#good god i looked it up hes six foot five

[rynwritesreid]

Sold my Soul | Spencer Reid

Summary: You’re out celebrating with your friends after a recent work accomplishment. Where you bump into Spencer Reid who is working on a case in your city. fem!reader. This is my first time writing smut outside of an overall story, so there is a plot. I hope you enjoy it:)

Content: Dom! Spencer . Sub! reader. Use of nicknames (good girl). Smut (with a plot). Overstimulation. Oral (M and F receiving) Fingering (F receiving) MDNI. 18+

words: 5.3k

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You like to have things under control, but I mean who doesn’t? You could be relaxed on the surface, all calm and collected, all your friends said you had a calming presence. But if one thing went wrong in your daily routine you would be stressed thinking your whole day had gone wrong.

 

But today was a big, you had an important meeting with your editor. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you checked the time once again. You were running five minutes late, and now all you could think about is how unprofessional this would look and how unprepared you felt. You had spent countless hours working on your latest novel, and the idea of someone finding a fault in your writing was making you beyond anxious.

You rushed out of your apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. You reached the street just in time to see your uber pulling up to the curb. The driver gave you a nod and a smile as you climbed into the back seat. You smiled back politely but couldn’t find it in you to make small talk. Your mind was solely focused on your meeting ahead. You had been working on your latest novel for months, pouring your heart and soul into every word.

 

But as the meeting drew closer, you began to second-guess yourself. What if your editor hates your work? What if they find plot holes or inconsistencies that you have missed? The thoughts swirled around in your head like a tornado, and you couldn’t shake them off.

 

As the car pulled up to the publishing house, you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the street. You smoothed out your clothes and adjusted your bag, trying to regain some semblance of control. But as soon as you walked through the glass door, your anxiety escalated.

 

The meeting was difficult, but you felt it was successful. Your editor had a handful of constructive criticisms, but all in all, they loved your work. You let out a sigh of relief as you left the publishing house, feeling like a weight had been lifted of your shoulders.

 

You had decided to call your closest friends to go out and celebrate afterwards. They were always down to go drinking, for celebrations or to commiserate. As you walked towards the nearest bar in the city, your mind was still racing from the meeting. You couldn’t believe that your editor had loved your work, and you couldn’t wait to celebrate with your friends. You pushed open the door to the bar, the sound of laughter and music hitting you as you stepped inside.

 

Your friends were already there, waving to you from the corner of the room. You made your way over, taking a seat beside them. You could feel the nervous energy draining from your body as your ordered a round of drinks for the table.

 

As the night went on, the drinks kept coming. You let yourself relax completely, enjoying the company of your friends and the new sense of freedom that came with having your novel approved. The bar kept getting louder and more crowded as the night went on.

 

Your friends went to get some drinks, as you just wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere for a moment. As you were people watching, you saw a group of about five/six people all sitting together. Each one of them was more attractive than the next. But one specifically caught your eye. He was fairly tall, around 6-foot, mediumish brown curly hair, hazel brown eyes and a face sent straight from the Greek gods. You looked at him and you just couldn’t look away. As he caught you looking, he flashed you a smile that made your heart race. You quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed that you had been caught staring. But you couldn’t help but glance back, and you found that he was still looking at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

 

Suddenly, your friends were back at the table, loudly chatting and laughing as they set down their drinks. You tried to focus on their conversation, but you found yourself stealing glances at the handsome stranger across the room.

 

You turned back to your friends and as asked, “do you guys see that group of people? Do you think they are all like models or something?”

 

Both of your friends turned to look at the group of strangers, looking, more like judging, each one.

 

Lucy was the first to say something, “I think they are. Or whatever job they are in, requires them to look as beautiful as possible.”

 

Alice than spoke, “it almost feels like I’m dreaming. The two older guys are making me question myself.”

 

You chuckled at Alice’s comment. “What about the guy with the brown curly hair? He’s like the most attractive man I have ever seen.” You already knew their answers already, they would tell you how they agreed with you, but he wasn’t their type.

 

“He’s really hot, but the guy sitting next to him is my cup of tea.” Lucy said with a giggle.

 

Alice elbowed her and went “I thought you’d more go for the woman with the black hair. I’ve seen you flirt with women like her all the time.”

 

Lucy looked mildly offended, but in a jokey way.

 

You all laughed together, while still staring at the random group of strangers. You must have looked like a group of weirdos. You all returned to your drinks, and conversation about each of your days. But your attention kept drifting towards the beautiful stranger across the room, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was interested in you too.

 

After some time, you excused yourself from the table, making your way to the bar. You ordered a drink and leaned against the counter, trying to act cool and collected. But as you turned around, you found the handsome stranger was standing right beside you.

 

“Do you make it a habit of staring at strangers and then, obviously, talking about those strangers?” He jokingly asked.

 

“Not really. Only when they all look like models but stand around like they work for the FBI or something.” You replied with a smile, and the feeling of your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You couldn’t help but think that he was more even more attractive up close.

 

“Well, you guessed one of them right. We aren’t all models, but we do work for the FBI. So, were you and your friends all comparing us, seeing which one is more attractive?” He asked in a teasing tone, with a small smirk plastered across his lips.

 

“Woah, you work for the FBI? That’s so cool, I’ve written books about you guys. And yeah, maybe we were seeing which one of you is more attractive. But we all have different tastes, so we weren’t necessarily comparing, more saying which one we find attractive.” You replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist the charm of the handsome stranger.

 

“Well, I hope you found someone to your liking,” he said turning to look at you fully. “Because I think I might have found someone of mine.”

 

“You have? Who is it? Is it one of my friends, because if it is, I have disappointing news. Also, I’m Y/N. I don’t normally introduce myself to strangers, but I am kinda drunk right now.”

 

“It’s not one of your friends,” he said, with a chuckle. “And it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer. You’re smart for not giving out your last name, would be easy to track you down.”

 

“Is that a threat, Spencer? But don’t worry, I only give my last name out on like the second date with someone.” You say with some confidence.

 

“Not a threat, just a warning. You never know who you’ll meet in a bar,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humour. “So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight? Celebrating something?”

 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to share the news of your novel being approved with a stranger. But something in the way Spencer was looking at you made you feel like you could trust him.

 

“Actually, I just got my novel approved by my editor. It’s been a long time coming, and I needed to celebrate with my friends,” you said, feeling a little proud of yourself. “What about you, Spencer? What brings you out tonight?”

 

“Oh, just blowing off some steam with my colleagues. We’ve been working on a tough case for a while. I think we are all missing home.” His voice seemed to have some hurt behind it.

 

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. But you’ve come to probably one of the worst bars in the city to do that.” You were trying to lighten the mood again.

 

“Maybe you’re right. But this bar led me to you.” He said with a little chuckle.

 

Spencer’s words sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, despite knowing almost nothing about him. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you, and you found yourself smiling in response.

 

“Am I really that interesting, Spencer?” You asked, unable to resist teasing him a little bit.

 

“Of course, you are, Y/N. You’re smart, beautiful, and you’ve just had a major accomplishment. What’s not to find interesting?” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

 

As the night wore on, you found yourself constantly drawn back to Spencer. Your conversations flowed easily, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d known him for years.

 

As the bar closed, your friends began to leave, but Spencer was still standing beside you. You could tell he was hesitant to leave, but you couldn’t tell if that because of you or something else entirely.

 

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk? It’s a nice night out,” you suggested, hoping he would say yes.

 

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with interest as he replied, “Sure, I’d love to. But I just need to make a call first. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes?”

 

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation. As you walked outside, the cool night air hit you, and you shivered in response. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm as you waited for Spencer.

 

When he finally emerged from the bar, you felt your heart skip a beat. He looked even more striking in the moonlight, and you couldn’t resist the urge to stare.

 

Spencer caught your gaze and smirked before walking up to you. “Ready to go?”

 

You nodded, still feeling a little nervous and excited at the same time. As you walked, you talked about everything and anything, from your favourite book to your childhood memories. You found yourself sharing things with Spencer that you had never told anyone before, and you couldn’t deny the connection you felt with him.

 

Spencer was different from anyone you had ever met. He was smart, funny, and kind, but also mysterious in a way that made you want to know more. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him, but also drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

 

“Did I hear you correctly earlier, saying that you’ve written books about the FBI?”

 

“I have. But I’ve never gone to get them published. They are always murder mystery books. But that’s not really what I write.”

 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? What do you mean that’s not what you write?”

 

“I write typical romance novels. People tend to like them; I mean I’m not famous but I’m not unknown.”

 

Spencer looked at you with a newfound interest. “Romance novels, huh? That’s interesting. What inspired you make the switch from murder mysteries to romance?”

 

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess it was just a personal preference. I wanted to write about love, and the idea of giving characters happy endings was really appealing to me.”

 

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “I can see why that would be appealing. It’s nice to have control over what happens in your own little world, even if it’s just in your writing.”

 

You smiled, feeling grateful for Spencer’s understanding. “Exactly. Plus, I love the idea of creating characters that people can fall in love with. It’s kind of like bring people together in a way, even if it’s just fiction.”

 

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I understand that you can’t control love or your own love story in real life. It takes a lot of skill to create characters that people can connect with on that level.”

 

“It takes a lot of skill to work for the FBI.” You say with a giggle.

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose it does. But I’m just doing my job, like anyone else.”

