers, but she’d never got to think about a whole menu like this ─ plus having someone else to bounce off and who knew so much about food made a world of difference. 

Yet as things started ramping up for the big opening and Emily watched Bobby spending more time training his kitchen staff, she realised it was just the way he did things. He was the total opposite of the classic, clichéd head chef yelling his head off and terrorising his sous chefs. He treated everyone nicely, huge smiles all around and good humour, good vibes surrounding the whole kitchen and supporting staff.

She’d never seen someone working as hard as he was. And honestly she’d never worked as hard either, as she now had staff under her and needed to train the bartenders so they’d be as skilled as she was in making those drinks that they’d created after so much joint effort.

It seemed like in no time at all the grand opening was upon them and everything went off without a hitch. Emily wasn’t really surprised, given the amount of effort everyone put into it, but it was also one of those things where it seemed like everything magically aligned together and it went so smoothly that it was almost too good to be true. But it was the sort of thing that just happened around Bobby, either as a direct result of his actions or the way he seemed to be such a great boss and uplift everyone around him that they all wanted to do their best for him, too.

She realised that went for her too, one afternoon between shifts at the restaurant when she was checking the bar for supplies and doing inventory and he hurriedly walked out of the kitchen, heading straight towards her.

“I need you to take tonight off.” He said without preamble when he was still halfway across the salon. “I know it’s not in the schedule, but I called Samantha and she’s coming ‘round to fill in for you.”

“You don’t want me working tonight?” She turned to him with a frown. “Why?”

He made a half resigned, half exasperated hand gesture, but there was still a smile on his face. “I squeezed in Gary and Julie for a last minute reservation late in the night and they want us to join them for dinner.” He reached the bar and braced his hands against it, leaning forward. “Say ‘yes’ to this, please?” He asked with one of his charming smiles.

“Well, what choice do I have?” She asked with a teasing eyebrow. “The boss is telling me to take the night off. I can’t very well say ‘no’.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” He said with a grin before shaking his head. “And I thought I told you to stop with this whole ‘boss’ nonsense already.”

“Bobby, you are the boss.” She insisted with a smirk. “It’s literally your name on top of that door.” She pointed at their front door with the clipboard in her hand.

“I’m pretty sure it says ‘The Melting Pot’.” He countered with a raised eyebrow.

“‘By Bobby McKenzie.’” She volleyed back with a pointed look.

They bantered back and forth for a bit as she kept doing inventory until he took the clipboard away and handed it to one of the bartenders on staff, saying she was off for the rest of the day.

She took the opportunity to dress up, doing her dark hair half-up, styling it to come down in gentle waves over one shoulder. She also got one of the nicer cocktail dresses she had out of her closet, which made a nice change from the usual dark trousers and blouse she’d wear for work.

It was a very nice evening, but it was so surreal at the same time: getting to the restaurant with the other patrons instead of being there hours before to open things up. Being seated by the maitre then waited on by people who were her colleagues and personal friends. She imagined it was the same for Bobby, as he split his time being in the kitchen overseeing their plates then sitting down with them to enjoy the meal and the drinks.

Gary and Julie were delighted they were all able to spend the night together, drinking and eating and chatting away. Emily could see the lads were still as silly and easygoing around each other as during their time back at the Villa, as even if time had passed they were still the same jokesters as before. Their sense of humour and easy banter was one of the things she most liked about them, and it was the same for Julie, who gave it back as good as she got.

They’d been done with the main course and chatting away before moving on to dessert when Emily got a little sidetracked in her conversation with Julie about her new research project for her doctorate at the university as she peripherally noticed an exchange of sorts happening between Gary and Bobby, the latter shaking his head and laughing away at something the blonde man had asked in a low voice.

“Alright, it’s time for my fave part.” Bobby said, almost as if he were trying to distract his friend from whatever they had been talking about. “Just wait here as I get the finishing touches on the desserts.”

As he got up and walked back towards the kitchen, Emily noted how his ears were red and that a light blush spread across his face under the freckles. “What was that about?” She asked with a bemused frown.

“What?” Gary said in a distracted manner as he turned to face her. “Oh nothing, Em.”

“Oh! I think I know.” Julie said, a slow grin taking over her lips. “Was it─?” She raised her eyebrows as she looked at her husband, and it was like they were sharing a whole silent conversation at that moment.

