#been leading you on for MONTHs thinking you’re just being buddies

[theloveinc]

Bakugo is the type of idiot who doesn’t realize that roughhousing with someone you’re interested in is erotic … not until your legs end up around his waist, his arms above your head and his mouth near yours … and then he’s just thinking oh shit lmfao

[hazyhae]

indica dreams | ldh

plug!hyuck x fem!reader ft. bestie jeno and cousin johnny

summary: when you finally decide to do something about your sleeping problem, your best friend suggests weed as a solution. he introduces you to donghyuck — a plug who makes it his personal mission to teach you everything there is to know about it. 

wc: 11.7k 18+ mdni

cw: fluff, mild angst, smut, weed/marijuana use in multiple forms, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it up!), creampie, oral (receiving), flirty down bad soft dom!hyuck who's highkey a simp, dirty talk + voice/praise kink, reader has sleep problems and is a chronic overthinker, reader has a bad trip on weed, tender loving and reassurance, baby/sunshine/my girl as petnames

you turn over in your bed for what feels like the hundredth time, eyes shut tight as you groan in frustration. you open your eyes and feel around for your phone, blinding yourself once the screen faces you. 4:23 a.m. great.

when your alarm set for work blares just a few hours later, you feel as though you shut your eyes for only a few minutes, reluctantly getting up to start your day.

this has been happening for a while now — maybe 1 or 2 months? you’re not sure when exactly it started, but you know the stress from work has been affecting your sleep schedule terribly.

you’ve tried melatonin — huge headache the morning after. other methods you tried led to something similar or didn’t work at all, and it frustrates you to no end. after another day of fighting to stay awake at work passes by painfully slow, you sit on your bed brainstorming with your best friend over the phone.

“i think we’ve gotta do something about the stress, then maybe the sleep will come with it?” jeno’s voice rings through the speaker. you can tell he’s just waking up, evident in his low voice and delayed responses.

“like what? quit my job?” you ask sarcastically. “you know i can’t do that.”

“i know, not that.” you can almost hear him shrug. jeno never has any problems sleeping, being able to sleep through the night and even take a nap or two throughout the day with his work from home job.

a lightbulb seems to flash in his head as he lets out a small gasp. “wait,” his voice sounds closer to the phone speaker, and a few seconds later, your phone buzzes with a new message.

6:06pm jenjen: dongfuck 010-xxxx-xxxx

“dongfuck?? who the hell is that?” you ask, confused and almost slightly irritated.

“oh shit, i forgot it sends the contact name and everything,” jeno laughs. “anyways, i think the answer to your problems is some good old weed.”

you pause. it’s not as if that never crossed your mind, in fact it has even before your sleep problem came about.

you never entertained the interest as no one in your friend circle knew enough about weed for you to feel comfortable trying it for the first time and you haven’t had the energy to go out as much, giving you no chance to meet someone who does.

“i could be down? but what do you know about weed, lee jeno?” you ask your friend suspiciously.

“no, not me,” you hear him tap on the phone for emphasis. “that’s where my buddy dongfuck comes in.”

you don’t know why, but your gut feeling tells you that you might be in for more than just a good night’s sleep.

lee donghyuck

the new contact in your phone apparently belonged to the resident stoner of his friend group who hustles as a local plug, and while jeno had his thoughts about the guy, quoting pain in the ass and corny flirt, he couldn’t deny that he knows more about weed than anyone he’s ever met. and as much as jeno talks shit, you know how he’d be if he actually hated the guy.

you had texted the new number nervously, asking if he could give you the basics on getting high, and he had responded with “it’s too much to text” and an address. jeno trusted the guy, so you did your best to brush aside your nerves.

it’s your saturday off when you arrive at the address he sent, triple checking that you are at the right place. your gps leads you to a building that looks like a 2-story house. it’s so lowkey that you probably would have walked right past it if you weren’t looking for it, but upon closer inspection it has a very minimal but aesthetic exterior, with vines running alongside the house’s entrance.

“NCTeaHouse” a sign reads right above the door, and you peek inside the small window in the door to see the interior. your mouth forms an o as you realize the house is in fact a store.

the front door opens suddenly, almost hitting you in the face as you step back in surprise. a dark haired man with rounded glasses peeks his head out from behind the door.

“oops, my bad. __ right?” he asks, a little unsure.

“yeah, and you’re donghyuck?” you ask, taking in the man who looks to be around the same age as you.

“just hyuck is okay, come on in!” he says cheerfully, opening the door fully. “i was wondering when you were gonna come in, saw you wandering around the entrance for a good 5 minutes,” he chuckles.

your face gets hot at the knowledge that he saw you like that. “i was making sure it was the right place, okay?”

he hums and leads you in, and you take in the view of the shop around you. it’s tiny, but warmly decorated, browns and earth tones dominating the space with boxes lined along the shelves and few displays in the middle of the shop. he goes behind the front counter, bent down as he rummages through a box.

you take a look at products at the register, finding that they are different tea bags. glancing back at the displays, you recognize the other boxes to also be different tea brands, and some other products you don’t recognize.

“is this where you sell?” you ask, seeing that he’s still looking for something.

“oh no, not here, this is my side job. we sell tea, coffee, and some other stuff.” he gets up with a smaller box in hand, leaving the register as he beckons you to a back room. “but it’s my cousin’s shop, i just help here when i can.”

the back room is also warmly decorated, simple with 2 couch chairs, a table with a coffee maker, and a tiny fridge with a small burner on top.

“you can sit in one of those chairs, do you want some tea?” he asks. you decline politely and sit as he places a kettle on the small burner, turning it on before sitting on the other chair.

“aren’t you working right now? i don’t want to take up too much of your time,” you ask worriedly, not expecting the address he sent to be his workplace. he shakes his head.

“nah, trust me, we barely get any customers, and if they do they’ll ring the bell out front,” he says, waving his hand. “anyways, jen told me you wanted to learn about weed? what do you want to know?”

you feel your face get hot again. you know quite literally nothing about weed, and to admit that to a friend of a friend is a little embarrassing. but again, if jeno trusts him, so do you.

“to be completely honest.. i know nothing about it. i just know i have trouble sleeping at night and jeno suggested it might help,” you tell him.

“so just for sleep?” he asks.

“well, yes.. and no,” you start. you finally have the opportunity to learn the ropes from someone who actually knows what they were doing, but would he be down knowing you were starting from ground zero? he peers at you, noting that your expression looks a little conflicted.

“hey, no need to feel shy about it. everyone has to start somewhere,” he assures.

his words have more of an effect on you than you would expect, feeling touched at the reassurance of someone you barely know. it’s crazy how one sentence can have you feeling like you can trust him with whatever, but you nod in response.

“i think.. i’d like to learn at least the basics about weed, or even more if you’re willing? i’ve always been interested but never had the chance to explore it, but something tells me that’s what you’re all about,” you let your inner thoughts spill. he noticeably lights up at your words.

“and you’re absolutely right! trust me, as long as you’re willing to learn, i’m more than willing to teach,” he chimes, excited for someone who could potentially be as into weed as he is.

like you, none of his close friends really indulge in the substance, and it’s not like he can smoke on the regular with his customers, so he feels genuine excitement at the prospect of a weed buddy.

the sight of his lit up face at your curiosity really reassures your decision to trust jeno’s recommendation. as if on cue, his kettle starts whistling and he gets up to turn off the burner.

you watch as he pours the water into a mug he had set to the side. your eyes trail over his outfit: a comfortable looking brown hoodie paired with some ripped jeans that hug his long legs just right.

your eyes move back up to his face, only to see him staring back at you with an eyebrow raised.

“like what you see?” he asks with a teasing grin. you groan to hide your embarrassment, now seeing what jeno meant when he called him a corny flirt. but you really were checking him out, so you quickly try to come up with an excuse.

“i’m just thinking you don’t really look like you’d be a plug,” you redirect. he shakes his head.

“and what do you think a plug should look like?” he asks, face the tiniest bit more serious. the question surprises you.

“i guess, a little scarier?” you say quietly. you do imagine a plug being that way — quiet, intimidating, maybe a few tattoos. definitely not the man in front of you with his big brown eyes behind a pair of silver framed glasses, fluffy hair and even fluffier hoodie. he laughs at your answer.

“and that is where you are wrong,” he tuts at you, waving a finger. “stoners come in all shapes and sizes, and this plug of yours just happens to be incredibly charming and handsome.” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you can’t hold back your laughter.

aside from the last part, his words ring true, and you feel a little silly at your preconceived notion. one of the main things that has stuck out from him so far is his lack of judgement, and it’s something you admire. maybe this really is a good thing for you.

“anyways, when are we gonna start these lessons?” you ask, returning to your original goal.

“we can start now if you’ve got time,” he smiles, taking a sip of his tea. you check your phone, noting that not too long has passed since you arrived. you don’t have any plans besides trying to catch up on sleep, but you know that will probably be futile. why not?

“i’ve got time,” you let him know, and he meets you with a bright smile. he gets you some water, telling you to get comfy for his “weed 101” course.

“so let’s start with sativa vs. indica.” he types something in his phone, pulling up a slideshow. “all weed will fall into one of these two, or a combination of some sort.”

“you didn’t have to make an entire presentation??” you gasp. he must really be that eager to teach you.

“just let it happen, trust the process,” he insists. “anyways, you’ve got that sleeping problem, so anything indica would be your best friend,” he explains, showing you different examples on his phone.

“and what about sativa?” you ask, and he grins.

“that, my friend, is what you smoke when you want to have fun.”

you quickly realize that there is so much more to weed than you initially thought.

he jumps from topic to topic on different strains, smoking vs. edibles, joints vs. blunts, pipes vs. bongs — it was a lot. your head spins as you try to recall all the information he’s given you, and he takes notice at the shift in your demeanor, even if you try to feign the same eagerness you had coming into it.

“is it too much? we can take it slower, break it into sessions maybe,” he offers. you’re really wowed at how down he actually is to do this, and if you’re being completely honest, hanging out with an attractive guy while learning about and potentially indulging in some weed plus hopefully getting a good night’s sleep out of it? it sounds too good to be true.

“won’t that be taking too much of your time?” you ask worriedly.

“i’m true to my word, as long as you’re willing to learn, sunshine, i’m all yours,” he says, mouth pulled into his same grin as he downs the last bit of his tea, probably cold now after hours of talking. “plus the next few times you come, i’ll bring my stuff so you can try it out.”

you know you aren’t immune to his charms, and your face warms at the affectionate words. despite the corniness jeno complained about, hyuck had a way of keeping you on your toes while giving you an odd feeling of ease.

“i think i’d like that a lot, thank you hyuck,” you beam. an alarm on his phone rings, and his eyes widen.

“it’s already time to close? time flies,” he says getting up from the seat to start closing up shop. you get up too, ready to head home. “wait,” his voice halts you.

“are you hungry?” he asks a little timidly, a stark contrast for how casual he’s been this entire time.

you’ve been there for a while, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starving at that point. “yeah definitely, my last meal was breakfast,” you recall.

“okay sit tight, then. dinner’s on me, let me close up really quick,” he smiles, and before you can protest, he’s rushing through the break room door. a smile rests on your own face. you pull out your phone to check the time, seeing messages from jeno.

4:29pm jenjen: u ok? he didn’t eat you did he

5:50pm jenjen: dude wait are u ok neither of you are responding to me 5:50pm jenjen: don’t replace me ):

7:15pm you: stop you big baby we were just having a good conversation 7:16pm you: ngl i’m glad you introduced us, i have a good feeling about this jen (:

even after you insist you pay for your own and treat him as thanks for his lessons, hyuck stubbornly refuses and pays for the entire dinner bill. as he pulls up to your apartment to drop you off at home, he places a box in your lap before you exit his car.

“tea?” you ask, eyeing the box. reaching over to your lap again he taps on the box, punctuating his words.

“this right here is something i mixed up a while ago. i’m not the biggest edible person, so when i don’t feel like smoking, i’ll drink some of this. there’s barely any weed in it, but steep it for like a minute and try some an hour or two before you sleep.”

he looks incredibly proud of his own creation, but you’re a bit conflicted. it’s difficult to meet his energy when you’re nervous at the thought of trying weed for the first time on your own.

you don’t voice your nerves, not wanting to dampen his excitement. he’s already given you a lot and you just met the guy.

“thank you hyuck, i appreciate it.” you open his car door, getting down with the box in hand. “see you next week?”

“no problem at all, try that and let me know how it goes okay? i’m kinda not the biggest texter, so call for anything,” he says softly. “i’ll see you next week, sunshine.”

with the nickname sending a buzz through you, you close his car door, padding up to the front of your apartment complex before turning to wave. he waves back, flashing his headlights, and he doesn’t leave until you’re completely inside.

you go into your kitchen, placing the box on your counter. you open it, pulling out a paper accompanied by little tied sachets containing an assortment of dried leaves.

steep for two minutes with boiling water, can steep longer if you want a stronger tea.

-h

you smile to yourself. lifting a sachet to your nose, you note that it smells like a regular bag of tea. he did say there was barely any weed in there, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try?

you double back on that thought. you really don’t know how you’re gonna react to it, and the anxieties crawl back up your throat. what if it doesn’t turn out well, and you’re all by yourself with no way of getting the substance out of you?

you don’t want to risk it. you put the contents back in the box and place it in one of your cabinets. maybe you’ll invite jeno over to try it with you so at least you’d have someone with you if it all goes wrong.

you get ready for bed, hoping that the night brings you even a little sleep.

your hopes are unfounded when you wake up to a call from your manager, begging you to come into work to help fix an urgent problem. she promises you double pay and breakfast, and reluctantly, you accept.

you head to work with only the idea of some extra money in your pocket keeping you going, but you know already the second you step foot into your work building that you will be fighting for your life for the next few hours.

by the time the sun has set, you’re dragging yourself through your apartment door, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next 24 hours. you change out of your work clothes, hopping straight into bed and closing your eyes in hopes that sleep will take you.

when your eyes open an hour later, frustration bubbling at your throat from an hour of tossing and turning despite your utter exhaustion, you rip your sheets off, heading to your kitchen.

you open a cabinet, taking out a familiar little box. you’re willing to give this a try — anything to get some good sleep. but anxieties still run through you as you take out your phone to text your best friend.

8:35pm you: jen wyd?

you wait for a few minutes staring tiredly at your phone until a message pops up.

8:41pm jenjen: out with jaem what’s up?

you sigh, letting your friend know to forget it, and open the box. there sits a familiar note, and you trace over the neat handwritng.

call for anything. hyuck’s words ring in your ears. before you know it, you’re moving on autopilot and repeated ringing sounds through your speaker, his name displayed on the screen.

rrrring. rrrring. with every ring you feel more anxious, debating on just hanging up and resorting to melatonin, and when it reaches his voicemail, your heart sinks.

you end the call, placing your phone in your pocket and deciding to look for your forgotten sleep supplements. you don’t even take more than a couple of steps when your phone starts buzzing. you answer without even checking the id.

“__? what’s up?” his voice rings through the speakers and relief floods your system.

“hyuck, sorry to bother, but are you busy right now?” you ask.

“free for you, and not a bother, don’t apologize,” he says, and you can hear the smile on his voice. your cheeks twitch into a slight smile at his sweet words, but the tiredness seeps into your words.

“i’m gonna try your tea.. i’m so exhausted and i can’t sleep but i’m just so nervous about trying this by myself — oh and i called jeno but he’s busy — i’m sorry i ju-” your sleepy spiel is interrupted by his voice.

“woah, woah, sunshine, let’s slow it down a bit. no need to apologize for anything, really,” he assures.

you feel as though you could cry from the combination of relief and sheer exhaustion, now a little calmer explaining your circumstances and nerves at your first time having any sort of weed.

“hey, go ahead and try it, and i’ll stay on the phone until you fall asleep, okay? you can tell me if you’re feeling bad or weird or anything and i’ll be right here.”

“promise?” you ask hopefully. it’s not ideal to be asking someone you’ve known for literally a day to stay on the phone with you, but your tired mind and body scream sleep over shame.

he laughs. “you’re so cute, yes i promise.” you try not to show how much of an effect his words have on you, masking your stirring feelings by warming some water.

in the next 20 minutes, you’re sitting in bed with a cup of hot tea, taking small sips and letting the aroma waft as you chat over the phone. he’s right, the tea tastes nothing like the pungent scent of weed you are familiar with. his tea is calming and herbal.

“tell me about your day,” he requests, and you start from the call from your manager in the morning, explaining how some intern almost cost your company a client under your project, and you had to save their ass.

“you’re too good for them,” he says smugly.

“you’re just saying that, but thank you,” you reply, and he denies it, whining slightly.

“i would never say anything i don’t mean,” he asserts. he acts offended that you would even insinuate he was only flattering you, and you try not to read too much into his words, now halfway through your cup of tea.

“how about you tell me about your day, hyuck?” you ask, changing the subject.

he’s happy to talk about his day, lamenting spending his entire weekend at the shop, but explains how there were a group of unique customers today.

“this guy came in with a few friends, asking us if we have anything that could calm animals?? i honestly don’t know shit about pets but i don’t think tea and coffee are safe.” you chuckle at his animated telling of the story. “he had reeaaally nice eyebrows, though.”

your cup now sits empty on your nightstand, your head resting heavily on your pillow as you listen to him. he’s so expressive, and you hum in response to his ramblings. you have no thoughts besides how pleasing his voice is to your ears.

your eyes feel heavier and heavier as his voice sounds more and more distant.

when you wake up to your alarm set for work chiming the next morning, you feel the most rested you have in months. checking your phone, you see a missed message notification.

10:48pm hyuck =) : sleep tight, sunshine

a while has passed since your first go at the tea, and it’s three weeks until you are able to see hyuck again. at the beginning of those three weeks, you found that every couple of days hyuck would call, checking in on you. the first few calls never lasted as long as your first did, but soon you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice.

you started to ask him how his day was before he could hang up, and after a few times of sharing back and forth, nightly calls to talk about your days became a routine.

in all honesty, you wanted to see him sooner, but the work days kicked your ass and different friends made plans on your days off. despite the chaos in other parts of your life, it felt like your nightly calls were what got you through the tiring days.

you were almost out of tea, and resorted to having the tea every other day to save. something must have shifted when you met hyuck, as even without the tea, sleep came much easier with the exception of a few days.

when you call hyuck on a friday night after work, hoping to restock and spend some time with him over the weekend, he meets your request with enthusiasm.

“didn’t realize you missed my lessons so much, my #1 student,” his teasing rings over the speakers.

“actually, youtube is sounding really good right about now,” you reply, putting up a flat tone at his remarks.

“i’m kiddinggggg jeez, come to the shop around 6 tomorrow? dress warm, we’ll try something new,” he instructs, and you agree.

sitting in your living room, you take a sip of the usual tea, noting that you’re down to your last bag. you drift off to sleep that night, and instead of the anxieties you had felt the night before the first time you met him, excitement floods your system at the thought of seeing him.

the next day’s lesson brings you to a new location, still NCTeaHouse, but the cozy back patio behind the store. strung up hanging lights are already lit, given how the sun has started to set, and the lounge couch makes it look like an ideal hangout spot.

“if you see me napping back here one of these days, you better not say anything,” you joke with hyuck.

“you’re always free to, as long as i’m invited,” he winks and you’re shaking your head at his unabashed self. you’ve gotten a lot more used to his flirty words, coming to expect at least a line or two during your nightly conversations.

“anyways, you’re probably wondering why we came out here tonight.” you nod, and he lays the contents of his pockets on the small table in front of the two of you.

“i thought we could try smoking today, if you’re comfortable,” he grins, arranging everything on the table, and you’re impressed by the assortment.

he’s got different bags of weed, wrapping papers, lighters, and little tins. he gets right into explaining, pulling out the contents of the tins. he holds up two rolls, one a little thicker than the other.

“this right here is a joint, it’s just weed. this thicker one is a blunt. it’s got nicotine in the paper so the high is a little different.” he hands them to you to look at and continues. “i prefer blunts, but depending on what you put in them, a regular joint would probably be better for someone who hasn’t smoked before.”

you never doubted jeno’s words, but hyuck really is living up to your friend’s praise of his weed knowledge. you nod in understanding at his clear explanations, handing them both back to him. he sets aside the joint and starts to put away the blunt until you stop him.

“let’s do the blunt,” you quickly interject. despite wanting to go with the more beginner-friendly option, something in you wanted to do what he liked. maybe that way you could get a little taste of his world.

“wait, are you sure? it might be a bit harsh,” he warns.

“trust me, i can take it,” you say stubbornly. he pauses almost unnoticeably with an unreadable expression at your words before it shifts into a dubious look.

“if you say soooo,” he teases. you slap his arm lightly, huffing as he laughs before getting up to grab some water before you begin. he settles back into the couch once he’s back. he picks out a blunt and his lighter, turning to you with a more serious expression.

“this high will probably feel a bit more intense than anything the tea could do, so just take it easy okay? if you start feeling bad, please tell me,” he emphasizes. “promise?” he holds out his pinky.

you nod, linking your own pinky around his. he tightens the hold and you feel your heart tighten a bit in turn. the emotions whirling in you are too complex to decipher, ranging from slight anxiety at the thought of actually being high to gratitude for hyuck’s reassurance.

“just watch, okay?” he places the blunt between his lips, lighter flicking at its edge as he inhales for a few seconds. he holds the smoke in, rotating the blunt a few times before straining his neck up to exhale a hefty cloud of smoke.

the sight leaves you breathless. hyuck is attractive, and of that you have been sure since the day you met.

but this hyuck, sitting next to you in his black leather jacket and dark jeans on the baggier side stirs something inside of you. it’s just one hit, but you’re outright entranced by his movements. he brings the blunt back to his mouth for another hit, and flicks it on an ash tray sitting on the table as he holds in the smoke.

your eyes don’t leave his hands, adorned in a few simple rings as he moves as if it’s just muscle memory, smooth and rehearsed. he again lifts his head to release the smoke, and this time you can see a vein that trails down his thick neck as it comes into full view.

what is likely not even half a minute feels like an eternity to you, and it takes a couple calls of your name to snap you out of your trance.

“earth to __? wanna try now?” hyuck waves his hand in front of you, offering the freshly ashed blunt.

“just a couple seconds, and not too strong of a pull. hold it in for a few seconds before releasing the smoke,” he instructs as you pick it out of his grasp. you nod, bringing it to your mouth.

you do as he says, pulling only for a few seconds before passing it back to him, intending to hold the smoke in. you don’t get to that point though, for as soon as the two second mark hits, your throat constricts as you involuntarily cough up the smoke you pulled from the blunt.

curses leave hyuck’s mouth as he quickly puts out the blunt, scrambling to hand you the water he brought earlier. you take it quickly, letting the water soothe your throat as you continue coughing between sips.

“are you okay?” he asks, worried expression on his face.

“i-i’m good, i thought i was gonna do better than that for my first one though,” you admit sheepishly.

“hey, we’ve got a lot of time to practice,” he reassures.

you’re not sure if the weed is already hitting you, but the warm hanging lights seem to illuminate his face even more. his fingers play with a silver chain laying on his white shirt.

“do you want to try another? or are you good?” he asks, peering into your face to check for any signs of dicomfort.

“i’ll try one more time,” you resolve, and he grins, firing the lighter back up. he holds the blunt up in front of you, and your hand moves to grab it, but he doesn’t let go, keeping it steady in front of your mouth.

“go for it, sunshine,” he gives you the go ahead, still holding it for you as your mind screams at the intimacy. you lean forward a bit to take a small hit of the blunt, trying to ignore his eyes burning into you. you make sure to inhale a little less than the first time.

“goood, just like that, now hold it in for a bit.”

you lean back into the chair as hyuck brings the blunt to his own lips, taking a drag out of it as he watches you carefully. this time, your throat doesn’t constrict, and you blow the smoke upwards emulating his earlier movements.

“that’s my girl,” he praises, smile stretched wide. you were doing so well, but his praise catches you at the very last bit of smoke leaving your throat, causing a hitch in your throat as you lightly cough.

he hands you the water again, patting your back as you curse under your breath.

“don’t worry, it’s still your first time, and i’ve heard coughing after smoking gets you even higher,” he coos, pats turning into gentle circles on your back.

you feel hyperaware of his touch, but when his hand separates from your form a piece of you longs to have it back. you glance at him as he takes another hit. you might not necessarily know what feeling high feels like yet, but whatever you’re feeling right now might just be it.

the anxiety and gratitude you felt coming into the smoke session has melted into something else — a desire of some sort that you can’t put your finger on. you know that’s not from the substance now in your system.

all you know is that the fuzzy feeling in your body and mind along with the dark-haired man next to you is something you could get used to.

after that day, something definitely shifted. you see hyuck a lot more, and every time he comes more than excited to teach you something new.

the next time you see him it’s pipes. he came prepared with two — one for you and him, and sent you home with the one you were using once you got the hang of it, insisting it liked you better.

another time is bongs. this one was pretty hard for you to get a hang of, and his hands guided yours on how to hold the bong and when to take out the bowl. it was hard to stay focused on the steps with his casual physical contact, so you’d have to revisit that.

one of the days, he even brings his dab rig set up to show you. you were completely lost with this one, and he didn’t force it, just assuring you that you could always come to him and he’d have it all ready and set for you.

he takes pride in showing you his creations, and is always quick to affirm you as you learn. while he never explicitly said he was doing it, you could tell after the first time you smoked that he wanted to find ways to make smoking a little easier on you.

you recall a specific day you came over to the shop, promised the “hyuckie special” by its namesake over the phone the night before. you were surprised to see someone other than hyuck in the shop once you arrived, especially since it was after hours.

“are you the one donghyuck’s been bringing around here?” a tall man with ashy brown hair tucked behind his ears stood behind the counter. he was really handsome, but also slightly intimidating. the tattoos on his exposed arms reminded you of your initial idea of what a plug looked like.

you muttered a timid yes as you approached the man. he definitely looked a little older than you and hyuck.

“johnny, i’m the owner of your little love nest,” he joked, hand reached out to shake yours.

you shook his hand, introducing yourself as you tried to tell him you’re just friends. before you could, hyuck busted through the front door, eyes going to your joined hands.

he stomped up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you stepped back from the counter.

“what are we talking about?” he asked, pointed look at johnny. johnny just laughed loudly, clutching his stomach as you stood there, confused.

“relax lover boy,” he regained composure, turning to you. “thanks for keeping him busy, i should’ve known something was up when he stopped texting me every week whining about the shop.”

hyuck’s hand tightened around your shoulder, and he started tugging you around the back.

“don’t listen to him, bye,” he called not even looking back. johnny just waved, trying to keep down another laugh at his cousin’s erratic behavior.

“bye, __, see you around!” he waved, you returning it as best you could as hyuck pushed you through the door. as soon as you reached the back patio, a sulky hyuck started grumbling.

“you won’t be seeing him, he’s barely at his own shop anyways.” he plopped down on the couch, emptying his pockets as usual.

a lilac colored tin stuck out among his materials, and you picked it up to see what it was. his familiar neat handwriting spelled out your name.

“made that one for you, think you’d really like it,” he noticed you observing it, sulkiness gone.

a floral, herbal scent wafted to your senses once you opened it, and inside you saw a few joints.

“that’s the hyuckie special — or should i say the __ special?” he pondered, taking them from you to show them off. “i know you secretly prefer joints so don’t argue with me, but this one is a custom blend of a hybrid strain and dried lavender, you know, for your sleeping problem.”

you didn’t know what to say besides thank you over and over, touched at his consideration and the fact that he made a blend just for you. only for you.

from then on, that special blend quickly became your favorite as it really did help you relax a bit more. he would have his blunts of choice while you settled on the special formula made just for you.

your time with hyuck definitely shifted, but it wasn’t the only thing — something in you shifted as well.

that desire you felt that first night you smoked only burns brighter and hotter — the phone calls aren’t ever enough anymore, you need to see him, to be with him. even with a busy schedule with work and other friends, you make time, because being with him feels like nothing you have ever felt before.

somewhere along the routine of monotony in your life, maybe you subconsciously pushed yourself to the back of your priorities. but with hyuck, the way he takes care of you just makes you feel so prioritized, so seen.

he remembers your favorites and preferences even if mentioned only in passing, teases you with inside jokes only he could know, follows up on any gossip or worries you share, picks you up and drops you off at home, and never lets you pay for anything — food or weed alike.

you’ve never had an easier time falling asleep, with or without weed, and you can only assume that this connection with hyuck gave you a way of navigating the anxieties and negative feelings that plagued you. he felt like your person.

you could swear jeno’s eyes could fall out of his head from how wide-eyed he stares at you as you tell him all of this, from the generous lessons to the custom blend to your complex feelings growing by the day.

“you better not tell him any of this,” you warn, but jeno’s expression is still in shock. “what is it?”

“are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? hyuck? like lee donghyuck??” jeno asks in disbelief.

“yes?? who else would i be talking about?” you’re confused by your best friend’s reaction.

“no fucking way, because the hyuck i know would never do any of that. i don’t even think he knows when my birthday is,” he says.

“to be fair, i don’t think he knows when mine is either?” you offer. jeno looks straight into your eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“no i mean to say — he doesn’t pay anyone that much attention, even his friends, and i know he’d never willingly shell out his weed money, let alone every single time you’re together,” he explains. “i thought the weed lesson was gonna be a one- or two-time thing, not a whole series.”

you didn’t think so either. the time you spend together isn’t even lesson-like anymore, with it just being smoke or tea sessions with endless conversation. there’s no clear definitions, but you know you need to ask jeno’s opinion.

“do you think he likes me? like likes me?” you ask your best friend. it feels silly to ask like that, to have feelings that makes you unable to think of anyone else.

but you ask even though you think you know. you’d be blind to not notice his actions, the look in his eyes, and johnny’s insinuations. jeno’s surprise at his special treatment of you is just further confirmation.

“honestly, in my eyes he’s down bad, but do you like him?” jeno asks, unsure if he’s liking where your conversation is going.

you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t. somewhere along the course of this whole thing, that desire that planted the first time you ever met him grew every time afterward and bloomed into something you could no longer contain.

you never tried to deny it, but you’re realizing this is your first time actually admitting it. you look down, suddenly shy under the focused gaze of your best friend.

“jen, i do. i really do like him,” you confess, entire body warming at the quiet declaration.

jeno’s quiet for a second before letting out a groan in response. you look up to see him with a hand over his face.

“what’s wrong?” you’re slightly offended at that response, but jeno just shakes his head.

“nothing, just always knew he was a corny flirt, just never thought you’d eat that up,” he muses. “he’s annoying, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“should i tell him?” you ask, hoping for advice. jeno shrugs.

“that’s up to you, i don’t know what your relationship with him looks like besides what you’ve told me,” he replies, not giving you an answer you so desperately want. “what i do know is i’ll kick his ass if he ever hurts you, and you can never replace me. got it?”

you lunge at your best friend, squeezing him affectionately and barraging him with promises of unchanging friendship.

you sit at your dining table reading the label of a little bag.

“a friend left this at mine the other day and told me to keep it, but i don’t fuck with weed so you can have it, little miss stoner,” jeno had said, giving you a bag of gummy edibles before dropping you off at home after dinner.

you thanked him for it at the time, taking it with you inside. edibles are the form of weed you are least experienced with. hyuck had explained them briefly, but you’ve never done them with him since he doesn’t really like them too much. he reasoned that smoking helps him control his intake better.

you’re feeling a little daring tonight, however. you have a lot more experience with weed now, and your tolerance has definitely risen.

though you’re a little nervous about trying them without hyuck, it’s too late to call and you feel a bit more confident at your weed capabilities. the you from the beginning of this weed journey would be surprised at how much you’ve changed.

it’s just a little gummy, how bad could it be? plus you have the next day off, kicking that worry. you pull out a single pineapple gummy, splitting it into halves before eating one. you settle into your couch, turning on your tv to let the edible kick in.

when an hour passes and you still don’t feel anything, you’re confused. you look up how long it takes for an edible to hit and check the package for an expiration date, but everything seems fine. has your tolerance risen that much?

you pick up the other half of the gummy, looking at it carefully before deciding it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more. the dosage per piece is not anything concerning, so you eat the other half without thinking too much.

when your eyes start to blur in the next 5 minutes, you know you’ve made a mistake.

you’re glued to your couch, staring at the ceiling as the high runs through your body, feeling a slight tingle from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, coming and going in intense waves. your thoughts race, and 99% of your thoughts are consumed by hyuck, hyuck, and hyuck. **

an uncertain amount of time has passed, your phone forgotten somewhere in your apartment, but you feel like you’re in an endless cycle of a million thoughts turning into no thoughts at all, all while your body is experiencing such a new, yet heavy feeling.

the smoking high is definitely different from this edible high, and you start to understand why hyuck prefers the former.

you don’t feel like you’re in control of yourself at all, and the feeling is entirely too overwhelming. the second half of that edible hits, with the high intensifying and your thoughts jumping yet again.

a feeling of dread runs through you.

you had been doing well keeping a general positive/neutral train of thought on that first half of the edible, but the second a single negative thought hits you, you find yourself unable to stop the spiral.

why did you do this to yourself? don’t you need to focus on other things? are you going to let this be another thing that drags you down? what does hyuck really think of you? do you really think he feels the same way as you?

you fight back against your own thoughts, wrestling to tell yourself that everything with him has been nothing with good, but the intensity of this high brings an entirely new side to all of this — paranoia.

hyuck had explained before that paranoia could come with being high, but you had overtime forgotten the possibility. being high has given nothing but good times and relaxation, but all of that could probably be attributed to the company you had getting there.

you don’t even realize you have tears streaming out of your eyes until your hand comes back wet after rubbing your face.

it’s all too much, and more than anything your mind screams that you need hyuck.

you force yourself to get up, hazy eyes looking for your phone, spotting it on the dining table.