 

You shook your head, feeling a sense of admiration for Spencer. “No, what you do is amazing. You and your colleague risk your lives every day to keep people safe. That’s something truly special.”

 

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot coming from you.”

 

As you continued to walk, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness with Spencer that you had never felt with anyone before. It was as if he could see right through you, past all your insecurities and doubts, and still accept you for who you were.

 

As the night wore on, you found yourself slowing down, wanting to savour every moment with Spencer. You were afraid that once the night ended, you would never see him again.

 

“I’m guessing the case isn’t over yet, so you should probably get back to your hotel so you can get a rest.”

 

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “Yeah, we still have a lot of work to do tomorrow. But I don’t want this night to end just yet.”

 

You looked up at him, feeling a little shy. “Me neither.”

Spencer smiled, “Then let’s keep walking. I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet, Y/N.”

 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards his. As you continued to walk, you felt Spencer’s gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. “Is everything okay, Spencer?”

 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure something out.”

 

You looked at him, feeling a little confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“My friends, the people you saw at the bar, said I should try and not talk about work, and find someone who doesn’t work with us. I thought it was going to be difficult. But then I met you.” Spencer’s voice was low and intense, and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek.

 

You blushed, feeling a little overwhelmed by his sudden confession. “What are you trying to figure out, Spencer?”

 

“What this means. I mean I know what it means, kind off. But how someone so perfect, could just be sitting in a bar that I just so happened to go into. I mean I know the chances, it’s just so strange.”

 

You looked at Spencer, feeling the same way he did. It was as if fate had brought the two of you together, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

 

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. “It’s like we were meant to meet each other.”

 

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a mixture of awe and admiration. “I don’t want to let this chance slip away.”

 

You felt a surge of desire at his words, and without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. Spencer responded immediately, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

 

You didn’t want to be cliché, you’re a writer, you’re good with words, but this kiss was magical. It was as though the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and Spencer in your own little bubble of passion and desire. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he deepened the kiss.

 

As the kiss ended, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that this was just the beginning of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you.

 

“I don’t want this night to end,” you said softly, feeling a little breathless.

 

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes shining with affection.  “Me neither, Y/N. Let’s not end it just yet then. Also, did you know you actually share less germs with someone if you kiss them, rather than shaking their hands?”

 

You chuckled, feeling a sense of ease with Spencer. “I guess that makes sense. But I don’t think we need an excuse to kiss each other, do we?”

 

Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “No, Y/N. We don’t need an excuse.”

 

“You know for been a member of the FBI and been in a place where you are having a practically rough case, you are pretty trusting.”

 

“Ahh. You see I work with the BAU, which is the behaviour analysis unit, so I read body language and such. I basically profile people, and you don’t seem like you’d murder or kidnap me. So, yes, I am pretty trusting when I can read someone so well.”

 

You smiled at Spencer, feeling a sense of jealousy and admiration for his skills. “That’s really cool. I wish I had your ability to read people like that.”

 

Spencer shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s just something that comes with the job, I guess. But it can be a double-edged sword sometimes. You start to see the worst in people, and it can be hard to trust anyone.”

 

You looked at him, feeling a sense of sadness at his words. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”

 

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes softening. “It’s okay, Y/N. I have good people around me, like you, who remind me that there’s still good in the world.”

 

“You think I’m a good person? You’ve only known me for around 2 hours, and you think I’m a good person. Well, I’m glad I’ve made a good impression on you.”

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Y/N, it doesn’t take long to recognise a good person. And you, my dear, are definitely a good person. I can tell by the way you carry yourself, the way you treat others, and the way you make me feel.”

 

You blushed, feeling a sense of warmth spread throughout your body. “Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot to me.”

 

Spencer leaned in, his lips hovering over yours. “And I want to you feel even better.”

 

He kissed you deeply, his hands caressing your body as he pushed you up against the wall. Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat and arousal in their wake. You gasped, feeling a sense of pleasure as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

 

“I’m sure someone who works with the FBI cannot get public indecency on their record. Do you want to continue this somewhere else, like your hotel room or my apartment?”

 

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes shining with desire. “My hotel room.”

 

You nodded, realising that the hotel was only two blocks down. You could feel the lust burning between the two of you, and you couldn’t wait to feel his hands on your body.

 

You made it to the hotel in no time at all, your hands already exploring each other’s bodies. Spencer’s lips trailed a burning trail of fire down your neck, and you could yourself shudder in his arms.

 

You pulled open the door to Spencer’s hotel room, turning the lights on as you walked through the doorway. Spencer followed suit; he pulled you closer to him, your hands never leaving your body.

 

Spencer pulled off your clothes slowly, exploring your body with his eyes. You felt a wave of desire wash over you as he looked at your body, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on you.

 

Spencer’s lips were basically attached to your neck, and you could feel desire coursing through your body. You could feel his heartbeat thumping against yours, echoing the same rhythm that was currently coursing through your body.

 

“Do you know people who want to control every aspect of their life, often seek ways to lose control, for other people to control them? A lot of CEOs and bosses will go to professional dominatrixes to help them.”

 

“What are you saying, Spencer? Are you saying you like to be dominated?” You said in a teasing tone.

 

He kind of laughed at your comment.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all here. I think you would like to lose control.”

 

“Is that right?”

 

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a devilish smirk. “I think you would like to lose control. To know that you are completely at my mercy.”

 

You gave a short laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right. Spencer, I don’t think you know me at all.”

 

“I’m good at reading people. You’re a writer, and I bet that you like to control every aspect of your life. You write the plots, you decide the endings, and you feel that you have complete control over your life.”

 

You laughed, “You’re right, that’s me.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N. And I’m not saying you are wrong for being that way. It’s just that I wonder what you would do if you were completely at the mercy of someone else. Seeing how you like to control everything, I bet you would love for someone to take that control.”

 

You smirked, biting your lip as you stared at him. “Hmmm, I think you might be on to something there.”

 

Spencer shook his head, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “I wonder what you would do if I took control of you.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“I would love to try you, Y/N.”

 

Spencer’s lips claimed yours, and he pushed you down on the bed, his hands roaming over your body greedily. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his touch.

 

You could feel him hardening against you, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. He pulled of panties, his mouth trailing a line down your body.”

 

“I want you to know that I’m going to be in control of you, Y/N. And you’re going to like it.”

 

He paused, “Do you want me to control you?”

 

You looked at him, your eyes glinting with desire. “Yes.”

 

Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust, and you could feel yourself getting wetter just from his gaze.

 

“I want you to know I’m going to do whatever I want to you.” He bit you hard on the neck, and you could feel your body tense with desire.

 

“And you’re going to let me.”

 

You nodded, wanting nothing more than his hands on you. He kissed you hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You could feel him crawling up your body, his erection rubbing against your wetness.

 

“You’re going to let me, because you’re going to love it.”

 

“I will.”

 

“You’re going to do everything I tell you to.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Uh huh. And I am going to make you cum over and over, until you’re begging me to stop.”

 

“Please, Spencer.”

 

You gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He pushed two of them inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out. You could feel yourself tightening around him, your hips bucking in sync with his fingers.

 

His lips trailing a burning trail down your body. He could tell how badly you wanted to cum, he was reading you like a book.

 

“Beg me.” Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust.

 

“Please, Spencer. I want to cum”.

 

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl, and tell me how badly you want to cum.”

 

“I want to come so fucking badly, please. Please, Spencer, let me cum.”

 

His pace fastened, you moaned at Spencer’s actions and his words. He moved his thumb towards your clit, he pressed down hard. He could feel you tightening even more around him.

 

You were so close to cuming, the anticipation of your orgasm was almost painful. Your pussy was dripping wet, and you could feel the juices flowing down your legs.

 

“I want you to cum for me.”

 

Your mouth dropped open, a loud and crude moan leaving your lips. Spencer’s name followed; you were almost singing it. Spencer couldn’t get enough of this. You looked so beautiful like this; this was all for him and he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to get to see you like this.

 

“That’s it, let it all go.”

 

Your orgasm hit hard. His kept nursing you through it, showering you with praises. His eyes kept looking over every inch of your body. The orgasm shook through you, your body shaking with desire. You felt him slide his fingers out of you, and you could feel your body shaking with desire.

 

He leaned over you, his lips brushing a kiss against your neck. He stood up, he was still fully clothed, and you felt exposed. You lay there, watching him take all his clothes off. It gave you the opportunity to look at his body, which you had already known was amazing, but you could appreciate it even more as you watched him in the dim light. He kicked his pants off and walked towards you.

 

“Spencer” You panted.

 

“I love the way you say my name.” He smirked. “Can you stand up for me?”

 

You gently nodded your head, even though your legs felt a little bit like jelly, you wanted to stand for him. You pushed yourself up off the bed, you stood there, looking at him, your eyebrows shot up when you saw the look on his face. He looked at you like he was going to eat you alive, and that sent a shiver down your spine.

 

“That was only one of many, but I feel like I deserve a reward. Don’t you?”

 

You nodded your head once again.

 

“Okay, I’m glad. Now I want you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me, is that okay?”

 

You nodded your head, your breath quickening.

 

“Good girl, now I want you to take my cock out, but don’t touch it.”

 

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, watching as his eyes roamed over your body.

 

He felt himself get harder, the look in your eyes made him feel like the king of the world.  

“Take it out.”