“C’mon, Gary.” Emily insisted with an easygoing smile. “Is it a secret? Why can’t I know?”

“Nah, it’s not a secret.” He replied with a shrug. “I was just asking Bobby if you two are a thing now.”

She felt as if the smile was frozen on her face. “What?”

“Yeah, the whole group thinks you are together and we’ve been dying to know.” Julie said, as if that had been the most normal thing in the world as she brought her glass up to her lips.

It took her a couple of seconds before she could properly react, but then Emily was laughing dismissively. “Oh no, we’ve always been just friends. Why would you even think that?”

“I dunno.” Gary commented, a sly smile forming as he rubbed a hand on his jaw. “There’s been a vibe, lately. The way he talks about you sometimes. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah, the way he looked at you when you were talking about the cocktail menu and how you two came up with all of that together…” Julie added, leaning her chin on her palm as she looked at her across the table. “I don’t know, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Bobby looking that happy.”

“He’s just excited about the restaurant.” Emily countered with an easy shrug.

“Oh yeah, don’t get me wrong.” She said, waving away a hand. “I know it was a lot of work to get this all going and I’m sure that’s part of it.”

“Just saying…” Gary chimed in then, as if he were continuing on his wife’s train of thought. “He wasn’t this happy back when he opened up the bakery.” He gave her a wink as Julie nodded emphatically next to him.

Soon, Bobby brought back the desserts and the group enjoyed the rest of their evening together, but Emily couldn’t stop those words from rattling around inside her brain and what it could all mean ─ if it even meant anything at all.

Then desserts led to more drinks, and more drinks led to the group just chatting away the rest of the night. Before they knew what was happening it was actually closing time and while they could’ve stayed put and just spent more time together having drinks as the dining room emptied out, Gary and Julie said they were in the mood to go dancing and insisted they needed to go together, for old time’s sake. The staff at the restaurant insisted they should all go and enjoy themselves and that was how Emily found herself in a nightclub with her friends instead of working behind the bar. Sure, even back when she was bartending at clubs she still went out on her free nights, especially with Blake or if Shannon happened to be in town, but with all the work recently it had been a while since she’d been out like this.

To be honest, the more surprising aspect was that she was out with Bobby and how different things felt between them. She couldn’t tell if it was the many drinks they’d had, the fact that they were letting out some steam on the dancefloor after weeks of stressing and working so hard or even if it had been Gary and Julie’s comments and questions about their current status quo. Whatever it was, something definitely felt different.

And she might’ve thought it was all in her head, some sort of shyness or awkwardness which had never been in her nature but that somehow had been brought to life at being confronted with a possibility that she’d never thought was actually possible. But she kept catching Bobby stealing glances at her, an almost-there smile on his lips as he danced a little too close, his fingertips brushing against her waist in a way that could’ve been innocent if not for the gleam in the warm hazel of his eyes.

Ah fuck this, Emily thought as she felt the familiar thrill running down her spine whenever she was about to do a ‘leap before you look’ as she pulled him by the hand and led him away towards a back wall. He followed her with no resistance, a grin pulling at his lips, almost as if he’d been expecting her to pull that move.

It was reckless and impulsive and maybe even foolhardy, considering he was not only her friend who had put her in the friendzone some three years ago but her boss nowadays. But it was also the only way Emily Paisley knew how to be and as she pressed him up against the wall and leaned into his personal space, she paused as if to give him an out, give him a chance to put a stop to this, tell her he didn’t mean for her to get things the wrong way and that they were in fact nothing more than friends.

Then she looked up, her gaze locked with his and she felt almost naked before him, feeling the buzz in the air between them and she knew it wasn’t all in her head. With a smirk pulling at her mouth, she threaded her arms around his neck and leaned in, moving her lips to brush up against the shell of his ear.

“Your move, McKenzie.”

She could feel a shiver run down his back with her hands pressed against his shoulders. She leaned back a little to look him in the eye and saw the smile forming as the words almost tumbled out past his lips. “Shit, Em. Let’s fuck up the friendship.”

Emily barely heard the words before she felt his lips capturing hers, the taste of his lips more intoxicating than any drink they’d had that night. She pulled his body flush against hers as her hands ran over his back and neck and she practically melted under his touch.