12:27am. hyuck should still be awake gaming, and you can only hope that he is. you crumple to the floor as you quickly find his contact and call him.

only one ring passes when he picks up.

“what’s up, sunshine?” his voice rings through the speaker and you can hear the click of his mouse and keyboard in the background. immediately a sense of relief washes through your body, slightly breaking through the high and has the tears flowing harder than before.

“h-hyuck,” you sob, and immediately the sound of clicking stops.

“are you crying? what’s wrong? are you okay?” his concern makes you want to cry even more, but more than that you want him here with you.

“hyuck, i-i took an edible and i think i took too much and i’m so overwhelmed right now — i can’t stop thinking and crying and i’m just so scared,” you weep, and you hear rustling coming from the phone and the clinking of keys before you’re even done with your sentence.

“stay on the phone with me, baby, i’ll be right there, what’s your apartment number?”

he really knows you like the back of his hand. somehow, he knows that what you need most is him. even if he didn’t know that, the fact that he’s rushing over without you even having to ask helps you shut down the voices that tell you he doesn’t care.

10 minutes of affirmations and sweet words come as you cry, trying so desperately to hold back from telling him everything you’ve been feeling, including what you feel about him.

when his call cuts off with a knock at your front door, you stumble over to let him in, legs having fallen asleep from your position on the floor as you called him.

as soon as you open the door and see him, hair freshly washed and in a hoodie and sweats, the anxiety leaves you like a spell. his glasses are slightly fogged, and he’s catching his breath from rushing up here.

the second he gets a glimpse of your puffy eyes and tear streaked face, he comes in, enveloping you in the warmest, tightest hug.

you immediately melt into him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans back against the front door. you stay there for a few minutes, emptying your eyes out as he comforts you.

“hey, why is my pretty girl crying? what are you so scared of? i’m right here,” he coos as one arm remains securely around you as the other hand alternates between patting your head and massaging the back of your neck.

when the tears seem to have subsided, he waddles over with you still in his arms to your living room couch, and you remain firmly attached to him. he checks your face for anymore tears, and when he finds none, sits you on the couch to get you some water.

“where are your cups?” he asks, checking the cabinets, and you tell him there’s bottles in the fridge. you look at him from your spot on the couch, and immediately feel your heart pang.

this is the first time he’s actually been inside your apartment, but you can’t help but think that he looks so perfect here — that your living space somehow feels more complete than it ever has.

when he sits down with you, handing you tissues and water, he has a hand on your arm, rubbing up and down as you gulp down some water, only now realizing how dry your mouth is.

“so you wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours? and who you got these edibles from? because i know it wasn’t fucking me.” some agitation peeks through his otherwise neutral tone, but his eyes are serious as he waits for your answer.

you tell him about how jeno gave it to you, and hand him the package as he reads the label.

“you had one piece right? that should be fine, but it looks like you might be a bit more sensitive to this since it’s your first time with edibles.” he scolds you lightly, tapping your forehead. “still, i wish you would have called me to at least be on the phone with you when you tried it.”

“i-i wanted to, trust me. but it was late and i thought i could handle it,” you explain.

“that’s why i hate those things, only take them when i really want to feel high as shit, but look what they’ve done to you, baby,” he frowns, going back to rubbing your arms up and down. “any weed needs, you come to me, okay? don’t need my girl going to others for that when i’ve got more than enough.”

my girl.

you realize in your hazy state that his usual “sunshine” has been replaced with other, more endearing, names — my girl, my pretty girl, baby. the sound of his voice has always been addicting to you, but the affectionate names leaving his mouth take it a step further.

you want to hear more. with a boldness that could only be fueled by the weed still running its course through your system, you lean into him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“can you call me that again?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“what?” his voice right next to your ear sends chills all over your body.

“you know.. your girl.. i really like how that sounds.” immediately he’s separated from you, hands holding you at the upper arms as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“what?” he repeats again, and you could almost laugh at how shocked he looks at you mentioning a name he called you.

“your girl.. or baby too..” you say, dazed. you are definitely coming down from your high, but the ensuing sleepiness is making you even more honest. but more than anything, you want to be honest with him right now.

“wanna be your baby, hyuck.”

he lets out a pained groan at your words, running a hand over his face.

“__, you’re high as fuck. you don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, bottom lip between his teeth.

“i know what i’m saying,” you hook your finger around his chain, tugging him a little closer. “i want you to be my baby, too.”

you lean in, closing the distance between you as your faces hover just centimeters from each other. hyuck holds his breath, eyes darting from your glossy eyes down to your lips. he can’t help it, eyes getting hazy as you close the distance, kissing him.

he returns your energy, pressing closer to you with his hands grasping your waist. he moves to deepen the kiss, but after a few seconds the pressure on your waist increases, shutting his eyes tighter before pushing you back slightly.

“i hope you still mean this in the morning, because i want to be yours too,” he has a slightly pained smile. “but you’re so high right now, i don’t want to do anything you’d regret once you’re sober.” you whine at him trying to kiss him again while he stops you, holding your shoulders.

“don’t tempt me, you don’t know how hard you’re making this for me, baby.” he gets up, tugging you up along with him. “let’s get you to bed, sunshine.” he lets you lead him to your bedroom, his hands set on your shoulders, and you plop down on your bed, eyes already heavy.

you hold out your arms to him.

“sleep here tonight?” you ask, and he groans after slapping a hand over his eyes.

“you’re testing me,” he chokes out. you jut out your lower lip, but your eyes threaten to shut any moment.

“i’m not testing you, i just want to wake up to you, is that too much to ask?” in his eyes, you look so cute cuddled up in your bed, eyes begging him to stay. his heart soars as he realizes the sight he’s seen in his dreams could be a reality, starting now.

“i really can’t win against you, just give me a second.” he leaves for a little while, turning off the lights throughout your apartment and making sure the front door is locked before sliding into bed with you.

he immediately pulls you by the waist closer to him, and you, drifting to sleep, cuddle into his chest.

“i won’t do anything okay? don’t worry about anything,” he promises sincerely.

“thank you hyuck.. thank you..” you mumble a bit, nuzzling into him further, sleep taking over. he just holds you tighter.

“sleep tight, sunshine.”

that’s the last thing you hear before you enter into a deep, deep sleep, feeling secure and warm wrapped up in hyuck’s arms.

you wake up to soft snoring and long arms wrapped around you, and as you rub the sleep from your eyes his face comes into full view.

hyuck is sleeping so peacefully in front of you, and if one thing remains from your raging high last night, it’s that hyuck just fits perfectly in your space, it feels overwhelmingly good in his arms, and you want him here always.

“i like you,” the words come out as a whisper as you brush some hair from his forehead. he pops one eye open, elliciting a gasp from you.

“all good, sunshine?” he asks, and you nod. in a second he’s closing the distance between you two, laying a tender kiss on your lips. his arms tighten around you as you lean into him, letting yourself indulge in his warm kisses.

“this isn’t a dream right?” you ask sleepily, and he chuckles at the way you open and close your eyes to see if he’s still there.

“you dream about me?” he grins, and you hide your face back in his chest, nodding slowly. “good, because i dream about you too.”

any sleepiness you had has dissipated completely, and you feel like your heart would explode if you met his eyes right now. his hand, however, meets your chin to tilt your head back up.

“i like you too, by the way, if it wasn’t already obvious,” and with his own confession he meets your lips once more.

it takes a while for the two of you to get out of bed, with both of you dozing off and on, sharing lazy kisses and cuddles until hyuck’s stomach starts rumbling.

“maybe we should get something to eat?” you suggest, starting to slip off the blanket. he’s quick to try and stop you, but before he can catch you you’ve stood up, tugging hyuck by the arm.

“5 more minutes, pleaaaase,” he whines, arm going limp at your efforts to get him up.

“it’s already almost dinnertime, hyuck,” you check your phone, surprised at how much time has passed. his glasses sit next to your phone on the nightstand. while you’re distracted, he sits up at the edge of the bed, looking at you with a darker expression.

his hands trail down your waist, squeezing lightly once he reaches your hips. you drop your phone to be met with his hooded eyes trained on your lips. his eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches as he tightens his grip on your hips.

“i think i’d like to eat something else,” he whispers, leaning into your neck, peppering kisses from the bottom of your chin down your throat. you let out a surprised whimper at the sensation, chills running down your arms.

you move your head down, wanting to kiss him, and as if he reads your mind, his lips meet yours with a passion mirroring the one from the night before.

“lay down, let me get my fill, sunshine,” he urges, feeling himself already incredibly hard at the thought of himself between your legs.

“we’ve been in bed all day, we should take showers and eat first or something,” you start, but you’re cut off with a sharp tug, hyuck pulling you beside him. he sinks to his knees by your legs hanging off the bed.

“later, i need you so bad, you have no idea.” his hands move under your shirt as he loops his hands in the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“do you want this, baby?” he asks as you lean back on your arms, meeting his pleading eyes from his spot between your legs. you gnaw on your lip, already feeling the dampness on your panties. you do want this. so bad.

“i want you, hyuck,” you give him the go ahead. he’s more than willing to give you everything you want and more. he pulls your shorts down your legs, groaning at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear.

he pulls that off as well, spreading your lips with his pointer and middle fingers as he admires your core.

“stop staring, it’s embarrassing,” you look away, hips shifting as you feel yourself getting more and more turned on by the second.

“just admiring, baby,” he states warmly, glancing up at your embarrassed expression as he wraps his arms around your legs, hands digging in as he grabs at the flesh of your thighs.

he leans in, licking a stripe from your entrance up to your clit, ending his trail with a swirl of your bud. you moan out at the sensation, clutching at your sheets as he really gets his fill.

he’s messy, tongue going from prodding at your entrance to his face moving side to side over your clit. a growl leaves his throat as he feels your hands move to grip his hair.

“you don’t even know what you were doing to me last night, baby,” he groans into your cunt. “had me going fucking crazy.”

one of his arms unwraps from your thigh, hand pushing at your legs to keep them spread as his long fingers prod at your entrance, one entering you slowly as you grip his hair even tighter. he drags it in and out of you in time with the circles he licks around your clit.

“you’re my baby, right?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through you. he inserts another finger into your entrance and curls them into you, feeling around for a spot that will get you moving just right. he’s stretching you out so well, getting you prepared, wanting you to feel good.

you can’t even respond, already feeling your mind start to wander off, feeling a high so different from every other one he’s shown you. he finds a spot that makes you squeal just a bit higher, and he pistons his fingers in and out to hit that spot just right.

“where’s my sunshine from last night? the one hanging on to me, cute as fuck,” he recalls your high state, how you just melted into him in a different way from how he had you now.

“come on, one more time, don’t you remember? wanna be your baby, hyuck,” raising his voice to a teasing tone in a half-hearted imitation of you. his fingers don’t falter in the slightest.

“please sunshine, let me hear that again?” your mouth, open from the cries leaving you, can’t form any words. he leans down to lay a hard suck on your clit, sending you over the edge as you cry out, legs clamping down on his head as he rides out your orgasm.

he detaches from you as your legs drop, and he stands up between them to get a full view of you fucked out for him.

“fuck, baby, you look so fucking good right now. straight out of my dreams.” he palms himself over his sweats, feeling like he could burst any second, before ripping off his hoodie.

the sight of him standing over you, silver chain lying on his bare chest, is also something out your own dreams. you can feel yourself clench seeing his cock straining through his sweats. you catch your breath, mustering the energy squeeze him between your thighs.

in a second he’s pulling his sweats down, hard member slapping his stomach as he lays it on top of your core, admiring how it looks on your body.

“does my pretty girl need to be filled up?” he teases, pushing your legs up as he starts to tease at your entrance with his tip. you want it so bad, need it.

“then let me hear it, you’re my baby, right?” he lets his tip catch onto your entrance as you gasp.

“f-fuck, hyuck, i’m your baby! i’m your ba-” the second half of the word comes out as a shriek at the feeling of him entering you, bottoming out right away thanks to his prep. the feeling of being so full winds you, stealing the air from your lungs.

he hisses as your pussy grips him, throwing his head up. you can see the vein on his neck protruding, thick neck strained as he tries to get himself in check.

“relax for me, please baby,” he pleads through gritted teeth, circling your clit. “can’t move like this, i’ll cum too soon.”

you breathe in and out as the two of you try to reel it in, and his hips start to move slowly as he feels you adjust to him.

“you’ve been my baby since the day we met,” he breathes out. “since the time you told me you could take it.”

his voice has always been addicting, over the phone, in person, sober or high, but the way he talks to you in this moment just stirs something in your gut. you can’t stop yourself from clenching at his words.

“oh, you like when i talk to you like that?” he pulls out to push you up so your legs are no longer hanging off the bed, making his way to hover above you as he re-enters you.

“you’ve always been so good for me, always so eager to learn, always so willing to take everything i give you,” he lowers himself as he says this straight into your ear. his hips pick up the pace again, hissing at the clench from his words.

“can you, f-fuck, can you take it now?” he breathes out as he feels himself reaching you deeper and deeper.

“i-i can take it, hyuck, i can take it,” you moan out, tears pricking at your eyes as you shut them tight. he’s fucking you so well, and you can only moan as you do just that — take everything he’s giving you.

“you know ’d never do any of this for anyone else, o-only you baby, just wanna make my girl happy,” your heart clenches at his words along with your pussy.

“thought m-my heart was gonna stop when, shit, w-when you called me crying,” his words come out more choked as his hips rut against yours more desperately, starting to feel his own high coming.

“need to be with you a-always, be the only reason you’re crying.” you can only chant his name and yes as you feel the band in your stomach start to get tighter and tighter.

“i’d fucking do anything for you, i’m yours,” he chokes out, and your nails dig into his back.

“i’m your baby, i’m yours, i’m yours,” you repeat, brain unable to form anything else. his kisses your neck before moving his head back above you, his chain swinging against your face as his pelvic bone slaps against your clit harshly.

he moves his head up to kiss you deeply, messy remnants of your own arousal still on his toungue. the bed is creaking under the harsh movements as you get closer and closer.

tears stream down the sides of your face as the band snaps, sending you hurling over the edge as your back arches, gripping onto him tightly.

he curses under his breath repeatedly, hips stuttering to push through the tightness as he cums inside with a loud groan, pushing his head into your neck as he fills you up completely.

he goes limp on top of you, lying there for a bit as you both catch your breath. his softening cock is still inside of you, and you can feel yourself getting drowzy until his stomach rumbles.

he hisses as he pulls out, rolling over to lie down next to you. you turn your head to look at him, entire body spent. your eyes meet his, so soft and full of awe. he looks just as worn, but little do you know, he’s just getting started.

“round 2 after dinner?”

the next morning, a half-asleep hyuck nuzzles you to wake you up, having set an alarm for your work shift.

“sleep okay, sunshine?” his morning voice is deep and groggy, and it’s taking everything in you to not call out for the day.

you feel pretty well rested until you realize how sore your entire body is as soon as you try to wiggle out of his bear hug. his arms wrapped around you are unmoving as he tries unsuccessfully to fully wake himself up as well.

forcing yourself to sit up, you rub your sore back. his hands are still stubbornly attached to your form.

“like a baby,” you reply. you grab your phone, checking your schedule for today, concluding that it’s flexible enough to take a sick day. you text your manager, settling back into hyuck’s arms as you tell him you’re staying home. eyes still half-closed, he presses kisses into every part of your face his lips can find.

“good.” his response is simple as he speaks with his actions, pulling you in closer as the two of you drift back into sleep.

you’re content knowing that your mission to get rid of your sleeping problem was a 100% success, in more ways than just through weed, and that it’s ending with you having more than you could have asked for.

end.

a/n: if you got to the end, thank you so much for reading!!! i know i say this about every fic i've written, but this one was truly truly self-indulgent. it's my first full fic for my ult, longest fic yet, and a birthday present to myself :')

i really appreciate all the support for everything even though i have long gaps between releases. i have had sm fun, and i hope you all enjoy!! this one's more plot than porn but it's def getting a pt2 that's the opposite (it's already planned). thank you again, feedback always loved and appreciated!!

disclaimer: know your limits when consuming weed of any kind. also not all edibles are bad and can be so chill, just for my personal experience my own tolerance of edibles is low compared to smoking 😭 reactions/tolerances vary among people (edibles work better than smoking for many!) but pls be in safe place or with trusted people if you are trying weed for the first time !!!

-coco ♡

[star-girl69]

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: you and clarisse broke up two months ago, and when you’re selected to go on a mission together, clarisse just wants you to let her love you.

a/n: i feel feelings about this one….. anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Let Me Love You Like A Woman - Lana Del Rey

******i want to make this clear: there is absolutely NO smut in this fic. terms like “fuck buddies” and “friends with benefits” are used but only bc i cant think of anything else lmao. all they do is makeout and it is suggestive at times but there is NO SMUT

warnings: this is so bad tbh, what is clarisse doing, she’s so confused my little ladybug, y/n my other ladybug is confused too, OH MY GOD THERES ONLY ONE BED, swearing, hate make out sessions but the hate is one sided, kissing obvi!, deep talks about our feelings which is hard for clarisse, angst, mentions of death blood and monsters, lovesick!! slightly desperate!!! clarisse my cutesy little ladybug, exes/enemies w benefits so like mentions of sex and such, very suggestive lol, as an actual server the restaurant scene hurt me to write lol, but for the plot, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The Big House is the one place in camp you’re really unfamiliar with. It’s not like you haven’t been there before, it’s just you don’t go there that often.

And unknown places scare you.

There’s hiding places you don’t know about, blind spots you aren’t aware of- corners and small secrets and rules that you haven’t learned yet.

You make your way up the steps and through the porch, the familiar part- you pass by the infirmary and the random office no one uses- until you make it to the connected gondola Chiron and Mr. D. spend most of their time at.

You’re about to turn and enter when a familiar figure appears in front of you.

It hurts to think about how you’ll always know it’s her.

She seems just as shocked to see you but covers it up quickly.

“Y/N,” she smirks, looking you up and down.

You stop, go to turn around and march off in the other direction when you remember you can’t.

Clarisse La Rue doesn’t deserve the dirt under your feet, even though she would probably eat it if you asked- charmspeak used or not.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, and she frowns. You never really called her by her name when you dated, and you know it bothers her now to hear you say it.

That’s exactly why you do it, of course, but the part of you that knows everything about her and will always love her squeezes at the sight of her poorly-hidden sad face.

She’s been slipping up lately. It warms your heart to know that’s because of you.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, genuinely curious.

As a cabin leader, it’s not unusual for Clarisse to be here. But she knows you’re scared of the unknown, and she knows it’s just not in your routine to come here.

“Dunno,” you shrug. “Got called here.”

Her eyes light up. “How funny, so did I.”

You roll your eyes, fighting against the parts of your body that want to run towards her and the parts that want to run away. Instead, you listen to your brain and feel her staring at you as you turn the corner into the gondola.

“Y/N, Clarisse,” Chiron greets with a pleasant smile, setting down a hand of cards face-down. You almost laugh at Mr. D’s disappointed look- Chiron isn’t the trainer of demigods for no reason.

“Yeah, yeah, welcome,” Mr D says, seeming entirely uninterested. You both stand there slightly awkwardly.

Chiron is known to be blunt, so he of course jumps right in.

“We have a mission for the two of you.”

“The two of us? Like, just the two of us?”

The words come out before you can stop them, fingers twisting together and mouth slamming shut. You’re fine, you try to tell yourself, even though your mind and body agree on one thing- being too close to Clarisse will just lead you right back to her.

Clarisse tries to hide her hopeful smile, but you see through it. You loved her for so long, of course you see through it.

“Uh… yes,” Chiron says. You clench your fists.

Mr D seems interested now, especially after your outburst.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I see.” He gestures between the two of you, “there’s bad blood.”

Chiron presses his lips together.

“Nothing that doesn’t make us capable of going on this mission,” Clarisse says, taking a step forward. She smiles at you, but doesn’t make a move to touch you. At least she knows some limits, even if they don’t matter now.

“Well,” Chiron continues, seeming to regret his decision but deciding it’s too late. “Y/N. Your charmspeak, I feel, will be extremely important to this mission. And, Clarisse, daughter of Ares- your skills in battle are nothing to scoff at. There is an item I require the retrieval of. A friend left it in a P.o. box in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The journey is not particularly perilous, but being a demigod carries an affinity for danger.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I trust the two of you will be able to put aside your… ‘bad blood’ and complete your mission?”

Maybe this mission will be good for you. It certainly nowhere near the kleos of a quest, but more so gives you bonus points with Chiron. That could be helpful.

Clarisse looks at you.

“Oh, yes. Don’t worry.”

—-

“Y/N.”

You walk away from Clarisse pointedly, hoping she’ll take the hint.

You’ve decided you’ll do this quest. If you ever did want to be a cabin leader in the future- you either had to be well liked or the best. As a daughter of Aphrodite, you were already well liked- conversation and flattery came as easy to you as breathing.

Even before you learned how to use your charmspeak, you could sweet talk almost anyone into doing whatever you wanted. You really needed an A on that test? A few tears and some master manipulation- suddenly that A was yours.

But, Chiron needed to like you too.

You do this quest for him- which he choose you for- and then you earn even more of his respect.

It was such a simple exchange. It could be such a simple exchange, except if the girl hot on your heels wasn’t your partner.

She finally manages to grab your wrist and whip you back around so you’re facing her.

She smiles.

“I’ll always catch you, you know. No use in running, really.”

“At least I’ll go down fighting,” you say, looking anywhere but her eyes like portals that suck you in. She’s so close to you.

If this was the before you would wrap your arms around her neck and hers would go to your waist. Even if you were mad at her, she would press her body close to yours and kiss the corner of your lips- Clarisse made it her life’s mission to know every inch of you, and she succeeded. She would know the exact way to calm you down and get you to look at her and hear her out.

And most of the time you were being dramatic, or simply joking, and then she would kiss you and it would all be fine again.

Except it’s not the before. It’s the after, and your heart hurts being so close to her.

“What do you want, Clarisse?” you sigh.

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Your chest blazes. “Go talk to literally anyone else.”

Her face hardens.

“How many times do I have to tell you before you understand that you are the only person I care about?”

You rip your hand away from her grip.

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning and walking away.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at the gates,” you can feel her smile. “And then I’ll see you all on our mission, huh?”

“You’re crazy!”

—-

You walk into the Hermes cabin and fall face first onto your best friend Marley’s bed.

She looks up from her book and laughs.

“Oh, babe, what happened?” she asks, scratching the back of your scalp as you pull yourself up into your elbows and place your head in her lap.

“Mission,” you groan.

She stops. “A mission? For Chiron? Gods, Y/N that’s amazing-”

“With Clarisse.”

She takes her hand away from your scalp and moves to your chin, lifting you up.

As much as Clarisse hurt you and you hate her, Marley had always had a special sort of hatred for her. Even when you were happy and dating- you would tease her that maybe she’s actually a daughter of Ares, seeing how angry she was.

She was always overprotective, she insisted she just had a bad feeling about her- but eventually she stopped and you thought you could have it all.

“I’m sorry,” Marley laughs. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

You put your lips right up to her ear.

“MISSION WITH CLARISSE-”

“Y/N!” she yells and pushes you away, groaning as she holds her ear. “My ears are bleeding now, oh my Gods-”

“You’ll be fine,” you groan, settling back into her lap. “I’m the one who actually has to go with her.”

“Actually?” she whispers after a tense moment. “You actually have to go with her?”

“It’s fine,” you mumble.

“It’s not. Maybe I-I can talk to Chiron, or maybe I could come with you, huh?”

“No, thanks, Marls. It’s alright, really.”

She stares down at you, head tilted slightly to the side. Marley has always been exceptionally good at hiding her emotions. But you can tell she’s angry. She’s scared.

She’s your best friend and you will always love her in the most special way.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers.

The Hermes cabin is always a bustle of activity. But when you’re just here with Marley, it’s the two of you. It’s perfect. It’s what you’ve always wanted- selfishly- to feel special. You feel special with her eyes on you, your head in her lap. She’s your best friend.

You put your hand on her face.

“As much as I hate it, we both know Clarisse won’t let anything happen to me. I’ll be safe.”

“Yeah, but what if she does something to you?”

What if she does absolutely nothing and you fall in love with her all over again?

You always thought that all that stuff about feeling your heart physically break couldn’t be true- but you know it is. You felt it break and every time you look at Clarisse and it can’t be like it was before your heart breaks a little more.

Clarisse acted like you were some big secret that was a chore to hide, and then when you were in her arms she would call you the prettiest girl. It was like whiplash, feeling her touch so tenderly and then not even being allowed to look at her in public. And you wanted so badly to tell everyone that she was yours and you were hers- but she just couldn’t.

And you don’t care about the reason behind that, not after that one night, not after she told you she could never love you.

She doesn’t really want you. She acts like she does, but she only misses you on the surface. Sure, you miss her body, but you miss your late night talks and the way she was always there to protect you, the way she made you feel. You like the person you are with her.

She wants an idea of you, she wants you under her, she wants power and control.

You think maybe a part of her really does regret losing you that night. But, she laid it all out that night. What she feels doesn’t make up for what she said. She doesn’t love you because she’s insecure, because she’s self-serving and power hungry.

She makes you feel stupid waiting for her, but why would you wait for someone else when you could wait for her to come back? You don’t like the unknown, and Clarisse is the one thing you really know.

You look into Marley’s eyes now.

“It will be good for me,” you whisper. “I’ll earn Chiron’s respect.”

Marley kisses your cheek.

“I know. I just don’t want you to go, and I know that makes me selfish but- still.”

“I know, Marls. I know,” you whisper. But this will be good for you, and it’s already been done. You already accepted it.

Marley helps you pack and you watch her anger. You watch her roughness, you watch the fire in her eyes- and Gods, does it make you feel special to have a friend like her.

You only wish you could make Clarisse feel like that too.

—-

The bus ride is boring.

Clarisse, for some merciful reason, decides not to torture you and instead throw her dagger up and down.

But you’re bored.

You’ve been reading a book Marley lended you, something boring and wonderfully distracting about the history of the four wind gods- you think about the wind and not about the way Clarisse’s thigh is pressed up next to yours.

It’s only been two months.

As much as you hate it, you won’t even admit it to Marley, but you’ll admit it to yourself in the quietness of the back of the bus.

You close the book and stuff it into your backpack.

You miss her.

“I’m bored,” you announce before you can second guess yourself.

“Okay,” Clarisse hums, picking at a speck of hardened dirt on her dagger. “I know a lot of things we could do to remedy that.”

Your cheeks flush, but you hold your ground. “I’m not going to kiss you. One, it smells like shit back here and two, we’re not dating anymore.”

“True, but doesn’t that just make it more fun?”

“What?”

Her hand moves to your thigh and you let yourself sink into the before.

“We aren’t supposed to- your best-fuckin’-friend would skin me alive. But we both know you want to.”

“I don’t want my lips anywhere near you.”

She just smiles at you, and you suddenly realize you’ve been staring into her eyes this entire time.

She takes her hand off of you and turns away, and this part of you aches so badly for the before- but it’s after. But she doesn’t love you and she just wants you.

But you want her too. You want her so bad, and maybe if you just let yourself sink into her one more time then you can move on. One good goodbye and you’ll be fine.

“Take a nap, then,” she suggests. “We still have another hour before the next rest stop, I’ll wake you up.”

“Okay,” you mumble, a part of you loathing listening to her, but a nap sounds good.

—-

You sleep the best you ever have since you broke up.

Clarisse was always sneaking into your bed, or you into hers, and she was always so warm and made you feel so safe. You always slept with her. And while you could still fall asleep fine without her- it just wasn’t the same.

You wake up to the sound of the bus doors opening and people talking around you.

“Y/N,” Clarisse whispers. “Wake up.”

You realize your head is on her shoulder.

You push her away from you, she just laughs and stands up.

“So stubborn,” she mumbles, leaning down to dig into her bag for the money Chiron gave you.

You resist the urge to say something snarky back, instead choosing to squeeze past her and out into the aisle.

She’s following behind you in a second, her bag zipping up and getting thrown back under the seat.

She’s right up in your ear.

“I know you hate me,” she whispers. “But you can’t just go running off. What if there was a monster right outside the doors?”

The two of you step off of the bus, the bright sunshine making your squint.

You pull up your shirt and pat your hip where your dagger rests.

“I’d kill it.”

You both know you probably couldn’t.

She laughs. “Is that the dagger I gave you?”

Your face freezes but you keep walking into the rest stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huff.

She sticks her fingers through the loop of your jeans and pulls you into an aisle filled with chips. You suddenly find a bag of Cheetos very interesting.

She looks at your face, into your eyes, and traces her fingers over the dagger’s handle.

“Hm, mine.”

You miss her so bad. You never knew it was possible to miss someone this much. You miss her body and her mind and her voice. You miss her hands and her lips and the way she made you feel.

You don’t pull away. How can you pull away?

It was easy to ignore her when she wasn’t right in front of you, but there’s this part of you that loves her and wants to believe her. Then there’s another part that wants to see her suffer like she did to you.

You push her off of you. “Don’t touch me.”

Again, she just smiles, and that’s really starting to piss you off.

—-

You’re somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania at a bus stop, waiting to cross the lonesome highway to the other side of the street where a train station awaits you.

“Are you okay?” Clarisse asks, and you realize she’s already stepped out onto the road and you’ve been staring off into nothing. You quickly follow her, half running across the road until you get to the sweet, sweet air conditioned station.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

In reality, you have to keep yourself distracted so you don’t fall back into her. You’ve decided it not about whether or not you love or want to hear her out- it’s about the way she kisses you and the way her skin feels against yours.

You can want her, here, where no one will know.

You’ll swear her to secrecy, and she’ll shut up just for the chance of more. And you don’t know if you’ll give it to her.

The station is oddly busy.

You have this horribly uneasy feeling.

You make your way into the line anyways, snatching the tickets from where they’re scrunched up in her hand, trying your best to flatten them again.

She laughs. You refuse to feel the way it makes your heart ache. You think about the other reasons she makes your heart ache.

You see something, shiny and black out of the corner of your eye. When you look over, the indented entrance to a janitor’s closet is marked in shadows.

But you trust yourself.

“I think I just saw something,” you whisper.

She still makes you feel safe. She’s one of the most talented warriors at camp and she loves you- even Marley admitted she won’t let anything happen to you.

She follows your gaze. And she doesn’t see anything.

“Okay,” she murmurs. She trusts you too. Her eyes flick between the shortening line and the shadows. “Maybe one more minute then we’re on the train.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slipping your hand into hers. You can hear her inhale sharply. She’s not phased by a potential monster, but you holding her hand makes her face flush.

Why is she so fucking confusing?

As far as you can tell, she just wants to be fuck buddies- so why is she blushing as you hold her hand?

She squeezes your hand, and Clarisse is right, you make it to the front of the line. The man checks your tickets and hole punches them, welcoming you back into the outdoors.

You look over your shoulder, and something shiny reflects in the sunlight, still in the shadows of the building.

“Clarisse.”

She seems to see it too.

“I can’t tell what it is,” you say.

She tugs you along. “I don’t want to find out.”

When you finally step foot onto the train you take your hand from Clarisse’s and look down at the tickets. Cabin 4A. It’s near the front, so you find it fairly quick- just a simple one room cabin.

