#Slide and stack patio doors

[slideandstackdoors]

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[cameronsbabydoll]

father’s day with military!rafe

cw: fluff with light smut

sunday morning starts soft.

you tiptoe out of bed early, baby monitor in hand, trying not to wake rafe. he got in late from a training rotation and knocked out like a bear in hibernation, one massive arm sprawled across your side like he was guarding you in his sleep.

he deserves a real break.

he deserves today.

father’s day.

you don’t plan much — just breakfast, a clean house, baby dressed up in a “daddy’s little recruit” onesie, a new grilling set, and a handwritten card you helped the baby “sign” with a little paint on his fingers.

but by the time you come back upstairs… rafe’s gone.

you find him in the backyard. shirtless. flipping open the grill.

“babe,” you call, arms crossed at the sliding glass door.

“what?” he answers like it's the most normal thing in the world to be power-washing the patio at 8am.

“you weren’t supposed to lift a finger today.”

“not liftin’ a finger, darlin’. just a hose.” he smirks.

that’s how the whole morning goes.

you beg him to sit on the couch — he wipes down the fridge door.

you make waffles — he reorganizes the garage.

you put on a movie — he’s folding laundry like it’s a military operation.

click. click. fold. stack.

you sit on the couch, blinking at him.

“rafe.”

“hm?”

“babe, you’re making me anxious just watching you.”

“don’t know how to sit still,” he says with a shrug. “not when there’s shit to get done.”

but when you pout — really pout — bottom lip trembling, arms folded — he softens just a little.

“c’mere,” you tell him. “now. orders.”

he chuckles, tosses the shirt he was folding, and finally walks over to you. slow.

and massive. broad shoulders still sun-warm, jaw shadowed with scruff, that little glint in his eye like he’s humoring you.

“what’s this?” he murmurs, settling on the couch.

“you,” you say, crawling into his lap, “are finally gonna relax.”

“not sure i remember how.”

“i’ll teach you.”

his hands — rough and warm — land on your hips automatically.

he smells like cedar soap and sun and the lingering sharpness of sweat. he’s solid under you, thighs thick, body still in high-alert posture until you nuzzle in. and then… he melts.

slowly.

your hands run over his chest.

you press a kiss to his throat, soft and lazy.

“your only job today is to love me,” you whisper, teasing, “and maybe make me cum once or twice.”

“once or twice?” he echoes, eyebrows raising.

“three times if you’re feeling generous.”

he exhales a laugh, full-chested and warm.

“you really are spoiled, darlin’,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss you.

“you made me this way.”

“that right?”

“mhmm.”

you rock your hips once in his lap — just enough to tease — and his hands tighten on your waist.

“goddamn,” he mutters. “you’re my favorite mission, y’know that?”

“say it like you mean it, captain.”

“you’re my only mission today, baby.”

and this time, when he carries you to bed — he leaves the laundry right where it is.

[clasesdeperiodismo]

Backyard Jacksonville Mid-sized beach style tile back porch photo with a roof extension

[yeyinde]

piggybacking off of @ceilidho 's dog soap idea with something awful lmao

You first notice it when you catch him staring at you from the crack of your bedroom door.

He's sitting in the dimly lit hallway, only half of his face peering into the sliver of space between the white wood of the door and the frame. Just—

Watching.

In the bluegreen glow of the flickering screen (Robert Stack paces down a blue hallway, bathed in that hazy, neon glow of early 80s television), he looks more like a lurking shadow than an animal. Eyes dark, and glinting in the soft light like the surface of a placid lake. You think of the dangers lurking beneath the murk when his muzzle dips, the slow refocus of an apex predator acclimating to a sudden change by its prey. The motion almost entire too human, and—

Not.

Not at all. It rides a razor's edge between anthropomorphism and the uncanny valley; the middle a strange, unfathomable realm of eerie discomfort. Something is wrong. The notion prickles against the nape of your neck. Crawls slowly down your back, the spindled gait of a languid spider tickling your skin as it walks over your flesh.

Something is wrong with your dog.

He was fine ten minutes ago. Had his dinner. Went for his walk. You were lazing on the bed flipping through the channels when his ears perked up, head pointed toward the back door.

You didn't think much about it. He had to go. Maybe he heard a rodent rummaging in your garbage. You slipped out of bed, his soft, fuzzy body sliding against your calves as you walked him to the patio, pulling it open and letting him out. He seemed to hesitate at the threshold, though. And while it didn't stand out to you then, it does now. He froze, ears pinning back, flat to his skull, as his fur lifted. Raising high in the air. A whine slipping out—

There was a rustle in the bush. A low noise. A growl. It was probably just the other dog sniffing along the fence, you thought. Your neighbours husky. He placed one paw on the deck, and then turned to you, eyes wet and glossy in the flushed porch light, and—

(and he looked so scared.)

Your breath hitches. Heart twisting in your chest. He's still staring at you from the hall. Unblinking. Expression wild. Wide. Pinning you with his stare. But he's panting. Chest expanding as it heaves through it's snout in quick, shallow breaths. Maybe the other dog scared it. Maybe the husky bit it's paw through the fence. You should check on it—

Him.

Check on him.

He went outside after a moment. Tail flattened between his legs. Drawn toward something you couldn't see, couldn't hear. And you turned around with a smile, waving him off as you walked back to bed. And now—

It's—his—lip curls.

He's never so much as bitten you much less—snarled. The suddenness of it paralyses you. Roots you to bed. Useless and unable to do anything as your dog, your baby boy, lifts his muzzle up with a growl, long, sharp canines dripping red—

"Baby?"

It's a warble when it slips out. Shaky. Scared. The sound of voice makes the dog drop his jowls, cherryred tongue lulling out. Pink, foamy drool spilling to the ground as he pants. His teeth look sharper than they did before. You brush them every night before bed, cooing at him as you scrub his canines clean. Singing some off-key song about dogs and their pretty teeth. He watches you with nothing short of adoration etched into his big, brown eyes. Wide and so trusting, so loving—

It's a harsh juxtaposition to how he looks at you now. Hungrily. Like a starving lion looming over a tired, sickly gazelle. Tongue out, jaws dripping with saliva. Your heart lurches.

"Baby?" You call again and he huffs. The rough noise filling the room, echoing through the hall. Deeper, somehow, than the snarl on his lips. The halfbitten growl booming in his heaving chest. You curl your legs inward under the covers, drawing them tight to your chest as he blinks, slow. Languid. As his lips split wider, wider, and for a moment, you almost trick yourself into seeing a maniacal grin pushing at the corners. Frenzied and full of teeth.

But the lake ripples, and the thought is tucked away. Hidden under a blanket of numbness that spreads, mushrooming over your thoughts. Cobwebbing over the unease that saturates your mind; tiny fangs of a spider piercing through, liquifying them.

He keeps his eyes pinned on you, mouth open wide with his tongue out the side of jaw, and slowly raises himself off of the floor. It's something you've seen him do hundreds of times. Agile flicks. A big stretch. A yawn. A shake.

You wait for it. And wait. Wait—

Something cools on your cheek. Wet, sticky. You don't have to reach up to know that it's tears. They roll down in an endless stream, cold against your frozen face. Unable to move as your mind bends, and bends, but refuses to break. To snap. Shatter. To admit that what you're seeing is real.

That he doesn't shake. He doesn't yawn. He jerks. He twists. Unfamiliar, you think. Like he isn't used to moving with a body this shape. Distorted. Wrong. It snaps. It twitches. He hunches over with his spine bowed and his head slung between his thick front legs, low to the ground but his eyes—

His eyes are on you.

Pinning you down. Glowing in the artificial blue light.

You can't watch him move. Try to walk. It'll skewer through the molasses you let trickle over your fear, curdling in your belly like sour milk. You drag your gaze away from his jerking gait instead, staring, unseeingly, at the television as he limbers onto the bed.

You can smell something on him when he moves close. Rot, you think. Ozone. Pine. Dead leaves. The wet, mossy bark of a fallen tree. Blood. Bad meat.

He looms over you. Snout inches from your cheekbone. The puff of his ragged breath glues uncomfortably to the sticky tears on your face. The air that rattles in and out of his lungs is uneven. Choppy. Inhale too deep. Exhale too shallow. It morphs into snarling rataplan. In-in, out. Inout. In, ininin, out.

Your eyes burn. If your heart beats any harder, any faster, you think you might go into shock. Cardiac arrest. Killed by—

Fear.

That there's blood on his muzzle. You smell it when he leans in close, snout pressing cold and slimy against your cheek.

You're not sure why you do it. Muscle memory, maybe. But your hand lifts. Falls to his head. Nails scratching through matted, oily fur.

He's still staring at you. Whale-eyed. Something inside you whispers not to look. That if you turn your head, all the things hidden under the silk web will bubble to the surface. Things like—

He's big. Too big. Your growing boy.

He smells. He reeks. Got into the garbage again.

He's acting strange. Wrong. He's just scared.

He's going to eat you alive. You love him.

This thing isn't your dog—

He swings his head toward you suddenly, maw open wide, peeling back from those sharp, stained teeth; tongue lulling out—oh god, oh god—and he licks your cheek.

Panic bubbles out of your throat in the shape of a laugh. A giggle. You're going crazy, you think. Hysterical. But you let him lick your face, swiping his too hot tongue over the tears on your cheek. Your nose. Licking into the corners of your eyes. Over your forehead, chin. Jaw.

Its only when his muzzle slides up to your lips do you flinch back. Pull away. "No. N—no. Bad bad. Go—go to sleep, baby."

He huffs, and you stare—resolute, empty—at the blankets when he drops his head down, licking slowly at your rabbiting pulse. Teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck. Nibbling, pinching with his sharp incisors. The gossamer falls. The sheet is pulled back.

The thing stares at you with a hideous, devastating want on its borrowed face. Primordial. Archiac. It's hunger. It's greed. Its a lamb in the lion's den. And you—

You pull the sheet back up. Slowly slide back to the pillows below. Eyes fixed on the ceiling as he looms over you. Your baby boy. There's a huff. A quiet exhale through its nose, and then you feel it move. Twisting. Turning. Curling up against your side, body supine and made of strong, hard muscle. The rough scrape of its fur feels like a beard. Coarse. Wry. Spread out and matted down against its canine body. Burning like a furnace. Reeking of brimstone.

As he settles in his spot, resting his heavy head on your belly (possessively—owner, pet; the lines blur as he flicks his gaze toward you, watchful now and still as heavy, dizzyingly intense as before), you lay awake staring at the ceiling. It'll pass in the morning, you think. He must have eaten something bad. Got into the garbage again. You'll take him to the vet, maybe.

(leave him there—)

He's fine. He's just a little sick, is all. Agitated. It's going to storm tonight. He can feel it in the air. In his joints. Everything will be fine—

Outside, something yowls. The patio door rattles.

Scratch, scratch, scratch—

He huffs, lifting his head with a small snarl pulling on his waxy muzzle. Eyes narrowing into slits. Glaring into the hallway. To the patio.

"Easy, baby," you quaver, and curl your hands into his damp fur. "It's just the wind. It's just the wind—"

Another huff. It sounds rougher this time. Deeper. Masculine. Human.

When he settles back against you, you feel bare skin sliding along your thigh, and realise that the nightmare has just begun.

"Baby? Could get used tae tha'. Are ye gonnae ca' me a good boy too?"

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Ride ‘Em, Cowgirl! (Ace x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Cowboy!Ace D. Portgas x Writer!Reader (Strangers to FWBs to Lovers)

Synopsis: As the author of some famous smutty romance novels, you decide to take a vacation in the countryside for a while to get over your breakup and work on your new book but you suffer from writer’s block. However, a meet-cute situation with a sexy farmhand who lives next door might be able to help you kill two birds with one stone.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+; Sexual Tension; Highkey Flirting; Tongue Kissing; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Clit Stimulation; Doggystyle; Nipple Piercings; Cowgirl/Riding; Ace Puts His Hat on Your Head While You Take His Big D*ck; Dom!Ace/sub!Reader; Reader Cums 2x; Creampie; Strangers to FWBs to Lovers; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had a MAJOR cowboy brain rot all summer & decided to write something as the season is ending. I love me some Ace 🥺🥺 him & his big, silly, sexy ass…I miss him. He didn’t d*e in my universe. ENJOY LOVELIES!! 💋💋���🏾🫶🏾 -Jazz

**********

While the countryside is beautiful, the absence of reception is not.

You sit in the driver’s seat of your rental, the AC cranked up high though you’re still sweating from anxiety and panic. Your pits are perspiring despite the cute little sundress you threw on to match your sunhat and sunglasses. You felt like a movie star boarding the train here, but now, all of that feeling of glamor is gone.

A thrush forest and fields of land surround you on the dirt road you’ve been driving down for over fifteen minutes now since you got off the train that put you in the countryside. You had originally come out here to indulge in nature, thinking it would help clear your head for your new book and heal your heart over your recent breakup that caused your writer’s block.

You’re a city girl, born and raised miles away from here. Despite your cute little one-bedroom-one-bathroom studio apartment, you get tired of being surrounded by skyrise buildings and smoggy streets when you write. You thought a change of scenery would do you some good, especially to distract you from the sight of the same couch and bed where your ex used to make love to you on.

But now, after seeing nothing but trees, grass, and cows for the past five minutes since you got lost, you’re becoming sick of it. You haven’t seen a single person or building since the train station!

“Dammit,” you huff, begrudgingly tossing your phone into the passenger’s seat with your laptop case and suitcase. You hate getting lost! You must’ve taken a left instead of a right and then steered off the trail your GPS set for you.

You keep the AC and gas running as you get out of the car. The heat immediately slaps you in the face and the sun glares at you, causing you to slide your sunglasses on top of your head used to hold your braids back onto your eyes. You shield the hot rays with your hand and look down the road. Nothing. Not even a barn. You’re completely stranded.

No people. No reception. You were never going to make it to that sweet, quaint little Airbnb you rented. You were scrolling on Booking.com you’ve seen so many commercials for three weeks ago when you came across the little cabin with central air, a wine cellar, and a back patio overlooking a lake. It is only ten miles from town and near some hiking trails for running.

You booked it immediately and spoke to the owner, a sweet Southern widow who let you rent it for the entire week for a cut because of your books. “I love your work!” she gushed over the phone. “I’m so honored you’re choosin’ my little home to help you write a new book! I’ll stack more wine in the cellar just for you!”

You may never get to enjoy that wine, the lake, or some sunbathing on the patio. You lean against your carhood, hopeless and exhausted. Maybe this will be a good inspiration for your book: a city girl gets lost in the countryside and realizes that a change of scenery can’t fix heartbreak. Then she dies of a broken heart (and starvation) in her rental and when someone finally finds her, she’ll be nothing but bones because the cows ate her.

There your whacked-out mind goes. You tilt your head to the sunny, blue sky, hoping God can see you and have mercy on your soul. “God,” you groan. “Please just send me someone.”

“Hey, there!” a sudden cheery, male voice chirps from behind you. You shriek and jump, turning around to face the stranger. “Shit!” you gasp, putting a hand on your jumping heart. “You scared the hell outta me!”

When your heart finally settles down, you realize just how cute the stranger is. He is tall and fit judging by how tight his black V-neck is under his flannel. A cowboy hat hits low on his nest of black curls and an adorable smattering of freckles adorn his cheeks. His jeans are just as tight with a large belt buckle on the front of his leather belt and his cowboy boots are scuffed.

It’s like he stepped out of a girl’s wettest Western dream, especially with the dog tags hanging from his thick neck and the leather bracelet on his wrist. He is hotter than the sun you’re standing in.

“Apologies,” he says, stifling a chuckle with his hands up. “I promise I don’t mean no farm. I just happened to see you just sittin’ here on the road and couldn’t help but wonder if you’re stealin’ my job.” His brown eyes are filled with humor and playfulness.

“Job?” you parrot, confused. “What are you—“

Suddenly, the hot stranger places two fingers on each hand in his mouth and blows a loud, shrill whistle. Immediately, each of the cows grazing in the grass and wandering in the road gather together near him. “C’mon, y’all!” he shouts. “Over here by the pretty truck! Out of the pretty lady’s way!”

You flush at his compliment but don’t focus too much on it. You’re too busy focusing on the cherry red pickup truck with the muddy wheels that you now see some yards behind your rental. How did you not hear him drive up?

The cows follow the cowboy and surround his truck, mooing and chewing. He leaves them there and comes running back to you, panting. “Sorry ‘bout that. Them cows ain’t too bright sometimes. One left the farm down the road and all of ‘em followed, so I got sent out to get ‘em.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, that takes care of one problem. Thanks.”

He raises one eyebrow, curious. “One problem?” he ponders aloud. “Anything I can help you with, miss? Tell me if I’m wrong but ya look kinda…” He pauses, looking for the right word.

“Lost?” you sigh. He sniggers, shaking his head. “Distressed.” You take a moment to think about this. You really shouldn’t tell him since he’s a total stranger despite his cute freckles and eyes that remind you of a puppy’s. “Well, I am,” you sigh. “But nothing I can’t handle. Thank you again, Mr. uh….”

The cowboy smiles brightly at you and it’s like a punch in the face. He is quite handsome. “Ace,” he replies. “Ace D. Portgas. No, ‘Mr’, please. Just Ace.”

He puts out one of his big ringed hands for a shake. You slowly take it in your smaller one, noticing how calloused and rough his palm is…and how warm and strong it is. “Ace then,” you say, quickly pulling away. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N L/N.”

Ace’s eyes fill with recognition immediately at the sound of your name. “The writer?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. You immediately break out into a smile, happy with the recognition. “So you’ve heard of me.”

He nods, shoving a hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah, your stuff is pretty popular with the female population over here. I’ve seen some of your books in the town’s local bookstore before. Where ya from?”

“[City Name],” you reply, beaming from the newfound information You always love to hear about people loving and reading your work. Ace hums, nodding in understanding. “Ah, so you’re a city girl,” he draws, his Southern accent making a big appearance here. It makes something in your stomach grow warm.

You place your hands on your hips, pursing your lips. “Are you about to give me that ‘the country is better than the city’ crap?” you playfully scoff.

Ace gapes at you, playing into your mock disagreement. “What?! No way….except we’ve got better people.” You laugh, giving him that one. “Oh, that I agree with! Everyone here is so nice!”

Literally everyone. The train conductor, the workers at the train station, the nice man who held the door for you…maybe even this sexy cowboy. It must be the clean air and environment without the buildings, hustle, and crowds of people. “So what’s a talented gal like you doin’ all the way down here?” He curiously asks. “Ya got family here?”

Despite your situation, you find yourself enjoying conversing with Ace. It’s easy, unlike with your ex. “I’m writing a new book at the Airbnb I rented…which I’m no closer to getting to ‘cause I can’t follow directions.”

Ace’s smile fades. “Really? Where’s it at? Maybe I can help ya get there.” Your blood pressure rises as your brain begins to go through every possible reason to not give this man the address to your weekend home. “Um….”

Realization flickers in Ace’s eyes and he nods in understanding. “I get it: stranger danger. If ya want, I can tell you the directions and let ya drive off. Promise.” He puts his right hand up as if he’s on the stand at a trial. “I only wanna help a celebrity out.”

His friendly smile and nature seem genuine despite that twist in your stomach telling you differently. However, you don’t hear any warning signs blaring in your head and your gut isn’t giving you that kick of intuition. Throwing caution to the wind, you tell him: “It’s on 21 North Oakwood Lane.”

You watch as Ace’s eyes widen in excitement like a kid on Christmas. “Forreal?! That’s where my farm is at! I bet my neighbor is the one you’re rentin’ from! Mable Chestnut ring any bells?”

Your brain immediately reacts to the Airbnb owner’s name. “Yeah, that’s her!” you exclaim. “You live there too?” He nods, beaming brightly at you. “Yes, ma’am, and you’re a long way away from that, honey. You must’ve taken a wrong turn completely.”

You huff, feeling the stress return. Of course, you took a wrong turn. Unbeknownst to you, Ace feels bad for the pretty woman standing in front of him and instantly wants to make her feel better. So he clears his throat, gaining your attention. “I’ll tell ya what: if you want, I can hop in my pickup truck and lead you to your place. I know these trails like the back of my hand.”

“I’m sure you do,” you reply, laughing slightly. “You’re a cowboy, aren’t you?” His lips twist in a lopsided smirk that makes your insides curl. “Yes, ma’am. That and a farmhand. I wrangle horses, cows, bulls, anythin’ you can think of. My job requires that I know the ins and outs of my town.”

You can tell he’s telling the truth, but the logical part of you is still wary. “I dunno,” you admit, awkwardly playing with the hem of our dress. “I mean, you seem sweet and legit, but I barely know you and—“

“Oh, you found ‘em!” a voice rings out. You turn, seeing a blue truck with a wooden crate stopping next to Ace’s truck. An older couple with silver-white hair and matching boots come sliding out of the front, looking relieved to see their cows. The wife, in her flowery skirt, whistles at the cows. ��My precious babies! Get y’all asses on that damn truck!”

She begins berating them as the animals climb up the wooden ramp to the cart, piling in one after the other. Her husband, wearing jeans, flannel, and a cowboy hat, helps her by whistling to them. Once they’re all in, he locks the crate and walks up to Ace with his wife, giving you a hello as they do. “Oh, Ace, what would I do without you?” The wife sighs, taking the young cowboy’s hand in her wrinkled ones. “I’ll have to bake you more of that apple pie to thank you.”