 

You heard him moan in appreciation. You slowly pulled down his boxers, watching as he carefully stepped out. You reached out your hand, wrapping your fingers around him.

 

“I didn’t say you could touch it just yet, did I?”

 

“No, sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, just tell me you won’t do it again.”

 

“I won’t do it again.”

 

“Good girl.” He smirked. “Now I want you to put my dick into your mouth.”

 

You heard him hiss as you took him into your mouth. He kept looking down at you and you could see the lust in his eyes.

 

You could feel yourself getting wetter, just hearing him moan was enough to drive you wild. He fucked your mouth, and the way he moved in and out, would make anyone cum.

 

“That’s it baby,” he moaned. “I want you to suck my cock until I cum in your mouth.”

Your heart was racing. You could feel his dick twitching in your mouth.

 

You ran your tongue over the head and feeling him shudder under your touch.

 

 “Oh yes, just like that.”

 

“You’re doing so good.” He panted. “I’m so fucking close.”

 

You tried to take him deeper into your mouth, but it was hard.

 

“I’m going to cum.” He moaned.

 

Your mouth filled with his sticky cum. He moaned out loudly, before he pulled himself out of your mouth. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you.

 

“You look so beautiful like this. I’m so lucky that I will be able to relive this image over and over again.”

 

“I want you to lay on the bed. But do not touch yourself.”

 

You did as you were told. You can’t believe a man this hot was having sex with you, you could barely believe that he knew exactly what to do to you.

 

He climbed on the bed, his kissed you, his tongue fighting for dominance in your mouth. He started to kiss you all the way down your body, your body felt like it was on fire. His mouth finally landed on your clit, his fingers found their way back to your pussy.

 

“I love how wet you are.” He moaned. You could feel the vibrations from his mouth against your clit, making the pleasure even more intense.

 

You were moaning uncontrollably. Your hips were rocking against his face and fingers. You knew you were getting close.

 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You moaned.

 

He kept working his mouth against your clit, and his fingers against your pussy. He knew exactly what you needed.

 

“Come for me baby.” He moaned.

 

Your back arched, you moaned out his name. He moaned against you, the vibrations adding more to your orgasm. He slowed down as your orgasm slowed down. He gently blew on your clit, causing you to squirm.

 

He pulled himself up, kissing you passionately on the lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands glided down your body. You were in total bliss, everything about this man was perfect.

As you thought you were actually in heaven, you heard a phone ringing and Spencer got off the bed. He grabbed his phone and walked into his bathroom. He was in there for a few minutes. He walked out with a sombre look on his face.

 

“I’m so sorry, there’s been a lead in the case, I have to go. You can stay here for the night if you want to, but if you don’t, please leave your number. This can’t be the last time I see you.”

 

You nodded; you felt a wave of sadness wash over your body.

 

“I’ll give you my number, I think I’ll head home. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you either.”

 

You read your number out to Spencer and started to get dressed. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek and left. You felt hopeful you’d see Spencer again, but it still hurt that you wouldn’t be falling asleep in his arms today.

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[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Mermaids Don’t Exist]

Summary: Jake continues to plays your knight in shining armour when tensions rise between you and an overly intoxicated patron. Bob brings up a mutual memory.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Sexually degrading comments made towards reader. Sexual tension, trauma. Mentions of death & violence.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Still not writing as much as I once was but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Any comments, thoughts or concepts are welcome!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dreams mainly occur when the body falls into a stage of sleep referred to as R.E.M. Rapid eye movement occurs when the brain and body are finally able to completely rest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that when your body is able to rest, it allows you to do so. 

“We’ll find you, Y/n!” 

Nightmares are typically thought to be an evolutionary conserved trait. Some researchers believe that nightmares provide a rehearsal for life-or-death situations. Before you lived one? You would have said something along the lines of ‘that checks out.’

“No no no no please, Patrick, stay with me—“ 

Some researchers believe nightmares to be a practical experience for many people as it allows the brain to run through multiple different algorithms to find the most desirable strategies, and solutions to often critical and complex situations. 

From a procedural standpoint, simply imagining doing an action can improve your performance.  

“I love you—take Charlie.”

This applies when we simply imagine doing an action such as playing the piano or running for your life after being run off the road, it activates something called a mirror neuron. 

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here, girly.” 

In theory, the more nightmares you have, the more of those algorithms your brain is able to run, and the more prepared you’re likely to be for the daily struggle of survival. 

But evolution herself is seen by the scientific community more so as a tinkerer than as an inventor. 

“Oh god—please, not my baby, please! Someone! Help us!” 

So, that’s probably why you have the same nightmare over and over and over again every single night. 

Every morning you wake in the same way, with your face pressed into your pillow and your chest sinking into your mattress. Secretly, every morning you wished that your pillow would have suffocated you in your sleep so that today would forever be unobtainable. But you couldn’t do that, no. Not when the only way to bring a sense of worth to your life was to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

With a groan and a look that spoke volumes to your lack of self-esteem, you rolled onto your back and let out a heavy sigh. Your hands were quick to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon rays beaming into your bedroom via the slightly cracked windows. 

“Your name is Y/n Y/l/n, you are doing the right thing.”

Guilt and grief aren’t linear emotions. They don’t have a perception of how much time has passed. Realistically it had been three years, six months, and two days since your entire world had been flipped upside down. But every morning, after seeing your husband bleeding to death as he sat pressed against the steering wheel, and having held your five-year-old son in your arms while he took his last breath, the wound was reopened.

And the clock always resets.

“Ah, there she is.” You couldn’t help but hang your head in shame almost. Penny’s glare from behind the bar was as piercing and sharp as it was endearing and playful. Like a woman who took no shit from no one. “You know, you’d think management would be here on time more frequently than whatever the hell this is.” All you could do was take the semi-serious scattering from the owner of the bar you’d been lucky enough to be set up with a pretty good gig at. “Get over here and give me a hand will ya?” 

“Sorry, Penny—” There wasn’t much more you could say to justify yourself. You woke up late, got ready slowly, and got lost in the steam of your mid-afternoon shower as you fought off the existential dread that was your current situation. “Flat tyre,” You shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal that you were currently twenty-three minutes late for your shift, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah well, you can start by clearing off the table by the piano,” Penny smiled as she nudged her head in the direction of the unruly table of patrons that had surely had far too much to drink. “Think Rick’s had a little more than his liver would care to admit.” 

“Yeah righto,” you sighed as you came behind the bar, doing up your apron as you looked around at the utter mess that had become the place. “I’ll sort him out.” 

North Island wasn’t somewhere you ever saw yourself living, but that was the real kicker in all of this. You didn’t mind the picturesque town with clear blue skies and water that mirrored it. But being the outsider, being the new resident, being the Hard Deck’s newest manager was all some of these people saw you as. Six months in a small Naval town was barely a dint in the years some of these families had been living here. 

“Aw hello, Brewer!” Rick Spencer, the resident rioter, cooed as he beamed your way. For someone in their mid-sixties, he surely went alright. “What brings you in on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Typical - If you could have, you would have rolled your eyes so far into the back of your head you would have fallen over. Instead, you chose to smile and settle into the nightlife festivities with a can-do attitude and a rather cheeky smile. 

“Came to check on you, Spence? How’s everything over here boys?” It wasn’t uncommon for you to entertain the banter most of the patrons would give you. Most of the locals had caught on quickly that you enjoyed a good laugh every now and again but also knew how to handle your own. 

But there's always one in every group, isn’t there? 

“Would be a hell of a lot better if the barmaid was a little more topless! Right boys!?” A man you hadn’t seen before interrupted before a roar of ‘yeahs’ and agreements were made. Fists and beer bottles along with spirits alike slammed against the tabletop. “Come on girly—” The man continued as you stood there holding the empty bar tray, ready and waiting to collect the empties that littered the table. “Get your kit off.” 

“I don’t think so, boys,” You politely declined the offer of public indecency. “Perhaps in another lifetime.” 

“Sorry about him, Brewer,” Rick explained as he shook his head and stood from his seat at the booth. “My nephew’s here for a few days.”  

“Yeah well, so long as he remembers I run the joint and can have him tossed any time,” You replied sternly. “Keep him in line, Rick.” 

“Oh come on now, sweetheart, I was only joking!” The man you only knew as the nephew chuckled as he overheard your comment. “It’s slim pickings around here anyway, you just look like the best of a bad bunch is all.” 

“Hey!” That voice, that far too familiar voice echoed through the crowd. “You speak to her, or any woman for that matter, like that again? So help me god I’ll punch your teeth right through the back of your skull.” Jake snarled as he came to stand in front of you with his back nearly pressed right into your chest. “Got it!?” The close proximity, the overwhelming aroma of the familiar cologne, and the notes of burnt orange and bourbon made your heart warm. It all had your heart beating against your chest with a force so intense you thought it might break through. 

“Yeah right,” the man only known as the nephew agreed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get on the waters for a while.” 

“That and a pretty big tip should call us even,” you added with envy conviction laced in your voice that you even had yourself fooled that everything was alright. “Let me just grab these empties for you fellas.” 

You didn’t mess around with it, you simply let the group fall back into their regular chatter as you filled your tray. 

Jake stood with crossed arms a little off to the side, eyeing off all the men who sat idly. Fucking pricks. 

“Been here all of five fucking minutes—” Jake could sense your frustration as you turned into him. At first, he didn’t move, he simply stood there drinking you in as you held the now full tray of dirty glassware. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” was all you said. 