If this was just a drunken mistake or something to just get out of their systems or something else entirely, she was willing to wait and figure it out in the morning. Right now, feeling his lips and his touch igniting her whole body, she couldn’t quite understand why they’d never done this before. But she was gonna make damn sure it’d be a night to remember.

At least there were no TV cameras around this time.

[neon-lights-and-glitter]

Taking Care Of You

Summary- All Jack wants to do while you're pregnant with your first daughter, Paisley, is take care of you even if it's something small like putting lotion on your belly. You and Jack also start to celebrate Jack's birthday with your tradition of giving each other gifts at midnight, though this time it is a matching gift. Jack can't sleep and ends up talking to Paisley while you're asleep.

Word Count- 2k

A/N- This is from a request of Jack rubbing lotion on the readers belly or talking to her bump while she's pregnant with Paisley, but I decided to add on to it just a little bit, I hope you like it!

Something you started doing as soon as your bump started to show when you were pregnant with Paisley was putting lotion on your stomach. Jack didn’t notice at first, it took him about 3 weeks to notice, you usually did it when you got out of the shower, but that day you forgot so you did it while you were getting ready for bed. 

You were standing in front of the bathroom counter, your shirt, well Jack’s shirt, lifted over your small bump, rubbing the lotion onto your bump when Jack walked into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around you, making you jump since you didn’t hear him walk in.

“Fuck you scared me.” You laughed softly. 

“Sorry baby.” Jack apologized, kissing your shoulder softly. “In my defense there is a giant mirror in front of you.” He teased, looking at you in the mirror, you leaned into his chest slightly, relaxing into his arms. The shirt falling back down once you removed your hands from your belly was too small to rest the shirt on, but if you looked close enough you could see it, wiping the left-over lotion from your hands before resting them on top of Jacks hands. Jack moved his hands to rest gently on your bump. 

“What are you doing?” Jack asked you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Putting lotion on my belly, I don’t know, I saw its supposed to help with stretch marks and itchiness. We’ll see if it works in 5 months.” You explained to Jack who nodded.

“Do you need help?” Jack asked and you shook your head. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Jack was constantly asking if you needed anything. It didn’t matter how small or big it was. You needed something from the other room? Jack would get it for you. You wanted some random food you were craving at 4am? Jack would go get it with no complaints, well, at least not to you, when Urban would ask him the next day why he was so tired, then he would complain a little bit, but he still didn’t mind doing it.

“No, I just finished, but thank you for offering.” You told him, turning around in his arms, leaning against the counter, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. 

“Do you do this every day?” Jack asked you and you nodded.

“I try to.” You said, Jack kissed your forehead gently.

“Can I help you tomorrow then?” Jack asked you and you nodded.

“You know you don’t have to help me with everything, but yes, you can.” You smiled softly, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” Jack reassured you.

Every night for the next 4 months Jack made sure that either one of you had put lotion on your bump. More often than not it was Jack though. Even the night you two had gotten into an argument and Jack left the apartment for a couple hours, he had texted you around the time you normally got ready for bed to remind you.

You were currently 8 months pregnant, lying in bed next to Jack, you were trying to sleep but Paisley wouldn’t stop moving around. You groaned softly, moving to try to get more comfortable.

“You okay?” Jack asked you, opening his eyes to look at you. You nodded but sighed.

“Yeah, she just won’t stop kicking.” You said, Jack laughing softly, moving his hand to where he could feel her kicking.

“It’s still crazy to me that we’re actually going to have a baby, and soon she’ll be with us and not in your belly anymore.” Jack said, gently rubbing circles with his hand to try to calm her, but it didn’t work.

“I know. One more month, it seems like it’s going to take forever, but it’s only a couple more weeks.” You said, looking over at the clock on the nightstand, seeing it was after midnight.

“Happy birthday Jack.” You smiled softly, leaning over to kiss him gently. 

“Thank you, baby.” Jack smiled back at you, kissing you back.

“I have some gifts for you.” You told him, gently playing with his hair. “I can give them to you know if you want, since it is after midnight.” Both of you had started a tradition where on your birthday’s you would stay up and give each other your gifts at midnight, but this year Jack insisted you go to sleep, he could tell you were practically falling asleep, but now that you were in bed you couldn’t sleep. While you normally would have been angry about it, tonight you didn’t mind because it meant you could keep up your tradition. 