Ace smiles, tipping his hat at them. “It’s no problem, Mr. And Mrs. Phelps. Just doin’ my job.” Mr. Phelps pats him on the back, laughing. “Well, you prove to be fit for your job every time, young man.”

“I’ll deliver the pie tomorrow,” Mrs. Phelps says with a wink. “You still live at 20 Oakwood Lane?” Ace nods and thanks them before the old couple walk back to their truck, get in, and go driving off with their cows in the back.

He turns back to you, a smug smile on his face. With defeat, you give in to his proposal. “Okay, fine,” you sigh. “We’ll try it your way.”

He grins, bowing slightly in thanks, grateful for you putting your trust in him. But it ain’t like you’ve got a choice at this point. But if you had said no, maybe he would’ve called the cops or something to help you. He seems like a genuine, sweet type of man…but then again, you thought the same about your ex before he cheated. “I won’t letcha down, missy. Now let’s getcha to your luxury suite!”

He turns and races off to his truck. As he does, the back of his flannel floats up, giving you a peek of his backside. Your mouth waters at the sight of his plump, firm ass in those jeans. Maybe you will have a nice time here after all.

After getting in your car and following Ace’s truck down the road, he takes you in the right direction that your GPS states. You decided to turn it on just to make sure Ace wasn’t taking you somewhere else. The drive is only eight minutes and finally, trees fall away to a beautiful clearing of brick homes and farms down a dirt road.

You finally come to your Airbnb and it’s just as cute in real life as it was in its photos. The white tiled roof and window outline combined with the buttery yellow color of the outside of the house reminds you of a frosted cake as you park your car in front of it. The house is located on ten acres of land that the owner owns and tends to, including a fruit orchard that you most definitely will enjoy tomorrow.

You go up to the azalea bushes planted at the white picket fence surrounding the cobbled stone walkway and steps. Bending down, you move one of the stones–a gray one shaped like a heart–and take the house key from under it. Ms. Chestnut made sure to tell you where to find it before she left.

Clutching the key to your chest, you turn and find Ace lugging your bags out of the backseat of your car, including your laptop case. As he does, you watch as his arms flex enticingly so. He has taken off his flannel, probably too hot in the afternoon heat to wear even the lightest of long-sleeved tops.

“Aaaand here we are,” he announces, bringing the luggage up to you. You go to take your suitcase, feeling bad for his work. “Oh, you don’t have to—“

“Nonsense! It’s barely heavy for me.” He gives you a wink before nodding at the locked door, looking just as excited as you.

You snort and unlock the door, giving way to a gorgeous living room with hardwood floors and a sunroom that meets an expensive-looking dining room filled with fine China dishes. On the left is an older-looking kitchen with a cartoon cat cuckoo clock and an adorable fruit-shaped cooking set and a washroom that leads outside to the back patio.

Ace whistles approvingly, looking around the house. “Beautiful place. I can see why ya rented here to write your new book. What’s it about, if I may ask?” He runs his boots on the ‘Welcome’ rug at the door before coming in with your luggage. He hands you your laptop before placing your suitcase and bag down gently on the floor.

You don’t know why you tell him, but something inside you tells you that it’s okay to do so: “Heartbreak.”

You watch as the cowboy pauses and then slowly turns to stare at you. You clear your throat to appear neutral and blasè like your past relationship and how it ended don’t still sting. “I didn’t just come here to write,” you explain. “I also came here to clear my head over my recent breakup. Working helps.”

Ace’s expression is unreadable. He stands with his hands in his pockets, his jaw working slightly. You now can see that he’s chewing gum. “Long term?” he asks. You nod, fighting back tears. “Three years.”

Three years of what you thought was the beginning of forever for you. You had met his parents; took trips with him; moved him into your apartment a year after you started dating. It was so nice when he came home to you after his shifts as a lawyer, the both of you snuggling with takeout and puffing on some weed to calm the nerves. You loved those nights with him.

But then those nights became ones of loneliness and suspicion when he wouldn’t come home till the AM. You started fighting and growing more apart until one day, while he was showering, you answered his phone on a call meant for him. Clearly, because the girl on the other line was asking you if you were still on for her place that night thinking you were your man…who apparently wasn’t just your man.

After denying it, he admitted to sleeping with his coworker for two months. “You were so busy with your books!” he had argued. “I needed you too, Y/N!”

Of course, that didn’t fly with you. As a grown-ass man, he was more than capable of communicating with you and never did. So, after three years, you ended your relationship and he moved out within a week. Learning to live without him is more than hard, but you’re learning with every step.

Ace whistles as if winded by your answer. “I’m very sorry to hear that, but one thing I know is that you won’t get no clearin’ your head out in the city. No offense.” He gives you a joking smile that brightens the room. “None taken,” you giggle. “That’s why I came out here.”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “That was a good idea. You may never wanna go home though.” He stands there like a tall, sexy tree you’d like to climb. His personality and energy only make your attraction to him much worse.

You don’t know if he feels the tension in the air too, but his smile fades and his eyes fill with a spark you think you just imagine. Finally, he clears his throat and plasters on a smile. “Well, I’ll leave ya to it then. If you ever need anythin’, just gimme a knock across the way.”

You walk him to the door and he points down the road at a small ranch with a red barn where you hear distant neighing horses. “That little ranch next to the red barn is me,” he explains. You could walk there with how close he is. Knowing that makes your stomach twirl.

All you can do is nod and he bids you farewell before walking down the steps in his boots. You watch him, eyeing his flexing back muscles, suntanned shoulders, and the dusting of freckles on his skin like star constellations. He is almost down the road when you give in to your urges.

“Ace, wait!” you call. He stops, turning to face you. “Do you have a CashApp? Or I can pay you in cash.”

But the cowboy shakes his head, smiling at you. “Keep it,” he says. “Just lookin’ out for a pretty woman.” He tips his hat at you, that spark returning in his eyes. “Enjoy your stay, Y/N.”

Then he turns and walks off, taking that beautiful back and juicy ass with him. You decide right then that you’ll definitely enjoy your stay here with that cowboy being just one knock away.

*********

“Fuck, Y/N, you are soooo lucky!” Nami whines into your ear. “I wish I was laying out in the sun by the wate with my tits out too!”

“My tits aren’t out,” you snort. “I’m just in a bikini top.” You take a sip of your Moscato chilling in a glass of ice cubes and sliced oranges, sighing peacefully at the crisp, fruity taste.

Placing it back on the small table with your laptop, you look down at your phone screen where your beautiful, redheaded friend’s face is. It is the next day of your writer’s vacay and you’re spending it stretched out on the back patio in your bikini and sunglasses, lounging on a beach chair near the lake that sparkles and shimmers in the summer sun.

“That still counts!” Nanami argues. “You’ll get a tan for days! Why couldn’t you take me with you?” You scoff, rolling your eyes behind your ray bans. “Girl, aren’t you on an anniversary trip up in the mountains with your woman? Your Airbnb is just as beautiful as mine, plus you got a great view!”

Nami, your best friend and soulmate, is out in the mountains with her long-term girlfriend and soon-to-be-fiance, Robin who is so beautiful that you swore you had a crush on her when you first met her.

Both, along with a couple of other friends you’ve made over the years, surrounded you with love and support during your breakup. Zoro and Sanji, the married couple you’ve been tight with since you moved into your complex, even told you they’d beat your ex up if you asked them to. Of course, you said no, but you fantasize about it to make you laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s raining here,” Nami sighs, laying back on a pillow. “We’ve been cooped up in the house all day, but we do have a dinner reservation at a five-star restaurant tonight that’ll make up for it. She knows how to make me happy.” She breaks out into a dreamy smile you know all too well about.

“You’re so lucky,” you sigh, envious of your friend’s love. “You guys have been together for a long time though. Five years! That’s crazy!”

Nami nods, still looking in love and happy. “And it takes a lot of work, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. You’ll find that again, too Y/N…with the right person, of course. That scummy ex of yours was just a closed door.”

You peer out over the water, seeing a sliver of Ace’s farm through the thrush, green forest. From this angle, you can see the wagging tails of horses in their shed and hear the crowing of roosters. “I guess,” you sigh.

As if reading your mind, Nami discusses the man who has been on your mind since yesterday. “Well, how ‘bout you do some practice on that cute cowboy you told me about?” she suggestively purrs. “You are there for a week. Why not use it to dust off that–”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you cut her off, putting up a hand. “I’m not having any kind of sex with a stranger, no matter how cute or sweet he is. Besides, I don’t even know how old he is! He could be a fuckin’ teenager for all I know.”

Despite you making logical excuses for not going over to his house and hopping on that man’s dick right now, you still can’t stop yourself from thinking about him. Yeste​​rday afternoon, you went out into town to shop for some cute dresses and groceries for meals (including the wine), thinking this would help distract you from nasty thoughts of him.

But alas, when night fell and you finished your glass of wine and your much-needed blunt to end the evening, you​​r dreams were all about him whispering dirty, sweet nothings to you in his Southern drawl while he bounced you on his cock. You were so pent up that you had to relieve yourself with the toy you packed and then take a cold shower…both did NOTHING to tame you.

You want him bad. You’ve never felt such an attraction to someone before. Not since your ​​ex, anyway. It’s exciting but also alarming. ​​Your plan wasn’t to use a man to get over your breakup or writer’s block. Speaking of which, you haven’t written much of a first draft for your book yet. You most that you’ve gotten is a plot outline and you feel even that is lackluster.

“Well, who is he?” Nami pushes. “You didn’t even tell me his name!” You once again roll your eyes and lower your voice as if the cowboy can hear you over the lake: “It’s Ace D. Portgas.”

Nami’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. “Omigod!” she squeals into your ears, making you jump. “Y/N, I know him! You remember my friend Luffy’s adopted older brother? The one who owns his own farm?”

Your mind traces back to the moment any of this was revealed to you and you realize that it was a year ago during a trip to the zoo where Luffy gushed over the horses and said his brother trains them. “Oh, my God, that’s him?!” you gasp, laughing in disbelief. “The wealthy one? What a small world!”

“Now you have a reason to talk to him, girl!” Nami encourages you. You go over to his place, ask him for a drink, and spend the rest of your trip in his bed…and then you’ll take me on a cruise when he cuffs you.” She winks at you, but you know she’s serious.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you chuckle. “He’s a nice guy, but I didn’t come here to hook up with no cowboy. I came here to relax and write my book.” The redhead pulls a look, rolling her eyes. “And what better way to do all of that than get with a country boy? Besides, that would make for a great story.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Whatever,” you scoff as she giggles. “Just go and tell Robin I said hi. And if I do happen to build a relationship with the cowboy, she’ll be the one I take on a cruise.” Nami, with her dramatic ass, gapes at you. “Take that back!”

“Love you, byeeee!” You blow her a kiss before ending the FaceTime call and lowering it facedown on the table to avoid the sun burning the screen. You take another sip of your wine and then hunker back down to your book that you’re no closer to outlining.

So far in the plot, a woman named Suzi has received notice of a house she has inherited from her deceased grandmother whom she realizes has many secrets, including setting her up to marry Johnson, a wealthy owner of a wine garden that her grandma somehow knows.

But all those ideas go down the drain when you happen to look up and see the man who has been haunting your frequent dreams. And he’s shirtless. Though his back is to you, that doesn’t mean Ace’s back doesn’t make your stomach flutter like it’s filled with butterflies. He is busy tending to his horses, filling their drinking station with fresh water and cleaning out bails of old hay. His arm and back muscles flex in the sun that glints off of the sweat dripping off of his tanned skin. “Oh, fuck,” you exhale.

He’s a beautiful, beautiful man. You can almost taste the sweat off of his skin as you lick up his skin and neck. His back is tatted with a purple skull with a bone caught between his teeth. Your body reacts just as your mind does, arousal making you throb. “Dammit,” you sigh, slamming your laptop closed. You definitely can’t write in this condition. This man is making everything too damn hard for you!

Now you know another distraction won’t do anything for you. You need to just swallow your pride and fear of rejection, and just go over there!

To not make it seem like you just came straight out the house to see him, you go inside to strip off your bikini and change into some sneakers, running shorts, and a sports bra that holds up your girls. You take your phone and house key with you before cutting through the woods for a short time towards Ace’s place, lightly jogging as you do. The sun glints through the trees and sweat begins to gather on your forehead and under your boobs.

Finally, you cut th​​rough the woods to the front of Ace’s house and nearly scream at the sudden sight of a caramel-colored horse galloping in front of you, nearly knocking you over. “Suzi!” Ace calls. “Dammit, don’t run in the street!” He whistles, causing the horse to stop before she gets any farther away and flips her tail.

You turn, finding the shirtless cowboy standing behind you. You nearly combust at the sight of his cut abs, the silver bars in his pink nipples, and the scattering of tattoos on his skin. One is of a skull engulfed in flames on his shoulder and the others are two names inked across his wrists.

“Oh, hey!” he chirps, looking happy to see you despite your short-circuiting brain. “What a surprise. You decided to take a break to come see little ol’ me?”

He puts his hands on his hips, drawing your eyes to his V-line. “I-I was just takin’ a jog,” you stammer. “And I just wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday. Sorry I was so hesitant.” Ace looks happy nonetheless and you think you even see his eyes quickly trace over ​​your outfit. “Don’t even apologize. You enjoyin’ yourself so far?”

He snaps at Suzi who comes tottering up to him, her hooves clicking. You nod, admiring the pretty steed. “Yeah, you’ve got a nice little home here. Went out shopping yesterday and did some writing today.”

The cowboy nods, petting Suzi’s side. “Uh-huh, I saw you soakin’ up those rays earlier…n-not that I was starin’ at you! I just happened to look over and see you.” His face grows adorably red at his jumbled words. It only makes him more endearing to you.

“I get it,” you giggle. “I came over to pay you for yesterday, but if you still aren’t gonna take my money, maybe I can pay you back with lunch or a drink?”

The words just slip out, possibly because of how confident you feel over Ace’s blush and nervous blunder. You don’t know what you expect, but definitely not what he says next:

“Oh,” is all he replies with.

The silence that follows makes you want to die. “O-Or not if you’re busy,” you quickly add. “Or if you don’t want to! I just wanted to repay you.” You bite your lip to shut yourself up, feeling as if you never should’ve said anything. That damn Nami! Why did she have to encourage you to do this?

But as luck would have it, Ace agrees. “I was gonna say yes to lunch, but I’m a little booked right now with the farm. I’ve got people tourin’ my place tomorrow, so I need to make sure it sparkles. Does dinner work better for ya?”

The horse’s tail flips as if to say, ‘Say yes, stupid!’ and you nod, speechless. “Dinner ​​sounds great,” you reply, doing your best to not break out into a big, goofy smile. The caramel horse softly winnies and Ace snorts, patting the horse’s behind. “This is Suzi,” he chuckles. “She’s extremely dramatic. I got two other ones at the stable.”

You smile at the horse, admiring the way her blonde mane looks in the sun. “She’s beautiful.” Unbeknownst to you, Ace admires you admiring the horse. “You like horses?” You nod, gently patting Suzi’s soft fur. “Love ‘em. I wanted to be a cowgirl every Halloween.”

“You wanna see the others? I can give ya a tour of the farm, if ya want.”

“Alright, alright, we’re comin’!” he calls. “And these are my Stallions, Sam and Sabo, named after one of my brothers. He lives all the way in London workin’ as an actor.”

“That’s amazing.” “They look like they need a brush, poor things.”

“It’s the heat. They shed a lot in the summer.” “Why don’t you let me?” you ask. “You seem so tired. Don’t worry, I pick up fast.”

“Just slowly brush their sides,” he explains, motioning his hands as an example. “It relaxes them. And don’t worry about scarin’ em; they’re well-behaved and they love attention.” “Hey, there, boy,” you coo. “I’m just gonna brush you.”

“Not bad for a city girl,” he whispers in your ear. “Oh, so you got jokes now,” you scoff. “Well, your horses seem to like me more than their owner. I think that proves I’d make a great cowgirl.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. “You ever ridden one before?” “Uh…no,” you hesitantly answer. “Not since I was six at a petting zoo.”

Ace gives you a smile full of mirth and trust. “You wanna try now?”

You have no idea what propels you to say yes, but suddenly find yourself standing beside Sabo in the open field while Ace straps a leather saddle on his back. He then turns to you and opens his arms. “I’ll help ya up,” he says, flashing you a smile. “And if ya ever feel uncomfortable, I promise you we’ll cut the ride short.”

“There we go,” he huffs. “Now up I go.” With a grunt, he carefully hoists himself up on Sabo’s back and straddles the seat behind you. You bite your lip at the throb you feel between your thighs at the feeling of his strong arms coming around you to hold onto the reins with you. His thighs and chest brush against your back, the scent of sweat and pine rolling off of him.

“Now, gently tug on the reins twice and click your tongue,” he instructs. Nervously, you do as he says, his presence a comfort for you. You wouldn’t know what to do with this big-ass horse alone. Sabo slowly begins to walk in the field, taking a languid pace that is relaxing and not at all as scary​​ as you thought.

“See?” Ace laughs. “Not bad, right? You can use the reins to steer him or go faster, just like a car. If ya want him to stop, just tug on the reins once. If ya wanna go a little faster, just snap the reins so he’ll totter, like this.”

He helps you give them a slight snap and Sabo picks up the pace. You gasp as you feel his back jump with you and Ace on top, your body instantly tensing.

“Hang on,” he chuckles. “It’ll get a little bumpy.” You side-eye him, your heart about to explode out of your chest. “A little?” you scoff and that makes him laugh even harder.

His thumbs begin to stroke your knuckles, trying to calm you down. “You’re so sense, sweetie,” he coos. “I promise you’re okay. Just enjoy the ride.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only arousing you more.

However, despite the images of him fucking you stupid in your mind, you fight against your visceral reaction to change and relax. “Good, good!” he praises. “You really are a fast learner! Good boy, Sabo! Take us home!”

Sabo turns around and totters back to the farm, bouncing you on top. You giggle, feeling free with the sun and wind in your hair. When Sabo comes to a stop, Ace jumps off first.

He holds out his arms for you and you reach down, clinging yourself to him as he takes you off of the horse. Once your feet are on the ground, you sigh, relieved, but an underwhelming feeling descends upon you at ground level again. It was exciting being on Sabo’s back above ground, but you think most of the thrilling, excited feeling you got was from Ace being so close to you.

“Nicely done, city girl. I knew ya had it in ya to ride a horse.” “Well, it helps when I’ve got a great teacher, country boy,” you giggle, but it comes out way more seductive than you meant it to.

Thank goodness the splashing sounds of the horses slurping down their water stops you because who knows what would’ve happened? “Uh…drink?” he sheepishly asks. “I’ve got fresh lemonade in the fridge.”

But as soon as you’re in the house, Ace suddenly whirls you around to face him and grabs you before his lips finally mesh with yours. You make a small noise of surprise as he twirls you around, but it quickly melts into a soft moan as his soft, juicy lips press against yours. They are just as heavenly as you thought they’d be. The kiss is tentative and careful at first, but the more you press into him, the more passionate and open Ace becomes.

His tongue slowly licks your bottom lip and you part your lips, granting him access. The taste of whiskey on his tongue and the wet, sucking sounds of your heavy makeout make your shorts feel tighter and your nipples hard under your bra. Ace’s hands caress your back while your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer until you’re sharing the same air.

When he pulls away, he is softly panting and his eyes are ablaze. “Sorry,” he pants. “I just couldn’t resist. I’ve been wantin’ to do that since yesterday.”

You smile, leaning in to peck his lips again. You can’t get enough of him now that you’ve had him. “Don’t apologize,” you whisper. “I have, too.” Oh, and have you!

Ace smiles, looking pleased to hear this. You’re just as happy to know that he’s been sweating over you the way you have been for him since yesterday. “You’re here for a week, right?” he huskily asks and you nod, too afraid to speak. You don’t want to ruin this.

His big hands slide down lower and lower until they meet your ass. Finally. “Then if it’s alright with you, darlin’, I’d like to make your first time out in the country one you’ll never forget. If this is just a summer fling to you then that’s cool. I just wanna make you feel good and make ya forget all about that asshole ex of yours back home.”

The passionate promise burning in his eyes is too tempting to resist. You run your hands down his chest, feeling him up and letting him know just how much you want this. “I’d love that,” you purr. “Now kiss me again, cowboy.”

Ace doesn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, his lips sweep yours up again as he grips you to him, his hands caressing your thighs. You’re so deep in his kiss that you barely feel the wall suddenly pressing against your back. You moan as Ace presses himself into you, his hard body like another wall squeezing you between the one behind you. He takes your arms and pins them over your head, stealing the air from your lungs.

He chuckles, smiling against your desperate lips. His hands move unde your thighs and he scoops you up with ease, making you feel oh-so little. He laughs at your little gasp as you find yourself hovering off of the floor in his arms. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he says. “You’ll enjoy this ride. Bedroom?” You nod, wrapping your limbs around him like a koala bear, and away he goes with you in tow, thunking around in his cowboy boots and hat.

You get a tiny tour of his place when he goes upstairs and finally makes it to his bedroom that is filled with sunlight pouring in through the window. “Don’t close the blinds,” you purr as he kicks the door shut with his foot. “I wanna see you in the light.”

He smirks, loving your freakiness. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, tasting your lips once more. “Now if it’s alright with you, I’d like to get these clothes off ya.”

You giggle as he sets you down on the bed before joining you. “The feelin’ is mutual, cowboy,” you sexily reply. “Just leave the hat and boots on…please.” You feel your face grow hot as Ace laughs at your request, taking your chin in his hand. “You’re a freaky one,” he purrs, biting his bottom lip. “I like that. You’re a woman who knows what she wants.”