With wandering eyes, Jake didn’t miss a single inch of you. 

“I know,” Jake smiled softly as he reached around to lead you back to the bar for a moment to decompress. His hand gently fell to the small of your back as you walked side by side, “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but just because you’re capable? Doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.” 

Alone, that’s all you’d ever been for the last three years. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” the sigh that left your body allowed your shoulders to relax as you placed the tray onto the bar and slid it over for Penny to take. “Thanks, Jake, I owe you one.” 

Jake Seresin had never been the kind of guy who saw himself settling down. But when he first saw you, that thought hadn’t left his mind. 

“Name a time and place,” Jake teased as he sent you a wink. It didn’t take Jake long to find himself at home up by the bar, perched on one of the bar stools as he entertained his favourite bartender. “I’ve always wondered what our first date would be like.” 

“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Seresin?” You knew Jake had a thing for you, it wasn’t all that hard to put together. But it could never work, not in a million years. Not when you were playing pretend on a professional basis.

“What’s that even mean?” Jake asked as he leaned his elbows on top of the bar, grinning ear to ear as he pressed your buttons more. 

“It means—“ You cooed as you leaned into his space, making it known that the flirting was welcome, but the end goal wasn’t in sight. “I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.” 

“Pretty good-looking set of pants if I do say so myself,” Jake teased as his eyes trailed down the expanse of your body, then back up. Those emerald cities of his were full of complex wonder and undoubtable loyalty. Something you could never give back. “But despite the fact I think you’re pants would look a hell of a lot better in a pile on my bedroom floor, I’m not just doing any of this for a chance to, well, you know what I mean.” 

You did know what Jake meant, and for all intents and purposes you could admit to yourself that it sounded very tempting. But you knew what the repercussions would be.

“Jake, that’s all very sweet of you,” you felt as if you had this very conversation every week. The gentle let down. The kind-ish conversation where you reminded the overly-confident and somewhat self-assured Aviator that you weren’t looking for love or lust, or anything. Besides, there were already too many people looking for you. “But you know, as much as I think you’re a good guy and friend, I’m not interested.” 

Jake stood silently before you, drinking in all that was you. From the lines etched into your forehead to the small scar that ran through your left eyebrow. He wasn’t listening, there was just something about you. Something so intriguing that he couldn’t stop trying to win you over. He couldn’t stop trying to get you to give him just one chance. One chance was all Jake wanted to convince you he wasn’t everything he knew people had told you he was. 

“What would you say if I asked you to–” Before Jake had a chance to finish his question, the echoing sound of a glass shattering into smitherings against the wooden flooring, interrupted his train of thought. 

“OOOIII– TAXI!” It was almost as if all the patrons, besides Jake that was, had all congealed into one as they yelled shouted and cheered towards the man who had dropped his glass. With a heavy sigh and a quick roll of the eyes, you knew you would be the one who ultimately had to clear the mess. 

“I should probably get back to work.” The silence that came from Jake was deafening as you pulled away from where you had been standing far too close to a man you thought you didn’t want. A man you couldn’t have even if deep down you really wanted. Life was unfair like that. You couldn’t have anything you wanted, anything you loved. Anything that made you happy in the smallest of ways. 

“There’s really no chance of getting you to agree to just one date, is there Brewer?” Jake watched as you made your over to where you kept the cleaning supplies in a small section behind the bar. 

“If you already know that then why do you constantly make such an effort?” It was the look on your face that told Jake everything he needed to know. There was no chance in hell he was ever getting that date. 

But Jake Seresin never gave up without a fight, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to now. 

“Because you gentled me, Brewer,” Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who wanted to settle down. He was always so content with the relations he chose to have and the way he chose to have them. Short simple quick flings. Girlfriends who lasted no longer than a year and one-night stands he’d promise to call but never got their numbers. But then there was you. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Please don’t put that on my shoulders, Jake,” You weren't sure how to respond to that, how to process that kind of admission. “Just lay off the heroics for a while alright? I don’t want people getting the wrong impression.” 

“That impression would be?” Jake questioned like you’d just insulted his very being. That it would be a crime to love him. 

“Jake, I have a job to do alright,” It wasn’t that you were angry or upset that Jake cared for and about you. It was more frustration on your part for not being able to act on your own feelings towards him. It had been three years since your husband died. Three years since you felt the loving embrace of another human being. That alone was enough to frustrate anyone. “Please, just–just, I need to get back to work.” 

The thing about nightmares is that they often don’t stick to their own parameters. Sometimes, you end up living a nightmare more often than you dream one. Right now? As Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the heart, you knew you were wide awake. Living a nightmare that continued to punish only the good. 

“You’re untouchable,” Jake sighed to himself softly as he shook his head in defeat. “The untouchable woman who won’t let anyone in, you’re too proud or something aren’t you?” 

“It’s just–” All you wanted to do was explain yourself, pull Jake aside and let him in on why you couldn’t allow him to love you the way you wanted him to. But no words came out as you stood there holding the old dustpan by your side. 

With every blink, you saw flashes of Patrick. The love you lost too soon, too suddenly. He made sure to haunt your dreams to keep you safe. For a brief second of all-consuming anguish, you saw him too. Standing right behind Jake, warning you not to. “I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.” 

“Right,” Jake clenched his jaw when he felt the word vomit about to spew from his lips. He wasn’t mad, rejection just wasn’t something he was familiar with. “When you get a chance, put a Budweiser on Bradshaw’s tab.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line of regret, instantly kicking himself for pushing. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the chase was as addicting as it was thrilling. With a simple knock of his knuckles on the bar before, he turned on his heels. Leaving you to stand there in your own self-loathing. 

Your heart sank as you watched Jake shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a head that hung so low you almost wondered if his neck would be sore. Guilt, shame, it all felt the same. But you couldn’t let Jake in, you couldn’t allow him into your life more than what you’d given him over the last six months. 

You’d tangled yourself in barbed wire so you couldn’t be reached by anyone. Unknowingly bleeding when as it digs into you more and more. You would think the touch of skin on yours wouldn’t be so terrifying, but you’d been bruised before. You couldn’t allow Jake to fall into your web of lies that kept you safe from harm’s way. If hurting him was the only way to keep him safe, you’d hurt him twice over every single day.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay the untouchable woman. 

***~***~***~***~***~****

As a child, there was magic in the mundane. You often found yourself missing the mermaids among the koi in the pond, their glittering scales reminiscent of a childhood fairytale. Summer mornings you’d make bouquets out of the same flowers adults would now mow away while wrinkling their noses at the weeds. 

You often wondered to yourself when the awe of the day-to-day faded away and when you stopped believing in your ability to see mermaids in the momentous world around you. 

“Another round fellas?” You tried not to think too much about the way Jake’s eyes burned into you like a fiery sunbeam as you stood behind Rooster. “Same old same old? The usual orders of Bradshaw’s table?” The squad, affectionately known as the Daggers erupted into laughter all the while Rooster remained silent and brooding. 

“You are all bleeding my dry,” Bradley sighed as you made the rounds and collected all the empties onto your bar tray. “Seriously, I know you aren’t all working for free, cough up.” 

“You could– just apologise for being a Neanderthal and I’ll close it out?” Your statement left a bad taste in Rooster’s mouth, he wasn’t one for apologising for things he didn’t think he’d done wrong. 

“I could,” the brooding moustache-having man replied. “But it’d be an empty lie.” There was something about Bradley Bradshaw that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, he was–an only child. He probably never imagined mermaids among the koi.  

“Appreciate the honesty there, Bradshaw,” you chuckled deeply as you finished you collecting all the empty glasses and beer bottles. “Guess the next rounds on you.” 

“Here here,” Coyote chimed in with a Cheshire Cat grin. “All in a hard day’s work there Rooster, you always know how to piss off the barkeep.” 

“Works out in our favour,” Bob smiled as he passed you two empty glasses. “I don’t think I’ve paid for a drink of my own in a few weeks now.” 

“No, you just keep trying to convince everyone Brewer here was your first kiss,” Phoenix smirked as she finished off her beer. 

All the air inside your lungs felt like they had been sucked right out. The chills that ran down the expanse of your spine made your blood run cold. You stood tall with your now full tray of old beer bottles and empty glasses and sent a polite smile Bob’s way. 

“You still riding that wave?” 

“You just really look like Y/n from Nurellun Public,” Bob countered with an almost pleading tone. “She was my first kiss by the sandpit and I remember she had a little yellow dot in her right eye.” 

“Brewer has a yellow dot in her right eye,” Jake decided to enter the conversation from his place in the corner of the booth. “Tell you what Floyd, you must have been one shocking kisser if you got Brewer here to change her damn name.” The table erupted into a loud boisterous laugh as the Weapons System Officer sunk a little lower into his seat. 

You felt for Bob, being the butt of the joke was never a good feeling. But when your case officer relocated you to North Island, he didn’t bank on one of its locals being your first snog. You hated gaslighting the guy, but you had no other choice. Bob Floyd had to stay in the era of Meridamis and weed bouquets. 

“Like I told you last time Bob, you’ve got the wrong girl,” It was as nonchalant as it was dismissive. “My first kiss was with Johnny Bennett out at some random guys shed.” You had gotten used to lying about your life and who you were. At the very beginning it was almost impossible, but three years on? You’d gotten pretty good at playing pretend. 