You quickly barricade yourself inside, drawing the curtains and setting your stuff on the floor.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That was tense,” you mutter. Clarisse holds her wrist. She nods, staring down at your feet before sighing.

Somehow, it’s six o’clock. You dig into your snacks, neither of you feeling like leaving the safety of the cabin to go to the dining cart.

The train car has two benches facing each other, overhead storage and a large window. There’s practically no room in between the two benches- the car is maybe 5 feet wide.

You miss Marley. You could always talk to her from across the pavilion during a meal- entire conversations with just your eyes. You miss your siblings, their conversation filling up the silence. Here, there’s nothing.

It’s so silent, and yet it’s that comfortable silence with Clarisse. It makes you miss the before.

That’s all you’ve been doing- missing things and wishing they were different.

The train starts and you stare out the window, the rolling hills and the trees and the small creek. You can feel Clarisse looking at you. You try your best to ignore the way her gaze makes you feel- but you’re alone in this cabin. There’s no one else here. There’s no one else to know if you give in one time.

Something slams against the door.

You breathe in and Clarisse grabs her spear.

“Should I open it?” you whisper, standing up. She sticks out her spear to stop you from moving forward.

The two of you listen, but nothing else happens.

It wasn’t a knock. It sounded sort of like a ball being kicked into the door.

“I’m opening it,” you decide, curiosity killing you, pushing Clarisse’s spear aside.

“Y/N,” she warns, but you’ve already slid open the door.

Absolutely nothing is there. You look out the adjacent windows, down the hallways lined with red carpet.

You shrug. “Nothing’s here-”

It’s cold and scaly when it lands on you.

The same black shiny thing you saw, it’s slithering around your neck, cutting off your air supply immediately. You can’t even scream you’re too scared, hands clawing at your neck but it squeezes and one of its heads rears up to attack your chest-

Clarisse’s spear sails right through its raised head.

It drops, you fall back, gasping, watching as she pins it under her boot and lifts the spear out of it. It’s wriggling and trying to break free- but she stabs it through its other head.

It’s an amphisbaena. A horrible, scaly black snake-sort of thing with a head on each end.

You rub your chest, swallowing a lump in your throat as Clarisse casually picks up the now dead monster and opens the adjacent emergency exit window in the hallway- throwing it out into the middle of nowhere.

She turns back around, frowning at the blood coating the ends of her spear-

You slam into her. You’re breathing so heavily, you still feel like it’s around your neck, but Clarisse carefully wraps her arms around your waist, letting you lean against her as your shaky hands massage your neck.

No one would know.

Her spear falls to the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s dead,” she whispers, kicking the cabin door closed with her foot.

No one would know.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “Oh, Gods, thank you, Clarisse.”

“No problem,” she says.

No one would know.

“Clar,” you mumble. She stiffens at the nickname. She tenderly brings one hand up to your face, and she wants you just as much as you want her- that’s all this is about. An exchange. You’ll kiss her for the last time and you’ll finally get over her.

“I know,” she mumbles, she feels the burning in her stomach too. You’re connected by that in this one moment, your mutual desire and need. Except she has a need for a new beginning, and you have a need for an end.

It’s so simple.

You both can get what you want from this trip.

“I know,” she says again, her nose touching yours. Your breaths mix in the air. “I know, I miss you so much… so bad, Y/N, you don’t…”

“Show me,” you whisper against her lips, and she does.

You can feel it all, the regret you don’t care about, and the desire and want and need you do care about.

You need to feel more of that. You need to feel special, so when your back hits the the door and her hands are all over you, you tilt your head back and look up at the ceiling, mouth twisted into a moan.

You need her to make you feel special. You don’t feel special without her, without her rough hands and her soft lips. It’s the one trait from your mother that you somewhat despise- the innate need to be the center, to be the focus, to feel special. She’s the only one who has ever made you feel like this.

No one else will ever come close.

“I hate you,” you breathe. You can’t think, all your walls are down. “I hate you so much and I still…. I still…”

She kisses you again so you don’t have to say it.

—-

The bed is scratchy and uncomfortable, but there’s only one- and it’s so tiny you’re pressed right up against Clarisse. She doesn’t wrap her arm around you, even though you wish she would, if only because you’re cold.

Not because you’re still irrecoverably in love with her and you know she won’t. And even if she does, it won’t be in the way you want it.

How can she kiss you like she loves you yet claim she never will? How can one kiss make you so weak in the knees that you’re genuinely considering doing this for any scrap of her you can get?

You stare up the ceiling for a long time, until you come to that weird space where you’re so tired you can’t move and your eyes are closed, but you’re still awake.

She wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your temple.

—-

The next time she kisses you you’ve gotten used to this whole making out with no strings thing.

You’re about to get off the train, so you tidy your stuff and head to the dining cart for pretty pastries and bagels and some fruit. On your way back, maybe 15 minutes left in your ride, someone in a uniform sees two teenage girls heading alone into a room.

When he asks where your parents are, can he see your tickets, you panic and charmspeak him to forget he ever saw this and walk away.

“Close,” you laugh, and Clarisse mumbles some sort of noncommittal agreement before smashing her lips onto yours.

You gasp but kiss her back, just reveling in having her hands on you. Her hands tangle in your hair, tugging back so she has better access to your neck- the side of it already sporting a hickey from last night.

“Did I ever tell you how fucking hot you are when you use your charmspeak?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, because you can’t think of anything when her lips are on your neck.

—-

The station is luckily only 20 minutes away from the P.o. box, so the walk is quick through the streets of Myrtle Beach. It’s so loud here. There’s cars constantly whizzing past you, people yelling and honking, sirens in the distance. It’s confusing. It’s so different from Camp.

“I fucking hate this place,” you mumble, fidgeting with a loose string on your backpack.

“I do too,” Clarisse answers, but not for the same reasons. Her eyes whip around, searching for anything hiding in the shadows- but the sky is so blue and the sun makes your skin so warm- it seems unfathomable that any monsters would be here.

Of course, they’re here. They just haven’t come out yet.

Clarisse has been angry at the world for as long as you can remember, but you always thought her roughness balanced out with your softness. Ares and Aphrodite, love and war, peace and violence.

You always thought you could bring out that little bit of softness in her.

“On your left!”

Clarisse drags you out of the way just for a man on a bike to speed past you- your eyes flick to the perfectly usable bike lane on the street.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“Asshole!” Clarisse shouts after him at the same time. He flips you off and continues shouting at more people to move.

Her hand is digging into your arm. She lets go after she huffs, muttering a few more choice words.

She keeps glaring at every honking car and random pedestrian. You roll your eyes when she yells at some random car to go die, laughing.

“Always fuckin’ honking,” she mutters. You know if she ever got behind the wheel, she would do the exact same thing.

“You’re not any better,” you tell her, nudging her hand that’s currently balled up into a fist.

“Yeah, well, I have a reason to be mad.”

Clarisse is angry at the world, but you know she has reasons. She’s not just angry for the sake of being angry, although she finds comfort in the familiar just like you, she is angry at the world that has done nothing but wrong her time and time again.

Sometimes you wish you could have as much fire in you as her. And two months ago, you thought she had enough fire in her for the both of us.

“Why don’t we grab the box and then go to lunch?” you suggest, getting the feeling that Clarisse is about to explode. She looks at you. “We have a few hours until our train back, hm?”

“Yeah, okay.”

—-

Chiron said this mission wasn’t going to be that dangerous, but you are surprised when it really is that easy. You take the key out from the envelope Chiron gave you, opening the blue box and coming out with a small box. It almost looks like some sort of fancy necklace- a long black box with a silver bow on the outside.

“This feels too easy,” Clarisse says as you lean down to carefully place it in your bag.

You shrug. “You’re always so paranoid, just let it all come naturally. Some things are easy, Clar.”

She stares at you for a moment.

“I guess,” she says, sticking out her hand to help you up before you both make your way back out onto the streets.

Her spear is hidden by the mist, strapped to her back, and you’re sure she has a bunch of little daggers strapped all over her. You scan the busy street.

Clarisse snorts at a restaurant called “Mother Earth Green Food” and her eyes light up at the sight of a 80’s style diner- “Mr. Steve’s Burgers and Bacon”.

“We’re going there,” she declares, and you roll your eyes but follow her across the street. It’s not that busy, seeing as it’s still early, so you’re seated quickly. It feels so good and so wrong to be here across from her like this.

It feels like before. Except some sort of alternate reality, where you actually left camp and got to be like this. You still want her and your trip’s not over yet, so you sink into it.

“Hey guys, I’m Miley and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you for drinks?”

She’s got long dirty blonde hair, tied up in two very neat and impressive space buns. Her skin is tan, but you suppose if she lives near the beach then everyone’s skin is tan, really.

“I really like your hair,” you tell her, pointing to the side of her head. She smiles and bounces one of them in her hand.

“Took me forever,” she chuckles. “I love yours, such a pretty color.” You cheeks blush as you thank her.

She smiles at you and goes off to get them, so you turn back to your menu. Clarisse’s foot taps against the floor.

“What are you thinking of getting?”

She sets her menu down and points to some sort of monstrous burger called “The Bomb.”

You laugh. “The Bomb,” you mock. “Will it explode in your stomach, or something?”

She mumbles something under her breath, staring off towards the counter, and you can tell by the look on her face it’s not anything nice.

“What was that?”

She presses her lips together. “Nothing,” she hums.

You shoot her an odd look but she pointedly looks away, and as much as you want to, you decide not to push.

Miley comes back with your drinks, and you thank her as she sets them down. Clarisse mumbles a thank you too after you kick her foot.

“Okay, and what can I get you guys to eat today?”

You have to kick Clarisse again to remind her to say please.

You smile apologetically up at Miley for Clarisse’s sour mood, but she seems not to care, smiling back at you and saying something about how she’ll make sure it’s out quick for you.

“‘I’ll make sure it comes out quick for you,’” Clarisse mocks, her voice a pitch higher.

“Yeah. Isn’t she so nice? And yet here you are treating her like shit.”

“She’s sucking up for a good tip.”

“Or maybe she’s just nice, Clarisse. There are nice people in the world, you know. Not everyone is all dark and brooding or bitchy.”

The silences stretches for a second too long. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You hum, sitting on your hands and staring out the window. It’s times like this your miss your mortal childhood, having access to electronics meant you were never bored. You debate taking out the book Marley loaned you, but you don’t get the chance to.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Clarisse announces. “Come with me.” She’s already walking away.

“Who’s gonna watch our stuff?”

“Tell fuckin’ Miley to do it, I don’t care.”

You look around. There’s not many people in the restaurant, and you’re curious and bored- so you follow her. The door swings closed behind her, and it takes you a second to follow her in.

You think she’s disappeared, the bathroom empty with two open stalls. The door is kicked closed behind you. You turn around and Clarisse pushes you into the nearest bathroom, her hands on your waist- you moan in surprise, letting her flip the two of you around and press you against the door, her hand leaving your waist to make quick work of the lock.

“Clarisse,” you breathe. “What’s going on?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

You don’t answer and she kisses you deeper.

—-

“Clarisse.”

She’s been smiling at your neck a little too obviously, and when she finally lets you out from under her lips and hands, you immediately turn around and head for the mirror.

“Clarisse,” you repeat.

She’s looking at you in the mirror and smiling. Actually fucking smiling.

“What is wrong with you?!” you yell, turning on the cold water and frantically bringing it to the red hickies on your neck. “Are you a vampire? Oh, my Gods, Clarisse, this is so fucking embarrassing!”

“It’s not,” she huffs. “You’ll be fine.”

“Cl-” but she’s already left. She really has to stop doing that.

—-

Lunch is fine, you leave Miley a nice tip, even though Clarisse scoffs and mumbles that she wasn’t that good- but you feel so bad that she had to watch you wiggle in your seat, desperately trying to hide your neck as Clarisse ran her foot up and down the side of your leg.

You ignore her the entire walk to the station, she barely hides the smug look on her face. Is she just intent on making you seem stupid and weak? Does she want to embarrass you? She knows. She knows you’re still in love with her and she’s playing you like a fiddle.

You thought Clarisse to be a lot of things, and you know she’s cruel and ruthless- but you never thought she could be this way towards you.

You make it onto the train with no problems, and you’re desperate to just get out of this place and back to camp where you can ignore her. You had one last final hurrah, and now you need to forget her.

You stare pointedly out the window. You ate dinner in the dining cart in silence, Clarisse didn’t try to touch you again, but she seems bored of letting you sulk now that there’s nothing else to entertain her.

It’s only about 7:00 pm- you still have an entire night with her, and a bus ride the next day. Why are the Gods torturing you like this?

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. You’re sitting across from each other. Her foot kicks at yours. “C’mere,” she pats the space next to her on the bench.

You snort. “You’re crazy. I’m not sitting near you.”

She shrugs and stands up, sitting next to you while you gasp in exasperation.

“Bitch,” you mumble, clenching your fists at you stand. She plants her hand on the window, trapping you in with her arm.

“Don’t be mean.”

You fold your arms and stare out the window. She’s right at your shoulder, whispering in your ear even though your alone- it makes you feel so special your head gets all dizzy.

“I want you, Y/N.” Not the way you want her.

“I. Don’t. Care.”

She laughs. You can see her reflection in the mirror, she’s laughing and smiling fondly- staring at you.

You whip around and point your finger at her.

“I won’t let you treat me like a rag doll anymore.”

Her smile falls.

“I used to be something you could just swing around, but I’m not anymore. I won’t ever be a toy for you, Clarisse. These past two days were fun, but they were goodbye. When we get back to Camp I’m getting over you, because I’ve spent too much time waiting for you.”

Her hand falls from the window, and she backs away from you.

—-

When you realize that this train also features another small, single bed, you resist the urge to stomp your feet like a child. Instead, you pretend like it’s all fine, a part of you pretends it’s that alternate before- Clarisse turning around while you change and you leave to brush your teeth and then you come back to her in bed.

You lay down, body unwillingly pressed up against hers. She doesn’t touch you, at least, and it’s tense and silent until she breaks it. Her hand finds yours through the sheets and blankets.

“Y/N.”

You try to shake her hand off of you, mumbling that she’s using your tiredness to manipulate you.

“Do you really think that’s all you were to me?”

You’re frozen, she’s right up against your back, breath tickling your shoulder and voice in your ear again.

Your hand still fits perfectly in hers.

“A toy?”

“What else was I supposed to think?”

She utters the two words you never thought you would hear her say.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breathe hitches.

“I-I know I’ve been stupid, I’m not totally dumb. I just, I had it in my head that I could make you fall in love with me all over again. And then I could do it right, I could fix it, and you could teach me how to love you and I would do it right, Y/N. And then I… I got jealous. Because that fucking server was flirting with you, she was, and I got fucking jealous and I fucked it all up.”

She’s breathing heavily at your shoulder.

“I was scared, Y/N. And that… I didn’t know how to deal with that. I was scared because I love you so much I know I would do anything you asked me too. So, I said those stupid things that night, I just lied because I was scared, and I’ll never forgive myself for the way I made you feel. I don’t deserve another chance, but I want to show you that I can do it right. I can do it however you want me too, as long as you teach me.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“I want you to let me love you.”

She lets go of your hand.

“You don’t have to say anything, I guess,” she swallows. “I mean, if I was you I would have killed me-”

“Really?” you voice comes out like a broken whisper, sitting up so you can look into her eyes. You try to tell if she’s lying, but you can’t. It hurts and it aches so good and she’s not lying.

“Y-yeah, I would have killed me.”

You smile. “No, dumbass, do you really love me?”

“Oh,” she blinks, sitting up too. “Y/N, I love you so much that I’ll never be the same person again.”

You don’t want to kiss her. All you’ve been doing is kissing her, sinking into that hard and rough side of your relationship that’s just hot desire.

But there’s a soft part to Clarisse that you bring out. And you bring it out now, winding your arms around her neck, breathing heavily as you rest your head on her shoulder. She hugs you, her arms are so strong, she always gives the best hugs- and kisses your temple like she did when she thought you were sleeping.

She loved you even when she didn’t know you would feel it.

Your fingers dig into her back.

“I love you,” she says again, softly, like she’s caressing the words with such a reverence that they were bathed in golden ichor. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you say back, you let her love you, and it’s the most true thing you’ve ever known.

—-

“Ah, young warriors!” Chiron says, holding his hands out.

Of course, on the tail end of your trip you had encountered tons of little monsters- more amphisbaena, even a juvenile drakon that could barely spit acid. Clarisse had made a dazzling show of killing all of them, and unlike the first amphisbaena- none of them got close enough to touch you.

You had to charmspeak the train conductor, the police officer at the station, and the bus driver. You wonder faintly if your mother had been looking out for you, helping you love Clarisse again.

Of course, all of those instances ended in Clarisse pulling you into the nearest corner.

It’s different, now that you know that you live each other. She still kisses you with that rough deepness, like she’s starved, like she’s trying to breathe you in, but her hands are so soft around you. She holds your waist close to you, not like she just wants to feel you body, but like she just wants to be close to you.

You swing your backpack off of your shoulder, you can feel your mascara smeared down your face from the heat, digging into your bag for the black box.

Chiron smiles and holds his hands out for you to place them in. “You have my thanks,” he says, laying the box into his hand.

You’re surprised when all he does is take out a simple pen. It looks like a nice pen, sure, but still just a pen.

He uncaps it, letting it fall to the concrete, when it suddenly transforms into a sword. You yelp and jump back, Clarisse puts her arm in front of you, and Chiron laughs triumphantly.

“Beautiful!” he says, admiring the carefully crafted sword.

Mr. D dissolves into a fit of laughter. “No more bad blood, huh?”

Clarisse drops her hand from where it reaches for her spear, and her other arm from across your body. Her hands drop to her sides, her face turns back into a mask of indifference and she shrugs.

Mr. D seems to find that even more funny, and Chiron dismisses you with a wave of his hand, staring in awe at the silver sword.

Clarisse presses her lips together into a tight line until you smack a kiss on her cheek.

“Love you,” you sing, and her face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s the only thing you ever want to know. All you need to know is her and her love.

—-

marley when she finds out clarisse and y/n are dating again: if you EVER and i mean EVER hurt her again i will torture you in ways not even imagined yet.

clarisse: ok yes i promise 😟😟

—-

clarisse when she realized she was in love with y/n: NO NO NO NO NEW FEELINGS NO I REJECT THIS AND I MUST RUN AWAY IN FACT THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

also clarisse when she realized she just broke up with y/n: OH GODS NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHAT HAVE I DONE NO NO NO NO PLEASE NO NO NO

—-

honorable mention to y/n fuck em’ and hate em’ l/n

another honorable mention to clarisse “none of them got close enough to hurt you” la rue

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk @lacytalks

—-

pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you!!

[pinksturniolo]

Switch - Chris and Matt Sturniolo (Part One)

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

Summary: Cherry Bomb - The largest underground BDSM club in Los Angeles, California. Its member list is extremely exclusive, only granting access to celebrities, influencers and the filthy rich. No one really cares who you are or what you do, they come for one thing and one thing only. Whatever happens at the Cherry stays at the Cherry….

Content warnings: smut, oral, fingering, protected sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, threesome

this story has heavy themes and descriptions of bdsm, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read <3

word count: 3,879

Neon lights bounce off the shiny black walls, loud music playing but not too loud that you can’t hear what the blonde guy next to you is saying. He’s been talking your ear off for the last 20 minutes, while you zone out, sipping on your lemon club soda. This was the only time you wished they served alcohol here so you could at least be tipsy enough to endure the men that have been approaching you tonight.

Your usual partner hasn’t shown up yet and you have already been here for almost an hour. You try to ignore the slight ache in your chest though, focusing your attention back to the man next to you.

“So, how long you been coming here?” He asks.

“About 6 months now.” You reply.

“Damn, I feel like an amateur." He laughs, “This is only my second time.”

Obviously.

You hated to think so rudely but every person you’ve talked to tonight just wasn’t the one you preferred. You were starting to get extremely impatient, wondering where he was. He was never late.

As if your internal monologue has been heard by a higher power, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and turn in your seat to see the same man you were just thinking of. He has a dark look on his face as he eyes the person next to you.

“I don’t think she’s very interested buddy, why don’t you go bother some other poor girl.” He says to him, his hand now curling around your shoulder possessively.

The blonde guy’s face reddens with embarrassment as he quickly scrambles up from his chair. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours.” he says and quickly walks off.

You scoff as your partner sits next to you, ordering a water from the waitress.

“That was unnecessary.” You say, his face still annoyed as he relaxes into the chair, his arm still slung around the back of you. He takes a long sip of his water, avoiding looking at you. You see his jaw clench and he runs a hand through his hair before speaking.

“What were you doing talking to that loser anyways?” He finally asks, making eye contact with you and he looks pissed.

“Oh my god, are you jealous Matt? Maybe you should’ve been here on time before other guys had the chance to talk to me.” you reply, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

He then grabs the side of your chair, pulling it forcefully towards him, causing you to gasp out. Your thighs are touching, and his hand moves from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, sliding up to knot his fingers in your hair and pull slightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t entertain other men when I’m not around and wait patiently for me like a good girl. Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to? Hm?” He whispers in your ear threateningly. Your core pulses with arousal at his words, his warm breath on your neck causing tingles to shoot down your spine.

So of course, this leads to you replying with a smart remark, which makes him take you to the candy room and punish you until you beg for forgiveness.

There were numerous rooms in the club that members could use, their time limit being an hour. But the main rooms that were larger and you could reserve for however long you wanted (at a high price) were only four. The star room, the red room, the flower room and the candy room.

The candy room is where you and Matt spend most of your encounters together at the Cherry Bomb. However, there’s nothing sweet about it besides the name. Its walls are painted red, a black bed with silk sheets in the middle and glossy black floors. There’s a cabinet of floggers, ropes, leather and fuzzy cuffs, vibrators and anything else you can imagine.

There’s no particular reason why it’s your favorite but Matt has been reserving it for you since you met him here and it’s become a routine on a Saturday night, twice a month.

Cherry Bomb has been around since the late 80s and has done a particularly good job at keeping its participants a secret, mainly due to the NDA you have to sign upon your first entry, along with a recent STD panel and heavy entrance fee. They also prohibited alcohol and drug use.

You were referred by one of your friends, which made it easier for you to get in. The money was no issue for you, but the wait list was long and having a friend on the inside had its benefits.

You instantly loved it from the first time you came. The atmosphere wasn’t grungy or too dark like you would expect a typical sex club to be. No one seemed to care who you were here, there was no judgement, and it was a safe place to act out your wildest fantasies, with whoever you choose.

You had had experiences with a couple different men and women, all which were satisfying for the most part. Most people had a habit of choosing a particular partner and being loyal to them, while others constantly swapped, not staying with one person too long.

When you met Matt, you instantly clicked, and found something in him that you hadn’t felt with any other member. He approached you one night, his demeanor confident but also calm. The energy flowed between you two, and once he got you to the room alone, it was fireworks. He was very clear on consent being an important aspect and boundaries were established before anything else.

Matt was a switch, like you. While most of the time he preferred to be dominate, he could also be submissive which was heaven to you. You loved it when he took control, using your body however he pleased, and he knew the best way to handle your brattiness. Because as much as it felt good to submit to him, you also had a fiery attitude which only made the pleasure of his punishment better.

He made you beg till you cried, spanked you so hard you had marks for weeks, and would tie you to the bed and fuck you until your brain was fuzzy, and your throat was raw from screaming his name. Making you cum over and over again until you were numb.

But when he was the submissive for the night… it was a whole different experience. There was nothing better than the feeling of him begging you to please him, demanding him to do whatever you wanted. Edging him until he was whimpering for you, teasing him and seeing how much he enjoyed it. Nothing compared.

And the best part about Matt that you liked, was that he always took the time to make sure you had the proper after care after each session. Cleaning you up, getting you water if you needed it, and even massaging your body if he went particularly hard on you that night.

He was currently holding you after tonight's session was done, rubbing small soothing circles on your back, your head cradled against his chest. You can hear his heart beating at a relaxed pace, calming you as your own heart slows down to match his tempo.

He breaks the sweet silence, his velvety voice pulling you out of your trance. “Y/N… I have a question for you.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, your fatigue settling in.

“How do you feel about a threesome?” He says, his hand stroking over the top of your head.

You’re alert now, lifting your head to turn and look at him. His eyes are half closed, a lazy smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

“I think it’s pretty hot. Is that something you want to do?” You reply.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I’ve experienced them before, yes. Depends… who would it be with?”

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth, a contemplative look on his face.

“I know someone that’s interested. In you. He’s always wanted to come to Cherry but he’s hesitant.” Matt says and your heart rate picks up a little at his words.

“He’s interested in me?” You ask, surprised at the fact that Matt talks about you outside of the club. That would be breaking the NDA.

He strokes his hand over the side of your face, caressing your jaw with his fingers. His eyes are soft, like they always are at the end of the night, adoring you with affection.

“Sorry, princess. I know I’m technically not supposed to talk to anyone about this. But I trust him… and I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you would be upset.” He says.

You sit up now, fully facing him, and place your arms on either side of him, one hand resting on his chest and the other on his bicep.

“I know, I’m not upset. I’m flattered actually.” You say, smirking, the idea of what he’s proposing piquing your curiosity.

“Mm. Don’t get too cocky. But if you would like to try it out, I’ll tell him to come with me next time.” He tells you.

Your mind races at the thought of a threesome with him and another man, wondering how exactly that would change the dynamic between you two. Matt could be a little possessive and you were more than satisfied with just him as your partner but it made you think of how he would be able to share you. It excites you. He must trust this other person a lot.

“Who is it?” You ask him and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you with an amused look.

“It’s a surprise.”

✰✿

You return to Cherry Bomb two weeks later, more nervous than you had been any other time you’ve come. But your anticipation outweighs your nerves as you sit at the bar, patiently waiting for Matt. You’re wearing a skin tight black lace dress that’s basically see through, showing your matching black lingerie set underneath. Sleek red heels are on your feet, your hair falling in soft loose waves that frame your face and a light coat of mascara through your eyelashes.

You took the time to put extra effort into your appearance tonight, and practically everyone in the club notices, staring at you as they wander around. But you pay no mind, your focus on the soda in front of you. Matt would be fuming with rage if he knew you were entertaining anyone else tonight and usually you would play with fire but given the special circumstances, you decided not to mess with him tonight.

The waitress hands you a note, pulling you out of your thoughts. She smiles at you politely before walking off, attending to another customer.

Meet me in the red room.

It’s Matt’s handwriting. He’s never done this before, always meeting you at the bar and then escorting you to your usual room. Your palms sweat as you stand from your chair and make your way to the large room at the end of the hall with the red door.

The red room. It was the largest room in the club, and the only one you hadn’t been in before. You’ve heard rumors of how luxurious it was which is why it was so hard to book. How Matt was able to get it tonight, you’re not sure.

You take a deep breath and adjust your dress, pushing the door open. The cool air of the room hits you, tiny goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your heart picks up speed at the sight of Matt centered directly at the center edge of the bed. He’s also dressed in all black, his eyes roaming up and down your body in hunger as you saunter over to him.

Wait. Is that Matt? You pause in front of him, a few feet away. His hair is longer, and his face is extremely similar but with a slight difference. And his aura is arrogant. But when you make eye contact with him, you feel butterflies gather in your stomach, his blue eyes making you drown with attraction. It’s the same feeling Matt gives you but there’s something different about him.

You now realize it’s not Matt at all.

The smug smile on his lips that’s been growing since he noticed the confusion on your face only widens, his hands gripping the sides of the bed, making the muscles in his arm flex. He looks incredibly strong.

“Looking for someone?” He asks teasingly and you can already feel the pool of wetness growing by the second in your underwear.

“Where’s Matt?” You ask sweetly, tilting your head. Your arms are crossed and your eyes narrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through.

Let the games begin.

The stranger in front of you chuckles, leaning back on his arms now, his legs spreading slightly in jeans. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again. You can’t help but do the same.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Don’t like what you see?” He says, his bottom lip stuck out in a fake pout.

You smile at him, mocking the tone in his voice. “I prefer princess.”

He laughs lowly, biting his lip and looks behind you. “You weren’t lying when you said she was a brat.” He says and you whip your head around, shocked to see Matt sitting in the love seat at the corner of the room.

You hadn’t noticed him at all when you walked in, given the darkness of the room and the fact he was so quiet during your exchange.

Matt has a blank expression, not looking at you. “Call her whatever you want, Chris.”

You can see that he’s dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s simple, like the clothes he usually wears but he still looks incredible.

You’re still turned towards him, giving Chris a full view of your ass now, which you’re sure he’s appreciating.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” You tell him, your eyebrows raised in amusement.

The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile, exchanging a look with Chris that you can’t decipher. “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

He gets up from his seat now and crosses the room to where you are. You’re about to respond with a witty remark but he’s suddenly gripping your arms, turning you around forcefully to face Chris again.

Your ass is pressed into his crotch, and you feel him harden against you. You gasp lightly as he places his mouth next to your ear, whispering lowly.

“That’s enough from you, Princess. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless it’s a yes or no. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and Chris watches with fascination at the way Matt handles you. You can see how visibly turned on he is, his boner straining through his jeans.

You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been, the feeling of Matt’s strong grip on your arms, as he places soft wet kisses on the curve of your neck and the look in Chris’ eyes as they burn into yours, his pupils blown out.

“Are you comfortable? You know your safe word, right?” He asks you, his tone a little lighter. He wraps one hand around your throat, the other on your left hip and squeezes.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Good.” He replies, releasing you completely and you feel him back up from behind you. “Now get on your knees.”

Your heart races as you sink down, Chris’ eyes following your every moment. He hasn’t taken them off you since you entered the room and something in his eyes made you very nervous but incredibly excited at the same time.

Matt is now seated on the opposite side of the room, in a large leather chair. He’s directly in front of you now, to the side of Chris. You sit obediently on your knees, your eyes still focused on him as he speaks his next set of instructions.

“Why don’t you show Chris how you put that mouth to good use.” he says, nodding his head for you to continue.

You swallow and look away from Matt now, to see an enticing smirk on his brother’s face. He spreads his legs farther open as he adjusts himself on the bed, unbuckling his belt from his jeans. He places it on the mattress next to him and pulls his jeans down and off his legs.

You scoot closer to him, positioning yourself between his legs, your hands resting on top of his thighs. The look in your eyes is enough to get his heart racing like yours, and he curls a finger under your chin, tugging your face closer to him as he leans down.

“Let me taste your lips, sweetheart.” He says softly and connects his mouth to yours.

Now you can tell the real difference between them. Matt is harsh, yet caring. His energy penetrates you with a feeling of deep connection, a tie that binds you to him in one more ways then one. The trust you two have built over the past few months comes through when your bodies mesh with one another. He knows just what to say to please you and you in return, love to obey his every wish and command.

But Chris… he kisses you like he’s starving. He’s sweet, yet strong. It’s all new territory to explore, and you can almost taste the desperation on his tongue. His hands are soft against your face, warmth flooding your body at the feeling of his touch. You wonder just how much Matt has expressed to him, what secrets he’s revealed about all the sinful, delicious acts you’ve conceived with him in the candy room.

Chris is magnetic, his wet, hot kisses making you ache in your core. He finally pulls away from you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in a dark look. “Take your dress off.” He speaks.

You pull it off with no hesitation, up and over your head, now in your lingerie beneath him.

He drinks in the sight of your half naked body, your tits pushing against your bra, the hem of your black thong high on your hips and you slip your heels off.

He pulls his dick out, red tip leaking with precum already. He’s practically the same length as Matt, with a little more girth. It’s a little intimidating but your needs overpower, your mouth watering as you look at him.

You open your mouth, puckering your lips to let a pool of saliva drip down onto his length and you make eye contact with Matt, the look he gives you making a spark run through you.

Chris groans as you look back at him, spreading your spit down him with your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue. “Shit… feels so fucking good.” He rasps.

His chest is moving up and down as he breathes deeply, exhaling from his nose as he grits his teeth, and you take him further into your mouth. It’s a little hard to adjust to his size but you do, bobbing your head as he brushes the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

He moans loudly, bucking his hips up slightly. He pulls your hair back from your face, holding it into a ponytail, tightly, pulling at your hair a little. This makes you moan in return around him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the pleasure. The air in the room is thick now, the sounds of Chris fucking your mouth and his groaning filling the space. You can feel Matt’s stare on you, and your knees dig into the softness of the shaggy black carpet, your grip on Chris’s thighs tightening.

“Fuck.” He pants, and moves his hands down your back, your body bending slightly so your ass poked out, allowing him access to feel you up. He caresses the flesh of your cheeks, massaging them before he brings one hand down to smack you.