Of course, you are! Any girl alone with a sexy cowboy would know what they want and right now, you want this man naked and to fuck you dumb. As you share heated, sloppy kisses, you help Ace strip off your bra, kicks, socks, and shorts, leaving you in on your panties. He takes a moment to ogle your body as you stand between his thighs.

“Fuck,” he huffs and you grow hot, realizing that this is the first time you’ve heard him cuss. “You’re a work of art, babydoll…is it okay if I call you that?” If it ain’t your hard nipples that give him a yes, it’s the kiss you give him. “Yes,” you whisper. Yes to everything. Ace grabs you and begins to kiss up your body, gently sucking on your nipples and licking your neck.

“I’m all sweaty,” you whine, slightly self-conscious. The cowboy raises a brow at you as if to say, ‘And?’ before scooping you up into his arms and tossing you onto the bed.

Now on your stomach, Ace takes advantage by bending your knees and hiking your ass up for him. “Stop,” he chortles. “I’m from the South, darlin’. A little sweat don’t mean nothin’ to me…now pipe down and let me enjoy you.”

You’ve never been with a man who loves eating pussy. You’ve never been with a man that eats pussy quite like Ace. But you should’ve known when he finally got your panties down and finally saw your exposed, glistening pussy all for him. “Goddamn,” he exhaled before spreading your asscheeks and giving right into the depths of your cunt.

His first few licks are gentle and slow as he gets to know your body. He asks you what you like and what you dislike. What makes you tick. The fact that he’s so interested in what you want and like makes you even wetter. Once you tell him and he gets right to work, it doesn’t take long for you to melt into the bed as his mouth works your pussy.

You grip the pillow now, your moans, whimpers, and whines falling onto Ace’s ears like a sweet symphony of music. “Ohhh, fuck, Ace!” you sing into the pillow, pushing your ass back into his face. He welcomes you, his hands gripping and smacking each cheek in time with his magical tongue lashes against your clit.

“That’s it, sing for me, darlin’,” he coos into your pussy, his words slightly muffled. “You sound so fuckin’ good.” He then pulls away from your pussy to slide his tongue up to your ass, much to your enjoyment. While he does this, he takes one finger and lightly glides it up and down your slit, sending shivers and sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

“Your ex ever do this for you?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your lowerback. “Did he ever take care of you like this?” He moves down to give an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy, emitting a loud moan from you. “Or this gorgeous girl?” he purrs against your clit. “Tell me.” Gently, his finger begins to prope your hole, sinking into your folds.

You gasp, gripping the pillow. “N-No,” you stammer. Ace makes a noise of approval. “I knew it. This cunt of yers is just too damn wet for me…not that I’m complainin’. You taste so, so good, little darlin’!” His tongue slides down your asscrack to your clit again, sucking on it while he fingers you.

You are a writhing, squirming mess, grinding your hips back into him, riding that wave of pleasure. The more he licks, sucks, and strokes, the more that knot in your core tightens, threatening to snap and cause you to spill all over his tongue. But his ministrations also cause something else: need. A desperate, blinding, unbridled need for him inside of you. “Stop, Ace!” you beg and he does, immediately. “I need you to fuck me. Please! I wanna cum around your ​​cock!”

Ace pauses, taken aback by your request. But then you hear the joyous, thrilling sound of his belt buckle jingling and his zipper coming down. “So naughty,” he chuckles. “How’d you know I like naughty girls? You must’ve come outta my wettest dreams, babydoll.” You feel his cock slide against your slit, warm, hard, and thick.

You both moan as he taps it against your clit, his head nudging against the little bundle of nerves. “And per your request,” he says, laughter in his voice, “I’ll keep the hat and boots on for ya. But I want ya to look at me while I’m inside you, okay?”

Slowly, you turn your head and behold your eyes to the sexy man sporting his cowboy hat, boots, and nipple piercings behind you, his eyes burning with want. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his thick cock and heavy balls that are begging to be tasted. But later. Right now, you need him in you. “Yes, sir,” you purr. “Now please: fuck me.”

Wordlessly, Ace grasps your hip with one hand and fulfills your request by taking his cock and sinking himself inside of you. His head sinking between your soft, wet folds cause you both to gasp, the contact explosively pleasurable. Ace goes slow, filling you to the brim with every slow thrust of his hips. It’s unbearable, almost agonizing how slow he’s moving.

Ace senses your change in demeanor and gently pulls out, leaving only his cockhead in you. “You alright?” he whispers, worried. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf. Do you want me to stop?”

The very thought of losing this feeling makes you desperate. You turn to him, your hair a sexed-out mess and your eyes lidded. “No,” you exhale, giving him a smile. “You’re just goin’ too slow.”

Instantly, all of the worry and uncertainty in Ace’s eyes disappear, replaced with only lust. A slow smirk stretches across his lips at your naughty request. “Well, why didn’t ya say so, darlin’?”

He pushes himself back in and grips your hips before pistoning into you, giving you the deep dick that you’ve been craving for months. A loud whine leaves your lips as he fucks you like you belong to him, causing your body to shake even more and that arch in your back to wobble. “Fuck me back,” he demands, his voice rough and raspy. “Don’t make me do all the work here. Take what you want from me, baby, c’mon.”

You push yourself up on your forearms and push back into him, tossing your ass back into his mind-blowing, bed-shaking, orgasmic thrusts that make you see stars behind your eyelids. Ace’s dick strokes every part of your insides while his hands grip your hip and one of your tits, molding the globe of flesh and teasing the tight nipple between his fingers. “O-Oh, my God!” you moan, your voice bouncing off of the walls. “Yes, Ace, just like that! Fuck me just like that!”

“Like what?” Ace asks, a smile evident in his voice. “Like…this?” He rolls his hips in a way that glides against your G-spot, causing you to damn near scream in pleasure. You just about hit high notes that would put Mariah Carey’s career in the dirt as Ace loops a hand between your thighs to rub your clit. You keep grinding back into him, much to his enjoyment.

He loves watching you move, your body so enticing while you squeeze around him. “God, darlin’,” he groans. “I can’t get enough of these hips. You ride me so well. Can’t wait to see how you ride my cock.”

He leans down to whisper into your ear, still pounding your pussy like it’s his profession. “I bet you’d be so good at it. I bet you’d be my good little cowgirl, wouldn’t cha? Bet you’d make me cum deep inside this pussy.”

His tongue slips against your earlobe as he begins to suck on it. You loop an arm around his neck to bring him close to you, his sweat-sticky body pressed against yours as he ruts into you from behind.

When your orgasm begins to peak, you can’t stop it and you don’t want to. This feels too good.

“F-Fuck, Ace!” you gasp. “I’m gonna…gonna cum!” Ace hums in approval, moving harder and faster, frantically rubbing your clit with his thick fingers. “Do it,” he practically begs. “Cum for me. Give me what I need.”

When you cum, you cum hard. It is so intense that it takes you a minute to make any noise as the rush of pleasure hits you, but once it does, you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard yourself make as you gush all around Ace’s cock. He grunts as your pussy hugs him, squeezing him like a vice as you coat his shaft in your cum.

“Thatta girl,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You softly whimper in acknowledgment, gripping the sheets as you ride your orgasm wave.

Once your high fades, Ace quickly pulls out as if you’ve burned him with your pussy, desperate to not cum yet. “Shit,” he hisses. “Look at how messy you made me, baby. You’ve gotta clean it up now.” He sticks his cock, shining in your juices, in your face, a lust-filled expression on his face.

The orgasm has done something to you, turning you into an insatiable, needy little slut. Suddenly feral and in need of him, you swallow his cock and slurp up all of your cum, even taking his balls in your mouth when you can. But when you’re too busy gagging all over his dick, you massage them in one hand with the other plays with his pierced nipples. Ace is enjoying himself immensely. He can’t believe his luck having such a beautiful woman in his bed, let alone a celebrity, sucking him off and teasing his overly-sensitive nipples.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he moans, tilting his head back at the feeling. “You keep doin’ all of that and I’ll cum. I still need more of ya.”

You hum in agreement, slipping off of his cock with a soft pop that your wet lips make. You look up at him through hooded eyes, making him so hard that it becomes painful. “If ya still want another round, I want you to ride me,” he huskily requests. “I wanna see this body bounce on top of me while I finally bust inside of you.”

You shiver, immediately soaked from the idea. Wordlessly, you stand on your knees and brace your hands on his chest before shoving him down onto the bed. He laughs, the sound making your heart melt, but it’s quickly replaced with a desperate moan as you climb on top of him, mounting him like he’s your own personal Stallion…or dildo. He doesn’t seem like he’d protest either.

But as you wrap a hand around his cock and bring it to meet your pussy, he stops you. “Wait, wait,” he protests. You stop, confused, until he takes his hat off and places it on your head. “Now ya look the part,” he comments, making you giggle. “Now ride me like a good little cowgirl.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You come down to take his cock inside of you, drawing a moan out of both of you once your tight, wet walls squeeze around him. Bracing your feet on the bed as you straddle Ace, you place one hand on his chest and slowly begin bouncing, becoming used to how he feels in this position. He is so deep, touching every single part of you, stretching you out more than he did in doggy.

“O-Oh, my Go-o-od!” you gasp, each word punctuated by your bouncing. You tilt your head up to the ceiling as you roll your hips, grinding your clit against Ace’s pelvis. The pleasure makes you throw your head back and your eyes flutter closed, each delicious burst of pleasure taking you on a ride.

Ace is enjoying his ride as well, watching you bounce that perfect pussy and body on his cock. “That’s it, babydoll,” he groans, gripping your hips. Y

ou ride him like he’s stolen, your gorgeous titties jiggling in his face. His hat perched on top of your pretty head is just as yummy–it’s the cherry on top for him. Watching you makes him want to make you yours; make it so no man, whether in the country or city, can ever have you again.

“How’s it feel?” he asks, staring up at your pretty face. All you let out is a pathetic whimper that gives him the urge to burst inside of you. “I know it feels good, darlin’, but I need your words. Tell me how that dick feels.” He begins to rub your clit with his thumb, causing you to let out a loud whine.

“S-so…so good!” you gasp, alternating between bouncing and rolling your hips, giving him more and more of that pussy every single time. “You feel so good, Ace!”

Suddenly feral, the cowboy leans up and swoops you into his arms, pistoning his hips up into yours from below. “Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he pants in your ear, his voice low and tantalizing. “Tell me you love it.”

You’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear if it means he’ll keep doing this to you. “You’re the best, Ace!” you sob, gripping his shoulders. “You’re the fucking best I’ve ever had! I love the way you fuck me!”

That’s all it takes for the cowboy to keep fucking you stupid as you grind into him from above. The both of you fuck each other like you need it, the bed shaking and your moans echoing throughout the room. You kiss sloppily and messily, your tongues swirling with one another as your pussy squelches and gushes around his cock.

When your second orgasm comes, all you can do is let out a sob, your nails skating down Ace’s back and skull tattoo. He gets his nut just after you, letting out a loud “Oh, fuck!” along with a series of porn-worthy moans as he explodes inside of you. You gasp, feeling a gush of warmth flow into you as you cream all over his cock, your cum sliding down his balls that have completely emptied themselves inside of you.

The high is just as intense and as blissful as the first time, especially since Ace is joining you on this ride this time. You both share an exhausted, messy kiss before he exhaustedly falls back against the pillows, breathing heavily. You roll off him and fall beside him on the bed, his hat still on your head.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, panting heavily from the activity. The only sounds in the room are the birds chirping and the horses neighing outside, giving a very peaceful atmosphere after some good sex. Finally, Ace turns over to look at you. “So how ‘bout that dinner date?” he asks.

You burst into laughter and he follows, the both of you in a fit of giggles that feels just as freeing as the sex. “I could use a steak,” you reply once you calm yourself. “My treat.” Ace makes a face like he’s offended by the very idea. “My treat,” he corrects you. “You deserve it for that ride ya just gave me. You certainly knocked my boots.”

He wraps those big arms around you that you happily snuggle into, wrapping your own around him too. You feel so content and safe despite only knowing the man for two days. Maybe this is a sign. “Mine too,” you sigh. “Oh, and just so you know, I’m familiar with one of the names tatted on your wrists: Luffy. I know him.”

You watch as realization dawns in Ace’s eyes at the mention of his brother. “Oh, yeah?” he asks, excited. “You know my kid brother?” You nod, giggling. “He’s told me about you. Said your the brother that’s a cowboy, but I just forgot.”

He lets out a loud, belly laugh that makes you laugh with him, adoring his childlike personality. “Wow, what a small world!” he chuckles. “I guess in a way, maybe we were meant to meet each other.”

Though you wouldn’t have admitted it first, you think the same thing. If this blooms into something more, it could work. You could take the train to see him and vice versa…if he is interested. It isn’t just the sex you enjoy. You also enjoy talking to Ace. You love how he pushes you to try new things and is so in tune with your feelings. Most men aren’t, so whoever raised him did it well.

You also think about how great of a plot this would be in a book…and just like that, you have the sudden inspiration to write a new series filled with action, mystery, thrills, romance, and a lot of steamy sex with a cowboy who may or may not be inspired by the one you’re currently curled up with.

You look up at Ace, your muse, dreamboat, and possible summer-fling-to-not, with the same adoring, satisfied smile he gazes down at you with. “So steak dinner it is then?” he murmurs into your neck.

You nod, snuggling into his shoulder. “After round two,” you purr. “And a snuggle and shower….in either order.” You beam up at him, a hunger for him rising in the pit of your stomach. You don’t want to waste a minute of this week out in the countryside.

Evidently, neither does Ace judging by his hardening dick against your thigh. He takes your wrist and kisses it before rolling on top of you and grinding himself against your core.

“I can do all of that, little darlin’,” he murmurs. “You can even wear my boots this time.”

THE END.

[trashmouth-richie]

master list

eddie! x fem reader

summary: 3 years later; happy birthday

I can’t believe this is almost the end. It is so bittersweet to be uploading this and thanking you all for the continued support on this story. I hope you will miss eddie + tooty just as much as I will. The epilogue is next and then a fun little surprise for you all.

trigger warnings: fluff, sweet sweet fluff 💕

Crinkly paper streamers twist down into even boughs along the cedar planked walls.  A homemade banner crafted with the best paint Melvald’s could offer, hung over the sliding patio door, freckled with glitter and deep hues of scarlet and onyx. 

  Carefully stenciled uniform letters spelling out a greeting for the birthday boy, line the banner— perfectly positioned.  

  Looking at it now, you can nearly feel the backache it caused from the leaned over pretzel position you were tangled in while attempting to make it look store bought. Instead it took hours and a ruined shirt to paint each letter with precision on your living room floor. 

  Red plastic cups were stacked in a corner on top of a cheap plastic table cloth adorned with paper plates and plastic utensils. A smaller card table from the Wheeler-Byer’s held a two tiered homemade cake, dolloped with sticky whipped strawberry frosting. His favorite.

  Polaroids of the birthday boy were placed, in no particular pattern, with sticky tack to the wall above the card table holding the presents. 

  Various shots from the past year capturing adventures big and small. He had wanted that.

  Wanted to remember every detail— an important step to moving forward, leaving the past in the dust and enjoying the second chance at life you had both been given. 

  The pictures were mostly candids, snapped in the blur of a moment, memories to be cherished for a lifetime to come. And although some of them were cheesy, or horribly cliche; they held delicate moments of the past two years of you and Eddie, together at last.

  You suck the sticky remnants of frosting from your thumb as you carefully arrange a framed picture of his graduation day just so on the table, stepping back and admiring the hard work and weeks worth of planning you had done.  

  Your fingers dance along the sharp edges of the selected photos you had given Jonathan to print for you. 8”x10”, 5”x7”, colored, sepia tone, and even black and white you had wanted to give it more of a collage feel to the project, and Jonathan did a great job. 

  The pictures varied from moments that probably didn’t need to be remembered and ones that should have been taken by a professional, but it was perfect, exactly the way you had envisioned it. 

  A snapshot photo of Eddie’s plump lips wrapped around a brown beer bottle after a night of helping Wayne paint the outside of his trailer, his signature middle finger in the air, the rings glittering with the flash— was propped next to a candle.

  One of Wayne and Eddie hugging on Christmas last year, a small tree tucked into the corner of the yellowing smoke stained walls and part of your finger covering the lens, and another one right after the first of them both looking shocked that you snapped the picture. 

  A picture of you and him, holding fishing poles on the bank of Lover’s Lake. His arm wrapped around your waist, your pole holding a sizable fish, his line snagged on moss and a tattered beat up tennis shoe, a proud smile on his face as he looked down at you, you mid laugh as Wayne teased Eddie behind the lens.

  Another of just him in black and white, asleep on the bed you shared his dark tattoos looked piercing against his bare chested. Long angelic lashes closed against pinked warm cheeks, the silver scar barely visible on his bottom lip. 

  One with Eddie and the boys, sitting in the backyard, the tails of the fire licking into the sun fading sky, his hands wild in the middle of explaining a campaign idea. 

  A candid of Steve, Eddie, Robin and Dustin wearing their tuxes and running into the ocean. Shoes snug into the sand and socks left forgotten. Steve’s white jacket thrown into the air, half of a laughing, Leighanne all dolled up and beautiful on their big day. 

  A photo from the same day, but of only you and him, your lips perched on his cheek as he held you in his lap in the back of a limo. His other cheek sparkling with the residue of a lipgloss kiss, one hand holding your strappy lavender heels, the other wrapped around your waist. His dimpled smile wide and toothy.

  And finally, your favorite one: one of just you and him, dressed in your homemade costumes as Mario and Luigi. A felt mustache falling from under your nose,his white gloved hands holding up rock n’ roll. Right before you two had won the Halloween costume contest at Nancy and Jonathan’s house. 

  Wayne had brought baby pictures that he had dug out of an old box in the forgotten storage shed when you had moved in. Dust lining the frames showing a brown haired baby with doe eyes, drooling over a washcloth while in the sink for a bath. A curly haired toddler with a big smile while on the swings at a park. And many more that were placed around the house. 

  The most special of them all sat on Eddie’s bedside table: a woman with soft honey muddied curls sweeping down to the middle of a white blouse, sunglasses pushed into her hair atop her head, kissing the forehead of a baby swaddled in a blanket.

  “Tooty!” Gareth called from the kitchen, “phone call!” 

  You set the napkins next to Nancy who was meticulously adjusting the m&m dish  into its correct place. Trying to balance out the clashing colors with the black and red theme. 

  “Looks perfect as always, Nance,” you murmur as you squeeze her arm gently when you pass her. 

  She huffs in disapproval, sweeping a permed curl behind her ear, her finger to her lips as she tuts, “it’s missing something.” You squeeze her arm again and trot into the living room. 

  Gareth is holding the blue phone by the long cord twirling it around like a pair of nunchucks, shoving the last bits of a hot dog in his mouth, ketchup wedged into the corner by his lips. “ it’s Hig D,” he announciates horribly, “somthin’ about heddie— shit that’s good— something about them just getting ready to leave work.” 

  laughing at him you can only roll your eyes, “you’ll make a good whore someday deep throatin’ like that,” you tease, taking the phone from his hand. 

  Gareth chuckles and shoves your shoulder, “haven't had any complaints yet, Oh! By the way, I need a three day extension on rent. Cool?” 

  Rolling your eyes again, a smile escapes your lips as you flip him off. 

  Of all of Eddie’s friends, Gareth was the hardest one to crack, but now he was easily your favorite. He reminded you a lot of Eddie in high school. A wild haired mess, always down for a crazy adventure to surely land him into trouble. But a big ol softie when it came down to people he cared about, especially Will. 

  Curling your fingers around the telephone cord, you talk into the receiver, “hey D, what’s up?” 

  —-

  Argyle and Jonathan arrive through the front door, smelling like purple palm tree delight and balancing pizza boxes in their arms. 

  Robin spins at least a dozen times trying to find a place for the tower of cheesed pie and nearly knocks into Jonathan in her pursuit of frenzy. The boys slide them into place onto a card table against the kitchen wall, a photo of you and Eddie holding the keys to Hop’s cabin with wide grins on your faces hanging above it. 

  The brisk May breeze flows through the house, flickering the candles and making the helium balloons bump into one another in a lazy staticky dance. 

  A blur of red stalks into the house holding two bottles of liquor in each hand, a baseball hat backwards on her head, “hope Eddie likes whiskey because that’s all Walt would sell me,” she says heaving the bottles onto the counter in a clunkered manner, wiping the sweat from her freckled forehead, sporting a fresh new bob cut all thanks to you, “stubborn ass, he charged me nearly double,” she huffs, folding the paper sacks haphazardly, “son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t even let me use my employee rate!” 

  “Thanks for getting it Maxi-pad,” you say over your shoulder stifling a giggle from the old nickname you hadn’t called her since middle school, “Eddie’ll drink beer from a boot as long as he got a buzz from it—let me know what I owe you.” 

  She spins on squeaky sneakers and grabs a slice of pizza from one of the leaning boxes, squishing the greasy cheese between her teeth, talking with a mouthful “quit— we’re square for all the times you’ve come over since moving back.” 

  A sad expression falters behind the mask on her porcelain complexion. But she’s quick to shove it all away. It had been months since she’d been back in Hawkins, and your friend since elementary school was just starting to get her life back into order.

  “Eddie’s offer still stands by the way,” you gently whisper, turning away from placing candles into the pink frosting to give her a quick squeeze, the fringes of your friendship mending together after years of not really speaking. 

  Holding Max at arms length you raise your eyebrows at her, “I’m serious,” a clip in your voice that even Nancy would envy. 

  She shrugs quickly and looks back with wet blue eyes, not willing to let her guard down on the eve of a party, “I’ll think about it,” her jaw set tight. 

 “Let's have fun tonight, okay?” she begs, “it isn’t every day Eddie’s old decrepit ass turns forty.” 

  The giggle she was hoping for to ease the tension tickled your throat, “he’s twenty nine, Maxine,” you tease back. 

  “Oh-ho-ho,” she chuckles, crossing the linoleum to the fridge in a swift motion, throwing open the door and leaning into the illuminated box, fingers dancing along the brown neck of a Bud Light, a smug smile on her salmon lips, “government names huh, T? I’ll remember that.” 

  —

  Will and Mike were in charge of moving vehicles behind the north tree line away from the driveway and out of sight. Each car owner silently held their breath and the litter of anxiety rising higher as Mike got behind the wheel of each car. 13 tickets by Hopper’s deputies hadn’t slowed him down yet. 

  Leighanne, and El had just finished hanging the decorative white lights on the back deck and around the trees. The backyard looked like a little cozy oasis. And it warmed your soul to see it all come together. 

  It was rough when you had first moved in here. Hopper had a buddy who owned the cabin you now call home. It was far from town but hadn’t been renovated in years. Nothing a little elbow grease and nights after work wouldn’t fix, it took six months with help from just about everyone you knew, but the place was perfect. 

  And after everything that happened in Hawkins, Eddie’s promise stuck. 

  He got you both out. Started a new life away from the wandering eyes and whispered lies. Even after he was cleared, people still wouldn’t let it go. 

  But, the cabin was everything you could imagine and more. Perched into a thick grove of trees. Secluded. Secretive. Exactly what you both needed. 

  It was  heaven. 

  Lounging on blankets in the soft grass, bare toes curled into the soft comforter, the girls sat back and laughed as Steve nearly tipped over the entire pan of grilled burgers and hot dogs.  

  “Yeah laugh it up you two!” Steve scolded playfully, tugging and shoving a hand into the thick tuft of hair on his head, “you won’t be laughing when there’s nothing to eat!” 

  “Such sass from The Grill Master,” Leighanne giggled, covering her mouth with a delicate hand, a large diamond on her ring finger.

  Before Steve could whip up something cheeky, Arygle’s smooth baritone voice broke amongst the laughs, “Damn my dude,” he chuckled, leading Eden’s small frame through the patio door, “smells good out here.” 

  Steve huffs again, “Thanks, I’m just doing what I’m told, don’t mind the peanut gallery back there,” he gestures with his spatula to the two giggling gals on the blanket. 

  The keg was perched on the small back deck, ice melting slowly around the tin base. Steve had been grilling burgers for the last half hour, smears of grease rubbed on the bottom of his red apron embossed with fancy lettering, kiss the cook.

  “And you’re doing it man,” Argyle salutes him as a fellow culinary soldier, “it’s art what you’re doing dude, pure fuckin art—like Picasso if he was a chef… piSteveo.”

  “Okay man—yeah, I get it,” Steve says all in one breath, rolling his eyes and cracking a grin back at his bride who was biting her own cheek and trying not to laugh. “Dustin and Susie ride with you?” 

  “Yeah,” Eden scowls, crossing her legs and dragging Argyle down to sit on the picnic bench, her black pixie cut fluttering in the light breeze resembling a real life goth tinkerbell, “that four eyed little shit kept going on and on about the ecosystem and methane gas or whatever, so yeah they’re here— probably terrorizing everyone else about the election or some shit.” 

  Steve snorts and flips another burger onto the grates, the sizzle of charred seasoned beef signaling the first signs of summer, “sounds about right.” 

  “Alright guys,” you say stepping through the sliding patio door, the sun close to setting in the west taking the warmth with it, “D said they’re just leaving so everyone get in position.” 

  -

  “..I’m just sayin’ is all,” D barks, finishing wiping the grease from a gas station bean burrito on the back of his hand from his pudgy lips, “I’ll give you top dollar for it.” 

  Eddie took another sip from his Mt. Dew, barreling down the highway and thumping his thumb along the steering wheel, contemplating heavily on what Big D had been asking of him. 

  “fuck I dunno man… it’s like a part of me y’know?” 

  Eddie rubs the beginning of his scruffy chin, unable to grow a full beard even though he’s nearly in his thirties, Peter Pan syndrome hitting him square in the jaw. 

  “had it since I was fifteen, fixed it all up with my uncle,” he mumbles lighting a cigarette between his teeth, “it’s a staple to the Munson name.” 

  D rolls his eyes and tosses the foil wrapper to the floorboards of Eddie’s truck. “that was like twenty years ago man, you don’t even drive it anymore.”

  Eddie chuckles through a cloud a smoke, turning the steering wheel to the right down the hidden driveway, overgrown grass on both ends of a rotted through fence post, “easy there asshole— ‘sides, thought you were buying Jeff’s mom’s car?” 

  D slides belches loud and throws his chubby hand out the window, fresh air wiggling his fingers slowly, “I did, just gotta fix it up, but the van would be my daily driving chick magnet.” He wiggles his eyebrows like two black caterpillars dancing a tango. 

  Eddie smiles to himself, memories of past times booze cruising to Rick’s and hauling band equipment to the Hideout. Times long gone and fading like the moon into dawn. 

  A time when he was ruthless, chaotic and hungry for the world’s shittiness just so he could add his own fucked up version to it. A big fuck you to anyone who ever doubted him. 

  A time before you were officially his. 

  Nowadays the bear inside of him was tame, licking its paws in laziness, hibernating with the sounds of a calm beating heart. Fed and cared for, content. 

  “We’ll see,” he replies, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth, “you still owe me $40 for that service you gifted to that waitress last week, fucker.” 

  “Pffft,” D says lighting a cigarette, “take it out of my check boss man.” 

  Eddie cranked his lips into a smirk, it still didn’t feel real.

-

  The roar of Eddie’s diesel truck echoes along the tree line, vibrating against the fallen branches from the late winter storm that snapped full grown Red Oaks like matchsticks when the ice built heavy onto its branches. 

  The cabin lights were dim, curtains pulled tight to barely show the glimpse of any crack of light. It wasn’t unusual, your lives were kept pretty private after everything that happened, doors always locked. 

  “The hell?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling the stick into neutral with the palm of his hand and killing the engine, the old dodge sputtering out to quiet, “thought you said Gareth was comin’ over to practice tonight?” 

  D fumbled for words, reaching for the metal door handle “no, yeah he’s here— maybe Will dropped ‘im off.”

  Eddie quirked an eyebrow, the exhaustion from work taking over his features as he let out a loud yawn and arched his back against the velour seats, he climbed out of the pickup, lunchbox in tow. 

  “alright man, ‘m just gonna shower quick,” he hooks a thumb behind his shoulder, walking up the stone path to the front door, “think Tooty still has the hose hooked up if you wanted to rinse off.” 

  D stomps around the truck, leaning a thick arm onto the hood, “don’t make any special accommodations for me dude, I’m cool.” 

  “Yeah yeah you’re pretty cool alright,” Eddie said climbing the two steps with heavy footsteps, and putting a brass key into the knob, twisting it in his grasp, “why’d you think I had the window dow—”

  Eddie is almost knocked back into the wall by the room full of his friends shouting surprise! as he entered the cabin. 

  Shock and a racing heartbeat wash away to a dimpled smile and squinted eyes. It was worth the weeks of planning and aligning everyone’s schedules to make it all work out. And in the end, the crowd turned into a blur when you peaked your head behind the kitchen wall grinning wide at the handsome man at the door. 

  His girl. His one and only. Spoiling him with a surprise party. Mouthing “happy birthday baby,” from across the room with a warm smile that still was able to tinge his cheeks in the prettiest shade of bashful. 

  Backs were slapped and shoulders clapped as Eddie made his way around to the guests. His smile was wide and toothy, lighting up the room with his deep laugh and dimples. 

  He hugged friends like he hadn’t seen them in years, pressed cheek to cheek and apologizing later for grease smudges left on their shirts. 

  “Shit,” Wayne breathed, as he stepped into the doorway, finding you immediately and looking sympathetic, “sorry we’re late, the missus was wrappin’ a last minute gift.” 

  Nancy and Mike’s mom stood tucked beneath Wayne’s arm. Four gifts wrapped tight and pristine, held in her arms. The alimony from Ted was still treating her more than well. 

  “Wayne,” Karen giggles like a schoolgirl, a long manicured hand to his denim jacket, dismissing him with a wink, “here Tooty,” she gleams, walking towards you with her arms outstretched, embracing you in a hug, “it’s just a little something for the two of you, saw it at the mall and couldn’t resist!” 

  It was an adjustment for the youngest Wheeler when Karen left Ted. Nancy and Mike didn’t seem to care, having already been moved out of the house and living their own lives. But Holly took it hard, refusing to see her mother at all. 

  “It’s perfect thank you Karen,” Eddie said, sneaking around you, his fingers dragging along your lower back  and down your hip, sending shivers to your core. A quick wink to you as he grabs the gifts from her and Wayne. 

  He was happy for them, he had never seen Wayne with someone who treated him so well before  in his life, he gave his shoulder a squeeze, “next time put your glasses on so you can see while driving, might get here on time, old man.”

  Wayne rolled his eyes and put Eddie in a headlock, “I ain’t here to see you anyhow, came to see my favorite daughter in law to be if you’d just marry her already, didn’t even know it was your birthday you little punk.” 

  “Yeah yeah,” Eddie scoffed, “that’s why it says ‘Ed’s birthday’ on the calendar in your office, right? Because you didn’t know?” 

  Wayne releases Eddie and gives him a side hug, “been celebratin’ this day for twenty-three years with y’ boy, I ain’t never forgettin’” 

  Karen was always like a mother to you. The Wheeler’s held such a special place in your heart, and you’d always be grateful for the kindness both her and Ted had shown you when you were growing up. Seeing her now with Wayne surprisingly wasn’t that odd. They balanced each other well. 

  Wayne pulls you into the other side of him, keeping you and Eddie under each arm, “looks real good in here darlin’” He says, looking down at you with icy blue eyes, “sure am glad  y’ learned how to tame this wild li’l shit.” 

  you smile up at the Munson’s and Eddie sticks out his tongue at you. 

  “Now,” he says addressing only Eddie, “I swear on my mama and daddy’s graves, Ed, you better marry this girl someday or ‘m gonna hang y’ from your toes by that clothesline out back.” 

  Eddie rolls his eyes, but before he can speak, Nancy  waves at her mother and stands atop a metal chair.

  “Alright everyone, let’s go out back and we can start eating.”

  Once the room emptied it was just you and Eddie. The tension was always thick in every room you were in with him, electric in ways that buzzed between your legs and made your head feel fuzzy. 

  You waited your turn patiently. 

  Eddie coins a coy grin behind his plump lips, walking with his hands behind his back and moving his shoulder low, cocking his head. 

  Your hands, busy themselves with arranging presents, fingers slipping between the silky ribbons and plucking the ends to watch them curl.  Warm arms surround your waist and you act surprised and let out a squeal. 

  He sets you down and pushes the collar of your shirt to the side, pressing his lips like angel’s wings to the skin on your shoulder, relishing in the way the goosebumps crawled across your flesh. 

  “Eddie,” you hum, working your fingers behind you to pull on the tendrils of sweaty hair tucked behind his neck. 

  “Hmm?” He breathes hot across your neck, working his way up to the dainty gold necklace, the same one brandishing the ring he gave you for Christmas in 1992, nothing compared to the one he was eyeballing at the jewelry store in the mall. 

  Rubbing the underside of your chin with the bulb of his nose, you shudder and feel his grin on your skin, “all of this for me?” 

  You nod and whine when a large hand dances across the waist of your jeans. And almost let out a moan when he nips at your earlobe. 

  Eddie’s work days were long but the nights spent between the sheets were longer, both of you never getting enough of each other. The passion and static was always there. 

  “Wanted to surprise my birthday boy,” you breathed as your head fell back into his shoulder, and he bucked his hips into you, pushing you into the rickety table and shaking the presents. 

  “You’re too good to me,” Eddie whispered into your ear, his fingers digging into your hips. “How am I ever going to thank my pretty gir—?”

  “Hey you guys comin’ or what?” Steve asks, hands on his hips and a scorch mark on his apron, “Nancy’s making a fucking seating chart out there, and I really hope you have liability insurance because Argyle is trying to teach Dustin yoga.”

  Eddie takes his lips from your neck and turns to face Steve, “I mean, we coulda been if you hadn’t barged in.” 

  “Eddie!” you laugh, slapping his chest lightly, and straightening your shirt, “we’ll be right out Steve, just going to give Eddie his birthday present.” 

  His eyes sparkle in mischievous wonder, “oooh you think we have time?” He says unbuttoning his work blues, “I like the way you think dirty sweetheart.” 

  You roll your eyes and tug him down the hallway to your bedroom. 

  “Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters under his breath, shaking his head and making his way through the patio door, “nah don’t worry I’ll entertain the guests,” he says in annoyance, “maybe we can play parcheesi or hotdog Jenga.” 

  —

  “Don’t peek!” 

  “Oh c’mon!” 

  “Eddie.” 

  “Ugh fine, but you better be naked or I’ll pout.” 

  “Such a brat...”

  “Don’t act surprised babe.” 

  “Alright open, but I am very much still dressed, that part of your present is later tonight.” 

  Eddie had showered and was getting dressed shoving his feet into a worn pair of converse when you waltzed into the room, a small oblong box behind your back. 

  Dropping the carefully wrapped present into his awaiting hands, he holds the box like a carton of eggs. One eye peeked open, “well,” Eddie says rubbing the corners of the box with the calloused pads on his thumbs, “this doesn’t feel like a puppy.” 

  “You poor boy,” you tease with a shove to his shoulder, and a kiss to his cheek, “how will you ever live?” 

  Eddie tears the paper with a hook of his finger where the tape joins the pieces, wet tendrils of hair dripping water marks onto the wrapping, “it’ll be hard but I think I’ll manage.” 

  Biting your lip in anticipation you watch as Eddie tears the paper in boyish glee. And you aren’t sure who’s smile is wider when he finally opens the small rectangle shaped box. 

  It took awhile to save up for it. Cutting countless heads of hair in the renovated room above Master Mechanic’s, the auto shop Eddie co-owned with Wayne in Bridgeport, and earning a small wage by cleaning houses for a few hours on the weekends. 

  But every scrubbed toilet, every rolled perm rod was worth it when Eddie opened his present. 

  “It's about time you saw them live, yeah?” 

  Tickets to Metallica, the same gift. But this time with the promise of actually going and witnessing their magic. 

  “Oh baby,” Eddie nearly cried, running his fingers over the inked words carefully, he set the tickets down on the comforter and wrapped his hands around your waist pulling you into him, “why are you so good to me?” 

  And just like the first time he asked you, years ago, before you were his and he was yours. When you were just roommates exchanging gifts on Christmas. You told him what you should have then. 

  but you don’t fight to find the words anymore, or wonder if it’ll sound dumb. Everything you've been through with Eddie you could never imagine living life with anyone other than him. 

  The words come easy, and it’s one of the truest things you’ve ever said. 

  “Because you’re a good man. Because you’re the reason I wake up smiling every morning. Because I have never loved anyone the way that I love you, and I’ll always, always regret not telling you sooner.” 

  Eddie smiles with a quivering lip and you lean down to wipe the tears from his eyes, his arms wrap around you tight like a vice grip.

  Looking into his eyes, he somehow looked better with every year passing, truly aging like fine wine, and you were drunk on him.

   “Don’t cry on your birthday baby, it’s supposed to be a party,” you smile warmly at him, bringing his chin up a bit

so you can press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

  Pulling you into him so you’re straddling his hips, he whispers an I love you into your ear with your real name attached at the end, all satiny on his breath like a Hershey kiss.

  You don’t hear your God given name very often, having hated it for as long as you remember. Stubbornly telling everyone at a young age that your name was Tooty. Even writing it on all of your school papers as early as kindergarten. 

  But when Eddie said it, it set your soul on fire. Like a secret kept finally being told. Like another wall breaking down with him holding the sledge hammer. Like the first bite of a warm brownie from the oven. It felt good. 

  He presses slow kisses into your neck and moves his large hands to rock your hips against him, “you’re never gonna get rid of me, you know that right?” 

  “Fuck I hope not,” you whisper as you nip at his bare  shoulder,  “I made your favorite cake for tonight and everything.” 

  “Mmm,” Eddie purrs against the column of your throat, “strawberry?” 

  Gathering skin between your teeth you suck a small bruise into his pale neck, tongue swirling soft then firm, his pretty noises filling the bedroom walls. 

  “Yep,” you breathe with swollen lips, and popping the ‘p’, “extra frosting.”

  “Lady evil at it again,” Eddie teases, capturing your lips into a hungry kiss, his hands scoring down your back and bringing your hips impossibly closer to where you were both aching. 

  You giggle as he breaks away, and tickles your sides. He flips you onto the bed. The bulb of his nose wedging between your neck and shoulder as his hips hold you in place, his fingers dig into your armpits, and your ribs. 

  You laugh until your face is red and your neck is slick and painted with a stain of raspberry teeth marks and the lap of his tongue licking the bites better. 

  He gives you a wicked grin, out of breath and his lips swollen, his demeanor changes into something serious. 

He holds his hand on your cheek, sweeping your skin delicately with the pad of his thumb, holding you so gently as if you were made of porcelain, “I’m gonna make you my wife.” 

  Your fingernails scratch lightly down his chest, skipping over the tattoo of little angel wings and a halo for the unborn child you didn’t get the luxury of holding, matching the one on your inner arm. The date etched below in Eddie’s own handwriting. 

  It wasn’t the only new tattoo he had gotten since that day.

  He also had a mockup of a cartoon lady, devil horns on her head and a long black demon tail wagging behind her, that sat on his bicep. A pout identical to yours on her pretty little face, arms crossed in a fit.  ‘my girl’ in old English font beneath her little stiletto heels. 

  Your fingertips trace the lines of blank ink on his chest. And you lift your eyes to his. 

  Opening your soul to him for the millionth time, spreading its wings and joining with his into that dream land he swore he’d take you to, dancing on the rings of Saturn, bathing in the springs of Jupiter. 

  He smiles softly and so do you, heart soaring and beating fast, “about damn time,” you whisper softly just before his lips close around yours.

  Although your life would never be the same after that awful day, the one you were crafting and coloring outside the straight black lines with Eddie by your side, was pretty damn great. 

  And you wouldn’t change a thing.

🤧

🏷️

@bebe07011 @dashingdeb16 @hiscrimsonangel @luxaeterna13 @enam3l

[bybobbysbeard]

Pastel

Day 15 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: babysitting read on ao3 read other days here

Childish laughter drifts in through the open kitchen window. Tommy rinses the last plate and stacks it in the dishwasher, Evan’s lecture about proper spacing echoing through his mind. Another riotous giggle has him looking out through the glass, trying to spot his boyfriend and their tiny guest. Evan’s boisterous voice echoes next, and alright, the kitchen is clean enough.

He steps outside through the patio door, sliding the screen closed with a clatter. There’s no one on the deck, but he can see Evan’s broad back, hunched over the brickwork patio stones. The patio furniture has been moved closer to the barbecue, leaving a wide open area. 

His boyfriend is sitting cross-legged, khaki shorts smudged here and there with pastel colors.  He’s leaning forward, arm outstretched as he draws a large circle. A thick piece of yellow chalk is clutched in his hand, leaving behind a wide streak of color on the gray stone. The green T-shirt keeping the sun off his shoulders has ridden up, showing a sliver of tanned skin at the small of his back. 

Kneeling beside Evan is a little boy, tow-haired and freckled, smiling wide. He’s got sticks of chalk in both hands, blue and green dusted all the way up to his elbows. He looks up at Tommy and shrieks. “Uncle Tommy!”

Evan’s head perks up. “Good timing babe, you’re much better at drawing helicopters.”

He grins hugely, blue eyes sparkling in the sun. There’s a smear of pink on his clean-shaven cheek. 

Their smiles are the exact same. 

Tommy kind of feels like he’s been hit by a truck. 

He’s heard the whole story of Cohen’s conception, and Evan’s history with Conner and Kameron. He knows about the birth, the same day as the bridge collapse, Jesus, what is Evan’s life, and he’s met the family of three several times. Just last month, they went out to dinner, and Conner told some wild stories about Evan in Peru over margaritas and Mexican food. 

But this is the first time he’s seen Evan and Cohen together without his parents as a buffer. 

Thank God the toddler has Kameron’s colouration or Tommy really would fall into the fantasy that’s swirling through his brain. Cohen’s fairer, but it’s obvious in the shape of his face, his round cheeks and cherubic smile. He’s got his mothers brown eyes, but the sandy lashes framing them catch the light the same way as Evan’s.

Throughout most of his life, Tommy couldn’t picture himself having kids. It’s not that he doesn't want them; he does. He just couldn’t imagine ever having the kind of relationship he would want to bring children into. Anytime he daydreamed about it, all he saw was his own neglected childhood. But along came Evan. And with him, the 118. At every family event there’s a couple of kids tearing around, and his boyfriend is phenomenal with them. Anyone can see how gentle, how doting, how loving Evan is with children. He’ll make an incredible dad.

He makes Tommy want all sorts of crazy things. 