Only you wished it could be with the mermaids in their fairytales. But much like all those mermaids and all those fairytale stories……you didn’t exist. Much like Johnny Bennett.  

***~***~***~***~***~ 

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @mamachasesmayhem @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87 @kajjaka @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @imladrisofabookdragon @buckysteveloki-me @mrsevans90 @allepaula @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @paperbag33

[arc-misadventures]

NNN : D

Hana: Hahahaaaaa~! I manage to make my blond himbo lose his stupid NNN challenge!

Angela: Blond himbo? Hana dear, you better not be speaking of my husband. Because if so, I will kill you, reserect you, and then kill you again, over, and over again until I am satisfied… understood?

Hana: Ha! Good joke, Angela.

Angela: …

Hana: G-Good joke…?

Angela: …

Hana: Okay, hold on, you’re married?!

Angela: Yes, yes I am.

Hana: …

Hana: For how long?!

Angela: Lets see… I got married when I was nineteen… So my husband, and I have been married for twenty years now~!

Hana: Twenty years?!

Angela: Yes. Our wedding anniversary was a few months ago, just after our daughter’s nineteenth birthday.

Hana: You have kids?!

Angela: Yes, eight wonderful children~!

Hana: E-Eight kids?!

Angela: Mostly Twins, and triplets. Seven girls, and one son if you’re curious.

Hana: Eight kids…?

Hana: …

Hana: Honestly, you don’t look like you’ve even had one kid…

Angela: I shall take that as a compliment.

Hana: W-Well, I’m not going after your husband. I didn’t even know you were married! A-And, he’s a year younger than me, not some guy in his forties!

Angela: Very well. So tell me… how did you make your ‘blond bimbo’ loose this, NNN challenge thingy?

Hana: Uhhh… M-Mostly by accident…

Angela: By accident; what kind of accident?

Hana: …

Hana: I got stuck in, Tokki…

Angela: What do you mean by ‘stuck?’

~~~

Hana: Oh no…

Hana: I’m stuck…

Hana: Grrrr! Come on! I just gotta wiggle myself out of hereeeeeeee…!

Hana: …

Hana: Shit…

Hana: Tokki! Open up! Let me gooooo!

Hana: …

Hana: HELLLLLP! Someone one, anyone! HELP!

: Hana? Hana, did you call for…? The hell?

Hana: Oh thank gods you’re here! Can you get me out?

: How did this happen?

Hana: I didn’t get out fast enough, and it closed on me. Can you help me?

: Isn’t there an emergency release button you can press?

Hana: Yes, but my arms are pinned, and I can’t reach it! There’s another one on the outside, can you hit the button for me?

: That depends…

Hana: On what?

: Can I… Can I tap that ass first…?

Hana: …

: …

Hana: Yes.

: Awesome!

(RIPPPP!)

: Let’s begin~!

~~~

Angela: I see… Well, it looks like everything work out in the end.

Hana: Oh it worked out; It really worked out~!

Angela: Well, I’m glad for you. But, I didn’t know you were dating anyone, who is he?

Hana: He’s a, Huntsmen-in-training. His name is, Jaune Arc.

Angela: Jaune… Arc…?

Hana: Yeah, Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls of the tongue, ladies love it~!

Angela: Tell me… Does he have blue eyes, is about six foot five with white armour, and uses a longsword…?

Hana: Yeah, he does… How did you know?

Angela: He’s… He’s my son…

Hana: …

Hana: Oh fuck…

///

I don’t know why, I just find this pairing interesting.

[ganymede-princess]

A Hazy Shade of Winter | Angus Tully

PART 2

ship: Angus Tully x fem!OC

warnings: Angus is literally so mean, but he's like that in the movie anyways.

summary: Carol's parents send her to spend the winter break with her uncle at Barton Academy, and a certain curly-haired boy takes an immediate (dis)liking to her.

word count: 2790

a/n: I watched the Holdovers like 2 nights ago and I’m obsessed with it now so here’s this! Maybe a second chapter coming?

written by @ganymede-princess

Misery. Absolute fucking misery. That’s all Angus could see for the foreseeable future. Just an ocean of black, sticky misery, stretching out to the horizon in every direction. As he settled his bony rear on the hard edge of the ping-pong table and listened to Hunham gleefully dole out their sentences, he thought he would vomit any moment, or drop dead. He kind of hoped he would. He scoured his eyes over the pitiful creatures he’d be bunking with this winter break; two little boys: a religious fanatic and a foreign exchage student, the school’s star quaterback, and fucking Kountze. Five little Christmas orphans. Angus would blame karma, if he believed in that hippy-dippy shit. The most unbelievably unfair part of all this was that he wouldn’t even be able to jack off in peace since all five of them would be bunking in rooms one and two of the infirmary, with Hunham in room four. God knows why they couldn’t use room three, but Hunham seemed determined to avoid any questions pertaining to that.

Just when he thought his holiday couldn’t get any worse, the girl arrived. She skittered in like a mouse, out of breath, red-faced and shaking like a handbag dog. Six little Christmas orphans.

“Ah, you’re here.” Hunham extended his hand welcomingly, and gestured to her to step forward.

She crept over, giving the ping-pong table and couch full of boys a wide berth, then nervously shook Hunham’s hand and scuttled away to sit on the floor and tuck her knees up under the frumpy men’s jumper that swallowed her whole, like a turtle retreating into a shell. She waved at the five of them, cherry lips curling into a tight smile.

“Is that a girl?” Kountze said, loudly.

“Indeed, it is. Students, this is Miss Carol Hunham, my niece. She will be joining us at Barton for the winter break.”

“Teddy Kountze.” The little freak said, practically falling over himself to shake her hand. He looked ridiculous crouching there beside her like he was about to accost a rabbit at a petting zoo. If brown-nosing was a sport, he’d be a world classer. “Wonderful to meet you. If you need a tour guide, come to me. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

She nodded in thanks, regarding him with huge puppydog eyes. Angus thought she must be dumb or tongueless. Five-foot-nothing, wearing unfashionably tapered plaid pants and Chelsea boots that were all the rage a decade ago, huge turtle-shell glasses that made her brown eyes bulge out of her head like a salmon… the only cool thing about her was her dirty blonde shag haircut, but even that came across as trying too hard. With that, and those round cheeks and fat mushroom of a nose, Angus almost expected to hear Hunham introduce her as his niece. Almost.

“You’ll be taking her nowhere without a chaperone, Mr Kountze. Now, gentlemen, and lady, off you go to the infirmary building.” Hunham’s one good eye roved over the room, then settled on Angus. “Mr Tully.” He addressed him in his weasley way, voice dripping with schadenfreude. "Be a gentleman and help Miss Hunham take her bags to room three."

Now it made sense why they'd been forced to leave it empty. The little fuck had a whole room to herself.

"I'm not a gentleman." He responded, insolently as possible.

"Then play the part."

"Fine." The ping-pong table screeched backwards as he stood up, grabbed his case and stormed over to the girl who leaped to her feet, eyeing him warily as he marched her out of the room and collected one of her ridiculously heavy suitcases and set off outside with the puppy in tow.

"Um." She began, her voice a pathetic whimper. "I'm Carol Hunham."

"I heard."

"And you?"

"Angus Tully. Are you deaf or something?"

"He d-didn't say your first name." Angus grunted in response. "So, you're- you're holding over?"

"What?" The question was so insipid it made him stop in his tracks and gawk at her. "Of course I'm holding over! Are you stupid?"

"Sorry." She whispered, averting her eyes. Angus felt a rush of regret as her lip trembled, but he swallowed it and marched on.

The air was biting cold, and Angus wished he had two jackets on- or better yet, a hot-blooded model on each arm- but unfortunately he was stuck between this girl making goo-goo eyes at Kountze and her machiavellian gargoyle of an uncle. As the rest of them caught up, his simmering rage suddenly bubbled over and he broke the silence in a voice thick with hatred.

“This is the most bullshit ever! If we have to stay, why’d we have to draw Wall-eye?”

“Uh, y’know he used to be a student, right?” Quaterback drawled.

“Yeah, that’s why he knows how to inflict maximum pain on us, the sadistic fuck.”

“Yeah.” Quaterback agreed with a giggly laugh. “I mean, no offence Hunham, but your uncle sucks.”

“I don’t know him.” The girl had retreated to the fringe of the group, and when she spoke up her voice didn’t command much attention.

“At least we didn’t draw Decker, he’d be perving all over us.” Kountze sidled up alongside her and let his arm brush against her. “And we wouldn’t have Carol here with us.”

Angus rolled his eyes, but felt vindicated when he noticed her pull away from him, almost fearfully.

“Hey, guys, hold up for a second.” Angus leaned up against the pickup at the side of the road and lit up a cigarette, eager to relieve all this tension.

“No, I got something else.” Kountze pulled out a stinking doobie and gestured for his lighter. “Gimme that.”

“Hey, don’t smoke that out here.” He chided. “I don’t wanna get busted by Wall-eye.”

“Don’t be such a pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Angus felt his blood pressure rise. “I just don’t want to get up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”

Kountze didn’t bother responding, just blew out a fat drag and smiled in satisfaction.

“Teddy Kountze.” He said, offering the joint to Quaterback and trying to sling an arm around Carol but she sidestepped him to Angus’s amusement.