You jolt slightly, not expecting him to do that, and hum around him, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah? You like that?” he says, smacking you once more, making it sting a little. You make another noise of approval, his cock still stuffed down your throat but then pull out, with a response you’re later bound to regret. “Not hard enough.”

You look up through your lashes at him and your heart races from how mad he looks. When Matt gets that mad, his eyes glaze over, and his face is cold. But Chris smiles. Even though his eyes are hard, there’s a grin on his face that says, ‘You have no idea what you just started.’  It’s insanely attractive.

He then reaches next to him, the metal of his belt clanking. He folds it, and you see the genuine leather thick in his hand.

He grabs the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your hair. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You glance at Matt and his hand palms over the hardness in his jeans, his other hand gripping on the arm of the chair.

Fuck.

You take Chris into your mouth again, your ass in the air for him. He sighs as he slips back down your throat, dragging the belt across you. He does this agonizingly slow, your head working on him. Finally, he slaps your it on your ass, hard. You moan loudly, your nails digging into his thighs. “How’s that, princess?”

You breathe out hard from your nose, the harsh sting of the belt lingering. Chris rubs his hand over your cheek, soothing the skin there, allowing you a few seconds of relief before he brings it down against you again, a loud smack ringing in the air.

You cry out, tears forming in your eyes and bring your head up slightly, gasping for air.

See, the pain… the pain sucked. You saw red each time you were punished like this but after the few seconds of hurt passes, you feel a rush of euphoria, and tingles of pleasure you just can’t get enough of.

“Hm? Don’t got anything to say now? Is this what you wanted?” Chris says, his large hands squeezing and rubbing you, before bringing his belt down once more against you. All you can do now is whimper, your actions on Chris at a complete stop, while you grip his thighs, tears now streaming down your face, mascara running.

You look up at him through your pitiful tears, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your face is flushed, lips red and swollen. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He whispers and your heart flutters at his compliment.

You wonder if Matt heard and flick your gaze to him again. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his black boxers showing, his hand still on himself but not moving. He smirks, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

Chris then grips your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look back at him.

“What do you think Matt? Think she deserves to cum?”

“Give her what she wants.” He replies.

a/n: soooo this one was supposed to be a full one shot but i had to split it into two parts or else it was gonna be too long lol i had this idea in my head i just had to write it out, so i promise i'll work on the final part of my matt series soon!!

taglist <3 :

@christhopersturniolo @sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @junovrsmp4 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @stingerayyy2 @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @muwapsturniolo

[sweetiecutie]

Yandere Draco Malfoy headcanons

Warnings: yandere behavior, toxic relationships, bullying, obsession, sexual implications but nothing is described, mention of anxiety and depression

Draco is a spoiled brat. Since birth, whenever he wanted something - it was delivered to him in a matter of hours - maximum a few days - in a fancy box decorated with huge sparkly bow on top of it. So when you, to his great astonishment, instead of throwing yourself at him tell him to go fuck himself - Draco gets pissed (and extremely anxious)

It’d be just perfect if you were a pureblood - absolutely no restraints for Draco in courting and spending time with you. If you happened to be a half-blood - he’d be extremely conflicted, but eventually just going so far as forging your personal documents, claiming that you’re a descent of an ancient pureblood family that happened to go missing due to a drastic accident and then being ‘found’ and ‘adopted’ by your parents. Same would go to a muggleborn darling, but I doubt he’d even pay attention to them in a first place

Draco grew up in environment where arranger marriages had always been an expected and usual thing, personal preferences and actual feelings rarely being involved; his parents had never felt anything but revulsion and loathing for each other - Draco’s idea of love is extremely twisted. Love, in his understanding, is when you’re official - when everyone in the family, school, country and world knows that you’re together, tied by strong bond of marriage. That’s what he’d been taught, that’s what he strongly believes in

That leads to Draco spreading rumors all around school about you two being in a relationship, even though it’s obviously a lie. He doesn’t need you to agree with all his stories - you may deny everything as much as you want but eventually everyone in Hogwarts will know that you two are involved with each other in some way. Even if some students don’t believe all the rumors going around, they would think twice before approaching you, not wanting to deal with Draco and his buddies

His logic is pretty much “If I can’t have you - no one can”. If you happened to have a partner - not for long. Once again, Draco would spread nasty lies about you constantly cheating on your S/o with him, and oh boy, can this man be persuasive. Soon enough your partner would be so fed up or simply ashamed of being in relationship with you, breaking up on you not even a few months in dating. And that would happen again and again with every one of your little silly love interests until you finally give up and come crawling to Draco since, well, he’s basically the only person in the whole castle offering you comfort and company

Draco is mean. He doesn’t know how to express his fondness and love obsession so he tries doing so through the ways already known to him - bullying. Snarky comments and snickering seem to accompany your every smallest movement, pale eyes being always fixated on you, waiting, praying for you to make at least one smallest mistake so that he’d finally have a reason to approach you, even if it’s to humiliate you

He’d deluge you with presents, basically trying to buy your affection. Anything you want - you get it. You like that sweater that doesn’t cost a quarter of its actual price - it will be lying on your bed neatly folded, a note attached to it saying “It would look better laying on my bedroom floor”. Want a diamond ring - of course, my dear, as many as you wish, but only after official “I Do”. You want ten liters of Unicorn’s bile - “Ew, that’s bloody gross. Here you go, fucking weirdo” - hands you four bottles filled with dark brown liquid. Where the hell did he even get it from? You said it just to test his limits

Even if you do eventually agree to step into relationship with Draco which is more of an act of pity, let’s be honest his behavior won’t get any better. Yeah, he stops with bullying for sure, but his obsession seems to only get worse the more time you spend together. Draco would become extremely possessive, to an extend where someone else looking at you for longer than a few second would send Draco into an ugly tantrum, shouting accusations and threats at everyone around

That leads to thus little number of friends you had reducing to absolute zero - them being too afraid or simply sick of Draco and his constant blackmailing and threats, leaving you all alone in his clutches. Being friends with you becomes simply too dangerous for others

He’ll follow you everywhere. Wherever you are, it seems like Draco and his little squad is always a few meters afar, watching you closely. It gets even worse once you two are ‘dating’ - Draco is like a chewing gum stuck in your hair - impossible to get rid of. You do your homework - he’s right by your side, flipping the pages of your book over when you ask. You’re getting ready to take a shower - he’s already shirtless and undoing his pants “Don’t you care about saving water and environment? Y/n, penguins are dying!”

Constantly touches you. And if you don’t like it or feel uncomfortable with his touch - too bad, Draco doesn’t care. “Darling, don’t fucking resist me. You’re only making it worse for yourself” And that’s true, it’s better to have contended and happy Draco snuggled into you rather than a furious and annoyed one, tightly wrapping his huge hand around your neck

His mood swings are just something. One moment he may be all cuddly and snuggly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy, and the other - he’s frowning and snarling insults, words are pure poison. And just five minutes later he crawls back with the saddest expression on his face, “Sorry, I got really upset, I thought you were thinking about that scumbag Potter again🥺👉🏻👈🏻” - “Draco, how the fuck can you know what I was thinking about?!”

He’d never physically hurt you because, well, Draco is a pussy. The maximum is pressing you against the wall with his hand around your throat, not choking but just holding you in place while glaring down at your smaller form. All the damage that he causes is mostly emotional. You’d definitely develop paranoia because of his constant stalking, feeling as if even walls have eyes and ears, intently watching your every move. Constant anxiety caused by Draco’s harsh words and treatment, may lead to deep depression

From the good things - he’s really eager to please you. As I said - whatever you want - you get, even if that’s not a material thing. Fame, power, influence - all of that is real and you can get it easily by simply being with him. But the more Draco gives you, the more demanding he gets - everything has its price. At first simple affection will be the greatest repay, but the older you both get - the more sexual turn it all gets

Draco would go absolutely insane during the summer break. He’ll be writing you a few times a day, demanding an answer from you containing a detailed description of your day, who you were talking to and all the conversations themselves. He’d defo get a pair of those double ended mirrors for you two (Wizarding FaceTime lmao) so he can see your beautiful face and hear that lovely voice of yours. And oh, don’t you dare not responding to his tenth call of a day - it’ll end up in a biggest tantrum

His parents noticing Draco’s obsession way too late, not being able to fix nor influence son’s unhealthy behavior. Narcissa tries to reason with her son, cool his eagerness and patroon a bit down, for the sake of both him and you. But Draco sees that as a betrayal, his twisted mind turning it into his family trying to turn you against him, to take you away from him. Now he sees it all - he doesn’t need their approval nor their blessing, he’ll have it his way anyways. It ends with Draco basically forcing marriage upon you, doing what he’s been longing for all these years - claiming you as his, so that no one could ever doubt the special bound you two have

After all, you two were always meant to be

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback!💖

[poraphia]

"A Dancing Rockstar."

➵ PAIRING! cc!lvjy!wilbur x cc!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.8.23 | 1978 words

➵ CONTAINING! party with the qsmp members, brief mention of FitMC and JaidenAnimations, Tubbo being a drunk wingman, reader and wilbur are drunkk, dancing :o

➵ SAYING! hihi guess who tryna get back into writing! I started on this fic like.. a while ago but since this prompt one the poll here it is :))! hope yall enjoy and sorry i been leaving yall hanging i love yall mwa mwa

My masterlist :)

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I wasn’t much for parties, but if you passed me a couple shots of vodka and some damn good music then maybe I could get down to a song or two.

The party was getting loud and heavy. Bodies were sloshing around the dance floor, music rumbled the whole room, and silhouettes could only be defined in blue and pink. I sat on the couch, clutching my glass as I watched my friends dance while laughing and holding each other close. It was interesting watching from afar— seeing these people I had only met months prior in a Minecraft server now here and present before me having the time of their lives.

It was safe to say I knew most of the people here— it is a QSMP party plus some guests after all. I’d like to think I’ve talked to every single member there is to the server, whether they would be frequently active or log in every once in a while, but there was someone in this party I was dying to get to know. Though he only logged in for at max a month, he had a daughter, posed as a son under Phil, and even had some sort of gay romance with Quackity.

You know who I’m talking about.

The myth.

The legend.

“—Wilbur! Pass me another glass, would you?”

Yup. William fucking Gold.

He was here by convenience. Lovejoy was in the city for his worldwide tour and it just so happen that the stars aligned for him (and maybe a bit in my favor too) to be here.

I constantly glanced at him— He stood there next to the bar area and never really left that specific spot. His shoulder was pressed against the pillar wall while his other arm held his red solo cup. Every so often one of his friends would come up to him and spark up a conversation before retreating with other friends. Not Wilbur though. He remained firm in his position at all times, and his eyes would sometimes lurk amongst the dancing bodies. Maybe he was looking for an excuse to join in, but never really found his little reason.

I felt the weight of the sofa shift as someone took their seat next to me. It was Tubbo, who looked wasted, but had some sort of consciousness in him still. His arms sprawled out as he sunk into the cushions, letting out a loud sigh.

“Whewww! I am so… Dizzy…” He exhaled. I rolled my eyes before turning my direction toward him.

“That’s sorta your fault for drinking so much.” I commented. He puffed out his cheeks while squinting at me.

“Psh, I’m a big man now. I know what I’m doing.” He scoffed. “How about you? Doesn’t look like you’re doing much. You’re usually my party buddy here!” He exclaimed, sitting up.

I sighed. “I mean yeah. I guess I’m just a little buzzed.” I shrugged, my gaze leading itself back to Wilbur. His long limb wrapped around the pillar and his cup was now placed on a surface. His mind was occupied with the phone he was clutching in his hand. My head tilted a little at the sight and without realizing, a little smile was forming on my face. This sparked Tubbo’s curiosity.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking at..—” Before Tubbo could say anything else, I whipped my head around, causing him to nearly choke laughing. “NO WAY—! ARE YOU CRUSHING ON—?”

“BE QUIET! “I squealed. I jumped toward him and put him in a headlock while using my other hand to cover his mouth as I muffled his obnoxious laughter.

“Dude, shut up! It’s not that big of a deal—” Tubbo broke out of my grasp, sitting up and staring at me.

“Alright, so if it’s not that big of a deaaaal—” without a second to spare, he raced off of the couch and darted towards Wilbur, becoming a near foggy vision under the LED lights. My heart skipped a beat as I desperately stumbled after him. I burst through the dancing crowd, nearly slipping because of the sleek tile floor.

“TUBBO YOU BITCH!” I screamed. But it was too late. By the time I yanked the boy by the shoulder, he was already grinning sinisterly at the sight of Wilbur’s flustered expression. I pushed Tubbo aside, now putting me in the position where I was right in front of the man.

“Uh…” I croaked out. A part of me wanted to just crawl into a hole and die at this point.

Wilbur chuckled, leaning his head against the pillar while smiling down at me.

“Hey there. So uh.. What was Tubbo talking about..?” he asked, slightly side eyeing Tubbo, who was losing his shit laughing while clutching Fit.

“D-don't mind him! He was just kidding haha!” I tried to nervously laugh it off, but under the dancing lights I was a heated red mess. I glanced behind him, realizing there were spare cups and glasses of alcohol. Without thinking, I moved past him and swiftly poured my own shot before frantically gulping it down.

The alcohol burned my throat, but luckily it was quick to loosen me up. I whipped my head back to Wilbur, who had a mixed expression of shocked amusement.

“Wanna dance?” I quickly offered, holding out my hand. I knew I wasn’t thinking this true, but what else could I say to break the ice?

“I.. Uh.. sure..—?! Ah—!” without letting him get another word out, I grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor while occasionally bumping into the large groups of people. Some even took a double take at the sight of me dragging Wil.

Holy shit, this is so embarrassing. I thought. But I was far too gone to pull away. I turned around to face him now, bobbing a little bit to the music. He looked down at me, and with the red to his cheeks and the blue light shining down on him, his face was a sweet purple. The sight tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt my knees going weak.

If anything, I needed another shot. I turned to Tubbo, who was watching us with Jaiden and Fit. With my hand, I held up my thumb and pinky and held it close to my lips, indicating that I needed a drink. I watched as Tubbo ran off, leaving Fit and Jaiden confused. Chuckling a little bit, I turned back around to look at Wilbur.

He was sort of bobbing around, moving to the beat of the music. It was obvious that both of us weren’t completely feeling it, but all I needed was one shot and maybe I could help him start feeling the vibe. I watched as his lanky arms swayed from side to side.

I smiled a little. “Not much of a dancer?” I asked. Bashfully, he shook his head no. As if on queue, Tubbo ran up behind me, shoving a plastic cup into my grasp. Turning away from Wilbur, I brought the brim to my lips and chugged down the rugged taste. The alcohol rushed through my throat and into my nerves like poison, but I was back into the game. I shoved the cup back into Tubbo’s grasp and whispered him a quick thank you.

As if on instinct, my hands were on Wilbur’s hips, making him yelp in surprise. I picked up our pace, swaying to the beat of the music. Wil fumbled a little, not sure what to do besides move his torso with my consistent guidance. I decided to help him out, and as our hips grooved, I moved his hands onto my hips and rested my hands on his shoulders.

“Come on, you got this.” I smirked. A spark of boldness flamed in my chest, and the look on Wilbur’s face was my gasoline. He took one of my arms and backed away a bit to twirl me in place before holding my waist with his forearm, dipping me down so that my hair touched the glowing floor.

“I-I don’t even know your name!” He chuckled.

“Well..—” He pulled me back up, but I still remained close to his face. “Call me (y/n).”

We continued to dance to the music with our bodies intertwined. His leg was in between my legs. My arm was wrapped around his neck. His hand was on my hip. Our other hands were intertwined. It felt dangerous to be so close to stranger like this, but shit, did it feel right. For all hell, he could’ve been a mass murderer and I’m his next prey.. Although.. Looking into those eyes, I’m no better than a mouse falling for cheese on a trap.

“So how’d you meet Quackity?” He asked.

“Oh, we go way back to when we went to college together. He was a busy ass kid, but we bonded through those late night cramming sessions.” I chuckled. “How about you?”

“Ah, we used to do similar content like years ago on Youtube, then we got put into the same minecraft server, bonded outside of the server, and the rest is history.” He smiled. “It’s crazy seeing how far he’s come though— Y’know, creating a whole server full of people from all over the world and all.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” I laughed. “How about you? Heard you were a whole rockstar.”

“Pfff— rockstar?” He scoffed. “Don’t boost my ego now.”

“Oh, come on! You’re hardly on the server. It’s really the only explanation you have.”

“Well, yeah, I guess so—”

“Hey lovebirds!” Tubbo butted his head between me and Wilbur. “Are you guys having fun getting to know each other?” He chirped. He clasped his hands together and brought them near his cheek, giggling at the sight of us together.

I pulled away from Wilbur before playfully shoving Tubbo away. “Shut up!” I exclaimed. He only cackled in response before disappearing into the crowd yet again. Before I could chase after him, I felt a pair of hands grip the sides of my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“Come on, it’s not his fault.” Wilbur whispered in my ear, the alcohol near apparent in his voice. It took Tubbo’s outburst to make me realize we were wasted and dancing the night away with Wil equally as drunk as me. I tilted my head up and sighed, taking comfort in his wobblily smile.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah? I saw there’s a gas station near by. We can get a couple snacks and walk around the city.” I reached up, cupping his face with one of my hands.

“Hm, sounds like a plan to me.” Wilbur smiled back.

Though we spent the rest of the night with him drunkenly talking about any random historical fact his mind came up with, or the outrageous stories he had while on tour, tonight it really did found like I found someone like no other. Someone who knows how to dance with me without even knowing my name. Someone I would confide in telling my life story to. Someone I could maybe, just maybe, fall in love with.

So, did I thank a hangover 19 year boy the next morning afterward? Yes, yes I did.

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a / n ~ hope yall enjoyeddd :D reblogs, replies, notes of all kind super duper appreciated YIPPIEE

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Five (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: This is SO VERY ANGST. More angst than any other chapter so far. STRAP IN GIRLIES (GN). I'd love it if you feel like sharing what you think - your feedback means the world to me. ILY :-* Reblogs, comments, and asks are literal power-ups in my day and I appreciate every single one!

Word count: 8.3k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You’re spiralling. 

You’re pissed off and you’re hurt and you’re somehow still horny as hell (somehow, perhaps even more horny since Santiago helped you out in that very particular way of his). You feel all in a tizz, like you don’t know which way is up; but even so, you’re pretty sure you’ve simply been going around in circles, and it’s dizzying. Santiago makes it easy to do that when you follow his lead, after all – all the more reason that you’d had to get out finally, all those months ago. 

Safe to say, you’re a little bit worked up. Too many thoughts are racing through your head. Resentment that he could get you all riled up like that, have you come undone, and then straight up deny you. Like it was some power play all along and that all he wanted was the satisfaction. On the other hand, a dreadful longing spikes at the thought that maybe he really did just want to protect himself, because he wouldn’t know how to find his way out this time if he got lost in you all over again. 

The main thing you’re feeling though – a bitter shard of pain stabbing through any sense of pleasure you may be left with - is a singular fear. 

What if he really doesn’t want you anymore? 

He wants you, yes, on some level. His admissions in the kitchen about wanting to kiss you confirmed that much. But his desire for you had always felt like an unstoppable force. Like something he couldn’t help or hope to control. Like a raging fire. He had told you that he loved you, wanted you, needed you, all those months ago. And while you are sure that remains true at least in part, you are terrified that all you leaving had achieved was to teach him how to live without you. And, contrary to that, his touch had simply confirmed how hopelessly consumed by him you still are, all your progress - moving on and rebuilding and forgetting - unravelled in mere moments by his fingers. 

You resent that too. His power over you, when you always prided yourself on being strong – needing no-one. You have never liked to feel like the one who is compromised, in any situation. You always prefer to be the hunter as, that way, you’re not the one who gets hurt. But Santiago? Santiago is lethal, and he has always known your weak spots.  

Maybe that’s why you had stormed angrily to your room, subduing your heavy footsteps reluctantly, only for the sake of your dear buddies sleeping soundly in their beds. Maybe that’s why you had hastily cleaned up, throwing on some fresh clothes from your case – a low cut top and some obscenely tight jeans. A splash of perfume. Some lipstick. All in the hopes of heading out to the local bar and searching for the kind of late-night attention which feels in your control. Seeking a desire which feels manageable. Trivial almost, instead of the kind which burns. 

Part of you – a small part of you, at least - recognises you’re being ridiculous, irrational, reactive, even as you zip on your boots. But there is another part of you that simply can’t stay here in this house with him a moment longer, feeling like he doesn’t want you the way you want him. 

You feel like, while you’ve been breaking apart for all these months, he was healing. It’s cruel maybe, that you would wish for his desire to burn him as much as it has a hold over you – but perhaps you’re not perfect. Perhaps you’re only human. 

Whatever. It doesn’t all need to make sense right now. Your head’s all over the place. You’re not really thinking straight at all. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream or get your brains fucked out (or maybe all of the above - not in that order). And so, you’re definitely not thinking when you throw open the door to the bathroom, recalling that you’d left your necklace on the counter. If you were -thinking- perhaps you would have heard the rushing of the water. Perhaps you would have heard the muffled, bitten back groans emanating from the shower cubicle. 

Fuck. 

If you weren’t thinking straight before, every thought falls right out of your head altogether when you swing open that door. Namely, when you see Santiago, his body slanted into the wall as he palms his thick, straining length in something of a frenzy. 

You should retreat, probably. In fact, yeah. That's exactly what you should do. But, the sight of him there arrests you, and you can’t help but devour every detail of him. Your eyes skim over him only fleetingly, and yet your memory of his body fills in the gaps, meaning you’re able to see far more of him than you could otherwise in the split second your eyes rove over him. 

He is stripped down, his body curled into the tiled wall, his forehead and one shoulder bracing himself as the stream of water thunders down on the back of his neck and his broad, lightly muscled shoulders. 

His thighs are slightly spread and his full glutes are clenching as he fucks his hard, veined cock into the circle of his left hand, squeezing tight and showing no mercy, his pace relentless. 

From the way his nipples are pebbled and the way you observe the tightness of the muscles coiling in his back, you can guess that the water is cold. Perhaps, that he had attempted to cool off after what had happened downstairs, seemingly to no avail. His need is heavy and urgent and burdening his hand, the veins popping in his slick forearm as water sluices over every contour of him and still, his want is evidently raging. 

The most important detail of all, however, is that his eyes are closed, droplets of water beading in his long lashes, and a wracked moan sounding from around his own fingers as he shoves them over his tongue. 

Fuck. 

He’s licking them clean. He’s tasting you. Tasting your juices from his fingers and pumping himself raw from the thought of it. 

Holy shit. 

He wants you. 

You see it now, clear as day. He wants you to the point of desperation. Helplessness. To the point of coming undone with his need for you. His want rages even beneath the stream of a cold shower, taken in hopes of subduing himself. He works himself urgently in his fist, in hopes of finding his release. You find him here, like this. 

Unfinished. 

You can see it much more clearly now. You see how he wants you. You see what you do to him. What you still do to him. 

You see now that saying no to you likely took every scrap of control he had, and now that is gone, there is nothing left for him but you. 

As you enter, Santiago hears the door creak open – you weren’t exactly sneaking- and he immediately tilts his body to the wall. It’s automatic - showing his ass rather than his dick in his hand, likely in case one of the boys had just walked in on him. But, when he sees it’s you stood there, all slack-jawed and honey-eyed, he foregoes the need to hide. He turns towards you instead, his length twitching as it grows even more rigid and more ruddy at the sight of you. Santiago’s eyes hooded and desolate with want as he looks you up and down in your ridiculous, come-fuck-me clothes. 

Santiago knows fine well that you only wear red when you want to be shown a good time. You feel like a flare, on display, and maybe you’d feel stupid -like scrubbing this red paint from your mouth – if his need was not blatantly on display too. If his predicament did not seem even more dire than yours. 

Finally, though, as you look and he lets you, you register the intrusion, and with a series of stunted vowel noises which barely make it past your teeth, you are dragging your eyes away from his. Your legs like jelly and skin flushed beneath your tight clothes, you are clasping the door handle and turning on your heel. Your only objective is to make it out of there, even if you turn to vapour in the hallway after the fact. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Santiago asks gruffly, and you are not sure what he means. Not sure whether he means to ask where you’re headed out to so late, or to inquire why in the hell you’re leaving the room now that you’re here, but God, you’re not sure anymore that you could answer either question in any way that would make the slightest bit of sense. 

You’re just not thinking straight. Can you be blamed? Look at him. Look at this, all for you. 

So, you freeze, breath held in your lungs as you grip the handle – your back to him, and about to swing the door open to hasten your exit. Instead, though, against every shred of good sense you have, you push the door closed, ever so gently, with you still on the inside. You turn, preposterously slowly back towards him, and when the sight of him stood there, wet and dripping, face all stern and languidly palming himself in the circle of his hand hits you, you flatten your back to the panelled door. Truth is, your legs feel so weak that you could barely stand without it. 

And, as if that wasn’t quite answer enough, Santiago continues to look at you insistently. 

Well? The quirk of his thick brow seems to enquire. Where the fuck are you going? 

Your voice comes out all breath. “Nowhere.” 

You’re going fucking nowhere, apparently. Only ever around and around in circles with Santiago “Pope” Garcia – but suddenly, you could care less.  

Your eyes lock then, and it takes less than moments for him to be on you, his wet hands fisting everywhere - in your hair and your clothes - and dragging your mouth onto his in a sudden, consuming crush. Your hands snake into his hair, squeezing cool shocks down your forearms as you wring rivulets of water from his grizzled curls, grabbing handfuls of the length at his crown to pull him deeper into you, his tongue hot and supple and buried in your mouth. Your top sticks to you, wet and sodden in all the places he has grabbed up handfuls of your flesh, or pressed his hot body flush against you. 

He drives you back, into the door and the awkward mess of towels hanging there on hooks. 

“Fuck,” he bites off into your mouth, and you surge forward with this barrelling want, walking him backward and slamming him against the cool tiles with a thwap and enough force that he grunts. Still, it barely slows him down at all, his hands all over you and his kisses still devouring, ripping the air from your mouth. 

There is no romance in this, you think. Only need, raw and animal, and you are surprised that you show enough restraint not to tear each other down to the floor and go at it right on the tiles. Still, you barely show any more restraint than that. 

“Shit. Fuck. Turn around. Turn around,” Santiago rasps, entirely wrecked already, barely able to get the words past his mouth. His cock looks almost painfully hard, and entirely insistent against your ass as he spins you and roughly bends you over the counter, pots of toothbrushes knocked into the sink and soap rolling who knows who cares where. 

“You want this?” he asks as he presses you into position, little precision or ceremony in it – just a rough, raw urgency, entirely untamed. 

You can see yourself reflected in the mirror above the sink, blurry and steamy and bent over, and that’s exactly how it feels. Everything; blurry and steamy and close and tight. He’s as hard as the cool marble surface digging painfully into your hips, and you’re as hot as steam and as wet and slick as this mirror and you’re melding into one another – not single bodies anymore but shapes and a mood and a feeling, and there is nothing else. 

“Princesa?” Santiago pleads, even as he tugs your jeans down over your ass, removing the bare minimum of clothing to give him access where he needs, the garment still tight and unforgiving around your thighs, not allowing you to move  - barely at all. “You need me?”

“Yes. Fuck me. Need you,” you beg, and you hear him spit unceremoniously into his hand -not that he’d need it- and slather it all over his length, groaning as he makes contact with his sensitive, needy dick as though he might spill over his knuckles with the anticipation of stuffing you full alone. 

Still, he holds on -by a thread – and your eyes roll back into your head as you finally feel the blunt tip of him notch clumsily at your need-swollen entrance. 

Then – ohhhhhh- then, there is the dull ache shortly after as the girth of him pushes through your wanting folds. You grunt at the initial stretch as he works himself inside of you, but pinned between the counter and his surging hips there is nowhere for you to go, and his need sinks into you inch by inch until he fills you all the way. 

You succumb to your ragged breaths and mewl for him, you arms practically giving way beneath you as you press them into the cool surface to keep you standing. He fills you, and God, you’ve missed this. Have missed how full you feel with him inside of you - in every sense of the word. The way his hands grip your hips in that specific spot he likes. 

You have missed his girth. Could swear you can feel every inch of him pressing outward against the tight grip of your heat as he fucks his cock into your hole, bottoming out with a delicious, wracked, stuttering moan, the sound alone causing pleasure to bloom around the drag of him deep inside you. 

Still, despite this fullness - you also feel the give of your walls to him, your slick and eager heat actively suckering him in. He stutters his hips as you clamp tightly around him and then, so help you, he finally begins to move. 

Jesus, this feels even better than his fingers, even better than you remember, and you relish every moment as he fucks into you, bareback and desperate, your pleasure coiling up impossibly quick as the straining mass of him works you open, hitting all of your sweet spots. Your legs tremble beneath you with adrenaline and want, and you feel Santiago’s thighs flush against the back of your legs, his hips snapping against the cushion of your ass as the counter edge bites painfully into your hinged hips. 

He's not taking his time with you. Not teasing or planning or thinking. You can tell by the undone grunts and groans he’s submitting to you already, that -for once- he is far too consumed by his own need to contemplate yours. Can tell by the sloppy pace of his thrusts and the lack of attention to your clit or your breasts or anything else but filling you - his hands fisting in the meat of your hips as he takes what he needs, gives what you crave – that he’s not even trying to make you come… but goddamn it if he isn’t going to get you there all the same. 

Soon too. 

God, the head of him is rubbing exactly where you need, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this good with a dick inside you. Your cunt is primed for him, still sensitive from where his fingers fucked you open and it isn’t going to take you long at all to reach your peak. 

Even without seeing him properly, in the misted-up mirror, you can tell that Santiago is going feral behind you. Filling you deeply and haphazardly, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin. 

You hear a snarl, and see a pearly flash of teeth as his lip curls up from how good you’re making him feel. 

“Fuucckk,” he groans, his head tipped back now, that pretty chin pointing up to the sky and his mouth dropping open – you can vaguely see in the mirror

His broad hand smooths firmly down the middle of your back and over your ass - grabbing handfuls of you- before he retraces his path, sliding his hand up between your shoulder blades and winding his hand in your hair, grabbing and pulling until your spine is curled back for him like a bow, your ass arced up and allowing him a deeper angle of penetration which sends tingles all the way to the tips of your toes when he hits just right. 

You practically yowl for him, your whole body trembling and shaking, sweat trickling down the centre of your cleavage as the layers you did not have time to dispense of overheat your skin. As your clit is nudged into the lip of the counter in a way that shouldn’t work for you, probably, but totally does, the intermittent slap of Santiago’s hips against you providing a pleasing rhythm. 

It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and cramped, and in some ways painful to be rammed up against the surface like this, but you wouldn’t tell him to stop for the world. You wouldn’t tell him to stop because the way he’s taking you feels divine, Santiago burying his want for you as deep as it will go, releasing his punctuated, abortive gusts of breath in time with his thrusts.

You feel drips land on the small of your back, and whether its water cascading from his dampened curls or beads of sweat from the exertion rolling down his temples you do not know or care. 

You only know that you want more. 

Determined as ever, you plant your hands firmly on the counter as he fucks you near boneless, driving through your hips until you meet his thrusts, working him up higher, finding the angle which hits just right and-

“Unnnngggg.” A whimper falls from his pretty mouth and his thrusts are suddenly far more shallow, slow, nudging against your nervy, sensitive entrance. His breaths are coming in deeper, heavy gusts now and you might be afraid that he was about to stop - if you weren’t so sure that he was, in fact, gearing up. 

“Santiago,” you complain as he blunts the sharp edge of your precipice with the break in rhythm. You urge him to give you more, and he uncurls his fingers from your hair and adjusts position. 

Obligingly, he wraps his stronger arm around your chest to guide you closer to standing, pressing his chest to your back, his head hooking over your shoulder. And, with his other arm, he reaches forward towards the steamed mirror, using his palm to clear a window from the condensation. 

“I wanna see you,” he rasps, a hoarse, gritty whisper in the shell of your ear. “Wanna watch you.” 

God, it’s too much. The way his arm is wrapped around your front, strong and yet tender as his forearm braces across your chest and his fingers dance tenderly over your jaw. The wracked, undone voice of him, whisper soft. The contrast between this and the certainty of his thrusts as he finds a new rhythm. As you find a new rhythm together, entirely in sync. 

