#and they’ve never been able to live it down

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force • ch 3

Chapter 3 - DARK PREMONITION 

Jake x female reader

Words: 14.1k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

*It's been over a month, and I'm so sorry. Life has been happening fast. Thank you for sticking with me through this one, I hope you're enjoying where this story is going!

Warnings: Dystopian Horror, Cursing, Crying, Suspense, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Violence (& mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Mentions of Forced Beatings, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Lying, Attacks, Deceit, Panic, Mental Anguish

Y/N

Three days, we’ve been in here. Three days since we were all blindfolded and made to sit in the metal-walled room, cold and terrified and confused. Three days since Paps and I had tried to make a run for it, and ended up almost crashing the truck into those black, shadowy creatures.

And three days since I had sat face to face with Jake Kiszka.

They’ve barely let us sleep, let alone see the light of day. On that first night, they’d drug us into a long room lined with cots, not even saying a word to us as we all just assumed we were to lay down and sleep. Luckily I’d found Paps and we were able to get cots beside one another, but the fact that he was able to be close to me still didn’t ease any of the deep, unsettling feelings in my gut about what the hell is going on. 

Paps and I had managed to talk to a few of the other people in the group, and just like us, they were kidnapped by strange, shadowed creatures, too. Everyone described it the same way, like it was out of a horror film. They looked human, sort of, but they didn’t feel it. They were cloaked in hooded robes, and none of us ever saw their faces. They had an aura I couldn’t explain, like they had one foot on earth with us, and one foot somewhere else completely. 

My intuition told me that since they felt so terrifyingly separate from breathing in the same air as me, that maybe they really weren’t of this earth. Fucking outrageous, I thought to myself, but, was it? Honestly, these days, nothing is surprising. 

The men that surround us constantly are dressed in black and armed to their teeth, and they remind me of those scary looking “military” men you’d see on video games, with their night-vision glasses and helmets strapped tightly under their chins. They’re quiet, but they use force at every given chance. I know underneath all of the garb, they’re just men. 

And still yet, I hate them.

They have all of us pushed into this singular room and forced to pretend that everything is normal. I want to scream at them, beg them for answers, be the one who finally lashes out for the rest of the group, but I hold back. I admit, their guns do scare me. 

“Y/N, is that… Jake, over there?” Paps asks me as we sit facing one another on our cots, each of us wrapped in the thin gray blankets they’d supplied us with. “The one that played guitar, right?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah, it is him, Paps. Crazy, right? I can’t even wrap my head around all of this…” The situation we’re in is one that I truly would have never even dreamt up. I find myself thinking I’m crazy, dreaming… or living inside some type of wild mental break from the terror of realizing the world is ending. I feel like I could go to sleep and wake up in my own bed, in my own little cottage back in Cheatham county, and all of this would be a strange and unfond memory. But what little sleep I have gotten the past couple of days has given me no rest at all, only adding to my awful mental state.

“How did he get here, too? I mean, I guess fame doesn’t matter during the apocalypse, but…” Paps is having a hard time understanding, too. I glance over to Jake, seeing him sitting cross-legged on his cot, staring at the floor below him as he’s wrapped in his blanket just as we are. The wounds on his face look better than they did three days ago, but I can still see the scratches and bruises.

A year ago, I’d be starstruck, shaking and giddy with nerves from being in such close quarters with one of my idols. But now, here, we’re on level playing field. We’re all lost and confused, hungry, and terrified. Hostages who can’t decide on our next move. 

“You should go and talk to him,” Paps suggests, his voice gritty. 

“NO!” I almost yell. “I mean, no, I… wouldn’t even know what to say…” I reply, my eyes jumping between Jake and Paps. 

“What do you mean?!” Paps says. 

“I… I don’t know, I mean. The other day when they were taking our blindfolds off, I showed him my tattoos. He recognized them, and he shook his head, telling me no, told me to stay quiet. I dunno, the look in his eye was threatening, like he didn’t–I don’t know. Like he didn’t want to even be associated with me,” I explain to Paps quietly as one of the guards passes by us. 

“What can he even say though, sweetheart? None of us know what is going on, maybe he has some clue? Maybe you could talk to him, he looks…”

It’s true, Jake looks more downtrodden than all of us. He always carried himself with just the right mix of confidence and humbleness, catching the eye of every single person he passed, but now it looks like the weight of the world is literally on his shoulders. He hasn’t spoken to a soul. Has hardly moved from his cot except to visit the one-stall bathroom at the end of the room. I’ll admit, I do feel bad for him, and I have thought about going and speaking to him again, but… the way he looked at me the other day…

“Just go, honey. We’re all just people, here…” Paps urges, reaching his arm out to push my shoulder in Jake’s direction. 

I take a quick deep breath, centering myself as I work up the confidence. This is so strange. I stand up and wrap my arms in the blanket, letting my feet carry me across the cold tile floor. 

I slowly walk to him, approaching him gently, not wanting to startle him from his gaze straight down into the floor. I crane my neck a bit, willing him to look at me. “Jake?” my voice is raspy. 

His eyes, those eyes I stared into for so many years as I watched him on stage, watched him in interviews, watched him fall in love with his instrument over and over again… the warm chocolate brown they used to be are now a sullen, deep black, and I know immediately that the life they once held has started to quickly fade to something else. 

They shoot to look back at me. Fast, while he recognizes me, then back down to the floor. He stirs on his seat. “You shouldn’t speak to me,” he mumbles, and I feel my heart shatter. He’s uneasy again, just like when he saw my tattoos. 

“I—I won’t bother you, if that’s what you want, I… I noticed you haven’t spoken much to everyone else and I just wanted to say hello, not as a, you know… but as a fellow capturee.” 

I don’t even know what I’m saying. Capturee? I’m blabbering. I’m starstruck! Yes, even still in this dark room during the apocalypse I am still…starstruck by him. Captured by his fucking presence, just like I always thought I would be if I ever got the chance to meet him. 

He bites his lips quickly as he avoids me. My hands clench together underneath my blanket, and I realize that what I’d actually said wasn’t that bad, I am truly just trying to reach out. 

After a few seconds, he taps the cot in front of him, inviting me to sit. Though it seems he doesn’t really want me to, I still believe he’s too sweet to turn someone away when they speak to him. 

So I gently sit where his hand was, swallowing hard as my heart rate flies. And within seconds, I’m face to face with him again. But this time, I’m so close, I can see everything that all those photographers over the years just couldn’t capture. He is so fucking…

“I said you shouldn’t speak to me, not that I don’t want to speak back,” he says, gritting out his words as his eyes dart around. 

“I—I’m sorry, I guess I don’t understand—“

Suddenly he grabs my arm in his hand, gripping it from underneath the blanket I hug around myself. He pulls my sleeve back, and quickly takes account of all of my tattoos I’d shown him just two days prior. I let him, his grip fast and sloppy, and I can just barely feel the rough callouses still left behind on his fingertips from all the years of playing his guitar. My stomach falls. 

My arm is resting palm up in his hand as he gazes on it, and I can see his back rise and fall a few times as he takes deep breaths. Then, as quickly as he’d gripped it, he pushes it back to me. I’m speechless. 

“What’s your name?” he whispers, his eyes bouncing to the guards. 

“Y/N,” I reply. 

“You followed us? Back then?”

I nod, “Yeah, I did. Since uh, since Strange Horizons, up until…”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking his head just a little. I’m off-put by his attitude, and I begin to wonder if he really isn’t as sweet as he’d put on all those years. 

“So it’s safe to assume you’re well-versed with everything we ever made…” he asks, rubbing his hands over his face as the blanket sits over his shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’d say I am…I mean, I was one of those people that did the ‘deep-diving’, I’m sure you knew about all that,” I stumble out. 

He nods as he winces at me. A guard walks behind me, and I watch as Jake tenses in his presence, avoiding looking at him, too. 

“Yeah, we knew about that.” His words are clipped, and I’m able to tell, now, that maybe he really doesn’t want to talk to me, even though he invited me to sit on his cot with him. 

“Um, it was…a lot of fun, figuring it all out…when you guys would release something new my friends and I would research and memorize and try and put all the pieces together for the world you’d built. Try to connect the dots, match things up from previous albums and try to project what was going to happen next. I can’t tell you how many theories there were—“

“God…” He scoffs again, rolling his eyes as he leans his head back, huffing an exasperated exhale. The fuck is his problem? He’s kind of starting to piss me off… I didn’t have to come over here and speak…

So I stop where I am, giving him the same sarcastic-ass look he’d just given me, and I begin to stand. “Alright, well it was nice meeting you.”

“No, wait…” his hand is on my elbow. “Sorry, you don’t have to…”

I pause, giving him a questioning look that tells him I don’t feel like my presence is welcome. 

“Please, sit back down,” he says, releasing his touch. I slowly do, wrapping my arms more tightly around myself to match his distant energy. I watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he thinks about what to say next. I’ve never seen him anxious, before. I’m the one that should be anxious. 

“How did they get you?” he asks quietly, this time finally looking me in the eye as he leans in a little closer. 

I push my knotted, unwashed hair behind my ear. “Well, my Paps and I were the only two of my family left, everyone else passed from the rash.” I point my eyes over Jake’s shoulder toward Paps, and he turns to look at him. “We got ahold of someone’s truck, and were heading back toward the city when we ran into these…things….” I try to think back on that experience, really feeling embarrassed that I am about to admit to Jake fucking Kiszka that I think we were abducted by aliens or some shit. Fuck. But, I digress…

“Things?” he asks. 

“Yeah, um. They were like… really tall, shadowy, men? I don’t know, they didn’t feel um. They didn’t feel human, when they captured us. I know that sounds crazy…” I try and awkwardly explain. But, it’s the truth. 

He cocks his head. “They didn’t feel human?”

“No, they felt almost, otherworldly. Like they were only halfway here,” I shake my head, trying to make myself sound like I know I’m crazy. “I dunno.”

But the look he returns to me isn’t what I expected. He doesn’t look at me like I’m insane. He looks at me like he just understood it. Just understood it all. 

“Fuck…” he mutters through his lips, his eyes wide with realization.

“What?” I press. “How about you? Where um, where is everybody else?”

He breaks away from his surprised stare. “I don’t know. Got separated. We were all staying up at some cabins back in Michigan, they came in the middle of the night. We all tried to fight them off, but it was no use. I woke up in the back of a truck, then again in a room like they had us held in when we were blindfolded,” he explains.

I won’t lie, I’m fucking enamored with the way he’s speaking to me right now, even with the heavy subject. I can’t help it. For years, just like every other person as deep in the fandom as I was, I spent my time being enraptured by him and the person he was. Completely taken by him, and possessing a crush unlike any other I’d ever had in my life. We all did. He’s still that man, just a little older, now. A little scruffier, a little more wrinkly. But then again, I’m showing my age, too. 

But I take his words in, picturing the scene and pretending I was there, and the fear he must have felt. How they all must have felt, being kidnapped by those things in the middle of the night.

“Your whole family was there?” I ask.

He nods. “I don’t even know who was kidnapped and who they left behind. But, it was men that took us, just like the fuckers patrolling us right now. They definitely weren’t aliens.” 

Did Jake Kiszka just fucking pick on me?

He smiles just a little bit as he watches me get offended. “I didn’t say they were aliens!” I yelp.

“Shh, shh!” he laughs, pressing his hand gently over my mouth. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly or else you’ll have the whole room freaking out.”

I bite my lips. Hard. Fuck, his hand was just on my mouth. 

I sigh. “I didn’t say they were aliens…” I whisper. “I said that they didn’t feel fucking human, okay?”

He breathes through another little laugh. “I know. I don’t doubt anything at all, these days,” he says. 

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?” I ask, just to clarify.

He takes a breath, looking behind me. “No, Y/N, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

My god, he just said my name. I have got to get my shit together. 

“Good,” I spit. “Because whatever had ahold of me wasn’t a person.”

His face goes white, and I watch his wheels spin. I can tell he believes me and my outlandish description. 

“Everyone up! Single file through the double doors! And stay quiet!” We’re suddenly aroused by the deep voice of one of the guards commanding that we all stand and move toward the doors. They’ve only done this once before, when they fed us what you could describe as a meal of sorts, but the effort it took to choke down would suggest otherwise. My attention is immediately redirected to Paps as I watch him stand and join Jake and I in moving toward the doors. 

“Paps, this is Jake,” I introduce them, and I watch as the slightest bit of a sparkle comes into Paps’ eyes as they shake hands. “Jake, my grandfather, Don.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jake says, and his voice sounds almost normal. 

“Pleasure is mine, son. I uh, quite enjoyed watching you play over the years,” Paps says. 

Jake’s eyes brighten as they look back to me. “Is that right?!”

“I kinda made Paps into a bonafide fan, just like me. He came to a few shows,” I explain, feeling a little shy at admitting this, in this setting.

“Wow, shame we didn’t get to meet before, sir,” Jake says, with a half-smile. “Thank you for coming.”

“Silence!” one of the guards bellows, lifting his baton high in the air before letting it fall directly over Jake’s back. “You weren’t told to speak!” 

I scream out, I can’t help it. Jake falls to the ground in pain and Paps falls to his knees beside him, as they were still holding hands from the handshake. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I yell, falling alongside them as he holds the baton high into the air again, ready for another strike. “Stop!!!”

The baton falls hard onto Jake’s back again before the guard stands back up, moving away from the line and addressing the group. I hear Jake hissing in pain as Paps helps him stand back up. 

“Does anyone else have anything to say?!” the guard yells, and I wish to god I could see his face behind his mask. The group mutters a few quiet no’s. “That’s what I fucking thought! Now move!”

We are all talking, why did they just punish him for it? Paps and I help Jake to stand and follow along with the line, and I feel myself seething with rage. What in the fuck was that even for?! We can’t even speak?

“Are you okay?” I whisper quietly to him. 

“M’fine,” he says, and we nearly carry him down the long, fluorescent-light lit hallway to the next room. It’s strange being around actual electricity again, and I snarl my nose at the fact that they’ve somehow found a way to harness it after the world has suffered so long without it.

After a couple of seconds he pushes our help away and we fall into the single-file line, walking fairly quickly to the room where they fed us before. 

JAKE

They told me they were going to treat me just the same as everyone else, but I never thought they’d be physically harming me out here in front of everyone. If anything, it’s almost as if they’re singling me out instead of blending me in, which kind of defeats the purpose, if they were telling me the truth. I know two of the men on guard with us are the two that spoke with me in the dark room, but I can’t tell if they are the ones using violence against me. Fuck, nothing really makes sense. And all I want is out of this goddamned building so I can find my family.

Now, as they throw us into this room with one singular long table, we gather to eat this sorry excuse of a meal again, all in complete silence. I can’t believe she had the confidence to come and talk to me on the cot earlier after that harsh, wordless look of warning I gave her two days ago when we were unblindfolded. I thought she may have gotten my warning and caught onto my message for her to stay silent, but I guess I have been on the anti-social side of things and probably look like I’ve been hit by a truck. 

Of course I’m locked up in this place with an old fan. Of fucking course. And of course she’s tattooed with all the symbolism we wrote into our music and art over the years, making her an unknown easy fucking target for this shit, if they knew. If they find out that she has just as much knowledge about whatever kind of shit we apparently fucking predicted, then she’s just as much on the road to having that baton over her back as I am. Should I tell her what I know? But even if I did, what would it change? She can’t wipe her tattoos off just as much as I can’t change my name. 

We all sit and eat in silence, all of us eyeing one another as the rest of them look on to me with pity, after having that fucking baton across my back. They don’t know me, I don’t think. None of them, except Y/N, have given me that feeling of being known, yet. 

As I scarf down the bland potatoes and cold canned vegetables, I run over the plethora of thoughts I’ve had for the past couple of days. I scan back to the very last few minutes I had with my family, if there was any detail that I’d forgotten, if there was any inkling I’d heard or missed that could give me any clue as to where they are. But every time I dig, I come up short. 

So then I move along to the conversation I had with those two in the dark room again. All those fucking wild things they told me, making me feel like this all is truly a fucked up dream. Realms? Other worlds? The battle… and the fact that they explicitly explained to me that the ones who live between both of these “worlds” are unlike us, could be the explanation for Y/N saying the ones who captured her felt like they were only halfway here. 

Kinda solidified that for me. She said it perfectly; the ones who captured them must have been the family that exists in both places, the ones who the Two told me were out still capturing immunes. It all adds up. But now, what do I do with all of this? And where the fuck am I gonna find my family?

My heart wrenches everytime I think of them, and how Josh and Sam and Daniel must be being treated exactly the same as I am, about to be pressured for information that we didn’t even know was important outside of our little fantasy music world. All those days Daniel spent locked away in his room, finally understanding that what we’d written was coming true. All of it being tied together… fuck, he was so right. And now we’re being punished for it. Used for it. I can feel my twin’s guilt from here.

I watch as one of the older ladies in the group is forced up by her arm, being pulled into another room. And then the same with the teenage boy. I panic, wondering where they’re taking them, and if we’re all subject to go. The rest of us all glance to one another in fear for a minute or two, until I hear what sounds like rushing water. A shower. Fucking finally. 

I haven’t felt a sense of impending relief like this in weeks. I’m hoping that the water is warm, at least, and they give us a few minutes of privacy to really get the good out of it. I look over to Y/N, and instead of seeing relief on her face, too, I see fear. 

It’s then that I realize there’s the possibility of one of the guards seeing her tattoos. She doesn’t know why, but she knows that based upon my look of warning, maybe they shouldn’t be seen. Now, I’m regretting not telling her. I have to do something. 

I get her attention and place both my elbows on the table, gently pulling my sleeve down with my pointer finger as I point to where her tattoos would rest on her arm. When I’m sure she’s locked in on me, I shake my head side to side, and again I place my pointer finger across my lips. Don’t let them see it, Y/N. Her brows furrow in confusion, and I try my damndest to quietly and secretly make her understand my charade. Finally I watch as realization falls over her, as she nods in return. 

Now I have to explain myself. 

A few minutes later one of the guards pulls me up and walks me to the apparent shower room, thrusting me inside and following me in. It’s even darker in here, which I’m thankful for, and there is a small stall with an old ratted shower curtain in the corner. The rest of the room is all concrete, with a small, cracked mirror on one wall and a tall cabinet on the other. “Undress,” the guard orders as he shoves me behind the curtain. I follow his order, the pull to have fresh water pouring over me more than my want for much else, right now.

The guard stands in the room with me, with his face to the wall. A little awkward, I think to myself as I look around for a shower head. “You gonna join me, or are you just here to make sure I don’t drown?” I ask him sarcastically as I peek from behind the dirty curtain. The water begins pouring from the chrome shower head, and I feel an ecstasy that I didn’t think was even possible, anymore. The water is lukewarm, but I’ll take what I can get.

I spot an old bottle of soap in the corner and help myself, lathering myself up quickly in fear of losing time in this paradise. I wash every crevice and my hair thoroughly, making quick time to rinse so I can spend a few blissful seconds with the water plummeting on my face. “Mmm, sure is nice in here, sure you don’t want to join?” I ask again, trying to egg him on or piss him off. I hum a loud song as if I’m enjoying myself, cocky with it even though I’m terrified of getting hit on the back again. I don’t even know if it was him that did it, I can’t tell any of them apart. 

Suddenly the masked guard is standing right by my shower curtain, tall and overbearing as he can almost see overtop of the pole. “You really don’t ever shut the fuck up, do you, Kiszka?” he blurts. 

I smile. It worked. I immediately recognize his voice as one of the Two. 

I continue rinsing myself off as I try and think of what to say next. “No, everyone always called me the quiet one, until they spent more than five minutes with me. Then they couldn’t get away quick enough,” I joke. “You the one with the baton? Could fucking ease up a little next time, you really make that shit real.”

“No. Isn’t me, it’s my brother,” he answers. The Two, they’re brothers?

Actually now, the more I think about it, the three minutes I spent with them in the dark the other day felt a little familiar. Their voices did mirror one another’s, and they seemed to offset the other’s energy. I could tell that without even seeing them.

“Was that the other one in the room with us two days ago? When you were explaining–”

“Yes. Was both of us,” his answer is clipped.

It’s silent for a second as I wait for him to say something else. Just then, my warm, blissful water supply cuts off, and my skin is already begging for it to come back. I groan at the loss, and begin wringing the water from my hair. “So you gonna give me something else? Any updates? They gonna take me away in the middle of the night again and drag me to a torture chamber to get answers out of me?”

I hear him huff a distasteful breath. “Listen, man, I don’t have much more information for you right now, but just know that yeah, that could probably happen at any minute. They haven’t told us much, lately. And I doubt they torture you…” he trails off. 