“Jason Smith.” Quaterback responded with a sickeningly charismatic smile.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Fucking bootlicker. “You wanna hit this?”

He cast a glance up the road, but Wall-eye was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, yeah.” 

He took a puff and offered it to Carol.

“No, thanks.” She held up her mittened hand. “I-I hear pot can give you the heebie-jeebies.”

“The heebie-jeebies.” Jason repeated, grinning. “Cute.”

She was sort of cute- Angus begrudgingly admitted now that he’d seen her up close- in that pitiful way that those fucked up little pug-dogs are cute. He wondered if she had asthma. Besides, it’s not like he cared. At least, if somebody like her could be cute, maybe he was too, with his hawkish nose, narrow eyes, five o’clock shadow, gangly limbs, scraggly hair… No, that’s ridiculous. Unless… He wondered if she thought he was.

“It’s mellow stuff, babe.” Kountze assured her.

She blushed and shook her head, then turned her massive obsidian orbs to Angus.

“C-can I…?”

He sighed heavily, arranging his face into a scowl before he handed over the cigarette. She took a dainty puff, then handed it back. He took a drag himself, savouring the knowledge that his lips were touching the same place that a girl’s had just rested.

“More?” He offered it back.

“No, thanks. I don’t really… y’know.”

“‘Course you don’t.” He scoffed and stuffed it back in his mouth. “Such a pristine girl, I bet you never did anything wrong in your life.”

Flushing, she averted her eyes.

“So, how’d you get stuck holding over?” Kountze queried, his demeanor forced casual.

“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack,” Jason said cheerfully. “But my dad put his foot down, said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”

“So why don’t you just cut your hair?” Angus snorted, feeling a fresh rush of anger. How could you throw away a perfectly good winter break just because you’re sentimentally attached to your godamn freak flag?

“Civil disobedience, man.” He grinned.

“I dig it.” Carol spoke up suddenly. “Conformity is a dangerous thing.”

“See, she gets it.” Jason put his arm around her shoulder.

“You like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young?” Her blonde lashes fluttered as she gazed up at him. Angus could have puked all over the sidewalk, and Kounze looked like he might actually do it.

“Man, I love ‘em!”

“Almost Cut My Hair?”

“My anthem.” He nodded solemnly. “That album was my whole life last summer.”

“Neat.”

Angus noticed her head tilt to rest on his shoulder as he offered her the joint. This time she took it, allowing herself a long drag. He gritted his teeth and fought off the urge to deck that filthy hippy then and there.

“Anyway,” Jason waved his hand, as if clearing the conversational slate. “My dad’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was kinda hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”

Jason’s hand made its way into Carol’s hair, curling a lock of it around his finger. Angus’s fist closed involuntarily while Kountze’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, lip slightly curled in frustration.

“What about you, Mr Moto?” He said, locking onto his target. “Why are you here?”

“Uh, no. My name is Ye-Joon.” The boy explained innocently. “Uh, my family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Kountze laughed and looked around for approval, to which he found none.

“Uh, wh-what’s a rickshaw?” Ye-Joon seemed genuinely baffled.

“You’re an asshole, Kountze.” Angus said darkly. “Your mind’s a cesspool, and a shallow one at that.”

“Who’s the asshole, Tully?” He sneered back. “You’re the one who blew up history.”

“Hey.” Jason held out his hand gently, then turned to the other kid. “What’s your story, man?”

“Alex Ollerman.” He responded, his voice stronger than the other boy’s. All that faith in a higher power, I guess. “I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?” The kid nodded proudly.

“Don’t you guys wear some kind of, like, magic underwear?” Kountze gawped.

“That’s a common misconception.” Alex began. It seemed he had all his bases covered, and he turned to address the Korean kid too, as if he might convince someone to join. “Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when we-”

“Hey, what’s up with the townies?” Kountze interrupted, already distracted by something shiny. Angus was mildly relieved he wouldn’t be hearing any more panty-talk- he’d had quite enough for one day, what with his bathing suit and all- but, his relief quickly turned to annoyance when he noticed the two men coming down the road, hauling a Christmas tree between them.

“Hey!” He hollered. “What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us.” One of them responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna put it back in the lot.” The other explained. “We do it every year.”

Angus turned back to the group and shook his head darkly.

“This is the most bullshit ever.”

______________________________

Angus didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to be in the infirmary, but when they stepped into the heated building, he might have sighed in relief if he wasn't in such a black mood. His arms absolutely caned from carrying that stupid suitcase, and Kountze had been smack talking the whole way up the hill. He thought the only thing worse than bunking with the two kids would be sleeping in with Kountze while he tries to tickle Jason’s balls. He’d much prefer to cosy up in the girl’s room, irritating as her face may be. He abandoned his luggage outside room two and hauled Carol’s down the hallway while she pattered along at his heels.

"Why do you need two cases, anyway?" He sneered, stealing the comfort of silence. "You can't have that much shit to carry."

"It's-" She paused and cleared her throat. "Well... well, why should I tell you, huh? You're- you're-"

"What? An asshole? A jerk? A philistine, as your mole uncle says? Y’know, I'm pretty sure there's a faculty rule against targeted insults towards pupils."

"You're mean." She admitted in a small voice. "And I don't know why."

"Yeah, well get used to it sweetheart. Just wait till Kountze gets over your gyno-gimmick and starts treating you like he does everyone else, you'll be begging for 'mean.' And by the way, you’re just antagonising him by hanging all over Jason all the time.”

“What’s Jason got to do with it?” She snapped, raising her voice for the first time.

“Aw, I hit a nerve, huh?” He delighted in watching her face turn scarlet.

"Y-y'know, when you stood up for Ye-Joon earlier, I thought you might actually be cool. I'm disappointed."

She said nothing else, just ducked her head and ran ahead to open the door for him. Baffled, he barged past her and dumped the suitcase on the nearest bed.

“Thanks.” She whispered.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" He rounded on her, suddenly tired of the way she let him walk all over her. "I mean, other than to ruin the ambience with that hideous sweater-"

That did it. She let out a choking sob and made for the door.

"Hey, hey wait!" He flailed out his long limbs and caught her around the arm, but she wrenched herself from his grip and made off down the hall, away from Hunham and the other boys to Angus' relief. "Carol, wait I didn't mean it."

She didn’t respond, just sped off and careened around the corner. Angus caught up just in time to see the door of the broom closet swing shut. He clucked his tongue and sat down on the hard floor outside, feeling a wave of disgust as he listened to quiet weeping. Gently, he rapped the door with his knuckles.

“Carol?”

“Go away.”

“Carol, I’m sorry.”

“Go away!”

He paused for a moment, and considered his options.

“Your sweater isn’t actually ugly, by the way. I was just ribbing you, y’know? Horseplay?”

“No.” She said firmly, voice muffled through the wood. “No, I know ribbing and that wasn’t it. Y-you were being cruel, and you wanted to see me cry, I know it.”

“What? No!”

“You enjoy it, don’t you? You’re so miserable, the only fun left for you is making everyone else feel as wretched as you.”

He swallowed thickly, feeling a lump of shame coating his Adam’s apple. He took another long moment to collect himself. He resented how easily she read him, but if he wanted to keep her from finking, he’d have to choose his words carefully, and eat a large portion of his pride.

“It’s true.” His stomach roiled in revulsion as he grovelled to her. “I’m sore about holding over, and I wanted to take it out on someone, and you looked like easy pickings. I’m brash, I’m rude, I hate everyone including myself, and I make it everyone else’s problem.”

She paused her sniffling, as if sizing him up.

“Well.” She said thickly. “Thank you for admitting it. That was very… self reflective.”

“I go to a shrink, I kind of have to be self reflective.”

“Ah.” She sniffled. “You can leave me alone now.”

“I would,” Oddly, it felt good to tell somebody… Good enough that he was able to go back to being sly. “But this closet doesn’t open from the inside. Every time we get a new janitor they get locked in here. Happens like twice a year.” She said nothing, but Angus heard her breathing pick up in pace. “I mean, I can always leave you in here.”

“No!” She said urgently. “Let me out, please.”

“I will, if you promise not to fink.”

“I-I won’t fink. If you leave me be, I won’t fink. Pinky promise.”

“Alright. I’ll stay as far away from you as humanly possible.” He clambered to his feet and opened the door for her. She was already standing, and as soon as she saw the light, she tried to scoot out beside him, but he moved his arm to stop her. “Pinky promise, remember?”

Begrudgingly, she curled her finger around his, then slipped out past him and returned to her room. Angus watched her go, and something broke inside his chest as the door closed behind her.

[coolprettyleo]

obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

[nashusglasses]

note: just had a brief, dizzying spell thinking about subtly flirting with suguru in your jujutsu high years. listen. LISTEN. *shaking your shoulders violently, tears lining my eyes* he'll take care of you. here's my take on the forever-famous perilla leaf debate

.

.

.

Suguru takes it upon himself to be grill master for the night. Satoru's too busy stuffing the little tofu bowls down his throat, and Shoko's already in a sake-induced stupor of laziness.

You try taking some pickled radish. Satoru swipes at it in 0.2 seconds and swallows it down before your chopsticks even reach the bowl.

"There's a bowl closer to you," you complain.

Satoru brightens at your suggestion, grabbing the cold ceramic and tipping the radish past his tongue. "The one you were going for looked juicier," he chews through his words.