Slowly, so slowly, he draws out of you, ensuring you can feel every single inch of him, the tantalising drag of him through your folds making your quiver. Then, he snaps back into you all at once, so suddenly shoving himself up into you, balls slapping against your ass, each repetition of this pattern building you up. God, you want him to spill himself inside you, and you think vaguely that it is the only thing which could quench you. 

It is your undoing when his eyes find yours in the mirror, and this all becomes real. No longer fantasy like your unreliable recollections of him all these months. No longer shapeless, tangled, blurry bodies, but now so very suddenly, you are looking at you and him, with all that means. 

The look in his eyes gives form to this act, as though the love settled in them is the very thing giving form to the way he fills you. He is at once stern - his brow burdened, heavy-lidded with need, his eyes sunk into a pit of desire - yet soft. His strong nose is crushed up against you as his lips caress your neck. His eyes dance over your face, taking you in as you languish up against him. 

His eyes are molten when they find you again, dancing with a soft, subtle heat not unlike firelight, long lashes fluttering in disbelief at the sight of you. At the feel of you wrapped around him. No longer just a body or some carnal need, shapeless and intangible. 

Instead, Santiago and you, and your bodies moving as one. 

His soft lips and rasp of stubble break from the column of your neck as his thrusts become sloppy, and you feel his hot breaths come thick and fast against your skin now. 

He missed you.

He missed you, and this is what he’d meant. Had meant he needed to feel you wrapped around his dick. Moaning his name. Needed to see you being his. Missed you being his. God, you missed that too, in so many ways. 

A moan rips through you as you approach your peak, and you plead profusely with him. 

“Don’t stop. Santi. Please.” 

You don’t ever want him to stop. 

As you clamp down on him, your fluttering core wrings his own orgasm from him too, and then he’s pulsing his load into you, thick and warm and abundant, his thighs quaking against yours and his arms gripping on to you more tightly – this time for purchase – as though this might be the time his knees finally buckle if he doesn’t hold on to you. 

You can feel his racing heartbeat hammer from his chest to yours as he holds you flush to him. Can feel his mouth suck at the column of your neck, his tongue sliding along your pulse point and tasting your perfume. 

You come down from your high, thrumming with it. Wet and messy between your legs as Santi drags his softening dick out of you, letting your juices and his seed slip down your inner thighs. 

You feel good. Blissed out. But, as ever, with you and Santiago, there’s always a catch. The joy is immense, but, guaranteed that one of you - if not both - will find a way to ensure it is short-lived. 

Indeed. All too soon, you begin to feel that creeping sense of regret hollow-out your stomach. 

You can see it on his face too. The uncertainty. The lack of understanding of what this all means. About what to do next. It is evident from the way he so quickly moves away from you, picking up his shorts and t-shirt and covering up his body. Similarly, you hike up your jeans without even cleaning up, and as much as you might have hoped for a joyful, intimate moment, you know that it’s already too late for that. The moment that the insecurity, doubt and uncertainty had crept in on each of your faces it had become self-reinforcing. A spiral. Running in circles. 

“Shit,” you sound out, in a clear peal of regret, planting a hand over your face in distress - despite everything. 

“Sounds about right,” Santiago agrees in a monotone, brows drawn down and his gaze fixing on a spot of tile, unable to look you in the eye, despite having been buried inside you only moments ago. 

“No,” you stress, bringing a second hand to your face. There’s something else. Something that makes you feel stupid and sick. “I…. I mean, shit. I changed my birth control up and I… I mean we…” Santiago snaps his eyes back up to you now, alright. You curse when you note the writhing of his taut jaw, set and a little annoyed. Your softly puffed expletive which follows is contrite, but it doesn’t help. 

It’s not like you -or him- to make a mistake like that. And yet, you had all the same. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You bristle at his harsh, accusatory tone. How quickly things sour. “It’s not like you checked!” It is his turn to bristle now, and so you opt to be harsher still. “Besides, I didn’t exactly think you were going to be quite so quick on the trigger, Santi.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his riposte about his stamina not even required. He got you off, didn’t he? So, your attempted distraction is futile, as he manages to stay alarmingly on topic. You fold your arms across your chest as he steps towards you, feeling on the back-foot as his flattened palm nags through the air to punctuate his words. “It didn’t occur to you to mention that before we fucked?” 

“I forgot. I switched up my method and I’m not technically covered yet. It’s marginal, you know. Most likely fine. I mean, what’s another 24 hours? Besides, I didn’t exactly plan on this, did I?” 

He scoffs, then he purses his mouth until much of the colour drains from his lips. “Oh yeah. Sure you didn’t.” 

You raise your eyebrows, and jut a hip out to the side for good measure. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Santiago shakes his head softly. Plants his hands on his wide hips, making himself larger. You don’t shrink back from him, but you note it. “For real?” He flashes his line of teeth now, a lopsided, disbelieving lilt of his lips – no happiness in it. Not at all. “I know you love to pretend like I’m the bad guy, right? That serves your narrative or whatever? Bullshit, honey. You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.” You snort out a huff of air through your nose, your look all steel as you prepare to deny his claims. You falter though, with his next words. “I can’t get off without you, Santiago?” he mimics, and your comeback dies on your lips. “You wanna put this all on me now? Believe me, I gave it everything I had to stay out of-“

“-My vagina? Yeah, great job, Pope.” You throw your hands up in the air and they slump right back down again. “You’ve had everything up in there except your damn tongue.”

“Let’s go then, sweetie,” he challenges, nodding to the rear of you, his voice taut rather than inviting. “Hop up on the counter and spread your legs, I’ll make it 3 for 3.”

It’s unfamiliar to you, this tone of his. It makes your heartbeat rage. You swear you can even feel the pulse of it in your tongue. “Fuck. Whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Your adrenaline spikes at the prospect of another argument and you turn on your heel, looking for an exit. 

However, before you can retreat, Santiago’s broad palm contacts your arm to stop you – open hand, no force applied – and you turn your head over your shoulder. “At least tell me you’re going to take care of this,” he bites off, with a clear attempt to restrain his aggravation, expression sullen. 

“Of course I am.”

“How?” 

You think. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning. I’ll deal with it.” You pump your brows emphatically. “Okay?” 

You shrug his hand off of you then with apparent disdain for his touch, and in spite of his (relative) tolerance of your acerbic tone, that is apparently the move which fractures his composure. “You know what actually blows my mind? The way you can be nice to me just long enough to get yours. Pretty fucking convenient.” 

You feel your face twist with the weight of a sour expression, mirroring his. “Why are you always like this?” You don’t wait to hear his answer, the adrenalin propelling you away, down the hall and closer to your room, but his footfalls follow closely behind you, hot on your heels. Your voice is a whispered hiss, as, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the need to keep it down – the other boys are lights out by now. “Why can you never just fuck me and be happy about it, huh?” You spin to face him, chest to chest and facing off. 

“I knew this was a fucking mistake.” 

Your pulse is in your throat. “Right. Maybe it was. That’s all I ever was to you, I guess.” 

Your voices raise, slowly creeping up in volume as you each get lost in this intimate bubble of angst. Of resentment. On some level, you know you could stop now - before it gets worse and you say things you will only regret (or worse, hear things you’ll wish you hadn’t). You know that you should stop, but it feels… oddly necessary. 

Like it’s inevitable. Like you’ve been waiting all this time to fuck and fight because it’s all you know how to do with him anymore. At least, it’s all you know how to do when loving him heart and soul seems off the table. 

The space your bodies create is tight, leaning into each other’s circle of personal space. 

Santiago’s fingers bridge like a claw and he taps them against his own chest, his eyes needling you like he could sew this up once and for all. Tie off all those loose threads of blame which sit frayed between you. He’s angry. Angry and riled and pissed and even so, there is still this eerie sense of calm about him. 

You’ve seen him really let loose. You’ve seen him kill, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’s still measured and restrained in the face of you. That should make it easier to bear the brunt of his sharp edges, but that’s not quite so. There’s something about the precision of his anger when it’s focussed on you. The fact it feels so considered, so targeted only makes it cut deeper. “You know what? I’m tired as shit of always being the fucking bad guy here. You wanna get into it, huh?” His voice breaks now, splitting like shrapnel, lodging in your chest. “I told you I love you and you fucking left me.” 

“That’s fucking bullshit!”  

He’s not happy that you said that. He rocks from foot to foot like he’s priming for something. Scoops a hand over his jaw, around his taut mouth. You’re close enough to hear it rasp, the fleck of his stubble bristling against his palm. “Oh, it’s bullshit?”

Your voice comes out hot now, your words bitten off between your teeth, flecks of spit cast from your mouth. “Yes! Because if I hadn’t left you never would have told me! You told me because I left you! You told me to fucking punish me. To try and drag me back in.” 

“Wow. Jesus fucking...” He laughs, but it is a cold, brief sound. “That’s fucking rich, cariño.” His eyes glint like knife licks, and he plants his hand indignantly against his chest, jutting up his chin. Puffing up his chest and making his body all angles. Protecting himself. “That’s really what you think of me, huh?” You try to look away from him, but his eyes chase you for an answer. 

Is it? Is that what you genuinely think of your best friend? Is that what you think he’s done to you? Tried to do? 

If so, no wonder you’re so fucking angry. No wonder your body is trembling with it. 

But the truth is, when pushed on it, you have no intelligible retort you can form. No evidence you can offer. So, instead, in your panic over losing ground, you opt to minimise. You throw your hand up dismissively and you turn on your heel, stomping towards your door at the end of the hall. “Fuck this.”

This time, his footsteps do not follow, even if you can still feel his eyes boring into your back. You think that might even be the end of things, until…

“No,” he sounds. A forceful, robust note which fills the whole hallway. A command to wait. This isn’t over. 

With you and him, it’s never going to be over, is it? 

You turn towards him and he is fixed in position, stance set wide and chin dipped down, eyes blackened half moons as he looks at you. “Just let me get this straight. If I’m the one who drags you back in? What the shit do you call what you just did?”

You scoff. “You were a very willing participant, Pope. Or, I dunno. Why don’t you just consider it payback for all the times you fucked me around?” 

He’s biting words back as he listens to you now. You can see them, in the tilt of his head and the flare of his nostrils. In the flip and curl of his tongue settled around his upper lip, dragging back and forth just below his filtrum. “Revenge, then? Really? Is that what this weekend has been about for you? You really that vindictive?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismiss him again, as though not one of his complaints about you can possibly be valid. Or, rather, revealing you are currently unwilling to admit it even if they are. After all, you’re as stubborn as he is. Each of you trying so desperately to palm off the blame for how fucked up this became. 

Santiago paces towards you then, footfalls rhythmic and steady as he swallows the space between you in the hall. “Jesus. You don’t even give a shit, do you? Think I deserve to have my heart crushed into fucking dust?” 

Hot, angry tears spike at the corner of your eyes as you spit your words, jabbing his shoulder with your pointer finger. “Like you give a shit that I left?” 

His dense brows draw down, his whole face a grimace, his voice practically booming throughout the hallway, close enough that the sound of it rumbles in your chest. “I don’t know how else I can say it. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Yeah? Well you never fucking had to!”

Santiago is the one who turns from you now, pacing back in a loop, both hands lifting and dragging backward through his grizzled curls, flattening them to his head in disbelief. He rounds back to you, spittle glistening on his lower lip from his tirade. He’s waving his arms now, everything being thrown upward just like the hideous lurch in your stomach. “You’re the one who ran from this!”

Well, that’s the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. You fold your arms to your chest, becoming guarded and taut where he becomes more frenzied. “Oh ho ho,” you scoff. “Now that’s a grade A delusion, right there.” He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side in a long, disbelieving drag. In denial. Still. “You’ve been running, Santiago. You’ve done nothing but run from this. Even the whole time I was right next to you. Especially then.”

He steps towards you, driving your body back into the door without making a scrap of contact with you. From the force of him alone. He leans his face in real close, his movements disconcertingly slow - cautious and deliberate. It’s not threatening – you don’t feel physically unsafe at all - but you can tell from the flare of his nostrils and that gunpowder glint in his eye that while his movements may be constrained, he’s still arming himself with a coming barrage. 

You flatten yourself – your back to the shut paneled door-  and Santiago lifts his hand, reaching up to you. Pincering your chin deceptively tenderly between his thumb and forefinger, making sure you look at him. “Right. And you’ve been so perfect, huh?” His eyes needle you, making it impossible for you to wheedle out of this one. To dismiss him. He’s making sure you take at least some accountability for your part in this. “Fucking other guys to get back at me? Insisting we keep it a secret? Pissing off to another fucking continent, two days early, by the way, before we’d even put things right?” You break eye contact, your vision of him blurred by wilful tears. He releases your chin from his grip then, but the space between you remains tight. Close, even as you feel a million miles from him. “Christ - it’s like you never fucking wanted this to work. Never believed I was worth it. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Hot, spiking tears spill over onto your cheeks. You scrub them away with a flattened palm but it still doesn’t slow them down. 

“Please,” you beg limply, shaking your head from side to side. You want him to stop this. You just want this to be over. 

“I was never the guy someone would bring home to their mama, was I? Too fucked up and too broken for that? Hands too bloody, right, to be good enough for you?” You balk audibly in protest at his words, but even so, it sends a hot flash of heat to your cheeks. 

Is there some truth in it? 

Had you been afraid of what he’d done, even though the blood on his hands matches yours? Or… maybe because of it? 

Your lower lip begins to tremble as the ire in Santiago’s eyes burns you, hot like coals. But he has more to say. “I get it. It’s easier to blame me for everything that got fucked up, right?” He beats his palm emphatically against his chest and flattens it there. “I’m hardly a fucking Saint, I’ll admit that much. But do you honestly think that I ever wanted to hurt you? That this doesn’t fucking hurt me?” 

No. You want to say “no”. No. That’s not what you believe at all, but instead the words that find their way out are cruel and petty. “Well you did. You hurt me!” 

You wish you could get rid of it, this anger in your chest. You only want to love him… but you tried that, and since it didn’t work, it somehow feels like the anger is all you have left to fill this hole in your middle.

His eyes tighten, and Santiago jabs his finger back and forth, his voice hoarse as he pushes the words out from the pit of his chest. “It never mattered, what I did or didn’t do. It was never going to be good enough for you.” 

“That’s not true. At all!” You spit back. “It’s you who thought that. Not me. Not me. You wouldn’t even fucking try.”  

Santiago scrubs a tear away from his own cheek now. His voice creaks and cracks apart. “I tried. I did. But you only want me under certain conditions right. If I quit. If I get out. Maybe if I’m someone fucking else.”

“That’s not fair, that’s not how it is. For fuck’s sake, Santi.”

You are both entirely undone now with this ugly rage, tears wetting your cheeks, and this resentment and blame twisting your words and your faces into something unrecognisable. 

That makes it all the worse when Frankie’s torso pokes out of his door in the hallway. You know that the two of you are not yourselves. Frankie’s face twists with disappointment and concern in equal measure, and you fold your arms across your chest defensively, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing you this way. At your worst. Why do you and Santiago always seem to bring out the worst in each other? You’d swear blind to anyone that he’s the best person you know. 

“Guys. What the fuck?” Frankie ventures. His voice is grogged by sleep, and you get the feeling he would step out into the hall if he wasn’t entirely nude behind the door frame. 

Feeling suddenly ashamed, with the contrasting softness of Frankie’s eyes on yours, you feel the urge to run from yourself and what you’ve become, all twisted up like this. You push past Santiago in the hallway, storming down the stairs as tears now cascade freely down your cheeks. You don’t even make an attempt to mop them up now, letting them course down and drip from the point of your chin. 

Then, with an aggravated sigh, Santiago follows you too, in pursuit, despite Frankie’s barked pleas that he “leave it alone, cabrón”. 

You push out of the threshold and into the night, the cooler air a welcome relief. You pace away from the house, wanting to leave it, to leave him entirely, but your body will not let you. Will not carry you far enough away, and your steps quickly run out of steam. 

When Santiago finds you, you are stood with your back to him, looking out towards the white crash of waves. He comes and stands next to you, hands gently clenched by his sides. 

“Look,” he begins, staring out at the expanse of water. You feel your anger cresting and with it comes a wave of sadness. “I love you. But maybe you’re right. Maybe… we’re not good for each other. Maybe we just… can’t make each other happy.” 

You shake your head softly. Tip your eyes to the sky to stave off yet more tears. “I just wish we’d never changed things.” You wish more than anything that you could simply swallow it. Go back to how things were before. 

“Don’t,” Santi implores, turning to you with his hands cupped as though in offering, soft and haphazard and trying to catch on your elbow, your shoulder, your hand. “Don’t say that. Please. No matter how fucked this got… You’re the best thing I ever-” 

But, your anger is not done. Your palms raise in the air, forming a barrier between your bodies - a defence against his brutal love - and you snatch yourself away from him. Your voice is once again harsh as it rings in accusation, words tearing from your lips like bullets. “-Let go?”

There is a beat. 

“Seriously. You’re gonna stand there and tell me I could I have fucking stopped you?” 

You raise your palms and plant them to your face, splayed fingers tugging in disbelief from your temples, sliding down to your mouth - drawing your cheeks into a grimace. You look at him and his face is once again taut with blame. His mouth a thin, downturned line. But even now….. Somehow, even now, you want to kiss him. Want to kiss him until he is soft again, like you know he can be. 

Why would he never turn soft for you - not all the way? Soft in your arms? Why would he never? 

He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot under your scrutiny. He sees the anger melt away from your face, but his is not done. “I mean, fuck. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to come with you? Just drop everything?” 

“Just stop, Santi,” you plead, weakly, but there’s no way he heard you over his own tirade.

“My whole career. This shit I’ve got going on with Lorea. Pick-up and move here? Huh? Tell me? What do you want from me?” 

You fold your arms across your chest, closing yourself off to him. “Please, just drop it.” 

“You want me to have dinners with you and your family on Sundays? Take the nephews to the playpark, huh?” 

He won’t stop. He won’t stop talking, stop pushing you, and you can’t take it. You’re going to snap. 

“Go fucking grocery shopping? And get married and have babies and-?” 

“Yes!” you finally yell, your whole body craning forward as you fire your answer out through your throat, the word coming out scuffed and sudden; but nothing if not truthful. Your eyes go wide, quivering with tears as well as the shock of your revelation. The shock of revealing something you can barely even admit to yourself. 

That is what you want. With him. 

Santiago is evidently as shocked as you are too. Stunned into silence, in fact. He takes a perceptible step back from you, punching out a breath like he’s just been struck with a body shot. All the tension drops from his limbs, and his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

But, instead of backtracking, from somewhere, somehow, you finally find the courage to stand in your truth. “Yes,” you say shakily. “I want that, you asshole.” And, at those words, you interpret the most repulsive thing you’ve seen in his eyes all night. Pity. “And you, meanwhile? You’d rather get shot in the guts than do that with me, wouldn’t you? Something so mundane as being happy? Something so fucking worthless as loving me?” You tear your head away from him, whip your gaze away as you cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bear to see your true wants rejected. With a final question, you stab your pointer finger against your sternum with enough force that it hurts. “I’m not a mission, so I’m not worth it right? Not important?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor, to a neutral spot between you. His voice all but cracks apart, small and broken. “I told you that I love you.” 

“That wasn’t enough!” You bite your words off before you can even think, and his eyes snap back up to yours then. Wounded. Glassy. You regret the words as soon as you have spoken them, but it is far too late to recall them now. You can see that they cut him - and you can even understand why they would hurt. What an awful thing to have said, you think; that his love wasn’t enough. 

It was everything. 

Everything. 

Wasn’t it? 

Even so, here you stand, still waiting and hoping that he can offer you something more than that alone. A solution, perhaps. A way to fix this. 

Instead though, Santiago simply nods slowly. Contemplatively. In resignation. He stands eerily still. Eerily quiet. Entirely stoic. “Right. Well.” His hand rasps back and forth over his stubble, and his voice is entirely sunken. Defeated. He’s a soldier. Your friend. Your lover. But most of all, now he’s someone who appears to have stopped fighting for you. He looks you in the eye, all of his anger dissipated. Voice scrubbed clean and entirely dispassionate. “That’s too bad then. Because I don’t have anything else I can give you.”

He turns from you now, and you grab onto his arm. “Believe me. The only thing I ever wanted from you… With you, was a future, Santiago.”  

It breaks your heart when he quietly, slowly extricates his arm from your grasp, slipping through your fingers like fine sands. Did you really think that you could do that? That you could keep on pushing him, without eventually pushing him away? 

A divot notches in his brow. “Mmm-hmm. Well I guess we fucked any shot at that now, didn’t we?” 

You search his ashen eyes - almost in desperation - for some of that all too familiar fire. For any sort of spark for you. 

Godammit, as soon as the anger has gone, you want it back. You want something; only because it seems a damn sight better than nothing at all. 

You can’t handle it - the thought that any future with him is being taken off of the table once and for all. You know - if you step back from this - that you’ve been far from perfect. That you’ve been bitter, volatile, reactive. Maybe even cruel, at times. You know, in truth, that you shouldn’t be so hung up on the past -on what happened all those months ago and beyond- but it’s the only thing Santiago has ever given you to dwell on. How were you supposed to move on, when he’s never been able to look ahead with you?

Still, all of a sudden, being faced with any and all possibilities of a future with him being ripped away from you, it is all you want to talk about. The past and your grievances and the blame now seem wholly irrelevant. You feel bile rise into your mouth. “Listen. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just… How do we get past this, Santiago? That’s what matters.”

He stops, halting his retreat back to the house. He turns, slowly. And, Santiago takes your hands into each of his. Looks at you solemnly, as your eyes flit over his face in doubt and fear and regret. He bundles your hands up together, sandwiching them together between his warm, steady palms and he gives them a squeeze - full of finality. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t,” he sounds, flatly, voice scrubbed clean of emotion. And, the only thing worse than hearing his words out loud, is that he looks like he believes them. 

For once, Santiago “Pope” Garcia seems cold, and it hurts more than any of his fire has ever burnt you. Maybe the anger, horrible as it feels, is better. Because it is better than nothing. Better than losing him altogether. 

After all, what is it that happens when the fire goes out? 

Well, you suddenly feel like you’re about to find out. 

You suddenly feel like it’s truly about to be over. 

And so, you clasp your hands over your mouth and you sob, fleeing towards the interior of the house, because you have no place else left to run but away from him.

[boltupbitches]

One Day at a Time - Justin Herbert

Prompt:

Can you do a Justin Herbert one where let's say you have a situationship. You find out he's seeing someone else and you want a commitment. Says he's not ready then a few weeks after you find out you're pregnant and keep it from him. A friend accidentally shares your gender reveal on instagram and he does the math so he knows it's his daughter. He comes over and is mad at first but then yall argue it out. Happy ending please.

This entire situation was fucked from the get-go. Situationships, friends-with-benefits, fuck buddies.. Whatever label you wanted to use to describe a no-strings relationship. What ended up being a one night stand after meeting at a bar in Eugene turned into 6 months of hook ups and hangouts.

Yet, Justin never made the move to make it official with his ‘friend’ Alex. At least, she was very certain they weren’t even friends at all because friends don’t fuck every time they link up.

Justin’s constant dodging of the conversation she wanted to have with him reached a boiling point when she caught on to a rumor online about him hooking up with a reality tv star. The same night he avoided coming over, avoided her texts and calls, and essentially ghosted her.

Then, the news broke and the reality tv starlet leaked the private DMs he sent to the media.. Creating an even bigger frenzy.

Alex was heartbroken and mad. Mad that he was leading her on and mad that she gave him the opportunity to do so countless times.

That’s how they ended up here at her apartment, fighting over the situation.

She had sent him one final text saying ‘whatever this is is done.’

A half hour later he was at her door, acting shocked by her decision.

“I just want a straight answer from you for once!” She shouted at him as he turned his back towards her, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Stop yelling, Alex.” He demanded.

“No.. see what you’re not going to do is talk to me like a fucking child. I am not one and you are going to listen to me. I’m tired of the games, Justin. You’ve been playing games with my heart for months and we both fucking know it. I just want some transparency and you can’t be decent enough to give that to me! So, what is this officially and where do you see it going?” She demanded.

He was silent again, not looking at her.

“Well?” Her eyes were tearing up as she stared at his back. “Nothing? You can’t even fucking look at me when I’m talking to you?” She bit her lip, trying to fight back the tears.

He turns around and stares at her, his eyes impassive. “Alex.. I.. I’m not ready to commit to anything. I’m sorry, ok? I just.. I am young and I’m enjoying my career. Being settled down isn’t a priority to me at this point. Outside of football, I am not thinking about anything else commitment-wise.”

“Get out.”

“What?” He asked with a shocked expression.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment. Get the fuck out of my life. And fucking lose my number, you piece of shit!” She yelled at him, pointing her fingers towards her door. “Get out!”

He stares in shock once more. 

She doesn’t look at him and stares blankly down at the floor, schooling her face to not show anymore emotion to him.

“Alex..” He whispered pitifully.

“Just go.. Please.” She said back quietly, refusing to stare at him.

It was quiet for another moment or two and then she heard his footsteps pass her and go towards the door. She wished he had fought for her, but he didn’t.

The door closed behind her and when she heard his car start and pull out of her driveway, she finally collapsed to her knees, hugging herself tightly as she sobbed in heartbreak. 

She didn’t hear from him after that. Even though a small part of her hoped for him to come crawling back and to show he regretted it, she knew it was better he didn’t. What they had was unhealthy. Yet, she still held onto some hope that he would.

He didn’t.

A week later there would be another gossip column spreading around about Justin’s dating life, this time with a lingerie model. 

She was disappointed, but not surprised.

—---------------------------------------------------

A few months would pass and before Justin knew it, the season was over and with it a heartbreaking playoffs loss against the Jaguars.

He flew low after that, focusing on recovery post-surgery and keeping himself busy. And for once, that didn’t include dating.

Los Angeles had planted some habits in himself he swore he’d break free from before the pre-season training camp in the summer. One of those habits would be hookups and dating famous women. 

He found after the couple dates with the lingerie model that beyond their beauty, there wasn’t much substance to them. Instagram followers, brand endorsements, and sponsored trips were conversations he had with his business manager and PR specialist - not with a romantic interest.

He found also that his heart ached at times, his mind drifting to Alex and wondering how she was doing. She had blocked him on everything and from what he understood through mutual friends who remained oblivious to it all, she moved back to Eugene as well to live with her mom.

He missed her. He couldn’t deny that. Most of all, he regretted how he treated her and made her feel. The drive back from her place that evening she kicked him out was absolute hell. He couldn’t figure out what the deep pang in his chest was until he pulled into his driveway and put the car in park. There, he broke down crying.

He realized he loved her and then lost her all in the same day. It was his fault for leading her on and avoiding commitment. His stupid justifications were that if they remained in the situationship, the likelihood of hurting each other’s feelings would be less. 

Yet, looking back on it now, it made absolutely no fucking sense.

She was right - he led her on and broke her heart. And then she was done with his shit.

He ruined it. He didn’t even have the courage inside himself to go back and beg her for forgiveness, to take back what he said, and to apologize for hurting her.

No, instead he poured himself back into football, continued to go on dates with beautiful women that he had no interest in beyond surface level. Nights were lonely and he missed talking to Alex. Often, he’d pull up their text message threads, ignoring the most recent one and scrolling back to some of the good times they had.

Funny enough, thinking about her seemed to be a more common thing and Justin was certain God was now playing a cruel prank on him. Because what he came across next while scrolling Instagram was something he was NOT prepared for in any capacity. He sat in complete shock. It was as if every fiber in his being had turned to stone for those mere seconds his eyes scanned the images in front of him on his phone.

Snapping out of it, he quickly viewed the Instagram story again. It was from a mutual of his and his ex friend with benefits, Alex.

It was a gender reveal… for Alex... who was visibly pregnant and beautiful as the pink confetti from the poppers were floating around her.

And in that moment he knew. He had gotten her pregnant because there was no way she was out messing with other men. He knew better than to think that. She wasn’t that type.

But she apparently was the type to get pregnant and not fucking tell him.

The stirring of emotions in him at that very moment was more than he could comprehend. All he knew was that he was heading over to her place to talk whether she liked it or not. He wanted answers right then and there. And the two of them were both in Eugene. No better time than to pay a visit.

Justin could barely remember the drive to her mom’s house. He just knew she lived 25 minutes from him. By the time he came off auto pilot, he was in front of her door, knocking loudly.

There was no answer at first. Then, just as he attempted to knock again, the door swung open to reveal a sleepy Alex who had clearly just woken up. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, Oregon State pajama bottoms, and socks. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. 

She was rubbing her eyes and was just about to greet whoever was at the door when she realized who it was. 

They stared at each other in shock. Justin opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the door was being slammed in his face.

He stuck his foot in the doorway in just the split second he had and winced in pain at his foot being smashed in the doorway. “Fuck - wait Alex! Please!”

“No! Go away, Justin!” She yelled, using her own foot to try and nudge his out of the doorway, blocking her from shutting him completely out. “Seriously!?” She shouted as she felt him open the door wider with his good arm. Finally, she gave up and let go of the door, backing up to let him open it.

He did, proceeding into the house and bending down to rub his sore foot. “Fuck, Alex.. break my foot next time why don’t you..”

“Oh.. I gladly would. Who sticks their foot in the doorway like a dumbass?” She said rudely back.

He looked up at her, his expression showing how unimpressed he was with her attitude. “Well, clearly me because how else was I going to get you to talk to me?” He demanded. His eyes move instinctively to stare at the swell of her stomach showing beneath her baggy sweatshirt. “Alexandra.. We need to talk about this.” He nodded his head at her stomach.

She instinctively took a step back and wrapped her arms around her body. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There absolutely is.” He stood up, staring down at her with an upset expression. “When were you going to tell me that I got you pregnant?”

It was her turn to turn away from him and start walking to the living room. She ignored his calling of her name and waved her arm behind her, indicating for him to follow her. 

He did so without another word, still upset and still frustrated by everything. He didn’t know what to think or say. There was so much going on in his mind at that moment but anytime he tried to muster up the right words to convey the maelstrom going on in his mind, the words just wouldn’t string together and come out. 

She sat on the couch and gestured for him to do the same.

 He did, although he was unsure what she wanted him to do.

She reached forward towards a box he just now noticed that had his address on a shipping label. She was going to send him something.

Wordlessly, she handed the box over to him and watched as he used his house key to tear open the tape. He pulled the box open to find a beautiful wooden box with a cursive engraving that said, ‘Baby Girl Herbert. October 2023.’ He lifted the wooden box carefully out of its packaging and placed it gently on his lap.

His fingers traced the cursive lettering a few times as he stared at it. He knew what was inside it, but was stalling because the tears were already starting to form in his eyes. Justin looked up and made eye contact with Alex who smiled back at him tearfully, her eyes sad.

“Go on.” She urged gently.

And he did. He lifted the lid carefully and stared at the pink blanket that had patterns of ducklings on it. Carefully, he unraveled the blanket and found a copy of a sonogram, a baby onesie that said ‘dad’s #1 fan’, and a letter in an envelope. He didn’t know which to look at first, but his hand instinctively went to the letter.

He opened it and read it silently as Alex watched him with tearful, expectant eyes. 

Dear Justin,

I never imagined writing this letter to you - much less with how things ended between us. I want to get straight to the point. I am pregnant and she’s yours. I will gladly go through the court system and complete a DNA test if you’d prefer that for proof. I also would prefer this to remain quiet between us (including our legal counsel in the know and our immediate family) at this point because I am not interested in being in the news. 

I know this is shocking news to receive. I spent many nights trying to decide how I could even begin to approach you about this. I was terrified that you wouldn’t believe it given how we ended our situationship, and I was heartbroken. I told myself after finding out that I would take a few weeks to come to terms with this. It’s huge, Justin, we can’t deny that. 

Instead, time seemed to pass so rapidly and I just let time continue to pass. I am sorry you are finding out this way, and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want. I plan to keep her, but I understand if you prefer a minimal role given how much football means to you at this point in your life. I certainly understand that.

Please feel free to give my home phone at my mom’s house a call. I listed it below in this letter.

Regards,

Alex

Justin gulped, tears now spilling down his chest as he folded the letter back up and stared down at the baby onesie in the box. His hand shakingly picked it up as he stared at it in wonder. He couldn’t believe such a tiny person could fit into this, much less a tiny person he helped make that would wear this. He wondered what she would look like. Would she have his eye color or hair color? Would she have the same smile as his? His nose or eye shape? The more he thought about it, the more the tears flowed.

Finally, he placed it back gently into the box and lifted the sonogram next. In college he studied biology and always figured that if the NFL career didn’t work out, he would consider med school as his back up. Sonograms were interesting to him given the few he’d seen in passing.