I rip the shower curtain open, completely uncaring that he’s seeing me stark naked, right now. Hell, this man has shared forbidden secrets with me, and I’ve never even seen his face. Fuck it. 

“Got a towel?”

He steps to the side and whips a door to the cabinet open, pulling out a thin white towel and tossing it across my torso. “Thanks,” I mumble. He then throws another set of thick fabric at me and I catch it before it falls. A pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt, both the same ugly gray color that look like they belong in a prison laundromat. Actually, maybe at one point, they did. 

I finish drying off and get dressed, and the man stands in front of the door with his back to me again. “That girl you were talking to, do you know her?” he asks. 

“No, not really,” I respond, “why?”

He shakes his helmeted head. “Just wondering, I do know that they’re going to take that old man that she sits with and sleeps beside.”

“Take him? Why? To where?” I’m suddenly panicked with worry, and I barely just met the man.

“He’s old, man. His time is limited. I don’t know much, but I’ve heard that they do some type of experimentation on the older immunes, see how much they can use them to their own advantage before their time is up,” he explains. 

“What the fuck? Experiments?!” I try and stay quiet when all I want to do is scream. “What is this, the fucking 1900’s?”

“I dunno Jake, all I’m saying is I heard they’re going to be taking the oldest from each of the pods here in the next few days and transferring them–”

“Pods? What are pods?” Now, I’m in his face, staring directly up into the dark glasses covering his eyes. 

“Eh, nothing, I can’t–”

“You can’t what, you can’t tell me? You’ve already given me all this fucking information and now you want to stop? I thought you said if I played my cards right, you’d be my best fucking friend… I’ve been cooperative, huh? So far?” I press. “What are fucking pods?”

His head nods away as he sighs, some type of radio beeping on his side. My time in the shower must be up. “Please…” I beg. “Is my family nearby?”

He looks at me again. “Listen, I don’t know much about the other pods, but I think that they are. I thought… I thought I saw your younger brother yesterday, walking down the main hall.”

“Sam..” I breathe.

“Yeah, Sam. The guy on the bass,” he responds. “I can’t tell you truthfully, Jake. Honestly, I just caught a glimpse. I would tell you more if I could, and as I learn more, I’ll feed it to you. We’ve just gotta be fucking careful, man. The other guards here don’t fuck around, ok? They’re trusted hires. Me and my brother, they have all the reason in the world to trust us. But they shouldn’t.”

I nod as his radio beeps again, and I place my hand on his shoulder. “Listen, would you do anything for your brother? Anything in the world to see him safe, alive?” 

I hear him swallow from behind his face covering. “Yeah, uhm. Yeah, I would.”

“Then you understand what it means to me when you said you think you saw Sam, what it means that I have to find them, protect them… just like you’d do for your brother just outside this wall, right?”

“Yeah, man. Yeah, I get it. I swear, as soon as I know more, you will hear it, too. From me or him. Remember, we’re on your side. We’re breaking free of this fucking place as soon as enough immunes are gathered… and we come up with a plan,” he says honestly. 

“I’m good at plans,” I say. “I’ll help.” He turns and opens the door, and I feel the rush of cold air enter the room with us, sending a chill over my still-warm skin. “And tell your brother that my fucking back hurts from the beatings…”

He forcefully ushers me back out into the dining area to join the rest, whispering to me through grit teeth. “All part of the charade…”

—-

As I’m laying on my cot later that night, I try to think of how in the hell I’m going to relay all of this to Y/N. How I’m going to warn her that they may be planning on taking her grandfather away. How we’re being kept in something called pods, which signifies to me that we’re just in some giant building being held in small groups so as to keep gossip to a minimum, keep us unorganized, distant. How I’m going to pass along to her the notion that everything we wrote, every piece of media we created, everything she followed and absorbed for so many years has literally everything to do with the situation we’ve found ourselves in. If I know anything about our fanbase at the time, it’s that though we wrote that music to be up for interpretation, most of it held true to a general, underlying fabric of that imaginary world. Well, I thought it was imaginary, and apparently Josh did too, until…

Should I tell her all of this? Should I even take the time to try and explain? I don’t even know her, but I almost feel obligated, at this point, to share my knowledge. She’s marked herself with proof that she knows the innermost details of our work, and has most likely formulated her own theories on it all. Of course they’d pester her for information, she’s a direct connection.

It may even be against her benefit to be seen talking to me.

I take a deep breath, wondering what good it would do to tell her about her grandfather, like she could stop it anyway. They’d probably just use force with them, too, and carry him off against his will if they tried to disobey and fight against the situation. 

The room is dark and quiet, save for the dimmed lights in the four corners of the room and the light snoring of my comrades locked up in here with me. I glance to my left, seeing Y/N laid on her side a few cots down, facing my way. Slowly, I lift my hand high into the air to wave at her, hoping that she’s still awake. 

A second later her arm is mirroring my action, floating up into the air and waving back at me. In the pale light, I can see a smile form on her face, her eyes lighting up just a bit as we both lower our arms back down beside us. It’s strange, I wonder what she’s thinking being locked up in here with me. I don’t often think about that kind of thing, from a “fan’s” point of view. I never really did, but sometimes it hits you. I wonder what it feels like to be on their side of things? Guess like how it felt when my brothers and I found ourselves in the presence of someone we looked up to. 

But this is quite different. 

I’ve got to get this information to her. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my days. But how in the hell am I going to speak to her while we’re under the constant eye of these masked men?

Could I write her a note, detailing it all out? No, they could find it, and then we’d really be in deep shit. Telekeneisis, speaking in code, using more hand gestures? I’m starving, and my mind is getting to a point of delirium. If it weren’t for that shower today and those frozen carrots, I’m sure I’d be on the verge of passing out, right now.

My eyes feel heavy as I watch her face half shadowed in the darkness, and I know it won’t be long until I think of something…

I fall asleep with a song stuck in my head, one that I haven’t even thought of in ages,

‘The drums will shake the castle wall, the Ringwraiths ride in black, ride on

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before…’

The melody of Page’s mandolin is ringing in my ears as memories of writing with my brothers infiltrates my mind, my body begging for peaceful mental rest. I can almost feel the instrument in my hand and the strings against my fingers as I hear the song playing in my memory. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

 Maybe tomorrow will bring something new. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Y/N

“Jake… Jake, wake up…” I urge him, watching as his eyes flit around behind his eyelids. I gently press his shoulder, feeling quite uneasy about coming in on such a private moment of his. How on earth I’ve found myself being able to be the one waking him up from a deep sleep, I’ll never know. So many years ago I dreamed of just being in their presence during a show, and now, this? I dunno. Mysterious ways. 

“Jake, hey…” I try again, learning that he’s a fairly heavy sleeper. I watch his eyes finally open and register my face, and so I step back a bit as I cower from his bubble. “I’m sorry, the guards have already started patrolling, and they’re acting really weird, not telling us anything… just thought you’d want to be awake for it,” I say, having trouble explaining.

He sits up under his blanket and rubs his hands over his eyes and face. I can see the dark circles under them have gotten much worse. I also see that sometime during the night, he’d taken his shirt off, and I notice the swollen bruises on his back from the baton yesterday. They’re puffy and red, and I feel horrible knowing he has to be in pain. 

“You took your shirt off, are you not freezing in here?!” I ask, hugging my arms to myself in effort to deter asking him about his back.

“No,” he mumbles, grabbing it from the floor and sliding it back over his head. “I burn up when I sleep, burn up all the time, actually. Can’t stand having clothes on.”

I open my mouth to argue with him, my mind zipping directly back to all those years ago when we would literally beg him to take his stage jacket off for a show, and even then, he only ever showed himself shirtless a handful of times. Psh, the fucker must have liked to sweat. But it feels out of place to question him, now. 

“Everyone up! Dressed! Single file!” one of the guards yells across the room as they all finally stand at attention. 

We do as they say, getting into our little line that we’re all now so accustomed to, standing silently in front of the double doors. My hand reaches behind me and finds Paps’, the two of our fingers quickly squeezing one another’s as we remind each other that we’re okay. Jake ended up in front of me, and I can’t help but notice that his hair is as long as it’s ever been… the ends a little frayed but still sitting perfectly across his shoulders in a way my hair could never even dream of doing. I want to reach out and run my fingers through it, it looks so shiny and soft, but I stop myself, knowing that a younger me would be shaking in her boots, right now. 

“We’re going outside today, your pitiful asses need sunlight and fresh air, or else you might wither up and die, and we can’t have that,” one of the guards announces with a sarcastic laugh. I listen closely to his voice and realize that he sounds like he’s around my age. I wonder how on earth he got tied up with a job like this, at the end of the fucking world, no less. His accent even sounds local. 

“Thirty minutes. You can conversate, but keep it to a minimum, we will be monitoring your every move, your every uttered word, and don’t think we won’t,” he says, and his voice is so normal, that it isn’t even threatening. His words, though, are. “Stay within the boundaries of the courtyard, or we will use force. Do not fucking test us.” He turns and adjusts his weapon in his hands as another one opens the double doors for us to be led out. We only take a few steps before he turns back around. “Oh, and it’s not warm outside. So enjoy that.”

They lead us through the doors and down a long hallway, almost as dimly-lit as the room we live in. I see multiple doors but no windows, just long, maze-like hallways of beige-colored walls. We walk for a long time, up and down flights of stairs, and I start to wonder if they are just giving us a little extra exercise. I turn to look at Paps, finding him keeping up just fine, surprisingly. “You okay?” I mouth to him.

He smiles, giving me a sweet nod. I feel proud of him, even in this devastation we’re living in. 

As I turn back around, I see Jake looking at me directly in the eye. He seems out of breath, but not in a sense that he’s tired. He looks nervous. His eyes flick to the side and I follow them, seeing an old fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, a big black ‘X’ painted across the front of it. That’s odd. 

We walk more, and I feel the muscles in my legs start to tire up a bit on our fourth walk up a flight of stairs. We stay silent still yet, all glancing around at one another as we start to realize how huge this building really is. 

We’re led through a door again, and I watch as Jake’s eyes flit back to me again, motioning at me to look at that exact…same…extinguisher?

What the fuck?

I watch as Jake is shaking his head side to side in front of me, his fists clenching at his sides. I can tell that he’s mad, I can feel it radiating off of him. We round the corner at the end of the long hall, and finally, another set of double doors are opening to allow us to see the light of day for the first time in nearly a week. 

My eyes burn and water at the sight of it, the icy cold wind already blowing across my face as we all walk slowly outside into the grassy courtyard. Fuck, this feels good. The wind freezes my nostrils, but the sun is bright. Beaming hot rays shine down onto my face, and I take a deep breath, smelling the scent of impending snow coming through the air. As my eyes dilate, I see the green of the grass, the brown bark of the barren trees, the shadows cast from the overbearing sunlight. It’s all almost overwhelming. 

As I get my bearings and shade my eyes in the light, I look around to find everyone else doing the exact same. Not even a week we’ve been locked indoors, but that was all it took for us to crave being outside.

“Do you smell the snow?” Paps asks, a sweet smile underneath his mustache.

“Yes,” I whisper, grabbing onto his arm as we share giggles. It is rare that we get heavy snows in Tennessee, but when we do, they arrive harsh and quick. And with the way the sun feels so different now, and the weather has made such harsh changes…

I subconsciously look around for Jake, and I finally see him seated on a stone bench, his hands in his lap as he looks around at the buildings that surround us. I look back at Paps, and he motions for me to go and join him. I bite my lip. “Just go,” he says. 

As I slowly approach him, I hug my arms around myself again, feeling my skin chill from the wind. “So I guess this cold isn’t bothering you, huh?” I ask him, noting his very relaxed and carefree posture as it cuts through me like a knife. 

He looks down and picks a loose string from the gray sweats that they’ve given us. “Not really in the least,” he smiles a little, glancing up at me with one eye. I take the seat next to him on the cold bench. 

“I’m jealous, I freeze all the time. Bet you’re thriving in that cold dungeon they’re keeping us in,” I say, a little awkwardly. 

“It isn’t a dungeon,” he blurts out, his fingers brushing over the stubble that’s started to grow in over his lip and chin. I always loved him with a mustache…

“What? How do you know?”

“Did you see the fire extinguisher I pointed out to you? We passed it three times,” he says. 

“I–I’m not understanding…”

He turns slightly and glances at the guards around us, stopping speaking as they pass by. “These buildings aren’t that big… not big enough for us to have gone up and down four flights of stairs and down the exact same hallway three times. Either that guy was lost, or they were trying to confuse us on how to get out of here.”

“Oh…” I say, all of it actually making sense as I look at the building, only two stories high. “Why did they…”

“I paid attention to where we were walking, because I want to know where in the fuck I need to go when I bust out of this place, even if I’m in the dark,” he growls quietly, crossing his arms. 

“Bust out?! Jake, you can’t–”

“Yes the fuck I can,” he says, his eyes cutting to me sharply. I completely lose my breath, he is still so…

His jaw clenches as he keeps eye contact with me for just a second too long. “I think they were trying to tire out your grandfather, too,” he says. 

My heart falls. “Why, what do you mean?”

I watch his jaw clench again as he looks right ahead of us, his focused stare on the red brick of the building. “Jake! What are you talking about?” I press as I feel myself grow anxious. 

He turns to me, his face extremely close as he leans in, his eyes darting behind me to see if any of the guards are nearby. “They’re taking him.”

I feel the blood drain from my body. No… No. “They’re what? How do you know? What do you mean?!” I blab, almost too loudly. His fingers drift up to barely drift across my lips, just as they had done when he shut me up the first time. 

“Shh, you don’t know how to keep your voice down, do you?” he says, and he’s serious. For the second time in a week, Jake Kiszka has touched my lips. But, I can think about that later. His head swishes around nonchalantly as he whispers. “I have intel that they’re taking him, soon. The weakest and the oldest of the groups. It isn’t good, Y/N.”

“Wait wait, groups? There’s more of us? What in the–” I’m losing my breath, I’m so confused. “Where are they taking him? What for?” I whisper, already full of nerves and worry. 

“There are more of us. They keep us in small groups so we don’t spread gossip or information. They call them ‘pods’, and I have reason to believe that my family is in this very same building,” he explains. Just then, one of the guards walks right in front of us, giving Jake what looks to be the tiniest nod, his neck crooking ever so slightly down. 

…What? I watch as the guard’s finger slides off the trigger of his gun as he hangs closely nearby us. To my surprise, Jake keeps talking. 

“They are planning on taking your Paps, and uh,” he swallows. “What they do isn’t good, Y/N, I think they– I think they run some kind of tests on them…” 

I feel a rage I’ve never felt before boiling up in my veins. I want to lash out, I want to scream, I want to wage war on anyone who dares lay a finger on my grandfather. 

“Tests?” I ask, clipped, “What kind of tests?”

Jake swallows, keeping his eyes on the guard beside us. “Experiments.”

“Fuck…” I breathe. “No, they can’t, for what? He hasn’t done anything.. He–”

“He’s old, Y/N, his time is limited,” he says, and I watch as he struggles to explain it to me. Nothing is making sense… what in the hell is even happening? 

I’ve read plenty of books in my past that detail fictional apocalypses… the end of days in some other made-up world, but never did I think I would find myself in one, living day to day and having to think of ways to protect my family. Never.

“I won’t let them, I’ve got to do something…” I fluster, trying to stand from my place to go and be with Paps on the other side of the courtyard. Suddenly, I don’t want him out of my sight. If they’re going to take him, they’re going to take me. 

Jake’s hand is on my arm, stopping me from going anywhere. “Wait, listen. Don’t you want to know why they’re taking him, the oldest and the weakest?”

“Yes, but… you saw Paps in there, he kept up with us as we walked, he isn’t weak–”

“Exactly,” Jake says, “which makes me think we have some time.” I’m rendered speechless, the weight of everything falling over me as I’m enveloped with overwhelming worry. I look to the guard again as Jake goes on with a speech that he should be keeping quiet, but he isn’t.

“We’re immune, Y/N, from the rash. All of us, that’s why we’re here. They’re collecting us,” he says, no longer caring of the tone of his voice being loud enough for anyone to hear. I keep my eyes on the guard. 

“In the past few days, I’ve learned more than I ever thought could be possible, found out more information than I even have time to explain to you right now…”

“Try, Jake, please, I’m so lost…” I plead, my eyes never leaving the guard as Jake’s chin is almost rested on my shoulder, his lips close to my ear. I’m nearly shuddering at his proximity, but I have to force it away. The emotions running through me right now are almost too much to bear. 

“We are a part of something much, much bigger than us. Something that we can’t even fathom. You weren’t that far off when you said that those things that captured you didn’t feel human, it’s because they’re not. The world as we know it is trying to push us off, kill us with the monster that we created, but some of us, we are immune to that sickness. You, me, your Paps… all of us can’t be infected by technology. So they came and gathered us here to wait while the rest of us are collected, so that we can continue on with mankind.”

I’m speechless again as I let his words sink in. Nothing makes sense, everything is so far off base, I can hardly form a thought. 

Continue on with…mankind?

“There’s so much more to explain, and I will, later, but our connection to this is much, much deeper than the people that we’re locked in here with. And I think we are going to have to pay for it…”

“Pay?” I ask. “Why us, and not them?”

He’s quiet again as the wind blows his hair across my face. I think I’m about to pass out as I feel him so close, but then I remember the heaviness of the words he’s saying, and not the feeling of his strands drifting across my face, as I’ve pictured them doing a million times before…

“You loved our music, right? Must have meant you had a love for our inspiration?” he asks, throwing me off. 

“Yeah, I guess…” I say, blinking as his strands catch in my eyelashes. 

“There were a bunch… who was your favorite? Who did you listen to most?” he asks. 

What the fuck? What does this matter?

“Uh, I dunno, Zeppelin, I guess?” 

“Good! Good… that’s good… so you are very familiar with them…” he breathes, confusing me even more. I pull away and meet his eyes, full of some type of new light. 

“...Yes…” I say through my teeth, the irony of the comparison almost making me laugh given their past with the band. 

He swallows hard as we hear a whistle being blown. 

‘The drums will shake the castle wall, the Ringwraiths ride in black, ride on

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before…’ he sings, and I instantly recognize the song. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

I nod harshly. “Yes, Evermore…?” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Inspired us a lot for–”

“Garden’s Gate. Yeah, I kinda always figured that…” I interrupt, wanting him to get along with it. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He bites his lips, his cheeks turning a deep pink. “Plant drew inspiration from Tolkien to write that song, right? Based the lyrics on a far-away world?” he goes on.

“Right, yeah…”

He licks his lips as he tries to formulate his words. “What if Evermore were real? What if it really exists somewhere out there, but only very little people know of its existence?”

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

“Would it be so far off to think that a song inspired us so heavily that it gave my brother confidence to write about a world that he had dreamt up? Had nightmares about? Decades-long nightmares about a world that we don’t believe exists, but only in our music…?” 

My eyes clench as I try and understand. 

“Jake, I’m…” I don’t really understand what he’s trying to say. “Josh had nightmares?”

He nods slowly. “Tons of them. About battles, ancient tales, warriors, characters who inhabited other worlds…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated onto mine. “About technology overtaking the world…” 

Oh. Oh my…god…

My face drops as my eyebrows raise. “What… how is that even…?”

I look to the guard again, watching as he nods at me, just as he had Jake. I hear the whistle again. 

“I have more to tell you, but first we have to save your grandfather…” he says. 

I feel panicked. “Is that man your intel?” I ask Jake as I turn to him and ask about the guard beside us. 

He nods, taking both of my hands in his. “Yes, he can be trusted. And so can his brother. There is so much more, Y/N, I just need to know that you trust me… do you trust me?”

Me? Is Jake Kiszka asking me to trust him?!

“Yeah, of course I do… I just–” The group is being rushed out as the whistle continues to be blown. I’m being pulled in the crowd away from Jake… but I watch as he mumbles to me. 

‘The magic runes are writ in gold

To bring the balance back, bring it back…’

Suddenly Paps’ hand is grasped in mine, and I feel the wind cut through my thin sweatshirt. I glance over to Jake again as he points to his arm once more, again telling me not to let anyone see the marks of my tattoos.

—-

We’re led back inside, taking the same route we did earlier, but backwards. I pay attention now, realizing that Jake was absolutely right. We pass the fire extinguisher three times, and go up and down the staircases an uneven amount of times it would take in this two-story building, even if it were the dungeon that they are keeping us in. 

My throat is dry as my emotions settle in, and I keep a keen eye on Paps, who I have let walk in front of me in our line. I need to tell him, but they will hear me. They will know. 

And Jake has intel?! What the fuck? How did he know he could trust that guard, we couldn’t even see his face! And he has a brother…?! All of this is still so gray to me, and I struggle with myself as I become a little internally irate that I don’t know every detail, like Jake does. I wish that we had more time to talk. More privacy. 

Jake is somewhere in the line behind me, and I try my best not to turn around and look at him. I need to look at him. I pull my sleeve down over my ink-covered arm, just like he’d asked, clutching the fabric tightly in my hand as we pace down yet another hallway. 

As they’re pulling us through a heavy metal door, two other guards are standing on the threshold. These guards aren’t like the ones who stay with us, they’re taller, thinner, and dressed differently than the ones we’re familiar with. They’re dressed in robes with hoods covering their heads, with heavy armored clothing underneath. They aren’t armed, but their faces are still covered. As the line passes between them, my stomach drops with a horrible feeling of dread. Something isn’t right…

These men aren’t guards, they’re the same beings that took us from the truck that night. 

“Paps!!” I scream, just as they grab onto either one of his arms, dragging him away from the line and through the door to another room. “Let him go!!!” I yell, my voice barely making the words out as I grab onto his waist, pulling him away from them. 

I catch his eyes, panicked and terrified as he fights against them. I feel Jake suddenly behind me, reaching out for Paps’ hands, as well. “Where are you taking him?!” Jake screams. “Don!”

“Y/N, no! Don’t let them…!” Paps yells back at me before a cloth is stretched over his mouth and eyes, and the heavy doors shut before us, leaving the whole group in a fury of madness. 

All of us, all of these people whom we don’t know but have spent the past few days locked up alongside us, all screaming and yelling and throwing their fists into the air to the guards who govern us. In this tiny landing in the curve of two stairwells, finally, all of us rise up against the guards in retaliation. 

“Let him go!”

“Bring him back!”

“Fuck you all, take us too!”

I hear the bunch of us erupt as my ears go deaf with adrenaline. I rush to the door, pushing my entire body weight against it to try and get through…to chase after where they had taken Paps. But it’s locked, barricaded with something heavy. 

I turn around again to the angry mob, the guards using force to hold them all back into the corner. They fight, they hit, they pull…I feel pride in the fact that maybe we aren’t all worthless in this place, after all... Watching on as we all finally stand up to them. 

But the thought is fleeting, as I watch Jake fall to the floor, blood pouring from the side of his face. I’m stunned, watching as it pools beside him. 

No…god, no. 

I rush to him, now, the mob of immunes now more infuriated than ever. There are only ten or twelve of us, all ranging in age and color and background…but they form a protective circle around Jake and I, layers of backs crowded above the two of us as I comfort Jake on the ground. 

Fearful tears are pooling in my eyes, and I feel the chaos above as I kneel beside him. They’re beating them, using force to drive through the protective wall to get to us, continuing on with trying to get to Jake. What had he done to piss them off? 

JAKE

I feel sharp pain near my temple and a dizziness overtaking my mind, but I also feel Y/N’s hand pressed tightly to my scalp and her presence beside me. I float in and out of consciousness, the noise of the chaos above me sounding more like a dull drone than individual yells. I’m being pushed and held down, but her hand never falters from trying to stop whatever blood is coming from the side of my head. I can taste metal in my mouth, and my ears are ringing so loudly that it hurts. There’s no doubt I will probably have a concussion. 

I look up at the blur above me, arms flailing, fists flying… all trying to protect me from…

Those beings. I know what they are…

They look different, though. They don’t look like the harmless hooded characters we emblazoned on the cover of our second EP, our mascots of sorts that adorned the front of so many posters and media. I remember how particular Josh was with coming up with the image of them, how cryptic he kept his descriptions. It all makes sense now… he was dreaming about the beings who exist between both realms. 

And apparently, they aren’t as nice as we had always envisioned them to be. 

Underneath their robes is a type of armor, chainmailled body suits made of heavy silver rings, all intertwined together and covering their chests like knights. Their faces can’t be seen, though I’m positive they keep them hidden under the heavy hood with a mask of sorts. They aren’t peaceful characters. What I always pictured as ancient representatives of our beloved world, our Infisonicosm, are nothing more than violent creatures who are apparently the ones sent to take drastic measures to protect the integrity of their realm. And capture my brothers and I.

It feels so out of sorts to even be thinking like this, believing what the First and Second told me about the parallel realm that we had written about. It’s ridiculous. It feels like insanity has overtaken my brain, believing in something so far-fetched that I actually want to laugh. 

…But all I want to do is run to my brothers and tell them that it is all fucking real. That Josh’s nightmares weren’t just dreams. That Danny was right all along, and nearly every single theory that was dreamt up by us alongside the ones who loved our music was, in fact, truth. 

“Jake!!!” I hear Y/N yell above the ruckus, trying her best to pull me to my feet. I’m dizzy, but I make it to my feet and stumble toward the stairs as she pulls me along, the angry mob behind me somehow holding off the creatures that haunted Josh’s nightmares. They need me. They want to hurt me, but they know I am valuable to their success. I have got to find my brothers, I have got to escape this place…

The two of us rush down the stairs, my feet carrying me quickly through the halls and dark staircases. Her hand is in mine, pulling me and keeping me on track as I stumble and bounce off the walls. “Stay with me, Jake… stay with me…” she beckons, and through my deafened ears, her voice is angelic.

My eyes stay half-closed as I run, keying in on her voice and the feeling of her hand pulling me along. I want to listen to her talk to me, I need the sound of it to keep me going… to keep me from succumbing to the dizziness. 

“Keep… Keep talking to me, Y/N,” I stammer out as we blast through another heavy metal door. I hear loud bangs and slams far behind us, and the pure fear of being caught again perpetuates my legs to keep moving. 

Suddenly I feel her hands on the sides of my head, her face so close I can feel her breath. “Jake, Jacob, look at me… open your eyes, we have got to keep running…” she pants, and the cadence of her encouragement lights a fire beneath me. “We’ve got to go, they’re chasing us…”

We take off again, the hallways seeming to become darker and darker the further along we go. I hear footsteps echoing behind us, and I know I’ve got to keep going, keep running. My heart is pounding as I try to stay alert. I know she has no idea where she’s going, but I’m just happy she is bringing me along. 

“Come on, Jake… come on…” she urges with a whisper, her hand squeezing at mine as she glances back at me every few seconds. It’s a miracle they haven’t caught up with us yet. I’m so out of breath I can hardly stand it, and the blood is dripping from the side of my head down onto my shoulder. But I hold her hand steady. 

The lights are flashing down here, and it seems as though we’ve run so far that we’ve reached a place that not many go. It’s almost too quiet, and only the sound of our heavy breathing is bouncing off the walls. We pause, looking around to gather ourselves as we take a second to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” she whispers, her hand shakily coming up to touch what I assume to be my head wound. I feel the immediate need to comfort her; the sound of the worry in her voice shoots right through my gut. 

“No, but I’m alright…” I breathe, barely hanging on to my consciousness. Thankfully, the adrenaline from running from those things has taken over and gotten me to safety. My chest is rattled and my limbs are sore, but still all I can think about is the terror that’s written all over Y/N’s face as she fights her instinct to want to assess me. “I’ll make it,” I reassure her.

“Your head, Jake, they– they hit you really hard…” her voice cracks, tears almost filling her eyes. I must look worse than I feel. The lights flash again and I suddenly notice a rumble under my feet.

“M’ okay, I prom- promise…” I stumble out, hanging on to my thoughts with everything in me. 

“Whoa,” she says, looking to the floor as she drops my hands. “What’s that?!”

The floor is vibrating, the walls around us beginning to make a loud humming noise as I start to feel uneasy again. The footsteps are still bounding toward us as we both scan around looking for another exit.

Suddenly, it’s as if the earth itself has decided to make every noise that has existed since the dawn of time- howling, cracking, lurching, growling… we both move our hands to cover our ears from the deafening sound, the shaking beneath our feet becoming more and more violent. 

It’s then that I know exactly what’s happening, another sinkhole. Right where we stand.

As the realization hits me, and the structure surrounding us begins to falter, I watch as the two creatures chasing us bound through the door we had just passed through, their arms outstretched and racing for us as we back away, hurling ourselves through the only other door that is available. 

The whole building begins to feel like it’s shaking, giving out from underneath us as I can feel the once-sturdy beams and foundation begin to give way. We have got to run. 

We race through the door, still hand in hand as we begin ascending the stairs now, trying to get out and to higher ground away from the buildings. I can’t explain the fear that’s rushing through my body; I’m not sure I’ve ever been as blatantly terrified for my own life as I am, right now. Fight or flight doesn’t even begin to compare to the fear of running from two things at once, both of them wanting to take your life for their own.

Running, bounding, skipping up stairs more quickly than I ever have before… somehow or another I’m managing, all because of the girl in front of me directing my motions, and not even thinking about leaving me behind. 

They’re on our tails, I can feel them… likely running to get to higher ground, too, at this point. The sound is still deafening in my ears as the walls begin cracking around us. We get to the top of a staircase and a bout of clarity hits me. I see one of those damned fire extinguishers hanging on the wall, an axe in the glass case with it.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!! Stop stop…” I say to her as I halt, our shoes sliding across the floor. I rip my shirt off, quickly wrapping the fabric around my hand. 

“What are you doing, Jake? We have to go!!” she yells, and I see the shadowed figures through the glass of the doors, bounding toward us. Without even thinking, I take my wrapped fist and break the glass, grabbing the axe that lies inside it. 

“Shut the doors shut the doors!” I yell at her, and she does, quickly leaning her back against them so that I can position the end of the axe through the door handles. Just as the head of the axe falls into place, the two figures hit the doors, trying as they might to pass through them. We step back, realizing our barrier is holding, and they cannot pass through it. I watch as Y/N holds both of her middle fingers up to them, and I hear their inhuman screams from the other side of the doors as they thrust their shoulders against them. 

Again we begin to run, flying up a set of stairs where I can see sunlight peeking through one of the windows. The building is shaking and moving below us, and my terror is at an all time high. Up we climb, my heart pounding as I watch her in front of me, turning to check on me every few seconds just as she had been. My heart flutters for just a split second at her concern for me, but it’s overtaken by the impending relief I feel for seeing daylight. 

“Go, Y/N! We’re almost there!” I yell, the ground below me vibrating so hard now that I nearly lose my balance and I put my shirt back on. “Run!!!” 

Finally we top the stairs and burst through the luckily unlocked door, rushing out into the cold brightness of the day. Yes, yes yes… I’ve never been happier to feel the cold rush of wind entering my lungs. My legs still carry me quickly over the now cracked concrete parking lot, around all of the old, dusty parked vehicles, and over barriers and fences as we run from the dreadful sound. I reach and grasp her hand in mine again as we hop over concrete barriers, onto what used to be the freeway.

A quick glance behind me shows me a sight I never thought I would see- the whole area we had just managed to run from, swallowed up by the earth. Fuck, Don…

I squeeze her hand as we rush again, both of us afraid that the fault line will continue to follow us. We run until we can’t anymore, until our legs are giving out on us, until we can hardly catch our breath. I finally stop, the dizziness beginning to reenter my mind as my adrenaline wears off. We’ve run about a half a mile, and we’re nearing what once was a string of stores. It’s abandoned, and shows no sign of any inhabitants. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she pants as we maneuver through the tall grasses that have grown through the parking lot. 

“I’m alright, I’ll make it…” I reassure her, watching her eyes light up when I say that I am okay. I squeeze her hand as we slow to a walk, feeling now that we might be safe.

We make our way to one of the old store fronts, what looks to be a convenience store. The windows are bashed out, and it has been looted, but I also notice something else on the cement below the door- fresh drops of blood. 

“Hey, Y/N,” I whisper, motioning to it. She looks to me as we both try and catch our breath, her brows furrowing in just as much confusion that’s probably written on my face too. I take the lead, the dizziness beginning to dissipate a little as I catch my breath, and my body calms. “Shh,” I motion with my finger over my lips, walking us through the old window as I follow the blood trail. 

We’re careful as we step over the glass shards and destroyed shelves, looking around to see if we could see anyone. Half of me thinks this is a horrible idea, and the other half wants to see if there is an injured individual who is hiding away, just as we are. I grab a pocketknife that once sat for sale on the shelf, wielding the blade in preparation.

There’s barely a breeze that floats through the old store, but I watch as the blood drops get smaller and smaller. They lead us to a door of what used to be the office of the manager of the store. Again, I hold my finger to my lips as I prepare to open it. This is such a bad idea…

My hand is shaking as I reach for the knob, second-guessing my decision with every ticking second. But Y/N doesn’t stop me, she must also know that any living thing we come in contact with is valuable, at this point. I grip the old gold knob and twist, my heart thrumming in my chest as I mentally prepare myself to fight. 

I shove the door open, and what I lay my eyes upon almost took all the breath from my lungs. 

“Sam?!”

“Oh my god, Jake!” He lurches toward me as I drop the knife to the ground, and the arms of my brother finally wrap around me in an unbelievably welcome embrace. 

Tears immediately fall from my eyes as we hold each other, and I can no longer feel the throbbing pain in my temple. “Is this real? Are you real?” I cry out, pounding my fist into his back in disbelief. 

“Yea, yea, I’m here!” Sam cries. “Fuck how did you–”

We pull away, meeting eyes as we fight to believe it. “There was another sink hole, we–we just managed to get out… we barely made it,” I explain, feeling out of breath again. “God, what– why are you here!? How did we find you?”

“We ran, we ran too! I used to come to this store sometimes, I dunno, it’s just where I ended up running to, then I was breaking the glass to get in and I sliced my hand open…” he says, running his hand along his dripping nose. “I heard you coming and we ran to hide…”

“We? Who’s we?!” I ask, looking around for someone else. 

“Jake? What the fuck?!” 

I turn to the voice behind me, recognizing it right off the bat as Daniel. I run to him, too, extending my arms around his torso as we embrace. “Oh my god…” he wails. “We didn’t think we’d find you, why are you here? How did you find us?!”

“Me and Y/N, we just ran…” I say, stepping back to look at her. She’s standing with her arms crossed, tears filling her eyes. “What’s wrong, are you okay?”

It only then hit me that she is watching the three of us reconvene, up close and personal. She looks like she’s in shock. 

“Yeah, I just…wow I never, I’m so glad you’re all okay…” she says through a thick smile. 

Immediately, Sam is walking to her through the pillaged rubble of the store. “Hey, I’m Sam, I’d shake your hand but, kinda bloody,” he says, extending his left hand instead. She sweetly takes it, her cheeks turning the brightest shade of pink.

“She knows who you are, Sam. She uh, followed us for years,” I explain. 

Sam glances at me with wide eyes. “No! You’re kidding!” 

I notice her cower back in shyness. “Yeah, sure did. Since uhm, since Strange Horizons,” she giggles. “All the way up until…”

The three of us stare at her as she collects her emotions. “I had tickets to the first show you had to cancel. Kind of uh, ironic, now…”

“Yeah, that one was a bit out of our hands,” Sam grunts through a laugh. I take notice of how long his beard has gotten, making me run my hand over my own rough, scruffy face. I haven’t even looked in a mirror in weeks.

“How in the hell did you two link up?” Danny interrupts my thoughts. 

“They had us in the same group, she and her grandfather,” I say, looking at her again. Her eyes hold mine for only a few seconds, fear and terror and sadness washing over her. She turns away as it looks as though she’s embarrassed for us to see her upset. 

I go to her as she turns, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, he probably made it out, they wouldn’t have just left him…he’s a strong and able bodied man, he—he’s probably rushing around trying to find you, right now,” I try to console her. 

“No he isn’t, Jake, you saw what happened to that building! There’s no way he made it!” she whisper-cries, covering her mouth. 

“Hey you don’t know that, Y/N. Those…things may have taken them with them when they ran. They know he was valuable. For all we know they got him out safely, you can’t think like that…” I say, and she bites her lips in trying to hold back her sobs. She holds herself as I hear Danny and Sam trying to make themselves invisible with pointless tasks behind us. She looks absolutely distraught. 

So I do the first thing that pops into my head, I take her into my best comforting embrace. “It’s alright, it’s okay to freak out for a second, if you need to…” I say. 

Her forehead rests on my shoulder as I feel her let it all go, her fear and sadness and worry that she’s been holding in for her grandfather. I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling right now. “Shh, it’s alright. We’ll find him, Y/N, I promise. We will find him.”

My promise holds less weight than I make it sound, but anything I can muster to try and qualm her sobs and calm her thoughts. I know how she feels, at least, being ripped apart from your family and forced into this terror. She relaxes into me for a short-lived few seconds, but as soon as she does, it’s as if the world around us disappears. I haven’t felt another human’s touch like this in weeks… the last time I really felt this connection was one morning before we left for the cabins, when my mom decided to break down on me a little, and I consoled her cries in the kitchen. 

It’s strange really, what the lack of that human connection can do to your psyche. You don’t really ever realize how much we thrive off of it, how much the chemicals in our brains rely on that rush of endorphins to keep us intact. I’ve missed it, I’ve missed a lot, honestly, but you don’t have time to think about your physical needs when you’re trying to survive. So I let her fall into me, and I into her, her hands gripping into the back of my shirt as her sobs shake her chest. I allow myself to squeeze her shoulders under mine, and rest my chin on top of her head, feeling more relaxed than I have in months. This feels…

“I’m sorry,” she says as she quickly pulls away and wipes her eyes. “Fuck, I shouldn’t be—“

“No no, it’s okay, don’t worry,” I say, the disconnection from her feeling more intense than I thought it would. Like my second of euphoria was snapped in half, right before the comedown. She dries it up quickly as she hides her face from me, and I decide to give her a second. I still feel a strange tingle shooting its way through my body, and I know for a fact just that small act of comfort will have me craving more later. 

“Jake, have you seen Josh anywhere? Heard from anyone else?” Sam says as he walks my way. 

I shake my head. “No, but I have some um, information…that I think could help us find everyone. But it isn’t the best,” I choke out as I watch their brows furrow. 

“What do you mean?” Danny asks, glancing back over to where Y/N is trying to collect herself.

I take a deep breath as I grab ahold of the old countertop beside me, still worn from years of use. My knuckles are red and busted, and my fingers look more frail than they have in my entire life. 

I’m honestly not even sure where to start with this…

“Daniel, before they took us, before everyone got separated, those thoughts you were having, those suspicions about our lyrics and our world…they’re um. They’re very, extremely real,” I try and begin to explain. “Unfortunately, I think… I think we’re in for a lot worse than we realize…”

"Wait, what? What do you mean they're real?" he asks, stepping toward me.

I take a short, chopped breath. "It exists, guys. That world we created, that we built from Josh's crazy fucking thoughts... We didn't invent it, it's real. It's in another realm that exists alongside ours. Josh um, Josh dreamt about it, for years. Everything he dreamed, he passed along into our music, visually, and conceptually. He was dreaming about it because it's not fictional. It's totally and completely a place that lives and breathes, just like we do."

It’s then that the four of us freeze, hearing loud footsteps trudging across the gravel-covered pavement in the lot outside. Three sets, at least. 

“Fuck,” Danny whispers as we all jump straight into panic again, rushing toward the back of the building to find a back door. 

We bust through, rushing to the heavily-wooded area behind the line of stores, straight to the unknown.

Again. Running…

Fear and anxiety grip me again as we rush up the hill, briars and sticks catching against my skin. Daniel and Sam are ahead of me as we scale up the steep incline, darting straight for any type of coverage we can find. I look back, realizing that it’s now my turn to find Y/N’s hand, and pull her along. 

No longer is my head throbbing, no longer is the dizziness wracking through my psyche. I’m not sure what switched, only fifteen minutes ago I was passing out as she pulled me through the hallways to safety, but here, now… I feel more clarity than ever. 

I find her hand, still damp from wiping her own tears, and I pull her to my side, giving her hand a tight squeeze as we run. We finally top the incline into a field full of trash and old machinery, abandoned vehicles and an old shed in the corner. The trees tower high above us, and I’m thankful that they had provided us with high boots as they held us in that damned building. We quickly trudge through the thick grass, and it dawns on me then how much nature has already begun to take over. How tall the bushes are, how much foliage grows on the trees.

It hits me then– it’s supposed to be winter… Why is everything so green?

I shake the disorienting thought from my head as I follow behind Danny and Sam, a quick and agile Y/N keeping right up with us. Darkness is about to fall, but my brothers and I are resourceful. Suddenly a brand new journey is awaiting us, a manhunt for the ages as our main concern is now finding Paps, and finding the rest of my family. 

As we run, I dig deep for gumption, for something steadfast to hold onto so that we can keep going. So we can work together to get through this, one step at a time. Our road ahead is going to be one of the most difficult we’ve navigated yet, but now I’ve got a team behind me. And though my other half is missing, I’ve got more drive than ever to find him, and stop them from taking us for our knowledge and twisting it for what we thought was imaginary, and using it to their own agenda.

I won’t be able to save the world, but damned if I’m not gonna try. 

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka@jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter @gretnavannfleet

[shadows-2ndshadow]

Gearld told him he was perfect and his sister told him he was pretty so he decided to make it everyone’s problem. Little Mr. Ultimate Lifeform.

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[misstycloud]

Yandere arranged fiancé x reader

You’re the sole daughter of the famous (l/n) family; big corporations, monopolisation and seemingly endless wealth are all words associated with your family. You have lived well your entire life and will for the rest of it, too. You have never been denied of anything, whether it be new clothes, makeup or whatever new hobby had caught your interest at the moment- except for the chance to take over the business after your father.

Unfortunately, despite how loving your family could be, they still held on to old traditions and ideas. One of which was that the large portion of the inheritance should go to the son. No matter how hard you try or how much you plead, you will never inherit the companies.

Your family doesn’t understand. They believe you should be content with your position- of course you know you’re incredibly privileged, but you hoped do be able to contribute to something instead of just sitting around forever. It made things meaningless. Did you only exist to become someone’s wife?

You barely remembered the first time you met him. You were around seven and he was ten. Despite your foggy recollection of what you two did that day, you did recall the expression on his face; emptiness and indifference. It was the day before that you heard the word fiancé for the first time. You didn’t know what it really meant, but thanks to your parents guidance, you understood it meant you two are going to be together for the rest of your lives.

Your parents had a couple whom they’ve been close friends for a long time, and it just so happened they had a son a little over your age. They were rich, just like you. So why not marry you two when you got older?

The first impression you had of him was of the oddnes he carried with him. He never smiled, never cried and barely spoke. He only lest he’d you with that blank look on his face. At least he played with you. Well, it depends on if it could be called playing, considering it was you dragging him around and demanding he humour you. Looking back at it, you feel bad for him having to endure the torture of a child’s endless energy. However, he didn’t complain at all and kept passing the ball after you continued sending it his way.

Whatever ‘I’m happy so I’m gonna make you happy with my happiness’- magic you had in your youth did eventually rub off on him. The change was evident in more ways in one. He started smiling- albeit they were small- and even gave the occasional chuckle. After that you became friends for real and it wasn’t forced as it’d felt in the beginning. This positive shift served as a strong motivator for both your parents’ willingness to have you wed. You supposed you would be rather devastated as well if your one and only child had come out with the emotional constipation your fiancé had, so you understood their encouragement. They treated you like some miracle cure.

You were content with your life and arrangement for years. That was until you got older and began actually thinking about your situation in detail. Your ambitions and needs also grew and you found yourself wishing to work to make your family greater; to put down the sweat and blood your ancestors had to give you the life you had now. But it was simply a dream, one that wouldn’t come true. You would never forget the confused- almost mocking-disbelief your mother and father showed you when you asked to inherit the company.

“Sweetie, why’d you ever be interested in such things?” Your mother asked. “Simply relax and enjoy the life you have now- the life your husband will continue to provide for you.”

You looked towards your father, hoping he would support you in any shape or form but he nodded in agreement with your mother.

“She’s right, dear.”

He was never a man of many words, however you a single sentence you knew the topic was done with.

While you had no doubt they loved you, they certainly didn’t understand you either. They couldn’t fathom why you weren’t content with your life and didn’t wish for your partner to take care of everything.

You spiraled afterwards. You could have everything and nothing at once. It was a strange feeling and it left you feeling angry. And that anger had to be directed at something: your fiancé. You began thinking he was the source of your misfortune. Because of him you would lose your freedom and have to live by his restrictions and rules for the rest of your life. Once you turn (y/o) you’ll have to marry him no matter your opinion. You would solely be his.

There was still time before your wedding and you’d be damned if you couldn’t live how you wanted until then. In an attempt of rebellion you moved out of your family’s estate and into an apartment of your own. (They agreed because they thought you desired to spend some alone time with your fiancé without them being near) You also stopped responding to his calls; he’d been calling every week to get updates on how things were going. You simply put your phone on silent mode whenever his name popped up. After the fifth time of calling, you blocked his number in great annoyance. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? You’re not ten anymore, you don’t have to talk every second of the day, ugh.

After a couple weeks with your new living conditions, another thought hit you. If you were going to be tied down to one man forever, why not meet as many as you can right now? And so you started going out more, inviting your friends to go clubbing and perhaps find someone interesting. More weeks followed, with a new guy in your apartment every month. Some stayed for the night only, while some preferred to stay a little longer. However, they all left as quickly as they’d come when you’d mention your engagement. Either they didn’t want to get tangled up in some lovers drama or they’d cuss you out for being a cheater. Were you one? Whatever, you thought, it doesn’t count if you don’t love each other- which you didn’t.

But one day, completely unforeseen by you, he swung by your new apartment. He’d been worried about you. Almost three months had gone by without a single word from you. He believed you might’ve gotten in an accident. Suddenly, you felt ashamed. It was strange, you hadn’t felt anything like it earlier. But now you did. You realised that your sweet, innocent fiancé wasn’t the root of your problems. You need to stop directing your anger at the wrong person. You explained everything, about how you felt and why you ignored him for so long.

You profusely apologised to him a million times when he found out about the others you’d been spending time with. You would never forget the look on his face that day when he found out. It was cold- colder than you’d ever seen him. Of course, he was like that to most, but never to you. In the end, he chose to forgive you. He told you that he understood and that it was fine; you weren’t wed yet and it was natural that you wanted to explore. You swore that you’d stop and make it up to him, while he said it wasn’t necessary, you hadn’t actually done anything wrong. You also swore that you’d be loyal to him and that you’d never do anything behind his back when you’re legally married. Thankfully, he appeared to believe you.

However, you wished you could’ve foreseen what would happen next. Nowhere in your mind, did you think you’d find yourself in your luxurious bathroom, staring at the two red lines of a pregnancy test. Eapecially when your fiancé didn’t have a part in it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

[moongreenlight]

Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

[strang3lov3]

Enjoy the Silence

You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position. (5.2k)

That’s Pedro’s bum can you tell I love ass

Tags- pillow humping, masturbation, getting caught in the act, some humiliation but Joel talks you through it, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, prone bone, softdom Joel, little bit of crying (good tears) creampie, let me know if there’s something I missed.

A/N- Thank you to @tightjeansjavi , @notjustjavierpena , and @noxturnalpascal for all of your encouragement on this I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes AND thank you my dear readers for being patient with me, I’ve been slacking on writing/uploading. I’d love it if you’d say hi to me, I’ve been missing you!! Hope you enjoy this one I’m glad to be back❤️🩷💜💙🩵

It’s too fucking loud tonight. You live with a group of single women in Jackson, all somewhere around your age, a few older, a few younger. You get along well with them, and they get along well with each other. Too well, perhaps. They’ve been talking for hours tonight. Hours. And they talk for hours most other nights too, especially now that the weather is starting to warm up. They’ve been making drinks and playing music, being rowdy. It’s past eleven at this point and they’re still going at it. 

You can’t sleep. The blankets are too warm, but without them you’re cold. You’ve flipped your pillow over what feels like hundreds of times.  It’s just one of those nights. Except every night is one of those nights, it seems. You tried touching yourself to fall asleep easier, but with no success. It’s not exactly the easiest getting off in such a full house. You’ve got privacy in your bedroom, sure. But the walls are thin and sound carries with such ease.

 God, does this suck. A lot of your problems would be solved if you could just get yourself off. You sit up in bed and stare out your window and into the window of the house next to yours. Joel’s window. His lights are off now, but earlier you had caught a glimpse of him getting out of his bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back, his skin shiny and damp. He’s so sexy, so thick. That’s when you moved your hand between your thighs as you watched him pick out clothes from his dresser, biting your lip and circling your clit frantically as you prayed for his towel to drop. It didn’t. It never does. You groaned quietly in disappointment as you watched Joel walk back to his bathroom and then come out moments later fully dressed, subsequently shutting off his lights and leaving his bedroom. For a moment, with your eyes and your thoughts focused on Joel, you were able to block out all the noise and focus on your pleasure. But then he left and the pleasure vanished. 

You’ve lived next to Joel for quite a while now. More often than not he’s grumpy, keeping mostly to himself and Ellie. He’d usually just glare at you and your roommates. He can be friendly with others, though. 

Once one evening, Joel had spent five minutes knocking at your door to complain about the noise. You saw it coming, you and your roommates had amassed quite a few dirty looks from him in the moments prior. You watched him through the window, glaring at your porch from his own. Your roommates were outside, talking and listening to an old but new-to-you CD. He wore a scowl and his arms were crossed at his chest when you finally opened the door. 

“You ladies are chatty,” he grumbled. “Your music’s hurtin’ my ears.”

“We can be chatty, yeah,” you replied, “But you’re kinda crotchety.”

Joel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m askin’ you politely to keep it down,” He turned to leave then, but you tapped the back of his leg with your foot, stopping him, “You could go inside, you know,” you taunted.

Joel turned back around slowly. He looked so big, so broad as he looked down at you. “So could you.”

“Hm,” you hummed. You weren’t really sure why you were arguing with Joel when really, you agreed with him. The CD player sounds tinny and hurts your own ears at times, you can’t imagine what it does to Joel’s damaged ears. And the girls were too loud, other people live around here. But you were annoyed at the way he came over to complain about the noise level when he doesn’t know half of it, how loud it gets. “Fine. I’ll get them to quiet down if you do something for me.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I’m doin’ ya favors now?”

“Something like that,” you said. 

“What do you want?” he asked through a sigh. 

“You’re right, they’re being too loud,” you explained, “You don’t know how loud it can be, actually. I’ll try to get them to quiet down if you let me get some peace and quiet.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, your house is usually pretty quiet,” you began. 

Joel nodded. “Mhm. And I like it that way.”

“And I’ll keep it that way,” you urged. “Please? My roommates are so loud, I can’t even hear myself–” 

“Yeah, I know. Come on,” Joel interrupted. “Let’s go inside, then. Talk to your girls tomorrow.”

Joel led you to his house, opened the door for you and brought you inside. He offered you a glass of water and told you to make yourself at home, so you sat quietly on his sofa. Joel sat on the loveseat next to you. He figured you’d have brought a book or something to busy yourself with, but when he looked up at you after a few moments, you had curled your legs into your chest, laying sideways on his couch. He laughed to himself quietly and laid a blanket over your body, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. You had never slept so peacefully. And that’s how the tradition began, Joel would let you come over to enjoy the quietness of his home. You never made good on his end of the deal, though. Your roommates stayed too loud, but it didn’t matter. You and Joel had found a system that worked for you both. 

Still staring at Joel’s window, you shift your attention towards the direction of Joel’s front door when you hear it slam shut. You watch him stroll away, probably off to drink with Tommy or something like that. 

Your core is still aching, a dull but constant ache. You’re thinking about Joel, unable to get the image of his slick body out of your mind. You’re thinking of the quietness of his house. Peace and quiet would be nice right about now. It’s never this late when you go over to Joel’s. You know you’re welcome over any time. Joel gave you a key to his home when you earned that privilege. But surely he didn’t have that open-door policy for what you’re thinking of using his quiet home for. He wouldn’t know though, right? 

Fuck it, you decide, climbing out of your bed and sliding on a pair of slippers. First grabbing Joel’s key from your nightstand, you exit your room and go down the stairs, going towards the back door where you walk past all of your roommates in the living room who don’t seem bothered or worried about what you’re up to this late at night. The chill of the air bites at your cheeks and your shoulders. You didn’t bring a jacket, but the distance from your back door to Joel’s isn’t a long one. 

You unlock his back door with your key and let yourself inside, scraping any dirt from your slippers on his doormat so as not to track it inside. It’s always quiet, but the silence is almost eerie. It makes you feel uneasy, doubly so because you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. But you’ll be quick. Joel won’t know, so no harm no foul. 

You scan the first floor, looking for a quiet, comfortable area. Joel’s home looks almost like TV in black and white the way it’s so dark right now. The first floor is no good, you’ll feel exposed. So you walk up his stairs, and your first instinct is to go to his guest room. You spend a lot of time there anyway, when you’re not napping on his couch you’re napping in that room. But he keeps it clean for you, pristine. The bed is made neatly and tailored specifically to his taste. You’d never be able to recreate that, he’d instantly become suspicious.

Across the hall is his own bedroom, not nearly as tidy as his guest room. A clothes pile on a chair, the shade of his lamp slightly off kilter. His bed is made up of crumpled sheets and blankets, the pillows indented from the weight of his head. Joel won’t know a thing. 

You tiptoe into his room, closing his door but the creak of its hinge cuts through the quiet air and startles you. Maybe it’s better to leave it untouched. You make your way quietly to his bed, first sitting on the edge, your feet dangling slightly in the air. You kick your feet a little, letting your slippers fall off. You feel so out of place here, so wrong. Like you’re invading his privacy, but you’re not. Not really. You’re not here to snoop or to do anything wrong, you’re just here to…well.

You lie back in his bed, his sheets are soft and worn, cold on the back of your legs. Their scent fills your nostrils, they smell like Joel. Like soap and his musk, slightly sweaty. It’s almost like he’s here with you. Spreading your legs and dipping your hand beneath your pajama bottoms, your mind starts to wander. Tracing your clit with your fingers, your brain is flooded with flashes of Joel. At first, it’s images of his neck, his forearms, his hands, all the veins protruding, muscles flexing. You’re circling your clit faster as you imagine he’s here with you, that it’s not his bed you’re lying against but instead his chest, he’s holding your knees apart as he nudges your head to the side with his nose, your neck exposed for him to lick and kiss and nip as you tease your cunt. You come quickly and your fantasy drifts from you. You make yourself come once more before you adjust the bedsheets slightly, put your slippers on and leave. Joel’s bedroom looks just as he left it. 

You watched him, learned his evening schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s out on evening patrol, he doesn’t come home until the early morning. Those are the nights you sneak over to his house. As time goes on, you learn that you can be less careful. You don’t bother wiping your shoes, you don’t tiptoe like you used to. You’ll push the bedroom door open wide when Joel leaves it halfway shut. When you leave, you don’t bother laying the sheets back in the way Joel has them crumpled.

Joel notices.

You still come over for your usual quiet time, and Joel studies you. He’s begun sitting close to you, trying to memorize the smell of your shampoo on your hair. He thinks he smells it on his pillow. And the scent of your body, your soap and your perfume. He thinks he can smell it on his sheets. He thinks he can smell you on his sheets. 

You stay too long in his bed one Thursday night, startled when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the distance. You bolt out of his bed, going down his stairs both as quickly and as quietly as you can. You shouldn’t have been so ballsy. Joel thinks he hears the door close but doesn’t pay it much mind as he undresses and gets into bed, and he doesn’t even notice you running back to your house from his window. What he does notice, however, is the way his bed feels warm as he lays down. He runs his hand along the length of his bed, the sheets feel cool on the opposite side. When he flips on his side, his nose nudges against something damp on his pillow. That’s when he sees your light flickering on from across the distance between your two windows, he sits up in bed to get a closer look at you. He watches your chest heaving like you’re out of breath, perhaps from sprinting across his lawn. He watches you then fall on your bed, he sees both of your knees hike up and spread apart. That’s when he puts two and two together. Suspicions confirmed.

He always knew you were trouble. And now he knows what you’ve been up to, trespassing to touch yourself in his home, in his bed, without him. You goddamn deviant. He’s gonna catch you in the act. 

-

Four whole days go by, which gives Joel enough time to find someone to cover his evening patrol. It’s Tuesday night and he’s got his bedroom lights off so you can’t see him watching you from his window. You look antsy, pacing back and forth across your room, frequently checking your window to see if he’s left yet. When Joel does leave his home, he’s conscious to not look behind himself at your window, to see if your light turns off. He doesn’t want you to know that he knows. He doesn’t look to see if you’re sneaking through his lawn. Instead, he keeps walking, giving you ample time to really screw yourself. When he feels a sufficient amount of time has passed, he turns back around and walks home. He enters his front door slowly and quietly, like a ghost. He takes careful steps through his living room, up his stairs. When he reaches his room, he pushes the door open wider and leans against the frame, listening to your breathy moans, watching you grind on his pillow in the low light of his room. You’re gripping his headboard as you whine, you’re even wearing one of his dirty flannels. Sick puppy. 

“Joel,” you moan to yourself. “Joel, oh god–” the lights turn on and you turn your head to see Joel leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed.

“Joel!”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel murmurs. “Caughtcha, didn’t I?” Any words you could possibly think of are caught in your throat. You feel hot, itchy. Joel notices the key he gave you sitting on his dresser and spins it around his finger. “Wasn’t what I had in mind when we set up our little arrangement.”

“I was– I wasn’t–” you shift uncomfortably as Joel puts the key down. 

He shuts his door and approaches you on his bed, first examining his headboard. He hums when he sees there’s little indents in the wood from your fingernails, marks on the wall behind the headboard. It all makes sense now. When Joel sits next to you on his bed, you quickly slide your ass off of his pillow and away from him. He’s quicker, tugging your– his flannel in the opposite direction, forcing you back to your place. “Nuh-uh,” he chides. “You stay right there.”

The air feels thick and Joel’s eyes are dark, almost inky black. You can hardly look at him, his intense gaze making you squirm. So instead you look down, where he plays with the fabric of his flannel, admiring the way it dances on your thighs with his touch. He lets a silence hang heavily between you both as he presses his lips in a thin line, waiting for you to explain yourself. You don’t. You can’t. You feel so exposed, so ashamed of yourself.

“Whatcha been doin’ to my pillow?” he finally asks. His voice is low, quiet and deep. He’s met with more silence. “Makin’ a mess, s’what. Up to no good, hm?” More silence as you adjust his flannel over your body, protecting your modesty. “I’m askin’ you a question,” he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact. 

“Yeah,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your face is hot, your waterline is brimmed thick with tears, a few spilling over. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Ohhh, I know,” Joel coos, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “M’not tryin’ to embarrass ya, darlin’. S’human nature.” You can’t even begin to think of a way to get out of this situation. “S’that pillow ‘sposed to be me?”

“Yes.” 

“Figures,” Joel mumbles. “Makin’ me blush,” he taunts, tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. His touch makes your tummy flutter, it feels misleading. Like you’re enjoying it almost, though you shouldn’t be. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says. “Didn’t need to make believe with my pillow. Get yourself into all this trouble.” You can’t quite get a read on what his angle is here. Still aroused and you feel nervous, small, guilty – awaiting punishment of some sort. 

 You’re defeated. All you can do is nod in understanding. You find the bravery to meet his eyes, his gaze still dark and intense, perhaps even hungry. He walks his fingers up the length of your thigh, noticing how you twitch as he nears your center. “I’ll go easy on ya f’ya tell me the truth. How long you been doin’ this, sweetheart?”

You are in trouble. He’ll go easy on you if you tell him the truth. “I dunno,” you whisper.

“Sure you do.” 

 You don’t even know. A few weeks, a month maybe. You shrug. 

“Think you wanna be honest with me,” Joel advises, provoking you slightly. Nothing from you. “S’alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just means you’re gonna finish the job.” 

“What?”

“You’re gonna finish what you started,” he says. “And this time I’m gonna stay right here and watch.”

Your heart drops. You search Joel’s eyes, looking for some sort of indication that he’s fucking with you. You’re not sure that you’re capable of this. Sex and masturbation are already two different animals. Getting off in front of the man you fantasize about in his bed? Where would you even begin?

“You had the balls to start this, you’re gonna finish it. Come on sweetheart, show me how you do it,” Joel nods, gesturing for you to begin. When you don’t, Joel scoots even closer to you on the bed. “So shy, aren’t you?” He turns his body toward you slightly, outstretching an arm across your body and then holds your hip in his strong hand. He begins to guide your movement, encouraging you to rock back and forth on his pillow. But you’re stiff in his hold. “Come on now,” he encourages, “Y’can even hold my hand f’ya want.”

Joel holds his free hand out to you, still moving your hip with the other. He knows how vulnerable and exposed you feel right now. Taking his hand, your other gripping the headboard once more, you still can’t meet his eyes, Instead you squeeze them shut, your hips following the guidance of his grip. 

“Why you bein’ quiet?” he asks, “Need to hear ya.”

Complying with his request, you let out a shaky and small moan. More of a whisper, really. He hums in approval, encouraging you to be louder. You’re starting to build a pace and find your courage, at least a little. 

When you let out a real moan, a real sound of pleasure, Joel squeezes your hip. “Ohh, there it is. Good girl,” he coos, “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

It’s instantaneous, the way his praise goes right to your core. You’re rocking your hips faster now, adjusting yourself to find a better angle. You can feel your own slick beneath you on the fabric of Joel’s pillow, wetting your thighs and your ass. His hand grips your own firmly, holding you steady, reminding you that he’s here with you.

Joel smirks as you move on your own accord. He lets go of your hip to explore your stomach and your torso with his palms, his fingertips dancing along the underside of your breasts. He sits up to get closer to you, tweaking one of your nipples beneath his fingers and sucking the other into his mouth, licking and swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, tugging the strands as you ride his pillow. 

This is all he wanted. To watch you leave your mark on his clothes, in his bed, on his walls. He pulls away from you and watches you in admiration, moaning softly when he finally presses his palm against his bulge. He undoes his jeans and pushes both them and his boxers down his thighs, then removes his shirt. He grips his cock tightly, biting down on his moans as he gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He thinks you’re getting close now. Your hips are beginning to stutter in their movements, you’re getting quiet now like you’re concentrating on your pleasure, your body’s tensing up. He’s been so focused on you, he’s forgotten all about the fact that this is supposed to be your punishment for trespassing. 

Fuck. The punishment. 

Joel doesn’t have a clue how he’ll punish you as he lurches forward, kneels behind you and pulls your arms from the headboard. He hopes he’ll find the answer along the way. All he knows is that you’re not coming, not yet. Especially not by your own doing. Yeah, that’ll work, he thinks. He’ll bring you to the brink of orgasm, make you beg and apologize before finally letting you come. Maybe he’ll not even let you come, he’ll see how he’s feeling as time progresses 

Joel holds your arms behind your back in one hand and you yelp in surprise, then he adjusts his placement and pulls you back by your legs until you’re prone on his bed. “Up, sweetheart, up,” he mumbles, lifting your hips and pulling his pillow back, propping your ass up for him. The dampness of your arousal on his pillow feels warm and sticky against your tummy.

He palms your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before parting your cheeks with his thumbs. He runs a single digit through your soft, slick folds, humming as you tremble beneath his touch. You’re so wet. “What a fuckin’ mess,” he purrs, pressing his middle finger against your entrance, circling it before pushing inside. You keen into his touch, arching your back for him. 

“Joel,” you whine as he pulls his finger out. 

“Do you know what a mess you made?” He doesn’t bother letting you attempt to respond, you’re way too addled for his touch to answer his question coherently. Joel dips his tongue between your sensitive folds, replacing his fingers. Just like how he touched you moments prior, he traces your entrance with a pointed tongue before dipping it into your heat. Your arousal is like honey, so thick and sweet on his lips. 

He tastes you, savors you as he kisses your cunt. He’s lapping through your slick folds, his tongue parting all of your sensitive flesh, sensitive just for him. You can feel the wiry hairs of his beard tease your clit before he dips his lower, circling and flicking your bud with the muscle. He sucks it between his lips, making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. “Joel, oh my god.”

Your fantasies of Joel were never like this, never so indulgent. He’s sucking at your clit, then licking, nipping at your folds, before focusing his attention back to that bud. You’re moaning, pushing your ass back and grinding against his mouth, feeling his aquiline nose tease your hole. He’s buried between your most private place, his tongue flicking and swirling with such fervor. You’re biting into his sheets and seeing stars when he enters you with his fingers once more, curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. 

You’re bucking against his face, your slick soaking his fingers to the knuckle, spilling into his palm. His fingers’ movements don’t falter as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, trailing kisses over the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“I’m so close,” you answer through a gasp. 

Joel kisses up your ass cheek, “How many times did you make yourself come in my bed?”

“Twice,” you reply. You’ll answer any question he asks now.

“Only twice?”

“Tonight.”

“Ohh,” Joel says. “Twice tonight. How ‘bout in total?” 

You don’t know the answer. Of course you don’t. He’s doing the math in his head as he fingers you. He’s thinking at least twice a night, twice a week. This venture of yours has probably been taking place over a couple of weeks. So that’s…more than enough, he decides. “Yeah, ‘course you don’t know. S’lot though, hm?” He lifts his face to watch you nod. “In that case, m’not sure that you need to come again.”

“I do,” you whine, “I need it, Joel.” 

“You want it–” Joel pulls his hand from your core and you cry at the loss. God, you wish his mouth was back there. “You be good to me and I’ll consider it.”

Joel pumps his cock momentarily behind you before he nudges a knee between your thighs. “Wider,” he instructs, leaning over you from behind.  He brackets your thighs with his own, one hand on your waist as he notches the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t yet push all the way in, though. Instead, he waits as you squirm and arch your back for him, trying to take more than what he’s giving you. You whine in frustration. “Easy, now,” he warns. “Should ask permission. Nicely.”

“Please, Joel,” you say, “Fuck me.”

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises, working into your body. You sigh in satisfaction as he buries himself in you fully, his tuft of coarse curls scratching against the skin of your ass. “Wasn’t so hard, hm?”

Joel tightens his grip on your hips, denting his nails into your skin like how you did to his headboard. His thumbs are pressed firmly into your lower back as he begins to roll his hips into you. The way he thrusts so languidly into you makes your head fuzzy, the only thought you can focus on being the sensation of his thick cock parting your insides. He’s fucking you steadily now, and you can feel the skin of his thick, pillowy tummy caressing your back with every stroke. Fuck, how good he feels.

He fucks you apart, setting a steady rhythm. Joel knows how much you needed him, how much you wanted him before now. How you love it, how it’s nothing but pure pleasure that makes up your whimpers and gasps and the tears on your cheek. He leans lower, covering your hand with his own and intertwining his fingers between yours. You shiver as he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, then licks and kisses your ear, his mustache tickling your skin as his nose nudges your temple gently. He takes a moment to kiss away your tears and rests his arm around the crown of your head, caressing your hair before fucking you wildly.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

“So good,” you choke out. 

You can feel Joel’s grin against the shell of your ear. “Just how you imagined when you were fuckin’ yourself on my pillow, hm?” he purrs.

“Better,” your answer is honest. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “Good answer, sweetheart.” 

He curls one of his forearms beneath your bicep, reaching for your breast and tweaking, pinching you as he wraps his other arm around you, searching for your pussy with his hand. He finds your sensitive bundle of nerves and draws lazy patterns over it, teasing you. You’re so wet. So slick, your pussy gushing with each stroke of his cock deep inside you. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are lewd, obscene as he pounds his hips against your body. He’s grunting, gasping in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. 

You’re twitching and bucking your hips, chasing that tightness beginning to build in your tummy. “Easy,” he murmurs. “Let me take my time with you.” He knows how desperate you are to come, but Joel makes you wait a little longer, feel the burn some more.

You’re whining and squirming as Joel fucks you, his face buried against your neck the hair on his cheeks scratch you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin as you let out your breathy little moans. In every inch of his body, he feels it–that power he holds, knowing you’re aching to come on his cock and it’s all because of him, it’s all for him.

His cock is beginning to twitch and he’s feeling that warm, sticky feeling in his gut and deep in his balls, he’s not lasting much longer now. He fucks you harder. “What about now, huh?” he grunts, “Should I let you come now?”

“Yeah,” you moan. “Yes. Let me, let me.”

“Then ask me,” he whispers, momentarily slowing his pace. He draws in and out of you slowly as he speaks, “S’all I wanted you to do, just ask me.” 

“Please let me come, Joel,” you ask.

“Good girl,” He brings his hand to your face, shoving his fingers past your lips. You know what he wants, no need for his instruction. You’re moaning, sucking on the digits as he fucks you, the motion of his thrusts grinding your clit into his warm palm. Joel feels you begin to tense up as you choke on his fingers. “There you go, let go, let go f’me. You’re alright,” he coos. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

You’re stiffening underneath him, eyes screwing shut as you let yourself go. You come on his cock and against the calloused palm of his hand, ecstasy washing over you in thick, electrifying waves. Joel watches your face closely, he memorizes your cries of pleasure and how you convulse beneath him. He’s fucking wrecked you. 

You’re gurgling on Joel’s fingers that are still in his mouth as he slides his other hand away from your cunt in favor of resting it up high by your head. It’s his turn for release now. He’s without a thought when his hips begin to stutter as they lose their rhythm, the frenetic slamming of his body against yours indicating his closeness. He lets out a symphony of grunts and moans into your ear as he comes inside you, painting your insides with his spend, milking himself entirely. You take it all, everything he gives you, whining at the overstimulation and the way his release makes you feel so warm and full. Your cunt is slippery with his come as his thrusts begin to slow, slow some more until he stills inside you completely, resting on top of you. With a groan, he pulls out to admire his work, to watch how your combined arousal spills on his sheets. He uses two fingers to push some of his escaped come back inside you. 

You stay laying on your tummy as you cross your forearms to use as a pillow to rest your head. Joel meets you on his bed, also laying on his tummy. You hadn’t even realized he undressed himself. 

He reaches over to caress your cheek, then your flannel-covered back. “Nice touch,” he murmurs. “S’pretty on you.”

“Smells like you,” you confess quietly. “Turns me on.”

Joel makes an amused face as he nods. His eyes are sparkly but sleepy and your cheeks are warm, you bite down on a shy and embarrassed smile. He smirks at that.  “So bashful,” he purrs. “You’re welcome to use my home and wear my clothes for your dirty work any time you like,” he says. “Just invite me every now and then.”

-

If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment, rb, or send me an ask, tell me your thoughts. Your kind words and engagement keep me motivated to write

[wileys-russo]

if you need any leila prompts here’s one 💋

after doing long distance for a while , reader finally moves to england with leila and a few days after they’ve settled have leila come home from training to reader cooking and being all domestic making leila go crazy over how housewifey she is

heart and home II l.ouahabi

things had been hard when leila was presented with a near impossible choice, but with you in her corner and promising no matter what you'd support her, it made it the tiniest sliver easier.

eventually when the days ticked down to hours and leila couldn't put off a decision any longer you'd pushed her to call her agent, placing the phone in her hand and a soft kiss to her lips before leaving her to it.

you yourself had known what her decision would be perhaps even before leila had. she adored living and playing in barcelona but with newer, younger talents chomping at her heels and baring down her neck you knew she was after a new challenge with some guaranteed minutes.

so when the brunette trudged into the room with tear tracks down her cheeks you'd melted, opening your arms and moving your computer off your knees as your girlfriend had collapsed into you with a dry sob.

you promised quietly over and over that you knew this hurt but that nothing worth doing was ever easy, and you'd be by her side every step of the way.

when it came time for leila to pack up and move across an ocean to manchester it broke you both that you couldn't follow right away, with loose ends of your own to tie up you'd need to stay still in spain for now before you could make your own move to england to be with her.

her new club at least had been incredibly accommodating, helping the spaniard find a place of her own through copious phone calls, face times and zoom meetings, so that when the day came for her to move she at least knew where she was going.

that hadn't made the final goodbye any easier, leila all but locking you up to stop you from coming with her to the airport as she thought seeing your face left behind she'd not even be able to get on the plane at all.

but you assured her it wasn't even a goodbye, and in a couple of months you'd be right there with her and nothing in the entire world was going to stop that.

but despite that there was always the viciously anxious voice in the back of leila's head that told her you'd realize life was better without her there and never make the move, though you were always just a call away to assure her that wasn't the case.

you'd been slowly sending your own things over to england in small batches as you hurried to tie up the loose ends of your life in spain, both nervous and excited to move out of the country you'd never left before and start a new adventure.

you and your girlfriend facetimed daily and you were always teasing leila for getting in trouble at training for texting you, but with the time zones it wasn't easy and some days you'd force yourself to stay up a few hours more than was best and you'd be almost falling asleep at work the next morning.

but still there was no regrets, leila and you loved one another fiercly and deeply and it was a love that extended beyond the physical distance you were apart from one another.

you'd flown over a few times on weekends, able to at least see her play her first minutes for her new club and helping her to furnish and organize your soon to be shared apartment.

finally with things seemingly all tied up in spain, a little earlier than you expected, and with leila positively miserable that she hadn't seen you in almost three weeks now, you formulated a little surprise.

you were supposed to fly in on Monday, but with a few sneaky phone calls and a lot of little white lies you'd managed to swap it to one on Thursday, a whole four days early, and leila was none the wiser.

practically all of your belongings were in manchester now bar the two suitcases you'd been living out of in your best friends spare room for the last month, so with those packed, goodbyes said and your boarding pass printed you embarked on the next stage of your life.

you had a man on the ground in the form of vicky losada, who you knew had been a large source of support for leila in the adjustment despite the older girl sharing with both of you that she intended to leave the club in the coming months.

so with vicky helping you time everything you'd made sure you'd be able to arrive and get to the apartment in time before leila was due to return home from training, vicky set to keep her busy for as long as she could.

you couldn't help but chuckle at the state of the apartment itself once you arrived and let yourself in with the spare key hidden in a fake rock leila was convinced was the ultimate dupe, normally your girlfriend was a stickler for cleanliness and organization, but clearly today that hadn't been the case.

having been up and on the phone to leila last night you knew she'd forced herself to stay up much later than she should have and it was obvious in the way her belongings lay scattered around like it was a room frozen in time.

she'd clearly woken up late, hauled ass to get ready and left the carnage involved behind to be worried about later tonight once she got home, but you were determined she return not only to your surprise but a clean and organized home.

so with an amused smile and hunting around in your backpack for your airpods, you left your suitcases in the bedroom to be dealt with later and got to work.

~

leila exhaled deeply as she parked up in the driveway after an excruciatingly long day, forehead thumping tiredly against the top of her steering wheel once the engine cut off.

she'd slept through her alarm but awoke to the calls from her teammates and staff following up her absence, supposed to have been up at the crack of dawn for fitness testing.

then after the testing she'd trained this morning and this afternoon with the team, and then been dragged out for 'bonding time' with several of the girls and still finding her feet she knew it was rude to say no no matter how much her body was itching to get home.

to make matters worse she knew you had your final day in the office at your old job, something she assumed would keep you preoccupied with goodbyes, handovers, polite small talk, but that didn't mean it hurt any less when her texts went unread and unanswered bar a few small responses here and there.

the lack of sleep was leila's own fault and she knew that but still the spaniard could almost feel her heartbeat in her eyes and had seriously considered pulling over with how bleary her vision was driving home.

on top of that leila knew she had an insane list of life admin awaiting her once she stepped through her front door. she had a sink full of dishes to be washed, baskets of dirty laundry to be done as well as a mountain of clean clothes to be put away.

her bedroom looked like a bomb went off, clothes were scattered left right and centre from her early morning toss through her wardorbe to try and find her training gear. which of course she'd eventually sought out in her dirty washing basket, having to drown herself in perfume just to get by.

the entire house needed vacuuming and tidying and her bathroom was crying out in desperation for a deep clean, not to mention there was dinner to be cooked and leila knew as much as she'd love nothing more than to add another box of takeaway onto the growing pile in her garbage bin she had a mid season diet to stick to.

and to add yet another thorn in her side, you, her refuge and respite from the insanity of everything going on, were in another country and though leila knew you'd call once you got home, it wasn't the same.

leila was endlessly proud of you and immensely grateful that when she'd even started to think about transferring you were nothing but supportive.

leila knew that in less than a week all of this would be in the past, you'd finally make the move and the two of you would be together again and that safety net you strung along with you would be there to catch leila whenever she needed it.

but the fact it was so close also just made it seem so far.

so still leila couldn't stop herself from selfishly wish you were here, wanting to just melt into you as you whispered sweet nothings in her ear, showering her in the warmth and love that you forever and always indulged her with.

with a sharp inhale leila pulled her head off the steering wheel and unbuckled herself, mentally preparing for what was likely to be a grueling evening as she grabbed her kit bag from the back, which was filled with even more dirty laundry for the ever growing collection she was complaining as the days passed.

locking her car behind her leila trudged herself up the driveway, feet dragging along the cement as if weighed down by anchors until she eventually made it to the front door.

the woman had to withhold the urge to launch her keys across the front yard as she dropped them twice trying to fumble around and unlock the door, eventually shoving them in with a pained sigh, shouldering it open and stepping over the threshhold.

the footballer closed the door behind her and adjusted her kit bag on her shoulder, kicking off her trainers and frowning as she realised the once messy cubby of shoes was neatly organised, all stacked up neatly and in colour order.

the next thing that peaked her suspicion was the smell of lavender drifting around the house, as well as the music she now noticed coming from down the hall. following her nose leila's eyes widened in shock as she slowly took in the spotless living room.

"hola mi amor." leila let out a shriek and spun around, dropping her bag to the ground as you watched on with an amused smile, cocking your head to the side as the girl opened and closed her mouth in shock.

"stop that ouahabi, you look like a fish." you quipped teasingly, taking a step closer toward her as leila firmly shook her head. "you are supposed to be in barcelona." she managed to spit out, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening right now.

"am i? oh well let me go and book another flight back amor and i will-" your words were cut off short as your girlfriend quickly closed the distance between you and engulfed you in a bone crushing hug.

you couldn't help but laugh as she picked you up off your feet, gripping you so tight you could swear you might have bruises from how her fingertips dug themselves into your skin as she held your body close to her own.

"what are you doing here? you said monday!" leila gently placed you back down and pressed her forehead against yours. "surprise?" you laughed again, squealing as once more your girlfriend tackled you into a hug, this time taking the two of you down to the floor.

"lei!" you groaned with a slight chuckle, thankful for the shaggy carpet which cushioned the fall that leila herself had insisted was 'too much'.

"what are you doing here?" your girlfriend repeated with a cheshire like grin, pushing herself up to hover over you as you smiled softly up at her, thumb tracking the curvature of her jaw.

"like i said, surprise mi vida. i tied everything up a little earlier than expected and changed my flight, i maybe told you a couple of tiny tiny lies and...here i am." you made a small gap between your thumb and pointer finger making your girlfriend shake her head in disbelief.

"leila!" you managed to get out with a laugh as the spaniard dropped herself back on top of you, hands falling to cup your cheeks as her lips peppered kisses all over your face with small mwahs.

"you missed." you teased, tapping your lips as the defenders smile somehow grew even bigger and her head ducked to kiss you properly this time.

kissing leila still gave you the same butterflies as the very first time, where you'd headbutted one another in your haste and gone bright red, eventually locking lips with giggles and mumbled apologies as you found your groove.

"what are you doing here?" leila sighed with a dopey smile as you smacked her shoulder and playfully rolled your eyes. "am i dreaming?" the girl pondered as you pinched her hip with a wink. "no i am just an angel." you grinned, the taller girl moving off of you so you could both sit back up.

"i told you we needed this carpet." you patted the surface fondly now causing leila to roll your eyes. "wanna test how comfortable it really is?" her smile shifted into a smirk you knew all too well as a slight blush crept up your neck at the hidden meaning behind her words.

"i fly all the way across the ocean to you and you won't even take me to a bed to fuck me on my first night here? you used to be so romantic mi amor." you sighed with a shake of your head, laughing as your girlfriend pushed at your forehead.

"technically cariño i did fuck you in the bed your first night here when you visited, and then on the sofa and the counter and the shower and the-" leila started to list off on her fingers as your hand flew to cover her mouth.

"vale! i made dinner, you can show me your appreciation later." you removed your hand and quickly pecked your lips, leilas hand grabbing the back of your neck with a shake of her head. "un par más." the girl mumbled against your lips causing you to smile.

"we have all the time in the world now." you reminded once you pulled away, giddy at the feeling which followed as your girlfriend hopped up off the floor and extended her hands to help you do the same.

with her fingers locked with yours you all but dragged her into the dining room, gently pushing her down into a seat, hands on her shoulders.

"try to relax bebé, you feel tense." you spoke softly, squeezing her shoulders and kissing her cheek tenderly before hurrying off to the kitchen before leila could protest.

despite the overwhelming joy flooding her body at your unexpected arrival the brunette was still in a state of slight shock as you busied yourself dishing up, flittering around the kitchen as leilas eyes wandered around the once messy apartment, so clean she probably could have eaten off any surface without a second thought.

and leila planned to later, more than eager to show you her appreciation and just how much she'd missed you.

leaning her chair back a little and craning her head to the side leila peered into the bedroom, immediately noticing her mountain of clean laundry had suddenly disappeared, as had her wardrobe of clothes which once littered the floor this morning, two suitcases on the bed in its place.

eyes drifting back to you she located the source of the lavender which was wafting around the room, the diffuser you'd purchased her a few weeks go expelling the fragrant floral scent into the air.

if there was one thing leila would associate you with, it was flowers.

you'd made it clear from the moment you'd met her how much they meant to you, forever admiring them with a soft loving gaze, fingers stroking the petals with the outmost care as if they were made from the most fragile of glass.

the older girl noticed you bought yourself a new bunch every week which would sit proudly on your coffee table in the early stages of your relationship before you'd moved in together.

so of course leila then made sure she bought you flowers every week, the radiant smile which would curl onto your face at the sweet gesture each time she handed them over making her heart flutter as you'd hold them so tenderly.

you looked to them as you would a newborn child, as if you could hurt them if handled too rough. after you’d carefully placed them in a vase pecking her lips at least four times, mumbling your gratitude and adoration for her as you did.

the simple memory was the tipping point for the defender as she felt her exhaustion and surprise finally come to a boil, tears welling up in her eyes.

"so i did the best with what i could find but-" you hurried back with a plate piled high with food, though you quickly placed it down seeing the tears in your girlfriends eyes.

"oh lei." your features softened as the thin line of tolerance the older girl had suddenly snapped, the tears carving their path down her flushed cheeks.

"why are you crying amor?" you asked quietly with a small chuckle, your girlfriend wordlessly scooting her chair back and tugging you to straddle her lap, your hands coming to rest gently either side of her face as hers gripped at the back of your top.

your thumbs tenderly wiped away her tears as her fists balled your shirt, twisting the material tightly and pushing your body into hers, burying her face in your chest as you felt her tears dampen your shirt.

"i missed you."

"oh cari." you sighed, arms moving to wrap around her neck, one hand cradling the back of her head as the other dipped down her shirt and traced soft circles on her back with your nails.

you recognized that she clearly needed to let this out as you held her tightly, whispering sweet words of affirmation in her ear as she slowly began to settle. "lo siento, your shirt." the older girl sniffled, cracking a small smile as she pulled her head away, noticing the obvious tear stains on your shoulder.

"está bien, its yours anyway." you teased playfully, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes and reaching behind you to grab a few tissues, handing them to leila as she blotted at her puffy red eyes.

"my day just seemed to go on and on and on. then the last thing i expected was for you to be here. but mi amor i do not want you to feel like you have to do this and you have to take care of me and clean up and-" you cut her off as you gently placed a hand over her mouth.

"vale. i do not feel like i have to take care of you, i never ever have leila. i cleaned and cooked because i love you amor and i want to look after you. i want you to feel cared for and supported. por favor do not thank me, do not feel guilty, just know that i love you more than anything leila." you spoke softly but your words held firm, the defender stunned wordless at the overwhelming wave of emotions she felt for you, only nodding along.

"and now i am here, let me take care of you, sí?" you smiled tenderly, leila again nodding and pulling you into a hug, your lips resting lovingly on her forehead as she mumbled how much she adored you into your shoulder, affectionately kissing your collarbone and jawline before making her way to your lips.

"as much as i love kissing you, please eat before it gets cold." you gently pushed her away and stood to your feet, sliding her the plate of food.

once the pair of you had eaten, ignoring your protests that you could do it leila wasted no time shooing you out of the kitchen and into the shower, threatening to throw you over her shoulder and walk you into the bathroom herself unless you went willingly.

though your teasing remarks about the threat made it harder not to follow through and do it anyway as you headed for the bathroom, but wanting to show you that she could care for you just as much as you could for her, the dishes were calling and after all you were home now, and the pair of you did have all the time in the world.

leila was quick with washing up everything from dinner, unable to wipe the smile off of her face at just how looked after and cared for she felt, wrapped up in the comfortable and cosy little bubble of domestic bliss you'd crafted for her oh so intricately.

as you emerged a short while later from the bedroom you joined your girlfriend in the living room where you took up her normal position as the big spoon, opening your arms and patting the space in between your legs with an alluring smile.

you let out a laugh as the taller girl practically belly flopped on top of you, peppering your face with sloppy kisses before settling in your arms.

you threw on her favorite movie which only softened her up more, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders as you began to massage out the tense knots of stress, pressing the occasional tender kiss to the back of her shoulder blade or below her ear.

the deeper you pushed leila couldn't help but let her eyes start to slowly flutter close, overcome by a tantalizing cocktail of both exhaustion and bliss and relief that you were really here and you weren't going anywhere this time.

and in that moment, wrapped up in your arms and smothered with your love and care, leila solemnly swore to herself, she'd make you her wife one day, and that day was going to come as soon as she possibly could make it.

[sgt-tombstone]

au where Johnny never joined the military (his knee got fucked up before he could and they wouldn’t let him enlist) but it’s okay because that means he got to go to college and study engineering, which is the closest he could get to being a civilian demolitions expert

Anyway, the city his college is in has an army base nearby, which means that every dating app he opens is flooded with army boys looking to marry the first person who so much as looks at them the right way. Johnny’s never been relationship-oriented; he likes hookups too much to settle down like that, but he loves scrolling through to drool over all of the gym pictures

And then one catches his eye. Simon. He doesn’t show his face on his profile, but his muscles more than make up for it. His appearance, though, isn’t what Johnny is most interested in, because his bio says…

Anyone interested in committing marriage fraud?

And that’s… something.

So of course Johnny swipes. He doesn’t expect to match, because Simon looks like a Greek God, and he almost throws his phone across the room when the little heart appears, telling him that he and Simon have both swiped on each other. Which means that Simon swiped on him first. It’s a heady feeling, but he’s not really sure why.

John: marriage fraud?

It’s not his strongest first message, but sue him, he’s curious.

Simon: I’m not interested in a relationship or even sex, but I have a very vested interest in being able to move off base

John: so, what? we get married and then…?

Simon: we don’t have to live together or even like each other. You can finish your studies, get the tax benefits, and live your life as you choose while I get to move off base and maintain my privacy

Honestly, it sounds like a win/win to Johnny. He’s not struggling financially per se, but being able to live exactly as he is while also gleaning tax benefits is… an attractive choice.

John: and if I meet someone else that I’m serious about?

Simon: I have no qualms about an uncontested divorce

John: let’s meet up for lunch and discuss the details

———

Lunch is a simple affair, just a local restaurant, frequented by students and soldiers alike, so they both fit in well. Simon is unfairly attractive, even if he only reveals the bottom half of his face to eat or drink. He’s massive and blond and his eyes do something to Johnny’s insides that he can’t bring himself to dissect further. They chat over their food, sharing details about themselves. Johnny shares more than Simon, and he has a hunch that that’s on purpose, but he doesn’t mind. They click instantly, and Johnny can tell that Simon is taken aback by that. It’s sweet, almost, the way that such a large military man is floundering in the face of genuine human connection. After they’ve finished, they turn to business.

With a quiet, deep voice, Simon lays out his entire plan, and Johnny is fully on board. He’s ready to sign the papers today, but they legally have to wait a month.

It’s the longest month of Johnny’s life.

They text constantly, or as constantly as they can. Sometimes Johnny feels inordinately young and sometimes very inferior; while he’s talking Simon’s ear off about some explosive compound used in building demolitions, Simon is off… doing god knows what, god knows where, serving the country. But Simon always listens, always sounds engaged over the phone when they call, always has follow-up questions that show he’s actually interested. And while Simon can’t talk much about his work, he can talk about details. Small stuff; the awful food, the hot dust where he’s stationed, the day-to-day activities that don’t give away too much. Johnny learns that he’s a lieutenant, a sniper (though that’s more through context clues than anything else), that he wears a mask all the time to protect himself, that he doesn’t like scrambled eggs (or at least, not military scrambled eggs), that he has a very complex skincare routine, that he respects the hell out of his captain. That he’s a good man, or tries to be. That he’s a sweetheart, deep down, despite trying to hide it.

They eventually get married, down at the courthouse, with Simon’s captain, Price, and Johnny’s best mate, Kyle, as witnesses.

And then life goes on. Johnny continues his studies, continues going to parties and hooking up with people every weekend, continues living his life. He assumes that Simon does the same. They keep in contact, for the most part, except when Simon’s in the field and he can’t have his phone, but he always brings back little inconsequential stories when he returns. It’s nice, in a way. They’d never exchanged rings, but sometimes Johnny wishes they had, just so he had something tangible to tie him to his husband.

I’m not sure how it would end, though…

Maybe it would be Sweet Home Alabama style, where Johnny finds someone that he thinks he loves and has to get Simon to sign the divorce papers, only to realize at the last minute that he really doesn’t want to, that he’s been in love with Simon all along

Maybe Simon gets medically discharged and ends up moving in with Johnny, where they both dance around their feelings for each other, despite already being married

Maybe they just… realize one day, that they’ve slowly but surely fallen in love with each other over the years and suddenly, nothing else matters because they’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for

[natalievoncatte]

“Kara?”

She doesn’t answer. Lena’s presence doesn’t surprise her; Kara Danvers always knows where Lena Luthor is, at least as long as there’s a way for the sound of her heart to find Kara’s ears, no matter how soft or faint it might be. In her ruminations Kara thinks on that before she speaks. Even when they were at their worst, when they were hurting each other in every way that mattered, Kara would stop and listen.

It was a secret and sacred thing, a transgression that she would never admit. She would confess to scoping Lena out with her x-ray vision first. She’d never actually done that, but she’d pretend-admit before confessing that, sometimes, she’d listen to Lena’s heart as she slept and drift off to its slow and steady beat.

They’re by the sea, at the Danvers family home. It’s been a year since Alex and Kelly married and a small, core group have gathered here in this house by the waves to celebrate the anniversary. It’s just Alex and Kelly of course and Esme, and Lena and Kara. And Eliza.

She lives here, after all.

Nia and Brainy are in town in an AirBnB, and they’ve been by the house but are mostly doing their own thing. They’ll marry soon, Kara thinks. They have that air about them, the way that Alex and Kelly did before the proposal.

There is a sense of finality to it all that has fallen over Kara like the shadow of a passing storefront, and she sits where she can watch the ocean waves roll in, chin propped on arms resting on knees, curled up and watching the waves reach the high water mark and roll back.

Lena stands beside her now, seemingly unconcerned that Kara hasn’t answered her. This happens a lot now. There are companionable silences. Lena spends half her days in Kara’s home, working from a laptop on Kara’s kitchen counter while Kara writes at the kitchen table.

A lot has happened. Cat Grant offered her the role of EIC at CatCo; Kara rejected it. She’d mad furtive plans to reveal her identity, then canceled them. She’d told Cat but asked that it end there and Cat had respected it, then gone on an esoteric retreat at an eel farm or… something. Kara still submitted articles to CatCo but on a freelance basis, and she was submitting more articles elsewhere lately.

Actually, very little had happened. Kara had more time to really write, now. She put on her suit and flew out the window less and less, being less needed.

Lena sits down next to her and assumes a similar pose. Kara can’t help but look at her; she has never been able to resist looking at Lena Luthor. That too has changed. She doesn’t steal a glance this time, she studies, lets her gaze linger. She looks at the way the light of the golden hour plays with Lena’s soft, easy beauty. Her sort-of-roommate skipped putting on makeup this morning and her hair is down in a mop of air-dried dark curls, some of them lazily riding the breeze around her head. Some of it falls across her face and Kara fights the urge to sweep it back with a soft brush of her fingers.

Lena is beautiful. The warm light makes her pale skin glow, brings out the sparkle in her blue-green eyes, as deep as the sea they watch. There is a soft playful hint of a smile on her lips, but her brows are furrowed.

Kara thinks back to the last time she spoke to J’onn. She told the man, the closest thing she had left to a father in the world, about how she was wearing the cape less and working more, about Lena, about how Alex and Kelly seemed to be moving on, both of them now retired from the insanity of her lives and Alex actually planning to practice medicine.

“That’s what happens,” J’onn told her. “Things pass. Stories end. The great deeds are done, the archenemies vanquished, the miracles all performed. After that is just life.”

Kara wasn’t sure what that meant. In her life -almost sixty years, that she’d experienced as less than thirty- she’d packed in the experiences of a hundred lifetimes. She’d watched her world die, found her family, lost them, made a new one. She’d loved and lost and she’d even died- twice. She’d spent two eternities in her own personal hell.

Kara lets out a slow sigh. She’s still looking at Lena.

They have to have this conversation. Kara just doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. The problem is obvious. Lena and Kara had arrived this morning a few hours after Kelly and Alex, and found that Eliza had, as to be expected, already planned out who was bunking where.

“Alex and Kelly have Alex’s old room,” Eliza had told them, after hugging Lena. “Esme has Kara’s old room, and you and Lena can take the guest bedroom.”

When the words left her foster mother’s mouth, Kara’s heart raced. If Lena thought anything of it, she gave no sign. Kara was on the verge of panic.

Eliza had given the two of them a room with one bed. A small room, a shared room that would give two people no privacy.

Does she think we’re…?

Kara had considered the possibility before. She wasn’t blind or oblivious to a fluttering heart beat or lip bites or long stares, but…

“I’m scared,” Kara says, and she looks away.

She can feel Lena looking at her, gaze unwavering.

“What about?”

Kara swallows hard. She doesn’t know if Lena realizes what Eliza has assumed yet, if she’s put it together. She must have, because she came out here looking for Kara. Kara hadn’t run away exactly, but she had fled. She needed to think.

“One thing I’ve learned,” Kara says, “is that once you say something, you can’t un-say it. You can’t change the truth once it’s been told.”

Lena nods softly. She knows. They learned the same lesson from the same cruel trick.

“Do you know why I held on to my secret for so long?”

“You always said it was to protect me, and I didn’t accept that. Then when…” Lena pauses heavily, “when we moved on, I never really asked again.”

Kara swallows. “I lied. I did it for me.”

Lena says nothing.

“I was scared. I was afraid that once I told you, it would be the same with you as it was with everyone else. Once people know Kara is Supergirl, then Kara stops being Kara. Kara is just Supergirl’s real name.”

Kara’s breath hitches. She glances at Lena, who watches intently.

“I was wrong. I should have known better. I should have trusted you.”

“Yes,” said Lena. “You should have. I should have tried to understand you. To understand why instead of projecting my own insecurities onto your choice. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I forgave you.”

Waves crash in the silence.

“I would forgive you anything.”

“Even beating the last potsticker?”

“I’m serious, Lena.”

Lena sighs. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“You saw the room.”

Lena nods.

“Your mom seems to be assuming that we share a bed,” Lena says.

Kara swallows hard.

“The last time I was with Nia, she asked when I’m selling the penthouse, because she assumed I’ve been planning to move into your loft.”

Kara groped her knees because her hands are shaking. She grips her knees to stop them but it makes her legs shake instead.

Lena shifts closer, scooting across the grass. She’s not touching Kara but it feels like she is. Her touch becomes and threatens. They share space, the sea breeze passing over them as one. Lena looks at her through a tangle of inky curls and her eyes are infinite, searching Kara for something.

“I have deemed a dream,” Kara whispers. “I fear if I dream it too deeply I’ll suddenly wake, and when I wake it’ll be gone the way dreams always are, and it will fade as fast as any dream. The thought of losing it hurts so bad it makes it feel like my chest is caving in.”

Kara looks at Lena now. She looks so young, she is young. Her power suits and makeup and air of command and defiance all make her seem almost matronly but here with Kara that mask is gone and beneath it is her true self, her secret self that not even their friends see, a young girl who’s never been young.

Just like Kara.

“What if you woke up and the dream came true?”

“Sometimes,” Kara admits, “I wonder if you’re real. I used to dream of things when I floated in my pod and they seemed so real…”

“It’s real, Kara,” Lena whispers, soft and breathy. “It’s real and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing has to change. It’s just going to evolve. I know what you want to say and I’ve been scared of it too. What you’re saying, I can feel it in my soul… when the Luthors took me in, I used to dream that my mom was alive. I’d wake up smelling breakfast and hearing her sing and when I realized it was just a dream it was like she died again every morning.”

“I love you.”

Lena stares at her. Kara hears Lena’s steady pulse flutter and begins to stammer.

“I know I’ve said it before. I mean I’m in love with-“

Lena presses a finger to her lips.

“I know. Stop telling me and show me.”

Kara freezes, not sure what she meant. Lena twisted languidly and leaned towards her. Kara freezes briefly and then just lets go, moving on instinct. Using a little strength she pulls Lena into her lap, gently touches her chin, and tilts her back a touch, to kiss her.

It is at once tentative and soft and absolutely explosive. Kara forces back tears, as Lena embraces her with all her strength, molding herself to Kara as if she means to climb inside her. For all her urgency, her kiss is just as delicate, just as tender and exploratory.

It is as it has always been. They compliment each other perfectly, moving together without a word needed, Kara breaks the kiss because Lena needs air and lowers her to the grass, fully on top of her now, brushing lose strands of hair back from her face to kiss her again and again and again, each kiss ah apology, each brushing of lips a lament for time lost.

They could have been doing this for years.

Lena arches under her, grinding hungrily, kissing her furiously. She moans softly as Kara’s hands find bare skin and Kara murmurs a Kryptonian prayer against her lips, and her thighs rise to bracket Kara’s hips.

Kara feels it all. The desire, the lust, the need, and above all the unbridled joy. This is no dream. It’s real. It’s happening. It’s…

“Eww,” Alex says.

Kara snaps up, acutely aware that her hand is halfway up Lena’s now-askew top, and that Lena has leg-locked them together. Lena lets her head fall back and peers up at Alex.

“Eliza sent me to find you two. Dinner is ready,” Alex sighs, then turns, muttering,

“Get a room. Sheesh.”

Lena cracks first, unleashing a gale of laughter.

“Let me go,” she protests.

Kara lets her…. briefly. Play-wrestling ensues, and Lena just know that Kara is letting her win as they roll in the grass, but it no longer matters. Lena is flushed and grass-stained and joy burns her in her eyes and-

“Come on!” Alex bellows.

Kara helps her up, and they head for the house.

[joanofexys]

Thinking about the Minyard twins and how for each other they'd do it all over again. That Andrew would always rather someone's hands be on him than ever touch Aaron. That Aaron, covered in blood that wasn't his, risking his whole future, would bring down that racquet a thousand more times because it was for Andrew. Aaron who wants to help people and Andrew who wants to help Aaron. They're brothers, they're strangers, there are things they'll never be able to understand about each other, and things only the two of them can comprehend. Andrew would get in that car every time even if it meant he died. Aaron would always reach out to Andrew when he found out about him, even knowing how much it would hurt. The amount of times Andrew saved Aaron's life so Aaron has a chance to save lives. They spend so long clinging onto hollow promises and feelings of betrayal. Unsure how to say “you’re my brother, of course I love you” through anything other than “I’d do it again”. They’re two of the people who never gave up on each other even when everyone else had, even when they’ve still been strangers longer than they’ve been siblings.

[steddiealltheway]

It’s a cold Wednesday night in January that has Eddie turning the thermostat up and allowing the government supplied heat to fill the trailer. He glances up at the vents and gives them a quick middle finger, wondering if they bugged the place to observe him or make sure he isn’t spreading their secrets.

He doesn’t really care at this point if they’re watching though. They already held him at the hospital for long enough, poking and prodding as if he wasn’t even human. But he didn’t turn into a vampire or some shit because of those damn bats. No. The jagged, ugly scars littering his body served as a lovely reminder that he was ultimately human.

Eddie glances at a nearby mirror and cringes at his face, taking a look at the long scar running down his cheek, jaw, and neck. The Corroded Coffin guys all said it made him look metal, and he would throw in a, “Hell yeah,” before smoothly changing the subject to something that didn’t involve him for once.

He takes a finger and slowly trails it over the pale pink skin, wondering if there will ever be a day he won’t notice it.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out gently from the room down the hall.

Eddie jumps back and glances toward him, hand falling to his side and flexing uncomfortably as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“You okay?”

Eddie smiles and gestures toward the thermostat. “Damn thing wasn’t working for a minute there. You’d think with the amount of hush hush money they were able to pay all of us, they’d be able to give me and Wayne a better trailer.”

But Steve only crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, eyebrows raising gently. It’s not entirely accusatory, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a thing Eddie’s saying.

Although they’ve grown close while going through the same treatment and tests in Owen’s new secret facility, it still surprises Eddie how easily Steve can read people. More specifically, how easily he can read him of all people. “Just got lost in thought,” Eddie confesses while making his way back to his room as he sees Steve squint at the lights in the living area.

Steve steps out of the way as Eddie brushes by him and closes the door. He hope it’s enough honesty to end the conversation.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks, ignoring the signals Eddie is giving him.

Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face and climbs back into his bed, quick to pull up the blanket around himself in an attempt to get some much needed warmth while simultaneously covering his scars from Steve. “Stuff.”

Steve rests his hands on his hips for a second and stares, mouth opening and closing for a moment before deciding against whatever he was going to say. Instead, he climbs into the bed with Eddie and joins him under the blanket, keeping enough distance so they’re not touching, but they can still feel each other’s body heat.

Eddie glances over at him, noticing the way the one lamp turned on in the room gives him a nice golden halo. He looks gorgeous and untouchable - exactly how Eddie used to think of him through high school and sometimes even now. The perfect golden boy. But despite the name Eddie gave to him years ago, he can’t ignore the flaws that Steve possesses, yet they somehow make him even more perfect to him. Or maybe just human.

Eddie shakes his head and glances away. He wishes Steve came over to smoke so Eddie could blame the drugs on the way his thoughts race when he’s next to him. Instead, he has to face up to his enormous crush on the perfect golden boy.

“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks out of the blue.

Eddie snorts and glances at him, only to laugh harder when he sees the adorable look of confusion on his face.

Steve’s brows furrow but the edges of his lips quirk up. “What?”

Eddie pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to try to hide his wife smile. “Kind of random, don’t you think?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said I was great at starting conversations. But I was just thinking about what holiday is next.”

“The worst one,” Eddie complains.

Steve turns toward him. “And why’s that?”

Eddie sighs and let’s himself go on a tangent. “It’s the one day of the year where people feel like they have to do all this shit for their partner, and the rest of the year, they think they can just get by doing the bare minimum. And people are left realizing what it would be like if their ‘other half’ actually put in an effort day to day. And then for all the single people, it’s a day where love is shoved in their face, and they have to feel bad and sometimes disgusted by all the public displays of affection going on around them and… I just hate it all. The stupid chocolates in the red heart boxes and the teddy bears and big heart shaped balloons and roses…”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about Valentine’s Day,” Steve says with a laugh.

“Well, now you do.”

They both sit in the silence for a few moments, Eddie thinking about all the other things he didn’t even touch on about Valentine’s Day that he hates, while Steve is probably taking in everything he just said.

Steve bumps his shoulder and asks, “So, I’m assuming that means you have no plans.”

Eddie laughs. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Steve shrugs and looks away with a smile.

Eddie glances at his clock and notices it’s technically Thursday now, and in these early hours, Steve will usually either silently fall asleep or he’ll lay awake in the silence until one of his thoughts has to make itself known.

Either way, Eddie knows he’ll be up for a few more hours, but he’s never regret the sleep he’s lost since they’ve made this silent arrangement.

The bed shifts, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, laying down fully and staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to reach out for the hand laying beside his. He wonders if he should add something to the ceiling like some type of mural with stars and whatnot.

He tilts his head to the side, envisioning how it would look in the lamplight since he and Steve refuse to sleep in the dark. Or maybe it’s just Steve and Eddie’s picked up on the habit of leaving the lamp on.

“Do you think you’ll make plans?” Steve asks quietly.

Eddie turns to look at him, at a lost for a moment before realizing he’s still on the Valentine’s Day subject. He smiles sadly, “No.” Steve glances over at him and holds his gaze, expecting more. Eddie sighs and gestures at himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly what people want to bring home to their parents at the moment plus with the,” he gestures to his face and drops his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

He hopes Steve will let it go and not connect the dots back to earlier.

A silence settles between them, but Steve’s gaze burns into the side of Eddie’s face. Then, he finally asks, “Is that what distracted you earlier?” When Eddie doesn’t answer he continues, “I saw you looking in the mirror, and I know you usually go out of your way to avoid them.”

Eddie wants to question how Steve noticed, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up about something that was just passively rather than intentionally observed. “Yeah,” Eddie states simply.

The bed shifts as Steve turns on his side to fully face him. “And you really think you can’t get a date because of them?”

Eddie sighs and rubs both of his hands over his face. “Steve, who is ever going to love me like this?” He turns and continues, “Privately, yes, someone could maybe get past the scars. But in public? You really think someone is going to be proud to say, ‘Here’s my boyfriend,’ and show off me?”

“Yes,” Steve says instantly as if he has no doubt in the world.

Eddie turns away, trying not to get choked up about it. Because how can he explain to him that while it’s nice that Steve has that confidence in him, Eddie wants Steve to be the one to be proud of him. To want him like that.

“Do you think my scars make me unlovable?” Steve asks.

“No! Jesus, Steve,” Eddie rushes to say and turns to him. He reached out and lays a hand over his side, feeling the way the skin puckers under the thin t-shirt. “These are metal as hell. Hot even. They make you more lovable if anything.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and slowly pulls it off his side to hold it up, the scar on it being presented out to Eddie. “And this doesn’t make you more lovable?”

“Steve…” Eddie protests quietly as Steve pulls his hand close to stare at it.

“The scars you got protecting us. You think those make you less lovable?” Steve asks, pulling his hand close enough that his lips ghost over the skin.

Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like Steve as Steve presses a soft kiss into the tough skin. He stares at Eddie with a worried look in his eyes as he whispers, “Too much?”

Eddie shakes his head, too stunned to get the words out.

Steve intertwines their hands and pulls Eddie’s arm toward him. “These scars,” he says kissing the next one on his forearm, “Are beautiful on you.” He moves on to the scar on his elbow stretching to his bicep, lips trailing against the sensitive unmarked skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “How could anyone hate these?” He asks leaving three soft, lingering kisses before shifting on the bed to hover above Eddie, still holding his hand but now against his stomach so he can press a kiss against his shoulder. “These scars show everyone what you were willing to sacrifice for us.”

As Steve moves to the scar on his neck, Eddie’s head drops back, giving him more access as he groans out, “Steve.”

“These scars,” Steve says, kissing up his neck over and past the scars, “Are exactly,” he murmurs as he kisses past his jaw and peppers kisses up his cheek, “Why I love you,” Steve finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth near where the scar that Eddie traced earlier ends.

Eddie glances up at Steve as he hovers over him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying until it finally clicks. “You love me?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and squeezes his hand before letting it go so he can lightly caress his cheek. “I have since you decided to be a hero and sacrifice yourself. Which was exactly what I told you not to do by the way.”

“I’ve never been great at following rules,” Eddie breathes out and reaches a hand up to run through Steve hair. “Steve?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you, too,” Eddie confesses.

Steve smiles and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He pauses before adding, “You know, one time when I was little, I captured a squirrel and it may have attacked me and left a scar on my lip.”

Steve laughs. “Is that so?”

Eddie smiles and nods.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s lips and he moves his thumb to swipe over his top lip. “You know, I think I see it.”

Eddie debates telling him that it was actually his bottom lip, but instead he just breathes out, “Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a teasing smile.

“Steve.”

Steve keeps smiling as he hums, “Hmm?” When Eddie huffs, Steve fakes surprise with a gasp, “Oh. You want me to find the picture for you!”

Eddie groans, “Steve!”

“Uh huh?”

Eddie huffs and cups his face. “You are infuriating.”

“Is that s-”

Eddie interrupts him by taking matters into his own hands and leaning up to kiss him. He feels Steve smile against his lip before finally kissing him back.

Steve pulls away and breathlessly asks, “So, do you think you’ll have plans for Valentine’s Day now?”

Eddie’s head thumps back on the pillow. “Oh my god.” Steve laughs. “Oh my god!” Eddie says and shoves Steve off of him only to roll over so he hovers above him. “You were trying to ask me out this whole time?”

“No, I just wanted to know your opinion of Valentine’s Day.”

Eddie gives him a light punch to the arm and smiles wide as he stares down at Steve, lying beneath him in the golden lamp light. His perfect golden boy.

“I still hate it by the way. Even if I have plans now,” Eddie comments seriously.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put in the effort year round for you and make sure to keep you away from the public that day,” Steve says running a hand through Eddie’s curls before tracing it down the scar on his cheek in a way he thought no one would be able to do - lovingly.

Eddie leans down and gives Steve a quick peck. “I’ve also got some scars on my hips I might want you to check out.”

Steve laughs loudly and pulls him into a kiss that truly makes Eddie breathless, all while tracing his hand over the scar on his cheek. And for the first time, Eddie learns to love the scars adorning his body.

[lov-3-rs]

Let’s be Honest

Simon Riley (Bodyguard) x Reader!!

(mdni 18+)

Your father is an undercover investigator working a dangerous case on a human trafficking ring. Unfortunately, they somehow discovered his intentions, and now they're out for revenge. So, they’ve put a bounty on your head, claiming you’re worth millions to whoever is able to find you and sell you to the best bidder. Despite the danger, your father can’t abandon his mission as there were other lives on the line. He’s too close to cracking the case, rescuing the victims. To protect you, he hired someone no one would see coming for them and that was going to be protecting you. He hired a Ghost.

————————————————————————————

The moment you saw the brute, you couldn’t believe it. This 6’3”, 220lb, constantly masked man was supposed to be by your side for who knows how long. The sheer size of him was intimidating enough, but the mask? It kept you wondering what kind of man was beneath it.

You couldn’t argue with your father, though. He wanted you safe, and you weren’t about to be taken and sold off to some creep. So, you dealt with it. But now it’s been two months too long. Two damn months of constant monitoring, endless rules, and the same warnings: 'You need to listen to me Y/n,' 'Stay by my side,' or ‘It’s not safe.' It was honestly getting sickening at the fact he had complete control over your day to day life now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I was thinking of going shopping today, get some fresh air,” you say, taking a bite of your breakfast. He stands near the window, eyes scanning the street outside like he always does. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low, almost disinterested. You roll your eyes. “Jesus Christ, why not? It’s just us walking down the street, Simon.”

You started using his real name after weeks of pestering him to tell you. It felt weird calling him “Ghost” all the time—like something out of a video game. What good was being around someone this long if you didn’t even know their name?

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable behind the mask—if there’s an expression at all. Then, just as silently, he turns back to the window. “You never know.” You put your fork down and stop eating, “Simon, I can’t keep going days without stepping foot outside, i’m literally going insane”, he steps away from the window and pulls a chair out to sit beside you. “Everything I do and everything I say is to protect you, that is the whole reason I am here”. you looked into his hauntingly dead eyes. “Please you can’t keep me trapped in these walls”. You say with hesitation in your voice wondering if this will be another useless plea to let him agree for you to get out the house. He paused for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. You smile, “oh my gosh really? we can go?!” you say quickly standing from your chair in excitement. “yes. but the moment I feel something is off we leave, immediately” he says sternly. You were already putting your plate away and running to your room to get ready.

You visited a few of your favorite stores near your house, picking up small items here and there. Simon stayed close, as usual, walking silently beside you. As you stepped out of another shop, he leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We’re going to one more store, then we’re heading home. Do you understand?” You shot him a side-eye but nodded, not in the mood for another argument.

The last stop was the lingerie shop—you had been eyeing their new fall line for weeks. You grabbed a few panties and bras before something else caught your eye: the most stunning, sexy set you’d ever seen. You had to try it on. Walking into the dressing room, you slipped out of your clothes and into the delicate lace set. The fabric felt luxurious against your skin. You peeked your head out, only seeing Simon waiting, his posture as stoic as ever. You stepped out to check yourself in the mirror, admiring the way the set hugged your curves. From the corner of his eye, Simon caught sight of you. His jaw clenched almost immediately as he tried to keep his focus elsewhere, but it was impossible. He’d been around you every day for two months, and he had seen plenty—your tight shirts with no bra, shorts that barely covered anything. He’d always kept his cool, reminding himself that you were off-limits, and he took care of himself whenever you were asleep or when he took a shower. But seeing you now, in something so revealing, stirred something deeper in him that made his jeans tighten. He forced himself to remain still, but the tension in his body betrayed his thoughts. Respect for your father, the job—those were the only things keeping him from acting on what he felt. And he had to keep it that way, or at least he was trying to.

You caught Simon’s gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask, but you could feel something he wasn’t saying. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat. “What do you think?” you asked casually, but your pulse quickened. You didn’t know why you even asked—it wasn’t like you cared what he thought about lingerie. Or did you?

He blinked, caught off guard. “About what?”

“The lingerie,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I thought I’d get a professional opinion.” His jaw tightened more, but you caught the flicker of something in his eyes. “You don’t need my opinion.” You stepped a little closer, testing his boundaries. “Maybe I do.” He stayed still, but you could see the tension in his stance. His voice, when he spoke, was low. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” You laughed lightly. “What? Shopping?” His eyes met yours, and for a second, there was nothing but silence between you. “No,” he said softly, almost reluctantly. “This.” The weight of his words hung in the air. For a moment, neither of you moved. His response was a beat too slow. “You should hurry up,” he muttered, his voice deeper than usual. You rolled your eyes, but his tone made your skin tingle. There was something about the way he held himself that made you wonder—did he see you the way you were starting to see him? You slipped back into the dressing room to change, but the tension lingered, thick in the air. When you came out, dressed again, Simon stood up immediately, his shoulders tense. “Let’s go.” The rest of the walk home was quiet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted.

You walked into the house, setting your bags down and slipping off your shoes. Simon followed closely behind, immediately locking the door and heading to the windows like he always did, scanning the outside for any sign of danger. But your mind was elsewhere, replaying that one word—this—over and over again.

What did ‘it’ mean? You had to know.

“Simon,” you called out softly, still unable to meet his eyes. “What did you mean earlier?” He stiffened immediately, turning to face you. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he’d been hoping you would let it go. He didn’t mean to let that word slip out, and now he was trying to think of a way around it. “What do you mean?” His tone was even, but there was a slight edge to it, a hint of tension. You swallowed, gathering your courage. “You said I was making this hard. I’m not sure what that means… I want you to tell me.” Finally, you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching like he was fighting with himself. His silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, as though he was weighing whether or not to tell you the truth. He turned back to the window, staring outside as if it would give him the answer he needed. “You’re making my job harder,” he said after a long pause, but there was something in his voice—a hesitation. But you had a smirk on your face knowing exactly what it was, “it was the set wasn’t it?” there was a pause, “you thought I looked good, too good right?” you stepped closer to him testing his limits wanting more reaction out of him. “I think you should keep this fantasy shit to yourself” he said quickly snapping back at you, but you kept pushing, “I don’t blame you Simon, I bet it’s been months since you got laid and I won’t lie it’s been a hot minute for me too with you being around me all the time, having me cooped in this house” you can see his brows furrowing. “you’re crossing the god damn line” that’s what he was saying but the raging boner in his pants said completely different about your attitude.

Before you knew it, he was stepping toward you, his hand gripping your arm firmly. “You’re pushing me too far,” he said, his voice low and rough. You met his gaze, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “Maybe I need you to push back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment was charged, and without warning, one of his hands let go from your arm to lift up his mask above his nose exposing his lips. your eyes widen never seeing anything but his eyes for the last few months. Before you knew it his lips were on yours, It was intense and consuming, leaving both of you breathless and more entangled than before.

He picked you up and put you on the dining table. the kiss became more passionate with his hands tangled in your hair, you could feel your core throb waiting to be touched. Simon pulled away from you and looked into your eyes, “you don’t understand how long i’ve wanted to touch you” he says breathing heavily. “all those times you walked around with no bra and I could see your fucking nipples through your shirt and the times you walked around with your ass out, god I wanted to bend you over, i’d fuck you right there and don’t even forget about the times I could here you moaning in the shower doing god knows what to that pussy, ya fuckin minx” your cunt was practically dripping at his words, your breathing became more heavier, “Then do it Simon, bend me over and fuck me” before you could say anymore he already was turning you over on the counter and pulling your pants down. “already planning on it love”. Simon pulled your pants down then slowly pulled your panties down revealing your wet pussy. he bent down to get eye level with it bring his fingers up to your folds and playing with your clit. You moaned at his touched, “fuh-fuck”. Simon pulled his fingers away and replaced it with his tongue, licking your throbbing clit and making you squirm.

He ate you out till you came on his mouth, “Si please”. Simon got up and looked at your bent over form while he started unbuckling his pants, “please what love?” he already knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. “fuck me hard” he smiled at your words taking his hard cock in his hand rubbing his pre cum all over the top of his head giving it extra lubricant. He aligned his cocked to your hole and slammed into you making you jump, “Shhhhhhhit” you hiss out the word from the painful pleasure. He started to thrust in and out of you hearing your moans made him want to cum already but he couldn’t, it felt too damn good to stop now. Simon bent down to your ear, “All those fuckin times you were playing with this tight cunt in the shower, who were you thinkin about huh?”. You didn’t want to answer out of embarrassment but you did it anyways, “y-you si, I thought about sucking your cock and you cumming all over my tits” that snapped something in him when you said that, his pace picked up he started fucking you harder, his balls slapping against your clit. “what would ya daddy think of the man he hired to protect you fucking your pussy raw?”. You could feel your self about to cum, “Si I’m gonna cum on your cock” his thrust became sloppier feeling himself about to finish too, “cum baby, cum”. Simon thrusted harder into your cunt making your back arch more and your ass jiggle against his hips the sight was pushing him over the edge, “god damn baby i’m gonna to cum” his hands gripped into your hips harder. “Simon cum inside me god please”. He busted a load in you, pushing his cock feel in you making sure nothing came out, “fuckin hell”.

After the intensity of the moment subsided, Simon and you lay there in the aftermath, the room now quiet except for your shared breathing. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender. “I didn’t plan for this,” Simon said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and affection. “I never wanted to cross that line.” You turned to face him, your own emotions swirling. “Neither did I, but… it felt right in the moment. I just want to know what this means for us.” Simon looked at you with a conflicted expression. “I don’t have all the answers. This situation is complicated, and I’m still trying to figure out how to balance my feelings with my responsibilities.” he says lowly “I understand,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “I just need to know where we stand. Do you want to try and make this work, or is this something we need to move past?” There was a pause as Simon considered his words. “I care about you more than I should,” he admitted. “But I also need to focus on keeping you safe. We’ll have to navigate this carefully.” You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. “We’ll figure it out together,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“As long as we’re honest with each other.”

[lolabangtan]

sideshow | jjk

You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.

# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*

A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.

You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.

Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.

But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.

Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.

Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.

In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.

“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”

You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”

“And I do!”

“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”

Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.

So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.

The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.

You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.

The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.

Then you turn around.

“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”

You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.

His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.

“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.

Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.

“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Y/N! Are you okay?”

Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.

Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”

“Hm?”

“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.

Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.

“Do you think he likes you back?”

You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”

Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.

“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”

With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.

When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:

“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”

Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.

“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.

“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”

Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”

“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”

“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”

“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”

You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.

“What if he says no?”

“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”

Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.

“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.

Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”

The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.

You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.

There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.

“Hey.”

“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”

Oh, that was nice. Very nice.

You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”

“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”

“Not exactly.”

Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.

“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.

He’s looking at you in complete silence.

Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”

Ah.

Of course he knows.

He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.

“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”

Your heart is beating fast too.

“Me?”

Well,  I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.

You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”

“I, uh...”

“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”

“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.

In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:

“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”

You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:

“Wait!”

You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.

Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”

“Bye…”

By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.

You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.

Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.

[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.

Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.

[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?

[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.

Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.

After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.

“Hi, come in.”

You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”

You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.

“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”

Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.

“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”

“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”

He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”

“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”

“Cool.”

“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”

He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”

You nod slowly and clear your throat.

Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”

“Thank you…”

You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.

You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.

You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”

Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.

“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”

When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”

“O-okay, gotcha.”

Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.

You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.

What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.

“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”

When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.

It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.

“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”

Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.

You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.

Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.

Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.

As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.

“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”

You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”

“I-I don’t know what—”

You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.

“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”

Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”

Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”

Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.

Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.

On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.

Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.

Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.

“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”

You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”

Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.

Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.

You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.

“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.

Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”

“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”

“And— if I do?”

Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—

“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”

Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.

“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.

But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.

“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”

Jungkook goes still.

“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“I—”

You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”

“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”

“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.

“S-stop lying!”

“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”

You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.

“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”

“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.

Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.

“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”

The woman was too stunned to speak.

“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”

The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.

And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.

You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”

“M-mommy, please—”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.

He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.

It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.

Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.

Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.

“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”

His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.

He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.

Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.

Shit.

You’ve gone off script enough as it is.

You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”

Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.

It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.

It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.

Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.

His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.

Shit, you’re dripping.

“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.

As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.

Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.

“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.

Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.

Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.

Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”

You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.

He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.

But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.

“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.

“W-what?”

“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”

A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”

“Let me return the favour.”

While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.

“F-fuck!”

You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.

Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.

You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.

Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.

His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.

“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”

You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.

“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.

“Dunno—”

“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”

Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.

To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”

You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.

Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.

“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.

Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”

With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.

Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.

“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.

“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”

Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.

Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”

“I’m not a pervert!”

“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”

“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.

“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”

To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.

“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”

“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”

“Fuck—”

You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.

Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.

“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”

Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.

Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.

Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.

You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.

“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”

As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.

“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.

Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.

He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”

Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.

You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.

“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”

Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.

You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.

“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”

Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”

Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.

“Please,” Jungkook cries out.

“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“

Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.

You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

“Please!” he begs.

The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.

With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”

When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.

“M-mommy—”

You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.

“Mommy,” he calls again.

“Yeah…?”

“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”

“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.

He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.

You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.

“Let me take care of you.”

Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.

Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.

Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”

You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.

Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.

“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.

You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.

He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.

“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.

His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.

You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.

Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.

“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.

After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.

“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”

In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.

“Good.”

You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?

“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.

Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”

Courage.

“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”

The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.

“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”

“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”

“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.

Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”

“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”

He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”

You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.

“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”

He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”

“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“Sideshow” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

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[sunny44]

Baby fever

Pairing: Mac Verstappen x Girlfriend!reader

Warnings: baby fever

Summary: Max gets the baby fever after seeing Y/n with his nephews.

I always knew that my life was destined to follow the straight and fast line of a Formula 1 track. Since I was a child, racing cars were my focus, my passion. The idea of starting a family one day was always there, but it never occupied my thoughts. At least, not until I met Y/n.

From the first time I saw her, I knew she would be the love of my life and the person I wanted to build a future with. But we live life one day at a time, and even though we’ve made plans for the future, it wasn't something we were in a rush to pursue.

My sister Victoria gave birth to little Hailey a few weeks ago, and today we were going to meet her for the first time. She and Y/n have been messaging each other every day since Hailey was born, trying to find the right day for our visit.

When we arrived, Victoria and Thomas were in the living room, visibly tired but radiating happiness. Besides the little baby, they also had my two other nephews, who, though older, still required a lot of attention. I couldn't imagine how exhausted they must be.

We eagerly approached to meet little Hailey.

"You arrived just in time," Victoria said, her voice soft but full of enthusiasm. "She just woke up. Do you want to hold her?"

I was going to hold her first, but seeing Y/n’s eyes shining with emotion and excitement, I quickly gestured for her to go ahead.

Victoria handed Hailey to Y/n, who took her with the utmost care, then sat on the couch and patted the spot next to her for me to sit beside her. Y/n held her for a while before handing the baby to me before she fell asleep so we wouldn’t disturb her.

The light weight in my arms was something incredibly significant for me, even though I had held Luka and Lio many times when they were babies, every time felt like the first.

Hailey, with her big, bright eyes, looked at me with innocent curiosity. She had rosy cheeks and a serene expression, almost as if she were absorbing the world around her for the first time. My heart, accustomed to the fast pace of racing, seemed to slow down in that moment.

Y/n moved closer to me on the couch, gently touching the baby’s arm. "She’s so beautiful, Max."

"She really is." I replied, still surprised by the strength of the emotion washing over me. There was something deeply moving about holding this small human being who was part of my family.

As Hailey moved her hands slightly, almost as if she were trying to hold someone’s finger, I began to imagine what it would be like if that baby was ours. A part of me always believed I was far from being ready to be a father, that my life was too fast-paced to accommodate something so big and important. But in that moment, I felt a shift, something I couldn’t ignore.

"Are you okay, Max?" Y/n asked, noticing the silence that had settled between us.

"Yes," I replied, smiling softly. "I’m just watching her. I'm afraid to speak too loudly and scare her."

She smiled back, but there was a deep understanding in her eyes. Y/n has always been able to read me like no one else, and I knew she understood that I didn’t wanted to share what was on my mind at the moment.

After a few minutes, Thomas entered the room with Luka, my oldest nephew, who immediately ran into Y/n’s arms. They’ve always had a special connection, something I’ve always admired. Seeing the two of them together brought me a quiet joy, something I was beginning to value more each day.

Y/n had disappeared for a little while earlier while I was still holding the baby. When Hailey fell asleep in my arms, I handed her back to my sister, who went to put her in her crib. Tom had just gone to put Lio down for his afternoon nap, and I went to find my girlfriend.

I heard laughter coming from the backyard, where a scene unfolded that made my heart leap once again. Luka was laughing, running around the yard with contagious energy, while Y/n chased him, their laughter mingling in the air in a way that made the world seem lighter.

I stood there for a moment, just watching. There was something deeply familiar about Luka, as if I were looking at a miniature version of myself. It was something we always laughed about because he looked just like me. Y/n was always amazed at how similar we were, saying he could easily pass as my son.

He was the spitting image of the Verstappen family, and seeing him so happy and at ease with Y/n made me think about how she would be as a mother.

I always knew Y/n had a special way with children, but seeing the genuine and joyful connection between her and Luka made something bloom inside me. An idea that, until then, I had kept somewhere distant in my mind.

"She gets along well with him, doesn’t she?" Victoria’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"She really does," I replied, without taking my eyes off the scene in front of me.

"Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?" she asked, smiling as if she had caught me in the act.

"Maybe," I admitted, feeling my face heat up. "I never really thought about it before, but... I think something has changed."

Victoria nodded, understanding without needing more explanations. "Babies have that effect. They make you see the world in a different way. And from what I see, you and Y/n would make great parents."

“Thank you. She would definitely be a great mom,” I said before starting to laugh at their giggles.

The idea hit me with an almost frightening clarity. What once seemed like a distant dream now felt like a real, tangible possibility. I knew my life would never be normal, that the travel, the races, and the constant pressure would always be a part of me. But seeing Y/n laughing with Luka, I realized there was room for something more. For a family. For a future that, until then, I had never dared to imagine.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with soft shades of orange and pink, Y/n approached me, still smiling, her face lit up by the simple happiness of the moment.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing my expression.

"I was just thinking," I replied, gently pulling her closer to me, "that maybe one day... we could have something like this."

“Like?”

“A house with our kids running around.” I said and she looked at me, surprised, but then her smile widened, full of love and understanding.

"You think so?"

"I know so." I said, with a certainty I never thought I would have. "And I can't wait for it."

"I can't wait either," she said, giving me a quick kiss. "Though I find it almost impossible to imagine a child that looks you than Luka. But I’m sure that if our kids look like you and we take Luka and Lio with us they’ll all look like our kids."

I started laughing as Luka continued to play around us, and with the soft sound of the wind filling the space between us, I realized that the dream of having a family, something I never knew I wanted, was becoming clearer. It was a dream I wanted to share with Y/n, a new kind of race that I was eager to begin.

Bonus scene!

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“Family time”

[sadsongsandwaltzes]

I’ve noticed an overwhelming trend of 20 something/early 30s not adapting well to parenthood, and motherhood specifically (woman to woman, here)

This is the first generation of now adults that have been raised with a default state of rest. The concept of working and doing what needs to be done from sunrise to sunset is foreign, so something as demanding and difficult as motherhood seems overwhelmingly impossible.

If you view life as your default being watching TV and checking off a few things from a list during the day, you surely aren’t going to adapt well to that which forces you to actively live. It’s a complete lifestyle switch — to a life where you must do everything intentionally, even rest. Which is by far a better way of living, but it has been robbed from these younger generations.

And adding to the problem is lack of community. Folks are herded through life like cattle with little interaction with those outside their own age. They don’t have an older, wiser guide to follow through life, neither do they know how to make sense of the little ones. Enter all the atrocious baby and parenting books that do no good but cause stress and confusion for these young parents, but they eat them up because they have no other point of direction through parenthood. They’ve never really cared for the little ones outside of a four hour Saturday night babysitting gig a couple times in high school. They’ve never had to manage a household. They can hardly manage themselves.

And while this post is about a concerning trend of parents not being able to raise their own kids, it’s really just one symptom of the larger problem that I’ve already pointed out: we no longer actively live as much as we passively exist.

There are more and more people who are amazed at the concept of Actively Doing all day.

And I speak with such authority here because it’s a mindset shift I’ve lived through. I can get done in one morning what used to take me a week. And I have hobbies. And I have been learning new skills. And I have more responsibilities. And I have had no trouble taking these things in stride as life has marched on since having this mindset shift.

A lot in life really does come down to mindset. And that is the problem plaguing folks my age and younger.

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter One: New Places, New Faces

Ao3 | Next

MDNI

Pairing: Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

Johnny stirs awake with a grunt as Riley’s wet nose bumps against his hand. There’s a very slight ache behind his eyes - the kind that marks an oncoming migraine. He groans, not wanting to open them to the invasive sunlight that will inevitably make it worse. Then again, that’s the only way he can get any preemptive pain medication in his system. He still makes a noise of complaint when he finally peels back his lids.

“Feelin’ alright?” Simon rumbles, setting a glass on the nightstand along with two little pain pills. How he’s able to tell what kind of morning Johnny’s having before even he can is a true mystery.

Johnny just grunts back, rolling onto his side to grab his hearing aid out of the nightstand drawer. Normally he wouldn’t bother with putting it on with a possibly impending migraine, but he figures he can chance it. They’ve been lessening in the past few months. Somewhat.

“Plans for the day?” Simon asks as he pulls on one of his work shirts. “Up for coming to the shop?”

The little clock beside him blinks out five in the morning. Even after being retired for nearly three years, neither of them can manage to sleep in late whether they have to be up or not. “Gonnae take Riley out tae the park. Might drop by.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Me? Never.” Johnny flashes his husband a grin.

Simon just rolls his eyes in response. The rest of their morning is quiet, as most are when Johnny isn’t up for talking. It’s a comfortable silence, one they both came to appreciate long before this current chapter in their lives. One that developed on cots and in tents and the wreckage of war zones.

It’s just how they are.

Being essentially a stay at home husband was not how Johnny pictures his thirties. Being disabled was not how he pictured… any of it. He thought he’d be up for Lieutenant by now. Thought Simon would have taken over as Captain of the 141. He’s learned not to be bitter about it (with Simon’s and some professional help).

He can’t complain too much. He’s alive. He gets to be with his family. With Simon. With Riley in this run down dog park throwing around a ball that she dutifully chases and brings back with the pride of a great hunter bringing home a prized beast. He gets to go home to a place that is truly his, with a big comfortable bed and a man he fought tooth and nail to fill it with.

It’s a small life but he’s learned that small doesn’t mean unimportant.

Christ who knew turning thirty would make him a damn philosopher.

“Alright, lassie, time tae go.” Johnny crouches to shuffle Riley’s harness and leash back on. He knees pop and his back protests the movement. It’s a mercy that they were able to get such a lovely service dog. She’s such a good pup, always at the ready and happy to obey.

Except now, as she begins to tug insistently at her leash with her full weight - or at least as much as she can use without hurting him. It isn’t like her. He clicks and commands her to heel. She tugs harder and whines. It isn’t an alert that he knows - maybe it’s one that they don’t need often? He lets go of the leash, following as she quickly jogs away.

He circles a few bushes in pursuit, coming to face one of the large trees on the outer edge of the park. There’s a girl leaned on it, breath coming in and out heavy. She starts to slip forward a bit before Riley props her up, stabalizing the girl in much the same way she does Johnny when he gets faint. He speeds up his steps, holding out his hands on either side of the girl in case she falls.

“Aren’t you a good girl?” She coos at Riley quietly. American. Huh. He watches the girl dig in her pocket for something, eventually pulling out what looks like a to-go salt packet. She tears it open, throwing it back like a shot.

“Ye a’right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head.

She nods and takes a long, deep breath. “Sorry, I have a…thing.” She waves her hand around her head, straightening up and turning to face him. She’s cute. Insanely cute - with big eyes and soft body. Lovely curves from head to toe. Johnny may be a married man but that doesn’t mean he can’t apprecaite a little, right?

“Donnae apologize. I’ve got a thing, tae.” Johnny grins and points to the scar on his head where his hair never quite grew back.

She gives him a soft smile. “Well, you’ve got a good dog. I’ve never had one alert like that.”

“Aye, she was tuggin’ hard. Must’ve been a pretty bad spell. Ye sure yer okay?”

“Yeah.” Her braided hair falls about her shoulders. “Just didn’t eat enough before I went for a walk and then I stood up too quickly…”

“Och, standin’, my age old enemy.”

She giggles quietly, pressing her fingers over her lips to cover them. It’s pretty, the way her round face gets even rounder with her smile.

“Johnny.” He holds out a hand, flashing his most charming smile he can muster. It’s a little more tired these days - the corners of his eyes crinkle more than they used to. The girl takes his hand, so soft and warm and small in his, and breathes out her name quietly. Almost bashfully. So cute.

Unfortunately his phone chimes, interrupting the moment before he can ask her more.

“I should be off, ye sure yer okay?” Johnny lets his eyes take over her, not just her body but also checking that she is, in fact, okay. Her eyes seem clear, stance steady, not too pale or too flushed. He’s no medic but he’d say she’s going to be fine.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.” She crouches slightly, slowly moving to look at Riley. “And thank *you* ma’am.”

Johnny watches her walk away, pausing to make sure she doesn’t stumble. He’s not sure what compels him - maybe it’s the solider in him still wanting to watch for the safety of those around him. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the way her wide hips sway as she makes her way down the path.

Johnny can’t stop smiling as he makes his way to the shop for some reason. It wasn’t even all that impressive of an interaction, but something about it really warmed his heart. Maybe it was just meeting someone else with a *thing*, as she put it. There really isn’t anyone else in his life who needs as much support as him - certainly not many adults in this small town who need assistance on the whole. It’s rare to meet someone who gets it, however briefly.

“Wot’s got you so chipper?” Simon quirks an eyebrow as he enters.

The door bell chimes above his head. Riley trots off from Johnny’s side to her designated bed in the corner of the shop. Away from the food but close enough that she could easily get wherever Johnny might be. One of the regulars even made a plaque for her that his Da screwed on the wall.

“Met a nice lass today in the park.” He shrugs. “Pretty little thing.”

“Ah, your great-aunt’s prayin’ finally do you in?” Simon chuckles as Johnny ducks behind the counter to rest a hand on the small of his back.

“Aye, finally realized I should turn tae a life of lassies an’ biarns. Yer great arse has no power over me now, foul demon.”

Simon chuckles. There’s something about it that always does Johnny in. A low rumble he can feel in his very bones. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”

Johnny hums. “The warm weather helps, fer whatever reason.”

“Good. You see the shop across the street?”

Johnny turns, looking out their front window. The construction has been going on for a few months - various workers milling in and out. Neither he nor Simon could figure out what they were putting in until small signs were put across the windows announcing the new location to be The Honey Bun Bakery with an opening date at the bottom. A bit cutesy for their taste, but a new bakery in town is exciting. The last one closed because the owners got too old and had no one to take over. His mother has been buzzing about it since the signs were first put up.

The biggest mystery is the owner. No one has seen hide nor hair of whoever owns the place. There were movers taking things into the attached apartment on the floor above about a week ago, but no one has actually seen the resident. He or she is a ghost. Gossip has filled the town, of course. Especially among the older folks. That’s another thing his mother has been fluttering about.

“Already opening day, eh?”

“Yep.”

“We should check it out, then.”

Simon hums. “We’ll go after the morning rush if you’re up for it, hm?”

“Aye.”

“Johnny?” The shorter man jumps as Simon’s hands rest on his waist. He’ll never get over the intensity of Simon’s eyes. For a man who keeps his emotions locked in the deepest parts of him, he sure carries a lot of it in those pretty dark pools.

“Aye?” The word comes out breathier than he means it to.

“You look sunburnt.”

Johnny barks out a laugh, half-heartedly shoving his husband off. “An’ here I thought ye were gonnae say somethin’ romantic.”

“You know me better than that.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners with a smile as he pulls the mask to the side, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips.

You may or may not have slept exactly 3.46 hours last night. It’s not your fault, really. Today’s your first day. Your first real day of your new life and your new career. Years of prayers and months upon months of planning, waiting, crying, and straining have finally come to a head. You’re in Scotland, your bakery is constructed, all that’s left is to actually bake.

And sell, of course, but you try your hardest not to think about that part or you might throw up. Again.

You curse the time it takes you to shower, carefully acclimating to the heat of the shower and sitting in your little plastic seat. You want to run, to act like the a whirlwind you feel in your head. You can’t, though, it’s not worth possibly ruining the most important day in your life just because you were impatient and passed out. At least you finally got your medication situation figured out before coming over here - the perfect little cocktail sitting on the corner of your dresser.

Your hands tremble a bit as you open up one of the cardboard boxes still sitting in your living room. You’d picked out a special outfit for your first real day of owning your own business months ago - one you made sure would be here with you on opening day. Really, it isn’t anything special - just a pair of black gingham trousers and a black cotton t-shirt along with your well-loved non-slip shoes. It’s yours though, and it perfectly matches your specially embroidered apron with your little logo on the front, center pocket. It’s yours. All yours. It’s a reminder that you’re here. You made it out.

You had already done a good bit of the work the day before - putting together your doughs and shaping up pastries to proof overnight in the fridge. Now all that’s left is to actually bake them and put them out. The smell wafts through the building, covering any left over scents of paint or construction work. It feels real. Grounding. You’re here and you can feel, smell, even taste it.

You expected a few customers. Not much. High hopes and low expectations. Just a couple people here and there that noticed the new shop coming to town and were curious about it. You’d advertised as well as you could from across the pond. Maybe a little rush around the late morning when people are usually out for brunch and shopping at most.

You did not expect a constant stream from the moment you propped the door open until the late afternoon. These Scots run you fucking ragged. A constant flux of in and out, all day. All them wanting to chat, as well.

“Oh, American! Whit part are ye from?”

“Yer sae young! Just a wee bairn!”

“So nice havin’ a bakery again, aye?”

“Urr ye merrit? Ah hae a son-“

You regret not buying that coffee machine for the back room.

Just as you’re stacking display baskets to take to the back to wash up the door chimes behind you. Here you thought you were finally done for the day. You sigh. “Sorry, hun, I’m pretty much out of everyth-”

“Ye!” You whirl, only to meet those same bright blue eyes from the day before.

“Johnny!” You squeak, eyes wide.

“Why dinnae ye mention the shop?” The man grins wide - the same as the day before. Sparkling and bright and far, far more pretty than you’re prepared to deal with. His hair is neater today - not ragged from exercise with his service dog who currently sits politely by his feet.

“Ah, was little light headed. Wasn’t thinking straight.” You shrug.

“Speaking of, how’s yer thing?” He waves a hand about his head the same way you did the day prior. It’s cute how invested he seems to be, genuinely asking if you’re alright. The man looming behind him watches silently.

“Oh, I’m alright. Finer than the hair on a toad split four ways.” You grin.

The man behind him furrows his brow slightly at the expression, but doesn’t offer a word. He’s tall. Wide too and dressed in all black with long sleeves despite the warm, spring weather. His hair is buzzed neatly. There’s a severity to him only emphasized by the scar splitting his brow and the small chip missing from his ear.

“Och, this is my husband Simon.” Jihnny steps to the side and gestures toward the brooding figure behind him. “We own the butcher shop across the street.”

“No shit!” You can’t help but smile ear to ear, holding out your hand. They seem so sweet. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Glad to have such nice neighbors.”

Simon shakes your hand a single time curtly before stepping back behind Johnny. The severity in his dark eyes softens whenever he glances toward the other man. Cute.

“We wanted tae come see whit ye’ve got.”

“I haven’t got much left…” You tap your chin and rest a hand on your hip, wanting to rectify the dip of disappointment in the pretty man’s brow. “Oh! I’ve got a sourdough in the back. One sec!”

You skitter off, paying little mind to how silly you must look practically prancing toward the back room. Originally, you’d planned to save this for yourself tonight as a job-well-done treat but it feels more gratifying to give it to your new neighbors. Hopefully they like it - maybe you can finally make some friends for the first time in… ever really.

“How much fer it?”

“On the house. We’re neighbors now, yeah? First ones free.” You grin, wrapping it extra nicely in some brown paper packaging.

“Thank ye, bonnie.” Johnny cradles the loaf so carefully you almost laugh - as if he’s afraid too much pressure will completely ruin it. Like he’s holding a precious treasure. “We’ll leave ye alone tae close but we’ll see ye around, aye?”

“Course.” You nod, waving after them and they exit. You can see the big blonde, Simon, turn to Johnny to say something but it’s impossible to hear them or tell from their lips as they cross the street back to their butcher shop. They link hands, fingers intertwining with long practiced grace, and something in your throat constricts.

What’s it like, you wonder, to have a love like that?