Whatever. You could always order more. Suguru says nothing, diligently flipping the beef in the pan. Shoko asks you to move out the booth seat because she needs to piss.

When you sit back down, Satoru is already writing to get 5 more orders of pickled bean sprouts and spicy tofu. "How about rice? Six more bowls?"

Suguru sneers. "You're a pig."

"I'm a growing boy. Okay, six–" Satoru hums to himself, frowning– "and maybe some more potatoes. Do you think Shoko wants mushrooms? Because I want more mushrooms."

While Satoru contemplates Shoko's dietary concerns, Suguru drops a heap of perfectly-browned beef on your plate. "Oh. Thank you," you say, and he nods with a gentle smile.

"Let me know if you want more."

Your heart pangs a quiet beat. You nod, too, picking at the meat, convincing yourself that the heat in your face is from the sizzling plate in front of you, and not from Suguru's rolled up sleeves, or the way he carefully adds more to the pan to cook for Satoru's seemingly-bottomless appetite.

You're almost wary when you make a grab for the perilla leaves. Satoru's too good at guessing your next move. You try to prepare yourself, his quick ha!, all the leaves suddenly stuck in his chopsticks, leaving none to spare.

He's too busy chiding Suguru for burning his beef, though. Good. No sudden movements from the manchild with ten stomachs.

You try to grab a leaf. They stick together, folded over in the slick of sauce, and suddenly you miss Shoko because she's always the first to offer help. Her and her stupid small bladder.

You try again. The bottom chopstick manages to slip under one leaf, but a waitress comes by with the five hundred sides Satoru ordered, and the table rattles when he slams his hands down in excitement, bellowing thank you very much!, and your attempt is thwarted when the leaves curl again.

Satoru scarfs down three radish bowls. You try one more time.

You're almost vibrating with frustration. Did God like seeing his subjects suffer through the pain of repetition? You suppose all good things come with tribulations.

You look up. Suguru's watching you with a blank face.

"Good lord." Satoru groans through a mouthful of rice. "You've been trying to get that for–here–"

–clink.

Satoru's chopsticks, intercepted by Suguru's chopsticks. The poor perilla leaf stretches under the weight of their interruption. Suguru is still watching you.

"Oh," you say.

"Suguru," Satoru whines. "First my burnt beef, now this! You broke them all!"

It's true. The leaves are ripped straight down the middle, and all your meat is cold. But he keeps his eyes on you, chopsticks still a threat to Satoru's, and you don't think you've ever seen him move so fast.

Suguru's mold breaks, then. He laughs, scratching the back of his head in sheepish apology. "Sorry. Why don't you just ask for my help next time?"

"Okay," you murmur, and you grab the desecrated leaf. Suguru hums when he watches you chew. You have the distinct feeling that he's somewhat satisfied.

(Satoru yanks his hand back, grumbling something about god you're helpless in Suguru's direction. You hear the brief stomp of someone's foot. Satoru yelps.)

.

.

.

When Suguru lies down in bed later that night, he thinks of the way you thoughtfully chew your food. He dreams of perilla leaves, and what it must feel like to feel the warmth of your face with his hands.

[sadhours]

Just this thought 😍..

Billy driving recklessly to scare you.

Swerving around, flooring it, loud music so he can barely hear your screams.

But it unexpectedly turns you on, like ALOT.

He teases you about it, says maybe he could help you with your new predicament.

I TAKE FOREVER BUT I PROMISE I’M GETTING TO EVERY REQUEST I HAVE :)

I loved writing this! Thank you for the request, I hope you like it ❤️

masterlist • requests are open

warnings: 18+ minors dni, this is practically pure smut, unprotected sex, p in v, a bit of name calling, body fluids, the usual stuff

The trees lining the stretch of road start blurring together in flashes of green and brown, your eyes glance go the speedometer to see Billy’s going well over the posted forty-five. The car heaves with a heavy foot teasing the acceleration, speeding up with a jerk only to reclaim the steady sixty six miles per hour. It’s a test, Billy’s eyes roll over to you in the passenger seat, a teasing grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. He must get the reaction he’s looking for because when you let out a little yelp and clutch the dashboard with your hands, Billy does it again.

“Jesus,” you exhale, shakily.

“What? You don’t like to go fast?” he taunts, eyebrows knit together in mock consideration.

That’s the thing. You liked it. It was terrifying in the most exhilarating way.

“It’s dangerous,” you press, reaching for the handle on the door for comfort.

Billy leans his head against the seat, turning to look at you and his eyes being absent from the road only worries you that much more.

“Billy! Look at the road,” you insist, “You’re gonna get us killed.”

“Relax,” he moves his hand of the stick shift for a brief second to squeeze your thigh, “I’m having fun. Live a little.”

He shifts gears and floors it, the force of it forces wind into car from the rolled down windows and your hair flies all over the place. It gets in your mouth as you scream, clutching onto the seat for dear life but Billy only turns the volume of the radio up louder, drowning out every petrified sound you make.

It’s not until he starts veering into the opposite lane that the excitement takes an unexpected turn. Arousal. It feels like your thighs are vibrating, heat radiates through them and you can’t help but arch your back as you lean your head against the headrest and let out a guttural moan. It was meant to be a scream and it’s a surprise to even you that it came out sounding much more heated. Billy’s fingers quickly turn the volume down.

“Jesus, you like this more than you let on, ya little fucking nymph,” he grits behind clenched teeth.

You’re floored, moving a hand to grab his bicep as you try to catch your breath. The fucker doesn’t let up, though. You peer over to see he’s pushing ninety. You know the Camaro can go faster and Billy would definitely try. He heaves a deep laugh, eyes looking up at you but you keep yours ahead. There’s a curve in the asphalt gaining, your palm slaps against Billy’s bicep while you squeal and squeeze your thighs together. He catches it at the perfect moment, slowing just enough to not throw his car off the road, but he definitely burns rubber, the smell of it filling the car and Billy pulls over off the shoulder.

“Get the fuck over here,” he demands, shifting into park and sliding his seat as far back as it goes.

You discard your underwear as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans, shoving them to his knees and his cock springs out and slaps against his abs. You maneuver over the center console into his lap, he holds your skirt up and you’re quick to line his cock up with your entrance and sit down forcefully, ensuring he’s balls deep in a second. He grunts, fingers digging into your hips as he licks into your mouth. It’s rushed and chaotic but you relentlessly roll your hips, grabbing at his biceps for leverage.

“Fuck, Billy,” you gasp.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he preens, “such a good little slut for me.”

You feel his cock twitching inside you as you still for a second, overwhelmed with the heat of it all. It’s barely started but you’re already near the edge. The slow, husky drawl of his voice always urges you there.

“I’m your little slut,” you babble, voice pathetic and on the precipice of a cry.

“Yeah, you are,” he growls, his hips jerking up to meet your sloppy thrusts.

You feel so full and the fact that anyone driving by could clearly see what the two of you are doing is disturbingly encouraging. Billy shoves your shirt up over your chest and groans when your bare tits are exposed to him. He gets his hands on them, kneading and squeezing before pinching each nipple between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves right down to your clit and you let out a pleased moan.

“Billy!” you gasp out, gripping on his shoulders to help you confidently fuck down on his pulsing cock.

The noises he makes border on animalistic before you feel his hot mouth covering your sensitive nipple as he swirls his tongue around it. Your head falls back, focusing on how delicious it all feels, his girth stretching you out and the expertise of his tongue. It’s intoxicating, how an innocent midnight drive with him could turn into this.

Billy pulls back and swipes his tongue against his thumb before lowering it between your bodies to rub against your clit in excruciatingly slow circles. He uses his other hand to press against your shoulder and push your body back.

“Lean back,” he mutters, “Against the steering wheel… yeah, just like that, baby.”

With this angle, you both slow your movements. You lift off his thighs carefully before sinking back down, your eyes pinned on his face as you move. Billy’s eyes stay zeroed in on where he’s sheathed inside you, watching every drag upward as more of his cock is exposed to him before inevitably swallowed back up by your dripping core. He looks almost hypnotized, eyebrows knit together, small vein evident on his temple and his jaw hung open while breathless sounds fall out of him. A sudden boost of confidence courses through you, head going fuzzy as the realization that Billy is totally captivated by your body. It’s even more obvious as you feel his cock twitch on the next lift of your ass, only his tip remaining and you lower your chin to your chest so you can get an eye full of what’s got Billy looking so goddamn needy. You freeze your movements, whimpering when he quickens the pace on your clit.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, almost to himself while his eyes travel up your body and back down to where he’s barely nestled inside of you. “Keep moving, baby.”

You nod slowly and lower back down, building a languid pace. Billy preens, “Fuck, yeah… slow, just like that.”

You follow the face for a good while but you need a little more, so you lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck and roll your hips a bit more erratically. You can practically see your orgasm an arms length away, it’s so close but not quite there and you kinda lose yourself in attempts to grasp it. You hear Billy chuckle softly, his free hand sliding back to grab onto the flesh of your ass and aid in your resilient movements.

“You gonna cum for me, doll?” he asks, throaty, “Gonna cum all over my cock, huh?”

Tangling your fingers in his curls, you nod frantically and squeeze your eyes closed as you teeter on the edge. It’s almost there, you can feel the beginning waves of it in your toes and the back of your throat. The sensation is bordering on overwhelming but you don’t dare back down, not with the way Billy drools onto his fingers and awkwardly angles his wrist so he can use the pads of his ring and middle fingers to stroke your aching clit.