Evan seems oblivious to the thoughts that are sending his heart racing. His attention has returned to the stonework, as he adds wavy rays stretching out from the sun he sketched. Cohen giggles again, showing off his handfuls of chalk. Tommy smiles at him. “I see them bud. Good job! Look at the beautiful drawings. We should take a picture for your mom and dad.”

“Oh, that’s such a good idea. Stay right here with Uncle Tommy, Cohen, I’m going to get my phone.” Evan jumps to his feet, dropping the yellow chalk back in the bucket and dusting his hands off. He’s already taken two big steps towards the house when Tommy snags his elbow.

“Hold up honey, let me grab it. And maybe a washcloth. You’ve got a little chalk–” he gestures lower, “–on your feet.”

Evan grips onto his shoulder, lifting a bare foot into the air and letting out a surprised bark of laughter. The sole of his foot is absolutely covered, an impressionist rainbow of pastel from toe to heel. He shuffles, swaying into Tommy, who wraps an arm around his boyfriend’s back to keep him steady. Evan checks the other foot; it’s a similar blend of every chalk in the bucket. 

Cohen, still seated on the patio and holding his chalk, gasps. “Uncle Evan! Your feet are so pretty!”

Evan’s still laughing, slouched against Tommy. “Thanks Cohen. What do you think Tommy, are my feet pretty?” He bats his eyelashes. Ridiculous man.

Tommy lets him lean, taking the weight happily. He doesn’t look down, continuing to stare straight into Evan’s blue eyes. His fingers stroke gently over the warm muscle of Evan’s waist. Tommy lets his own smile widen, love spilling out of him in an uncontrollable rush. He’s never felt this way, never thought he could have a real family, never had someone love him like this. 

It’s Evan, it’s all Evan. 

“Beautiful.”

[adoreispunk]

Out of Reach (joel miller au)

"…Dad agreed, then clapped Joel on the back. "You should get home, man. Don't wanna keep you here all night."

Joel's eyes flicked to mine for half a second, before he nodded again.

I stepped forward before he could move. My voice didn't shake, even if my stomach did. "Actually," I said, "can you stay a minute?" “

wc: 2.6k

an: at the end of the chapter;)

masterlist (21)

twenty one

The backyard had finally gone quiet.

The music had faded into silence, and the last few guests trickled out through the side gate, their laughter fading into the dark like the smoke rising from the fire pit. The string lights above us still glowed soft, casting long shadows over the lawn, now littered. My dad's oldest friends were still posted up near the fire, voices low, holding on to the last drops in their cups like they could stretch the night out a little longer.

Sarah had said goodbye about twenty minutes ago. She hugged me tightly before leaving, leaned in with a mischievous smile, and whispered, "Good luck." Like she saw right through me. I'd barely managed a shaky "thanks" before she was gone with Tommy, waving as they disappeared into the driveway. Joel had agreed to uber home.

Joel was folding up chairs and stacking them against the fence, sleeves rolled up, forearms tense and dusted with grass. He looked tired but steady, like he always did when he was trying to stay in motion. Keep his hands busy so his mind didn't wander.

I stayed in the kitchen for a while, pretending the leftovers needed urgent attention. Sliding foil over trays of ribs, scooping potato salad into plastic containers, and gathering trash. My hands worked on autopilot. My brain, meanwhile, ran circles.

There was no more putting it off.

I glanced out the window and saw the last of my dad's friends clapping each other on the back, saying their goodbyes. One by one, they filtered out, leaving behind only the quiet flicker of the fire and the sound of Joel's boots on the patio.

Shit. Now it was just Joel, my dad, and me.

I took a deep breath and carried the last stack of empty beer bottles outside to the bin. The screen door creaked, and I stepped out into the stillness.

"Hey, sweetheart," my dad called, voice loose and warm. He was leaning against the picnic table, cheeks still a little flushed. Not as drunk as earlier, but buzzed enough to smile like everything in the world was good. "You killin' it in there?"

I smiled faintly. "Trying to. We had a lot of food."

"We always do," he said with a chuckle. "You remember last year? We had, like, four trays of wings left. I ate them for breakfast for a week."

I laughed under my breath. "Yeah, and you got sick."

"Worth it," he grinned, and nudged me lightly with his elbow. "You okay, though? You seemed kinda quiet the last hour or so."

I hesitated, heart skipping. "Yeah. Just tired, I think."

He studied me for a second, eyes squinting a little. "Well... I had a real good time tonight. Really. Best birthday I've had in a long time."

"I'm glad." I reached over, touched his arm. "You deserved it."

He got soft at that, a little emotional the way he always did after a few drinks. "You're a good kid, Liv. I don't say it enough."

I felt the lump rise in my throat. My voice came out a little quieter than I meant. "Thanks, Dad."

Then he looked over toward the chairs and raised his voice. "Joel, buddy—you don't gotta keep folding all those. I can finish up in the morning, promise."

Joel paused, setting down the chair in his hands. "Just trying to help."

"You already did more than enough," Dad said, pushing off the table and crossing the yard to him. "Thank you, though. Seriously."

Joel gave a small nod, wiping his hands on his jeans. "You're welcome. It was a good night."

"It was," Dad agreed, then clapped Joel on the back. "You should get home, man. Don't wanna keep you here all night."

Joel's eyes flicked to mine for half a second brief, before he nodded again.

I stepped forward before he could move. My voice didn't shake, even if my stomach did. "Actually," I said, "can you stay a minute?"

Both of them looked at me.

My dad blinked, then grinned. "Uh-oh. I'm not in trouble, am I?"

I smiled tightly. "No. Just... need to tell you something."

Joel stood still, hands at his sides. Waiting.

My heart thudded hard.

This was it.

I swallowed hard, eyes flicking from Joel to my dad. My mouth opened, but the words felt thick in my throat.

"I just..." I started, my voice careful. "I wanted to say that Joel's been a really big help to me these past couple weeks. With the internship stuff. And just... figuring things out."

My dad raised his eyebrows, smiling as he leaned back slightly, clearly not expecting that direction. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "He's really helped shift the way I've been thinking about everything. The job, my future, even my photography. He's let me be creative with it, like actually trust my ideas, and I just—I don't know, I'm excited about it again. In a way I haven't been for a while."

Joel shifted behind me, still quiet.

My dad grinned wide, squinting at Joel like something had just clicked. "Oh shit. Are you givin' her a permanent position or somethin'? That what this is?"

Joel opened his mouth, probably to clarify, but I cut in fast.

"No," I said sharply, too fast. "Dad, I'm trying to—"

I winced, cursed under my breath. "Shit."

My dad's brows drew together, the smile fading as he glanced between us. "Alright, then what the hell is goin' on?"

I looked at Joel. He didn't move. He just stood there. Then I turned back to my dad, heart slamming so hard I could barely hear my own voice.

"Joel and I have been seeing each other."

Silence.

For a second, I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. But then the shift happened—slow but sharp.

His face dropped. The confusion twisted into disbelief. Then into something colder.

"Seeing each other?" he echoed, like he didn't understand the words.

"Yeah," I said, barely above a whisper. "As in... we've been... involved."

His mouth opened, then closed. His eyes cut to Joel, narrowing.

"You're joking," he said, but it didn't sound like he thought it was funny.

"I'm not," I replied.

His gaze cut hard to Joel, and everything in his face changed. Something behind his eyes snapped. His posture went stiff. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"With him?" he spat. "You're tellin' me my daughter—" His voice cracked. "You've been messin' around with him?"

Joel shifted a step forward, cautious. "Theo—"

"Don't," my dad barked. "Don't you fucking say a word to me."

Joel stopped. I felt his energy shift. My dad stepped closer to me, face flushed deep red. "How long?" he demanded. "How long has this been goin' on?"

I didn't answer fast enough.

"How long, Olivia?!"

"Since the internship," I said quickly. "Not from the beginning but—"

He didn't wait to hear the rest. He turned and stormed straight toward Joel.

"You motherfucker," he growled, grabbing a fistful of Joel's shirt and shoving him hard in the chest. Joel stumbled back a step but didn't raise his hands, didn't defend himself.

"You son of a bitch. You've been in my house. You sat at my table. And this whole time you've been fucking around with my daughter?"

Joel didn't say anything. His jaw clenched, eyes steady, like he was ready to take the hit if it came.

My heart slammed into my ribs. "Dad, stop—!"

"I oughta kill you right here," he seethed, getting in Joel's face. "You think I don't see what this is? You think I don't know what the fuck you're doing?"

"Stop it!" I yelled. "It wasn't like that! He didn't do anything to me!"

He turned toward me then, voice breaking. "You're twenty-two, Olivia. What the hell do you think this is? Love? This ain't love. This is bullshit."

Joel finally spoke, low and gravelly. "It wasn't supposed to happen. I tried—"

"I don't give a shit what you tried," my dad roared, shoving him again. "You did. And now you show your face here? Like you got a right to stand on this lawn tonight?"

Joel didn't fight back. "I'm sorry."

"Get the fuck outta here," my dad snarled. "Before I put you in the goddamn ground."

Joel looked at me one last time for comfort. Then he turned, jaw tight, and walked toward the front of the house without another word.

I watched him disappear around the corner. My chest felt like it might cave in.

When I turned back, my dad was staring at the ground like he didn't even know where he was anymore.

"I can't believe you'd do this," he muttered. "You had every man in the world, Liv. And you chose him?"

"I didn't choose it," I said, voice shaking. "It just happened."

He shook his head, like he couldn't hear me. "You don't know what the hell you're doing."

"I do," I said, fighting the tears now. "You just don't want to see it."

His eyes lifted to mine, pained and furious. "I don't wanna look at you right now."

He turned and walked back inside, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

The sound echoed through me. Something cracked in my chest. I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt the tears on my neck, hot and sudden. I brought a hand to my face, gasping out a breath that caught halfway up my throat. Everything inside me was unraveling too fast to hold together.

I stood there a second longer, trembling, unsure if I should run after him. Try to make him understand. Beg him to listen. But the urge to have Joel in this moment was stronger. My legs moved before I had a plan, cutting across the grass, through the gate, and down the driveway in a blur.

"Joel?" I called, voice breaking.

He was still there.

Standing just at the curb, head tilted down, thumbing through his phone. His broad shoulders slumped forward in a way I wasn't used to seeing like he was carrying every ounce of the tension too.

"Joel," I said again, softer this time.

His head lifted. When he saw me, his expression shifted. I broke into a run and flung my arms around him. My fingers curled tight into the fabric of his shirt. He caught me, instantly, one arm around my back, the other cradling the back of my head. He didn't say anything. Just held me like he could feel me falling apart in real time.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "I'm sorry—I didn't think—I thought maybe if I explained—he wasn't supposed to react like that—"

"Shh," Joel murmured, voice low against my temple. "It's okay. It's alright."

"I didn't want you to leave like that," I choked out. "I didn't want it to happen like this."

"I know," he said. He didn't let go. His hand smoothed gently down my spine, trying to settle me.

"I don't care what he thinks," I whispered into his chest. "I don't. I don't want you to go."

Joel was quiet for a moment. His hand slowed. I could feel the weight of his thoughts in the silence. "I get it," he finally said. "He's your dad. And he's... well, he's who he is. I didn't expect rainbows and sunshine, Liv."

I pulled back just enough to look at him, searching his face. "I know how he is," I said. "But I thought—I hoped maybe if I was the one to tell him, it would be different. I don't know what I was thinking. I just didn't want to hide anymore."

"You did the right thing," he said gently. "You told the truth."

I swallowed, chest still heaving, scared of the next words out of his mouth.

"But—" I started. "If this is too much for you—"

Joel's hand came up to cup the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I promised, remember?"

I blinked through the tears, my breath catching. "But my dad—"

"We'll figure it out," he said. "Give him time. It's not just us he's processing right now. The drinking didn't help. He was already riding high from the night, and then that?"

He shook his head, jaw tight for a second before softening again.

"I'm not mad. And I'm not giving up. I want you, Olivia. That hasn't changed."

A sound escaped me—half laugh, half sob. I threw my arms around him again, tighter this time.

"I want you too," I whispered. "So much."

His arms came around me again, stronger now, like he was anchoring us both. Like he meant it.

I pulled back again, just far enough to see his face in the low glow of the streetlight. He looked wrecked in the way I felt—like all his muscles had been holding tension for hours and had only now started to let go. His eyes found mine, and for a second, neither of us said anything. Just breathing. Just being there.

Then I reached for his face. My hand slid to his jaw, thumb brushing over the stubble there. He looked at me like he already knew.

"I love you."

The words were quiet, but they rang out loud in the silence between us. I watched as his eyes widened, something sharp and startled flashing across his expression like I'd taken the air right out of his lungs.

But before he could speak, before he could even blink the weight of it away.

The headlights swept across us.

A car turned the corner and rolled slowly into the cul de sac.

The Uber.

Joel's mouth opened, then shut. His eyes flicked to the car, jaw tightening. For a beat, he looked like he might say something anyway. Like maybe he'd grab my face and pull me in and say it back, kiss me stupid in the middle of the street because he couldn't help himself.

He exhaled hard through his nose, gaze dropping briefly before finding mine again.

"Come with me," he said. "Just for tonight."

"Joel—"

"Sarah's already asleep," he added. "We'll explain something to her in the morning if I need to. She'll understand. But you shouldn't go back in there tonight."

I hesitated, glancing back toward the house, "I don't have anything with me," I said quietly. "Just my phone."

He reached for my hand. "It's okay. I'll get you what you need. Just... be with me."

I nodded slowly. I couldn't bear the thought of lying in my bed while my dad's words echoed in the walls. I couldn't stomach the silence or the shame or the way everything good had just shattered.

So I squeezed Joel's hand back.

"Okay," I whispered.

He opened the back door for me, hand guiding the small of my back as I slipped into the seat. He followed a second later, and the car pulled off.

I glanced out the window as the house faded behind us, my heart still splintered but tethered to the one thing I knew I didn't regret. And just before we turned the corner, I saw him.

My dad.

He was standing in the front window, the porch light casting him in shadow. His arms were crossed over his chest, his shoulders tense. He wasn't moving, just watching.

He didn't wave. But he saw me. And I saw him.

I turned back around, breath catching in my throat. My phone felt heavy in my lap, screen still dark.

I would text him tonight. Even if he didn't want to hear it. Even if he wouldn't respond.

He deserved to know I hadn't meant to break him.

And I needed him to know that I meant every word.

- - - - - - -

an: y’all I honestly didn’t know if I wanted them to say I love you but i’m just a lover girl and I like a little bit of fluff☺️☺️☺️ soft joel >>>>>

[lunarw0rks]

please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks soap would be horny at the WRONG times?

like let’s say you’re hosting your very first end of the year bbq and you invite your close friends, the task force, + los vaqueros. you’re excited because you just had moved into your first house as well.

all is good until good until soap starts getting needy, purposely brushing up against your backside whenever he passes by, mumbling the most sarcastic ‘oops my bad’. he even says something along the lines of ‘sending everyone back home so we could have some alone time’ and plays it off as a joke but you know he’s being serious 💀 like that man does NOT CARE, he’ll take you in the bathroom if he has to.

a/n: naur, you're onto something anon. I always picture Soap as a horny bastard; not much restraint in his not-so-little body. got a little carried away on this, lol. warning(s): nsfw, horny stuff, fem!reader

imagine you bought a house together and the nice idea of throwing a little housewarming party, for him, for you — inviting his co-workers and some friends of your own. he insisted a thousand times that you didn't have to invite them; but only because of all the embarrassing stories they were going to tell you about your boyfriend.

but, when all was said and done, it was a great gathering. you did it all yourself — the meals, the decor, the staging of your newly purchased outdoor furniture — everything. it was alluring to Soap, how frazzled and insistent on "perfection" you were. though, you heard about a thousand times, that they would eat anything you put in front of them.

when you two sat around the fire, gaz asked how you two planned on celebrating the new house once the festivities died down. an innocent question; but it sparked in your boyfriend's mind. "aye, we'll find a way to celebrate, that's for sure. jus' gotta make sure the timing's right," he played it off with a chuckle, but there was no mistaking how flustered it made you.

it was going perfectly, or as perfect as a party with these people could be. a lengthy dinner in the backyard, endless conversations, and a little too much indulgence in the booze for some of them. "great party, great house. should have you decorate the base sometime, eh? if it's half as nice, it'll help with morale." price commented as he talked to you and him.

Soap's arm remained around your shoulder, your waist, or anywhere throughout the night. you didn't think anything of it, frankly, you were too laser-focused — until his neediness grew. brushing against your backside, a caress on your thigh lingering, a small wink when the guests weren't focused on you.

some went off to the side to smoke, and others remained on the patio to continue their conversations. by now, it was time to get the mess cleaned up. plates, cups, wrappers, empty bottles, and the other trash that had accumulated.

"i'll help you with that, love. you've done enough tonight, haven't ye?" he approached after dismissing himself, grabbing the second stack of silverware and following you inside. Soap finally had his opportunity to seize what he desired, when he knew the party was much less alive, much less prying eyes on you two.

you stepped inside from the patio, him closing the sliding door behind you. dumping the plates into the sink, you turned on the faucet with the intention of beginning a long night of clean-up duty. his hand reached around you, turning off the faucet, "not what i meant by helpin' you, lass. c'mon," he motioned his head in the direction of the hall.

you took one more look out the window, seeing the preoccupied guests, most paying little mind to your guys' close proximity in your new kitchen. why the hell not? might as well cross the guest bathroom off your list of "places we've had sex in our new home" — right?

before the door even closes, he's hiked up the hem of your evening dress, shoving his hand down the waistband of your panties. Soap ends up fucking you senseless on the bathroom counter, gagging you with his fingers in case any of his co-workers came inside the house to grab another chilled drink. you were only a few feet from the kitchen, it was the definition of risky.

mid-thrust, there was a soft knock. price, goddamn price. "everything alright in there, sweetheart?"

even with his superior on the other side of a door, about a foot away, did Soap stop? no, of course not. he slowed down but never stopped. he removed his fingers from your mouth, biting his lip to mock you that look in your eyes, whilst they shot open in a frenzy. you cleared your throat to conceal a moan, using every ounce of strength to not feel Soap bottoming out over and over again. "uh, just a— just a little wine on my dress, John. no worries!"

as soon as price's steps retreated down the hall, Soap's ragged, growly breaths resumed. in a split second, his ruts went from mockingly slow, back to a relentless pounding.

before there was any chance of another interruption, he finished with a sneer on his face. "wine on the dress, eh? smart girl. i like that." he heaved against your lips, gently wiping any mess that smudged on your lips. you were livid, despite coming down from your own high. a palm smacked his chest repeatedly until he shut your heated whispers up with a hundred pecks across your jaw and mouth.

Soap walks outside first, blaming the lost time on him fishing through the moving boxes for a Tupperware you needed. whether it was believable or not, that was up for debate. the sweat lingering on his brow, the afterglow of sex on his face? unmistakable.

now, you've either have to splash water on your dress to imitate where you would've scrubbed a wine stain off. or... just, walk on out of there like you hadn't just been fucked stupid — with trembling legs, naturally.

[naboospeopleprincess]

HOT & STICKY 𖤓 SELKIE!READER X JEREMIAH FISHER

The sky over Cousins Beach was churning, thick clouds rolling in from the horizon. The weather report had been dire—something about a tropical storm intensifying into a hurricane by nightfall—but inside the Fisher house, it was eerily quiet. With everyone else out running last-minute errands, the only sounds were the distant rumble of thunder and the slow hum of the air conditioner struggling against the suffocating heat.

The humidity inside wasn’t much better. It wrapped around everything, making your sheer white off-shoulder shirt cling to you like a second skin. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on your arms and neck as you pushed open the sliding glass door to the porch, already dreading the task ahead.

You stepped outside, barefoot on the warm wooden planks, and surveyed the scattered patio furniture. Jeremiah was already there, his tanned skin practically glowing under the heavy gray sky. He gave you a slow grin, eyes lazily dragging over your outfit—a too-thin white shirt paired with tiny bike shorts, hair piled up in a messy knot.

“Well, don’t you look ready for the storm,” he teased, wiping his hands on his board shorts as he approached.

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a small smile. “You said we needed to bring in the furniture. I’m not about to do that in a sweatshirt.”

Jeremiah laughed, that easy, boyish sound carrying over the thick, humid air. He took a step closer, close enough now that you could smell the faint salt from the ocean lingering on his skin. “Trust me, I’m not complaining. You look… well, let’s just say I’m definitely not rushing to finish this job.”

Heat flushed through you, but ignoring it, you turn towards the scattered chairs instead. “Come on,” you muttered, bending down to grab one of the outdoor cushions. “Let’s just get this done before the rain starts.”

His grin widened, but he didn’t press you—at least, not yet. As they worked, the wind started to pick up, blowing your hair loose from its knot and sending strands flying across your face. Jeremiah, however, seemed unbothered. In fact, he was far more interested in the way your skin glistened under the humidity. He shot you a look over his shoulder as he grabbed the last chair.

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but you have a serious glow going on right now.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it you couldn’t ignore.

You looked up, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. “It’s the sweat, Jere. We’re practically melting out here.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer, abandoning his task of stacking the chairs for now. “Nah, I think it’s more than that. There’s something about you…” He trailed off, his blue eyes dropping to your lips for a brief moment before catching your gaze again. “You’re shining.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he looked at you, his usual playful smirk turning into something more heated, more intense. You tried to shake it off, focusing on the last of the cushions, but when you stood up again, Jeremiah was right there—close enough to brush against you if either of them moved even a fraction of an inch.

“Jeremiah,” you began, trying to keep things light, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible.