His eyes studied the shape of the fetus, his eyes pouring over the details. 

“The technician said she’ll like by a long baby.” Alex’s voice broke him out of his spell.

He looked over to her, staring at her in interest as she continued to explain the current size of their unborn daughter. Justin listened - the one thing he wish he had done months ago. He listened as Alex listed off how far along she was, how many appointments she had been too, her expected due date, the heart burn she was suffering with currently, the nursery her mom set up in the spare room of the house. He listened to it all.

When it was quiet again, Justin slipped the sonogram back into the box and sat it gently on the coffee table in front of them.

Then, he slid to the ground gently, turning to kneel in front of Alex who was still sitting on the couch, staring at him in shock, unsure what he was doing.

Justin gently gripped knee and leaned forward to place his head in her lap. His large frame started to shake as he cried quietly into her lap.

Alex immediately started to sooth him, running one hand up and down his back as the other ran gently through his hair. “Justin.. It’s ok.” 

He shook his head gently and mumbled, but Alex couldn’t hear them.

“What?” She asked gently. “Please sit up. You’re going to hurt your knees kneeling like that.”

He stayed put for a few more seconds before lifting his head up and staring at her with red eyes. “I said.. I am so sorry for everything. I know this doesn’t fix things between us, nor does it take back how I treated you, but I truly, sincerely mean it. I am sorry for being such an asshole. I am sorry I hurt you and put myself first. I am sorry I haven’t been here. But, Alexandra? I am now,” He stared earnestly at her, “I am. I am not going anywhere. I want to be here for our daughter and I want to be here for you. Please, please allow me that chance.”

She nodded tearfully and cupped his face, her stomach making it a bit difficult to lean forward fully. “I will never ever keep you from her, Justin. No matter what happened or is going on between us.”

He nodded at that and looked down. “And us?” He asked hopefully.

She smiled at him, “One day at a time, ok?”

He smiled back sadly, knowing she was right. It would be one day at a time for them, but he was hell bent to build a better relationship for them going forward. It wouldn’t be easy - he knew that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to try however. He was going to make this work.

“One day at a time.” He agreed.

[weirdthinkingdragon]

A Permanent Cuddle Buddy

Yandere x touch starved chubby reader

prob rather self-indulgent but IDC

warnings: slight crying, some self deprecation, drugging, manipulation?, kidnapping

Something I’m thinking about is a cuddle buddy that’s rather rich from creating a company but still likes to keep it strongly on the downlow. No, he doesn’t have absurdly high prices for the service, they’re the exact same as any others. No, he doesn’t get stuck up with the poorer people. He knows what the empty loneliness is like. Sure, he could pay for the service, but that might be more open to giving away his status. Plus, he actually really likes the physical contact.

Off to you, someone who just gets by and has never been given next to any physical contact from non-family or a little contact with friends. Relationships and dating just never got anywhere so you just gave up and accepted you’ll probably just have the lonely life. 

Your friends decided to “prank”? you by buying a cuddle buddy for you for a few hours. 

Here he ends up at your place because your friends have a spare key you gave to one, and waited inside for him. 

You arrive back to your home not much later after they’ve been informing him of what they’ve one. 

He’ll admit it’s one of the weirder requests he’s gotten, but hey, it beats the last one where they wanted something that required a different service. And that was the one supposed to be later today so this would be his last for the day. 

As soon as you get back to your home, your friends leave you with said stranger after informing they bought him for you. 

It was extremely awkward at first, but he manages to get things rolling from doing this for months. At least, until touch was involved. You felt so disgusted in yourself compared to him. 

“you... uh, you don’t have to do this, you know?” 

Him hearing you say that makes him raise a brow in questioning. He doesn’t say anything though, giving you the ability to continue your reasoning. 

You glare at your stomach. “I’m obviously not thin, so it’s probably really uncomfortable. And since I didn’t pay for it, you could just say we did and leave, or hang out or whatever you want.” 

He’ll be honest, just looking at you is making it really hard not to just yank you down to lay on top of him. He wants so badly to deny everything you’re thinking vocally, but he knows that doesn’t always work right. 

He stands up and extends a hand to you, who’s still sitting on the couch. “You’re saying as if you’re the only one with your type of body. Honestly, I prefer it. And I’m more than willing if you’re okay with giving the chance to try. But the bed is a better place for a first time.” 

Your stomach tightens greatly with anticipation when grabbing his hand. 

Upon entering your room, the nerves come back again. “So... how exactly should-”

“You can lay on my chest. Don’t worry about crushing me, you won’t. Again, you’re not the first with your body type.” 

You still rathe cautiously do, until he yanks you down full force onto him. Just the mere full contact makes a few tears slip as you both get more situated. 

fuck he loves how you feel and your smell. the deadly mix of both is more intoxicating than any other he’s had. He knows already that it’s going to have to become a normal thing. He can’t let this be a one time thing only, free of charge too.

And somehow he does manage to soothe you into the idea. 

It becomes from a monthly to weekly, to almost daily. From either your house or going to his, it’s never long before you and him cuddle again. 

You eventually decide to stop though because your friends are right. recently you spend more time cuddling with him that hanging out with them. 

He nuzzles his face deeply into the side of your neck. You tried to tell him at his house. He asked you to at least have a goodbye meal with him to celebrate it going on for about a year already. 

That leads to now, your body being drugged and barely responsive to moving while he sits behind you, caging you in on his bed. 

“I don’t think so. You’re never leaving me now. I refuse to be without your touch ever again. 

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

maybe I’ll add or do more to the idea later. I really like the idea. A human cuddle buddy sounds so damn good too lol. 

[texasbama]

oh I AM WALKING

Like……i just. Hm. Okay. So like

Season 8: Buck is exploring and having fun with his newly discovered sexuality. With tommy or whoever. Doesnt matter. We see Eddie dealing with the layers and complexity of his catholic guilt. Him starting to truly discover what it actually is HE wants for himself versus what he think’s supposed to want.

Buck throughout the season, while dating, is having fun and he’s happy but he starts to feel like there is just still something missing but he doesn’t know what it is. We see the boys stories parallel in that way for most of the season. S8 finale. Big emergency cliffhanger. Trapped dads vibes okay. Perhaps feelings come out. Buck realizes “oh shit. Im in love with Eddie” and tries to tell Eddie but then something bad happens. Bam! End of season.

Season 9: buck is reeling from this realization but like. They almost died so all emotions are on 10. They are in the hospital talking about everything but the elephant in the room. They talk about the will and what it means. Its heavy. Eddie telling Buck again that there is no one else for his son. No one else for HIM. “Its only ever been you Buck” and they are just sitting in this moment with so many words left unsaid. Both of them scared of the magnitude of their feelings.

The season continues as both of the boys try and navigate through what it means to be in love with your best friend. Eddie possibly working through having feelings for a man. Buck scared of losing what they have but also knowing that Eddie is it for him. Maybe mid season, they finally sit down and talk. Buck tells Eddie in so many words: I want you. I want this life we have made together with Chris. I love you. Eddie feels the same way. they both agree: we need to be sure, because once we go there, there is no going back. This could be a great thing for both of them but they have to be ready for it.

Now as 9B goes on, we see flirty Buddie. We see them basically together but not together ya know? They are happy taking their time cause they know the wait will be worth it. Now of course cause this is a primetime drama, some very traumatic/ dramatic will happen in the season finale. Now while nothing happens to the boys physically, whatever big ugly thing that happened, they just want to be with each other afterwards. They are each other’s home. We get a scene in the finale of them at Eddie’s house, on the couch. Eddie basically says that he doesn’t know if he will ever be 100% ready (more to do with his feelings about his own shortcomings) but that he is 100% sure about them. About Buck. He says I love you. Buck says it back. Then Buck proceeds to give his own love declaration. All these beautiful words about how Eddie has been what he has been looking for all this time. That this life is short (they understand that better than most) and he wants to spend whatever time he has left with Eddie and Chris. Cue first kiss. Cue thousands of fan girls dying. End season.

Season 10: now that they are together i feel like the lead up to an engagement could be fun. They are all happy and in love and they are sappy and Chris is making fun of them. Maybe on a call, or somewhere else Buck introduces Eddie as his fiancé and Eddie is like ????? And we get some fun spiraling. Eddie talks to Hen or something. “I would know if I was proposed to right? I mean we’ve only been together a few months???” And Hen is just like “yall have been Buck and Eddie for much longer than that” so that leads to Eddie asking Buck about it. Buck is like yea I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you remember??? And Eddie is like that isn’t a proposal! A proposal usually includes a question like WILL YOU MARRY ME? Again. We’re having fun with this. So Buck is all like okay. Eddie, will you marry me? eddie thinks he’s joking but he’s not. The moment goes from light and fun to intimate and emotional. We get some more “you’re it for me. I love you” Buck is choosing Eddie. Eddie is being chosen. Eddie is choosing to be happy for himself. Eddie says yes. BAM! LET THE WEDDING PLANNING COMMENCE.

(Now obviously this is just idiots ramblings. These are bones and they story would need meat and muscles to become fully fleshed out but. I just. Ya know. Had feelings)

[amhrosina]

Holidate (Frank Castle x fem! Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST

A/N: Hi hi hi! Writing this was wild and took over my social life for a second there. This hasn’t been beta read, or edited yet (lmfao), but it’s 13k words and I’m very proud of it. Please enjoy! (Matt Murdock next????) 

Summary: Holidate – a prearranged fake date that you can bring to family holiday events to avoid awkward conversations about your love life.  

When reader realizes she’s the last single person in her family, a run-in with an old acquaintance sparks a genius idea that could get her family off her back once and for all. 

(Warnings: slow burn, pining, fake dating, brief description of a severe injury (it’s in the fourth of july section), cursing, eventual smut (p in v, oral (fem receiving)), no use of y/n, wholesome family content, Frank in a bunny suit, let me know if I missed any bc it’s 1:30am and I'm tired lmfao

New Year’s Eve: 

The bass of the club speakers pounded in your skull, sparking a fresh wave of annoyance within you. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. You were supposed to be somewhere nice, celebrating the new year with your loving and loyal boyfriend of four years, Ben. But Ben was an asshole who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to realize he had butt dialed you while he was knee deep in “the best pussy he’s ever had”.  

You rolled your eyes at the memory. You weren’t even that upset about it – Ben had become a dull and predictable aspect of your daily routine. The spark that had ignited your affection for him had died out months before you found out he was cheating. It was a brutal wake-up call, though.  

Your life, you realized, had become entirely too comfortable, which limited your ability to grow as a human being. The few weeks without Ben leading up to New Year’s Eve had taught you a lot about yourself, but you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely when you looked around and saw happy couples everywhere. 

Your sister was happily married to her high school sweetheart. Your mom and dad were disgustingly in love with each other, even after almost 30 years together. And your idiot baby brother had chosen tonight at dinner to announce his engagement to Kim, his girlfriend of 3 months.  

After the obligatory congratulatory toasts, your mother’s attention had fallen on you. You had tried so hard to get out of the room before she could open her mouth, but your mom had spent enough time with you to know your tricks and had managed to corner you by the bathroom. 

“Sweetie, I want to introduce you to someone. My OB/GYN has a new set of interns, and one of them is very cute.”  

“You’re worried about my,” you paused for effect, “vaginal health, Mom?”  

 “No, of course not, though you should probably get it checked out after the whole Ben fiasco. I don’t even want to think about where he put his pe-” 

“Okay, thanks for that, Mom. Really. I just have to pee now.” You slid against the wall until you could grab the doorknob and slip into the bathroom, effectively shutting the door in your mom’s face. You had hidden yourself in the bathroom for 15 full minutes before finally facing your family again. Then, Sammy had the bright idea to take all the siblings out clubbing to celebrate his engagement.  

That’s how you ended up here, surrounded by sweaty, drunk partygoers who apparently had so much to celebrate. It was 10 minutes to midnight, and you were doing everything in your power to make it to the exit before you had to be surrounded by sweaty, drunk, kissing partygoers.  

The club was so packed you had barely made it five feet before you gave up your efforts, deciding to chug the rest of your drink when the clock struck midnight as your midnight kiss. You watched the dance floor from your vantage point on second floor balcony. An overwhelming presence next to you had your back stiffening.  

You turned, ready to tell the guy off, but you lost your voice somewhere between “Fuck off, buddy” and “Not interested”. You definitely knew the guy from somewhere, but you couldn’t put your finger on where that might be. His size was intimidating, and you could tell he was absolutely ripped, but his eyes weren’t those of a drunk asshole. In fact, the look on his face told you he recognized you from somewhere, too.  

“Do we know each other?” You had to yell over the music for him to hear you.  

“You don’t remember me?” He was smiling, and you knew that smile, but you couldn’t put your finger on how you knew it. You studied his face, trying to remember. Dark hair and eyes, strong eyebrows, and a big nose.  

“Oh!” You exclaimed suddenly, “You’re Eagle!” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”  

“You were the TA for my Psych class, right? Like six years ago? Frank, right?” You grinned at him.  

“You do remember!” He smiled wide for a second, but quickly furrowed his eyebrows in confusion again. “What did you call me? Eagle?” 

“Oh god,” you groaned, running your hand over your face. “We used to call you that. The girls in the class, I mean. You know what they say about men with big noses?” 

Frank let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.  

“I didn’t think anyone in those classes even knew I existed. That was the easiest job I’ve ever had. The professor wouldn’t let me do anything, and I still got paid.” 

“So, I don’t have you to thank for the A, then?” 

“Sorry, I guess you did that on your own.” He shrugged, sipping his drink and smiling. “Did you come with someone? Where’s your date?” 

You raised your cup to your mouth, gulping down a mouthful of alcohol in response.  

Frank chuckled and nodded. “Ah, I see.” 

The clock began chiming, starting the 60 second countdown to the new year.  

“Where’s your date?” 

Frank smiled and gulped down the rest of his drink, copying the response you had given him. You raised your glass, and he clinked his against yours in solidarity.  

When the countdown got to 10, you awkwardly shuffled back and forth on your feet. The couples around you were gravitating towards each other, grabbing each other’s hands and holding their drinks up in the air. You and Frank watched as the clock hit 0, silver and gold confetti floating down from the ceiling and coating the kissing couples on the dance floor.   

Your brother seemingly appeared out of nowhere, tugging his fiancé behind him.  “Hey! We’re going!”  

You nodded, turning to Frank. “I have to...” you trailed off, pointing towards your brother with your thumb, “but it was nice to see you again. Happy New Year, Frank.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” He grinned, nodding. 

You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, wondering if you’d ever see him again. Fortunately for you, you didn’t have to wonder for long.  

A few days later, you parked your car in the mall parking lot, sighing as your mother continued her rant from the passenger seat. 

“All I’m saying, sweetie, is that you should get out more. When’s the last time you left the house besides New Year’s Eve? What about one of those dating apps?” 

“I don’t want to date anyone right now, Mom. I’m trying to find myself, you know?” 

She scoffed. “Oh, please.” 

You followed her into the mall, clutching the items you had bought for Ben before the untimely death of your relationship. Your one and only plan for the rest of your week off work was to return the gifts, but your mother had insisted on going with you, claiming she had some shopping to do. You couldn’t imagine what she could possibly need this soon after Christmas, but you didn’t want to argue with her about it.  

 It took forever, but you were finally at the last store you needed to make a return at. It would’ve been an easy in and out if your mom hadn’t stopped to look at every single sweater in the store. The sound of your name being called perked you out of your thoughts. 

“When I said see you around, I didn’t realize it would be this soon after.”  

Frank walked towards you, clutching a return receipt in his hand. You waved your receipt back at him. 

“You didn’t like a gift?” You asked, eyeing the receipt.  

“Oh, uh,” Frank scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, “No. I bought it for someone, but it didn’t end up working out.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Same. I think we may have more in common than I thought. Same girl that left you alone on New Year's?” 

“The one and only.” He chuckled, shuffling his feet.  

The sound of your mother’s voice so close to your ear startled you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to you. 

“Who’s this?”  

She had a devious smile on her face, and it took everything in you not to outwardly groan. 

“This is Frank. He was my-” Frank cut you off, reaching forward to shake your mom’s hand. 

“Friend in college. Nice to meet you. We were just talking about regrettable Christmas gifts.” 

“Oh!�� Your mom eagerly shook his hand, sending you a wink over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell her she needs to get out more. You know, her boyfriend ch-” 

“I don’t think he’s interested in hearing about my love life, Mom.” This conversation derailed far too quickly for your liking. 

“Honey, I’m just trying to help. Frank is very handsome.” 

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You probably resembled a tomato more than a human being. 

“Thank you, Mom. Very helpful.” You gritted through your teeth. Your mother was nothing if not sneaky. She sent you a smirk and turned back to Frank. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Frank. I hope I’ll be getting to see more of you soon.”  

You gaped at her as she made her way back towards the cashmere sweaters, dreading having to look back at Frank. When you finally faced him, he was clearly trying hard not to laugh in your face.  

“I’m sorry,” You groaned, running your hand through your hair, “My mom can be very forward.” 

Frank let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s okay. It sounds like she just wants you to be happy.” 

“She has an interesting way of showing it. I mean, being single on holidays isn’t that pathetic, right? Plenty of people are single. Like Emma Watson! She’s been single since forever and she’s thriving! Oh god, you probably don’t want to hear this either. I’m sorry. I ramble when I get nervous.” 

You regretted ever getting out of bed this morning. This was turning out to be the most embarrassing day of your life, and it wasn’t even 10am yet.  

Frank’s face had turned thoughtful. You were a little afraid to ask him what he was thinking about. 

“I have an idea,” he finally said, glancing between you and your mom, who was holding up a blue sweater and talking to an employee. 

“Okay?” You cocked your head to the side. 

“What if we dated?” Your eyes grew wide, “Just for the holidays, I mean. We show up together at events or parties and it keeps the questions at bay. Like a, um-” 

Frank searched for the right word, and you couldn’t help the word that came out of your mouth.  

“A holidate?”  

Frank snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Exactly. A holidate. It’ll get your family off your back for a little bit, and you won’t have to worry about being single. For the day, at least.”  

You didn’t say anything for a long time, trying to fully comprehend what he was offering. 

“What’s in it for you?”  

“Same as you.” He shrugged. “My family’s like yours.” 

“And it’s just for the holidays?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“What about the smaller holidays? Like 4th of July.” 

“I’m fine with whatever you want to do about those.” 

“What if one of us meets someone we like?” 

“Then our problems are solved, right?” 

You studied him for a moment, weighing the idea in your head. You stole a glance at your mother, who was now standing out of Frank’s direct eyeline and smiling at you and Frank. 

You turned back to Frank, holding out your hand. 

“Deal.” 

The smile he gave you as he shook your hand sent a shiver down your spine. 

 

Valentine's Day: 

“Frank, you are not getting my mother flowers. She’s never going to let you leave.”  

“I can’t show up to dinner to officially meet your family without bringing something. My mom raised me better than that.” 

You were currently standing in the flower section of Kroger, picking out flowers to get your parents for their anniversary. Every year, they hosted a family dinner on Valentine’s Day to celebrate their marriage and the family that came out of it. This was officially your first go at this holidate thing, and Frank kept insisting that he had to bring flowers. 

“If you absolutely have to get flowers, don’t get red roses. My dad called dibs on those 30 years ago.”  

Frank grinned at your compromise and picked up the bouquet of tulips he had been eyeing. You had to give it to your mom, Frank was handsome, but the holidate deal was strictly platonic, so you turned and headed for the checkout lane.  

When Frank caught up with you, he was holding not one, but two bouquets. The tulips he had picked out for your mom were bright yellow. The other bouquet had a dozen red roses in it, and it had been carefully wrapped in expensive-looking brown paper.  

“Who are those for?” You couldn’t help but ask.  

“Well, I can’t get my holidate’s mother flowers and not buy my holidate flowers too. That’s just unclassy.”  

You followed him in stunned silence. You hadn’t been expecting that.  

When you finally arrived at your parents' house, you were nervously applying and reapplying your lipstick in the passenger side mirror. You didn’t know how your family was going to react to Frank. Obviously, your mom would be pleased, but you didn’t want to sit under your sister’s scrutiny for too long. If anyone was going to figure out what you were doing, it would be her.  

“You’re nervous.” Frank pointed out, watching you from the driver’s seat. “Why?” 

“I’m not nervous.” You scoffed, ignoring how easily he just read your body language. 

“Yes, you are, but you shouldn’t be. I’m the perfect gentleman. Parents love me. You’ll see.” 

He smiled at you and jumped out of the car, running around to open your door for you.  

“See? Gentleman.” 

You led Frank around to the side door, hoping for a subtle entrance. This plan was almost immediately foiled when your mom busted through the door, Cheshire grin planted on her face. 

“Frank! It’s so good to see you!” She brushed past your open arms, pulling Frank into a hug.  

“Hello, ma’am. These are for you.” He held out the tulips, smiling. 

“Oh, you.” She muttered, taking the flowers from him. She rushed through the door, calling out to your dad.  

“I think it’s safe to say that I've won over your mom.” He chuckled. “You ready?” He held out his hand in question. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You sighed, intertwining your fingers in his. 

Dinner was as dramatic as you expected it to be. Your dad had kept up the “tough” act for a whole 30 seconds before Frank managed to win him over. All it took was a subtle nod to your dad’s “impeccable grill set-up" for your dad to shake Frank’s hand and ask him for help grilling the steaks. 

Speaking of grilling, as soon as Frank had exited the back door into your backyard, your sister immediately pulled you aside, demanding to know anything and everything about Frank. You kept your answers short but put enough detail into your responses that it seemed to win her over. Your brother had waved at Frank when you introduced him, and that was the end of that interaction. If only the rest of your family could be as relaxed as your brother was about the men in your life. 

When everyone sat down for dinner, your dad gave a long-winded speech about love and had everyone toast to your mom, who never failed to cry before dinner was served every year. Frank mixed in well with your family, holding conversations on his own with everyone at some point. 

The dramatics really amped up during dessert when your sister announced she was pregnant with her second baby. The room filled with gasps and excited squeals, mostly from your mom, and you watched as your mom wrapped her arms around your sister, teary eyed and smiling wide.  

When everyone had finished saying their congratulations and gathered in the living room for the annual “anniversary slideshow”, you settled against the back wall, content to observe the tradition from afar. Your mom snuck up beside you, pointed look on her face.  

“Don’t say it, Mom.” You mumbled, resting your head on the wall.  

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” She insisted, raising her eyebrows.  

“You were about to point out your lack of grandchildren from me, and I’m asking you to drop it, please.”  

“Oh, fine.” She joined your dad on the couch, snuggling into his side and pressing play.  

Your brother and his fiancé were also snuggling, whispering into each other’s ears and quietly giggling. It was sickeningly cute. Your brother-in-law was slowly rubbing your sister’s stomach, even though she wasn’t anywhere near showing yet. It was all annoyingly cute, and you sighed, wishing you could be anywhere else in the world. 

Frank sidled up beside you, bumping your shoulder with his. He was incredibly warm, and you couldn’t help but lean a little closer to him. You told yourself it was just because your parents kept the house cooler in the winter to save money.  

“What are you doing all the way over here?” He asked, lips so close to your ear that you couldn’t ignore the shiver racing down your spine.  

“I’m just standing.” You responded nonchalantly, pretending to be engrossed by the pictures on the screen.  

“Yes, but why are you so far away from everyone?”  

You didn’t respond, finally turning your head to look at him. His face was inches away from yours. You blinked, looking between his eyes. He was fully concentrated on you, and it was making you squirm. He was an expert at focusing his attention fully on the person he was talking to. This was something you had noticed about Frank before, but it never failed to affect you.  

“Do you want to go?” His voice was soft, full of concern.  

“Yes.” You breathed, trying not to look at his lips. 

“Okay. I’ll cause a distraction. You bolt out of the house, and I’ll meet you in the getaway car out front. But grab some of that pie on your way out.”  

He was smiling, obviously just saying something to make you laugh. You tried to stop the wide grin from forming on your lips, but when he was smiling at you like this, it was impossible not to match it. He was getting too good at reading you. 

“But seriously,” he started, still smiling, “I’ll say my friend accidentally cut his finger trying to seduce his Valentine’s date with a meal or something.” 

Frank did exactly that, and he handled it with such grace and confidence that even you caught yourself believing him for a moment. When he closed the car door behind you and began to walk around to the other side of the car, you studied him.  

There had to be something you were missing. This guy, who was seemingly full of green flags, was having the same relationship troubles as you? It didn’t make any sense. There had to be something seriously wrong with him. Otherwise, there’s no way in hell anyone would let him slip through their fingers.  

When he climbed in the car, he looked at you expectantly. “Where to, Miss Daisy?” 

“Want to get ice cream?” You asked, mouth watering at the thought. 

“What Miss Daisy wants, Miss Daisy gets.” He chuckled at his own joke, pulling away from the curb. The silence with Frank was comfortable, and you found yourself more relaxed than you had been in months.  

When you walked into the ice cream shop, you immediately regretted every decision you had ever made. You stopped mid-stride, and Frank very nearly ran into you trying to stop himself behind you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scoping out the store. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then again, to any normal person, it would seem like that.  

But you were focused on the couple sitting in the back of the parlor, sharing a bowl of ice cream. It was Ben, and he was spoon feeding ice cream to the girl he had cheated on you with. Frank narrowed his eyes at them, trying to put the pieces together.  

“I suddenly don’t have an appetite for ice cream,” you mumbled, turning back to walk out the door. Frank’s brow was furrowed, and the expression on his face read as pure confusion, but he followed you through the door without question. 

You had almost made it to Frank’s car when you heard your name being shouted behind you. Ben was slightly jogging to catch up with you, and you made a show of rolling your eyes.  

“Hey! Wait!” Ben called, waving his arm. 

Frank’s posture stiffened beside you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he lightly pulled your waist closer to his side. Another shiver slid down your spine. You were going to have to get rid of that side effect as soon as possible.  

“Hey, I just saw you leave the shop. I wanted to see how you were doing after, you know.” Ben was slightly panting. He eyed Frank’s hold on your waist, standing a little taller than before.  

“I’m fine, Ben. Thanks. Bye.” You responded, looking anywhere but his face. You were not going to cry in front of Frank, and you certainly wouldn’t be giving Ben the satisfaction of an emotional breakdown at his expense.  

“Who’s this?” he asked, finally acknowledging Frank.  

“Frank, this is my loser ex-boyfriend. Loser ex-boyfriend, this is Frank. Are we good? Can we go now?” You asked, losing your patience. 

Frank stiffened, a signal that told you he had caught on to the situation. His hand crept across your waist and settled on your stomach, pulling you fully against his front. His movement was slow, barely noticeable to anyone else, but the trail Frank’s hand left behind would be burned into your memory forever. 

Ben looked between your face and Frank’s, scoffing. 

“Oh, I see. He’s the rebound.” Ben nodded to himself. 

Anger coated your tongue. You opened your mouth, ready to scream, when Frank’s voice cut you off. 

“Buddy, why don’t you fuck off, okay? She’s clearly not interested in having this conversation with you.” 

“Okay, buddy.” Ben responded, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t think this is any of your business.” 

“You made it my business when you upset her.” Frank’s deep voice reverberated through your chest. “We’re going.” He opened the car door, guiding you into the seat with a gentle push from the hand on your waist.  

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You eagerly climbed in, squeezing the seatbelt as you buckled it. Frank joined you seconds later, starting the car and carefully pulling out of the spot. Your eyes didn’t leave your lap until the car was safely on the road again.  

“Are you okay? God, that guy’s such an asshole. Sorry about the ice cream.” Frank gripped the steering wheel with one hand, resting his other arm on the windowsill and running his hand through his hair. 

“I’m fine.” Your voice was meek compared to Frank’s deep one. 

“You’re not, but that’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset.”  

You stayed silent, counting the streetlights as you drove past them. Frank didn’t pry. He put the radio on a low volume and quietly hummed along to the Sum-41 song playing. After a while, he turned into a gas station parking lot, pulling into one of the spots in front of the store. You looked around, confused. 

“Stay here. I’ll be right back. Lock the door.” He moved to get out of the car, but stopped when you made a noise of discontent, raising your hands in the air in question. 

“Wait! What are you doing?” You asked, exasperated. 

“I promised you ice cream, didn’t I?” He smiled, climbing out of the car. Your fingers fell along the arm rest, pressing the lock button. You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face as you watched him walk away from the car. 

 

Easter: 

Easter was a holiday that you hadn’t celebrated until you were a few years into your adulthood. Your parents didn’t press religion onto you or your siblings when you were growing up, but your sister had married into a somewhat religious family, so the annual Easter egg hunt they hosted had become a regular part of your Easter plans. 

When you called him, Frank had insisted that his family could spend the day without him. You hadn’t spoken to him much since Valentine’s Day, but you smiled when he immediately said he’d be there, holidate ready.  

He showed up, sporting a button-down shirt and slacks. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he had let his hair grow out a little. You tried not to stare as he opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman.  

“Have you been okay?” he asked, lightly tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio. 

“Actually, yes.” For the first time in months, you didn’t have to lie when someone asked you that question. Ben was a memory you had all but forgotten about.  

“That’s great. I'm glad you called. My family was trying to force me into dressing up like the Easter Bunny for my nieces and nephews.” He shuddered at the thought. 

Your head whipped around. “You have siblings?” you asked, genuinely surprised. He had never mentioned them before.  

“I have a brother and a sister, like you. They both have a million kids. I love them, but they couldn’t pay me enough to dress up in a giant, fuzzy bunny costume.” 

You threw your head back against the headrest, laughing loudly.  

“You never told me that!” 

“You never asked.” He responded, raising an eyebrow at you and smiling. 

“Hmmm. Let’s change that.”  

You spent the drive asking him every question you could think of. His favorite color was purple, even though he didn’t own anything that even remotely resembled the color. He didn’t have a favorite tv-show because he didn’t ever turn the tv on in his apartment. He loves dogs, but never adopted any because he thinks they should have a big backyard to run around in. He has a perfect attendance record at work because he never gets sick.  

When you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you still had a million questions for him, but your mom’s waving hand at the front door forced you out of the car. Frank grabbed onto your hand as you walked up the driveway and squeezed it. You tried not to blush. Why did he have to be so God damned dreamy? 

He pulled his hand away to give your mom a hello hug. She winked at you over his shoulder, and your eyes stung at the thought of the holidate deal coming to an end. She was going to be heartbroken. She really liked Frank. You and Frank hadn’t discussed how long you’d be each other’s holidates, but you knew he would eventually meet someone else and have to put an end to your deal. 

“Frank, I’m so glad you’re here. Uncle Steve was supposed to be the bunny, but he fell off his motorcycle last night and can’t walk without crutches. What a shame. But we really need an Easter Bunny.” She shook her head sadly, clasping her hands together.  

The cackle that came out of you was obnoxious, but you didn’t care. This was the best thing that could’ve possibly happened. Frank looked back at you, eyebrows raised.  

“You didn’t mention that your family also did the ‘dress up like the Easter Bunny’ thing.” He muttered, expectant look in his eyes.  

“You never asked.” You responded, wiping the tears gathering under your eyes. Another fit of giggles had you gasping for air. You clutched your stomach, taking deep breaths, and then immediately busted out laughing again when your mom appeared with the bunny head in her hands. 

You spent the afternoon laughing every time Frank walked by you in the costume. He looked so defeated, but he was putting on a good show for the kids, who loved him. When it was time for dinner, Frank fell into his seat next to you. He looked exhausted, but the grin he sent you was to die for.  

“You could’ve told her no, you know?” You said, patting his hand. 

“I know, but it made you smile, so I didn’t want to.”  

Frank said this nonchalantly, but you felt his words in your gut. The chime of a knife on a wine glass stole your chance to respond. Frank lightly ran his fingers along your hand, and you spent the entire speech and prayer focused solely on the feeling of his skin against yours. If someone asked you about the speech, you’d be at a loss for words. You didn’t hear a word of it. 

After dinner, you had drunk so much wine that you excused yourself to the bathroom. Your sister busted through the door approximately 30 seconds after you had entered the bathroom, slamming it shut behind her. 

“Okay, it’s not like I’m in the middle of peeing or anything.”  

“Oh, shush. I need to talk to you.” Her hand subconsciously rested on her stomach. She was showing a little bit, and her lilac dress showed off her baby bump perfectly. 

“What is so important that you couldn’t wait for me to finish peeing?” 

She smirked, leaning against the door. “It looks like it’s going good with Frank.” 

“Oh my god. This could definitely wait until I was done.”  

“We’ve all noticed it. I mean, come on. The bunny suit? He did that for you, not the kids.” 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, trying your best to nod enthusiastically. 

Your sister’s face fell. “What? Is he not good in bed or something?”  

“What? No! I mean, I don’t know. We haven’t-” 

“Oh, is he one of those wait til marriage kind of people?” 

“No! Well, I don’t know.” You threw your hands up in exasperation. You couldn’t imagine Frank being bad in bed, but that was something you had been strictly not thinking about. 

“What are you hiding?” She asked, eyeing you. You should’ve known she would see through this eventually. You rested your elbows on your knees, dropping your face into your hands. 

“It’s not...real.” You finally mumbled. “We’re just faking it on the holidays for our families. A holidate, ya know?”  

“A holidate.” She repeated, voice full of confusion. 

“A holidate.” You sat back, looking up at her. 

“But he doesn’t look at you like it’s fake.” She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

“That’s the point. It’s an act. You can’t tell anyone, especially Mom.” You pleaded with her. 

“This could end very poorly.” She said after a pause, concern lacing her words.  

“I know.” You nodded slowly, then sent her a playful glare. “Can I wipe, now? In private?”  

Your sister left, quietly shutting the door behind her. You stood in the bathroom for an extra few minutes, contemplating the decisions that led you to this point. When you finally rejoined Frank at the table, he was engrossed in a conversation with your dad. He didn’t look at you, but he grabbed your hand, pulling it into his lap. Your sister sent you a pointed look, which you promptly ignored. The pattern Frank drew into your skin burned so hotly that it felt like a brand. 

 

4th of July: 

The 4th of July was always a huge affair for your family. Your parents rented a cabin on the lake and invited everyone and their grandmother to spend the weekend there, and this year, you were being upgraded to your own bedroom, courtesy of Frank’s presence. In the years you were with Ben, he had never joined you for the 4th of July celebration, so you had always been stuffed into a room with someone else. But not this year.  

When you called Frank, it was the first time you’d actually spoken in over a month. The few text check-ins barely counted as a conversation, and they were usually brief. You had nervously paced around the room as you listened to the ringing on the other line, hoping it’d go to voicemail. It was a big step, even if it was technically fake. Not only would Frank be spending the night with you, but he’d also be sharing a bed with you, which was a terrifying thought. 

Frank picked up, panting into the phone. His grunts were downright sinful, and you momentarily forgot what you were calling him about.  

“Am I interrupting something?” You asked, mind immediately jumping to the worst conclusion. 

“I’m at the gym, but I didn’t want to miss your call. What’s up, buttercup?”  

You explained the situation, pacing back and forth around your kitchen when you got to the ‘one bed’ part.  

“Of course, I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss it. Do you want me to stay somewhere else?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re walking a hole into your floor right now. We don’t have to share a bed if you don’t want to. I can stay at a hotel or something.”  

“No! I mean-” you paused, closing your eyes, “I just meant that if you would be uncomfortable, you don’t have to come. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. I don’t mind sharing a bed if you don’t”  

You bit your lip, waiting for his response.  

“Cool. I’ll drive. What time are we leaving?” 

And that was that. Frank picked you up in his car, so giddy about the trip that he was practically bouncing up and down. The drive there wasn’t too long, but you spent the time catching up with Frank. Besides the occasional text, you really didn’t talk to him often when it wasn’t a holiday. After the conversation with your sister on Easter, you had set boundaries with yourself. You only let yourself think about him some of the time, and you certainly didn’t reach out to him. It was better if you distanced yourself from him on the regular days of the year.  

Frank insisted on unloading the car himself and wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help. He even carried your purse in for you. Your mom hugged him so tightly you winced out of sympathy for the poor man. Frank was a big man, but your mom could summon the strength of three grizzly bears when she wanted to. 

Frank said his hellos, shaking your dad’s hand and asking your sister about her pregnancy. Being only 2 months away from her due date, she was fully showing now. When you finally made it to the room you were sharing with Frank, you were so nervous you started to gnaw on the inside of your cheek.  

The bed was big, but so was Frank. He’d take up at least two-thirds of the space. You didn’t let yourself think about tonight, or the rest of the weekend. That was a problem for future you. Your brother bolted past the doorway, stopping only to invite you both to swim in the lake before he took off again. He was only a couple years younger than you, but he had the energy of a 12-year-old boy.  

“Do you want to go?” Frank asked, flopping onto the bed. He propped his head on his hands, which were stretched behind him. His shirt had risen up, giving you a full view of his happy trail. Your mouth dried at the sight. 

“Oh, sure.” You finally responded, shaking the thoughts from your head. “Do you?”  

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me. Your mom’s not going to make me dress up like a giant firework, is she?”  

You stifled a laugh, reaching for your swimsuit. “I don’t think so, but you never know with her.” 

Frank closed his eyes, settling into the mattress.  

“You can change. I won’t peek. Holidate’s honor.”  

The idea of being bare in front of Frank was not something you had prepared yourself for, and you could feel yourself begin to sweat. You slowly closed the door, which increased the heat in the room to suffocating levels.  

You studied Frank, whose eyes remained closed. He looked peaceful in this position, unbothered by the trials and tribulations of life. You slowly unbuttoned your shorts, pushing them down your legs. Your gaze remained on Frank, blissfully unaware of what he was doing to you. Heat pounded between your thighs, and you couldn’t help the image that popped into your head of Frank’s head dipped between. You bit your lip, watching as Frank shifted his hips on the bed and cleared his throat.  

The sound of your brother’s footsteps stomping past the closed door startled you out of your thoughts. A cold wave washed over you, chilling you to your bones. You hurried to put the rest of your swimsuit on, almost falling over in the process.  

You stepped out of the room, taking a deep breath. This weekend was going to be rough, and you had only been there for 15 minutes. When Frank joined you outside, you had to look away in order not to groan. Frank was unreasonably fit, muscles bulging in places you didn’t even know muscles existed. You focused on rubbing sunscreen into your skin, looking everywhere but at Frank.  

He stopped behind you, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen off the table. You froze when you felt his hands gathering your hair, moving it in front of your shoulders. He squirted sunscreen on his hands and began lathering it across your back and shoulders. You watched the group of people gathered around the lake, taking turns swinging into the water off a rope. The only thing that stopped you from turning around and slamming your lips against Frank’s was the horrible awkwardness that would settle between you for the entire weekend if Frank rebuffed your advances.  

His hands worked their way down your back, stopping millimeters above the waistline of your bikini.  

“All done.” His voice was husky in your ear. You slowly turned around, looking up at Frank. He brought his hand up to your shoulder, rolling the strap of your bikini between his fingers.  

“Purple.” He observed. “I like this color.”  

He stepped around you, taking your hand in his and tugging your arm. You tried not to stare at his ass as he led you down to the lake.  

Later, after hours of swimming and eating the burgers your dad had grilled for everyone, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Even though the lake water had been freezing, and you had spent most of dinner leaning into Frank’s natural body heat, you had taken an ice cold shower. Frank was in the room, already showered and probably in bed. You prayed that he would be asleep when you finally got the courage to enter the room.  

You took a breath, stepping out of the bathroom and making your way down the hall. When you stepped into the dark room, Frank was lying flat on his back in bed, scrolling through his phone. 

You crawled into the bed, doing your best to avoid touching Frank. Frank was broad, though, and your shoulder ended up touching his no matter what position you laid in.  

“Jesus,” he mumbled, turning on his side and facing you, “you’re freezing.”  

You cleared your throat. “I’m fine.”  

He gave you a flat stare, pressing his shoulder into yours. You pushed back, settling against him. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own. Frank was warm, and you really were freezing after your cold shower, so you relaxed into the touch, shutting your eyes. The back of Frank’s hand brushed yours as you fell into a deep sleep next to him.  

The next evening, you watched as Frank and your dad set up the firework area that everyone would be gathering around soon. Your sister lounged in the chair next to you, fanning herself.  

“Why don’t you just date instead of faking it? You act like a couple already.”  

“Because that wasn’t the deal, and who says he even sees me like that?” 

“Do you see him like that?”  

 “I don’t know. No.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”  

“That suggestive sunscreen job I witnessed yesterday says differently.”  

You didn’t want to argue with her, so you remained quiet, watching Frank’s back muscles flex as he lifted a piece of wood and chunked it to the side. When he made his way back to you, he was coated in sweat, which somehow made him even better to look at. He smiled at you, stopping to press a kiss on the top of your head. Your sister shot you a look when he continued walking towards the cabin. 

When it was finally dark enough to shoot off fireworks, your dad counted down, setting off a huge firework when he got to zero. The night took a turn for the worse shortly after that.  

It had started with your brother jokingly shooting a firework near you that landed a little too close for comfort. Frank had a competitive side apparently, thus began an outright firework war that ended faster than it began. You ran for the cabin, stopping when you heard the unmistakable sound of Frank grunting in pain.  

He had fallen to the ground, clutching his hand to his chest. You turned on your heels, bolting to Frank and falling to your knees in front of him. His finger was missing, and you did your very best not to puke all over your severely injured holidate.  

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Frank!” You faintly heard the sound of someone calling an ambulance behind you. You clutched the sides of his face, trying to figure out what to do. Your brother was searching the ground around you, and you balked in horror when you realized he was looking for Frank’s finger.  

“Is it bad?” Frank asked, grunting when he tried to lift his hand. 

“Is it bad?” You repeated, incredulously, “Yes, it’s bad. Where the fuck is your finger, Frank?”  

He barked out a laugh, and then groaned at the movement.  

“You’re the only person who’d get mad at someone with a missing finger.”  

“This is totally karma getting us back for lying to my parents on Valentine’s Day!”  

The ambulance arrived shortly after that, and you jumped into the back with Frank before the paramedics could tell you any differently. You spent hours in the waiting room as Frank had his finger surgically attached, drinking shitty coffee and flipping through the months-old magazines on the table. When the doctor finally told you he was ready to be seen, you had to stop yourself from running down the hall towards him.  

He was in a recovery room, lying on the bed in a hospital gown.  

“How are you feeling?” You asked, plopping down on the chair next to the bed. The hand that had lost the finger was wrapped in pounds of gauze, propped up on a pillow.  

“Like shit.” He grumbled, taking your hand in his uninjured one. “I totally ruined your family’s holiday.” 

“Frank, my brother is the one that shot your finger off. You didn’t ruin anything. I’ve gotten about 75,000 texts asking for updates on you since we got here. They’re not worried about the holiday, they’re worried about you. ” 

“This is the worst holidate ever.” He moaned, exaggerating his eye roll.  

You giggled, resting your chin on your free hand.  

“At least you still have all your extremities.”  

He chuckled, looking at his injured hand. 

“Thanks for staying.” He squeezed your hand as he said it, looking over at you. 

“Holidates don’t leave holidates behind.”  

 

Halloween: 

Halloween was something you hadn’t officially celebrated in years, but your brother was finally getting hitched, and you were actually pretty excited about it. Frank was coming as your plus-one and holidate, even though technically the event wasn’t holiday related. It was the same weekend as Halloween, so Frank had insisted on joining you. He had even gone as far as pointing out that it would be strange for you to show up to the wedding alone, considering how long he’d been attending family events with you. 

Your mother had done all of the hotel booking, so you and Frank were sharing room again, but you weren’t as nervous this time around about that. The weeks after the finger incident had changed something between you and Frank. At first, you basically lived on his couch, waking him up throughout the night to give him the medicine his doctor had prescribed him. You had to help him button his shirts for work, a task you still thought about daily, and stocked his fridge with meals that he wouldn't have to fuss over with his injured hand.  

It was now a fairly regular occurrence to hear from Frank throughout the day. A random text every few hours, or a phone call during his lunch break was something you’d grown used to in your daily routine. You still didn’t know what you were doing. The idea of actually dating someone was terrifying, but you couldn’t decide if it was worse than the idea of not seeing Frank.  

Frank’s voice coaxed you out of your deep thoughts. 

“I can’t get this bowtie to sit right.” Frank called from the bathroom.  

You moved towards his voice, clutching the front of your dress.  

“Zip me, please.” You mumbled, turning your back to him. He obliged, running his cool knuckles up your spine as he zipped the dress up. You focused on the bowtie, undoing the ridiculous knot he had wound into it while trying to fix it.  

“You look great. Beautiful.” He sighed, looking you over. 

You smiled. “You’re only saying that because the dress I’m wearing is purple.” You didn’t mention that you had picked this dress out specifically because of the color. 

“I can like the color and also like you in the color. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”  

You retied the bowtie, patting his chest when you finished. “You look good, too.”  

“You’re making me blush.” He chuckled, leading you out the door.  

Your sister met you in the lobby, holding the newest addition to the family in her arms. She had gone into labor in the middle of September, bringing your nephew into the world a short 6 hours later. Frank’s first interaction with him had been so annoyingly adorable that your mother didn’t stop sending you meaningful looks for hours afterwards. 

The ceremony was short, but as weird as you expected it to be. Anything your brother was involved in guaranteed a strange experience, but Frank didn’t seem to mind. He spent the ceremony clutching your hand between his and toying with the fabric of your dress.  

The reception is when it got really interesting. You finally escaped the dance floor, where your dad was thoroughly drunk and had been whipping you around in circles for what felt like hours. You stepped off the raised floor, heading directly for Frank, who had been watching you dance with a bemused expression on his face. 

“That looked fun.” He observed, passing you the glass of water on the table.  

You gulped it down, all too aware of Frank’s heated gaze. You could always tell when he was looking at you. A fiery shock would slide down your spine and settle deep in your bones when his eyes were on you. You never got used to it, but tonight you decided to welcome the feeling.  

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe you were just tired of sitting on the relationship fence with Frank, but you leaned over him, giving him an unrestricted view down your dress as you set the empty glass down on the table. He remained unfazed, glancing over your shoulder at the dance floor. 

You tried not to look disappointed. You had spent so much time with him that maybe you had created a false narrative about him. It had been 10 months since you’d reconnected, and he’d only ever been affectionate with you when you were in front of your family. Which, you reminded yourself, was the deal.  

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts from your head. You held out your hand in question, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Dance with me.”  

A goofy smile spread across his face. “It'd be an honor, ma’am.”  

You led him across the dance floor, swaying to the music that had changed from fast paced to slow and romantic. Your steps were clumsy and awkward, but that didn’t deter Frank.  

“Let me lead.” He mumbled, looking down at your feet.  

“I can’t not lead. I always lead.” You respond, trying and failing to relinquish your control. 

“Let me lead.” He repeated, squeezing your waist. “Relax.”  

You took a deep breath, following his steps as best you could. It was rather nice, dancing with a man that you could trust to guide you around the dance floor. With Ben, you’d always had to lead. He was a terrible dancer. Frank, though, was a natural.  

He effortlessly led you around the floor, pulling you closer every time he spun you around. Your chest was fully pressed against his, and he smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. You couldn’t hide the ridiculous smile that mirrored his. On any other occasion, you would pull away and stick to the holidate rules, but tonight didn’t feel like a holidate date, so you stayed exactly where you were, cheesing so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt.  

His eyes darted down to your lips, and then quickly returned to your eyes. You couldn’t help it. You leaned in, just barely grazing his lips with your own. It didn’t qualify as a kiss. It barely qualified as anything, but the expression on Frank’s face had you reeling back. You couldn’t tell if he was upset, confused, or mad, but you opened your mouth to apologize anyways. 

“I’m-” 

The feedback from the microphone cut you off. Frank’s grip on your waist tightened as you whirled around, looking toward the stage. It was time for the ‘father of the bride’ speech, and you couldn’t believe how unlucky the timing was.  

You didn’t look at Frank as you made your way back to your family’s table. Instead, you grabbed your nephew out of your sister’s hands, rocking him in your arms as the speech began. You didn’t need to look up to know Frank was staring at you. He hadn’t stopped since you’d barely kissed him moments before. Heat traveled up your neck and across your cheeks. You felt like crying, but you didn’t know why. Did you just ruin possibly the best friendship you’d ever had by misreading the situation? 

The speech finished, and you went to hand your nephew back to your sister, when the worst possible thing that could’ve happened, happened. Your nephew, cute and as bubbly as could be, decided he wanted to projectile vomit all over your chest. You didn’t move for several moments, trying to comprehend everything that led to this moment. 

Your sister wouldn’t stop apologizing as she took the baby from you. The anxious ringing in your ears was back, and you couldn’t breathe. Tonight was going so poorly, and you were so overwhelmed with Frank that frustrated and embarrassed tears began pouring down your cheeks. You could feel Frank’s hand wrap around your wrist as you turned towards the exit, but you shrugged him off, moving out of the reception hall and towards the elevators in the lobby of the hotel. 

You knew you’d have to face him eventually, but all you could think about was getting out of there, away from his overpowering presence. When you finally got to your room, you couldn’t stop the overflow of tears. Your dress was ruined, probably cursed to smell like baby puke forever, and your makeup was so smeared it would have to be completely redone if you wanted to return to the reception. 

You decided you had had enough of dancing. You stripped your dress off, stepping into the boiling hot shower. You wiped your face, staining the white washcloth black. Your fists squeezed into tight balls as the bathroom door opened and shut.  

“Are you okay?” 

Frank’s voice was soft, and tears welled up in your eyes again at the sound of it. He was always so nice.  

“Why do I feel like you’re always asking me that?” You finally responded, resting your head against the cool tile of the shower wall.  

“You’ve had an off year. We all have ‘em. Are you okay, though?”  

The sympathy in his voice caused even more tears to fall down your face. You couldn’t even figure out why you were crying anymore.  

“I’m...I don’t know.” You mumbled, wiping your cheeks. “I don’t know. Is that okay?”  

“Of course. But you’re allowed to not be okay. I’m here for you either way.”  

You groaned, closing your eyes. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween.” You mumbled. 

You turned the shower off, drying yourself off with the towel hanging on the wall of the shower opposite the shower head. You opened the curtain, clutching the towel to your chest. Frank was sitting on the toilet lid, leaning against the back of the toilet, looking directly at you. His gaze was hard to read.  

“We don’t have to go back, do we?” You asked, stepping out of the shower. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He stood, moving to lean against the counter next to you.  

You gazed at your reflection. A few tear paths, stained with mascara, were scattered across your cheeks. You rubbed them with the palm of your hand, trying to wipe away any of the remnants of tonight. 

“Beautiful.” Frank mumbled, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“What?” You asked, meeting his gaze. 

“You’re beautiful, even when your makeup is all over the place.” 

“Oh.” You breathed, turning away from the mirror to face him. 

He took a step forward, towering over you. His hand cupped your cheek, and he swiftly leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. The spark was electric, snapping the restraint in both of you. You pressed against him, opening your mouth for him to explore. He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist.  

You didn’t let yourself think of the consequences as you dropped your towel, fully bare before him. He pulled away, looking your body up and down, before reconnecting his mouth with yours. You pulled on his bowtie, undoing the knot you had tied so many hours earlier. The buttons on his shirt slid apart easily, and suddenly Frank was tugging his shirt off, dropping it to the floor behind him. He cupped the back of your knees, hoisting you into the air as you gripped his back and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

He carried you into the bedroom, grunting as he fell on top of you on the soft mattress. His tongue made its way down your neck and onto your chest. He licked a path down your sternum and onto your stomach, planting kisses along the way. His path downward stopped suddenly as he lightly kissed and sucked on your hip, leaving what was sure to be a mark the next day.  

He lifted your legs, resting them on his shoulders. He looked up, lustful and heated in his gaze.  

“Can I?” He asked, squeezing your thighs. 

“Oh, please.” You responded, spreading your legs wider for him. 

He dove in, tongue lapping at your cunt. The moan you let out would surely wake whatever unlucky neighbors you had on either side of your room. You arched your back, giving him more access. His tongue made slow circles up your slit, settling just below your clit. He left kitten licks all around it, grinning every time you moaned. You scoffed when you realized what he was doing. He was teasing you. 

You let out a frustrated whine, arching your back further. 

“You need somethin’, darlin’?” He asked, punch drunk on your pussy.  

“I need you, Frank.” You whined, looking down at him. 

His gaze darkened, and you were almost afraid of what would come next. He finally, finally, circled your clit with his tongue. You saw stars, letting out the most uncouth moan you’d ever heard yourself make. He flattened his tongue, licking from your clit to your cunt and back again. Your legs began to shake, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. 

He drew figure eights with his tongue, sucking and licking you until you were so close you thought you might explode. He ate pussy like a man starved, and when your orgasm finally crashed over you, white-hot and all encompassing, you thought you might never reach that level of euphoria again. 

He rested his head on your thigh, grinning as he watched you come down from what was probably the best orgasm you’d ever have in your lifetime. Your heart was racing, and you let out several unsteady breaths. Your entire body was numb, and you couldn’t feel anything but bliss inside of you. Frank had wrecked you with his tongue, and all you could think about was doing it again.  

He crawled up your body, hovering over you. He ran his hands through your hair a few times before settling his gaze on yours.  

“Let's do that again.” You sighed, skin buzzing where he touched you. 

He chuckled, pressing a kiss onto the bridge of your nose. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. He was still wearing his dress pants, and you wiggled with discontent.  

“You’re too clothed, sir.” You said, grinning. 

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting back on his heels. 

“Yes.” You replied, watching as he slowly removed his belt. The sight of him kneeling over you, removing his clothes, was drool worthy. You had to remind yourself to close your mouth as he got off the bed and dropped his pants to the floor.  

The front of his briefs were stained with wetness, precum soaking through the fabric. Your mouth watered and you swallowed thickly as he stroked his hard cock, stepping out of his pants and underwear. Frank naked was a sight to behold. His cock was veiny and long, and your legs widened out of sheer shock.  

He smirked, pumping his cock again. You bit your lip to hide the moan crawling up your throat. He leaned over, pulling a condom out of his wallet. 

“Do you always keep condoms in your wallet when you’re a plus one to a wedding?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Only when my dates are incredibly sexy and wear my favorite color.”  

“Oh, so this happens often?” You tried to sound seductive instead of insecure, which is the feeling that began bubbling in your chest. 

“No. Not until tonight.” He shook his head, eyes following the curve of your hips and settling between your thighs. He slid the condom on and crawled over you again. 

Relief washed over you, and you spread your legs wider, inviting him to use you as he pleased. Your groans filled the room as he pushed into you, inch by inch until he was fully inside of you. It stung a little, considering how long it had been since you’d had sex with anyone, but he didn’t move, cradling your face and waiting for you to give him a signal that he could positively fuck you into the mattress.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his mouth to yours. His thrusts started slow, but the heat in your kiss sent another shock to both of your systems, and soon he was pounding into you. Skin met skin in a sinful, symphonic rhythm that overtook the room. He grunted into your ear when you lifted your hips, allowing him to push deeper into you.  

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him with every deep thrust. Your heart pounded as he thrusted into you, over and over, pushing you closer to the edge. Your moans got louder, and that seemed to motivate him into fucking you harder into the mattress underneath you. He dipped his head into your neck, sucking the sensitive skin and leaving small marks in his wake. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears of pleasure rolling down the sides of your face. You’d never been fucked this good before, and the only logical reaction your body could think of was to cry. 

He kissed the tears, smiling as you clenched around him. He reached down, settling his finger on your sensitive clit. It took about 3 seconds before your body couldn’t handle the overwhelming pleasure washing over you. You moaned loudly, orgasm shattering through you. He groaned, squeezing you tighter against him. You both met your highs, hearts pounding wildly in your chests as you came.  

His thrusts slowed, until he finally stopped, breathing hard over you. Your body was so blissed out that it took you several minutes before you could open your eyes. Frank kissed your nose again, pulling out of you. You both groaned with oversensitivity. 

He disposed of the condom, falling onto the bed next to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, still breathing heavier than normal.  

You could barely hear him. The pounding in your chest had moved to your ears.  

“Mhmm.” You sighed, snuggling into the comforter under your head. “You?” 

“I’m in awe of you. I always am.”  

He grasped your hand, pushing the covers back and helping you crawl under them. He settled next to you in the bed, running his fingers through your hair. Your heavy eyelids tracked the movements, watching him watch you. The expression on his face was unreadable, but sleep was fast approaching, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to question it. You could barely keep your eyes open, the last thing you remember being the soft press of Frank’s lips on your forehead. 

// 

A pounding at the door woke you from your deep slumber. The hotel room was filled with daylight, and you shielded your eyes as you tried to find your bearings. Frank was next to you, lying on his stomach and hugging the pillow under his head.  

Another knock at the door had you jumping to your feet, grabbing an extra blanket and wrapping it around yourself as you made your way to the door. You opened it to your very concerned-looking sister.  

“You’re alive.” She observed, glancing over your blanket wrapped body, “And naked.”  

“Yes, thank you. Is that all?” You gritted your teeth, unintentionally snarling. 

She looked over your shoulder at Frank’s sleeping form and back at you. 

“Didn’t you agree with me that this would be a bad idea?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes.” 

“And you did it anyways?”  

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes, itching to slam the door in her face and crawl back into bed with Frank.  

“You’re going to get hurt. Or hurt him. Or both.” She stated, matter-of-factly.  

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.” You admitted, leaning your head against the doorframe. 

Frank shifted behind you, and you looked at your sister incredulously. “Are we done?”  

“Check out is in an hour. That’s all I wanted to come tell you.” She said, floating down the hallway towards her room. You closed the door, rolling your eyes again.  

You turned, intent on forgetting the entire interaction, when you noticed Frank sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hey.” You said softly, moving towards him.  

“Hey.” His response was blunt, voice hard and cold. He stood, sliding past you. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rifled through his bag, quickly getting dressed. You sat on the bed, watching him move around the room and gather his stuff.  

You didn’t know what to say, or why it had gotten so awkward all of the sudden. You chewed your lip nervously. He finally looked over at you, resting his hands on his hips.  

“Can you check us out on your own?” He asked, seemingly annoyed.  

Your brow furrowed. “Um,” You started, trying to figure out where his coldness was coming from, “Yeah, I can do it.”  

“Okay.” He nodded, lifting his bag. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then?” His voice had softened a little bit, but the expression on his face was still cold.  

“Yeah.” You responded, not knowing what else to say. He walked out of the hotel room, not sparing a glance behind him. You watched as the door clicked shut, and you took a deep shuttering breath. Tears prickled behind your eyes, and you didn’t know what else to do besides packing your stuff. When you got to the lobby 20 minutes later, Frank was nowhere to be found.  

 

Thanksgiving: 

This was probably the most nervous you’d ever been to see Frank, even more than Valentine’s Day when you’d officially started being holidates. You had barely spoken to him since Halloween, which bothered you more than you thought it would. You’d grown so used to his daily texts and phone calls that the radio silence was increasingly frustrating. When you’d texted him to ask if he was still coming to your parents' house for Thanksgiving, he’d sent a simple ‘yes’ 12 hours later.  

You were perplexed by Frank’s behavior, but you chalked it up to overthinking your night with him. You’d never agreed to anything more than holidates with him, and you couldn’t just assume that Frank would be different with you after having sex with you. You had simply misread the signals he’d been sending you, and that was your fault.  

Your mother hadn’t stopped audibly sighing since you’d shown up on the front porch alone. You hadn’t talked to Frank about riding together, so you’d texted him that you were driving yourself. He hadn’t responded, and it was now 15 minutes past the time he was supposed to be here. 

“Are you sure he’s coming, honey?” Your mom asked, fiddling with the oven mitts on the counter.  

“He said he’d be here.” You muttered, trying not to look at the clock again.  

Your phone buzzed, and you read a text from Frank: ‘I’m outside.’ 

You walked out to the front porch, where you met Frank, who was holding two bouquets of flowers in his hands.  

“More flowers?” You asked, looking at the beautiful array of orange, yellow, and red flowers he had picked out.  

“Of course. You know I never show up empty handed.” 

“I’m surprised you showed up at all.” You couldn’t keep the bite out of your tone as you said what you’d been worrying about since Halloween.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank didn’t raise his voice, and for that you were glad, but the tone was definitely sharper than you were used to.  

“I just meant that you haven’t been very communicative lately. If you met someone else, that’s fine, but I need to know that stuff so I can tell my family we broke up.” You crossed your arms and shuffled your feet. 

“Is that what you want?” He asked, eyeing you. 

“What?” 

“To break up.”  

“We’re not together, Frank. It’s not real.”  

He inhaled sharply, nodding.  

“Okay.” He said finally, handing you both bouquets. He turned, stalking back towards his car.  

“Where are you going?” The tremble in your voice was entirely too noticeable, and you kicked yourself for being so emotional over this non-relationship. 

“Home. We're not fake-together anymore. Remember? Tell your mom sorry for the inconvenience.” 

He climbed into his car and pulled away from the curb at an alarming pace. You stood there, dumbfounded, watching his car until you couldn’t see it anymore. The tears that you’d spent the last few weeks holding in finally made an appearance, and sobs began to overwhelm your body.  

You had totally fucked everything up, and now you had to go inside and tell your family that you and Frank had broken up. The thought of it made you cry even harder.  

The door opened behind you, and you felt the soft embrace of your sister around you.  

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She mumbled into your back, squeezing you into a hug. 

“I don’t know what happened.” You said, clutching the flowers to your chest.  

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.”  

She held you for longer than you care to admit before you finally went inside to deliver the news. 

 

Christmas: 

You layed on your parents’ couch, watching as your mom slowly decorated the Christmas tree in the living room. You usually helped her, but you’d been a wreck since a few weeks ago at Thanksgiving, and your mom hadn’t asked for your help, just your company. 

The tree came together perfectly – it always did when your mother was involved – and you tried not to think about Frank, or the fact that you hadn’t been able to sleep or eat since you’d seen him last.  

When your mom sat on the couch next to you, she sighed, which was always a sign that she had something important to discuss. You tried not to outwardly groan.  

“Honey,” she started, taking your hand in hers, “I know you miss Frank, but you can’t let this ruin your happiness. He is very handsome and nice, and I don’t know what happened between you two, but I need you to remember that you deserve a kind and forgiving love like the rest of us. If he can’t offer that, he’s not worth your time.” 

The overwhelming urge to come clean to your mom about the entire thing ate at you as you listened to her. You responded before you could lose the nerve. 

“Mom, I made a mistake.” 

She nodded, leaning forward to listen to you.  

“Frank wasn’t really my boyfriend. We were faking it, so that you and dad would stop worrying about me. Except, I think I really fell for him, and then everything went to shit, and I think I accidentally fell in love with him, and I don’t know what to do.”  

Your voice cracked, and another wave of tears fell down your face. The only thing you could manage to do lately was cry, and it was beginning to drain you of your will to function.  

“Oh, honey.” She chuckled, squeezing your hand against her chest. “We don’t care if you have a boyfriend or not. We just want you to be happy, sweetie. And I’m sorry if it came across like we were trying to marry you off. We just wanted you to find someone who could make you as happy as we make each other.” 

She pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back in a soothing pattern as you cried into her chest. 

“You know, we’ve never seen you as happy as you were with Frank.” She murmured. 

“It wasn’t real, Mom.” You muttered, shaking your head.  

“You can’t fake that. He looked at you like you hung the moon. And you looked at him the same way. Even if it started as something fake, that’s not something you can fake for long.”  

You stayed quiet, mulling over her words.  

“You should call him.” She suggested, shrugging her shoulders. 

“I can’t call him. We fake broke-up.”  

“You can do anything you set your mind to.” She stated, raising her chin. “I didn’t raise you to give up so easily.” She flicked your nose, smiling. “Do you want some hot chocolate? I’ll make it the way you like.”  

You sent her a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, thanks.”  

After she made it to the kitchen, you pulled out your phone. You weren’t going to call him, you weren’t insane, but you could text him. 

You asked him if you could talk and watched as the bubbles next to his name appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared on the screen. Your phone buzzed, and an uneasy feeling settled in your gut.  

‘Yes. Can you meet me at the Christmas tree farm off of Jones?’ 

You jumped up, pulling on your boots and yelling at your mom not to make the hot chocolate.  

“Where are you going?” She exclaimed, briskly walking into the living room. You were already a foot out the door. 

“Frank!” You yelled behind you, running to your car.  

The drive was frustratingly long, and you didn’t remember there being so many stoplights in town, and of course you hit every red light. 

When you pulled into the lot, you spotted Frank’s tall frame looking over a sad-looking tree. You got out, slowly making your way towards him. When you finally stopped next to him, you were convinced you might bite a hole through your cheek.  

“This looks like Charlie Brown’s tree.” You stated. 

“There aren’t any good ones left. I waited too long to get a tree.” He responded, shuffling his feet. You still hadn’t looked at each other. 