He presses hungry kisses against your jaw and urges you with a low tilt in his voice, “Go on, cum for me.”

What sends you over is when thrusts up to meet your own sloppy thrusts and his are more reliable and exacting. A happy cry of his name falls out of your lips as you writhe against him, the relief of your orgasm cloaks your entire body but even when you’re feeling exhausted you don’t stop, you want Billy to cum. Want to feel it coat your walls and fill you up. Unfortunately, he’s a bit more responsible so when he’s seconds away from busting, he’s pulling up and shooting hot, white cum all over your stomach.

He deflates into the seat as he catches his breath, his hand opening the center console so he can dig around it for something to clean up with. He finds a napkin he’s tucked away and wipes up your stomach, smiling satisfied up at you as he does it.

“You always get so turned on when I speed?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Your cheeks flush as you pull your top back down, “No! Well… maybe.”

[taylorsv3rsion13]

we never go out of style || c.f.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

words: 3.0k

synopsis : things were always rocky for conrad and you. after the whole break up, will everything be the same the year later? or will it all turn to shit.

"Good morning, Y/N" Susannah said as she entered my room.

I got up almost instantly, "Oh god, am I late?" I asked.

She laughed a little, "No, you're fine, don't worry."

Susannah hopped onto my bed, looking at me with a cute smile, "Are you ready for your big day."

I shook my head no, "Nope."

"Oh yes you are." She said to me.

"But what if I trip? Or I step on Jeremiah's foot?" I asked.

"You won't, just hold onto Jeremiah." She said, laughing a little, "He won't let you fall."

I laughed a little as well, "That's true."

"You know..." Susannah began, "I still don't know how you got him to be your escort. He swore up and down that he'd never go to any of these things."

I laughed a little.

"Well, he'd do anything for you." She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "They both would."

My smile faltered a little, as I looked around my room, avoiding eye contact with Susannah.

"Everything okay?" Susannah asked.

I nodded quickly, "Yeah."

"Did I push you into this?" Susannah asked, "You can tell me the truth."

"Um... maybe a little at first, but. I really don't mind, I just want to make you happy."

Susannah sighed a little, "Look, honestly, we don't even need to go tonight if you don't want to, okay?"

"No, no, I want to go." I said, smiling up at her. "And I'm kind of excited for people to see me."

Susannah smiled as she placed out foreheads together.

"I love you so much beautiful girl." She said as she held back tears. "Okay um. When they take your photograph, remember to say prune! It'll make your cheekbones look divine." Susanna said.

"Prune?" I asked, trying to see if it would work.

"It's an old trick I learned from Madonna... or was it the Olsen twins?" Susannah said, trying to figure out where she had learned this from.

She hopped off my bed, "Okay, meet me downstairs. There's a surprise for you." She smiled.

I sighed looking at the dress hanging up on my door. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but if Susannah wanted me to wear it, I was more than happy to.

I walked downstairs, not really knowing what to expect. In the living room, stood Susannah, Laurel, and Belly, showing off a beautiful dress. No, they were showing off the dress.

"You got me the dress I wanted?" I said, almost speechless as a large smile grew on my face.

I looked at all of three of them, my mind blown.

"Thank you!" I laughed as I walked up to them.

I gave all three of them the biggest hugs I have ever given anyone in my life.

I finished getting a somewhat more normal outfit on as I made my way into the kitchen where Belly was.

"Hey, Good morning. Um, I picked up some of the muffins that you liked." Conrad said immediately as I walked in, placing them on the counter.

"I-um, I'm not really hungry actually. Thank you, though."

"Oh, girls, you should get going." Susannah announced. "Oh and everyone, stay out of the family room. I've done all of the paintings and tonight we'll have the big unveiling."

Susannah gave the boys a number of things to carry to the Laurel's car.

"Laurel, aren't you coming?" I asked as I put my shoes on.

"I'm going with Susannah, I was thinking Belly could drive you guys?"

Belly and I turned to each other and screamed loudly as she took the keys from her mom.

Belly ran out first as her mom gave me orders to have Belly follow. I raced out of the kitchen.

"Hey." Conrad called out to me.

I stopped in my tracks, "Yeah?"

"Break a leg."

I gasped, "That'd be horrible. I'm supposed to be dancing all night."

Conrad stammered, "I just.. I meant, um, I just mean good luck. It's like, a thing, people, um, say." He rambled.

I laughed a little as he tried to fix his sentence.

"For what it's worth, Jere was the right choice." Conrad said.

"Yeah, uhm, I know." I said awkwardly, before leaving.

Jere leaned against Laurel's car as Belly had already started the engine.

"Don't be nervous, we'll be the best waltzers out there." He joked.

"I'm not nervous. But also, I'm sorry about the volleyball game, I just was really competitive."

"No, It's fine, I understand." He laughed.

"Thank you, Jere." I gave him a big hug before walking into Bell's car.

Belly and I walked into the room together, and it was hectic.

Girls running around trying to get their hair and makeup done. Some not as shaved as they would like and others giving up and resting in their bra's.

"You guys are here!" Shayla exclaimed, her hairs in large rollers.

We hung up our dresses as we said hi to Shayla.

"Come, I've saved you guys spots."

My chair was besides Nicole's who didn't bother to say anything to me.

"You guys should really talk." Shayla said as she looked between us.

"Nicole, I'm really really sorry." I said.

"For what? Conrad? I'm over it, I'm here with someone else." She said. Though, her voice did sound a little passive agressive.

"Nicole, I never meant for that to happen and I know it's dumb and it means absolutely nothing, but I've liked him since I was a little girl. And I thought I got over him last year, but I guess I didn't fully and I distanced myself from him as much as I could. I'm really really sorry." I explained.

"We can't help that Conrad's a fuck boy." She said as she was slumped in her chair.

"Look I'm over him." I said, giving her a soft smile.

"No one get's over their first love, really." Nicole said before returning back to her makeup.

Belly and I were one of the last ones to finish getting ready. We had helped each other with our hair and dresses and then makeup was brutal.

"I don't know how much longer I can stare at myself." I sighed, getting a headache from just being in the small room.

"You look gorgeous, if I was you I'd stare at myself all day." Belly said from beside me, making me laugh.

"You look amazing Bells, I don't think I'd be able to do this on my own."

I had curled my hair, adding braids to the sides for a more crown affect or so, while Belly's was in a low bun with a beautiful pearl headband.

"I think it's time, Bells." I said getting up as she followed.

Neither of us picked up the red rose bouquet, just staring at it.

I sighed looking up at her and grabbing her arms. "We're growing up, I love you."

At the same time, the two of us grabbed our bouquets, walking out of the dressing room.

I stood behind Belly as we waited for our names to be called.

"Prune. Prune." Belly whispered to herself.

"Oh god, did Susannah teach you that as well?" I asked.

She nodded as we both laughed silently.

"Isabel Conklin, daughter of John Conklin and Laurel Park." They said as Belly and Cam began walking the stage.

They met in the middle and I watched as Belly's face began to contort in multiple ways, attempting to say prune which I laughed at a little.

I looked straight ahead though, remembering the next person called would be me.

Jeremiah smiled at me from the other side of the wings.

Before I knew it, it was my turn.

"Y/N L/N, daughter of Amanda L/N and James L/N."

I walked and met Jeremiah in the middle.

I looked into the crowd, immediately making eye contact with Conrad. God his stupid smile. It just made me smile even more.

I could feel his eyes on me as I walked down from the stage and onto the dance floor.

"You look beautiful." Laurel mouthed to me.

I went to Susannah, hugging her from the back and giving her my bouquet.

She got up as well and gave me a full hug.

I gave a small curtsy as I made my way back to Jeremiah.

"How was the curtsy?" I asked.

"The queen would be proud," He joked.

It hit me now, that when I was with Jeremiah, it felt like there was no one else. All I had to do was look at him.

I watched Laurel get up from her seat quickly. My eyes met Belly's and she mouthed 'what happened'. I shrugged in response, not understanding what had happened either.

"Where is she going?" I asked Jeremiah.

"I don't know."

The escorts began their dance shortly after as the debs walked off the dance floor and sitting at their assigned tables.

The dance began and Belly and I wooed over the applause as we laughed as well. They looked hilarious, but the guys also looked like they were having the time of their lives.

We all stood up as their dance ended, applauding them and screaming, but I could see Jeremiah's face dropping with every second.

Paige clanked a knife to her glass, announcing to us that it was time for the big dance.

"Where'd Jeremiah go?" I asked Belly as I looked around. He never came back to the table.

Cam and Belly looked at each other, and now we knew our night was fucked.

"He'll be here in a minute, I'm sure." Susannah reassured me. "But go! Get ready."

"Okay," I said laughing nervously.

I looked around awkwardly, trying to find Jeremiah, but he wasn't anywhere. Most of the girls were paired up with their partners by now.

"Have you guys seen Jeremiah?" I asked as I approached Gigi and her group of friends.

"I think I saw him go outside." Gigi said to me.

I hated this feeling. Everyone standing and staring at me. Judging me almost.

I looked over to my right and Conrad was standing there, looking straight at me and I was staring straight at him.

I could feel the stares from everyone else as they stared at the two of us as well.

I smiled a little as he walked over to me.

It was like the pieces clicked when I was with Conrad. