#I’ll be happy to finally have my normal stomach back

[grandline-fics]

Hi, Hi, Thank you for answering! Since you said you accepted multiples characters i may ask for Ace, Zoro, Shanks if possible Marco with a s/o who during their relationship never show any signs of jealousy nor even possessiveness, very laidback. Yet one day/night, the boys just witnessed their s/o jealousy for the first time. And if possible the s/o’s jealousy is mostly staying deadly quiet with a disappointed gaze, but not cold treatment though. Or something like that? Thank you, thank you, I hope I did not asked characters you aren’t comfortable with :(

DESCRIPTION: They finally see you jealous

WARNINGS: some slight angst but it all ends happily for everyone

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Marco

WORDS: 2,453

A/N: Thank you for this request! I hope each scenario was different enough for you and that you're happy with the result for this ask

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

If Ace were to find a partner, he couldn’t get anyone better than you. You were his closest friend before you both became aware of your deep romantic feelings for the other and both confessed, allowing things to effortlessly progress into a romantic relationship. With you Ace knows he is safe and free to be himself, just as you can be yourself without judgement. Because you were both friends before becoming a couple, you both are content to spend time together while also being apart. You both can spend an evening in a bar with the other Whitebeard Pirates and hardly say a word to each other until its time for you both to return to the ship. Because of the fact neither of you cling to the other for the entirety of the night, it can lead to some misconceptions about the relationship you both have to an outsider.

One evening you returned to the Moby Dick after being sent out on a solo mission by Pops. As usual the deck was lively and filled with laughter and chatter. You noticed some new faces to the crew, making a note to properly introduce yourself to the new recruits after you spoke to Pops. On your approach you slowed to see one recruit standing very close to Ace, who merely smiled at them with his usual friendly smile. While he couldn’t see the lust in his admirer’s eyes you could see it clearly. “So you’re my commander? I’m so lucky to be under someone as handsome as you.” She smirked and Ace laughed, while you rolled your eyes, continuing to walk forward. 

Marco spotted your approach first and called out your name in greeting. Immediately Ace looked over excitedly only for his smile to drop when he spotted the look in your gaze. Normally you were as excited as he was when you were reunited but now you seemed almost disappointed. Worry flipped in his stomach and he reached out towards you but instinctively you pulled your arm away and continued to walk. “I have to talk to Pops first. I’ll catch up with you after.”

“Looks like someone’s in the doghouse.” Izou teased when he knew you were out of earshot. 

“Can you blame them? They go for a couple weeks and come back to Ace flirting with another person.” Marco chimed in with a feigned look of disapproval while Ace became panicked and looked between his fellow Division Commanders. Did you really think that? Was he really in trouble? Worse still, was his relationship with you at risk because he hadn’t realised one of the recruits was flirting with him again?

Acting on impulse he immediately raced up the deck and slid to a halt beside you, hooking an arm around your waist and hauling you off of your feet. “Sorry, Pops! Emergency!” he called out over your shouts, ignoring them and the whooping cheers as he carried you below deck to your shared room to speak in private. When you were set on your feet you lightly shoved Ace. “What the hell did you do that for?” You demanded only to blink in surprise when Ace threw himself onto his knees and wrapped his arms around your waist, staring up at you in desperation. “Please don’t end things with me! I promise you’re the only one I want, I’d never throw what we have away. I swear I didn’t flirt back. I’d never-” 

“I know Ace.” You stopped his rambling with a small smile and lightly setting your hand on his cheek. “You never realise when anyone flirts with you. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone throw themselves at you.”

“But that look on your face…and Izou and Marco said I was in the doghouse…”

“Yeah I don’t like seeing someone flirt with you but I know you’re loyal to me.” You shrugged. “As for those two, they’re just bored. I wasn’t going to get mad at you for not realising someone wanted to get with you. I trust you Ace.”

“If you were mad at me though…”

“I’d tell you.” You promised before pinching his cheek and scowling. “For example, I’m not happy you dragged me away while I was in the middle of talking to Pops. But I’ll forgive you just this once because of how worried you were.” You smiled to see the relief in Ace’s eyes and suddenly became aware of the strain in your neck. “Now would you please get up and welcome me home properly?” With a grin, Ace adjusted his hold on you and quickly pulled you down to instead settle on his lap so he could lovingly pepper your face with kissed before finally kissing you with all the love he could convey. Despite you promising you were fine he needed to show that you were the only one he ever wanted this way. 

SHANKS

“Oh Captain’s got his hands full again….or rather hand full.” You glanced across the bar as you entered the building to see what Lucky had been talking about and your sights zeroed in on the swarm of women around your Captain. Any that hadn’t been able to grab a chair at the table, stood excitedly close all of them listening to the current tale of adventure the crew had been on. Everyone in the crew, including yourself were used to this occurrence. Of course they’d be drawn to the handsome Captain with the roguish smile. You’d been drawn to it and fallen for his charm so you couldn’t exactly blame anyone else for it too. 

Despite that you still couldn’t help the foreign, uncomfortable feeling stirring in you at the sight. Up until a few months ago, you would have joined in with the rest of the crew, teasing your popular Captain but since then you’d fallen for him and started a relationship with Shanks which some of the crew still weren’t completely aware of. Jealousy wasn’t something you’d ever really felt before seeing as your previous relationship were flings at best and you and your partner knew as much. What you had with Shanks however felt different and because of the fact neither of you had made it public or put a label on what was going on between you both, it made the feeling even more uneasy at the sight in front of you. 

You walked with Lucky Roux to Shanks’ table just as he finished his story. At your approach Shanks’ eyes lit up and he grinned at you from behind his mug. “You two have some catching up to do.” He joked, while Lucky grinned and reached for the filled mug of ale offered to him, you nodded slightly and took your own with less enthusiasm as you normally would. Immediately Shanks’ suspicions were heightened, while his carefree smile remained the look in his eyes sharpened as he observed you drink steadily. A couple of the newer members of the crew rose from their seats to let you and Lucky sit at Shanks’ table out of respect to you both. Lucky took his seat without hesitation whereas you smiled and shook your head gently. Instead you drained your mug and turned to go to the bar for a refill. Shanks’ eyebrow quirked slightly and his fingers drummed against his mug while he watched you in concern. “Were there any issues Lucky?”

“Not a one, Cap’n. Ship got restocked without problem and the locals reported no trouble since our last visit here. Everyone’s happy.” Lucky reported with his usual smile before returning to his own conversation with Hongo. Shanks glanced at you from across the room again, watching as even with your new drink, you remained by the bar, sipping it slowly and staring at nothing. Shanks finished off his drink and moved to stand only for one of the women fawning over him put a hand on his shoulder, insisting they’d go and get the drink for him only for the others to pipe up too, leading them to bicker over who would get him a refill. “No, no, I’ll go myself, it’s fine. You all stay and Ben here will tell you of my best battle, won’t you Ben?”

At the promise of another story, Shanks was able to get away from the table without being followed by his admirers and he let out a sigh when he was out from the crowded presences and now standing beside you, fully noticing the difference he felt in the comparison of the two feelings. While he waited for the bartender to see to him, he glanced at you and saw your far-off look. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m staying close to the alcohol so I can catch up like you ordered me to Captain.” Your answer was even and detached, your gaze remaining on nothing in particular on the opposite wall. 

“You’ve got me worried, love.” At that pet-name you finally looked at Shanks. Unable to help yourself you glanced behind him to the table filled with people still waiting for him to return before returning your stare to his face. 

“It wasn’t my intention to worry you or ruin your fun. I was keeping my distance specifically to avoid that.” You explained and Shanks finally realised what the problem was. You were jealous, over them? People who paled in comparison to you in every way. 

“My fun’s only ruined if you’re not with me.” Shanks murmured closing the small space between you both. He saw the hesitancy in your eyes and he gave you a reassuring smile before securing his arm around your waist and kissing you deeply, the action dispelling the unease you’d been feeling instantly. Over the sound of the crew whistling and shouts of others to pay up because of a bet neither you or Shanks were aware of you broke apart from the kiss and smile when he lay his head against yours. “Should’ve done this a long time ago when I finally got you.” 

MARCO

You knew what you were getting into when you and Marco gave into your attraction for each other. You knew that his time would be taken up mostly with caring for Pops on a daily basis and the other members of the crew when they were sick or injured. Any free time he would have was precious and you were never possessive of that. When he was able to spend time with you he did and your patience was alway appreciated from him. Sometimes when he’s overloaded with work you stop by to offer him some food and sit in his office for an hour or so, just to enjoy each other’s presence. You don’t need to talk, just being there is enough for you both. 

On this occasion you hadn’t seen Marco because of a nasty flu making its way through some of the crew and after a few days without seeing his face, you’d grown to miss him. So you made your way to the medical office and your step faltered when you heard the familiar sound of his laughter coming from inside. Lightly you knocked on the door once and entered the room to see one of the nurses standing beside Marco as he sat at his desk. You smiled warmly when Marco seemed happy to see you but your smile fell when you spotted the empty plate on his desk. “Ah, you’ve already eaten.”

“Of course he has.” The nurse giggled, smiling at Marco playfully. “Though he would have forgotten if it wasn’t for me. As amazing as he is as a Doctor, he’s hopeless at looking after himself.”

“He’s lucky you’re here to look after for him then.” You said, unable to sound as cheerful as the nurse. Clearing your throat you looked down at the small plate of food you’d brought for your boyfriend. You knew nothing was going on between him or any of the nurses that worked closely alongside him but you still felt the jealousy growing in your chest. This was a small thing you could do for Marco and you felt childish for feeling stung that he didn’t need you. You didn’t like the feeling and needed to distance yourself from the cause. “I’m glad you’ve eaten so I’ll let you get back to your work. Don’t let him overwork himself, okay?” You forced the joke out with a tight smile while the nurse smiled brightly and nodded in joy that you were trusting her. Marco watched silently as you turned and left him. Even with his tiredness, he could still see something was wrong with you. 

As soon as he completed the current task on his desk, Marco stood and stretched. After working without resting for these days, he knew no-one would begrudge him a break away from his office. Stretching out he walked through the corridors until he was walking into the room he shared with you. You looked up in surprise from your lounged spot on the sofa. Before you could react, Marco was crawling onto the sofa and laying ontop of you, his head resting against your chest as his arms encircled you, holding you close. “Marco, what are you-”

“You left far too quickly.” Marco groaned out, now that he was lying down he realised just how uncomfortable sitting at his desk was. “I missed you, sorry I was cooped up in my office all this time.”

“You’re don’t need to apologise for that Marco.”

“I feel like I do need to say sorry for something though.” he admitted, lifting his head slightly to look at you with concern. “You didn’t seem yourself when you stopped by.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You promised, gently running your fingers through his hair. Under his patient stare you sighed and continued. “I’m not a doctor like you or trained in anything medical. For the most part I’m fine with that because I’m good in other ways but it’s just when you are overworking yourself there’s not much I can do to help you. One of those things is taking care of you and making sure you’re eating. It’s silly but it made me jealous to see someone else doing that for you.”

“It’s not silly at all. We can’t help our emotions but I’m glad you were able to talk to me about it.” Marco smiled, taking your hand to press a loving kiss against your wrist. “Never feel like you’re replaceable. I’m only ever able to rest like this because of your influence over me. No one looks after me the way you can and you’re the only one I want.”

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[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: angst, assumed cheating

~~~~

“I wish you could come with me.” You looked over at your boyfriend next to you by the kitchen counter. He didn’t meet your gaze, face contoured in concentration as he formed the ground beef into patties.

“I know baby.” You agreed, reaching for a bowl to put the cut cucumber in. Max grabbed it for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with? Bahrain is nice.” He softly bumped his arm against yours, offering a playful smile. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would love to, you know that. But I have my thesis to write.”

“You can do that on the road.” He tried, but you both knew the answer. This conversation had been on repeat for the last few months and every time it ended with Max, somewhat disappointed, agreeing that it would be best if you stayed home. You weren’t surprised he tried one last time tonight.

“Even if I could Maxie, I still have to work and I can’t do that from Bahrain.” Even before he spoke up you knew what his next argument would be and if anything got under your skin, it was this.

“You don’t need to work though. You have me.” The way he said it so casually, like he always did, had your stomach twisting. You hated that he saw it like that, and no matter how many times you talked about it Max didn’t seem to understand your point of view. You clenched your jaw, physically biting your tongue not to say anything back. Instead you concentrated back on the work on the cutting board, brows slightly furrowed. Things were quiet for a few moments, Max being busy with the meat in the frying pan, and you had almost blocked him out completely, deep in your own thoughts, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. Your back was softly pulled flush against his chest and a second later he nudged the side of your head with his nose.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing a few kisses against your cheek and down your shoulder. “Of course you have things to do here, I get that. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help but smile, the frown melting of your face in a second. How could you ever stay annoyed at him when he was this cuddly and cute? You placed the knife down, turning around in his rather tight grip to face him. Max looked down at you, tilting his head slightly as to ask if he was forgiven. You just reached up to grab his cheeks, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said when the two of you finally pulled apart. “But it’s just two weeks, right?”

“Hmm.” Max nodded, fingers pressing into the skin just above your hips. “Then I’ll come straight back home and I won’t leave your side for at least a few days.” You laughed at that, snaking your arms around his torso and leaning your head against his chest. Max pulled you even closer, a deep breath leaving his lips. You were going to miss him, but two weeks went fast and you told yourself that he’d be back, preferably with two wins under his belt, before you knew it.

~

The first race had been amazing. You had watched from home with some of your friends, absolutely ecstatic and somewhat tipsy as your boyfriend passed the finish line in first place what felt like hours ahead of the rest. When he called you after the win you had literally screamed into the phone how proud you were of him and hearing him laugh loudly on the other end had you smiling the whole night.

That was four days ago. You had been busy, work was more chaotic than normal and your limited freetime was spent in the library working on your thesis. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had missed a few of Maxs phone calls and when you’d called him back he had been busy instead. You texted a lot, but it had been a few days since you last heard his voice and you were starting to miss it.

Getting back late from the library, not at all happy with the work you had done, all you wanted to do was to call Max and have him tell you about his day. You knew he had been at the annual banquet in Jeddah last night, which he hated, and you were excited to hear all the gossip. You sunk down in the couch, making yourself comfortable as you searched up the results of the first practice round. You always wanted to know how things were going for Max before you spoke to him, partly to show him that you cared and partly because you wanted to know what mood he might be in. You smiled to yourself, pleased, when you saw him at the top of the rankings. Absentminded you begun to scroll down among the tweets, rolling your eyes at the people hating on Max and grinning proudly at all the people joking about how this season would just be win after win after win for him. Suddenly you stopped, a tweet written all in caps catching your eye.

MAX VERSTAPPEN LOOKING DAPPER WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE! DID HE LEAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND AT HOME?

You raised your eyebrows, not being able to stop yourself from clicking on the photos. Surely it was going to be something dumb, you were used to the rumors surrounding your boyfriend and you had simply learned to just tune them out. Scrolling through the pictures now, however, you could feel your stomach drop. It was blurry, but it was clearly Max. The photos were taken from far away but you saw him, dressed handsomely in a suit and bowtie, with his arms tightly wrapped around a tall blonde. Her back was turned against the camera so you couldn’t make out her face, but you didn’t recognize the body at all. The two of them seemed to be alone, standing outside what looked like the building where the banquet was held. In one picture Max was shown grabbing her cheeks, staring down at her. You squinted, as if that would help you distinguish his expression, but you couldn’t quite tell what was happening. You couldn’t deny that it sure looked like he was about to kiss her. Quickly locking your phone you dropped it in your lap, staring down at the black screen with wide eyes. That wasn’t just some rumor, something someone had claimed to see or made up. Those were real photos, photos of Max being way too close for comfort with someone who clearly wasn’t you. You knew you should calm down, take a step back until you could talk to him and let him explain. Surely there was an explanation that didn’t involve him actually cheating on you? Right? Before you had time to spiral further your phone lit up again, the picture of Max sleeping, drooling, in a cab you had as his contact photo illuminating your screen. Acting on reflex you picked it up, sliding your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Baby!” He seemed surprised that you answered but quickly regained himself. “Am I disturbing you? Are you at home?”

“I just got home.” You answered, frowning at the shortness of your own tone. You weren’t sure how to approach him, you weren’t even sure what to say. Were you mad? Sad?

“Good. Feels like we’ve just missed each other the past few days.” Max shuffled around on the other end and you assumed he was laying in bed. With a content sigh he spoke again and you could hear the smile on his face. “How are you my love?”

“I’m good.” You mumbled, clicking on the speaker icon and placing your phone down in your lap.

“How’s the thesis coming along? I assume you just came from the library?”

“Hmm, yeah I did. It’s fine.” Max obviously picked something up in your voice because he was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I hope you’re not spreading yourself too thin baby, you have to take a break sometimes.” His voice was full of concern and you don’t know if it was that or the pictures still haunting you but suddenly all you wanted was to be next to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Actually,” you began, deciding what to say as the words were coming out of your mouth. “I was thinking about maybe coming to you? I think I can make it to the race if I leave tomorrow and-“ you stopped as you heard Max laugh on the other end, stomach twisting at the sound you usually loved. That was not the reaction you wanted.

“You know I miss you but that’s crazy baby.” He chuckled. You could feel the pressure take form behind your eyes. “You have things to do and I’ll be home in less than a week.”

“Yeah but I want to see you now. I thought you’d want that too.” You hated that his reaction, a very reasonable reaction at that, left you feeling so hurt.

“Of course I want to see you, but you shouldn’t come all the way here when we both know-“

“I shouldn’t?” His choice of words felt like a punch in the stomach and you frowned down at the phone. Max took a second too long to respond so you spoke again. “Why shouldn’t I? You don’t want me there?”

“What’s all this coming from?” The smile was far gone from his voice and now he just sounded bewildered. “You’re the one who opted to stay home because you had work to do.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you’d cozy up with some other girl if I’m not there.”

You pressed your eyes shut, cringing at your own words the second they left your lips. You did not mean to put that out there like that. The line went quiet for a moment before Max broke the silence, voice as confused as it gets.

“What?”

You wanted to cry. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“Nothing Max. Don’t worry about it.” You snapped, hating yourself more every time you opened your mouth. You really needed this conversation to be over, preferably before you started to cry. “I’m actually really tired, I think I’m-“

“No no no, you don’t just get to throw something like that at me and then hang up. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You were rambling. “Just forget it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You heard Max say your name before you hung up, heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest.

[nofingjustaninchident]

⛧° sleepy nights - hoo boys

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, charles beckendorf x reader - hcs on how they’d sleep with you

warnings: luke and charlie are 19

a/n: SHE’S BAAAACKK!! i’m finally not sick anymore (very questionable, but i’m definitely better) so i’m back to writing! at least i hope so. you can send your requests, preferably of not so long stuff cause i already have 5 super long drafts lol

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

now playing… sweater weather - the neighborhood

Percy Jackson

i honestly believe that he’s an awesome cuddler.

like, i just know that he likes to be the big spoon and wrap his arms around your waist and never EVER let go.

he’d totally lay his head on your shoulder and drool on it.

he plants a lot of tiny little kisses in your neck before you fall asleep.

i like to believe that he snores

but not like super loud snores and they’re not even annoying

its just super cute

and you feel so safe

he’s not super ripped, but he still has abs

so just leaning against them, warm in the night is just so soothing

he sleeps in two positions only, cuddling with you or as a starfish, with legs and arms thrown all over you and the bed

his body is naturally warm

not an uncommon warm, just normal warm

so sleeping with him is always good

whenever you sleep with him, he doesn’t want to get up to school/college the next day

he’s just too comfy to want to let go of you

and, subconsciously, he likes to trace patterns all over the exposed skin of your stomach

overall, a great person to sleep with

Jason Grace

my personal favorite for, uh, unrelated reasons

totally not because he’s literally my dream man no no

but hear me out, you won’t regret it

he’s canonically tall and muscular right

so just imagine resting against his delicious muscular chest and abs-

sorry i trailed off

ANYWAYS

he’s also a cuddler

but he’s kind of stiff in the beginning

like he’s completely touch starved

so he doesn’t really know how to act in situations like this

but the more you’re together the more he feels comfortable to cuddle and squeeze you

he loves to just pull you as close to himself as he can and bury his nose on your hair

because you just smell to good to not do that

he’s also a sweet talker

he just LOVES to whisper cute words in your ear as you’re about to fall asleep

and the first time he told you he loved you was one of these times

you were almost falling asleep in his arms and he just whispered “i love you”

you couldn’t even understand what happened until the next morning

anyways

he is the best person to sleep with

he absolutely loves when you just curl up in a ball beside him while he’s reading

he gets all fuzzy inside

he’s literally melting

he just loves you too much

Leo Valdez

look, don’t get me wrong, i love leo

but i don’t think he’d be the best cuddler in the world

for the simple reason that i think so

if u don’t like it just sush

BUT he absolutely loves to sleep on top of you with his head in your chest

i just know it

this is like super Leo Valdez of him

and you can’t tell me he doesn’t purr when you caress his hair

cause OF COURSE he does that

he’s the best person to sleep with in winter and fall, cause he keeps you warm and happy

but in the summer… not as good, i’ll have to admit

like, he’s too hot

in both senses of the word

so you just get overheated

not that you’re really complaining tho

it’s worth it

oh, and he LOVES to whisper words in spanish in your ear before sleep

if you can’t speak spanish, he’ll say… not so innocent things

our latino king fr fr

and if you can speak spanish he’ll just say how much you smell good or how pretty you are or how much he loves you-

not a cuddler, but a very good person to sleep with anyways

Frank Zhang

he’s tall and muscular

what more can i ask for my personal pillow?

oh, being a lowkey GENTLEMAN with every living being he interacts with

ok maybe that was a little bit out of context

but whatever

back to sleeping with him

if you want a best human pillow, you won’t find it

especially cause charlie died so-

i’m deeply sorry for that. not really.

he loves loves LOVES when you lay on top of him

it’s his favorite position ever

and he also loves when he can hold you

but not literally cuddle

just you laying with him, curled up against his chest but with your face to him, y’know?

i don’t know if it makes much sense

anyways

he likes to braid your hair while you’re falling asleep for you to sleep better

hazel taught him and he absolutely loves to do it in you

in the beginning of the relationship, you usually went to sleep with a dog or a cat

he was too nervous, okay? leave him alone

well, he got over it, thanks to you obviously

but sometimes he still sleeps as a dog

especially if you ask him to do it

he’ll be like “sure, if you want if” but deep down he loves it

it’s just too sooting for him when you curl up against him as a dog and pet his fur

its one of his favorite ways to sleep with you

Luke Castellan

oh, luke

i’ll never admit the uncommonly enormous crush i have on you

he’s just too hot

also i have a thing for blondes (hey jason and annabeth and a lot of other peopleee)

well, enough of me, let’s talk about this walking piece of MEAT

hehehe

he love love loves to sleep cuddled up with you

like, it’s his favorite thing in the world

the only problem (if you consider it a problem. i personally don’t) it’s because he has to sleep holding at least one of your tits

he says it makes him sleep better

technically it does, because his hands are cold and your boobs are warm

but it’s mostly because he really likes ‘em

he’s not gonna tell you that, tho

he loves when you lay on top of him and lets him caress your hair

bros seriously whipped

he’d be damned if you told him you want to sleep alone

he’ll literally become a whiny baby until you surrender

and if you don’t, the next morning he’ll be so grumpy

but that’s obviously until you give him a kiss

if the kiss doesn’t fix, another thing will

cuddles, duh

dirty mind

if you like to wake up early for morning walks, he’ll wake up and watch you get ready

but most likely never join you

Charles Beckendorf

best human pillow EVER

only god knows how much envy i felt from silena for real

he loves cuddling ofc

but it’s not his favorite way of sleeping

he’d rather much more hold you against his chest, arms and legs interlocked

because in that way he can hug, admire and kiss you anytime he wants to

i don’t know if this position makes sense help-

he loves to caress your hair and kiss your head in the process

it’s soothing for him and he knows it’s soothing for you

whenever he comes back from bunker nine super exhausted he just lays down and you hop beside him

and it’s heaven in his eyes

sometimes when things go wrong in a project he's working on he goes straight to your cabin and just stares at you

biggest puppy eyes in the world by the way

he just stares in a way like "please let me sleep here"

and who are you to say no am i right

he LOVES to snuzzle his face in your neck and breath in your scent

he just loves the way you smell

it's just too good to be true

can't take my eyes off of you

sorry i love 10 things i hate about you too much

your smell is one of his favorite things in the whole world

he's just so in love is sickening to anyone who's watching

anyways, cutie pie

a/n pt2: i'm sorry if charlie is short, but im too annoyed right now. i had to rewrite this shit five times because TUMBLR COULDNT SAVE THE FUCKING DRAFT HOLY SHIT- anyways hope u liked

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 4

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N comes to after being attacked and formerly meets the inner circle. Cassian and Y/N finally begin training, and he shows her around what he calls the heart of the Night Court.

Content Warning: Nightmares, flashbacks to under the mountain, Fluff

Word Count: 4.1

Chapter 3 Masterlist

A/N I want to take this moment to say thank you for all the love and support on this story! I am so grateful for you all! It honestly makes my day with every like and comment and reblog that I see! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we finally get some good Cassian X Reader quality time!

The Naga approached the sound of them slithering close causing me to whimper. One gripped my bound arms tightly from behind me, its dry tongue sliding up the column of my neck. The other gripped my breast tightly eliciting a shriek from the back of my throat. “A delicious treat, brother. Just for us.”

I begged for Rhysand to help, prayed he would make it in time. As the creature in front of me gripped my face puckering my lips as he pressed his to my own. I thrashed against them as hard as I could, but they were stronger than me.

Rhysand’s voice came clear as day but instead of sending help it was just my name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Wake up, Y/N.” My eyes blinked open and violet eyes came into focus. Calloused hands grazed my damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was just a Nightmare, Angel.” I sat up as he released my face and moved toward the edge of the bed. I looked behind him to find the chair Cassian was sitting in the night before empty and I tried to dampen my disappointment that he had left sometime after I had fallen asleep. Rhys looked to me, “Shields up, Y/N.” I jolted him and worked on building that wall around my mind as the High Lord continued, “I sent Cassian off this morning to run some errands for me. He put up a fight about before he left though.” He gave me a smile.

There was a comfort knowing that he stayed with me, but other thoughts whirled in my brain I sighed and rubbed my face, “Rhys, what happens now? Also where are we?”

“You’re in my townhome, this is where I reside normally. You were staying in what we call the House of Wind.” Rhys’ smile fades, “As for what happens next, there are two options we can take due to the fact you’re still human. The first, would be that we can send you back to the human lands and you would be able to be with your sisters.” I bit my lip as he prattled on, “Or option two, you become a member of the Night Court as my human emissary.” He grips my hand, “In my opinion, not that you asked for it, I would hope you would like to pick option 2. I would pay you well and you would be able to see Feyre every month. Not to mention, I like having you around.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes held unspoken emotion. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.” A tear slid down his perfect cheek.

I squeeze his hand, and with my free on wipe the tear from his cheek, “She must have been really special, if just mentioning her has this reaction. One day when you’re ready I would love to hear more about her.” I pause, “Especially all the reasonings as to why she would love me.” He laughed a boisterous laugh, and I was happy to take his sadness away.

When he stopped, he asked, “One day huh? Does that mean you would like to stay?”

“Yes, I would like to stay.” My stomach rumbled.

“We can discuss logistics and details on your position after we have gotten food in your stomach.” He rose. “There are clothes in the closet, Mor has already claimed you for the afternoon to go shopping.”

I quirked a brow, “So you knew I would say I wanted to stay?”

“No.” He opened the door and gave a playful smirked, “I was, however, hopeful that you would want to. Get dressed and come down to the stairs I’ll introduce you to everyone, formally.” With that he closed the door. I took a moment to look out at the window and gasped at the beauty of the city I am staring at. The sunrise coated the city in various shades of pink and orange the sun glimmering on the river as soft waves flowed down stream.

I got out of bed and discarded the nightgown I was gifted and put on the Teal sundress that had sheer sleeves and flowed down to my knees. I placed my hair up in a simple bun and walked down the stairs. Laughter erupted and I followed the sound I found a dining room that has almost every seat filled all for one that was in between Mor and Azriel. There was a short female with short black hair and mesmerizing silver eyes that rolled her eyes at the laughter and her eyes met mine. “Well, well, well, appears someone is awake.”

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn on me and I rub the back of my neck, “Hi.” I whispered. Mor shot up and ran over to where I was and almost tackled as she wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you’re staying with us.”  Mor squeezed causing a squeak to come out of me.

“Mor, let her go you’re going to crush her.” The low timbre of Cassian caused me to meet his gaze and he gave me a smile and a playful wink as Mor released me mumbling the word asshole under her breath. She led me to the seat next to her and I gave Azriel a smile, he simply nodded his head.

“Okay as promised, formal introductions. You know Mor, obviously,” He points to Azriel, “This is Azriel, the Night Court’s Spymaster and our very own shadowsinger,” I looked to Azriel whose shadows swirled around him as if a part of him and he puffed his chest slightly a sense of pride of his High Lord’s words. “The tiny angry looking one over there is my Second in command, Amren.” She doesn’t look phased by how she’s introduced and raises her goblet to me and takes a sip. “Last but certainly not least, the General of the Night Courts armies, Cassian. Though I believe you two have been acquainted.” My head snaps at Rhys’ who gave us both a shit eating grin.

“Sorry, Princess, I may have told them about that night we met.” My eyes met the General’s hazel ones his face had a flush on them as he smiled.

I grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of me and took a bite, and gave him a smile, “That’s alright, General.” I took another bite as two puzzle pieces clicked together and I ask, “Are you still willing to train me?” I avert my gaze and pick at the pastry.

“Any reason why I wouldn’t want to?” He asked, the table has fallen to an uncomfortable silence awaiting my answer.

Flashes of last night whirl through my head, of how I couldn’t even push the Naga away from me. Before I’m able to catch it, a tear falls then another, and sobs unleash until I can’t stop them. I cover my face and let it wrack out of my system. I feel Mor’s hand rubbing my back and can feel a talon on my mental shields of Rhys trying to get me to let him in. Then there is the scraping of the chair, sound of large boots. Mor’s touch vanishes as my chair is gently pulled back. Large hands grip my wrist and give them a light tug as the sobs continue, as I meet Cassian’s face, there was no judgement or pity, if anything there was an underlying rage there. He grips my hands tightly as if to remind me that I’m safe and that nothing would harm me. I look at the table and everyone gazes hold the same sentiment.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Cassian softly ordered, I face him once more and his thumb is rubbing soothing circles and my heartrate spikes. “I promise, I will make sure that you will never feel powerless again. You were ambushed last night; you were wounded and left out to fend for yourself, no one here thinks that you are weak because of it.” He wiped the tears from my face. “Would you like to start today?”

I nodded my head, and he gave me a beautiful grin, “Wonderful, we can get you some training gear and you can meet me outside after we eat. Okay?” I nod again, and he squeezes my hands before letting them go and instantly missed the warmth they provided.  As he stands pushes a free strand of hair from face and tucks it behind my ear, “You know what happened last night wasn’t your fault right?”

I bit my lip, “Maybe if I wasn’t so confrontational with Tamlin.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Girl,” Amren spoke for the first time since I entered the room, and everyone stilled. I met her gaze it was as if her irises were swirling with silver liquid, “Tamlin, is a coward and fool. He feeds off feeling superior over the weak.” Her red lips formed a smirk, “You weren’t willing to bend to him and challenged him. He simply used the one thing he had on you. The simple fact that your human. Make no mistake that Tamlin is the worm here.”

I tilted my head at her, and let her words really sink in and I blurted out, “You’re Stunning.” Heat immediately racing up my cheeks. Amren’s eyes widened a fraction as the table filled with laughter at the immediate shift in mood.

Amren smiled and tipped her head to me, “Likewise, girl, I think you’ll fit right in.”

Breakfast went on, and Rhys shared what my duties at Emissary would be, and he provided me with some fighting leathers that hugged every curve of my body. I made my way outside to find that Cassian was stretching, in his usual leathers with those gems on across his body. With the mid-day sun, he looked like one of the old gods long forgotten. He was beautiful, and the way he moved as he practiced made him lethal. His wings twitched, and his spine went rigid. He turned in my direction, “Right on time.”

I walked toward him, feeling disoriented by the heavy boots Rhys had given me. “What are these gemstones? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled and I decided that I would never get tired of him smiling, his whole face lit up when he did the gesture showing genuine happiness there. “They’re called siphons they harness my power to make it easier to control. They are earned during this thing called the Blood Rite, an Illyrian tradition but I won’t bore you with the details about why we do it, or their backwards beliefs of them. Not today anyway.”

“Well, another time, I’ve never heard about Illyrians before. They are not talked about much in the history of the fae we’re taught back in the human lands.” I walk past him to where he was practicing, “I’m also a sucker for a good story.”

“Well, when I can steal you for more than an hour. You can ask me all the questions you would like.”

I crossed my arms, “Why would you have to steal me?”

Cassian quirked a brow, “You have met Mor, correct? She has not shut up about wanting to spend time with you.”

“Hmm. Well, I will need someone to show me around. Where are we exactly? As I know this is Rhys’ town home, but I’ve never seen a city as beautiful as this. Well, I’ve never really ventured far from our small cottage anyway.”

Cassian made a few strides toward me, “We’re in Velaris, the city of Starlight. I personally think it’s the heart of the Night Court.”

“I can’t wait to explore.” I was acutely aware of how close Cassian had gotten, leather and sandalwood infiltrating my nose. “So will you show me around?”

“Sure. Though you’ll break Mor’s heart.” Cassian joked and caused me to smile, “Alright, Archeron,” I turned to him and gone was the playful face is gone. Replaced with the serious gaze of a General. “Let’s get started.”

Cassian had me show him what Rhys had been teaching me and showed me some more stretches before he asked me how I would punch someone. I clenched my fist and Cassian immediately shook his head. “No, Princess, you hit someone like that you’re going to hurt yourself more than your opponent.” He came up and grabbed my hand. He opened my hand he began folding my hand where the tip of my fingers was tightly placed in the base of my palm. He then places my thumb over my index finger. “There, this will protect your fingers and give you the best chance of hurting someone instead of yourself.” He walks behind me and raises both fists and nudges my legs with his own to get me in the perfect stance my heart was racing at the mere touch and proximity of him. “Tomorrow we’ll go over exactly the best stance to throw a punch and keep your balance but standing like this,” He whispered in my ear and chills ran down my warm body. He moves my arm in a punching motion, his other hand on my waist twisting to move with the punch. He does it a few more times and after the fifth time he releases his grip and has me do those movements on my own. I could feel his eyes on me as I kept repeating the motion until he held up his hand. “Very good. I think we’ll call it for the day.”

I nodded and he walked over to hand me some water. “Thanks.” I sipped the water, and he drank some from his own cup. He grabbed my cup and placed it down with his. He pointed to the floor, “On your back, Princess.”

My face heated and I’m sure my cheeks were pink, “Why?”

Cassian smirked, “I’m going to help you stretch, its important to stretch the muscles so you’re not sore tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, “What were you thinking about?”

I huffed and followed his order to lay on my back. “I was thinking about nothing, grow up.”

Cassian knelt his hand rubbing my calf with a smirk, “I’m quite grown up, thank you. I’m over 500 years old.” My eyes widened at the fact as he bent my knee and pushed my leg toward my chest, the muscles stretched, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

“That feels divine.” I whisper and I hear a low chuckle as the General moved to the other leg. He met my eyes as he pushed back my leg, and I could not hold the moan this time. I covered my mouth as he placed my leg down and massaged my calves. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian looked like he wasn’t breathing his eyes holding something like yearning there but shook his head and waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s a natural reaction,” He pat my legs and rise to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it he lifts me up with ease and releases my hand. “Good job today, we’ll pick up tomorrow.”

Rhys walked outside and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Mor, sadly had to go do her job and has left for a few days. So, your shopping spree has been put on hold.” Rhys shrugged, “I could take you around, and give you a tour of the city if you would like.”

I looked to Cassian, “If you don’t mind Rhys, could your General take me?” Cassian smiled and draped an arm around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Cass.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian looked at Rhys, “Do you mind if I steal her?”

Rhys smirked, “Not at all. Have fun you two.”

The two of us parted ways to bathe and change. A midnight blue top and matching pants were prepped for me as I came out of the bath, and I placed it the top on used to the slight mid drift. I placed my hair fall in its natural curls and placed it on moon pin in my hair and slipped on a pair of silver slip on shoes. I walked down to the front door to find Cassian, wearing a casual shirt with a leather jacket and pants. His wings were relaxed and tucked close behind him and his hair was in a half up bun.

He looked up as he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, “Well you clean up nicely,” I teased elbowing him. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

 Cassian’s eyes lingered on my outfit and back up to my eyes. “I could say the same about you, Princess.” He opened the door, and the late afternoon breeze tickled my skin, “Ready to go?”

I nod, and he lays a hand on my back and guides me out of the front door. Once he shut the door behind me, we were off. Cassian and I walked the busy streets of Velaris. We went into various shops looking at clothes and different works of art. I stopped when we were at a vendor selling various paintings. My heart sank, Feyre had not painted in months, and I doubt after yesterday she’ll ever want to. I would do anything if it meant that she would want to paint again. If I ever see her. Calloused hands grazed my neck and brought me out of my thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

“I want Feyre to paint again,” I whispered, “She loved to paint after we came out of Under the mountain she just wouldn’t. Now with last night will I be the reason she never paints again?” I cross my arms and I walk past the paintings, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if that were the reason.”

Cassian gripped my elbow, “Y/N, Feyre has her own healing journey to take, her reasons, for doing or not doing something are her own, you don’t need to shoulder responsibility for someone else’s grief.”

I give him a small smile and give his hand a pat, “Thanks Cas, but my job was always to protect her, and I took pride in securing that small ounce of peace she would get when painting. I would sneak money just to make sure she had enough paint.” I kept walking Cassian meeting my stride his wing flared and wrapped slightly around me almost protectively. “I was like that for Nesta and Elain I always made sure anything they wanted books for Nesta or plants for Elaine, tensions were high a majority of the time, I just tried to keep the peace and made sure everyone was happy and safe.”

Cassian was quiet as we approached a bookstore, and I gripped his arm with an excited squeal, “Can we go in here?” Cassian nodded and opened the door for me, and the smell of books and a thin layer of dust fills my nose and i couldn't contain my smile. I walk up and down the aisle, looking at all the stories. Cassian was a silent yet steady presence behind me. There was a portion of the store that had various leather-bound notebooks.”  

“What about you?” I turned to Cassian my brows furrowed. “Feyre has painting, Nesta reading, and Elain had gardening. What did you like to do?”

I bit my lip and shrugged, “Protecting my sisters I guess.” I grazed the top on a journal, “I never really had the time to do anything, if I wasn’t chopping wood, or helping Feyre hunt, or trying to make money. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

Cassian frowned and guilt washed over me for taking his smile away, “If you did have the time what would you have liked to do.”

I lifted a Journal and flipped through the blank pages, “Don’t laugh.” I looked at him, “I would have loved to write. Even if I didn’t know how to write, I would have loved to tell stories. The kind of heroes and villains and romance things that Nesta would read to me when I was small.” I placed the journal down and shrugged. “Just a silly little dream.” I give him a smile one to hide the lingering sadness. “Enough about that, I’m hungry.” Cassian’s frown deepened clearly seeing my deflection.

“I’ll be out in a minute. Rhys ironically enough wanted me to see if they had a book in stock. “ I nodded my head and walked out of the store. I looked out at the river and quickly walked over and leaned against the railing to stare out at the sea. The sun is beginning to set and enjoy the scenery around me. Soft waves crashed amongst the bridge, and the scent of the water spray filled the air. It was peaceful and serene.

I was entranced by its beauty that I didn’t even hear Cassian approach, his hand on back caused me to jump and turn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”  He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for being a little jumpy. Did they have the book you needed?” I asked as he offered his arm for me to take, leading us to a little restaurant in an area he called earlier the rainbow.

Cassian shook his head, “No but I did find something else that piqued my interest.” He grabbed out of his pocket the leather-bound journal I was holding in the store and handed it to me, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Cassian-“

He interrupted me, “You may find that you have more free time here, you have worked hard to make sure your sisters were able to keep their hobbies. You should be able to explore something that interests you.” He gave you a smile “Plus I know there is one person for sure who would love to read whatever stories you come up with.”

I stopped, tears pooling in my eyes, “Cassian, I can’t repay you for this.”

Cassian also stopped, his hazel eyes warm and shining bright, “It’s a gift, Princess. Nothing to be repaid.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Cass.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re welcome, now let’s go get something to eat.” He pulled away and looped my arm with his once more and led us to dinner. At dinner he shared some stories of how he and Rhys met and how they met Azriel how they have been friends for centuries and in turn I told him of all the trouble Feyre and I used to get in before we lost our fortune and when it was over we fell into comfortable silence on the walk home.

Music played on the bridge, and it caused me to pause in my tracks. I gripped Cassian’s arms as my mind went back to late nights under the mountain.

Feyre had fallen asleep after sobbing, and I was still in the corner tears stained my face. The feeling of hopelessness taking over. I wish I had told Nesta and Elain how much I loved them before we left. I tucked my head into my knees and sobbed. Beautiful melody flooded my eardrums, something that held hope and happiness. Images flashed against in my mind of a beautiful orchestra on a bridge over river. The night sky was breathtaking as if they were swirling and dancing to the melody of the music. My eyes grew heavy as the melody hit the crescendo. I laid my head back and let the music sweep me into a peaceful slumber.

My breathing was labored, “Hey, hey, hey,” Cassian’s hand cupped my cheek, “what is it?”

“Rhys...he played this music in my head to help me sleep Under the Mountain.” Tears were streaming down my face clutching the journal Cassian bought me, “He was letting me know I wasn’t alone when I was convinced Feyre, and I weren’t coming out alive. He was showing me this band a piece of his home.”

Cassian eyes gleamed silver as well, “He’s annoyingly a good friend like that.” He looked over at the band as I chuckled, “Would you like to stay and listen for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered and he lowered his hand from cheek, but I reached out and laced my fingers with his. He tucked his wing around me to block the wind as we stood and listened to the music that kept me from breaking under the mountain.

Chapter 5

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen

[sim0nril3y]

I’m LITERALLY screaming at ghost with a praise kink !!!!!!! That was so fucking good I am foaming at the mouth!! Was that part of the 12 days of kinkmas thing? Also, side note, can we read all of these as civilian!reader? Or will the 12 days of kinkmas be outside that little au?

Also, if I may be so bold, could I request ghost with a breeding kink, perhaps? 🫣

Note: Firstly, thank you so much for sending this request, you have no idea how much I needed to write this down! As for your questions, anything that comes before the 14th of December is totally just for fun and part of my normal writing so these types of things aren't part of the 12 Days of Kinkmas. Also, the Kinkmas will continue to be part of the Civilian series but honestly you can read my fics in whatever way makes you happy! Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, teasing, breeding kink, P in v sex, lots of talk about pregnancy and knocking up, unprotected sex, canon-typical swearing.

There was no denying that Simon was in a strange mood. Where usually he rarely touched you in public now his arm was draped over your shoulder like some kind of accessory or his hand lingered on your lower back and even drifting down to cup your bum. He’d lean down and whisper into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Everything he seemed to do only lead to you feeling a little warm.

It was just unlike him. Simon was usually very reserved in public, sometimes even holding your hand was too much affection for him.

All day you wracked your brain trying to figure out what had changed or what had sparked this sudden alteration in Simon’s mentality. As instructed you were stood by the hob, slowly stirring a pot of whatever Simon had prepared. You had been so deep in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Simon approaching from behind, slinking up behind you, strong arms tying around your middle and sucking you back against his form.

Those skilful lips found your throat, humming as Simon pressed a couple tender kisses to the areas of skint that were exposed. “Si, what has gotten into you lately?” You giggle was breathless, wooden spoon long forgotten in hand as your head tilted back into his shoulder. “Fuck~”

Simon continued to kiss and suckle at your throat before muttering out coldly. “Y’gonna think it’s stupid…” Then resuming his attack on your throat. “You know…” Losing track of your words as his lips nipped at your earlobe playfully. “Nothing… nothing you could say… would ever be… stupid…” The words seemed to trail away pointlessly.

For a few moments Simon remained painfully quiet, his hands roaming around your mid area, rubbing and soothing his hands against it. “Fuckin’ hell…” Like always when frustrated or a loss for words Simon growled out the expletive. “Fine…” He muttered, keeping you firmly facing away from him so that he was able to try and form a sensible sentence. “Been havin’ this dream lately…” Simon let out a low huff. “Sound so fuckin’ stupid…”

“A dream?” You quizzed, pinch forming between your brows. “What kind of dream?” “A dream… it keeps coming back…” Simon smirked. “I don’t dream ever but this one… this one won’t get out of my fuckin’ head.” Those strong hands continued to stroke and caress your stomach before finally he allowed the truth to spill from his lips. “You were pregnant.” The hands on your stomach were so soft and soothing, like trying to manifest his dream in reality. “You were pregnant with my baby… and you looked so fuckin’ good…” The word rolled off his tongue like it was dripping in sin and you knew then you were going to need to change your panties.

A big grin found your face. “Is that right?” He growled in a moment, yanking you over to bend you over the kitchen table. “Simon, the dinner-” “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you up.” Simon growled, yanking down your sweats and underwear in a quick moment. “Need to get this dream out of my head, babe. Can you… can you let me do this… please…” There was almost pleading to his tone and it caused you to rub your thighs together as you leaned over the table, his hand pressed between your shoulders.

“You can do it.” You confirmed gently and in the moments that followed Simon was kicking your legs apart to exposing your sopping cunt. “Look at this…” His hand cupped your sex, watching you shudder on the table. “Looks like you like the sound of my dream too, love.” A couple fingers slipped into your cunt, spreading your walls wide around his thick fingers and making you whimper against the table. “Is that right, baby? You want me to fill you up? Want me to pump you full of cum?”

A tight couple whimpers came from your throat. “Please. Please. Please.” You whimpered lowly, shunting your hips back to practically ride his fingers as they spread you wide. “Please, need you… need you inside me…” It was as if that was all the encouragement that Simon needed, because in the next moment he was unbuckling his belt, taking his rock hard cock in hand, massaging and rolling back the uncut skin as he pressing himself against your tight open and letting out a low groan as he sank inside, feeding you inch after inch until he reached the hilt, hips firmly pressed against your rear. “Good girl… Good fuckin’ girl takin’ every fuckin’ inch of me like I taught you.”

After allowing you a couple moments to finally adjust to his immense size Simon drew back and began to fuck into you, hard and fast, one hand braced on your shoulder whilst the other cupped under your knee to lift onto the table. “Feel… so fuckin’ good…” He growled out, teeth grit, muscles strained, wound so tight you wondered if he might snap, or if this was maybe him snapping. “Gonna look… so good filled up with me… know you’re gonna look so good, baby.”

“Simon-” “I know, baby. I know.” His hips shunted faster and shallower, hardly removing his cock halfway before shoving it back inside of you. “Fuckin’… tight cunt…” He cried out lowly. “Can’t wait… can’t wait to see you dripping… dripping with me…” Simon let out a low groan. “I’m gonna… gonna keep pumping you full… full until you’re bursting.”

The kitchen was filled with wet, slapping sounds. The sound of Simon fucking into you with so much love and adoration. The promises of a future. The prospect of having a full life together. It was enough to make your walls begin to squeeze and tighten, that and the feeling of your clit rubbing awkwardly against the table with each brutal thrust from Simon’s strong hips into your own, pistoning his thick cock relentlessly.

“There. There. There.” Your voice was begging and then following by a couple moans and squeaks as your cunt spasmed and squeezed around him. “There it is…” Simon hissed. “There it is, baby. Fuck, feel so fuckin’ good…” He growled, tilting his head back. “Tell me… Please… Tell me you want it… B-beg for it…” His hips snapped erratically, trying to stave of his own end even as your cunt milked and tried to force it from him.

“Simon~” You squeaked. “Simon… Simon, please… I need… I need your cum… I need you to fill me up… I need you to knock me up…” The words flowed so easily, unsure if you even believe them or wanted it to come true, but it seemed to be enough to throw him wildly over the edge, growling, huffing, snapping his hips aggressively and finally pumping you to the brim with his cum. It was a feeling unmatched, the warmth spreading throughout your walls leaving you humming lowly from the table. “Thank you…” Simon whispered into the air, leaning over your frame to press a couple kisses to your shoulder. “Thank you, babe.”

The two of you stood there, panting and slowly coming down from your highs, the kitchen table completely disgraced from your actions, his cum seeping out from your cunt and around his cock to seep onto the wood, the dinner completely forgotten about and burnt beyond recognition by now and the two of you left with a lot to think about.

Masterlist | Ask | 05-12-2023

[spnexploration]

Comments

Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.

This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.

Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Which one’s the father?” The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, it’s alright love, I know the real father’s probably suffering somewhere alone while you’re off gallivanting with your workmates. I’m surprised he lets you out, really.”

The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.

Fuck that guy. I’m not pregnant and I’m not screwing either of the Winchesters.

I heard Dean’s FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.

---

📱 Where are you? We’re going to the next witness’s house

A text came in from Dean. I read it but didn’t reply.

📱 You ok?

I sighed. Finally, he asks.

📱 Fine. I’ll catch up with you later

I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.

I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasn’t happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that I’d tried multiple times to lose.

I walked.

---

I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasn’t that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just  that I’d gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. I’d tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow I’d ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.

And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasn’t.

 Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.

Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.

Fuck them.

---

“You know there’s still a monster on the loose?” Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess it’d been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.

“You struggling without me?” I didn’t think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.

“How you going to fight one off like this?” he gestured to me.

“You think a few drinks are why I’m fat?” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not calling you fat, I’m calling you drunk.”

“Right,” I said with an eyeroll.

“Come on, get in the car,” he said, trying to tug my arm.

“Fuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. There’s nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.”

He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.

I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You can’t escape the bloody Winchesters.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes.

“I’m fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?”

“I meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.”

“Surprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.”

“Didn’t you hear Dean?”

“How could I hear Dean when he wasn’t saying anything?”

“No, he laid right into the guy.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.”

“Yeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didn’t shut up about you.”

I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.

Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.

“Thanks, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.”

“I don’t remember electing you.”

“Jesus, you’re even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.”

“I’m not moping!”

“The guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you can’t just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.”

I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Dean’s face. Then I marched out the door.

The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.

---

Sam caught my arm as I got outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I walked myself here, I can walk myself home!”

“I’m pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.”

I let him tug me to the Impala. He must’ve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.

“He’s just worried about you,” he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. “Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

“That does not give him a free pass to behave like that.”

---

Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. “Morning, sunshine. Need some relief?”

I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.

“What time is it?”

 “Time to work the case.”

I groaned, “Can’t you do it without me?”

“No, come on, back on the horse.”

“It’s not the horse that’s the problem, it’s the dog that bit me.”

“I did tell you to drink water,” he said smugly.

“Fuck off!” I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.

I groaned and got off the couch I’d been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.

Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.

“He’s gone for coffee, thought you could use some.”

“Thanks.”

“I, uh,” Dean continued, more hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”

I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.

“I was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didn’t actually talk to you, and I,” he paused, biting his lip, “I shouldn’t do that.”

“Nice to see I’m just a problem,” I replied sarcastically. I wasn’t sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.

He stood up and came over to me. “You’re not a problem,” he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. “And I am sorry that asshat upset you.”

“I didn’t get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.

“It’s a shitty thing he did anyway. You’re beautiful.”

I laughed mirthlessly.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t put yourself down all the time.”

“Dean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well, they’re all thin at least.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“The women you sleep with, the women you hit on.”

“I can think of many women I’ve hit on who aren’t ‘thin’, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Suuuure,” I said with an eye roll.

“But I haven’t hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.”

“Let me guess, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.”

“My point exactly. It’s ok Dean, you don’t have to ma-” Dean’s fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel it.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.

“And I’m sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.”

His face came even closer, watching my reactions.

“You’re my weak spot,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not.” I put my hands on his chest, “Dean, this isn’t funny, don’t tease me.”

He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. “Sweetheart, I’m putting my heart on the line here, I’m not teasing.”

My hands slackened.

He edged a tiny bit forward.

His tongue darted out and back in. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

Was this even real?

How was this happening?

His hand came up to cup my cheek.

I leant forward.

The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the  exploration of his tongue and mine.

A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.

“I’m happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.”

.

.

.

Dean Winchester taglist

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural taglist

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

[upsidedownwithsteve]

PART OF THE ‘SEQUELS’ REQUESTS. READ SPOILED HERE

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

“Babe, m’tired.”

Steve’s voice was soft despite his rejection, but you still pouted. Your boyfriend was on his back beside you, enticing in just his black boxers, the band taught against his lower stomach, hips jutting from the elastic.

Your hands were greedy, roaming, less tired than Steve ‘cause you’d spent your day with Robin at the park instead of at work like the boy had. You’d missed him more than you wanted to admit, peppering him with kisses and attention between cooking dinner and eating it, hands sliding up his shirt as the movie played after. Steve had hummed at your touch, ran his fingers through your hair, nosed at your cheek and revelled in the affection.

But he had dozed off during the last half hour of the movie, sighed and smiled sleepily when you woke him with soft whispers and he clung to your hand as you led him up to bed. Steve had stripped off in the low light, tanned skin all golden, eyes dark and half lidded, day old stubble along his jaw.

It wasn’t fair, really.

You couldn’t be blamed for leaning over him for a kiss when he slipped into bed beside you, lips lingering, chest pressed to his, all bare skin and thin sleep shirt. Steve was happy to give you one, smile curling around the edges of it, all leftover cologne and mint toothpaste.

But then you’d dragged your hand from his jaw and down his neck, nails scraping over his shoulder and over his chest, following the trail of fine hair downdowndown—

“Baby,” Steve whispered. You locked eyes with him, lips downturned. “Y’can have all my attention in the morning, yeah?”

Normally, you would’ve smiled and said okay, told your boyfriend goodnight and curled against him. But you’d been wet and wanting since Steve had come to yours, stretching tall in the kitchen as you cooked, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you into him. His innocent touches had only left you more desperate, his mouth on your jaw, sweet nothings in your ear as he told you about his day, and asked you about your own.

And then, as you dropped your fingers a little lower, brushing over cotton, you felt his cock kick up in interest, half hard and waiting. You pouted down at him, saw the amusement shining in his eyes as he gazed back, trying to look stern.

“Baby.” It was supposed to be a warning.

“Handsome,” you said in response, voice soft and low, all tease and flirt. It made him swallow hard, jaw tensing as you hand crept over the thick length of him, fingers curling around what you wanted most. “I’ll do all the work. Promise.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and it made you grin, face pushed to his neck to hide it. His hands finally made their way out from where they’d been tucked behind his pillow and they pulled at your waist, bringing you closer against him. It took everything you had in you to not rock yourself against his hip, cunt covered in barely there sleep shorts. They were soaked.

“My pillow princess wants to actually do some work?” Steve cooed, fingers trailing down your thigh. “Are we in an alternate dimension?”

You shoved at him, weak and joking, deciding to throw a leg over him instead of arguing. It was nice to see his eyes darken at that, lips parting as his hands came to rest on your thighs, wide and warm and possessive as he held you there. You rolled your hips slowly, dragging yourself over his cock, smiling when you felt it harden more under your shorts, kicking up against your cunt.

“Please, Steve,” you tried again, a soft whisper that made Steve want to give in entirely. “Want you so bad.”

“You’re so spoiled.”

You grinned. You knew what that meant. You’d won.

“Huh, baby?” Steve cooed, guiding you over him with a strong grip, controlling how fast you could grind on him. “Just my spoiled girl, aren’t you? Always gettin’ what you want.”

You made an impatient noise, hands pressed to Steve’s chest to keep yourself propped up for him. “Just want you. Always want you.”

Steve’s breath hitched at that, eyes fluttering before he nodded at you, coaxing you off him just a little so he could pull his cock out of his boxers, smirking when you whined at the sight. It stood proud, needy and flushed, catching at the hem of your shorts and sliding against your thigh.

You were too eager with it, fingers dragging your pyjama bottoms aside for an easy entry but Steve tsked, shaking his head. “Take ‘em off, baby, c’mon.”

So you scrambled at your hips, pushing them down before you caught them on each ankle and kicked them off the bed. Steve snuck a hand up your shirt - his shirt - grabbing at your hips and bringing you over him again, the head of his dick pushing at the seam of your folds, catching at your clit. You were already panting, waiting on it, writing on permission.

“Use me,” Steve choked out, voice already ruined. “Spoiled girl, yeah? Take what you want then, baby.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice.

You loved the way Steve’s eyes slammed shut as you took him, his cock stretching you out slowly, a white hot burn that was eased with how ridiculously wet you were, the dirty noises barely covered by the way you both moaned. He grunted, head thrown back into the pillows, neck bared for you to kiss and lick at as you took him to the hilt.

“Good girl,” he breathed out, “so fuckin’ good, takin’ all of me, Christ.”

You keened, thighs pressed to Steve’s sides, panting at how full you felt, how close you already were. And then Steve was coming to life under you, impatient and too turned on to wait, hands trying to lift your hips off of him, wanting to slam you back down again.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, catching his wrists in your hands. You pinned them to the bed, trapping them by his head on the pillow. “You said I could use you.”

Steve cursed something filthy, nostrils flaring and mouth falling open at your words. His cock twitched inside of you, making you clench down in return and you were positive Steve was already as close as you felt. You waited, needing him to agree.

He nodded, eager, desperate. “Shit, yeah babe. Yeah, yeah baby. Fuck, you can use me. Use me all you want.”

…..

[flem17ng]

can i request a jessie fleming x reader fic? where someone (u can pick who) is getting closer to jessie (like physically and emotionally closer) and reader gets jealous. all the tension leads to a big fight where jessie ends up reassuring reader that she loves them and all that (r and jess are in an est. relationship). and (only if ur comfortable writing it!) smut ensues

Thanks so much for this request anon! I’m always having jessie fleming brain rot so this was an enjoyable write.

pairing: Jessie fleming x reader

warnings: slightly suggestive i guess

word count: 1.35k

summary: reader catches jessie flirting with a fan after a big chelsea win. (established relationship)

The game was supposed to be the best night of your life. The crowd was cheering, the stands were a sea of blue and you had just scored a fantastic header from a corner that your beautiful girlfriend had taken. Needless to say: you were supposed to be happy! 

The crowed erupted as the ball hit the back of the net and for a moment everything was still. The players stopped, you stopped, the goalie looked up in disbelief. You had scored a goal in the final few minutes, putting chelsea in the lead. 

When reality set in you were swarmed by the team: Sam slapped you in the back while Millie cheered into your ear and pushed you towards the crowd to celebrate the inevitable win. 

It was then that you saw her: your wonderful Jessie, smiling and waving to a fan in the other side of the barricade. The girl (maybe 20) was wrapped in a fleming jersey with a sign over your head that read “marry me number 17!”.

You felt your throat tighten for a moment. Yes this was pretty normal: being in the public eye you often had thirsting fans chasing you (jessie probably more so than most).  And yet something about the way the girl winked at jessie made your stomach churn. 

Before you could say anything, the game was resuming. No time to worry about some little interaction. You were being jealous, that’s all. 

***

The game ended soon after. A whirlwind of cheers ushered you through the tunnel and into the change room where bottles of champagne waited for you. 

“y/n! that goal was amazing babe! I’m sorry i didn’t come to celebrate with you!” Jessie ran towards you, her shirt halfway off and a big grin on her adorable face. Usually this would be when you grabbed her rosy cheeks and kissed her, but your stomach was still churning so instead you gave her a quick hug and a nod before moving to get changed. 

The team was going to be moving onto a pub after everyone showered so it wasn’t long before the dressing room began emptying out. As the room got quieter you could hear a conversation Jessie and Lauren were having in the corner. 

“who was that eh jessie?”

“mmh? oh the girl! I don’t know, just a fan probably”

“bit of a looker though”

Jessie hummed but didn’t respond. You supposed that should have made you feel better but the fact Lauren had noticed the interaction at all made you a little uncomfortable. You and Jessie had been dating for almost a year now but had decided it was best not to tell people at work. You were both private people after all, it made sense to keep things quiet. 

It didn’t make it any easier when people tried to hit of her though. 

“hey jessie I recon i’ll walk to the pub” you called out at you gathered your things and pulled your jacket on. 

“hey are you sure? I’ll give you a lift if you want” Jessie looked at you curiously, her big brown eyes piercing into you. 

“yeah i’m sure. I want to cool my muscles down a bit” you shot her a weak smile before walking out of the room. The truth was you felt like the jealousy was eating you alive (and not in a nice way). 

You had been ok with keeping things private at first, but now the thought of other people, other women desiring Jessie, wanting her… it filled you with anger. She was yours. And you were hers. 

***

The pub was full when you arrived: Not only with the team but with family members, admin people, managers and coaches. The music was thumping loud enough to make the walls shake. 

You needed a drink. 

You pushed so to the front of the bar, attempting to get the attention of one of the bartenders when someone caught your eye. 

Leaning against the bar a few metres away was that girl, the fan that winked at Jessie. It look you a moment to realise the girl was pushed up against someone: her hands were resting against the bar on both sides of some girl. As you watched you realised it was Jessie. Your wonderful, perfect girlfriend was pushed up against some dumb blonde fan girl. 

Jessie must have said something funny (of course she did) and the girl reached forwards, placing a hand on jessie’s cheek, using the opportunity to get infinitely closer. 

The churning in your stomach had become a full scale tidal surge. You needed air, you needed to go home, you needed that woman to get off your girlfriend. 

What could you have done? no one else knew she was yours. 

Just as you turned to leave, Jessie looked around, locking eyes with you for a second before you were lost in the crowd. 

you couldn’t stand there, you had to leave. 

***

“Y/n! Y/n please wait up!” you could hear her yelling for you was you walked up the street but you couldn’t, wouldn’t stop. 

“please Y/n. that wasn’t what it looked like!”

You spun round, cheeks red, temper rising. 

“really Jessie.  because to me it looked like you were having a nice time getting felt up by some groupie.” you yelled, causing jessie to stop abruptly. 

“Babe-“

“Don’t babe me Fleming. I saw that girl in the crowd. That’s why you didn’t celebrate with me. Because you were too busy eye fucking some dumb blonde?”

“Don’t be crass y/n”

“Don’t be crass! Jesus, Fleming! You think I like to watch you getting all touchy with those girls? Do you think I enjoy that?”

you walked back a few steps only for Jessie to walk even closer. 

“Don’t ben ridiculous…” she breathed. 

“Jessie stop. You’re being mean.”

You started to turn around before remembering you would end up at your shared apartment soon enough. 

“y/n look at me. please.” Jessie’s voice sounded needy, desperate. Maybe that’s why you turned. Suddenly she was a whole lot closer than she had been before. 

“Y/n that girl… she is nothing to me. She cornered me at the bar while I was waiting for you, she kept… touching me. I felt gross but I- I didn’t know what to do!” Jessie’s eyes looked wet now as she talked. 

“on the pitch when I went to take my corner she yelled… well she yelled something pretty fucking gross if i’m being honest. the only reason i gave her the time of day was because I was so upset.” Jessie sighed and looked down. She fiddled with her ring as she spoke. 

You covered her hand with hers suddenly feeling the need to be nearer to her. 

“Y/n I love you. I mean, I am in love with you. I think I have been for years now. Even before we went out I loved you.”

you looked at her, taken aback

“Jessie?”

“please I need you to know this. No one compares to you. No one. Don’t you ever feel second best because you are always first in my heart.” It was your turn to tear up now. Jessie wasn’t always the best with words, this was… a first to say the least. 

“Jessie I want to tell people about us. I want to be your everything. I want there to be no room for doubt in anyone’s mind that i’m yours. Jessie please I just… I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with you and I want the whole world to know about it.”

Jessie grinned, her cheeks going red in the dim light. “darling, there is nothing i want more.”

she reached up and held your face, bringing you in for a deep kiss. You grabbed her waist, pushing her gently up against the building beside you and deepening the kiss until you were both panting. 

Slowly you dipped your head and kissed her neck, listening to her sharp breath as you went. 

“don’t ever talk to that girl again. understand”

Jessie looked down, mouth open and breathless. 

“take me home Y/n”

[specialagentlokitty]

Arthur(Merlin) x reader - in the snow

Hi! If you still write for BBC Merlin would you be able to write an Arthur x Merlin sister Reader? With the dialogue “Can you use magic?” “I feel unsafe answering that.” (from your 2024 prompt list). Thank you if you do write it! <3 - Anon💜

A/N: I realised I had spelled Gaius wrong after finishing this, but I’m really lazy and don’t wanna correct it 😂😭

You had no real interest in following your brothers footsteps to work for the royal family, you didn’t want to work for anybody else.

You were happy living on your own, away from the world with your house and your dog, your horse, your flowers.

You loved the way you lived.

And yes, every so often the knights would come to pick up your money you had to pay for your land, but since you grew your own food and sold your crafts in towns and villages it didn’t matter all that much to you.

Today was the day that they came to collect your payment, so you made sure to stay home.

Kneeling down in your garden, you were working on your flowers, carefully tidying them up and trimming them down.

You heard a bark, and you looked up.

“Rufus?”

Standing up, you brushed your hands on the cloth and looked to the dirt path where a few horses were coming down.

You grinned brightly when you saw a familiar face.

“Merlin!”

You quickly set everything down and made your way over, the moment your brother got down from his horse your crushed him into a hug.

“Hi!” You beamed.

Merlin laughed quietly, hugging you back.

“Hey, this place looks amazing.”

You pulled away, grinning proudly at him.

“I take pride in my work.”

You turned around to the knights and the prince that was with him, offering him a bow.

It was swift, elegant, you held a hand behind your back and one over your stomach as you leant down, lowering your head.

“Sire, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), I do hope my brother doesn’t give you too much trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

You stood up, gesturing to the home.

“Rufus is no harm, I’m sure Sir Lancelot knows that.”

The knight smiled softly at you.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, I’ve got that tea you asked me for, would you like me to make you some?”

“Yes please, honestly you could open a tea shop because you make the best tea.”

You laughed a little bit, leading them all inside.

Only those three came inside, the other knights waited outside for them.

You sat them at a table, bringing over some bread you had made, and you made them all some tea, setting their cups down in front of them.

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll be right back.”

You went into your room, bringing up a floorboard to gather the money you owed before returning and handing it over.

Then you turned to Arthur.

“May I ask what brings you by sire? Normally this is not a matter for a Prince.”

“Merlin had been begging me for weeks to come, i guess it was curiosity to finally meet his sister. You’ve done wonderful things with this land. It was rundown the last I saw.”

“Thank you, the home itself was in good shape, it was a simple matter of getting some men from the village nearby to help clear it then set everything else up.”

Arthur nodded his head.

“How is it going? Have you been selling those crafts?” Merlin asked.

“Oh yes! People love them! They’re very helpful as well, especially for the farmers and the bakers, plant based baskets are easier to replace rather wood, and harder to break.”

Merlin nodded his head.

“You make things out of plants?”

“Yes sire, it is easier to get ahold of around here, they’re easier to work with as well. Especially Ivy. It is easy to manipulate the way it grows, and you can cut some away with the rest coming back.”

That was what caught his attention first, how compared to Merlin you were calmer, you were respectful to everybody even though you didn’t know them, and your craft.

Then there was your house, minimum decorations, just basic things you would need.

But outside was covered in flowers of all colours, the great wolfhound you rescued wondering in and out, and the horse outside just happily grazing in her paddock.

Arthur found himself coming back when he could, pretending to buy things that they needed in Camelot.

It was an excuse to see you, and he could try get there at least once a week since it was only a few hours there and back.

Arthur had to admit he was concerned when it drew to winter, because winter was harsh, and he couldn’t see how you would be able to survive there during the brutal winter.

“She’ll be fine, she always is. She knows how to get survive.” Merlin said.

“Merlin we are looking at the worst winter we’ve seen in years. It’s not even winter and we’re already getting snow. Your sister will be isolated out there for months if this carried on.”

Merlin paused what he was doing for a moment before he carried on.

“She won’t come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“(Y/N), if you ask her to come she won’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because she likes her own space, she doesn’t like crowded places like this and wouldn’t be able to live here for that long, a week or so would be fine.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, he carried on reading the book that was sat on the table in front of him.

“She’s also coming next week, to visit Guis.”

Arthur snapped his head up.

“Really?”

Merlin smirked a little, lowering his head as he carried on working.

“Yes sire.”

Arthur threw the book at Merlin who just barely dodged it and he left the room.

You arrived a few days later, staying mostly with Guis or Merlin if you could.

Arthur finally managed to find you while he was heading back inside the castle, you were stood outside with Rufus catching snowballs you threw.

He made his way outside, standing next to you.

“It’s far too cold to be outside.”

You turned around, offering him a smile.

“It’s nothing I’m not sure to this time of year, I was actually thinking about taking a walk. Do you know any good trails?”

“There is one, it’s possibly the safest. I’ll accompany you if you don’t mind? If anything happens to you I won’t hear the end of it from Merlin.”

You laughed softly at him.

“Yes fine by me sire.”

“Right, come wait inside.”

You followed him, and waited in the hallway.

It took a short while for him to come back, and he held out a thicker more elegant cloak out for you.

“Wear this.”

“Sire I can’t, that’s much to rich for somebody like me.”

“(Y/N) put the cloak on, and call me Arthur.”

You didn’t want to disobey him, so you put it on and he led you outside.

You could see that a few people walked the trail, but not many, and you two held light conversation as you walked.

It was nice for him to not have to act so important, and you were talking to him just like a normal person, as if you two were from the same town or village.

You enjoyed stopping to look at simple things, animals in the snow, the way the sunlight gleamed on the snow making it sparkle.

Arthur was just entranced by you, and how you just seemed so happy.

“You’re always so happy when I see you, why?”

“What is there to not be happy about? I have a home, a brother, a mother, I have friends, food. There is always something to be happy about.”

Arthur hummed a little, nodding his head.

“You wouldn’t want more in life?”

“Not when I already have everything. You don’t need to be rich to be happy, as long as you find something or someone that makes you happy it’s alright.”

Arthur glanced at you, and he smiled a little.

“That’s a very different take in the world.”

You beamed brightly at him, kneeling down to make another snowball for Rufus.

“Hey, look out!”

Arthur went to grab you but it was too late, you slipped down the hill, and he was rushing as fast as he could behind you.

When he reached the bottom he knelt down.

“Hey, hey (Y/N)?”

You grumbled a little, lifting your head to look at him.

“Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My leg.”

Arthur nodded, looking down at your leg, gently touching it and you winced in pain.

“Here, come on, let’s move you up.”

Arthur helped you up, and you guys slowly walked along the bottom of the hill to try and find a way back up.

After a while you had to stop, so he took his cloak off and laid it on the snow and sat you down.

Rufus laid next to you letting out a whine.

“I’ll try find a way, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded your head, watching him leave.

You knew there wasn’t going to be one, a hill like that there wasn’t going to be a way back up that wasn’t covered in snow.

Making sure it was safe, you held out your hand, whispering something under your breath, and a small trail in the snow fell away, creating a path up.

You ran a hand over your dogs head, scratching behind his ears.

Arthur wasn’t gone long, and he came back, shaking his head.

“I couldn’t find one, I’m sorry.”

He knelt next to you, looking at your leg again.

“I did find some sticks though, do you have anything in that bag to help me make a splint?”

“Oh, of course.”

Opening it, you pulled out your scarf, handing it over to him.

“It’s not the best, but it should help. We’ll sit here and rest, then keep going. I think there’s a storm coming in.”

“I think I saw a path just over there, could you look?”

Arthur looked at where you were pointing.

“Yeah, of course.”

He got up, checking.

He made sure it was stable before grabbing you, helping you up it, then he crouched down.

“Get on.”

“I can’t do that, a Prince can’t be seen carrying someone like me.”

“I don’t care, you’re hurt, get on.”

You sighed, climbing on his back and he stood up, making his way back where you guys had come from.

“I’ll take you to Guis, hopefully you leg isn’t that bad.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How did you see the path, I didn’t see it.”

“Maybe in the panic you missed it? Or it blended in the with snow?”

“No, no it definitely wasn’t there.”

Arthur went quiet for a few moment.

“There’s only one thing I can think off.”

“What’s that Arthur?”

He paused walking, crouching down to set you on the ground before turning around to look at you.

“Can you use magic?”

You tried not to react.

“I feel unsafe answering that.”

“(Y/N), can you use magic?

“If I say yes you’ll have me killed, if I say no you’re not going to believe me, and have me killed. I’m sorry but I can’t answer.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes a little bit, and he spun around to a noise behind him but there was nothing.

Turning back around his cloak and yours were on the ground, and you and Rufus were both gone, leaving not even a footprint in the snow

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (15)*

Happy release day Sunday everyone! comment to be added to the tag list as always!

!!! This chapter contains smut !!! Remember that chapters marked with * will be NSFW

enjoy <3

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Mattheo looks you up and down before kissing you, holding the side of your neck.

After he pulls away, you speak up, “what?” 

“You’re just so pretty.” Mattheo smiles, teeth showing.

“Whatever” you roll your eyes, Mattheo’s hand is still by your ear.

You yawn, clearly tired, “oh wow, I wore you out didn’t I?” He smirks.

Mattheo wipes his hand through your hair, messing it up, “stop it!” You swipe his hand away as you laugh.

“Guys open up!” You hear Pansy say as she knocks on the door.

“Oh shit” you mutter as you walk over and open it for her. 

She steps inside and looks between the two of you before looking to your bed, the sheets messed up.

“Sorry we were just-” you start.

Pansy holds up her hand, “I don’t even want to know…although I think I do already.” 

She walks over to her chest, grabbing a towel before walking to her dresser and sifting through them to look for pajamas.

“I am really tired though…” you trail off, holding Mattheo’s hand.

“Alright, fine. Goodnight my love.” He says gently before pecking you on the lips and leaving.

After the door is shut, Pansy chimes in, “I don’t know what you’ve done with that boy, but you have him wrapped around your little finger.”

“I do not!” You try to defend yourself.

“Seriously? He’s whipped. He’d do anything for you, even I can tell that” she shrugs before walking into the bathroom, “whatever you’re doing, it’s working” she adds before closing the door behind her.

Shortly after that, you fall asleep while Pansy gets ready for bed. You really are tired, it has been a long few days.

The next morning you wake up and go through classes as normal, walking down to class with Draco.

You only have Divination with Mattheo today, your very last class. You had never been this way before but you were excited for this class and so excited to see Matty.

You practically sprint to get to the divination classroom, sitting at your table, watching for Mattheo to walk in.

People start filing in, sitting at their respective seats when you finally see Mattheo walking in.

You watch him as he looks over to you and smirks lightly. Subtle but noticeable enough for you. 

He sits down in his seat, “hi Matty.” You coo quietly.

“Hi.” He holds his smirk, his dimples showing just a little bit.

Professor Trelawney addresses the class, “ok children, we’re going to do a standard tea leaf reading today. We must see what the world is trying to tell us.” 

The class breaks off, talking amongst themselves but before you can get a word out, Mattheo raises his hand.

“Professor Trelawney, I had a raspberry scone for breakfast and I don’t feel too well,” Mattheo says.

“Oh dearie, must you go to the infirmary?” Trelawney says coming up to your table.

“I need to. You know I think she had the same thing as me…” Mattheo points to you.

You hadn’t eaten breakfast at all but you could tell by Mattheo’s expression that he didn’t want you to reveal that, “oh yeah my stomach is a little uneasy…”

“Oh dreadful, you two must go now, I’ll see you in class next time.” She motions you two to get up and leave. 

You and Mattheo both pick up your books and leave the classroom together. You start walking the halls, Mattheo making sure nobody is following you before he grabs your hand and starts picking up his pace.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you laugh. 

Mattheo pulls you into a potions closet before shutting the door behind you.

He throws your books to the ground next to you guys and pulls you in kissing you roughly.

He holds the sides of your face, scrunching your hair up in the process. 

After a moment, you back away, “what is that for?”

“I missed you.” He says hungrily, kissing you again.

“I missed you too.” You say back between kisses. 

You start pulling his blazer off as he unbuttons your shirt.

You pull away as you both undress, you leave your skirt on but take off your shirt and bra off.

Mattheo drops his blazer, pants, and boxers at the same time. He pulls a condom out of his pants pocket in the meantime.

“In the back pocket? Seriously?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“What? I like to be prepared.” He shrugs. He puts it on as you impatiently wait.

When you're both done undressing, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You look down as Mattheo lines up his cock with you, he inserts himself in you, making you grab the shelf on the wall behind you.

“Oh shit.” You mutter as he starts a pace, moving in and out of you.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” Mattheo breathes out. You wrap your arms around Mattheo’s shoulders, your fingers lingering at the back of his neck.

Mattheo picks up his pace, causing you to let out a moan. You start to feel your high coming, it didn’t take much for him to get you there.

Your nails start digging into the back of his neck, sure to leave marks.

“I’m almost there.” You manage to say in between breaths, Mattheo slows his pace, sending you over the edge.

One of your hands finds its way into Mattheo’s hair, the other settling on his chest.

“Fuck.” He mutters as both of you ride your highs together. After a moment, he pulls out of you, letting you jump back down onto the ground.

You both take deep breaths as you put your clothes back on. You finish dressing before him so you take the time to watch him, buckling his belt.

When he turns around, his mouth is slightly agape but he can’t say a word before you crash your lips into his.

 When you back away, he says, “I feel better already.” 

“Okay I know I didn’t eat breakfast and I doubt you did either.” You giggle.

“Trelawney doesn’t need to know that.” He smirks.

You hold his cheeks in your hands, “you’re crazy.” 

“Maybe so but I just got to fuck my girlfriend so it was worth it.” He shrugs.

A smile creeps on your face, “you just called me your girlfriend.”

“Well I mean we’ve slept together more than once now…” He smiles as he toys with you before pulling you up, kissing you again. “And you already know how I feel for you”

You place your hand on his chest, “yeah I wouldn’t mind hearing it again”

He rolls his eyes before responding, “I love you so fucking much”

You peck him on the lips one more time, not being able to contain yourself.

After he pulls away, you pick your books up and Mattheo opens the door. You both walk out into the hall, looking both ways to make sure there’s not a professor.

As you walk down the hall, you try to fix your hair. The halls were empty since the last class was still going but there was no way you or Mattheo were going back.

You both walk back to the Slytherin house and sit on the couch by the fire. He puts his arm over your shoulder and you lean into him, feeling peaceful.

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss @schaebickel @swamp-box @iamdnb

[valleyfae]

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ➛ Guys My Age AU: Masterlist

Paring: divorced!neighbor!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: soft father figure Bucky, age gap (reader’s in uni and Bucky’s in his 40s), hurt/comfort, heavy topics (indications of an abusive parent), smut 18+ ONLY MDNI, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (male receiving), lots of praise, dirty talk, and teasing. Bold italicized text is from the reader’s journal or past!!

Synopsis: You can't seem to keep your plans straight or your hands off of each other.

Word Count: 3.5k words

Authors Note: I have finally decided to update this fic, and I am so sorry it took so long. This part was supposed to be double the length, but I split it in half to post something now until I am happy with the second part. Enjoy!!

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐒. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

You’ve been awake for hours.

The bright rays of sunlight sneak through the narrow opening of the cream curtains that lightly sway in the summer breeze. The ashamed feeling of disgust still sunken deep into your heavy chest. Brain fuzzy, limbs weak, stomach cramping, nausea taking over your body as you groan. 

You tiredly stretch; the feeling of your cotton sheets is the only comfort you’ve gotten since Bucky held you in his safe arms. The sunken bags under your eyes become more apparent every day you go without him. 

Falling back into your drowsy state, chilling goosebumps creep down your spine. Yet, no matter the temperature, all you can feel is the isolation and the guilt you somehow manage to carry, blaming yourself for the actions others make. 

A sudden buzz from your phone instantly snaps you out of your hopeless mood. Too lethargic to check your messages, you ignore the notifications. A second buzz vibrates against your wooden bedside table. Tiredly you lift your hand out from under the covers. You squint your eyes as the bright screen inflicts your tired vision.

Dad - 9:27 am

About to leave for my business trip

Dad - 9:29 am 

Your keys are in the kitchen

His texts give a clear indication of what will be happening.

What always happens. 

You can’t deny the sick feeling that stirs your stomach from normalizing his apathetic customs. Dropping your phone onto your burdensome chest, you have zero reaction to the thump of the heavy glass screen on your exposed skin. 

You huff out, grief crawling under your skin. As you pull your covers over your face, you hear yet another buzz, your phone buzzing on your skin. "Shut up," you irately mumble into your soft duvet.

Carelessly, you sit up, sick of seeing your father's name. You quickly glance at the message, not bothering to see what it says, immediately throwing your phone back onto the sheets. 

Freezing your movements, you furrow your brows in confusion. 

You sit fully up for the first time this morning. Leaning against your headboard, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to collect yourself from the lingering worries built up through your restless night. Nervous excitement washes the sullen expressions off your face. 

Your heart beats at a pathetically fast rate from simply seeing a notification.

Butterflies swarm your stomach, filling your throat with apprehensive nausea. Oh my god, just look at the fucking message. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the candle that lingers around your room; building up the courage, you open Bucky’s text.

Bucky - 9:31 am

Good morning, sweetheart! I hope you got a good night's sleep and got some rest. If you want to come over, I’ll be at my house. I just need to finish a little work but come whenever you want. There is a key behind the plant pot :)

Overwhelmed, you feel a sense of consolation as you read Bucky’s text repeatedly. You drag your hands down your face, shaking off your last bit of exhaustion.

It’s a little pathetically how a straightforward text Bucky probably wrote without thinking could bring you this much joy.

Stretching your sore muscles, you take your time to get out of bed – following the bright shine through the curtains, you pull them open to the sound of your father’s car dragging against the gravel. You turn your back to the window, take a deep breath, and push away your negative thoughts. 

You spend the next thirty minutes getting ready, taking your time to feel the hot water run down your back. You gently rub the sweet vanilla scent across your skin, wincing as your fingers skim over your bruises and sore muscles. 

Overcome by the debilitating urge to rush next door, you hastily gather your journal and headphones, knowing Bucky will be busy for a bit – you don’t care how long it takes him. 

You slip into a pair of shorts, the distressed denim skimming your legs, and the cotton of your old band-tee loosely hangs from your shoulders.

The warm breeze hits your skin as your shadow follows your restless steps until you reach the familiar sight of Bucky’s front door. 

You follow his expected thoughtful notes, involuntarily smiling as you pick up the cold key from the shade behind the potted plant, dragging the tip of your finger against the sharp ridges of the metal and taking a breath before gathering your overly excited body.

Carefully opening the heavy door, you step inside. The perfect type of silence and captivating scent flood your senses. Just being in Bucky’s house felt safe. The calm, sleek modern features hold a refreshing atmosphere that radiates the most precious feeling. 

As you step out of your untied Converse, the silence breaks. A faint purr draws you to the couch, and your giddiness heightens.

“Hello, pretty,” you coo, sitting beside the snow-white feline. “Don’t you look comfy?” Then, with one hand tenderly stroking Alpine, you pull your pen and journal out of your canvas bag.

Curled beside you, Alpine’s eyes flutter shut. “You have the most beautiful eyes, just like your dad.” She purrs in response closing the slight gap. “The most beautiful blue eyes.”

Your soft smile melts into a somber gulp as you take out your journal–leafing through your messy notebook and skimming over your prior writing. Lump forming in your throat, you hinder your light flipping of the pages and blankly stare at your words from the previous nights. 

The rivets of dried tear stains scatter your notes like the cuts and bruises fading from your skin.

The painful pages of burden. Every word, hit, insult, ingrained in your memory, the agonizing pluses, the claustrophobic beating of your heart, the fearful tremors, the salty tears slipping through the passage of your lips, manipulated to insanity, exhausted and delirious.

Bottled-up emotions flooded onto the pages of your journal – forever stuck in the cycle of shock, fear, denial, anger, and hopelessness. The stiffly chained pattern has never broken before.  

You never expected to feel any sort of safety.

Shame is always significant, always present, lingering in your mind, but the way Bucky cradles you in his strong arms brings you the comfort and acceptance you never expected, ever. The mounds of self-doubt that control your life slowly dissipate with every second you spend with him. The feeling he gives you is so foreign, and there are not enough words to describe it. The way he holds you in his arms. He’s nurturing. He feels like home.

The desperate longing for someone – that someone, perfect with all of their flaws and broken pieces. That person who will mend your fragile, fragmented mind, body, and soul. You never thought you would find the person, but with Bucky, it is finally starting to feel real.

You’ve never felt joy reading through your journal, repressed memories surfacing, haunting your every moment. Well, not until the night you spent the night at Buckys.

He is perfect – every part of him. 

“Sweetheart?” Bucky calls, a deep and gentle voice echoing down the stairs. His eyes land on the precious sight below him, and he gushes.

Longing gaze snapped back into reality, turning around and stuffing your journal in your bag. “Bucky?”

Nimble fingers rubbing through his beard, scratching the nape of his neck, he teases, taking his last steps to the couch. “Bunny?” kneeling, he tenderly pulls you into a hug, stroking Alpine when she lets out a jealous meow.

Walking down the hall, Bucky guides you into his bedroom. Thoughts mirroring yours, he stops you, gripping your chin between his fingers. Limbs intertwining and heavy breaths mingling, his soft lips skimming yours.

“Miss hearing that flustered hitch in your breath,” he whispers against your lips. “Perfect little girl’s all mine.”

You huff, nuzzling your heated cheeks into his buff chest. “Miss everything about you,” your words muffle against the black cloth constricting Bucky’s muscular figure.

Silence has never been more beautiful, cradled in his arms. Tension building with no fear, just desire.

“Got you something,” Bucky smirks.

Letting out a faint whine, you look up at Bucky, urgently wrapping your arms around his neck. Dwindling patience at an all-time low, heart rate climbing, Bucky welcomes your lips. His tongue glides pasts yours, syncing with the motion of your body as you cling to him.

“I got you a swimsuit,” Bucky whispers into the kiss. “Can go swimming this time, not just— God,” he curses under his breath when you playfully suck along his jaw.

“Not just… fuck me?” you pull away, surprising yourself with the way your words blatantly slip out of your mouth.

Bucky laughs, mockingly pulling away and laying a kiss on your forehead. “Someone’s got a dirty mouth today,” he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

With another sheepish grin, you follow Bucky down the hall, patiently swaying in your seat; you wait for him to bring you the swimsuit he found while in his suit.

Confidence in his step, Bucky tenderly smiles, holding out a cherry red one-piece.

Throat abruptly going dry, the customary throb radiates heat through your jean shorts. Hesitation stirs in your stomach–nervous nausea blocking your airway, cutting your breath short.

I’ve never felt uncomfortable around him. He’s never commented on my body, never drawn attention to my bruises and scars, and never made me feel weird for the horrendous way my eyes get puffy and face blotches when I cry. No one has ever made me feel the same as he does or made me feel good about myself. So does he care or only pity me because I’m just that pathetic? I don’t want him to worry about me. I don’t want him to think I just want attention. I don’t want to feel even more ashamed of myself. I just want to keep pretending that life is perfect, like how it is when I’m with him.

“I’m not the best shopper, aren't I?” Bucky sarcastically snickers, lightening the worried expression on your face.

“No, no, it’s just a little red?” you giggle, pushing your stresses aside. “I love it!”

Smiling up at Bucky, he takes your place, sitting on the linen couch. The soft chuckles of banter gone silent, you timidly undressing to rapidly put the swimsuit on. Tense arms hidden behind your back, you fidget with your fingers, eyes following the pattern of the wooden tiles.

Tongue swiping across his velvety yet slightly chapped lips, his large hand grips your discarded clothes. “Bunny?” his tone sweet and delicate, melodically humming with the blowing wind that ruffles the curtains.

Hands molding to your shoulders, he coos, “Take a deep breath for me.” Chaos constantly cluttering your mind, you follow Bucky’s instructions, giving him your vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

All you can do is nod, leaning into his warm embrace.

*ೃ༄

The summer sun beats down on the two of you as you agilely trace patterns down Bucky’s abdomen, centimeters away from gliding over his shorts. You shift lower in the sun lounger, intertwining your thigh around his leg.

The nervous lump thumping in your chest falls, adding to the pulse radiating off your clit and breaking the stop to your restlessness, gradually bucking your clenched hips as your nose brushes the thick trail of hair that travels beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“Feeling needy, bunny?” Bucky smugly chuckles, placing his book down and his colossal palm on your head instead. “No need to act shy; been teasing me, wiggling in those little red bottoms.” 

You tuck your head, and your flustered instinct kicks in, nose pressing against Bucky’s bulge; you whimper, realizing your position and rising embarrassment.

“Did so good for me last time. I’m still here to help but fuck.” Bucky tenderly rests his palm on your cheek. “Gonna get me hard just thinking about those soft lips wrapped around my cock, looked so pretty, so innocent sucking on my balls. Most perfect sight I’ve ever seen.”

The temperature of your face increases, but that doesn’t stop your body and your racing thoughts. Vivid images flood your memory of the first time you gave Bucky head, the first time you have ever given a man head. 

The one time has left you with a ravenous craving for Bucky, a desperate yearning to please him, the vague taste of him ingrained in your imagination every second that goes by, and it’s intoxicating.

“Can I?”

Looking up, you admire Bucky's defined abs, perfectly sculpted biceps, the bright sunlight glimmering in his crystal blue eyes. A comforting aura emits from his words, breath, and presence; that feeling of safety mixed with passion curates his effect on you, the lust that flows through your veins, leaving you writhing for friction.

You sit up, putting your weight on your heels – pressing against the emerging wet patch on your red bikini. “You know, um….” you mumble, eyes subconsciously drawing to Bucky’s bulge.

He shifts up, spreading his thighs, establishing a space for you to lay. “We have an eager little girl today, now do we?” Bucky chuckles, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead, savoring the feeling of his soft, blush lips on your skin before he pulls away, his gaze piercing through your eyes with a gentle smile. “You’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmurs.

Licking your lips, you tug the supple flesh with your teeth; anticipating his following instructions, you center yourself and lay your clammy palms on your legs, exhibiting your restlessness with a subtle pout.

Intertwining his fingers with yours, he guides your hands to his growing bulge. “Don’t worry, bunny. I'm here.” The trembling of your wrists dies down as Bucky reassuringly moves your shaky touch to a steady pace. “I got you.”

Slipping your fingers past the band of Bucky’s swim trunks, you pull them down his hips, gaze apprehensively shifting from Bucky’s alluring eyes to the expanding path of hair you’re gradually exposing.

“Lemme just,” Bucky grumbles, freeing his strained erection and aching full balls from the polyester. A content sigh washes over him as you finish taking off his bottoms.

Sinful and tainted, you cave in, your mouth watering excessively as you attentively watch Bucky wrap his fingers around his thick base. “Go on and lay down for me.” 

You hastily shift into the spot between Bucky’s muscular thighs, timidly placing a hand on his olive skin. “There you go, pretty girl’s so smart,” Bucky croons, his palm smoothing over your temple.

Your fingers barely conceal Bucky’s staggering girth mimicking his form seconds before; you glide your tongue up his shaft coating him with an abundant amount of your drool, all while maintaining hankering eye contact. His distinct, musky taste seeping into your taste buds, the feeling of his jutting veins intoxicating, you let out a content hum. Following your steady path, you kiss Bucky’s bulbous tip; a faint moan vibrates off your puckered lips, drawing a deep grunt from his chest.

“You see how hard you make me? Fucking hell, don’t need my help at all. So good for me—” Bucky groans, guiding your head down, pushing himself past your glistening lips. “That’s my girl.”

You immediately gag, glassy eyes building tears, your body’s natural response seeming hostile, but it’s your favorite feeling.

Both hands tentatively wrapped around him, the tip of Bucky’s cock prods the back of your throat—drool seeping past your lips, cascading over your tense knuckles.

Bucky's words meld into satisfied grunts, his chest heaving to the rhythm he enforces with his hand pressing down on the crown of your head. “Always take me like a champ,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Don’t you, bunny?”

His pulsing tip pummels down your throat, pushing your head down further, and a perfectly sculpted outline of his cock shapes down your neck abundantly. Copious amounts of saliva coat your chin, running down your chest and creating a glistening pool to glaze over the cushion below you.

Encouraging groans flow from Bucky’s lips as he digs his pearly white teeth into his plush red lips. His eyes locked on yours, the plentiful strands of silver that weave through his hair, glimmering in the sunlight.

The thump in your chest drops between your legs. You urgently clamp your thighs together, helplessly clenching your muscles in an attempt to fulfill the ache exuding heat from your neglected clit. You sync your needy movements with the tempo Bucky set with his hand planted on the back of your head. The repetition of your self-inflicted grinds rapidly builds a coil in your stomach.

Bucky frees you from under his grasp, stifles the tempo of his thrusts, and pumps his cock. “There she is,” he groans. “Shit. Making me feel so good.” 

Increasing the speed of the rough buckling of your hips, Bucky continues to praise you as your drool-painted lips connect to his full heavy balls. His stare drops from your watery eyes to your hips, needily grinding onto nothing. “You don’t need my help, doing amazing. Love it so much you’re humping the air, aren’t you, poor thing?”

The sound of your gags is replaced by your pleading whimpers, which have become more and more substantial as you borrow your nose further against Bucky’s base, his balls drawing up as you slurp your excessive drool.

“Come here,” Bucky motions, soothingly rubbing your free hand on his thigh. “Help me cum – need to feel that pretty cunt wrapped around my fingers. Need to show my girl how proud of her I am.”

Responding with a confused hum, Bucky cups your cheek, gently guiding you up, patting the cushion; he stabilizes your trembling legs, straddling your thighs so you’re hovering over his cock, harder than ever.

He patiently hooks his dexterous fingers around the vibrant fabric, revealing your puffy clit.

He catches your keen gaze, eyes following down to your eager pout and back to your cunt, skimming your mound with his digits. Struggling to form a sentence, you reflexively roll your hips, internally screaming, begging for Bucky to speed up his sly gestures.

His soft chuckles fuel your neediness, but before he can get his words out, you huff, “be patient. I know, I know.” Digging your fingers into his biceps, you giggle, mirroring his smile.

Swimsuit fully pushed to the side, Bucky slides his tip between your folds, teasing your entrance. “Using my words against me,” he rebuts, moving his hands and securely gripping your waist. “You know I’m right. I always make you feel good.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you whimper under your breath, “Bucky.”

Feeding your restless state, he slowly slips you down onto his length, stretching past your entrance.

As much pleasure as Bucky has brought you in every other position, this foreign fluffiness and a false sense of control is startling yet exciting. Bucky’s steady thrusts, combined with your frantic bounces as you rock your hips, almost instantly bring you to your climax.

“B-Buck–” you mewl, embarrassment and pleasure clouding your senses. “Please, I’m- I’m….” Squinting your eyes shut, you arch your back, tensing your muscles.

Maintaining his authoritative grasp on you, Bucky attaches the pad of his thumb to your clit, pulling a squeal from the back of your throat. “So quick,” he scoffs, breathlessly moaning himself. “Look at me, bunny.”

You collapse onto Bucky’s chest, tired and helplessly chasing the rapid thump in your abdomen. “Feels s-so, feels so good.” Brows furrowed, you open your heavy lids, holding back your release until Bucky reassures your pleas. “Can’t hold it, can’t hold it.”

Desperately squirming on top of Bucky, you press your parted lips to his, panting into his mouth. “Go on, cum for me.”

You let go, moaning as you jolt forward, embracing Bucky’s pace, clinging to his frame, letting him take complete control. “There you go—” Bucky’s words get increasingly gravelly as he feels himself climaxing.

His hot breath cascades down your neck–the heightening, deep, harsh snaps of hips let you know he is close. “B-Bucky, please. Please c-cum in me,” you breathlessly mumble.

“Fuck, bunny.”

Bucky holds you close, soothing you from the bliss. He isn’t thinking about anything else besides you in his arms. He lets you bask in the comfortable silence as the pulse between your legs ebbs away until all that is left painting your sensitive folds is his smooth seed that you begged him to fill you up with.

Keeping your clammy cheek pressed to his beating chest Bucky reaches for one of the pool towels he had brought out to clean up to the best of his abilities.

“Said we were swimming, and you wouldn’t just fuck me,” you murmur, voice still raspy as you pull yourself out of the hazy aftermath.

Bucky chuckles as he lays the towel back down. “Really are using my word’s against me today, aren’t you?”

“Uhmm,” you happily hum back at Bucky, shifting up to press your buzzing lips back onto his.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

I want to say thank you for all of your sweet messages on my form. They all mean a lot to me, and I wish there was a way for me to respond. I hope you guys enjoyed the fic. Sending my love.

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[lizard-queen-izzy]

I Hate Everything About You

Summary: What if Jon and Tim's fight at the end of MAG 65 had gone a little differently? [Most of the dialogue is from the transcripts so obviously full credit to Jonny for those lines.] Word count: 1952 Author's note: It's finally here! Sorry to keep you all waiting, but it's here now! I would apologize in advance but, I'd have to feel remorse to apologize so.

------------------------------

The tape recorder clicked back to life. 

“Supplemental. It looks like my posting on a few of the more tech-savvy boards appealing for statements has worked. While the incident itself seems ultimately inconsequential, I was able to convince Tessa to have a look at Gertrude’s laptop, claiming to have locked myself out,” Jon turned to the now glowing screen of the laptop. “I don’t know what she did - something about “command lines’’ and “administrative privileges” - But I now. Have. Access.” he let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’m almost afraid-” he froze at the sound of the door creaking open. Tim stepped through the door.

“Hey, where did you put the-” He stopped at the sight of Jon hunched over the recorder. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you while you were being suspicious-”

“It’s fine.” Jon cut him short before he could drag this nonsense out again.

“No, no, I’ll - catch you when you’re not scheming.” He threw his hands up and backed out the door, turning and reaching to pull it shut behind him. Jon knew he should leave it at that. But he couldn’t help the words that spilled from his mouth, unfortunately, loud enough for Tim to hear.

“No need to take that tone-” Tim whipped around faster than Jon thought possible.

“What?” There was a venom in Tim’s voice, the look of disbelief on his face made something twist in Jon’s stomach. He straightened in his seat, attempting to smooth things back down to their normal levels of discomfort. “Nothing. I’ll see you later -”

“No.” Tim stepped back into the room, the door closing silently behind him. He turned the chair in front of Jon’s desk around, sitting on it. “What did you say?” He was leaning over the top of the back of the chair, still managing to tower over Jon even seated and at a distance. Jon once again readjusted in his seat, hoping he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt.

“I said there’s no need for the attitude, I know things have been difficult but -” Tim cut him off, again.

“Oh, they have, have they? ‘Things have been difficult?’ You’ve spent a month staring at that footage -” he leaned even closer, practically laying on the desk, “double-checking every moment, timing every tea break, looking at me like I somehow staged it - but no! You’re right: ‘Things have been difficult.’” His face was twisted in anger, his breathing was getting shallower. 

“It just seems a little too convenient!” Jon could feel himself getting worked up, could feel his composure slipping. “Excuse me!?” Tim sounded like he’d been shot. His mouth hung slightly agape, and Jon couldn’t place the look in his eyes.

“I mean, the CCTV is so corrupted that the police can’t just use it immediately, and then they happen to finish restoring it when I start really digging into the murder!? And if it was an option, why not clean it up when she first disappeared!?” He could hear himself getting louder, but he didn’t care. Tim wanted to talk, they were talking now. “And don’t get me started on the lack of cameras in the Archives - I know, I know Elias’s whole spiel about ‘signal degradation’ and ‘installation issues,’ but I don’t buy it. I mean, he got the CO2 system put in easily enough-”

“Shut. Up.” TIm’s voice cut through Jon, silencing him. He looked up to see Tim staring at the desk, teeth and fists both clenched, tight. 

“What-”

“Shut up. Just stop talking. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you! We didn’t kill Gertrude, and no one wants to kill you, you pompous idiot!” 

“Now, listen here-” Tims hand slammed into the desk.

“No. No. You listen, for once. I was fine in research. Happy. Then you asked me to be transferred here and suddenly it’s all monsters and killers and secret passages, oh my!” He was standing now, making his way around to Jon’s side of the desk. Jon turned in his seat to face him, not yet daring to stand. “And the worst thing - the actual worst thing - is that no one here has my back. With any of it! Elias doesn’t care, Martin just wants a tea party, and Sasha - ugh - and you! - You’re treating me like I’m somehow to blame for it all, like I didn’t suffer the worst right alongside you!” His breathing was ragged now, and Jon stood to meet him. “Well, excuse me if my experiences have made me-” but Tim cut him off again, this time punctuated by shoving him backwards into the wall.

“Your experiences? Fuck you, I got eaten by worms because of you!” His fist was balled in the front of Jon’s shirt, holding him in place against the wall. Jon squirmed in his grasp, turning his head as far up as he could to try and meet Tim’s eyes. Tim’s gaze was hard and set on Jon and nothing else. If looks could kill, well, Jon was glad they couldn’t. 

“Well, what do you want? You want sympathy?” He spat the last word out, and something flashed in Tim’s eyes. His grip on Jon’s shirt tightened and he pushed him further into the wall.

“You know what, yeah! Little bit of basic sympathy would have been nice!” 

“Jane Prentiss was not my fault, I did not bring her to the Archives-”

“Oh, but you went off the deep end afterwards, didn’t you!? Everything went to hell-” He was gesturing wildly at the air with the arm not currently holding Jon in place. “-and when you actually needed to be in charge, you just hid down here and played with your tape recorder.”

“Well, what would you have me do!?”

Tim’s other arm hit the wall, caging Jon in.

“Anything! Anything that wasn't turning into a paranoid lunatic would have been fine! Anything that showed you could actually do your job!” His face was close now, and Jon could feel his breath on his cheeks. He took in a shaky breath. “Well,” he let out a strained laugh, “Elias clearly thinks-”

“Elias should’ve fired you weeks ago!”

“What!?”

“After everything you’ve pulled, you should be gone. But no! Instead, we all get to talk about how you’re feeling, because we’re worried about our stalker boss. I, I can’t do this anymore!” Tim was shaking now, and it was sending shockwaves through Jon. Jon didn’t know what to say to help, because nothing would fix this. Whatever he and Tim had had before Jane Prentiss, before the Archives? It was gone. Dead and buried and never coming back no matter how much he dug. He could stand there searching for words forever and none of them would undo the damage. So instead, he said all he could think to, knowing it would be the final nail in the coffin. “Then quit.” He heard his voice crack and prayed Tim didn’t, “If you hate it so much, leave your post in the Archives. Permanently.”

“Are you firing me?” The shock in Tim’s voice was like a twist of the knife Jon was trying to desperately pretend wasn’t driving its way through his heart. That same, unidentifiable look passed in his eyes, and it made Jon hesitate for a moment before proceeding.

“...I’m offering you a chance to quit. No notice period, I’ll even make sure you get the rest of the month’s paycheck. Just say the words.” The silence hung between them like a challenge. Neither of them moved, Jon could barely feel Tim’s breath on his face, almost like he was afraid breathing would be response enough. Tim slumped forward, forehead practically resting on Jon’s.

“I want to…” It came out more like a release of breath than words.

“So do it.” Jon’s voice dropped to match.

“I…Can’t.” His voice cracked, and Jon saw tears beginning to fall from his eyes.

“Why not?” 

“I, I can’t! I don’t know - why can’t I quit!?”

“I-I don’t know. But I don’t think I can fire you either…”

“What?”

“It’s this place.”

“...I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. I’m trying to figure it out I-I’ve got the shape of it but…” He started to reach for him, to offer him some kind of comfort, but his hand froze halfway to Tim’s arm. It hung in the air along with all their unspoken words. “I’m sorry, Tim. Truly I am. But I cannot and will not trust you. This place isn’t right - you see that now. I don’t know how or why, but there is something very wrong with the Archives. And I don’t know who here is a victim of it - and who is an agent.” The words filled the ever closing space between them, and they stung like salt in an open wound. Tim took in a shaky breath. “So… What do we do?”

“For now…? I suppose we just… do our jobs.”

“I don’t want to.”

“No.” Jon let the moment hang in the air. Let it be for a moment, acceptance washing over him. This was it, the end. Tim made no attempt to move, still gripping Jon’s shirt like a life-line, his other arm firmly planted against the wall, both keeping Jon from moving an inch. Jon’s own arm still hung in the air beside them, half extended to touch the arm holding his shirt. Tim’s grip tightened on Jon’s shirt, which he didn’t think possible, and his face twisted like he was deep in thought. “Tim, can you please let go?” His voice was smaller than he was proud of, but he was worried to speak any louder would make Tim do something rash. His eyes were unfocused, still looking down at Jon, but more vaguely than trained on him like prey. He tried again, in case he hadn’t heard him. “Tim.”

“No.”

“Please..”

“SHUT. UP!” His voice boomed with the sudden raise in volume, and before Jon even knew what was happening, his lips were crashing into his own. It was nothing like he’d imagined kissing Tim would be like, though he knew he didn’t deserve the soft, careful kisses he had imagined. He knew he didn’t even deserve this one. He let himself be manhandled, Tim’s hand moving off the wall to hold his jaw firmly in place while he kissed him. Jon let his hand finally fall against Tim’s chest. Flat at first, then eventually allowing himself to also clutch Tim’s shirt, pulling him further into him. He didn’t know how long he had, but he was going to relish in it as long as he could. Tim’s weight shifted almost like he’d stepped closer, god could they get any closer, and then all at once he was gone. He pulled back, putting some distance between them, and stared at Jon.   His face was flushed, his lips bright pink and still wet from the kiss. And that look in his eyes was back though Jon still couldn’t quite place it. Jon took in a breath, his whole body shaking from the effort, he knew he must look pathetic. Neither of them said anything, the silence between them back, but so different now. Tim shuffled further away from Jon, back towards the door.

“...I. um, suppose I’ll see you later.”

“I suppose so.” The door creaked loudly behind Tim as he shut it. Jon fell back down into his chair, slumped with defeat. So they weren’t going to talk about it, great. What was one more thing they wouldn’t talk about? Jon thought of getting up and following Tim, but he knew Tim wouldn’t want that. His eyes fell to the tape recorder, wheels still spinning. 

“End supplemental.” The tape recorder clicked off. ------------------------------

[moonlightdreamzz]

kill bill

part one

you return back to korea one year after you and hyunjin broke up, only to find out he has replaced you. how could he replace you?

→ g: all of it. the pain, the sexy, the happiness. angstsmutfluff! <3

🎧 ➤ kill bill by sza

warning! you’re a heartbroken bitter ex girlfriend here, although for a valid reason. party environment! mentions of (w**d) and alcohol, language, and infidelity!

I'm so mature, I'm so mature

I'm so mature, I got me a therapist to tell me there's other men

I don't want none, I just want you

If I can't have you, no one should

it felt so, so good to scream these lyrics from the pit of your stomach. you imagine anyone that could hear you and felix passionately singing alongside sza had many questions, the first being; who hurt you? but, as always neither of you care in this moment. the two of you have finally finished cleaning up the dorm in preparation for changbin’s surprise birthday party; the only thing left to do now was decorate and get ready.

you have no idea where the rest of the members are, but who are you to ask questions? knowing your friend, he didn’t trust them to get the job done in time. they could be so damn silly sometimes, taking forever to do the simplest tasks. it was adorable watching their sad attempts to hold all their jokes and playful tendencies within. they failed every time.

felix, who is clearly exhausted from your early morning grind can’t help but to back into the wall and slide down to the wooden floors. he takes a deep breath before blowing upwards, causing the hair covering his forehead to lift ever so slightly.

“someone’s tired.” you chuckle, deciding to lay on the couch over the cold wood. you are so tempted to beg felix for a quick nap, but you know he’s gonna ridicule you for it if you do—in a friendly way of course. he has been talking about this party and how perfect it has to be for what felt like forever. you know deep down his real reasoning for being so prompt was because of who’s birthday it is.

“how can I truly be tired though, y/n?” his aussie accent is thick as he confesses his shame to you, “you came all the way here, landed early as hell in the morning with jet lag, and here you are cleaning with me. i need to get up.” just like that, felix has risen again and stretches his arms out before moving to start taking the decorations out the box.

he was always too hard on himself. “lix,” you coo, walking towards him and placing your hand on his shoulder gently, “getting rest is vital. even if for thirty minutes, why don’t you relax for a little bit? at least close your eyes?”

you can tell he’s considering it by the way his eyes look straight ahead into nothingness, but just as quick as the thought comes, it goes. he inhales deeply before continuing to take things from the huge brown box.

“i promise I’ll rest after this is all over. i just…i don’t want anything to mess up on my end.”

so, they really were all the same huh? those words trigger what feels like a thousand memories into your mind— all of someone you know you will have to see tonight. you were certain he has spoken that exact sentence to you on multiple occasions when you expressed how worried you were about his physical and mental health. you still have no idea what you’re going to say when the two of you eventually bump into each-other at this party.

you’re fidgeting now, and felix’s heart feels as if it wants to jump out of him for the day, but not because he was in love with you or anything. no, felix was incredibly guilty. he knows you’re thinking about his bandmate. you were always so…dazed when he was on your mind.

all day there has been this weird silence in the air between you and felix, which was abnormal to say the least. before you moved back home, you were two peas in a pod. your conversations could last for hours if you let it. all of the boys, but especially felix told you that they loved how free they felt around you. they loved how normal they felt in your presence. you didn’t know why it was such a bad thing, but apparently it was a sin here to have some fun.

the minutes keep passing by and felix has yet to utter a word to you. have things really changed this drastically since you left? was he angry at you for leaving? did you not check up on him enough?

“felix i—

“hyunjin has a new girlfriend!” he spits out as if there was a pistol on his scalp. the balloon he was blowing up flies from the machine, squealing as it tries to find a place to land. if there was a metaphor to describe what those words just did to you, it was that. you felt like a lifeless balloon. the tension in the room is so thick you feel like your throat is about to start closing on you.

your clear vision is now red, so much so, that you were certain your tears would be the same color if you weren’t fighting for your life to hold them in your tear ducts. you hate that even after a year, exactly a year by the way, that he still has so much control over your emotions.

“who?” are the only words you can manage.

felix thought that confessing to you would make him feel better, but as he watches you clearly refraining yourself from having a mental breakdown, he feels a thousand times worse. maybe he should have listened to changbin and chris when they told him to just let you see it. no—he was right. if you were going to hate him, he would rather you be able to say he warned you instead of you finding out from seeing hyunjin waltz in here with his new woman.

“some girl. she’s not famous, and I have no idea where he met her. i’m sorry, y/n. i know you’ve been going to therapy and everything and I just—I never wanted to trigger you. it’s still not an excuse I just—

“lix,” you finally breathe after what felt like days, even though it had only been a minute or two. “i’m not angry with you. how could I be?”

“because i’m your friend.”

“you’re his friend too.” is all you can muster. you know a look of defeat was prominent on your features, but you can’t fake it right now. it wasn’t worth it. you’re trying to push it down, but the rage is burning in the pit of your stomach. you looked so sane to the naked eye. upset? sure. pissed? maybe? but you were way more than those two emotions. you were heartbroken and livid all over again; a woman scorned. all you can hear in your mind right now is the last thing hyunjin uttered to you.

i will never be able to replace you. i need you to breathe. i love you. i’m so sorry. i’m sorry I failed you when I promised I never would.

you heard it in your dreams and nightmares what felt like every night. his voice cracked so clearly on the phone that night. he usually tried to be tough for you, pretending as if nothing could get to him, but not this time. he was so hysterical.

you believed him. you didn’t want to, but he was sobbing. or maybe your ego was big as fuck, and the thought of hyunjin unable to move on from you fed into your fantasy of him suffering without you. you hated that you felt this way, but it doesn’t matter now. it was all a lie.

“y/n.” you hear felix trying to snap you back to reality.

there’s a million things you want to say. you want to see her. you want to ask felix if hyunjin is as happy as he was with you. but you figure you’d save those questions for when he had to see you tonight. if he moved on genuinely, fine. but he was going to have to say it to your face.

“I’m cool.” you smile as if you hadn’t heard the news. you begin ripping the plastic off the decorations you assumed went on the wall based on their shape. you can feel felix’s doe eyes burn holes into you, but you learned a long time ago how to ignore that.

“you sure?” he questions in disbelief.

“positive. i just needed a minute to digest it. I’m good.”

the song you and felix had been shouting the lyrics to has replayed, neither you or Felix knowing the lyrics sza was singing beautifully would foreshadow what was to come later tonight.

I did it all for love

I did all of this on no drugs

I did all of this sober

Don't you know I did it all for us?

fit pics; a necessity when going to any function, but especially when you want your ex to feel sick to their stomach.

yes, you are that girl that makes your friends take your pictures over and over again—hating them all. no, you are not ashamed. this was jisung’s fifth round of taking pics of you, and you are trying so hard to hold in your laughter at his frustration. he’s looking at you, and you know he hasn’t blinked or breathed—already knowing that you’re going to tell him you don’t like the twenty new pictures he’s placed in your camera roll.

“if you don’t like these, i don’t know what to tell you. you look mad good. stop acting like that.”

“you’re lucky I’m pleased.” you smirk, pushing him playfully, “this is the least you can do for the many years you’ve spent trolling my ass, or have you forgotten?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he smirks back. his eyes attempt prove his innocence, but they fail and he can’t help but to push you back to play it off.

the music can be heard from outside of the dorms, and you have no idea how they are pulling this off tonight, but you never ask questions; you simply follow suit. you didn’t intend on missing the surprise, but jisung called you frantically saying that he was going to be late and that he would owe you if you pulled up alongside him. truth be told, you pretended that you were fine with being late because you loved him oh-so much, but in reality you wanted to make an entrance.

you wanted hyunijn to pace back and forth as his new girl got ready—heart practically beating out of his chest at the thought of having to see you. you knew he would arrive in preparation to say surprise! to his bandmate, subtly searching for you everywhere. obviously, you aren’t there, but he won’t know whether you are just in the bathroom, late, or not coming at all.

the time will continue to pass—but still no sign of you. his girl is there, so he won’t express his interest about your whereabouts out loud, but he will text felix wondering where you are. she’s coming, is all felix is going to respond, already receiving the text from you that you were running late to ride with jisung, but not wanting to spill your beans to your ex, regardless of the fact that he was hyunjin’s friend too.

you know his anxiety is going up and down right now. he’s probably not paying ole’ girl any attention because hyunjin knows. he fucking knows that any second now you will walk into that dorm and he’ll have to recall his last words to you. he’ll also have to see how damn fine you look tonight from head to toe. he’ll think of every single late night he tried to replace your body, but couldn’t. you love changbin so much, but he was crazier than you when it came to his lovers. he will understand. you also know he’s probably ten shots in by now, so if he was upset with you, the alcohol had drowned it away.

“come on.” jisung instructs. you’re surprised he’s not snapping in your face like everyone else does when you daze out. it had rained earlier, so the weather is perfect—not cold, but not hot. you and hyunjin love this kind of weather. if the two of you were still together, you’d probably be outside whispering sweet nothings to each-other while smoking a blunt and embracing the relaxing breeze that blew through the city.

you follow your friend, taking his hand that was extended out to you. he knows you too well. your anxiety was beginning to build up from the pit of your stomach. it always makes you feel sick and dizzy and you want to turn around and run off, but you can’t. your feet have began to hurt too—your boots although fashionable, never being the move when you were going to be standing for a long time.

“these are some of the trainees that’ll be in the next group.” jisung spills as you approach the entrance. you can’t tell whether they want to be here or not, but you can’t lie, this is adorable.

they greet the both of you respectfully—you, only because you were with their hyung, and the two of you step in promptly. immediately the smell of marijuana clouds your senses, and you can’t help but let out a cough. the music was so loud that you know you will likely have a headache in the morning, but it was worth it. there are people everywhere and they’re all doing the same thing; smoking, taking shots, and trying to find their person for the night.

“look who it is, finally.” a drunk changbin stumbles your way, immediately embracing you and picking you up. he reeks of everything in this room, including women, but you expect nothing less from the man of the hour. he looks nice—a typical all black fit from him. he continues to slur things to you that you can’t understand, but you know it’s something along the lines of “i’m so happy to see you.” and “don’t think you’re running from these shots.”

jisung doesn’t understand what he’s saying either, and the two of you make eye contact before he pats changbin’s back to put you back down in the ground.

“happy birthday!” the two of you yell in unison. ah, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. he was always so sweet to you, and in this moment as you and jisung congratulate him on another year of life, you heart is warm seeing the genuine smile on his face.

“thank you, love.” he slurs once more. “you know, you were always my favorite. my favorite girlfriend that is. smart, gorgeous, and actually fun.” the music seems as if it’s gotten even louder, but you hear him loud and clear.

now you’re the one smiling. “thank you. i got you a lot of gifts, but the rest of them I need you to open sober. here’s one you can have now.” you see jisung’s panic as you hand his bandmate a little bottle of hennessy. you know the second either you two walk away or changbin does, that he’s going to cuss you out for not telling him you brought a gift. “from me and jisung.” you add with a potent smirk on your face. you see him exhale beside you, and here you are again holding in your damn laugh.

“now y/n…you know you have to take a shot with me, right? thank…thank you.” all of a sudden there’s a hand on changbin’s shoulder, and she’s pulling him back towards where the bedrooms are. you make your false promises knowing he won’t even remember you’re here soon.

“you owe me two, han jisung.” you twirl to face him now.

“yeah, whatever. look, as always I’ll look out for you, but I can’t lie it’s time for me to put some shots in my body and find me something to lick on…for later.”

“ew! you’re like…fifteen.”

“i’m literally twenty-two?” he blinks repeatedly.

“whatever. i’m going to the bathroom.”

and you’re off. you see a couple of familiar faces on what should be a short journey to the restroom, but isn’t due to how crowded the this place is. your heart is racing, fearing that you’ll say excuse me to someone, and they’ll turn around just for it to be hyunjin. you planned this out so well in your head, just to be shaking in your boots now…literally. your feet hurt even more then they did ten minutes ago.

you finally make it to the restroom after what feels like forever. you’re afraid to even go in there, terrified about who you may see partaking in adults activities and not wanting to argue with someone who was hogging the room just because they hate parties. you hate those kind of people.

you knock—nothing. you knock again—nothing. you can barely stand now because you genuinely have to pee, and maybe there is someone in there, and they are responding— you just can’t hear them, but fuck it. you open the door quickly, closing it just as fast so a creep doesn’t try to slide in here with you. you’re about to run to the toilet when you notice someone very familiar sitting on the floor with his face buried in his hands. no fucking way. no way.

he looks up at you, his eyes irritated at first from being intruded on. he probably did say someone was in here. but the second he sees you, his eyes widen. it’s as if he’s seen a ghost.

“y/n…y/n?”

you haven’t heard him say your name in a year. you haven’t heard his voice. you don’t know how you’re still standing considering the fact that you’re having a stare down with the love of your life. you know your eyes are softening as you continue to make eye contact with him. he’s still so…beautiful. how was it possible that he has become even more attractive, even with his eyes slightly red. had he been crying?

snap out of it, y/n!

just as quick as all of the memories begin to run through your head, you turn the movie off, pulling down your shorts and panties. “move, hyunjin.” is all you say, quickly sitting down on the toilet and emptying your bladder. he scoots ever so slightly, eyes still burning holes into you even as you pee loudly and your eyes look straight forward now.

this isn’t happening right now, is it?

authors note: part two coming soon…🤝🏽 I wanted to make this one big story but I said … that’s going to take too long to finish hehe. i hope you guys liked this.

© 2023 moonlightdreamzz. no one has permission to steal my work in any way, shape, or form.

[pascallftv]

Girl Next Door— Part 6

Previous Part Series Masterlist

Summary: Your dad discovers you and Joel.

Word count: 5.1k

Content: Lots of swearing, arguments, threats

AN: The final part :’) thank you so so much for reading. Writing a series was a new experience for me and it makes my heart so happy to see you all enjoying my writing. Goodbye for now <3

The day finally came. A couple weeks from the first time you and Joel had sex, your father was home. It was easy to act normal when it was just you and your dad together. You could distract yourself from Joel when he wasn’t present. You filled your father in on all the things you’d done when he was gone, being sure to leave out the details of you and Joel’s intimacy.

Your bathroom was coming along amazing. Joel did an unbelievable job at turning your vision into reality. The dark green tiles and grout were exactly as you pictured, and the black and white checkered floor added the dimension to the room that you were searching for. Joel would be working on the finishing touches in the next few days. While you were excited to have your bathroom again, you felt gutted.

With Joel’s job finished, it would be impossible to see him as much as you wanted with your father home. Of course you could spend all the time you wanted together when your dad was gone, it still felt like a chapter was closing. The dynamic was so much different having your dad home. You and Joel were still just as infatuated with each other as ever, but it made things difficult when all you wanted to do was spend time with each other but couldn’t.

“I have an idea.” Your dad had said when he came home.

You were both sitting on the porch in the warm summer air. You’d been catching up on the past few weeks of each other’s lives. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your father. It sent a pang through your chest when you thought about the secrets you were hiding from him, but it was all you could do. You longed to be open to him about Joel, but you knew that was impossible to do without ruining everything.

“And what’s that?” You smiled, cocking your head to look at your father through your black sunglasses. The sun was extra bright that day, your skin hot under its rays. You felt like a baby chicken under a heat lamp.

“I was thinking we could have Joel over tonight. Drink some beers, celebrate him finishing up your bathroom.” He suggested, taking a swig of the beer he was already working on. He wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, but when he was home, he did enjoy drinking some cold beers while relaxing from his work.

Your stomach did a flip. You hadn’t really spent time with Joel in the last couple of days. You’d caught him a couple times when he was over to work on your bathroom, sneaking some kisses while you took your breaks. You felt like a couple of teenagers sneaking around like it was some sort of Romeo and Juliet love story. A forbidden love trope was a genre you enjoyed reading, but not something you wanted in your real life.

“I think that would be nice.” You smiled, tapping your fingers against the patio chair arm, looking off into the distance at the pond and field in the backyard. It was so peaceful, free spirited.

“Perfect. I’ll shoot him a text.” Your dad said, pulling his phone out and quickly typing a text to send to Joel.

You turned your head to look off towards Joel’s house, noticing his brown truck parked in his driveway, it appearing as more of a blob from this distance. Your mind flickered back to the night you first had sex, the steamy memories shooting immediately to your core. You cleared your throat and adjusted in your seat at the discomfort between your legs. Now was certainly not the time to be feeling like this.

“Y’alright, bear?” Your father asked, looking at you with a look of confusion.

“Oh I’m good, just fighting some swamp ass over here.” You lied with a chuckle. “Goddamn hot sun. You know how it goes.”

Your dad bellowed out a laugh, shaking his head and taking another drink of his beer. “Fuck, I know too much. God, when the sweat starts dripping down your back and then starts weaving through your ass hairs like a pinball—“

“Okay, Dad. That’s enough.” You laughed, standing up from your chair.

“I am going to take a shower.” You said, walking over to him and kissing him on the top of his head. “Holler for me if you need me.”

Your shower consisted of you fantasizing about Joel once again. It was probably unhealthy at how much that man consumed your every thought, but you couldn’t help it. What your brain couldn’t seem to shake off was the possibility of loving Joel. Sure, you’d only been close to him for a little over a month now, but you’ve never felt this way about someone before. Everything felt so incredibly natural and right with him. You craved his presence at all times, his touch and laugh being your two favorite things; two things that you’d grown accustomed to. Now that you weren’t together near as much, you were going through withdrawals.

You felt so weak. You knew you shouldn’t have depended so heavily on someone else to bring you happiness, but you couldn’t help it. He consumed you entirely and you couldn’t shake him.

The evening approached rapidly and you were now sitting on the couch waiting for Joel to arrive. You were growing incredibly impatient— you missed him so much, you were astounded at your own desperation. You felt like you were drowning, his touch and voice acting as your oxygen; without it, you couldn’t breathe and function properly. At the thought of him, you felt electrified.

You had already downed your first beer and you were working on your second. You didn’t want to get too tipsy. You didn’t trust yourself with concealing your feelings when you drank too much, so it certainly wasn’t an option for you to risk it with Joel and your dad in the same room.

You were mid swig when Joel walked in the front door, a six pack of beer bottles in his hand, his veins protruding. It was like you were like a vampire; his veins looked so delectable. His gaze locked on you immediately as he kicked off his shoes. He looked around, not catching sight of your dad yet, so he made his way over to you. He sat the beer on the coffee table and leaned over you, taking your face in his hands, kissing you with desperation. He evidently missed you just as much. The sound of the porch sliding glass door opening made Joel break away from you in a panic, retrieving the case of beer off the table. He walked away from you, leaving you a disheveled mess on the sofa. He wandered into the kitchen, finding your dad with a beer of his own in his hand.

“Thought I heard you pull in.” Your dad exclaimed, pulling Joel in for a hug, patting his back. He glanced down at the beer in Joel’s hand and grinned harder. “Yuengling, you know me so well. You better be sharing, Miller.”

“Consider me open to a trade.” Joel smiled, walking over to the fridge, placing the case inside before grabbing a bottle of his own.

Your dad leaned against the kitchen island, pulling his beer opener out of his pocket before tossing it to Joel. Joel caught it with ease, opening his beer casually. He tossed the opener back to your dad, then took a big swig of his beer.

“She’s been talking real highly of you.” Your dad said, half grinning at Joel. Joel cocked his head, swallowing the malty taste of beer on his tongue. “Says you’re doing a great job on the remodel.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Joel said, tilting his bottle towards your dad before bringing it back up to his lips.

“Talking about me?” You said, entering the kitchen.

“Only bad things.” Your dad teased, rubbing your head with his palm, making a messy of your hair.

“Dad!” You exclaimed, swatting his hand away, fixing your hair immediately. Joel watched the interaction with an amused expression playing across his facial features.

“Was just telling Joel about the amazing job he’s doing on your bathroom.” Your dad clarified, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Told him he probably needed a hazmat suit to get rid of that old toilet. Lord only knows the nuclear materials you unloaded in that thing.”

“Dad, what the fuck?” You groaned, pushing him off of you. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He had to have been at least four beers deep at this point. Joel laughed, his eyes lighting up when he made eye contact with you. You fought a smile back, shaking your head.

“Oh, bear. You always take jokes so seriously.” Your dad grumbled dramatically.

“Crack open another beer, see if you can keep up.” Your dad said to you, squeezing your shoulder with his hand. “Joel, come in here so I can AirPlay this fucking picture I took on the TV.”

Your jaw fell in disbelief. Yeah, your dad was definitely feeling goofy from the alcohol. He left the room in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen.

“Holy fucking god.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “I am so sorry about him, he’s a fucking idiot—”

Joel cut you off by walking towards you and pressing his lips to yours, his hand reaching up to grab the flesh of your breast through your tank top. God, he loved when you didn’t wear a bra. He pulled away from your mouth, kissing you on the forehead.

“S’okay, darlin’.” Joel said quietly. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You whispered, your hand reaching up to his jaw, tracing the outline of it with your forefinger.

You snapped out of the sentimental moment at the sound of your father’s bellowing laughter from the living room.

“Fucking hell!” He exclaimed through his laugh. “Joel, come here!”

Joel laughed, patting you on the behind before leaving the room to see what your father had cooked up on the TV. You shook your head in amusement and made your way to the fridge, grabbing one of the beers Joel had brought over. You wandered out of the kitchen, your eyes widening at the sight of another trucker’s dick on the screen as he pissed on the tire of a semi.

“Dad?!” You bursted out, rushing over to the couch to grab his phone out of his hand, turning off his AirPlay. Joel’s jaw was practically on the floor, his eyes slowly panning over to your father.

“Holy shit, I can’t breathe.” He said through his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I hear something out of the corner of my ear, so Iooked out the window— and fuck, this guy is just fully cock out pissing.”

“So you took a picture of an unsuspecting man’s dick?” You said, tossing his phone back in his lap, just inches away from hitting him in the crotch.

“Naturally, yes.” Your dad responds, catching his breath when he finally calms down his laughter.

“Phew, have a seat, bear. Joel doesn’t bite.” Your dad gestured towards the open cushion between them. “Let’s watch a movie.”

You glanced over to Joel, a smirk playing across his lips as he sipped his beer. Oh he bites alright.

You obliged, wandering over to sit down between them. Biased, you sat a couple inches closer to Joel, your thighs nearly touching, but far enough away so that it wouldn’t raise any red flags for your father. Your father tossed you the bottle opener. You opened your bottle before tossing it right back to him.

“A-ha! Let’s watch Stepbrothers. Such a classic.” Your dad exclaimed, throwing his hands up in delight as he pressed play on the movie.

You raised your brows at him, then turned your attention to Joel who was already looking at you. The corners of his lips were tugging up in a playful grin. He glanced around you to make sure your father was locked on the movie before squeezing your thigh quickly. He leaned over to your ear, his hot breath fanning over you, sending chills down your spine.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered in your ear, quiet enough to where you could barely make out what he said. “When you finish that beer, meet me in the kitchen.”

You spent the next fifteen minutes of the movie trying to drink your beer. You downed it slow enough to feel sick, but fast enough in pure desperation for what Joel was hinting at. When you finally finished your bottle, you sighed before looking at it.

“I need another beer.” You announced, pushing yourself off the couch. You held your empty hand out in front of your father. “Opener?”

“So needy.” He grumbled, setting it in your palm, craning his head around you to try and keep his eyes locked on the movie.

“I’ll come too.” Joel said, standing up with you and walking around you to the kitchen, his fingers brushing your wrist, sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Grab me one!” Your dad calls after him. You ducked out of his sight and followed Joel into the kitchen.

Joel reached into the fridge, grabbing three more Yuenglings in one of his hands. It was casual things like that that he made so sexy. You loved how big his hands were, and you loved them even more wrapped around your throat. He sat them down on the counter, then turned around to lean his lower back against the counter, looking down at you with his big brown irises.

You walked up to him, running your hands from his abdomen up to his warm chest. He looked so good in that black t-shirt. His smell was intoxicating— the woodsy scent was your favorite. He smirked down at you, reaching to brush your hair behind your ear. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, his hands raking through the hair at the back of your head. His tongue slipped past your lips, licking your teeth. You both tasted the zippy flavor of beer as your tongues danced with each other. Joel’s empty hand snaked down the expanse of your back to your behind, squeezing the flesh there under your thin shorts.

“Make sure you grab me a Yuengling—” Your dad’s voice entered the kitchen. “What the fuck?!”

You jolted off of Joel, wiping your lips frantically. The beer in your dad’s hand fell from his grasp, shattering in a loud collision with the granite flooring. His jaw was slack, pure shock ridden on his face.

“Dad, I—”

“I swear to fucking god.” Your dad snarled angrily. He strode towards Joel, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, getting centimeters from his face.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled. “What gave you the audacity to lay a finger on my daughter? You fucking pervert!”

You watched in horror as your dad reared back a fist, ready to punch Joel right in the jaw.

“Dad, stop!” You screamed, bounding towards him and pushing him off of Joel.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Your father snapped at you. “Are you kidding me?”

“Lionel, it’s not what you—”

“You’d shut the fuck up if you knew what was good for you, Miller.” Your father interrupted him, his tone laced with venom. “You’re lucky I don’t beat your ass into a fucking pulp.”

Joel swallowed hard as your dad got in his face again. If looks could kill, Joel would’ve already been dead. You’ve never seen your father this pissed before in your life.

“I leave for five weeks and I come back to my fucking best friend’s tongue down my daughter’s throat.” He scoffed. “I don’t even want to fucking picture where else it’s been.”

“You,” your father poked Joel’s chest, “fucking disgust me.”

Your heart sank. Your hands were shaking as the scene unfolded in front of you. Your eyes were brimming hot with tears that threatened to fall at any second. Joel’s expression remained stoic, his knuckles white at his grip on the edge of the island countertop.

“If I had nothing to lose, you’d be a dead man.” Your father seethed with anger.

“Get the fuck out of my sight before I break all four of your limbs.” Your father threatened. Joel gulped. “You are to finish that fucking bathroom, but when you’re finished, I am to never see you again.”

“And you.” Your father turned to you. His face was the color of a chili pepper. “You better pray to fucking god that I don’t kick you out of this goddamn house. You are to work from your room, and so help me god you are to never see him again. You understand me?”

Tears flooded from your eyes, your lips quivering. You were absolutely broken. Your eyes flickered to Joel, his expression pained and defeated.

“Y-you don’t understand.” You hiccuped. “Dad, please just let us explain—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He snarled. “Go to your room. Now.”

You felt like a fucking child again with the orders being barked at you by your father. You felt so small in that room, your body on fire with embarrassment and guilt. You’d imagined your father’s reaction to the both of you to be sour, but you truly underestimated him. You’d never seen him overcome with that much anger— he was borderline murderous and you were terrified. You couldn’t bear to look at Joel again, so you turned on your heel and darted out of the room, running up the stairs to your room. You were like a toddler who had been banished to their room in timeout.

You fell onto your bed, the sobs hitting you with full force. Your entire body shook as you cried out, the tears streaming from your eyes. You were completely and utterly broken.

The week dragged on painfully slow. You spent most of your days hardly able to focus on your work. Anytime you let your mind wander, you got flashbacks to that night in the kitchen, the disgusted look on your father’s face as he looked at you with pure disappointment. You and your father had always been so close, and now it felt like your relationship was tarnished forever. Between your ruined relationship with your father and losing Joel, you felt destroyed.

You hadn’t seen Joel since the altercation. He’d finished the bathroom a couple days prior, working in a rush. You worked in your room, only leaving to use the guest bathroom and eat occasionally downstairs. Even on your restroom breaks, you couldn’t bear to sneak a peek of Joel. It would be too painful for you. You wanted to give in and go and kiss him. To tell him that everything would be okay and you’d be able to go back to normal. But that couldn’t happen.

With your bathroom finally finished, you clocked out of work for the day, and went to scope it out. In all honesty, you’d been too broken to even step foot in your new bathroom. You knew if you went in there, all you’d be reminded of was Joel. You’d be smacked with reality if you saw it, and you’d realize the job was completed and you’d have no excuse to ever see Joel again.

You needed to shower, and you knew it was time you utilized your new bathroom. It crushed your soul more to know that Joel spent so much time perfecting your vision just for you to not use and appreciate it.

You walked cautiously through your bedroom towards the bathroom door. You inhaled deeply as you reached out to grasp the cold metal of the door knob. You mustered up the courage to open the door, the bathroom absolutely breathtaking in front of you. The tiles were dark green, the floor black and white checkered. The sink and toilet were a beautiful matte black, the faucets a gorgeous shade of gold. It was absolutely perfect. You felt your lip quiver as you began to tear up.

On the sink was a folded piece of paper. On top of it was a messy heart. You frowned as you walked towards the sink, taking the piece of paper in your hand. You slowly unfolded it, revealing Joel’s handwriting.

I hope it’s as beautiful as you envisioned. I wish I could’ve seen your reaction. Don’t be a stranger. -J

A pang shot through your heart. At his handwritten words, your gut felt hollow as you realized you had your camcorder filled with videos of the process of the remodel. You were in much too fragile of a state to watch it now, but you knew you’d watch them eventually.

That’s when you began to sob again. Your body shook as you cried. You didn’t hold back, letting the sadness completely consume you. You turned on the shower, turning the heat as hot as you could stand it. You stripped off your clothing, leaving yourself naked in front of your mirror. Your eyes scanned your bare body. You got flashbacks to each and every memory of the gentle way Joel would touch you. The way he’d softly squeeze your breasts, the way he’d ghost kisses down the skin of your neck. You cried harder, taking in your bloodshot eyes and the bags under your eyes. You looked as defeated as you felt.

You were laying on your bed that weekend, you back flat against your mattress. Your mind was numb, your body exhausted. Your eyes were sunken in and lifeless. You’d gone from being the happiest you’d ever been to completely soul crushed.

Suddenly, you weren’t sure what overcame you, but you were feeling rebellious. A realization fell over you; you could sit here miserable at the turn of events you’d faced, or you could take a risk and try to talk some sense into your father. You could risk it and it work and hope Joel and your father reconcile, or you could move on and always wonder what could have been.

Your body was a zombie going through the motions and you walked down the stairs. Your father wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, but you spotted his figure sitting facing away from you on the back porch. It was sunset, the beautiful shades of pink and orange waging the war of peace in your mind. Your father had a bottle of water in his hand. He hadn’t touched a beer since the night everything went down.

You took a deep breath and your hand grabbed the handle to the patio door, slowly opening it. Your father’s head turned to the side at the sound, but turned back to the front just as quick. His fist was gripping the arm of his chair, his foot tapping against the cement of the patio.

You silently sat in the chair next to him, your feet flat on the ground, your hands resting on the arms of your chair. You pursed your lips, staring off into the horizon. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“You’ve always been my favorite person. My idol.” You began, your voice shaking as you spoke. “I always wanted to please you. The sheer thought of disappointing you broke my heart.”

You kept your eyes forward, but you felt your father’s eyes on the side of your face.

“These past few weeks have been some of the happiest of my life. I haven’t felt butterflies since high school, but there I went, feeling them again.” You shakily took a deep breath, feeling tears form in your eyes. “Dad, I can’t expect you to understand what I am feeling. What Joel is feeling. But I need you to understand that I have never felt like this about someone.”

You glanced over at him, your vision cloudy with tears. Your father was frowning, his own eyes blurring with hot tears. You turned your gaze to your lap, finding your fingers there, toying with each other as a distraction.

“I can’t expect you to be okay with it. But, what I can expect from you is to try and understand. I know it’s fucking bizarre for you, but I need you to try and see things from my perspective. Dad, I—” you paused, sniffling.

“I love him.” You admitted, staring off at the sun setting over the field in front of you. “I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. I’m not the best at describing how I feel, but I feel so incredibly happy and authentically myself with him. He’s everything I could ever want; he’s so kind to me, Dad. He makes me feel so beautiful and loved. He makes me feel so goddamn important.”

A tear rolled down your father’s cheek as you spoke. He swallowed the lump in his throat, closing his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“I’m not a kid anymore. I know this is still your house and you’re so gracious to let me stay here while I figure my shit out, but I want you to allow me to be my happiest and not hold me back. I need you to give us a chance. If he hurts me, that’s my fault. But that’s my choice to make, not yours. I can’t expect you to understand what we have, but I can expect you to let me do what will make me happy.”

You hiccuped back a sob as you finished your speech, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your sweatpants. You wiped the tears from your cheeks that spilled as you talked.

Your father stayed silent for a moment, fully comprehending your words.

“Okay.” He said plainly. Your eyes snapped over to him. He was looking up at you with sad, but hopeful eyes. The slightest ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He reached his hand up to wipe away his tears with the palm of his hand.

“Okay?” You repeated, standing up from your chair, walking over to him, watching him for a second.

“Okay.” He repeated. “I don’t understand what’s happening between the two of you, but like you said, that’s none of my business. It’s not my decision to choose who you spend your time on. I just want what’s best for you, bear.”

You cried as you bent down and hugged him, pulling him forward from the back of the chair. He dropped his water bottle, hugging you back as tight as he could.

“I’m so sorry.” He cried. “I love you so much. I thought I lost you.”

You sobbed into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

“I love you.”

You pulled away from him, taking in his watery eyes. He reached up, wiping the pad of his thumb across his cheek to wipe away the tear stains.

“Go on.” He muttered. “Go see him.”

You brows taught together and you sniffled.

“I’ll have a conversation with him eventually. But for now, it’s important you go make sure you’re okay.” Your dad said softly, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rushing back towards the house, opening the patio door faster than you ever had. You scooped your keys up off the hook in the foyer and didn’t even bother putting shoes on. You ran out to your car in the driveway, not missing a beat to rev up the engine and throw it into reverse. That was the fastest you’d ever driven to Joel’s house.

You pulled into the driveway, parking behind Joel’s brown truck. You threw the car into park and hastily unbuckled your seatbelt, throwing the door open. You climbed out, slamming the door before running across the lawn and up the stairs to his front door. You were panting as you knocked on the door rapidly, only breaking to ring the doorbell.

The door swung open to Joel. He was disheveled, his eyes lifeless and sunken in. His hair was messy and unkempt. His eyes softened at the sight of you and your emotional state. Taking him by surprise, you rushed up to him, throwing your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest.

“Baby.” He said quietly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight against him. He rested his chin on the top of your head, breathing in your sweet scent that he missed so much.

“I love you.” You blurted into the fabric of his shirt.

“What?” Joel said, pulling away from you, not sure if he heard you correctly.

“I love you, Joel Miller.” You gazed up at him. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You grabbed his face in your hands, taking in every square inch of his face. He parted his lips in disbelief. He didn’t speak, just stared back at you as if you’d just said the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

He still didn’t respond, but laced his fingers into the soft locks of your hair to pull you into a desperate kiss, his eyes squeezing shut as he tasted you. God, he missed you so much. Your lips moved in sync, your hands tugging at the hair at the base of his neck. The kiss was fast and hungry, but it was filled with every ounce of emotion you felt towards each other.

Joel pulled away, grabbing your cheeks in his large palms, watching the way you stared up at him with pure adoration.

“I love you.” He said. “I love you so fucking much.”

He kissed you again, this time slower, his lips moving so passionately against yours. He pulled your body closer to him, his breath warm through his nose. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip but didn’t breach past. He was savoring the taste of you.

He pulled away, his eyes searching your face.

“I talked to my dad. H-he’s still unsure but he’s giving us a chance.” You said, wrapping your arms around Joel, pulling him in for another hug. You missed how safe he felt. “He wants to talk to you eventually.”

“I— wow.” Joel breathed out, pulling you tighter to him chest, running his hand through your hair.

“I thought you would never want to see me again.” You muttered, squeezing his back with your hands.

“That’s the last thing I’d want, sweetheart. I thought the same for you.”

“You’re never getting rid of me, Joel.” You said, lifting yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again. His hands ran over the expanse of your back, whining into your mouth.

He pulled away, taking your face in his hands again, admiring your beauty, admiring that here you were in his arms.

“I love you.”

And in that moment, you both knew everything was going to be okay.

taglist— @ghostwritesthings, @magpiepills, @laurrrra, @brittmb115, @kaislashes, @smccul

[ccfever]

caitlin flopped down in the middle of the bed. yes one bed with your hot friend you have a crush on is probably not the best idea but the hotel was already expensive and you refused to let caitlin pay for everything like she insisted

“i can’t believe this fancy hotel doesn’t have massages. i swear it said they had on the website” caitlin sighed, she was really looking forward to the post-plane massage

“i’ll give you a massage”

“right now?” you were surprised that she was taking you up on your offer, shes normally very reserved

“yeah. take your clothes off” you paused “i think that’s how massages are supposed to be done”

you averted your eyes as she took her clothes off in an attempt to be respectful of your friendship. you were both single. she knew you were bi and you knew she was ‘sexually open’ (but didn’t speak on it publicly because she didn’t need people knowing her private business) so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could hook up this week but she’s never responded to your flirting in a manner other than friendly, so you wanted to respect her boundaries

“on my back or on my front?” she kept her underwear and bra on. there’s the reserved caitlin you knew

“i’ll get your shoulders first. lie down on your stomach” you allowed yourself to look at her body as she laid down. you’re a thighs girl through and through but those arms and abs are impossible to ignore. caitlin surprised you by unhooking her bra, lifting her chest a bit, lowering the straps off her arms, and throwing her bra off the bed. but you weren’t going to complain about a pretty girl taking her bra off in front of you. you placed your legs over her hips to get in a good position and started to massage her shoulders. she let out a loud satisfied groan. fuck. you were already wet one second in

“i’m so tense i really needed this” you continued to work on her strong shoulders while trying to contain your arousal. the soft moans and sweet whimpers she made were insanely hot and it was already difficult to focus. you moved down to her back. you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable so you kept your hands away from her side boob. she seemed to sense your hesitancy

“just really manhandle me. go as hard as you can” you placed your hands on her back and let your fingers graze her side boob. she didn’t object so you continued to work on her back. again with the soft moans and sweet whimpers. as you got to the bottom of her back, you considered whether you should massage over or under her underwear. you decided over just to make sure she was comfortable. she squeaked when you put your hands on her ass

“is this ok?”

“yeah of course. i was just a little surprised. keep going. please” the bit of desperation in her voice turned you on even more. you continued to work on her ass as you scooted down her body to get in a better position. you breathe in a little as you finally put your hands on her thighs. they’re so muscular and would look amazing on top of your shoulders. you pulled her legs apart to get more leverage and you couldn’t help but notice there was a wet spot on her underwear. fuck. you smiled to yourself. if the only thing that happens between you and caitlin is that you made her wet by having your hands all over her, you would be happy with that. more soft moans and sweet whimpers. you held back your own moans as you, a thigh girl, massaged the most gorgeous girl’s gorgeous thighs. you took your time on her thighs, you were enjoying yourself and she’ll stop you when she’s ready. the moans became less soft and caitlin eventually put her hands on yours to stop their movements

“can you do my front now?” she sounded a little desperate as if she was trying hard not to expose that she was turned on

“yeah. turn over” she turned over, exposing her tits and abs to you. you quickly put your eyes on her pretty face so she wouldn’t see you taking in her body. she put her hands up to cover her chest. you smoothed her shiny hair down and examined her flushed cheeks. she looked amazing under you and you could easily see yourself being on top of her again and again

“is this helping you? are you less tense now?” you had to say something so you wouldn’t kiss her and potentially make things weird

“yes this feels amazing”

“let me get your tits” you said softly as you pushed some stray hair behind her ear “you’ve been working so hard all season, you deserve a full body massage”

“nah you can skip them. they’re small they don’t need any attention”

“small and cute and perfect. they deserve all the attention” she rolled her eyes but gave you a cute little smile. you moved your hands from her beautiful face down to her chest, nudging her hands off her tits and replacing them with yours. you massaged her tits and rubbed your thumbs over her nipples. her eyes closed and her mouth opened slightly. you could see her damn tongue that she was always sticking out but never putting it where it belongs (your mouth). soft moans and sweet whimpers left her mouth again. eventually you moved your hands off her tits and down her abs. they were so tight and toned she must do crunches constantly. your looked up at her face. she seemed to be enjoying herself so you decided to be brave and dip your fingers below her underwear waistline as you rubbed your thumb in circles around her bellybutton. she raised her eyebrows but didn’t object to your hand placement. you took your hand out of her underwear and once again separated her legs. did the wet spot get bigger? fuck. instead of starting at the top of her thighs, you decided to tease her and start at her knee

you put both of your hands on her right thigh, massaging up as slowly as possible. god her legs are stunning. the higher your hands got the louder her moans got. when you eventually got to the top of her thigh you slowed down even more and ‘accidentally’ grazed the wet spot with your fingers. she let out a particularly loud moan so you moved your hands to just above her left knee. you laughed a little to yourself at her frustrated face and obvious irritation but you knew the payoff to the teasing would be worth it. as you moved your hands up her thigh as slow as possible, her soft moans got louder and her sweet whimpers became more needy. you once again ‘accidentally’ grazed the wet spot when you got to the top of her thigh. she let out a long moan and made a face that was clear she was thinking. you ran your fingers over the wet spot again. she grabbed your hands with her right hand and the back of your neck with her left hand. she pulled you down to her with her left hand and finally puts her tongue where it belongs (your mouth)

😋😋😋😋😋😋

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Forgotten sons, Forgotten dates, Eddie coming to your rescue & Florence.

Masterlist Listen to Disarm Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:8554 beta'd by @superblysubpar

The slow roll of red and blue lights reflects on the big picture window in your living room, casting a glare across the TV screen. Shifting from your stomach, your head turns to meet the anxious expressions worn by your parents. The handful of popcorn you were holding falls to the beige-colored carpet where you’d been sprawled. 

‘Honey…” your dad’s concerned voice cautions, but it’s too late. You are on your feet, greasy fingerprints transferred to your flannel pajama pants as you walk straight toward the door.

“Honey, don’t. It’s not our business.”

As the door swings open, a gust of frigid November air washes over you. Your bare feet meet an icy sting from the frozen boards of your porch. The staticky voices from police radios crackle through the cold night air, their words blending into an indecipherable hum as they float down the street. The wood underneath your feet turns to the scrape of cement as you leave the warm safety of your home and run down the rain-washed street towards the ambulances and police cruisers. Fallen red and yellow leaves stick to the pavement, their colors vivid in the flashing lights reflecting off the wet road.

Time stretches like a rubber band, lengthening each moment. People in uniforms hurry past, paying you no attention as you call out his name. The smell of damp earth mixes with the acrid scent of diesel from the idling vehicles. Bright lights from inside the house spill out into the dark from the open front door.

“Eddie,” you cry out again as a hand closes over your elbow, tugging you back.

“You can’t be here.”

You struggle, attempting to break free from the policeman's grip as he pulls you away. Your head turns, and your eyes finally find his. Frightened doe eyes peer back from a pale face tinged with blue. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, he looks much smaller, like the world has pressed its full weight down on him. The gray blanket covering his shoulder doesn’t protect him from the shattering of the only life he knows. 

“Eddie,” you whisper his name, your voice trembling. He tries to stand, shrugging off the woolen blanket, his hand reaching out as the EMT seals the doors. The ambulance roars to life and speeds away, leaving you alone with the taste of salt from your tears mingling with the cold, crisp air. A gurney rolls past, bearing a figure lying motionless beneath a white sheet. Only a portion of her face is visible, her features obscured by a patchwork of black and blues, her dark hair falling to the side like a shroud.

"I've got her."

Your dad's strong voice breaks through the chaos as he sweeps you up from the policeman's grip. He holds you close, carrying you away like he did when you were much younger, your face buried in his shoulder, tears dampening the fabric of his jacket. The world blurs as his steps bring you closer to home. You cry for the boy who will face the rest of this world alone.

“Egg-white omelet with tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. No spinach. And I’ll have a side of bacon, very crispy but not blackened,” Nancy says, handing her menu to the waiter before shifting her eyes toward you. 

“Two eggs over easy, please–avocado toast and the fruit salad.”

“I’ll do the brioche french toast with the salted caramel and bananas. And extra whipped cream, please. Oh, and a side of sausage links.”

“What?” Robin asks after the waiter has left. “I’m hungry.”

“We just worked out,” Nancy scolds. 

“I did hot yoga. I need to replenish,” Robin explains, raising a mug of tea to her lips.

After moving here, a night out always ended with breakfast at The Friendly Toast, welcoming the sun as it rose over the city. As habits and routines changed, it evolved into a standing brunch for just the ladies after morning gym sessions. The diner’s retro black and white flooring and red vinyl upholstered seating still bears the same traces of syrup as it did all those years ago, but the food is good, and the wait is never long. 

"Was it the hot yoga or you're Saturday night with Taylor," you tease, earning a dreamy smile from a pink-cheeked Robin. 

"Yoga actually wasn't that hot this morning," Robin admits, biting her lip, reaching for the creamer pitcher at the center of the Formica table.

Now that you all have a bit more cash to spare, Nancy leans towards the idea of brunching in a bougier spot in your shared Gold Coast neighborhood, but Robin is a stickler for traditions. The charm of Nancy Sinatra playing over the speakers and the selection of boozy milkshakes are what win your vote. 

The food arrives quickly this morning. “Three hot plates for three hot ladies,” the waiter winks as he delivers generous portions on the ceramic oval plates. The smoky scent of bacon mixed with the sweetness of caramel. He pulls a silver canister from his apron pocket, giving Robin’s dish an extra squirt of whipped cream.

“Oh, he’s getting a very good tip,” Robin says, placing her napkin in her lap.

Laughing, you pick up your fork and break the yolk, letting the soft yellow drip onto the smashed avocado. Nancy rolls her eyes and picks up her beeping phone. 

"No phones," Robin chides around a mouth full of French toast.

"Sorry," Nancy says, tapping out a quick reply before placing her phone face down on the table, "My brother is driving everyone crazy.” She unwraps her silverware before continuing, “He wants us all to come to Florida for Christmas since it will be the first one in their new house, but Hawkins is so much easier for everyone. Holly is still in school, and Jonathan doesn’t want to take that much time off from work.”

“Sounds like Steve.” Your eyebrow lifts as you take a bite.

“Steve only works so hard because he wants to take care of you,” Robin says, pointing her fork in your direction.

“He adores you,” Nancy agrees, “You're lucky.”

“I know.” You pick at your eggs. It’s moments like this that make it clear they’ll always be Steve’s friends first. 

“Did you get the Bulls tickets for his birthday?” Nancy asks, before picking up a piece of bacon with her fingers and biting into it with an audible crunch.

“I ordered them last week,” you tell her, taking a bite of pineapple.

“I hope you got extra,” Robin says, dabbing some whipped cream from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. 

“You're not thinking of going now?” Nancy looks at her, surprised.

“No. Not for me,” Robin says, waving her off, “I’m sure he’ll want to invite Eddie now that he’s back in town.”

You sit up straighter in your chair, just the mention of Eddie's name has tension rippling down your spine. “I got him six tickets. He’ll have three extra to invite whoever he wants,” you say, settling the matter.

“Let me know how much I owe you for me and Jonathan,” Nancy tells you.

“I got it,” you assure her, “Just buy him a foam finger or something.”

“It’s his birthday. You’re really not going?” Robin prods, her voice carrying a note of judgment.

“Not if I can help it. You know I don’t like sports.” It's the same answer as the first time she brought it up, a few weeks ago. “He’ll have more fun with people who appreciate it. I’ll celebrate with him when we’re alone.”

“Say no more,” Nancy says, raising her hands as she looks down at her plate.

“Come on, Nance,” Robin laughs, “You used to celebrate with him in the exact same way.”

“Robin,” Nancy whispers through clenched teeth, darting her eyes toward you.

“I don’t care, Nance. It’s ancient history,” you chuckle. Steve’s high school relationship with her ended with a lot of heartache, but they obviously weren’t right for each other. The friendship that they share today is different from his and Robin's. She understands the pressure that he's under. 

“I’ve always wanted to know,” Robin says, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Who is better, Steve or Jonathan?”

“Don’t answer that,” you chuckle, patting Nancy’s hand as her face cycles through several shades of pink. 

“I won’t,” she glares at Robin. “Oh, wait. I don’t owe you,” she says, turning back to you and shifting the conversation, “You owe me. I can’t believe you scooped us on Eddie’s studio opening.”

Sighing heavily, you fill your mouth with a big bite of your breakfast, but the taste is off now. This story is a relentless storm cloud, always hovering, disrupting the peace. He's only been here a week and here's another argument. Hurricane Eddie. He must be pleased, relishing the storm he's brought into your life.

“Spectrum doesn’t even write about music,” Robin points out with a slice of banana at the end of her fork.

“It would have been a great piece for Chicago Lifestyles. We even could have hyped it up on an episode of Chronicle,” she complains, mentioning the human interest show that Spectrum runs profiling things happening in the city. “I’m the one that organized his welcome night, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Don’t look at me." You raise your hands in front of you. 

“Why did he tell you and not me that he was moving here?” Robin adds her own touch of gripping. “I should have been in charge of that.”

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Nancy tells her, “You’ve never been able to keep a secret.”

“But you’re very pretty,” you chuckle, diffusing the situation.

“Thank you. I am,” she responds, swirling her last bite in caramel before popping it into her mouth.

Your laughter blends with the background din of conversation and the gentle clinking of silverware as you savor the last bites of your meal. When the check arrives, Nancy insists on covering the bill, urging you to put your share toward the cost of Steve's tickets, and Robin leaves behind the promised very generous tip. With your plates cleared and goodbyes exchanged, the three of you leave the crowded restaurant.

As you trail behind Robin and Nancy, your phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. Fumbling through the pockets of the jacket you're carrying, you step out onto the bustling sidewalk, teeming with people entering and exiting the diner. Lost in distraction, you collide head-on with a solid chest. Strong hands instinctively grasp your biceps, preventing you from stumbling further. As your gaze lifts, you're met with the chestnut eyes that have been the wind, stirring up your world. 

“Whoa. Careful, doll,” he says, surprise lacing his tone.

“What are you doing here?” You demand.

Flecks of gray paint pepper the tangle of dark curls pushed back from his face, joining the streaks and spatters covering his ripped jeans and a long-sleeved white tee, his wide eyes drinking you in.

“He’s meeting me,” Robin says, appearing beside you. “I’m taking him to meet an artist he’s commissioning. See, I can keep a secret.”

He’s still holding you, his eyes locked with yours, each ridge of his fingertips searing into your skin, the pressure of grip alternating like he’s reluctant to let you go. 

“I’m late,” you murmur, pulling away from his touch and turning in the opposite direction to walk down the road toward your car. 

"I’ll be right back,” he tells Robin before his footsteps echo on the sidewalk behind you. He waits until the restaurant is just out of sight.

“Doll-”

Keeping your pace purposeful, you push past people heading in the opposite direction, feigning deafness to his voice amidst the sound of traffic.

“Doll, just wait,” his hand brushes your elbow, but you spin before he can secure a grip. “Jesus. Will you give me a minute,” he mutters, frustration etching lines on his forehead as he rakes his hand through his hair.

“What do you want?” You ask, cradling your jacket closer to your chest.

“I had no idea you were here. I wasn’t trying to ambush you back there,” he tries to explain.

“It’s fine, Eddie.” Your eyes glance at the people passing around you. “You made it perfectly clear you’re going to go wherever you like.”

His tongue peeks out, wetting his top lip as he shakes his head. “Look, I wanted to tell you I don’t want you to do the interview.”

“Wow, okay.” Your eyes scrunch as the sting of rejection overpowers the butterflies filling your stomach.

“No,” he winces at his choice of words. “I want you too.” 

“You’re giving me whiplash here.” You finally meet his gaze. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to see you. Talk to you, but I don’t want you doing this interview hating me because you were forced into it.”

“It’s a little late for that-”

“No. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can tell them…I can say I changed my mind.” His words carry a weight of earnestness, a sincerity that chips at the wall you’ve built between you. The instinct not to trust him, to remember all the times he’s let you down, wars with the truth in his eyes, begging you for acceptance. 

“We are both professionals. I can write it.” Your foot taps a quick rhythm against the pavement, as your face stays blank with defiance.

“If you’re sure...” he trails off, his eyes burning into yours as he waits for your answer.

The words form and reform on the tip of your tongue until the truth slips past, “I don’t hate you, Eddie,” you admit just above a whisper. 

“Well, that’s something,” he murmurs, searching your face.

The buzzing from your pocket resumes as the world shifts back into focus, breaking through the momentary understanding. 

“I’ve got to go,” you tell him, motioning towards your car. “The magazine will call and set something up soon.”

He blows out a breath as his shoulders lower. “I guess I’ll see ya round then,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

You nod, turning in the direction of your car, leaving him standing on the sidewalk to watch you walk away, the city filling the space between you.

Steve’s assistant is at his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he speaks into a headset. With a pleasant smile and a wave, you pass by him, pausing at the double doors to knock once under the brass nameplate reading Harrington. You turn the knob without waiting for a response. Steve is seated behind his immaculate metal and glass-topped desk, not a paper out of place. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him frame a breathtaking view of the city's skyline while the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the plush beige carpeting. 

"Damn." He pauses with his coffee cup suspended halfway to his mouth, eyes roaming up and down your body. ‘Someone's a lucky guy.”

Biting your lip, his compliment has a smile lifting your cheeks. The velvet blazer covering over your shoulders crowns the plunging black silk tank you put on this morning. Its lacy edges trace the curves of your breasts, while your faux leather pants and ankle boots make your legs look miles long and hug your curves just right. 

“Yeah, well, big assignment today,” you reply, running your fingertips along the edge of his desk. 

In the past six years at Stax, you've delved into Ozzy's addiction, engaged Thom Yorke about climate change, and held the hand of a teary-eyed Taylor Swift as she cried over her ex. Your words have canonized the music that has woven the fabric of our culture. Eddie Muson is going to see you're not the same girl with stars in her eyes and headphones pressed to her ears. 

Steve’s brow furrows, etched with a deep V. "I was talking about me. Date night tonight, or did you forget?"

The blood drains from your face as you respond with a forced smile, "Of course, I didn't forget." The lie tastes bitter in your mouth. “I always want to look pretty for you.” Spinning his chair, your knees find their place on either side of his thighs as you straddle his lap. Your fingers gripping his starched collar. The notes of sandalwood from his cologne hit your nose, mixing with the scent of coffee. His features soften as his hands glide to your hips, and you tip your head and press your lips to his. “We’re meeting Robin’s new girlfriend tonight, right?”

“Taylor,” he confirms with a nod. “You’ll like her. She paints naked while listening to Jane's Addiction.”

“And how do you know this?” You laugh, your lips meeting his for the second time.

“I met her the other day when I took Robin to lunch.”

“Ahh," you respond with a playful grin, your thumb tracing along the stubble that lines his jaw. "That explains it."

“So, just an hour at the gallery, okay? We’ll have a drink and say hello-”

“If Robin lets us go,” you interrupt.

“Just an hour,” he reiterates, “Then I’m taking you to dinner alone. And we’ll go home for dessert,” he promises as his lips find their way to your neck.

“Hmm. Where are you taking me?” You ask as your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm not sure," he mumbles against your neck, “My assistant booked the reservation.” His lips trail lower, his grip tightening as his phone suddenly dances across the glass surface of his desk, its baseball jingle shattering the moment.

He picks up the phone, checking the number before setting it back down. “I’ll call them back,” he says absently before turning back to you. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I have a conference in fifteen minutes. What are you doing here, Ace?” He asks, his eyes glancing towards the desktop screen that has been chiming with incoming emails. 

“I’m meeting Jonathan. He’s driving over to CursedSound,” you say, climbing off him. “Thought I’d come say hi before I left.”

"Okay, you can tell me about it tonight," he responds, his tone distracted, as if he might not have truly registered your reply. He adjusts his glasses before refocusing his attention on the screen.

“Alright.” The clacking of his keyboard drowns out your quiet tone. You smooth out your shirt, sensing that you’ve been dismissed. He squints behind his glasses, tugging a handful of hair. Worry nags at the edges of your thoughts–he’s pushing himself too hard.

“See you tonight,” you call over your shoulder as you leave his office, not bothering to wait for the response that won’t come. 

"All set?" Jonathan asks as he slides behind the wheel of his Volvo XC, his camera equipment already secured neatly in the back.

"Yup," you reply, clicking your seatbelt into place and settling into the plush leather seat.

"You know you didn’t have to come today," he comments as he maneuvers onto the bustling streets of the Loop, navigating the notorious Chicago traffic. "I’m just taking a few shots of the inside before it’s all put together and maybe a few portraits for the digital content."

"Yeah, I know.” You glance at him, offering a warm smile. "But I wanted to run through my outline for the series with him so he can be fully prepared," you explain, pulling your phone from your pocket and opening your email.

Eddie hadn’t reached out or texted once since the diner. The clock ticked slowly all week long, surrounded by magazine articles and album inserts, piecing together clues about what Eddie had been doing for the last eleven years while your outline came together, his silence crawling under your skin like a nagging itch. Maybe press for the studio had been all he was after, and his interest after all this time had nothing to do with wanting to see you again. Well, this time, he doesn’t get to dictate the terms, to decide if you’re useful or if you should be discarded like a day-old newspaper. Given the circumstances, showing up uninvited and unannounced seems fair. 

After circling the block once, Jonathan finds a space to park across the street from the old brewery.

"Is this it?" You ask, using a hand placed over your brow to shield your eyes from the sun.

The older building stands out amidst the sleek, modern high-rises that dominate the commercialized neighborhood. Its rough limestone-clad facade wears the scars of time, with colorful graffiti adorning any surfaces within arm's reach of the fire escapes and a rather questionable-looking bodega with covered windows attached to the corner. However, the copper-framed bay windows gleam with a warm, aged patina, and the asymmetrical turrets, adorned with stamped rosettes and scallop patterns, give it a soul hiding beneath the urban decay—very Eddie.

"I wonder how much he’s paying to rent for this place?" You mumble.

"I think he bought it," Jonathan says, coming up beside you, weighted down with bags full of equipment.

You follow Jonathan around the corner to a rusted metal door adjacent to a brushed steel sign displaying the CursedSound Recordings name and logo, securely affixed to the brick wall. He presses the buzzer next to the door, and a screeching bell reverberates from inside. Metal grinds against metal as the locks release, and the door swings open.

"Right on time, Jon," Eddie greets, his eyes widening when he catches sight of you standing behind Jonathan. Your lips raise into a smirk as you stride past him, catching a whiff of the smoke and leather that cling to his skin as you enter through the open door. The short hallway opens into a bigger space. The heels of your boots clack against the scuffed parquet flooring as you move further into the room. Sofas and chairs covered by sheets surround a custom reception desk in the dimly lit room. Dust motes float in the beams of light that pierce through the rips in the brown paper-covered windows, revealing that this is inside of the bodega.

"This, uh... this will be the lobby," Eddie offers, gesturing vaguely around the room before his fingers rake through the curls at the back of his neck. He’s clad in a pair of expensive jeans that seem tailor-made for him and an open light grey dress shirt with a white tee underneath. His hair and beard are freshly trimmed but not too short, giving off that effortless California cool vibe. He’s grown into himself, carrying a confidence that comes with age and success. He looks good – it's annoying.

His stare prickles on your skin as he blinks at you like maybe you’re really a ghost of his past come to call. 

"Is there more?" You ask, your tone haughty.

"Yeah. The studios are upstairs." He nods toward the propped open door, revealing a stairwell behind. He takes one of the heavy bags from Jonathan before following him up the stairs. You grip the green-painted metal railing as you climb the grey-bubbled stair treads, pausing at the landing to take in the view of the street. The city moves by at the same blurring pace, unaffected and unaware of the collectives of its inhabitants. Someone should stop and look once in a while. 

The door at the top of the stairs leads to the wide hall that smells of drywall and paint. The deep red wall-to-wall carpet, the kind you’d find at a theater, looks new and plush, a contrast to the stark walls primed but not painted. Heavy black doors with the silver letters – A, B, & C denote the entrance to each studio. 

Jonathan sets the bag he’s carrying down by his feet and eyes the room. "Mind if I look around?"

"Knock yourself out," Eddie tells him, placing the other bag beside the first. "Studio C is the farthest along."

Jonathan crouches to unzip a bag, pulling a camera from its depths, fitting the strap over his head before he wanders to the first door marked A and lets himself in.

"Didn’t expect to see you here today, doll. You aren’t on my calendar til next week." Eddie turns to you once Jonathan disappears from sight.

"I came to see what I was working with." 

"By all means." He waves you forward.

Moving down the hall, you choose the door on the opposite wall – Studio C. The carpet is different in here, a rich velvet blue. The glass wall that is already in place reveals a spacious live room with strips of soundproofing covering half of the walls and more neatly piled on the floor. An isolation booth, where artists can focus on their vocals without distractions, has been framed out but remains unfinished.

"Well, what do you think?" Eddie asks.

An Interesting question. Your eyes wander, exploring the mixing room, where an impressive-looking soundboard remains veiled in plastic. A newly painted mural dominates the entire back wall – graffiti art portraying a massive skull shedding tears made of music notes that cascade onto yellow-bricked path winding through a cityscape. It exudes raw emotion and authenticity, just like the music that will soon resonate within these walls. You can already sense it murmuring from deep within, poised to fill the voids in people's souls, for that's what music does – it's an indelible tattoo on the heart, amplifying both pain and joy. This music – his music, will endure.

Standing in the room's center, you take a slow spin before locking your gaze with Eddie's.

"What a dump."

A deep furrow appears on Eddie's forehead as his lips press into a disapproving line. 

"Should I be wearing a hard hat?" You raise your hand above your head and inspect the sturdy ceiling like it might collapse at any moment. "Has a building inspector been out?"

He crosses his arms over his broad chest as his eyes narrow, pausing for a breath as his lips part. Jonathan strolls into the room, unaware of his interruption, surveying the space with a thoughtful expression. 

"Nice art. Is this the guy Robin hooked you up with?" He questions Eddie, who remains locked in his scowl. 

"Yeah, it is. He’s coming back to do a wall in the lobby," he answers without looking away from you.

"That will look great," Jonathan says, nodding. "I’m going to set up some lights and get a few shots in here." 

Eddie waits for Jonathan to wander back into the hall before he crosses the room in three big strides, stopping directly in front of you, closer than what would be considered polite. But this is Eddie, and it’s all part of the game. Your hands move to your hips as you straighten in defiance. The scent of mint on his breath reaches your nose as his index finger barely brushes your skin as he lifts the gold circle and bar necklace that rests at your throat. 

"Harrington’s money has sure got you spoiled, princess," he mocks, giving it a light tug, causing the anchor end of the chain to rise up the valley of your breasts. When your eyes flash, his lips pull to the side, twisting in a smirk. 

"I make my own money, Eddie." You remove your chain from his hand. "You sure have a lot of opinions about my life, considering you don’t even know me."

"I think I know you, plenty–"

He steps back when Jonathan reappears, bags in tow. He sets them down lightly before casting glances back and forth between the two of you, "Have you gone over your outline?" He asks. 

"Not yet," you reply, flashing a sweet smile up at Eddie.

Jonathan clears his throat, growing slightly impatient. "Well, this won't take me long, and I'll be ready to head back. Why don't you go downstairs? I don't want you in my shot."

As you stomp down the stairs behind Eddie, the echo of your boots reverberates off the empty walls, the window glass reflecting an image of the unassured, sad girl you left in Hawkins. He’s wrong. He doesn’t know you or the lengths you’ll go not to be her anymore. 

The reception area sits in hushed stillness, broken by the distant hum of traffic outside and the gentle ticking of pipes like a clock counting the seconds. Eddie pulls the sheet covering an orange velour couch, sending a light cloud of construction dust into the air. Without waiting for an invitation, you take a seat at one end of the sofa. He settles next to you, spreading his legs wide and crossing one over his knee, his arm landing on the top of the cushions behind you. He’s sitting too close, the heat of his thigh pressing against yours, the spice of his cologne surrounding you. Close enough to see the light stubble on his jaw as he swallows. You shift forward to the edge of your seat, creating some space between you.

"You can’t even sit next to me anymore?" He asks, his tone a mix of disappointment and irritation. 

"I’m sitting next to you right now." you point out, straightening your back further.

"Then relax. Jesus. You used to get mad if there wasn’t a seat for you next to me."

"Well, we’re not in high school anymore, Eddie."

"I’m not talking about high school," he murmurs, looking down at his lap before he raises his eyes to lock with yours. 

The first few notes of a song you never wanted to hear again ripple to the surface, dragging up memories that should have remained weighted down in the cold depths of things forgotten. He disarms you so effortlessly, whether with a smile or his words. This was all a big mistake.

"I'm sorry," his fingers encircle your wrist, knowing he crossed a line he shouldn't have. You pull your hand away from his grip, and he quickly changes the subject before you have a chance to stand up and leave. "Did you want to tell me about the article?"

Lips parting, you pause to exhale, the sting slowly dissipating. "My editor…" you clear your throat, reaching into the pocket of your blazer for your phone. "My editor wants a series. There will be three featured articles." You tap on the screen bringing up your notes. Eddie raises his eyebrows and leans in, trying to read over your shoulder, but you angle it away as you continue, "That means I'll need three interviews…will you stop," you say when he tries again to see the screen. 

"It's about me. I just want to see it," he argues, leaning further into your space.

"My god, you're like a little kid." Switching the phone to your opposite hand, you hold it at arm's length, "Haven't you grown up at all?"

His lips turn up until his dimples are on full display. "Why would I want to go and do a thing like that? 

The exasperated scoff that leaves your throat is accompanied by your eyes rolling to the side. 

"Not like you," he admits, his gaze roaming over you from head to toe. "After you interviewed Win Butler, he told me he couldn't have denied you the truth, and I'm beginning to understand why. Harrington’s got good taste. You've only gotten more beautiful."

Your features remain even as a gentle heat rises up your chest. "I'll be sure to pass on your compliments. I'm sure Steve will appreciate it. Three interviews," you say, displaying that number of fingers, dragging his attention back to the matter at hand. “The first will be on your past – early career, your move from Hawkins to LA. Then we'll move on to your present. Why you chose Chicago.The work you're putting into the studio and any projects you have booked when you open." You refer back to your notes, and this time, his eyes don't leave your face, intent on studying you. "The big finale will be the future. Where you see the studio in five years, your predictions on the direction of the industry. "

With a final tap, you show him the mock-up displayed on your screen, "I’m titling it Behind the Mixer: The Past, Present, and Future of Eddie Munson's Cursed Sound." You look up from your phone, your gaze locking with his.

His eyes are hesitant before he breaks your connection to look down at the device in your outstretched hand. "Wow, I'm impressed, doll." A rosy tint colors his cheeks. "It's so professional. Not used to seeing my name printed like I'm somethin'."

"You’ve had plenty of press," you remind him. "What did Rolling Stone call you? The man with the ear for platinum."

"Yeah, that's true. I've been written about before." He looks up, brown eyes burning into yours, your heads now just a few inches apart. "But never by you. They weren't your words."

The weight of his stare is too heavy. You turn your head to look around the room. Liar. The familiar itch prickles beneath your skin. 

"I’ve read everything you’ve written," he prattles on as you cross your arms over your chest, your fingernails leaving half moons in the fabric of your jacket. 

"I buy a subscription to Stax every year. I get Wayne one, too. Do you know he saves every–"

“Stop, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” He asks, his brows sinking.

“This.” You wave your hand between you. “Whatever this is. I’m going to write a good story. You’re getting what you want.”

“What I want?” He looks surprised. “You think this is about the article?”

“Isn’t it?”

His mouth parts, words teetering on the edge of his tongue, when Jonathan's footsteps cause the stairs to groan under his weight. "Finished?" Jonathan inquires, "I'd like to wrap up with a few shots of Eddie by the sign."

"We're done," you confirm, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

"No, we're not, doll," Eddie argues, "Actually, you go ahead, Jon. I'll give her a ride home."

"No, you won't." You stand, not sparing him a glance. "I have somewhere else to be."

"We're losing the light," Jonathan laments, camera in hand, gesturing for both of you to follow.

“You got big plans tonight? Sure you aren’t looking for an excuse not to finish our conversation?” Eddie presses, trailing behind you as you step through the side door out onto the street.

“Believe me, it’s definitely finished,” you state, firmness lacing your words, stepping aside to get out of Jonathan's way.

"Just stand in front of the brick," Jonathan directs, "To your left," he motions with his hand.

“And not that it’s any of your business," you let an air of condescension lace your tone, "But I have a date tonight with my fiancée.”

“Relax, Eddie. Don’t look at the camera," Jonathan instructs when Eddie's jaw clenches.

Eddie's thumbs hook into the pockets of his jacket. "Sounds romantic," he snarks. "How long have they been engaged now, Jon? Two years? And we still haven't received a wedding invitation. Someone's having cold feet. My money's on Harrington."

"His name is Jonathan. No one calls him that, Eddie." You cock your hip, crossing your arms. 

"I'm sure he would tell me if he minded," Eddie retorts, matching the irritation in your voice.

"I don't care," Jonathan sighs, "Can you just move around a bit and look down."

You narrow your eyes, inspecting Eddie as he gets into position."Did you cut your hair again?"

"I'm a thirty-two-year-old man. Sometimes I do that," he responds, scratching at his beard.

"Tip your chin to the right," Jonathan instructs from behind the camera, the shutter clicking in short bursts.

"Well, it looks stupid."

"Okay, I think I've got it," Jonathan says, lowering the camera. "Jesus, what is it with you two? If I wanted to listen to bickering, I’d go home to Nancy," he complains, with a red face. "Let's go."

The rush of water as it overflows from the upper stone basin into the fountain's pool blends the conversation of the other diners at the 3 Arts Club into the background. The atrium is dimly lit, relying on the massive crystal drop chandeliers cascading golden light and the flickering hurricane lanterns spilling candlelight onto the marble-topped table you're seated at. Steve smiles, holding your gaze as the waitress sets the plates in front of you. Swirls of green in his soft eyes are set off by the towering olive trees behind him, that give off a subtle woody aroma. 

“For a minute, I thought we weren't going to make our reservation.” He unwraps his silverware from the cloth napkin and places it in his lap. 

“We almost didn’t,” you point out, “I think Robin wanted us to stay and join them after Taylor’s show.”

“I’m glad we didn’t. I want some time alone with you.” He reaches across the table, fingers closing over yours.

“Thank you for bringing me here. This place is really beautiful.” Your gaze sweeps upward toward the towering glass ceiling, where the night sky glows a deep plum hue painted by the lights of the city.

“Is it?” he asks, his eyes locking onto yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “All I see is you.”

Your cheeks warm, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Eat your salad, you charmer.” You roll your eyes before looking up at him from under your lashes.

The side of his mouth lifts as he lets you go to pick up his fork, mixing the shavings of parmesan in with the crips romaine and the delicate bites of chicken. Your phone vibrates against your hip through the pocket of your blazer.

Eddie: What I said had nothing to do with the article. 

Without answering, you place your phone on your thigh, picking up your fork to break off a piece of salmon. The honey and black pepper melt on your tongue as you take your first bite. 

“What did you think of Taylor?” Steve asks, spearing a few of your truffle fries with his fork and setting them on the edge of his plate.

“You were right. I liked her,” you tell him as a faint buzzing emanates on your thigh. 

Eddie: If you would quit running away, I would have told you that in person. 

Run away? A knot ties itself in your stomach as you blink down at the message on your screen, only hesitating for a moment before tapping out a reply. 

You: I didn't run away. I had something better to do. 

"Did you like the blue watercolor of the thistles she did?" He asks as you look up, placing your phone face down on the table. 

"It matches the blue of the built-ins in your office. We could get rid of that old chair from your parent's basement. Redo the whole thing."  His eyebrows lift hopefully as your phone rattles on the marble.

Eddie: Is that why you're texting me right now because you're busy doing something better?

“You're not touching my chair. My entire office is off-limits. I like it the way it is,” your voice comes out too sharp. Your gaze flickers between Steve and the glowing screen of your phone as you type your response. 

You: Good point. An error on my part. Goodnight.

“I can always hang it in the guestroom. Who are you texting?” 

His question captures your full attention. “Sorry. It’s for work.” You switch the button at the top to silent and set it back down on the table. “You bought it, didn’t you?” You ask, sinking your fork into a few fries before dipping them in aioli. 

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes a big bite of his salad, avoiding your question as he chews.

“Steve, the house is going to be a museum to her ex-girlfriends. We’ll be able to give guided tours.”

He laughs, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Art is an investment. Even my dad agrees.”

“Oh, your dad, huh? I didn’t know he agreed with anything. Can I have a bite of your salad?” Your fork hovers over his plate as you catch the light of your phone screen lighting up out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah. Go for it.” He pushes his plate closer to you. “How was the salmon?” 

“Good. You want some?” You ask around a mouth full of lettuce.

“I’ll try a little,” he says, swapping around your plates as you set your fork aside and pick up your phone.

Eddie: I bet Harrington took you somewhere real fancy. He’s probably hoping it will get him laid.

Your eyes narrow at your screen as your jaw clenches and your heel taps beneath the table.  

You: He doesn’t have to hope. Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?

The wait for a response is short-lived as an image pops up on your screen. Sockclad feet are propped up on a coffee table beside a take-out box of tacos and a half-drained glass of beer, its foam running down the side. A hazy view of a television screen in the background. 

“Is that still work? Who’s texting you?” Steve asks, his eyes speculative as he leans forward and glances at your screen. 

“It’s just Eddie,” you dismiss the question with a wave of your hand as you darken the screen. "What about you? How are things with the radio launch?"

He studies your face a moment longer before his features soften, and he answers, "My workload has more than doubled. City Beats has as many divisions as Second City collectively, and I’m overseeing all of it.” His elbows land on the table as his hands tug through his hair. “I’m coordinating with marketing trying to promote it all across the city, and today, Richard called me into his office and said he wants me to meet the sponsors with Ted. Doesn’t think he can handle it on his own. Says I’m more advertiser-friendly.” He uses his fingers to quote the title.

“Can you tell him no?” You reach across the table for his hand. “It’s too much, Steve–for anybody. You've been working like this for months.”

“I can’t. The launch is in a few weeks, then I'll talk to Rich—” He stops mid sentence as his ringtone breaks through the peaceful ambiance. Pulling his phone from his breast pocket, he squints at the screen in the low light, a frown making him look more weary than usual. “I’m sorry, Ace. I need to take this.” He stands, giving your hand an apologetic squeeze before walking towards the entrance. “Hi, Richard. No, you're not disturbing anything…”

As Steve's voice trails off, leaving you on your own in the dimly lit atrium, the room continues to hum with conversations, laughter, and intimacy. You pick up your wine, the cold glass feeling delicate in your fidgety fingers, the crisp acidity of the sauvignon blanc offering  little comfort.  Dining alone shouldn't feel strange. People do it all the time, relishing their own company as they leisurely turn the pages of books or savor each bite. It's a skill you've yet to master, haunted by an irrational discomfort under the imagined weight of judgmental eyes, a residue of being the girl no one would sit next to in Hawkins. It's absurd, of course, but that old fear lingers, an uninvited companion. 

As you reach for your phone, Eddie's name sits at the top of your notifications, and this time, the distraction is welcomed. 

Until you read it. 

Eddie: I read your album review of Lungs. You really stunk up the page with that one.

You: Lungs by Florence and the Machine? That was two years ago!

Eddie: I told you I read all your work. x

You: And what exactly did you take issue with?

Eddie: You trashed her. You said her vocals were overpowering and meant to cover up mediocre musicians. Said she was an alt Britney Spears.

Your nose scrunches with wince, recalling the words you choose to print.

You: I wrote what I felt at the time.

Eddie: The album sold 3 million copies. Don’t worry, Flo forgave you. 

Eddie: Eventually

You: I doubt Florence Welch reads Stax.

Eddie: Well

Eddie: I had a copy.

You: YOU SHOWED IT TO HER!

Fury. Blind, hot, raging fury rolls through your veins. Your hand smacks onto the table with a resounding crack, causing the silverware to clatter and plates to rattle. A few diners stop to look at you, and you give them a bashful smile as heat creeps up your neck. 

You: I’m going to hurt you. Slowly.

Eddie: Relax. No need to get kinky. It’s all water under the bridge. I worked on that album, and I intentionally asked for that bold, unapologetic vocal style. It was meant to be raw. It seems like the fans agreed.  But, hey, everyone gets it wrong once in a while. Maybe you were on your period or something.

Your fingers dance across the keyboard, a torrent of response surging, ready to pour out, but you restrain the urge to send them – every ugly word remains unsent. His three dots flicker on the screen, and another message swiftly follows.

Eddie: The only reason I remember it was because her album dropped the same week you got engaged. At first, I thought it might be personal, but I wondered why after all these years. Then I realized you were probably far too busy writing Mrs. Harrington with big hearts around it in your diary to be worrying about me.

Words, false as a cracked melody, slip from your fingers with practiced ease, but beneath it all, guilt settles in your chest like a haunting refrain, its weight growing heavier with every truth left unsaid.

You: I don’t remember if I knew you worked on that album.

Eddie: I’m sure you didn’t. 

He went down this path searching for something. Unspoken lyrics to a hidden refrain that have long evaded his grasp. Whatever he’s uncovered and what it means to him isn’t clear, but for now, he’s letting you off the hook. Relief sweeps over you like the final notes of a song, the recording skipping and cracking, ushering in something new between you– a tune you haven’t heard before.

Eddie: Thanks for clearing it up. I should let you get back to your date. Steve probably has steam coming out of his ears.

You: He had to take a call.

Eddie: He left you all alone? It’s a good thing I was around then.

Steve approaches the table, his smile painted on but not quite reaching his eyes. You discreetly slip your phone away into your pocket. 

"Investors from Tokyo," he explains with a sigh. "Richard wants me on all the calls with them until we launch."

You reach out, your fingers tracing the contours of his stubbled jaw, "You're exhausted, baby."

"I know." He turns into your touch. "I've already paid. We can go if you're ready."

He takes your hand as you rise from the table, leading you through the restaurant and out onto the street. His arm goes around to waist to hold you close as you walk home. His hand occasionally dips lower than your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. It's easy to take the comfort he offers. 

His warm, eager lips meet the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing, nibbling as he pushes you against the inside of your front door, sliding your blazer from your shoulders until it catches on your elbows.

"I thought you were tired," you gasp as his mouth journeys lower, leaving sparks of heat behind. His lips trace the curve of your collarbone, descending to the crest of your breast, where delicate black lace meets flushed skin.

"Not for this." He moves down to one knee, removing your boots one by one. "Never for you." They hit the hardwood with a clatter, their sound reverberating up the stairwell.

He moves back up your body, cursing when he struggles to find the zip at the back of your pants. Your laughter earns his smile as your head rolls against the thick oak door, your fingers searching for purchase on the soft material covering his forearms.

“Steve,” you breathe, your voice a heated whisper, just before his mouth finds yours. 

The baseball rounding of the bases blares from his pocket like a hammer shattering glass. He pulls back, breathing hard, closing his eyes as he leans his forehead against yours. The ringing continues, too loud, echoing off the quiet walls of your home. His apologetic eyes lock with yours before he steps back, pulling out the ringing device.

“Fuck.” His knuckles turn white as his grip tightens, Richards's name lighting up on the screen. He holds it a little higher for a moment like he’s preparing to smash it on the ground. 

"It's okay, Steve." You move closer to his side. Your hand gently glides down his arm, offering reassurance. "I've got a little work to do anyway. Take your call."

"Yeah?" he questions, his thumb hesitating over the accept button.

"Yeah, go ahead." You smile, giving his arm a squeeze.

Steve answers the call with a hint of annoyance in his tone, "Richard." His voice gradually fades as you make your way down the hallway to the small office you've claimed as your own, tucked away behind the kitchen.

With one hand pushing up the creaking door, your fingers fumble along the wall for the switch to the banker's lamp perched at the corner of your desk. A faint light filters in as the first raindrops ping against the glass, leaving meandering trails down the black-paned windows dominating an entire wall. You approach the peacock-blue shelving that Steve had crafted to house your ever-expanding collection of CDs, records, and books. Running your fingers over the album spines, you find the one you're looking for and slide it out of its protective sleeve. 

The mauve vinyl reflects the lamp light as you place it onto the waiting turntable. With a twist of a knob and a careful drop of the needle, the soft crackle emanates from the speakers, filling the room's quiet spaces. A honeyed voice purrs the lyrics as you settle sideways into the old leather chair rescued from your parent's basement. Legs dangling over the patched arm, you reach for the half-smoked joint in the ashtray beside you, lighting in time for the drumbeat to pound out a steady rhythm while the mild burn travels down your throat and into your lungs. 

The soft haze reaches your brain, quieting the uncertainty as the scratch of the guitar joins in with the melody. Curls of thick smoke spiral and twirl with your exhale, dancing through the air. You sink deeper into the embrace of the leather, taking a few more deep puffs before returning the burning joint to the ashtray and pulling your phone from your pocket. 

You: Yeah, Eddie. It’s a good thing. 

AN: Sorry I'm a day late. The holiday weekend kept me busy. I'd love to hear from you. Comments, reblogs, and asks are always welcome and appreciated. I'll be doing some traveling soon, so updates might be affected but I will be writing.

Read Song 4 Remix Here Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Hugs and kisses for all my kittens - Jelly

P.S. To the lovely person who suggested Linger. I can't find your ask because my brain is broken or Tumblr is. I just wanted to know that your song inspired an upcoming scene in chapter 5 that I'm so excited to write. I can't imagine this story without it now. So, extra big thanks.

So everyone keep sending me your song suggestions, please! I promise I'm listening to everyone.