He grinned, tilting his head as if he hadn’t just closed the space between them. “What? We’re just having a little fun, right?” His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “You know, there’s no one else around...”

Your breath hitched, the electric tension between them almost unbearable in the thick, humid air. You knew where he was going with this, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to stop it.

“Jere…” you warned, though your voice came out softer than you intended. It wasn’t exactly convincing.

He moved closer, his hand still grazing your arm, sending little sparks through you. “Come on,” he murmured, his voice lower now, intimate. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this too.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the storm growing closer, but it felt like nothing compared to the storm brewing between them. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Jeremiah beat you to it.

His hand slid down to your wrist, tugging you just slightly toward him. “It’s just us. No one’s going to come back for hours. And we’re stuck inside until this storm passes...” His voice trailed off, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. “Why not enjoy ourselves a little?”

Your cheeks flushed, the heat from his touch and the heavy air making you dizzy. He wasn’t wrong. They were alone, the house empty, the world outside threatening to collapse under the weight of the incoming storm.

And for a brief, reckless moment, the only thing you wanted was to give in to the electricity crackling between them.

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[deathmetalunicorn1]

Liang (nanbaka) becoming friends with a girl headcanons request pls

I tried my best with this.

-You were a quiet but hardworking guard in Building 5 under Samon- you handled the paperwork side of things and kept the office portion of the building running smoothly, much to Samon’s relief.

-You disliked violence and seeing other guards resorting to violence to handle the inmates, as you believe most times it wasn’t needed. However, despite not liking violence didn’t mean that you weren’t strong yourself- you just didn’t advertise it like others did.

-You were holding a stack of papers, seeking out your supervisor but you knew where he was, as it’s where he always was- in the training grounds with those from Cell 8, Upa, Qi, and Liang.

-You knew it wasn’t common in other buildings to allow the inmates out to train and have free time like this, but you knew Samon allowed it because these three followed the rules.

-You opened the sliding door that led out to the training grounds, seeing the three inmates and Samon together, Samon sparring against Upa and Liang while Qi was lounging on the patio, not bothering with training, despite Samon yelling at him to do so.

-You approached and Samon noticed you first, standing down from the battle, thinking the other two would do the same but Upa kicked him hard, sending your supervisor hard to the ground as his staff spun in the air, heading straight towards you.

-Liang’s eyes went wide in panic, “Y/N!” but you didn’t look bothered as the three inmates look panicked, seeing the bo-staff going to hit you as Samon lifted his head, quickly seeing this as well.

-Your hand lifted, almost nonchalantly and caught the bo-staff, easily twirling it before holding it up beside you, stunning all but Samon into silence as you smiled softly at him, “Sir, I have the reports you needed, for the Warden.”

-Samon got up, dusting his front off before approaching you, taking the paperwork from you first, looking over everything before he nodded, “Good work Y/N- I’ll deliver these. Stay here and watch these three.”

-You nodded and he rushed off after taking his staff, Qi instantly was up and came over, taking one of your hands in his own, trying to flirt with you, “You look lovely today- ACK!” Upa charged forward and kicked Qi away from you, glaring lightly and you sent a small nod to the smaller boy who said nothing to you.

-You knew Upa respected you, as he knew that you were strong, as he began to pick at Qi for slacking off while Liang came over. Liang didn’t have much experience speaking with girls but surprised himself by asking if you were okay.

-You smiled gently at him, flexing one of your arms up, “I’m fine- I’m stronger than I look!” he wasn’t completely sure as he sat with you while Upa force Qi to fight him, calling him weak.

-Liang was pulled into the fight after Qi made a jab at him, “And what about Liang- he’s just sitting on his as chatting up Y/N!” Liang’s temper flared, charging in and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, seeing the three interact.

-Liang pouted after he returned to you, feeling annoyed by Qi’s words, but you weren’t bothered as you spoke, “Your fighting style is really unique- you must be so strong!” your flattery made his cheeks burn lightly, but he couldn’t help but feel fluffy inside at your praise.

-Qi pouted from the ground as Upa was sitting on his back, “Hey what about me?!” you just smiled over at them, “Yes- yes- Upa is very strong too. And Qi is…. alive at least.”

-Upa didn’t smile but Liang burst out laughing, thinking it was hysterical at your jab as Qi comically cried that you were so cruel to him.

-Upa joined you and Liang up on the porch, Upa holding onto the hand that caught Samon’s staff, inspected it for any damage, showing how he cares in his own way.

-Liang inquired about your own fighting style, sensing that you were strong, but your answer surprised them, “I don’t like fighting- I don’t like causing harm to others, so I only fight in self-defense.” Your reasoning was respectable but they both shared a look, ignoring Qi, wanting to know exactly how strong you actually were.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Checkmate ( Book 3 of 3: BTR Series ) a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 5: Illusions..

Flashback: May 25th, 2025 12:47 AM

As the night went on, Jey found himself growing incredibly hungry. The music thumped through the patio speakers, and the party was in full swing outside. He set his beer down on the table, glancing around to make sure no one noticed his escape. The song Shake That Monkey by Too $hort blasted loud, with everyone laughing and hyping each other up.

Jey slipped through the sliding glass doors into the house, letting out a relieved sigh at the sudden quiet. He made his way to the fridge, opening it with anticipation. The cool light illuminated the shelves, stacked with leftovers from the night’s feast.

“Alright, what we got here…” he mumbled to himself, his eyes scanning over containers of ribs, chicken, and a suspiciously large bowl of potato salad. He grabbed a plate and piled it high with everything that caught his eye.

Just as he was about to close the fridge, the sound of footsteps made him freeze. He turned, his mouth already full of a piece of cold chicken.

“Really, babe?” Rhea leaned against the counter, her arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

Jey raised an eyebrow, still chewing. “What? A man’s gotta eat.”

Rhea shook her head, walking over to grab a fork from the drawer. “You couldn’t wait until everyone left?”

“Listen, you married me knowing I don’t wait for food,” Jey said, grinning. He held up a rib. “Want some?”

Rhea rolled her eyes but grabbed a piece of chicken off his plate anyway. “Don’t tell me you came in here just to raid the fridge.”

“Maybe I just wanted some peace and quiet with my wife,” Jey said, leaning against the counter and watching her take a bite.

Rhea smirked. “Nice save.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, sharing bites of food and enjoying the rare calm in the middle of the chaos.

From outside, the unmistakable sound of Joe’s booming voice echoed. “HEY, WHERE JEY AT?!”

Rhea chuckled. “You think they’ll notice we’re gone?”

Jey shrugged, grabbing another rib. “Let them wonder.”

Rhea leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. “This is nice, though. Just us.”

Jey smiled, kissing the top of her head. “Yeah, it is.”

The moment didn’t last long, though, as the patio doors slid open and Trinity poked her head in. “Caught ya! I knew you two were hiding out in here!”

Jey groaned, holding up his plate. “What do you want, Trin? I’m just tryin’ to eat in peace.”

Trinity laughed. “Boy, you better bring some of that food outside before Joe notices you got all the good stuff.”

Jey sighed, grabbing another plate and piling it with food. Rhea grabbed a bag of chips and smiled. “Guess the quiet’s over.”

Jey grinned at her. “At least we had a moment.”

The two of them followed Trinity back outside, where the party was still in full swing. Joe caught sight of the food and shouted, “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”

Jey shook his head, laughing as he handed the plate to Joe. “You’re welcome, Tribal Chief.”

As the music continued and the night wore on, Jey couldn’t help but feel grateful. This was his family, his life, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

As the party continued, Jey leaned back in his chair, watching the lively energy around him. The warm night air was filled with laughter and music, and everyone seemed to be lost in their own little moments. He glanced at Rhea, who was sitting a few chairs away, deep in conversation with Liv and Kayden.

Smirking, Jey reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her gently toward him. “C’mere, mama,” he said with a grin.

Rhea raised an eyebrow but let him pull her over. “What’s up?” she asked, her lips curling into a smile.

Instead of answering, Jey pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. The song 21 Questions by 50 Cent began playing through the speakers, and Jey leaned in close, his voice low. “You know this one, right?”

Rhea chuckled. “Of course I do. Classic.”

Jey tilted his head playfully. “Alright, let’s play a game. I’mma ask you the same questions 50’s asking, and you gotta answer honestly.”

Rhea laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, you’re serious? Alright, fine. Hit me.”

As the first verse played, Jey grinned. “If I fell off tomorrow, would you still love me?”

Rhea smirked, tilting her head. “Obviously. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

Jey nodded, satisfied with her answer. “If I didn’t smell so good, would you still hug me?”

Rhea laughed out loud. “What kind of question is that? But yeah, I’d still hug you. I’d probably just tell you to take a shower first.”

Jey chuckled, squeezing her waist. “Fair enough. Alright, if I got locked up and sentenced to a quarter century, could I count on you to be there to support me mentally?”

Rhea’s expression softened, and she turned to face him fully. “You know I’d be there, no matter what. I’d probably cuss you out for getting locked up, though.”

Jey laughed, his eyes lighting up. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The game continued as the song played, each question drawing more laughter and teasing from the two of them. By the time the chorus hit again, Rhea was leaning against Jey’s chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Jey grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And you love it.”

Rhea leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Yeah, I do.”

From across the patio, Jon called out, “Hey! What y’all over there whispering about?”

Jey smirked, looking over at his brother. “Mindin’ our business, Uce. Try it sometime.”

The group burst into laughter, and Rhea shook her head, resting her head against Jey’s shoulder.

The night carried on, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them, lost in their own little world.

—

May 25th, 2025 11:21 AM Flashback

Rhea whisked the waffle batter as she poured it into the waffle maker, her mind settling into the calming rhythm of the morning. The smell of coffee brewing filled the kitchen as she glanced up and saw Trinity and Jon coming down the stairs, their overnight bags slung over their shoulders.

“You two not staying for breakfast?” Rhea asked, smiling as she tilted her head.

Trinity shook her head apologetically. “No, girl, sorry. Solofa’s already blowing up Jon’s phone about the twins.”

Jon rolled his eyes and held up his phone, which buzzed in his hand. “Man, he’s texted me five times in the last ten minutes. He’s worse than Mom sometimes.”

Rhea chuckled, setting down her whisk. “Alright, go ahead then. But you’re missing out on some damn good waffles.”

Trinity grinned, stepping forward to hug Rhea tightly. “Next time, babe. Thanks for everything—last night was so much fun.”

Jon leaned in for a quick hug as well. “Yeah, sis. We’ll see y’all soon.”

Rhea stood by the front door and waved as they walked outside, the sound of an Uber idling by the curb. She lingered for a moment, watching them climb into the car before it drove off.

She closed the door with a soft sigh, turning to glance around the now-quiet house. Most of the guests had already left earlier that morning. Only Isayah and Dahlia, along with Dominik and Liv, were still here, though all four were still fast asleep.

As she returned to the kitchen, the sound of light footsteps caught her attention. Rhea looked up to see Daya, Jaciyah’s girlfriend, coming down the stairs, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

“Morning, Daya,” Rhea greeted warmly, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Morning,” Daya replied, giving her a small wave. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night.”

“Anytime,” Rhea said with a smile. “You headed out?”

“Yeah, my dad thinks I’m at my friends house.” Daya gestured toward the driveway. “Tell Jaciyah I’ll call him later, okay?”

Rhea nodded. “Will do. Drive safe.”

Daya smiled and waved again before heading out to her Malibu, the engine revving softly as she backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.

Rhea returned to the kitchen, pouring another batch of waffle batter into the maker. Just as she closed the lid, she heard heavier footsteps coming from the stairs. She looked up, and there was Jey, finally making his way down. His hair was a mess, his mullet sticking out in every direction except straight.

Rhea couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you wrestle a bear in your sleep?”

Jey smirked as he scratched his head, his voice still raspy from sleep. “Something like that. You’re lucky you weren’t in the ring with me.”

“Uh-huh,” Rhea teased, pouring him a cup of coffee and handing it to him. “You want waffles or just the coffee?”

Jey took the mug and leaned on the counter, his eyes scanning the kitchen. “Both. I’m starving. Smells good in here, though.”

“Of course it does. I’m the one cooking,” Rhea quipped, earning a chuckle from Jey as he took a sip of his coffee.

The two shared a quiet moment, the peacefulness of the morning settling over them like a blanket. For all the chaos of their lives, mornings like this made it all worth it.

Jey set his mug down on the counter, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned against it.

"Come over here, you beautiful goddess," he murmured, his deep voice low and inviting.

Rhea smirked, wiping her hands on the towel again before sauntering over to him. "What do you want now, Fatu?" she teased, though the grin on her face gave her away.

Jey grinned, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. "Bring this sexy thang over here," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear.

Rhea giggled, her hands resting on his chest.

"What are you up to?"

"I was thinkin'.." Jey's voice was thick with suggestion as he leaned down, planting soft, deliberate kisses along her neck with each word he spoke. "After breakfast... maybe me... you... a little husband and wife time... back in the bedroom."

Rhea shivered slightly under his touch, tilting her head to look at him with a playful smile. "What's in the bedroom?" she asked coyly.

Jey's lips grazed her jawline as he hummed.

"Hmm... maybe me... you... and some magic we didn't get to finish last night."

Just as Rhea was about to respond, a loud and awkward cough broke the moment. "Ugh. Did I interrupt something?"

Rhea and Jey both turned to see Dominik standing in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic grimace. He was clad in one of Jey's oversized YEET shirts, clearly having forgotten to pack pajamas the night before.

Rhea let out a snort of laughter, quickly pulling away from Jey as she tried to compose herself.

"Dom! Don't you knock or something?" she teased, though the humor was evident in her voice.

Dominik shrugged, looking anywhere but at them.

"Didn't realize the kitchen was... uh, occupied like that. I just came for coffee."

Jey sighed, running a hand down his face as he tried to keep from laughing. "Man, you're killing me. There's coffee right there." He pointed toward the pot. "Help yourself."

Dominik nodded and quickly shuffled to the coffee machine, avoiding eye contact. "You two... carry on. Pretend I'm not even here," he muttered awkwardly.

Rhea leaned into Jey, her laughter barely contained as she whispered, "Guess that's your karma for calling me a goddess."

Jey smirked, his hand slipping back to her waist as he murmured, "Nah, the goddess part's still true. Just gotta wait till we're alone to prove it now."

Rhea rolled her eyes but couldn't stop smiling, the warmth of the moment carrying them through the hilariously awkward interruption.

—

Flashback August 27th, 2025 – 6:00 PM Jon and Trinity’s Stamford Home.

Jon sat in the living room of his house, eyes glued to the TV, waiting for his brother Jey to text him. They had dinner plans later, but Jey was late. He thought about calling, but just as he was about to reach for his phone, the news anchor on Stamford 6 News broke in with an urgent report.

“We have breaking news that has been confirmed by Stamford PD at exactly 12:02 PM today: former WWE superstar, Hall of Famer, and current WWE Executive Writer Demi Fatu, aka Rhea Ripley, has been kidnapped from WWE Headquarters.”

“What the shit?” Jon muttered under his breath, slowly standing up as the report echoed in his ears.

Jon’s heart dropped. His body tensed as his eyes widened, unable to process what he’d just heard. His mind couldn’t make sense of the words, but his body moved before he could think.

His thoughts were racing. Rhea? Kidnapped? He barely had time to register the words when he heard footsteps behind him. Trinity appeared in the doorway, holding Judah tightly in her arms, her face pale and streaked with tears.

“Jon, Jon, it’s not true, is it?” Trinity asked, her voice shaky, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

Jon turned to her, still reeling from the news. “He just said Rhea’s name!” he said hoarsely.

Trinity’s face crumpled in shock, tears spilling over as she shook her head in denial. “Oh my God, what about Jey? What’s he gonna do?” she whispered, panic setting in.

Jon didn’t think twice. His brother was all he could think about now. He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door, not even sparing a glance at his wife, who was calling his name in vain.

“Jon!” Trinity’s voice was desperate, but Jon ignored it. His mind was already racing—he had to get to Jey, make sure he was okay, and find out what happened to Rhea.

Jon’s car screeched to a halt in front of Jey and Rhea’s house. The moment he stepped out, he could see the flashing lights of the police vehicles, and he immediately noticed the officers talking to his brother. His stomach dropped as he saw Jey, standing by the front door, clearly enraged. Jon heard him yell out, “Fuck!” and watched in disbelief as his brother punched the door in frustration.

Jon’s heart ached at the sight. Without thinking, he rushed over to his brother, his feet moving faster than his thoughts. He reached Jey just as his brother slammed his fist into the door once more, his body trembling with anger and fear.

Jon grabbed him by the shoulder. “Josh, it’s gonna be okay, man. Let’s talk.”

Jey whipped around, his eyes wild, and shoved Jon away with a force that surprised him. “No!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “It’s not fucking okay! Rhea’s gone, Jon! She’s fucking gone!”

Jon’s heart broke for his brother. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew they needed to stick together, now more than ever. He turned to the officers, demanding, “Give us some space!”

The cops, understanding the situation, stepped back slightly, but it was clear Jey wasn’t listening to anyone. In a fit of rage, Jey turned and ran upstairs, his footsteps heavy with urgency.

Jon, refusing to let his brother spiral, ran after him, not even pausing to look back. The EMT, who had been on standby just in case things got out of hand, followed close behind.

Jon reached the top of the stairs, only to see Jey pacing in their shared bedroom, his hands tugging at his hair, his face red with frustration. “I can’t lose her, Jon. I can’t lose her!” Jey screamed, his voice full of pain.

“Josh, listen to me,” Jon said softly, trying to approach him. “We’ll find her. We’ll get her back.”

But Jey was too far gone, too deep in his own panic. He swung his fist wildly, striking out in desperation. Jon barely dodged the punch, but it was clear his brother wasn’t in his right mind.

Before Jon could react, the EMT stepped in, trying to calm Jey down. But Jey fought back, pushing and shoving as he tried to break free. His movements were erratic, fueled by the stress of the situation.

The EMT, seeing how unstable Jey was, quickly administered a sedative, his actions quick and efficient. Within moments, Jey’s body slumped, his eyes fluttering as he passed out.

Jon, his heart pounding, felt a rush of helplessness. He bent down next to his brother, his own tears threatening to spill. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He had promised Rhea that he would protect Jey, but now, it felt like everything was falling apart.

As the EMT began to check on Jey, Jon stood up, his eyes still locked on his brother’s unconscious form. He wasn’t sure what to do next, but one thing was clear—someone took Jey’s heartbeat, Jey’s reason to live… Jey’s breath.

After about twenty minutes, Jon carefully laid Jey down on the bed, ensuring his brother was as comfortable as possible despite the chaotic situation. The sedation was starting to take effect, but Jey’s face still twisted in pain and confusion, a silent testament to the deep agony he must have been feeling.

Just as Jon straightened up, he heard the sound of an engine pulling up outside. His head turned toward the window, and soon enough, he saw Trinity walking through the door, her face lined with worry but carrying herself with a calm strength. She had clearly just driven over in her new Escalade.

“I called the sitter from down the street,” Trinity said, her voice steady as she crossed the room. “She’ll be with Jarrell and Judah tonight.”

Jon sighed, relief flashing across his face for a brief moment. With everything else going on, at least his sons would be safe and taken care of. It was one less thing to worry about, even if only for the night.

Trinity stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him. Jon held her tightly, letting the warmth of her embrace ground him, if only for a second. But the weight of the situation quickly came rushing back, and before Jon could speak, a uniformed cop entered the room, his face hard and serious.

“We’re doing everything we can, but I suggest someone stay with your brother,” the cop said, his gaze shifting between Jon and Trinity. “Given he’s a brand new father to a newborn, it might be best for him to have someone close by right now.”

Jon’s heart clenched at the mention of Jey’s new role as a father. Rhea’s kidnapping was affecting everyone, but it had to be devastating for Jey, who had barely had time to adjust to life with his new family. He needed support, and Jon wouldn’t leave him alone.

“I’ll stay with him,” Jon said firmly, his voice full of determination. He didn’t even need to look at Trinity to know she would support him. She gave him a quiet nod, then gently stepped aside to let the cop exit.

After the cop left, Trinity leaned down and kissed Jon’s cheek. “I’ll see to things downstairs, make sure everything’s in order with the police,” she said quietly. “You take care of Jey.”

Jon nodded, his gaze returning to his brother, still lying on the bed, unconscious but restless. “Thanks, Trin.”

Trinity exited the room, leaving Jon alone with Jey. As the door closed, Jon sat down in the chair next to the bed, his eyes never leaving his brother’s face. He could barely believe what had happened—how quickly their world stopped.

Downstairs, Trinity had just entered the living room when she saw Rhea’s parents and sister Calista standing by the front door, their expressions filled with dread. The news had spread quickly, and they’d arrived, unsure of what to expect.

Trinity approached them slowly, her heart aching for Rhea’s family. Seeing them in pain was just another reminder of how real this situation was.

Rhea’s mother, a woman who had always been strong and stoic, stood frozen, her hand covering her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. “Trinity, what do we know?” she asked, her voice wavering.

Trinity felt the knot in her throat tighten. She wanted to reassure Rhea’s family, but the truth was, no one knew much of anything. Not yet.

“We’re waiting on updates from the police,” Trinity said, trying to keep her voice steady. “But they’re doing everything they can to find her.”

Calista looked at Trinity with frantic eyes. “How could this happen? Rhea… she’s not just anyone, she’s…” Her voice trailed off as she sank into one of the chairs, the weight of the situation finally breaking her.

“I know, Calista,” Trinity said softly, sitting beside her. “But they will find her. We have to believe that.”

Rhea’s mother, ever the protector, shook her head, her eyes filled with pain. “My daughter is out there… someone has her. How could they do this?”

“I don’t know,” Trinity whispered, feeling helpless. She wanted to give them the answers, but the situation was slipping through her fingers, and no one had any concrete information yet. “We just have to hold on. We can’t give up on her.”

As the family absorbed the gravity of what had happened, Trinity couldn’t help but feel a gnawing sense of fear. There was a part of her that was terrified—terrified for Rhea, for Jey, for the future of their family.

She wiped her eyes and stood up. “I’ll check with the cops again. But stay close, alright? You’re not alone in this.”

Rhea’s mother nodded, though the look on her face showed that, just like everyone else, she was struggling to cope with the unknown.

Upstairs, Jon remained by Jey’s side, staring at his brother’s face, willing him to wake up and snap out of whatever nightmare had taken hold. But for now, all he could do was sit in silence, his mind racing with questions he didn’t have the answers to.

The whole world had been turned upside down in the blink of an eye, and none of them had a clue what was coming next.

—

The hours had stretched on, and the house had become a place of tense silence, the air thick with unspoken worry. Rhea’s father was growing increasingly restless. His eyes darted around the living room, constantly searching, hoping for something, anything, to give him some semblance of peace. But there was nothing. No updates. No answers. Just the weight of the unknown. His daughter was missing, and the emptiness in the house felt suffocating.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Rhea’s father muttered, his voice thick with frustration and grief. He turned to his wife, then back to the others. “I can’t stand being here, in her house, without her. Without knowing if she’s alright.”

Rhea’s mother, still quiet with worry, nodded slowly but didn’t respond. The thought of their daughter being out there, in danger, was more than either of them could bear. Rhea’s father’s hands trembled as he grabbed his phone again, checking for any updates that never came.

In the midst of the tension, the conversation shifted as Rhea’s father made a sudden decision. “I’m taking Jeyson,” he said, his voice hard, almost desperate. “I won’t leave without him. He should be with us. He needs his family, his real family.”

Trinity, who had been standing nearby, her eyes filled with concern but her posture rigid with determination, stepped forward immediately. “You’re not taking him,” she said firmly, looking Rhea’s father in the eye. “Jeyson stays here with his father, and right now, Jey’s not well. He’s barely holding it together. You can’t just take him.”

Rhea’s father frowned, his frustration quickly turning to anger. “He’s my grandson, and I’ll decide what’s best for him. I’m not going to leave him here while this… while all of this is going on.”

But Trinity didn’t back down. “Jeyson is six days old. He’s not going on a sixteen-hour flight to Australia, especially not now. I can promise you, my father-in-law, Solofa, and my mother-in-law, Talisua, will be here on the next flight to Stamford. They can help Jey with Jeyson, but not until everything settles.”

Rhea’s father stood still for a moment, considering her words. The desperation to have his family close to him was strong, but the reality of the situation was sinking in. It wasn’t the right time. Jey was barely holding it together, and Jeyson needed stability more than anything.

Rhea’s mother stepped in then, her voice laced with frustration. “This isn’t right. Our daughter’s missing, and you’re talking about waiting? Jeyson should be with family. He belongs with us.”

Jon, who had been standing quietly near the door, spoke up. “My wife is right. And Jeyson needs his father, especially now. Jey’s not in any condition to be traveling, and neither is Jeyson. I won’t let you take him on a plane for that long.”

Rhea’s father shot Jon a sharp look. “You think you know what’s best for my grandson?”

Jon took a step closer, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not here to argue. I’m here to make sure Jeyson is safe and stays with his family right now. And his family is here. You need to understand that.”

A tense silence hung between them, the weight of the conversation settling heavily in the room. Rhea’s mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she said nothing more. She knew Jon was right, even if her heart was torn apart by the situation.

Finally, Rhea’s father nodded, though reluctantly. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But we’re selling our home in Australia. We’re moving here to Stamford. We’ll be close to our daughter, and to Jeyson.”

Jon took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I understand. But for now, let’s remain civil..”

Rhea’s parents, clearly upset, exchanged a final look before turning and walking toward the door. Calista, Rhea’s sister, followed them without saying a word, her eyes haunted with worry. The heavy sound of the door closing behind them marked the end of the conversation, but the tension in the room lingered.

As they left, Jon let out a slow breath. The next few hours would be even harder, but for now, they had to focus on keeping Jeyson safe and taking care of each other. This situation was far from over, and there was still so much they didn’t know. But they had to stay strong, for Jeyson, for Rhea, and for the family they were trying so desperately to hold together.

As Jon made his way upstairs to be with Jey, the weight of the situation hung heavily in the air. The house felt more like a prison with every passing second, and the uncertainty of Rhea’s disappearance gnawed at Jon’s insides. But he couldn’t let that show—not now. His brother needed him more than ever, and he wouldn’t let Jey face this alone.

Meanwhile, Trinity moved with quiet urgency, her mind racing as she worked to secure the house. She first went to the door and locked it behind her, ensuring that no one could enter without their knowledge. But it wasn’t just the door that needed attention. Trinity moved quickly to the security system, punching in the code to the gate and setting it to lock. No one would be able to access the property without their permission, not even with the proper code. It was just another layer of protection, one more step in ensuring that Jeyson, and everyone else, remained safe in the midst of the chaos.

Then, with a final glance around the house, Trinity took it upon herself to change the codes. She knew Jey trusted her to handle things like this, to keep everything in order, even if the world felt like it was falling apart. As the new codes were set, a faint sound from the nursery caught her attention—the unmistakable cry of baby Jeyson.

Trinity’s heart clenched at the sound. She knew she couldn’t leave him crying, not when Jeyson needed someone. Her gaze fell upon the counter, where the formula was still sitting, and beside it, a pamphlet with instructions on how to prepare the bottle. It was a small thing, but it made her realize just how much they had all been thrown into this whirlwind without much time to prepare.

With quick, practiced hands, Trinity prepared the bottle. The instructions were simple, but she still double-checked the measurements, ensuring that everything was perfect for the little one. When the bottle was ready, she made her way upstairs, her steps light but quick. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency, knowing that the baby needed comforting and care right now, just like everyone else in the house.

When she stepped into the nursery, Trinity’s heart warmed at the sight of baby Jeyson, his tiny face scrunched up in distress. She couldn’t bear to see him upset, especially with everything else going on. She moved to the crib and gently scooped him up, her arms instinctively cradling him against her chest.

“Hey, chunky monkey,” she whispered softly, her voice tender as she rocked him in her arms. The nickname Rhea had given him in a moment of lightheartedness now felt like a small comfort in the midst of all the fear. Jeyson’s cries slowly began to subside as she adjusted him to take the bottle. She smiled down at him, grateful for this moment of normalcy, even if it was brief.

As Jeyson drank from the bottle, Trinity’s mind wandered back to Jey and Jon. She knew Jon was doing everything he could to be there for his brother, but it still wasn’t enough to ease the weight of the situation. And Rhea… Where was she? What had happened to her?

The questions swirled in her mind, but for now, all she could do was focus on the little boy in her arms. He needed her, just as Jey and Rhea needed them all. And that was all that mattered.

—

Jey woke up at 7:42 AM, the effects of the sedative wearing off. He blinked several times, his bloodshot eyes adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. His body ached, and his mind was a tangled mess of emotions. He turned his head to see Jon lying beside him in bed, fast asleep. Jon looked exhausted, his face etched with worry even in sleep.

Quietly, Jey slid out of bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He padded down the hallway and stopped at the nursery. Pushing the door open, he found Trinity curled up in the rocking chair, her head tilted to the side as she slept. Jeyson was in his crib, his tiny body rising and falling with each peaceful breath. For a moment, the sight grounded him, but the peace was fleeting.

Jey left the nursery, his steps growing heavier as he walked to the guest bedroom. When he opened the door, he was confronted with the overwhelming presence of Rhea—the walls covered in posters from every era of her career. It was like stepping into a shrine, one that celebrated every phase of the woman he loved but also reminded him of the parts of her life she had kept from him.

He turned on the light, the fluorescent glow illuminating every inch of the room. Rage bubbled up inside him, rising like a tidal wave he couldn’t control. The emotions he’d been suppressing—the pain, the fear, the betrayal—burst forth all at once.

Jey’s fist connected with the framed poster closest to him, the glass shattering and slicing his knuckles. Blood began to drip onto the floor, but he didn’t care. He stared at the image of Rhea smiling, her arm raised in victory, and his anger exploded.

“WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT?!” Jey screamed, his voice echoing off the walls. He grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at another poster, the sound of the glass breaking feeding his rage.

He punched the wall repeatedly, the sharp pain in his fists barely registering. Blood smeared across the posters as he struck them over and over again. “WHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME?!” he demanded, his voice cracking with anguish.

Blinded by fury, Jey continued to trash the room. He ripped the posters from the walls, tearing them to shreds. Grabbing the lampshade, he threw it with all his strength at another framed image of Rhea. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision tunneling as his emotions consumed him.

“YOU WERE JUST SUPPOSED TO ONLY BE A FUCKING WRESTLER!” Jey bellowed, his voice breaking with raw emotion. In a final act of rage, he grabbed the nightstand and hurled it against the wall. The wood splintered on impact, pieces scattering across the room.

The commotion woke Jon, who bolted upright in bed. He quickly located the source of the noise and ran toward the guest room. When he opened the door, he froze for a split second, taking in the destruction. Jey stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his hands bloodied, and his eyes filled with a pain so deep it was unbearable to witness.

Jon didn’t say a word. He rushed to his brother and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Jey resisted at first, struggling against Jon’s hold, but the fight quickly left him. His knees buckled, and the two brothers sank to the floor.

Jey sobbed violently, the sounds ripping from his chest with a force that shook his entire body. “I don’t know what to do, man..” he choked out between gasps. “I can’t—I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

Jon held him tighter, feeling the warmth of Jey’s blood staining his hands and soaking into his white shirt. But he didn’t care. All that mattered was being there for his brother, grounding him in a moment when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

Meanwhile, in the nursery, Trinity rocked Jeyson in her arms, whispering soothing words to calm the terrified newborn. The crashes and screams had startled him awake, his cries piercing through the chaos. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Trinity murmured, holding him close. “Daddy’s just hurting, but Uncle Jon is with him. We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

As Jey continued to cry in Jon’s arms, the wreckage of the room around them mirrored the wreckage in his heart. But in that moment, with his brother by his side, he let himself feel the full weight of his grief, hoping that somehow, amidst all the pain, they could find a way to bring Rhea home.

—

Flashback: September 5th, 2025 – 11:21 AM

Solofa and Talisua stepped out of the Uber, their footsteps slow and deliberate as they watched the car drive away. The air was thick with the tension of the last few weeks, the emotional weight visible in the furrow of Solofa’s brow and the quiet determination in Talisua’s eyes. They walked to the gate of Jey and Rhea’s property, the silence between them speaking volumes.

Solofa entered the gate code with steady hands, the sound of the gates creaking open breaking the stillness of the morning. They stepped inside and waited for the gate to close behind them with a solid clang before making their way up the driveway.

Reaching the front door, Talisua entered the code with a soft click, and the door unlocked. Inside, the house was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. They found Jonathan in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter. His face was a portrait of exhaustion—dark circles under his eyes and a hollowness in his gaze that betrayed his emotional toll.

Solofa immediately approached his son, pulling him into a firm, grounding hug. “Jon,” he said softly, though his tone carried the weight of his concern.

Jonathan let out a heavy sigh, leaning into his father’s embrace for a moment before stepping back. “Dad,” he began, his voice hoarse. “It happened again. I had to call EMS to sedate Jey—again. This is the fourth time. They wanted to put him on a psych hold, but I…I couldn’t let them.”

Solofa’s jaw tightened, his hand resting on Jonathan’s shoulder as he exchanged a glance with Talisua. “We’re sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,” Solofa said. “We had to have arrangements to get everything settled in Florida, or we would’ve been here last week. But we’re here now, son. How’s the baby?”

Jonathan shook his head, his voice breaking. “I’ve been doing my best to take care of little Jeyson, but…he cries for Rhea all the time. It’s like he knows she’s gone, Dad. He’s too young to understand, but…” He paused, swallowing hard.

Talisua stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “Babies feel energy, Jon,” she said gently. “Right now, everything is chaotic, and he’s reacting to that. He needs stability, and so do you.”

Jonathan nodded, but his expression grew darker as he continued. “It’s not just that. Rhea’s family came by yesterday.” His voice turned bitter. “They threatened to call CPS. They said Jey’s not fit to take care of Jeyson, and they don’t think I’m capable either. They want to take him away, Dad.”

The room grew heavier, Solofa’s broad shoulders tensing as he absorbed his son’s words. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice low and steady but filled with an unmistakable edge. “Not on my watch,” he said firmly. “No one is taking that boy away from this family. You hear me, Jon? No one.”

Jonathan nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he leaned back against the counter. “I just…I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’ve got my wife to think about, my kids. I’m trying, Dad, but I feel like I’m drowning here.”

Solofa moved closer, placing both hands on Jonathan’s shoulders, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Jon,” he said, his tone softening but still firm. “Do you remember what I used to tell you and Joshua when you were kids? No matter what happens, I’ll always take care of you. Well, now it’s time for me to prove that. Go home, be with your family. I’ve got this.”

Jonathan hesitated, his eyes welling up as he looked at his father. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Solofa replied, pulling his son into another hug. “We’re family, Jon. And family takes care of each other. Now go. Your wife and kids need you, and we’ll handle things here.”

Talisua stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Jonathan’s arm. “We’ll call you if anything changes,” she promised. “But for now, trust us. Go home and rest.”

Jonathan nodded finally, his movements slow but resolute. He grabbed his keys and turned toward the door. Before he left, he glanced back at his parents, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Thank you. I love you both.”

“We love you too,” Talisua said softly, a faint smile on her lips.

As the door closed behind Jonathan, Solofa turned to Talisua, a look of steely determination in his eyes. “It’s time to take control of this situation,” he said. “This family has been through too much, and I’m not letting it fall apart now.”

Talisua nodded, her expression just as resolute. Together, they climbed the stairs, ready to face the chaos and begin the process of rebuilding what had been broken.

[sjsmith56]

The Next Night

Summary: An aspiring jazz singer meets Bucky Barnes through her grandfather and invites him to join her and her friends at a dance club.

Length: 4.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OMC, other minor OCs.

Warnings: brief reference to cannabis use. Otherwise, this is romantic fluff.

Author notes: This one shot is a sequel of sorts to the story Night Music. It is told with the singer as a central character. The music referenced can be found on Spotify. Stomping at the Savoy, performed by Jimmy Dorsey & His Orchestra (original written by Edgar Sampson, lyrics added later by Andy Razaf). Shake, Rattle and Roll (original title in 1940, then changed to Afternoon of a Moax), performed by Charlie Barnet and His Orchestra (music by Charlie Barnet). Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy, performed by Stan Kenton Orchestra featuring June Christy (music by Guy Wood, lyrics by Sammy Gallop). It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing), performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington and his Orchestra (music by Duke Ellington, lyrics by Irving Mills). The Man I Love, performed by Ella Fitzgerald (any version as they are all sublime), (music by George Gershwin, words by Ira Gershwin).

🎶 🎶 🎶

On the elevator up to the sixth floor apartment of Lia's grandfather, she thought over the response she got at Barney's the night before.  It had probably been the best audience she ever performed in front of at the open mic night.  The standing ovation to I'll Never Smile Again had been unexpected.  It was the first time she performed it live, wanting to honour her grandfather and the love he still had for his late wife, who died when Lia's father was only 6 years old, the youngest of four children.  Briskly walking down the hallway to her grandfather's apartment, Lia unlocked the door with her keys, being a frequent visitor to the man who encouraged her to pursue singing.  Cheryl, the day nurse / housekeeper came out of the laundry room.

"He's out on the patio," she said to Lia.  "He has a guest and is in fine form."

"Oh?  Who's visiting him today?  Darnell?" 

He was a musician whose father performed back in the day with her grandfather.  The two sometimes smoked up together, although Darnell often smoked the bulk of the joint.  Grandpa usually only took a couple of hits, claiming it helped his appetite. 

"No, a new friend."  Cheryl looked towards the door out to the patio before leaning towards her.  "It's that Bucky Barnes, the guy who used to be the Winter Soldier.  He seems nice enough and he's definitely easy on the eyes."

Well, that was interesting.  Thanking Cheryl for the heads up, Lia headed towards the door, looking out to where her grandfather sat with a dark-haired man, the latter with his back to the door.  She stepped out onto the bright surface, pulling her sunglasses out of her purse and sliding them onto her head.

"Ah, there she is," said her grandfather, raising his hand to her.

The dark-haired man stood up immediately and turned towards her.  Cheryl wasn't kidding.  Up close, the man was definitely handsome and familiar.  She noticed his left hand right away but put her hand out to shake hands with him.

"You must be Bucky," she said.  "Cheryl told me Grandpa made a new friend.  I'm Lia."

He smiled, shook her hand, then gestured to the chair he had been sitting in, getting another chair from a stack near the door and bringing it over as she kissed her grandfather on the cheek.  Letting her have his seat was a thoughtful gesture.  As she sat down, she slid her sunglasses on, then looked at the handsome super soldier.

"So, how did you meet Grandpa?  He doesn't get out much, being so old, even though he's young at heart."

Bucky looked at her grandfather first then smiled self-consciously.

"I heard you singing from the street and followed your voice to the fire escape of that building over there."  He pointed to the older apartment building across the alley.  "I climbed the fire escape and sat in the shadows watching and listening.  I wanted to see the face that went with that beautiful voice.  You're a great singer."

The compliment was sincere and she appreciated it.

"Thank you.  That's probably the most original pickup line I've ever heard.  Is it really true?"

"100% true," he grinned.  "After you left, your grandpa came over to the ledge and called me out of the shadows.  Invited me over for bourbon and a cigar, so I came over."

"That probably didn't go over well with Irene."  She looked at her grandfather, who winked at her.

"It didn't but we had a good visit before she got here," said Grandpa.  "You and Bucky should go out sometime.  He loves the music that you love so that's something you two have in common already.  It's what your grandma and I started with."

She and Bucky both chuckled, then she leaned towards him.

"Do you like dancing?"

"Depends on the music," he smiled.  "If it's to the same music that you sing, then yeah.  I enjoy it, although I haven't danced since about 1943."

She was going to ask why then remembered his background.  It was weird that this man was as old or older than Grandpa but looked a lot younger.  Still, the smile that appeared when she asked him about dancing was quite attractive in its own right.

"Well, there is a club that has swing dancing to some of the older classics every Saturday night.  I was going with a group of friends tonight.  You're welcome to join us."

"You don't want a grumpy guy like me with you," he answered. 

"Why not?" she asked, a hint of a challenge in her voice.  "Didn't stop you from watching me sing at Barney's last night."  Bucky coughed as he inhaled some cigar smoke the wrong way.  "I saw you."

"Told you she's got a mind of her own," grinned Sid.  "You should go, show these kids how it's done old school."

A chuckle escaped from Bucky's mouth.

"Not sure I have it in me anymore but sure."

Lia took her phone out, looked up the club and copied the location into a text then waited expectantly for Bucky to give her his phone number.  After she entered it she texted him the information, then watched as he saved her number to his contacts.

"Opens at 8 pm but we usually get there around 9.  You can wear what you want but my friends and I try to go period appropriate or a little dressy, although with this heat I won't be wearing stockings."

"I'll see what I can scrape together."

For the next hour the three of them talked of several things but it always came back to the music.  The fact that Bucky had seen several of her favourites, including Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington in person raised her estimation of him immensely.  The back and forth between him and her grandfather had her laughing more than once.  Although Bucky was invited to stay for lunch he begged off, claiming he needed the time to make himself pretty for the evening.  Lia walked with him to the apartment door, waiting as he picked up his breakfast leftovers from the fridge.

"Bagels and lox, huh?  Grandpa loves that."

"It's good food," replied Bucky.  "We did ask Cheryl to eat with us as I brought plenty."

Glancing at where the housekeeper was preparing lunch, Lia smiled.

"She's a nice lady.  Irene, not so much.  She wants everything her way."  She looked up at him.  "If you become a regular visitor try not to get on her bad side.  She can make it difficult for you."

"I like Sid, and I would like to keep visiting him, so I'll keep that in mind.  Does she like flowers?"

A laugh escaped from Lia.  "Yeah, what woman doesn't?"  She looked intently up at him.  "Don't stand me up, okay?"

"Wasn't thinking of it."

Impulsively, Bucky kissed her on the cheek, then opened the door to the hallway.  She watched him walk to the elevator, then closed the door after he entered it.  For a moment she stood there with her hand on the door knob.  There was definitely something worthwhile about Bucky Barnes.   Returning outside, she didn't see her grandfather, realizing he must have slipped into the bathroom.  When he returned, parking his scooter beside her chair, he reached out, inviting her to hold his hand.

"Do you like him?"

"Yeah, he's very interesting.  I could listen to his stories anytime."

He leaned closer.  "But do you like him?"  His eyes were fixed on her.  "Does he make you feel something inside?"

Sid Goldstein knew his granddaughter very well.  He knew that she was smart, ambitious, and intimidating to most men, because they underestimated her.  She could spot a fool within moments of meeting him.  So could Sid and he had quickly formed the opinion that Bucky Barnes was no fool.  The man had lived during the Depression, had worked a manual job, been a soldier, been a prisoner of war, and had survived decades of abuse and mind control to become the man he was today.  He had earned the right to have issues related to that abuse, but by all accounts he was an honourable man and Sid wanted nothing less than that for Lia.

"Yes, I do like him."  She fixed her eyes on her grandfather.  "I could fall in love with him."

"Well, spend some time with him, first, before you decide that," he grinned.  "But if it happens, then I can be happy for you."

He didn't add the caveat that he wanted to be sure she was set before he died.  Lia didn't like it when he talked about dying but he had noticed things lately; things that reminded him of his Minnie, who died in 1968.  Sid Goldstein figured his time was coming, soon.  Making sure Lia had someone to watch over her was the final thing he wanted to get done before he left this world, and he was certain the appearance of Bucky Barnes was a sign that he needed to take care of his granddaughter.

🎶

It wasn't as hot this evening as it was the night before as Lia got ready.  She chose one of her favourite dresses to wear, a red summer style with straps that met in between her shoulder blades then crossed at the front before returning to the back for tying off.  The flair on the skirt was perfect for dancing and if the house band called her up to sing, as they sometimes did, it would look great on stage.  With her hair up, the look would be complete.  A text from one of her girlfriends, Casey, said the ride share car was just minutes away from her place.  Quickly checking her makeup, Lia slipped her dancing shoes on, grabbed her clutch, making sure she had money, her phone, and lipstick, then headed out the door and down the elevator.  Casey, along with her brother, Jackson and his boyfriend Sean, greeted her with enthusiasm when she squeezed into the fourth seat of the SUV.

"You're wearing the red dress," noted Jackson.  "Someone you want to impress?"

"Maybe," answered Lia.  They all looked at her expectantly.  "I met someone and asked him to join us."

"Ooh, who is he?" asked Casey, "and why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I just met him this morning," she explained.  "He's a friend of Grandpa's." She sighed.  "I don't want to say who because he's known and I don't want you to have any preconceptions about him.  You'll recognize him when he gets there."

"Is the guy cute?" asked Sean.

"He's handsome, not cute.  He's a man, not a guy."

The two men peppered her with questions, trying to guess who it was but Lia refused to answer for the entire ride.  They all stared out the window at the small lineup already in place at the club, asking Lia if he was there.  She looked but didn't see him and shook her head.  As they clambered out, they saw more friends in line and stopped to talk.  Lia, who was a club member with priority entrance privileges, invited them to join her and went to the front of the line where the doorman, Brett, recognized her and let them in.  She waited for the others to enter then pulled her phone out, looking up a picture of Bucky.

"I'm expecting this guy to join us," she said, showing Brett the image.  "Could you make sure he gets inside?"

"You know him?" asked the burly doorman, surprised at the request.

"He's friends with Grandpa," she answered.  "Met him this morning."

"Okay," smiled Brett.  "I'll be nice."

"You're a sweetheart," she grinned as she entered.

More acquaintances were inside, greeting her as she looked for the others.  Several asked if she was performing but she just shrugged, as it was up to the house band.  By the time she got to her friends, the manager had already sought her out, asking for a couple of songs later.  As she sat on the banquette bench against the wall, a drink was slid towards her and a toast was made to having a great evening.  Then Jackson and Sean, sitting next to her, suddenly stopped talking and looked towards the entrance where a man was drawing attention just standing there.

"Is that ...?" asked Sean.

"Looks like him," replied Jackson.  "My God, he's hot."

Lia looked to where the others were focused, seeing Bucky eyeing the place, wearing black pleated pants, and a white shirt with a stripe pattern.  The shirt, with the sleeves rolled up exposing his powerful right forearm and left metal arm, was unbuttoned on the front, enough to show a white undershirt underneath.  He carried his jacket over his shoulder with his right hand. 

"Now that is a man," murmured Casey, then she noticed Lia leaving her spot.  "Wait, is he your date?"

"Yup, excuse me," said Lia, heading over to Bucky. 

As she got closer she noticed he wore a gold bracelet on his right wrist and a gold chain around his neck.  With his slightly long hair swept back, and his beard closely trimmed, he looked almost effortlessly and deliciously masculine.  Then he smiled as he saw her and came down the two steps onto the dance floor, shifting his jacket onto his left arm, while seeming to take in the whole space as he came closer.

"Hi," he said, kissing her on the cheek again.  "This is it, huh?"  He looked up at the glitter ball in the middle of the dance floor.  "Haven't seen one of those in forever."  He looked her up and down.  "That's some dress.  You look great."

"Thank you, so do you," she replied.  "Come and meet my friends."

Taking him by his right hand, she led him to where her friends were, introducing him to them.  He shook all their hands, saying their names in turn, then looked at the drinks on the table.

"Guess I should get something for myself."

"Oh, I'd love to buy you a drink," gushed Sean, receiving a little elbow from his boyfriend.  "We both would.  What would you like?"

"Bourbon, neat, a double.  Scotch if they don't have bourbon."

"Bourbon, it is," answered the giddy man. 

He stepped away from the table, walking backwards towards the bar, as if he didn't want to lose sight of Bucky.

"Don't mind him," said Casey, "he's just a little star struck.  We all are, since Lia wouldn't tell us who her date was."

Bucky smiled at her then turned to Lia.  "I'm your date?"

"You're trouble."

"Not me, I'm reformed."  A drink appeared from the side, courtesy of Sean, who was practically vibrating.  "Thanks."

"My pleasure," stammered Sean, who was pulled into his seat by Jackson.

Bucky waited for Lia to sit, then slid next to her, draping his jacket over the back of the banquette.  She noticed how with a quick glance on the way to the table, he knew where the exits were.  Now that he was sitting with his back to the wall, he seemed slightly more relaxed.  He smiled at her, sipping his drink, then patiently listening as the others demanded to know how he and Lia met.

"I climbed up a fire escape when I heard a beautiful voice singing.  Wanted to put a face to the voice."

The other women in the group, plus Sean and Jackson, put their hands over their hearts, affected by his words.

"She was singing for her grandfather and after she left, Sid asked me to come over for a drink and a cigar.  I met her this morning after I took him some bagels and lox."

"How is Grandpa Sid?" asked Jackson.  "I love that guy."

"He's fine," answered Lia.  "Up to his usual tricks."  She looked at where the band were coming on stage then at Bucky.  "The music is going to start right away.  You ready to cut a rug with me?" 

"I'll do my best to keep up with you young 'uns," grinned Bucky, sipping his bourbon again.

The first song, Stomping at the Savoy, filled the dance floor.  Offering Lia his hand, Bucky led her to an open spot then took a breath and began dancing.  It was like going back in time, as his feet and hands seemed to remember exactly what to do.  She was a good dancer, and her smiling face, as she followed his lead, just added to the rush of dopamine to his brain.  When that song ended, the band went right into another song he hadn't heard in years, Shake, Rattle and Roll by Charlie Barnet and his Orchestra. 

"You know this one?" she asked, as he pulled her in for a moment.

"You bet," he answered.  "I didn't think anyone younger than 90 still listened to this music."

"Everyone in this club listens to it, and there are several other clubs in the city."  He twirled her away, bringing her back.  "It's good music."

As he twirled her away again, she added some oomph to it, watching him as he watched the flare of her dress raise up, exposing her legs.  His cheeky grin made her feel giddy inside and when he pulled her back into his space, he held her close, swaying his hips as they stepped in time to the beat.

"Oh, you are trouble," she grinned as she matched his moves.  "I would have thought you'd take me out to dinner first before you tried this."

"Sweetheart, I'll take you to dinner and make you breakfast," he murmured into her ear.  "Every day."

The heat of his breath on her neck spread throughout her body and she found herself with no words to throw back at him.  Then she felt the briefest touch of his lips on the pulse point below her ear and knew she was definitely liking this man.  Bucky took pity on her and toned it down a bit but the next song, a slower, sultry number, almost made it worse as he focused his gaze completely on her.  Never had a man made her feel like she was the centre of his world in the same way that Bucky did while they danced.  After one more dance, she begged off to get hydrated, having a sip then grabbing her clutch and excusing herself to the ladies room.  Casey followed her, then barely waited for the door to close before taking Lia by her hands.

"What was going on between you two on the dance floor?"

Her eyes were wide open as she stared at Lia. 

"What do you mean?  We were just dancing."

"Lia, that was sex, plain and simple.  You might as well have just got down to business right there because no one was in that world with you two.  It was hot."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"  Lia looked at her face in the mirror, then took her lipstick out of her clutch and reapplied it.  "He's intense but he wasn't inappropriate with me, as hard as it is to believe."

"What did he say to you?  You almost melted after."

She turned towards Casey, leaning against the sink counter.

"That he'll take me to dinner and make me breakfast, every day."

"Damn.  The man has moves, serious moves."  Casey leaned against the counter beside her.  "You taking him home?"

"I don't know."  She breathed out, accepting that she may have met the one.  "I like him, as in really like him."

With a look at each other, that best friends could use without words, the two women left the ladies room and returned to no Bucky, no Sean, and no Jackson at the table.  The others pointed to a place on the dance floor where Bucky was showing both of them that swaying motion he used on her, then watching as they did it together.  Giving them the thumbs up he returned to the table, his face brightening up when he saw Lia.

"They asked how to do that," he said, unashamedly.  "Didn't always have a girl handy to practice dance moves with.  They were saying that you were probably going to sing with the band later."

"Don't change the subject," interjected Casey.  "You were dancing with guys back in the 40s?"

"If there were no girls around, yeah."  Bucky frowned slightly.  "It was war time and sometimes a guy wants to dance."

She flopped back into her chair, fanning herself, to his amusement.  Lia grinned at him and sat down.

"Yeah, they often ask me.  They know I'm trying to build a repertoire and be noticed."

Another song started that Bucky knew and he put his hand out to Lia.  They danced non-stop for the next three songs then the band announced they were taking a short break.  Knowing that she would be up when the band took the stage again, Lia excused herself to the artist's room to begin warming up.  The club manager stepped in, watching her for a few minutes before he said anything.

"That's Bucky Barnes, right?"  Lia nodded.  "Damn, he's a good dancer."  She nodded again.  "Do you think he would pose for a picture?"

"You'll have to ask him," she said.  "May I warm up in peace, please?"

With their break over the band returned to the stage, warming up a little, then their leader introduced Lia, who stepped on to enthusiastic applause.  She sang Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy, a fun song that Bucky danced with Casey.  Then she went straight into Ella Fitzgerald's It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing).  Most of the dancers stopped to listen to her, including Bucky, knowing without a doubt that for this evening he felt the most normal he had since before the war.  As the song ended and she thanked everyone, a voice from the back called out.

"Can you do The Man I Love?" 

Lia tried to find a face to go with the voice but the spotlight made it difficult to make out faces at the back. 

"It's not a swing number."  She looked at Jason, the leader of the house band.  "Do you guys have the music for it?"  He nodded and waited for his band to bring it up on their iPads.  "Alright, last song for me, The Man I Love by George and Ira Gershwin.  Thanks for listening."

Someday he'll come along

The man I love

And he'll be big and strong

The man I love

And when he comes my way

I'll do my best to make him stay

Something magical happened as she sang.  Couples still danced, but many faced her with the taller partner behind their shorter one, swaying slowly to the music.  It brought Bucky back to a time he heard several women singers, like Billie Holiday, Lena Horne, and Ella Fitzgerald singing it in a smoky club, making it their own with their unique sound, just as Lia was doing at that moment.  Her face showed all the emotions of her love for this music, music that her grandfather had shared with her from the time she first sang along to Miss Ella, as he called the legendary singer.  It was proof of her talent and how special a woman she was, a woman Bucky never wanted to be parted from.  She looked at him then, as if she realized the same thing about him, her face softening when she sang the final line I'm waiting for the man I love. 

With the band getting back to their usual music, and many of the audience stopping her to say something personal, Bucky waited as Lia made her way towards him.  Extending his hand to hers, he squeezed it, then lifted it to his lips.

"That was beautiful," he said, loud enough for her to hear it.

"Thank you."  She looked towards an exit.  "I need some fresh air.  Come with me."

The manager nodded as she put a doorstop on the exit, so they could come back in after.  Outside, in the slightly cooler air, she leaned against the brick wall, then up at Bucky as he stood facing her.  Gently, he touched her cheek, then leaned closer and kissed her softly on the lips.  Her arms reached for his shoulders then around his neck as she kissed him back, passionately, crushing her lips against his.  The heat from him as he pressed his hard form against her was noticeable, warming her whole body with its intensity.  But she didn't pull away, knowing that this type of heat wouldn't burn or harm her.  It was a heat she had always wanted to feel, a love burning just for her, a love that would never die, just like the love her grandparents had even though one of them had been dead for a long time.

"I hardly know you," she whispered, when he pulled away enough for them to breathe.

"You know enough.  We don't have to do anything you're not ready for but I'll always be here for you."  He watched her face intently as he spoke.  "I want you and only you for as long as you'll have me."

She swallowed.  "Then let's start with breakfast ... the first of many."

🎶

In their later years, after their children were grown and had started families of their own, Bucky Barnes and his wife, the famous jazz singer, Lia Goldstein, would often be seen out walking in their Brooklyn neighbourhood, their hands intertwined as they walked their dogs.  The former super soldier who became a congressman, then a senator, then Secretary of State before retiring at the age of 140, was often asked about the nature of what made a love last a lifetime. 

"The right moves, the right music, and the right partner," was always his answer.  "With some help from an old man who loved one woman for almost his whole life."

It was an answer that he shared freely with anyone who would listen.  That second night of listening to Lia sing was the night he truly left his past behind and committed to a future with a particular woman.  Her night music captured him on the first night he ever saw her and he never missed a subsequent performance if he could help it.  It was a beautiful romance between the former soldier and the singer that lasted for a long, long time.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[theelizamanelli]

Kanpai

Fumiko is the first daughter to be born into the Hime clan in over a century. A secret prophecy forces her into the path of imminent danger. After a failed assassination attempt, the Jujutsu elders dictate that she requires more aggressive security measures. How will cheerful Fumiko handle her new bodyguard? Tags: 18+, female oc x jjk mmc, bodyguard, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, eventual romance, eventual smut, blood and violence, implied/referenced death

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Sneak Peek

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Fumiko Hime dove to the ground, crawling along the broken glass. Warmth slipped down her legs as she struggled to slide her body towards the pillar. She grit her teeth as she willed one last surge of strength from her muscles before pulling herself into a seated position - her back to the concrete. 

She leaned her head against the cold surface, breathing heavily. Her eyes fluttered closed - gasping, she lurched forward as a curse gripped her ankle. It slowly dragged her in its direction, its mouth opening wide to swallow her calf. 

Fumiko yanked her leg, kicking at its side with her free foot. 

“Come on, Hime,” a voice shouted from the far corner of the room. “We just want to play!” 

She winced at his sadistic tone, shoving the curse off of her with a stifled grunt. Fumiko wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, she looked down at her sweater stained red.

She was positive that there was a scenario where she made it out of this alive, though she admitted that in this current state the odds were not in her favor. The curse slowly inched itself in her direction, she grimaced at it before darting her eyes around - analyzing the area. 

The dining room was in a state of disarray, tables tossed on their sides and chairs strewn about the space. The floor to ceiling windows that stood tall on three sides were nearly all broken, the glass glittering against the grain of the wood. 

Fumiko reasoned that if she could make it to the corner, she could climb out of the broken window to the patio below. The restaurant sat at the top of a high rise building, apartments stacking underneath. 

Using the post, she slowly pushed herself up - hopping slightly on her unaffected ankle until she was able to balance herself. 

“Hime! Hime! Hime! Where are you?” the deep voice asked, a low chuckle following. “I bet you look so pretty covered in blood. Don’t worry, I’ll send your body back to Daddy when I’m done with you. Let him see his princess one last time.”

Fumiko shut her eyes tightly before taking a deep breath, “You can do this!” she whispered before pushing off of the post. She hobbled towards the corner, careful to not look behind her. 

Her ankle hit a solid mass causing her to tumble to the ground. Fumiko used her elbows to prop herself up, quickly looking back to see what had tripped her. A young woman’s body lay lifeless, her face smashed against the ground as blood pooled into her hair. 

Fumiko’s eyes widened, she faltered momentarily before shaking her head. She crawled on her knees the remaining length to the window, peering over. 

The drop was significant - the people on the streets of Tokyo dotted below. Wind whipped at Fumiko’s hair as she gripped the window frame tightly. 

“Trying to escape, are we?” the voice sang, still a distance away. 

Fumiko quickly sat up on her knees, scooting herself towards the edge. She allowed her feet to slip down onto the ledge above the patio’s door. Straightening, she gripped the frame and guided herself down - she knew the railing should be right below her feet if she could reach. 

She strained her foot, desperately attempting to feel for the metal. 

“Got you!” a man’s head stuck out from the window frame, pressing his boot to her fingers.

Fumiko screamed, losing grip with her uninjured hand - it fell to her side. She made the mistake of looking down, noticing that the patio was slightly off of her path. Her shoe slipped from her foot, plummeting to the sidewalk below. 

She winced and looked back up at the man, his dark hair framing his face. 

“You know, I think you’d look even better splattered on the ground.” he examined his nails as he spoke, his eyes lazily trailed towards hers as he smiled.

Fumiko closed her eyes - she thanked her family for providing her with security, her friends for their never ending support, and her Maker for her privileged life before closing her eyes.

The man laughed, lifting his boot from her fingers - they slipped off the frame and Fumiko felt the air rush upwards. 

She landed roughly into strong arms. Fumiko gasped, opening her eyes.

“You are harder to keep alive than I thought,” sighed Kento Nanami.

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author's note: chapter one will be fully released at a later date, holding off for a secret reason that may or may not have to do with my other fic Tengoku (if you haven't checked it out, I highly encourage you to do so by following this link). Please let me know if there is a lot of interest in this type of story and I can potentially hasten its release.

[simstorian-blog]

Pebble Burrow

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Bedford Strait

Lot Size:  30 x 20

(3-bedroom—4 beds, 2 Bathroom)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

Cats & Dogs

Desert Luxe Kit

Dream Home Decorator

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Spa Day

Strangerville

Build Mode

Harlix – Orjanic Pt. 1 (Sliding Door)

Harrie – Kwatei Pt. 1

LedgerAtelier – Marble Buro Floors

Max20 – Poolside Lounge (Agave)

MrOlkan – Pools

Peacemaker – Vaulted Ranch

Pierisim – Tilable (Used throughout)

Buy Mode

Awingedllama – Apartment Therapy (Floor Plant, Tastefully Lamp)

Awingedllama – Blooming Room (Plant 2)

Awingedllama – Boho Living (Cement Planter, Curvy Lamp, Floor Plant)

BlueTeas – Rivers Bed Blanket

Charly Pancakes – Miscellanea (Books)

ClutterCat – Mellow Moods (Inner Circle Rug)

Felixandre – Grove Pt. 2 (Stacked Bowls, Stacked Plates)

Felixandre – Shop The Look 1 (Hanging Lights, Wooden Table)

Felixandre – Paris Pt. 3 (Coffee Table)

Harlix – Baysic

Harlix – Baysic Bathroom

Harlix – Harluxe (AC Control, Book w Sunglasses, Light Switch)

Harlix – Kichen (Glasses, Tumblers)

Harlix – Livin’ Rum

Harrie – Coastal Pt. 2 (Outdoor Coffee Table)

Harrie – Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switch)

Joyce – Simple Live # 5 (Bathrobe, Shower Gel)

Joyce – Simple Live # 6 (Umbrella Rack)

KiwiSims4 – Blockhouse Bedroom (Floor Lamp)

KKB – Citrus Room (Cushion V1, Paintings)

Meinkatz – Moor Rug

Meinkatz – Superoblong Bed

MyCupofCC – Bathroom Collection (Fluffy Slippers)

Nordica Sims – Art Poster 01

Peacemaker – Bowed Bedroom (Squat Lamp)

Peacemaker – Hinterlands Living (Fringed Pouffe)

Peacemaker – Hudson Bathroom (Portal Mirror)

Peacemaker –Kassova Sectional

Peacemaker – Kitayama Bedroom (Smaller Zen Table)

Peacemaker – Matilda Mudroom (Beanie on Hook, Knit on Hook)

Peacemaker – Over the Rainbow (Pencil Tin)

Pierisim – David’s Apartment Kitchen (Fridge, Sinks, Stove)

Pierisim – David’s Apartment Pt. 2 (Nightstand, Double + Single Bed Frame)

Pierisim – Domaine Du Clos Pt. 3 (Single Bedding)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 1 (Books, Simstudio Display)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 3 (Narrow Rug,)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Counters + Island + Shelves)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 5 (Double Bedding, Plain Rug)

Pierisim – Oak House Pt. 1 (Sideboard)

Pierisim – Tidying Up (Shelf)

S-imagination – Oak & Concrete Patio (Round Grill)

Simplistic – Indigo Art Prints

SixamCC – Life in Plastic (Bar Chair)

SixamCC – Small Spaces (Desk Calendar)

Sundays – Java Pt. 1 (Throw Blanket)

Sundays – Keidri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow Prints + Solids)

Sundays –Keramas Pt. 1, 3, 5 (Daybed Single, Living Chair, Sofa)

Sundays – Sumatra Pt. 1 (Patio Bench)

Syboubou – Dino Bedroom (Drawings)

TianaSims – Cookbook

Tuds – Ind 02 (Décor Bottles)

Ung999 – Faye Blanket

Winner9 – Malibu Books

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

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