As you started to sit up to go get the gifts you had for Jack, he shook his head.

“No, it’s okay, you can give them to me tomorrow. I want you to sleep. Plus, I already told you that you didn’t have to get me anything. You’re doing enough already.” Jack reminded you, he knew that your pregnancy hadn’t been the easiest, and he didn’t want you to stress yourself out over something like getting him something for his birthday.

“I know you’ve said that Paisley is a good enough present, but she won’t be here for another month, so I wanted to get you a couple things anyways. Can I at least give you one of them? It’s half for her so you can’t say no.” You said and both of you laughed softly before Jack nodded.

“Only because it’s half for her.” Jack said, moving his hand from your bump. “Do you need help up?” Jack asked and you shook your head, but Jack rested his hand on your back anyway, just in case.

You walked into your closet, grabbing 2 boxes, one bigger than the other, walking back to the bed and putting them down in front of Jack who had sat up when you got out of bed. 

“Okay, open the bigger one first, then the smaller one, then I’ll explain.” You said, sitting back down on your side of the bed, Jack nodded. When Jack opened the first box, he found a pair of shoes that he had mentioned he wanted a couple weeks ago.

“I’m surprised you remembered, you were half asleep when I mentioned these.” Jack teased you. “But thank you baby.” Jack leaned over to kiss you softly.

“I double checked with Urban they were the right ones.” You admitted, laughing softly. “I’m glad you like them.” You kissed him once more.

“You were half asleep, Urban was high, impressive either way.” Jack joked, making you laugh again. Jack opened the smaller box, finding the same shoes in a smaller size for Paisley. 

“You got us matching shoes?” Jack asked, smiling at you, you nodded.

“Yeah, I was thinking a little while ago about how I would have told you I was pregnant if you weren’t there when I took the test, and I thought about getting baby shoes, and I thought of the idea to get you two matching shoes.” You explained. “I have a couple of more things for you too, but I’ll give you those tomorrow.”

“Baby, that’s so sweet.” Jack told you. “Thank you.” Jack said, kissing you again, pushing your hair out of your face once he pulled away. “There so small.” Jack said, laughing softly. Gently holding one of the shoes up to your bump, making you smile at him, running your fingers through his hair. Jack noticed you let out a small yawn. “Tired?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.” You yawned again. “Are you?” You asked him and he nodded also.

“Yeah, let’s go to sleep then baby.” Jack said, moving the boxes off of the bed. “Did you put lotion on?” Jack asked, knowing that sometimes you forgot. 

“No.” You sighed. “I probably should.” You said as you started to sit up before Jack could stop you.

“I’ll get it for you baby. Just get comfortable, okay?” Jack told you, knowing that it usually took you a little bit to get comfortable. You nodded, while you would normally say it was okay and that you could do it, you gave in. You were tired and you knew Jack would end up getting it for you anyways, so you didn’t bother to fight it. Jack walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled softly.

“Do you need anything else?” Jack asked you, and you shook your head. 

“Nope. Just cuddles.” Jack nodded, laying down in bed next to you.

“I can do that, after I put the lotion on.” He smiled. “Has she calmed down?” He asked and you nodded.

“A little bit yeah.” 

You and Jack continued to make small talk while he rubbed the lotion on to your bump. Jack noticed your responses getting shorter and quieter until eventually he looked up to see you had fallen asleep. Jack smiled softly as he felt Paisley kick in your stomach.

“Hey, you better not wake your mom up.” Jack said as he laughed softly, making sure to whisper so he didn’t wake you up. Jack kept his hand on your bump, and tried to fall asleep, but he couldn’t. 

Something Jack got into the habit of doing when he couldn’t sleep was talking to Paisley. He wasn’t sure when he started it, but it was one of his favorite things to do. 

“You know, I can’t believe you’re going to be here in a month.” Jack said rubbing your belly softly. “I can’t wait for you to be here, but I’m terrified at the same time.” Jack admitted. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know everything’s going to be okay and we’ll figure it out because you have an amazing mom. There isn’t anyone else I’d rather be having you with. I love her so much. I can’t wait to ask her to marry me one day.” Jack said, looking up to make sure you were still asleep before looking back down at his hand on your bump.