“Why’d you wait so long?” You asked, stalling. 

“I wanted to get one with you.”  

You looked at him, eyebrows raised.  

“With me?”  

He nodded, finally meeting your gaze. You didn’t know what else to do, so you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His arms tightly surrounded you, breathing you in for the first time in weeks.  

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing you for emphasis. 

“I missed you, too.” You murmured. 

When you pulled away, tears threatened to spill on your cheeks for what felt like the millionth time in the last month.  

“What happened?” You asked, confused at his behavior the last two times you’d seen him.  

“You told your sister sleeping with me was a bad idea, and I know I wasn’t supposed to hear it, but I took it as you didn’t want to be with me, and I freaked out. I thought we would be together after Halloween. Like seriously together, and then when you said that, I thought maybe I had been misreading everything since I met you. And then I realized what a dumbass I am, because the sad look on your face when I left on Thanksgiving told me that you actually did care about me. And then I didn’t know what to say to you, so I didn’t say anything. But what I should’ve said was ‘I’ve been in love with you since Easter, and I want to be your holidate for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.’” He finished by throwing his hands up in the air.  

You smiled, eyes glistening. “Remember when I was the one who rambled when I was nervous?” You asked, giggling. 

He threw his head back and let out a loud laugh.  

“I do remember that, yes.”  

“Would it help if I said I came here to tell you that I fell in love with you a long time ago? And that I’m an idiot for ignoring it for so long? And that I love you so much that these last few weeks have been absolute hell for me?” 

He grinned, cupping your cheeks. “Yes, that does help a little bit.” 

“Are you sure?” You asked, leaning into his hold. “I could grovel more if you need me to. I came ready for anything.”  

“I’m sure, sweetheart.” He softly pressed his lips against yours, and you physically felt all of the pain of the last few weeks leave your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.  

When you finally broke away, you were breathless and on cloud nine. You nodded towards the tree he had been looking at.  

“I like this one. Wanna get it?” You asked.  

He chuckled and nodded. “What Miss Daisy wants, Miss Daisy gets.”  

You giggled, pulling him into another kiss.  

If you’d told yourself a year ago that you’d be here, kissing Frank Castle in the middle of a Christmas tree lot, you would laugh at yourself. Frank wasn’t what you were expecting, but you had learned over the last year that the best things in life usually come when you least expect them to, and that when you have something good, you shouldn’t let go of it. You weren’t planning on letting Frank go anytime soon, or ever if you could help it, and the way Frank refused to drop your hand, even when you tried to get into your own car to drive to his house, told you he wouldn’t be letting go of you either.  

End Note: I really hope you enjoyed this! If you want to see this in a series with other Marvel characters, let me know! Also, can we please figure out how to get Jon into a romcom. I need that in my life IMMEDIATELY.

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen

[moonlight-sonata99]

My headcanons of The Bad Batch falling in love with a jedi

SO... i wrote a thing, I want to get better at writing so i'm hoping to write more of these!!please note that i've written before when i was 12- im 18 now XD so i hope to get better!!

For now, Please enjoy my headcanons for The Bad Batch!!!

My headcanons The Bad batch falling in love with a jedi reader

Sidenote

Takes place after order 66,Reader was a Jedi knight who was once mace windu’s padawan. And reader is based off a oc of a another fanfic in the works!

Hunter

 Loml💖💖💖

Hmmm hunter I imagine a very VERY slow burn for him. Not to say that the rest of batch would be slow but I feel hunter would take extremely long at realizing his feelings

The man literally was a soldier then a dad-

So imagine his feelings when he and the reader actually start getting close. His heart would go doki doki and he would just be like.. wtf?

And obviously omega has to like you,how would she not like you?

Hunter will fall even harder when he sees the reader having a genuine interaction with omega.

Even though they're gone I still wanna add them so…

Cut lawquane and Suu already know what's up. Hunter can't hide it from them.

So does Rex, I'd like to think that Rex would be happy seeing his comrade falling in love after such events happened. 

Hunter tried to ignore these feelings but..it doesn't work. They just grew. 

As time passes he stars accepting that he MAY like(love) you 

And recently with his heightened senses he has been feeling eyes on him…

Overall very confused at first and takes the time to think about his feelings.

Echo

Like hunter he would be slow but not that slow, considering reader is a Jedi and went through order 66 they would have trauma. 

Enter trauma buddies

I vision the reader befriending echo first. Due to the fact that echo knows how scared you might be of clones at the moment. 

Despite being a bit grumpy echo is very sweet. He's very considerate of your needs. And with time,He knows what triggers you. He also weirdly helps you to open up more but you remain very quiet. 

Friends to lovers trope ftw- 

It would begin when the batch and reader are on a mission for Sid when things go wrong, as usual. And reader gets lightly hurt and echo's freaking out 

Then he hears a laugh 

"Won't you calm down? I just sprained my foot. I can heal it" you chuckle with a gentle smile 

And echo's face just goes red

Also to note, this man will ALWAYS be at your side. He's a puppy and it's adorable.

Also staying up late and planning for future missions are yours and echo's thing don't @ me. 

Tech

ayo this GIF

OOHH  I just love this man's to he reminds me of myself knowing a lot of useless info-

 I think tech isn't very shy? Maybe to an extent!but i think he wouldn't really show much as the others.

 in the beginning you and tech wouldn't be very close,but one day you ask him what he's working on  out of boredom and he goes on to tell you the whole declaration of independence-

he's used to people zoning out while he's explaining (cough) wrecker (cough)

but no, to his surprise you're still actually interested!!

and you listened.

after this tech somewhat limits himself to talking to much but he always ends up getting lost in his words. Especially if what peaked his interest is in depth. But you never seem to mind.

Like echo he would be next to you always. His go to if you will when he needs help

And get ready from a lot of questions about jedis and the order i feel like he would be very curious about that topic.once you get comfortable talking about it of course.

a couple of months  with being with the batch you go on a separate mission on a lead that your old master might be alive.

after you first told the batch of this tech was strangely quiet for the rest of your time there…

Wrecker

•Ngl I haven't really thought about this one, But I'll try my best!!!

•wrecker is a very fun loving man, and that's very admirable. 

• I imagine wrecker would be the one to get readers out of their shell more faster than the other guys. 

•What do you expect? He's so lovable. 

•but this of course didn't come with its own trial and errors…

•in the early stages there were sometimes where he would try to help you out, however this meant grabbing you and throwing you up a high wall when you could've forced jumped-

•as you can imagine reader was caught of guard °_°

•But all was forgiven when the wrecker sought you out privately and awkwardly apologized.

 •for falling in love. The feeling would come to him awkwardly and he somewhat embraces that! 

 •this would include giving you random trinkets that remind you of him

•inviting you out to his tradition with omega after missions

•being protective during missions

•compliments 

•being very obvious.

•I mean…More obvious than hunter and echo combined.

Crosshair

Damn that gif STGG

•whoever told you this mf would be sweet to you if he ever did like you-

•idk what to tell you💀💀

•you know that thing children do when they have a crush on another kid and there just mean to them?

•that's crosshair. 

•I knowW this man would be anything but nice to you.

•and that because he's most likely not used to liking someone.

•that being said, I read somewhere that crosshair would make you chase after him. I find that true imo, idk it just makes sense to me he would do that-

•BUT I do also think he would be the one who lowkey flirts with you the most but he would be very VERY subtle,And only do it when he gets comfortable with you. Examples being when you and him would be bickering and he would say something that would make you stay quiet and he uses that God daMn nice voice of his-  or with subtle touches.

• I do like to think that as time passes by he gets a bit more bolder and somewhat overprotective-

•also the reader actually taking the time to know crosshair would be very appealing to him I think, I just feel crosshair needs someone to talk to in Canon, just don't let him know you're a Jedi🗿

Uhh idk how to end these,..but i do really hope to write more!! as for request im not sure about that just yet!!anyways if you read this far thank you!! please be kind as this is my first time writing this kind of stuff;; okay enjoy TBB and stay safe!!!!

[wardenparker]

CONGRATS ON 2.5K BABE YOU DESERVE EVERY ONE.

May I request a confused Frankie, with the prompt "I have no idea what you just said to me"? Because it feels like it would be funny. Love you, babe!!!!

Santiago Garcia and Frankie Morales 708 words. I got a little carried away with this one. "I have no idea what you just said to me." Discussions of sex, so this goes under the cut.

“You’re kidding though, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” He’s rolling with laughter beside you in the big bed of the rental cabin’s master bedroom, cackling with glee as you groan in embarrassment. There is nothing in the world that could possibly delight him more than hearing that confession from you, and the fact that you’re pouting about it makes it even better.

“Don’t be mean,” you whine, shoving him away with one hand despite the fact that the lame attempt at personal defense doesn’t even break the hold he has on you. Ten minutes ago he had scooped you up in your arms and you know better than to think he’s going to let you go anytime soon. Which leads to you reaching above your head and bringing down one of the bed pillows to smash him in the face with as retaliation. “You can’t just ask me shit like that.”

“I didn’t think you would have an answer so quickly!” If he were standing up it would be doubling over with laughter, but as it is, he just tugs you tighter into his arms and dissolves into giggles. “I just thought I’d ask you a dumbass question. I didn’t think you’d have such a knee-jerk response to it.”

“Yeah…well…you were wrong.” Sputtering out slightly, you aim an even fiercer pout at him and add a frown to exaggerate the expression. “You have really hot friends, babe. I’m only human.”

Santiago giggles again, his fingertips digging into your sides as he pulls you to his chest and bites his tongue for a second before clicking it at you like you’ve been naughty. And maybe you have, who knows. “Yeah,” he nudges the tip of your nose with his own. “But I wasn’t expecting you to say you wanted all of them in this bed.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t want them here without you, too,” you offer, knowing it’s a weak defense to what you had blurted out. You just hadn’t expected your boyfriend of six months to ask if you had ever thought about being shared with any of his buddies. Throwing out the occasional hypothetical to each other made things interesting. More lively. More adventurous. Apparently, this time had been brutally honest as much as anything else.

“Of course I would be there.” Santi sticks his head out and places a kiss on the line of your jaw, right by your ear where the skin is most sensitive, making you shiver. “That’s why I asked about sharing. They don’t get to have you all to themselves.”

“What the hell is going on in here?” The door to the largest bedroom was flung open already when Frankie made his way upstairs – the second car to arrive to the cabin for this week away that Pope had orchestrated. He frowns slightly when he sees the two of you giggling in bed together, having heard shrieking just a second ago. Asshole Pope must have tickled you or something. You hate that and he thinks it’s funny. “Are you killing her or something?”

“I’m gentle and loving, feo.” Santi is still laughing when he waves Frankie into the room. “But I’m also having a fucking field day, because my bella preciosa over here just admitted to wanting the whole team to fuck her.”

Frankie stands just inside the doorway, arms slack at his side, and stares. You are covering your face in embarrassment but still managing to peak out at him between two fingers, and Pope is eagerly awaiting a reaction from his best friend, giggling slightly when he only gets that dumbfounded expression for far too long. “I have no idea what you said to me,” Frankie mutters when reality punches him in the gut again and he realizes he’s been staring. “I think I passed out for a second.”

“Estupido.” Santi’s laughter subsides, and a smirk curls his lips oh-so-enticingly. “I said my princesa wants to be gangbanged. You in?”

It takes another few seconds, but Frankie swallows, looking between the two of you with awe and then eagerness. “I think this is the best fucking vacation you ever planned,” he concedes, wolfish grin taking over his features. Oh yeah. He’s definitely in.

It's a Follower Celebration Microfic Extravaganza!

[canonicallyobserving911]

Good Cop Parent vs. Bad Cop Parent

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Fanfic Available in the "Good Cop Parent vs. Bad Cop Parent"

Part 10 is now available on AO3: "Good Cop Parent vs. Bad Cop Parent" - Chris asks his dads to sign his permission slip for a school trip but Buck, the good cop parent, signs it while Eddie, the bad cop parent, debates whether he should be allowed to go. Is Eddie’s hesitancy about the trip warranted or is it baseless?

"Good Cop Parent vs. Bad Cop Parent"

11.7K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

_________

Here's a snippet from a conversation Buck overhears between Eddie and Chris.

_________

As soon as Buck opens the door, at the sound of his husband’s and son’s voices, he tilts his head to the side because he can hear them and it sounds like they’re having a heated discussion about something. Even though they’re not yelling, it’s the tone in the words being spoken that causes him to pause and listen.

“I’m not going to sign the permission slip yet because I’m still debating if we should let you go to San Francisco.”

He sighs, then replies, “But dad… Buck already signed it and we talked about it during the summer, so I don’t understand”.

“You’re right we did but… that was months ago and I’m not sure if you going that far away from home is a good idea.”

Buck’s sure they haven’t realized he’s at home yet, so he quietly sits his bag in their laundry/mudroom, then he closes the door, walks through the hallway that leads to the kitchen and that’s where he sees his husband in his uniform standing on one side of their round wooden kitchen table and Chris sitting on the other side with a frustrated look on his face.

He wasn’t expecting to walk in and find them in a heated discussion and since Eddie mentioned the permission slip, he’s positive they’re talking about the trip to San Francisco that’s scheduled for early next month.

“Dad?!” Chris shakes his head in disbelief then continues. “Did something happen to make you change your mind?”

“No. I’ve just been thinking about whether it’s a good idea for you to go on an overnight school trip that lasts for two nights.”

“Huh? Dad? I mean we’ve talked about this and I need to go. I’m one of the captains on the team and if I don’t go then…” He trails off because he’s getting upset and he doesn’t want to be disrespectful.

Buck’s standing there moving his head from side to side like a ping pong ball as he watches his husband and son go back and forth in their discussion. After hearing the exasperation and frustration in Chris’ voice, he figures now’s the time to intervene before one of his boys says something they’ll regret.

He walks over and stands on the side of the table and says, “Good evening family. What did I miss?”

What did Buck miss? 🙃

Also, why is Eddie reconsidering their joint decision to let Chris go on a school field trip to San Francisco? 👀

_________

Bad Cop vs. Good Cop Parents

Parts 1-10 are available on AO3 and Part 11 will be available soon.

This series follows Dad!Eddie and Dad!Buck as they parent their two children, Christopher Michael Buckley-Diaz and Daniella Elizabeth Buckley-Diaz.

102K Words; Currently 10 completed works. 

A multi-part fanfic series about Eddie and Buck parenting their teenage son Chris and their daughter Daniella.  Usually, Eddie's the bad cop parent and Buck's the good cop parent but occasionally, their roles reverse. Also, as different situations occur, they are both bad and/or good cops.

"Becoming the Bad Cop Parent" - 7.3K words; Rated General Audiences:  Or Buck gets a call from Christopher's school and for the first time he has to be the bad cop parent.

“Growing as Good Cop Parents” - 8.8K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences:  When Chris makes it home after hanging out with his friends, Buck smells and unmistakable scent and everything that happens afterwards, helps him and Eddie realize they’re growing as good cop parents.

“Bad Words and Bad Cop Parents" - 6.0K Words; Rated: Mature:  After Chris accidentally drops the “F” bomb in earshot of Eddie and Buck, they have a family meeting and hijinks ensue as they work on eliminating “bad words” from their vocabularies before they have an addition to their family.

"Grateful Good Cop Parents" - 9.2K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences:  Buck and Eddie are anxiously awaiting the birth of their daughter, Daniella Elizabeth Buckley-Diaz.

"Brokenhearted Bad Cop Parent" - 10.2K Words; Rated: Mature: As Eddie prepares to return to work, Daniella’s reaction to his adherence of the LAFD dress code makes him feel like he’s a bad cop parent but Buck’s there to comfort both of them.

"Guys, Girls, Curls and Good Cop Parents" - 5.7K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck, Eddie, Chris and Daniella all have thick hair but Buck’s, Chris’ and Daniella’s is curly and it tangles easily. Since Daniella’s getting older, her hair is growing and Buck and Eddie have to find ways to not only comb and style it but they also need to find the best products to use.

"Both Being Bad Cop Parents" - 10.7K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie have to tell both Chris and Daniella “No” but neither child likes it.

"Guardianships and Good Cop Parents" - 15.0K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Another work-related accident reveals Buck’s and Eddie’s parents’ true motives regarding their relationships with their grandchildren, Chris and Liz. But how will they react when they learn legal guardianships have already been established and they don’t include them?

"Bad Parents vs. Bad Cop Parents " - 17.3K Words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie have confrontations with their parents again but after they’re over, they will define the differences between bad parents and bad cop parents.

Parts 1-10 are available on AO3.

[bartxnhood]

you don’t go to parties | c.h

calum hood x reader

summary: you’re sick of being a celebrity’s girlfriend. sick of the parties, all of it. it was bullshit.

warnings: angst, angst, and more angst. swearing. heavy use of ‘bullshit’

a/n: yup, your fave is back with her brand, angst ! as much as i love to write soft cal i just had to write this. i’m not too entirely proud of this work, but i decided to post anyways. i feel like my writing skills are going down the drain. if you have any tips please let me know. also, i’ll confess, this was inspired by the nancy and steve fight from stranger things but with a twist. i hope you guys enjoy !!! feedback is appreciated.

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2022 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you were suffocating in the sea of people the music was loud, people pushed against you while getting to their friends. you finally backed into a corner with a beer in your hand. somewhere in the crowd, your boyfriend was dancing with his buddies. leaving you alone, yet again. it had been like this every week. this was becoming an annoying routine.

you hated parties. hated them.

but, you attended them for your boyfriend that is the only reason you kept going. but eventually, you stopped. they were annoying, the people there were fake, and you hated being drunk. you always said the worst things under the influence. but, you’d go for calum. he enjoyed having you around, and you enjoyed his presence too, of course, but the partying was getting out of hand.

he wasn’t your calum anymore, every week he would drag you out to another party to get hammered and listen to music too loud. it wasn’t you. you hated every minute of it. but, you’d smile through the night just for him.

you felt like you were drowning, every night you’d be out. it was hard to stay above the water. your mental health was declining, rapidly. but no one knew. it was becoming a habit, calum would leave you sometime during the night and you’d sit in a booth on your phone for the rest of the night.

eventually, you would just leave. which then leads to not going to parties at all.

you and calum were slowly becoming different people. he was out every other night, you were at home wondering what went so wrong? this continued for over a month. you were getting tired. you missed him.

one night, calum was out, per usual, you saw pictures of him going around on twitter. he was dancing with a girl you didn’t recognize, and you didn’t know everyone in los angeles. at first, you didn’t think anything of it, until later that night. the press spotted them leaving the party together with a headline of “calum hood seen leaving l.a club with a mystery girl. what happened to y/n l/n?”

then another night, they were spotted leaving the club again. the media took hold of their sightings and proceeded to make post after post. you scrolled on twitter seeing the headlines and comments the press made. the mystery girl turned out to be someone named miya. in the photos released you saw how she touched him, trying to make advances on him. it made your stomach churn.

‘i never thought calum would be one to pull something like this’

‘i can’t believe he would do this to y/n. i’m so disappointed’

‘i don’t blame him, tbh. miya is so much prettier than that pig’

‘disgusting’

‘y/n deserves it’

you felt burning in your eyes, holding back your sobs as you shut your phone and sinking into the bed. bringing the comforter close to your chin. your chest burned with anger, balling the blankets in your fists silently sobbing.

you didn’t know how long you laid there, but eventually you fell asleep. tears staining your cheeks and eyes puffy. it wasn’t long before calum finally returned home. his loud rustling coming from downstairs woke you.

“we didn’t do anything, you know.” he said, abruptly. “i didn’t say anything” you replied, staring at the wall. “you’re thinking it.” he rebutted. “how do you know?” “because i know you, y/n. you’re worrying. i don’t have to see you to know” you sighed, turning on your right side, now facing him. “calum” he looked down at you, noticing your puffy eyes. “you’re different.” he tilted his head. “what happened tonight was something i never thought would happen. and it’s killing me, cal. i don’t know how much more of this i can take.” you sighed. “it wasn’t like that. i just got her an uber, she was wasted. that’s all. i promise.” he answered.

“do you think you could please take a break from the parties? i miss you, i miss the old you. the one who would have movie dates with me and eat my terrible cookies.” he laughed at the end of your sentence. and maybe you were right, he should spend more time with you. even if it meant he would miss going out, he’d do it for you. he loved you that much. “okay” he smiled, “i’ll stop. we’ll go back to the old us.”

and you did, but it only lasted two weeks maybe. calum enjoyed his time spent with you cuddled on the couch with duke watching awful movies or cheesy rom-coms. it finally felt like old times, being by his side. you felt like things were going back to normal. but it didn’t last very long.

as it neared halloween, calum was informed of a halloween party ashton was throwing. “hey, y/n” he walked up behind you, standing in the kitchen. “ash just texted me, he’s throwing a party for halloween” you almost cut him off but he beat you to it. “before you deny, it is a small party. only close friends. plus, we can pull out the chucky and tiffany costumes?” you stared at him, not believing he was pulling this on you. “if i go, do i have to go to another party again?” you raised your eyebrow, followed by crossing your arms. “no, i’ll never ask you again. just one more time. then were done. i promise”

“will she be there?”

“who?”

“don’t play dumb cal”

“no, ashton only invited close friends.”

“fine, but this is the last time, cal. i mean it.”

the two of you arrived, hand in hand. everyone was dressed up with either their friends or partners. soon enough you spotted the rest of the guys and the girls. immediately, sierra spotted you. “y/n!” she grinned, almost jogging to you and wrapping her arms around your neck. “you look amazing!” you grinned, looking at her outfit, matching luke. angel and devil. “are you kidding, y/n?! look at you! that corset is doing you justice.” she giggled, which then caused your giggling fit. “why thank you.” you accepted her compliment.

“how hard was it for you to get calum to dress as chucky?” she asked, walking over to grab drinks with you. “honestly? this was his idea” you laughed, ordering your choice of drink. “and honestly, i kinda dig it.” “well, i think you both look incredible.”

the rest of the night was followed by your unusual drinking. it was shot after shot, not letting go of your cup once. you were in the living room which everyone was using as a makeshift dance floor with sierra, deciding if you were gonna act like everything was okay, you’d put up an act. you’d do what he wanted.

calum was barely tipsy the entire night, he kept his eye on you, knowing how you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. he watched as you almost drank yourself to death. and eventually, he had to intervene.

“y/n, i think you’ve had enough.” he tried reaching your cup. “nooo” you shook your head, trying to refill your drink. “you..said have fun” he shook his head. “yes, but not to be blackout drunk.” he began pulling on the cup. “stop!” you pulled back, he let go causing the drink to spill all over your outfit. you let the now empty cup fall to the ground, taking a look at him. his eyes wide, realizing what had just happened “y/n..i..” before he finished you stormed off to the bathroom.

“it’s not coming out, babe” he closed the door behind him, watching as you tried desperately to wipe the liquid out of your dress. “it’s coming” you slurred, messily rubbing the rag. he sighed, reaching for your arm. “come one, let me take you home.” you continued the motion, staring at the large stain. “no.” you answered, sharply. “y/n, come on. let me take you home” his voice was soft, not wanting to make you upset.

“you wanted this!” your protested, throwing the rag back into the sink, slurring your words. “no, i didn’t. not this” he started, keeping his gaze on you. “i told you to stop drinking, y/n/n.” you shook your head. “bullshit!” you began to raise your voice. “it’s not bullshit.” his hand now on your back, keeping you from falling over. “bullshit.” you turned back to him, meeting his eyes. “no, it isn’t bullshit, y/n.”

“no, you!” you demanded, and he let go of you immediately. he stared, puzzled only blinking, not knowing how to handle this. how to handle you under such pressure. “you’re. bullshit.”

“what?” his voice barely audible. “what do you mean?” calum stammered. “you’re..pretending like everything is fine. like we’re okay. like miya isn’t ruining us. or..or” calum stares at you, his heart aching. had you felt like this all along? he had hoped this was only the alcohol talking. “like we’re great. like…like we’re in love” you continued, “because we’re partying. yeah, let’s party” you drawled, barely getting the syllables out.

“it’s..it’s bullshit!”

“like..like we’re in love?” he repeated. with a few words, his world had fallen apart. he brought his hand to your face, wiping the hair from your face. “y/n?” “it’s. bull. shit.” you insisted. he shook his head. calum didn’t want to believe the words spilling from your mouth. no, not now. he saw the tears welling in your red eyes, he would do anything to take away your pain. he wanted to fix it. you had kept him grounded for so long, you helped him find his ways. calum was so infatuated with you.

you hadn’t said anything, only staring at him while tears fell. calum felt defeated, he sighed taking a step back then reached for the door. “okay.” he muttered, leaving you alone in the bathroom and slamming the door.

calum sat on the sofa, his body aching, head pounding, and heart aching. he recalled your words from the previous night, he considered leaving the party altogether but he didn’t. he brought you home because he loves you.

it was beginning to rain, the atmosphere was heavy. he felt suffocated, replaying the moments from the party. he wanted to convince himself it was all a bad dream, that you didn’t say any of those words. it was just a really bad dream. he yawned, rubbing his temples hoping the tylenol would kick in already.

“calum?” you groaned, standing behind the sofa and rubbing your tired eyes. like him, your body hurt and the pounding in your head didn’t seem to cease. “hey” he muttered back, not looking in your direction.

you tried recalling the night before, he wasn’t acting right. did you say something to him that made him upset? you couldn’t remember anything past you dancing with sierra. “did something happen last night?” his face was still nose-deep in his phone, trying his best to drown you out. “you tell me” he glanced up to look at you then back at his phone. your heart sank, what did you say to him? “what do you mean? i don’t remember anything. i just remember dancing with sierra..a spilled drink and that’s it.” you replied, falling on the loveseat, across from him. “apparently we’re bullshit” he started, before dropping his phone in his lap. his eyes now meeting with yours.

“i’m bullshit, we’re bullshit, and we were pretending we were in love” he deadpanned. you blinked, not having any recollection of this conversation. “i was drunk, cal. i don’t remember any of that. i don’t think i meant it.” you argued. “right, then tell me.” he demanded.

you blinked, what was he talking about? “what?” calum laughed dryly. “tell me you love me.”

you fell silent, fidgeting with your fingers. you did love him, of course, you did. but lately? you had been questioning it. within the past two months, he was someone different. you knew it wasn’t his fault, you wanted to love him but he wasn’t your calum. this was a debate that had been going on in your mind every day.

calum watched your expression fall, the silence made him anxious. similar to a feeling of being on a rollercoaster. he was anticipating your answer, but maybe he already knew the answer. calum knew after the rumors of him and miya surfaced. yet, he still made himself believe everything was okay because he loves you. to calum you were his sun in the darkest days, you were the one thing to keep him going. and maybe he was being selfish by making you do things you made very clear you didn’t want to do.

“i..” you started, averting your eyes, looking at the wall behind him. “i don’t know,” you said, followed by a long pause. you saw his face soften, realization hit him like a rock. his eyes fell looking at his hands holding his phone. “you’ve changed, calum. and not in a good way. you’re unrecognizable. i’m stuck in this house all the time, only to go out for work or to get groceries. meanwhile your out getting blackout drunk with your friends!”

“you’re the one who chooses to stay home.” you chuckled, “i know because every time we went out i’d end up alone anyways. i was uncomfortable and you didn’t care.” your lip trembled, and your eyes burned to try to keep your tears at bay. “so, yes, blame me, but you’re the one who threw this relationship out a lot of time ago, calum.”

he was picking at his nails now, his chest burning as his eyes began to gloss over. he was never one to show his emotions like this, let alone be so vulnerable around someone. “so what does this mean for us?” he finally looked up, eyes fixating on you. you paused, chewing on the inside of your cheek. what was the next step? “i guess..” you began, “we should find ourselves. i don’t think i can continue living like this.”

it was the blunt truth, calum knew this. he wasn’t dumb. he saw through your facade, he knew you were hurting. “okay.” he nodded, wiping his eyes before any tears could make their appearance. standing up from the sofa, he took a deep breath. “i’ll get my things.” you watched as he exited the room.

[the-likesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

So I've never made one of these rec lists before so bear with me but I felt like the authors in this fandom deserved some loving so here's a few that I've read recently(ish) that I wanted to pass on. I’m going to try to do this semi-regularly maybe. 

Pleaseee please don’t get upset if your fic isn’t on the list, my intention is not to upset anyone that being said if you have a fic (yours or someone else's) that you wanna send me to read then please do! I am always looking for new recs for myself) ❤️

REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

drink the river dry by Rianne (@rianneeyre)

It wasn’t until they were discussing his discharge paperwork and painkiller schedules that it really sunk in for Eddie that Buck would be staying with him and Christopher. That he would be around 24/7 except for his shifts at work. That he’ll sleep on the couch, where he’s been sleeping for days now to look after Christopher. The worst part is that it’s necessary—Eddie isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing for himself for the next couple of weeks. He’s lucky if he can put a shirt on by himself a month from now. Yeah, that’s going to be a problem.

Or: Eddie gets shot, breaks up with his girlfriend, and pines like there’s no tomorrow.

as the lights go down by BekkaChaos (@bekkachaos)

Buck is trying to adjust the neighbourhood power supply to stop the newly hung Christmas lights from tripping out, but he is not as handy as he thinks. Eddie watches from the bottom of the ladder, knowing things can only end badly.

Under Kitchen Light by WheelsUpIn_Five (@two-cut-lines)

It’s 3am and the left-hand side of the bed is cold. Buck’s tired fingers grasp at the sheets, his brain lagging behind.

“Eddie?” It’s mumbled, barely audible, and receives no answer. He prises his eyes open and fumbles for his bedside lamp to push back the shadows of the pitch-black room. He’s alone, and Eddie’s place is cold.

from the ashes by casfallsinlove (@oliverstarked)

It makes the breath catch in Buck’s lungs. He doesn’t know how it’s possible when he’s just spoken to him but suddenly he misses Eddie with such a fierce intensity that it leaves him aching. He presses the phone to his chest so hard it hurts, but he wants the words inside of him, wants them bruised onto his skin and scratched into his ribs. You’re the love of my fucking life, he wants to say back. What he actually types is just as honest.

Sent 10:53pm I miss you.

In which Buck's father dies and Buck takes the long way home.

Sometime Around Midnight by Bob_loblaws_lawblog (@buddierights)

Every moment Buck feels as if he loves Eddie as much as possible, and every moment he’s proven wrong by falling even more in love. He’s proven wrong again as Eddie shifts so he’s facing Buck, lifting his leg onto the couch so that his shin is flush against Buck’s thigh, bringing them closer.

“Buck.” Eddie speaks his name quietly, like its something precious. And Buck falls even more as Eddie captures his gaze in those warm, brown eyes.

OR a series of miscommunication leads to confusion and mistakes, until everything finally becomes clear.

blue enough to bruise by renecdote (@renecdote)

Two things happen at once:

Buck overbalances, arm slipping from around the bridge.

The rope snaps.

They lock eyes for a second, half a second, Buck’s wide and afraid, Eddie’s probably a match with the way his heart is pounding hard enough to hurt, nothing either of them can do, knowing that there is nothing either of them can do, and then—Buck is falling.

love finds a way by alkaysani (@alkaysanii)

It was a quiet day after a long shift, and Buck landed in Eddie’s home instead of his own loft afterwards, dead on his feet. After a much-needed shower and takeout, he found himself wrapped in a throw blanket that Abuela made for Eddie that he keeps on the couch, Eddie pressed against him, their legs intertwined after the man just dropped beside him, eyes already on the TV.

For twenty days and twenty nights, the emperor penguin will march to a place so extreme it supports no other life. In the harshest places on earth, love finds a way.

“Love finds a way,” Eddie mutters, so softly that Buck’s not even sure if he realizes that he’s doing it, but he’s turning to look at him anyway. What he finds is beautiful: Eddie’s brown eyes illuminated by the light coming from the television, reflecting the white and blue of the snow on the screen.

OR the one where Buck finds love again while watching March of the Penguins with Eddie

out of ashes by ashavahishta (@ashavahishta)

“They found Buck.”

Hen’s hand goes to her chest. Chim stumbles like he’s been hit, hand curling around the back of a chair for balance.

And Eddie -

Eddie’s knees give out. He’s lucky there’s a chair right under him because he just buckles, head in hands, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Is he - did they - what…what did they find?”

“He’s alive.”

“What?” Eddie’s head snaps up.

If you do read any of these, please show the authors some love. Leave kudos, comments, stalk their tumblrs etc. maybe make a rec list of your own? Share the love around peeps and have a wonderful rest of your week xxxx