“I started to look at rings the other day. I don’t know when I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I know I want to. I’ve wanted to for a while.” Jack admitted before sitting in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s crazy to think that next year you’ll be here and celebrating my birthday with me, I’ll be able to hold you instead of waiting for you to be here. I can talk to you, and maybe you’ll even be talking by then, who knows. I’m not even going to let myself think about your 1st birthday yet.” Jack looked up again, making sure he wasn’t waking you up.

“I just want to be the best dad I can be. You have so many people that love you already and that can’t wait for you to be here. Just between us, I think Urban might be one of the most excited people to meet you. He loves your mom just like I do, well, not quite as much, but he does care as much as I do. You know, he’s the reason your mom and I met. He reminds me all the time, even before we knew about you.” Jack said laughing softly. 

“Everything I’ve done for the last several months and everything that I do for the rest of my life will be for you. Well, you and your mom. I promised when I asked her to move to Atlanta with me that I wouldn’t let her down, and she told me that I never would. I just want to do everything I promised.” Jack said, sitting quietly for another minute before he felt you move a little bit, looking up, seeing you still asleep, Jack smiled softly, laying back down next to you, kissing your forehead as he did.

“I love you so much.” Jack whispered before closing his eyes and falling asleep next to you. His hand still gently resting on your belly as you cuddled into his side.

[pettyprocrastination]

Pluck Me From This Hook & Carry Me To Bed

warnings: talks of sexual themes, kidnapping, vague gore, horror. Roman is a fucking perv thirsting for his kidnapper. 

word count: 700

an: this is nothing but a burst i just wrote like ten minutes ago because I’ve been playing with the idea of the relationship between a killer who is more held back romantically and sexually and a horned up victim and how they find comfort and solace in one another due to the existing circumstances of their enviroment. Also known as ‘man gets taken to woman’s basement. he shouldn’t be so horny over it” . Initially i wanted this to be like, eddie munson in his 30′s but i didn’t think that would make sense. So i made him into an OC named Roman, takes place like 70′s-80′s ish but if you would prefer it to be eddie just lmk and I’ll probably change it lmao. 

==========

     Roman wished he could say you were ugly. 

     You were vicious. 

     Horrifying. 

     Violent and cruel. 

     But not ugly, never ugly. 

     It was something he realized after the fifth week of hanging in the basement, with nothing but the sounds of idle daily chatter from your hick family the floor above, and the pleas of unfortunate travelers like himself echoing out, hidden on the property. 

     He hardly ever saw you head on. 

     Which was one of the excuses he would tell himself. 

     Oftentimes his eyes would barely open, as you held his face in one hand while wiping away the blood and grime with a wet rag in the other. The exhaustion was too much for him to fight at that point. Before he would force himself awake, looking over every inch of the stained and rotten basement in some desperate attempt for escape or to stay alert in case one of your brother-uncle-fathers- because he can’t tell what the fucking family relation is in this horrid house, came down to taunt him again. Jeering and hollering as they dug into his wounds that you had just cleaned the day before and spit insults about his hair with crooked teeth and foul breath that smelled worse than the corpses you had yet to bury. 

     He could call it a defense mechanism. Surely some quack doctor would call it stockholm’s disorder or whatever the fucking name for it was. That despite the strength you held and the lack of remorse you had in using it on others, you had some restraint for him. The same hands he had seen snap a girl’s neck and sling a quarter back over your shoulder were the same ones that held a glass of water up to his mouth and cleaned the gash in his shoulder before wrapping it with steady fingers. 

     Roman wished you were ugly. 

     Because even as you towered over him, muscles straining your clothes, caked in blood and viscera of whatever poor soul you had just finished butchering that he did his damndest to not think about, he didn't find you particularly revolting. You were big: from the way you carried yourself to the way your clothes never seemed to properly contain you. 

     But you weren’t ugly. 

     Your eyes were big and brown and never seemed to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds, as if you were just as afraid of him as he was of you. Which, given the circumstances of him hanging from a hook in your basement, would have made him laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. 

     The clothes you wore always seemed to be under risk of popping at the seams with every move, as if they were made for a smaller body but they were all you had. He assumed your mother, a tiny little lady he had first seen before it all: before the screams and pain and nausea, before he learned what the inside of the human skull looked like and what the blistering Texas heat does to a corpse after a week (nothing kind, he’ll say that much). When she was just a little old lady at the gas station giving him directions, staring at his leather jacket and long hair with a poorly hidden grimace posed as a smile. 

     She was easily half your size, in height and curves. The ugly paisley sundresses that came to her calves would barely touch the middle of your thigh, every blouse strained against your chest and good ol’ fashion blue jeans hugged your ass in a way that for a sweet fleeting moment, would make him forget where he was. 

     Maybe his wires got crossed in the developmental stage of his life. Maybe he stole his first playboy when he was a little too young and it ruined him forever. Maybe this was all a defense mechanism, his brain’s own odd way of keeping him from going into shock from all the fucking pain and horror he’d witnessed in the last month, in some last desperate effort to keep him sane in this humble little hell on earth. 

     Maybe, Roman was just a deeply, disgustingly, horny individual. 

[luckyluan]

THE KING’S SPATULA, CON'T

FEB 20, 2024 - 11:05pm 

Cordelia’s mind swam with slippery voices. Eerie lines of melodious interest wafted through her thoughts and licked at her yearnings. Standing on the crimson dais, she was engulfed by murmurs of inclusion—willing The High Order to accept her—but she fought back.  

Cordelia’s arm felt as if it was moving against a tidal wave as the unbroken current of gleaming electricity saturated the artifact and her being. She ground her teeth as she brought her single gloved hand down on the hilt of the trident. The lightning suddenly evaporated. The dark, echoing silence contained the hum of chatter. Confused museum goers began to whisper as they groped around in the encroaching darkness. 

Cordelia knew she only had about a minute left before the emergency lights and sirens ruined her plan and she had not accounted for the mystic reaction she would have by touching the trident—The King’s Spatula, as she called it—with her bare hands. She touched her earpiece hoping to hear Kima smacking her favorite snack, but all she heard was static. She was on her own. 

The museum gallery was, suddenly, filled with pulsating red lights which illuminated the grand hall in ebbing surges; and a single gasp from an onlooker told her it was time to go.  

“Kima, you there?” Cordelia asked. 

She hopped back over the railing and into the crowd. The museum patrons skittered away from her just as the screech of the sirens reached her ears. She had twenty seconds to escape or the solid steel grilles dangling above the arch entrances of the museum would make the most ornate cage for an unwilling participant. 

“--On, lady! I...hear...words...fuck outta...so long?” Kima shouted. 

Her voice came through her earbud over waves of crunchy static. Cordelia searched for the fastest exit and settled for the back entrances. 

“...left, bitch! Go left.” Kima commanded. 

Cordelia turned on her heel and trudged toward the front door at a run. She was light on her feet and easy to miss at a height of five feet, two inches. She kept her hood low over her head with the trident dormant in her gloved hand. 

“Stop that girl!” The security guard shouted. 

Her heart fluttered as the familiar shuffle of boots mobilized on her direction.  

“She’s right there.” a voice called. 

“Fuck whoever snitch ass that was.” Kima said in her ear. 

“Thank God. I can hear you.” Cordelia sighed. 

“Be thankful for my beautiful voice later.” Kima responded. “Just stash the thingy and get the fuck outta there!” 

“How?!” Cordelia whispered. 

“Get creative!” Kima yelled. 

Cordelia looked around. People were gawking and pointing with their cellphones raised. She was about to be caught but she was certain to bump into as many people as possible as she barreled through the crowd. Cordelia chose her mark carefully. It had to be someone she could follow and finesse. Her eyes locked on a tall man in a purple paisley sweater whose backpack lay open as he bent down to tie his shoe. 

“I see him.” she murmured. 

Cordelia hurried toward him and launched her body at him. She knocked him off his feet and they tumbled to the ground in a mess of tools and art supplies.  

“Fuck! Watch where you’re going, thief!” He shouted. 

He shoved his belongings back into his back and scurried away from her. Cordelia muttered an apology as she bounded to her feet and slid under the lowering grille of the front door. She flung the door open and dashed down the sidewalk in the bright summer light of Morgan, Louisiana.  

“Did you do it?” Kima asked. 

“Yeah,” Cordelia huffed. “Fool never saw me coming.” 

“...You took his wallet, didn’t you?” Kima surmised. 

“Ha! Lunch is on me, Kima!”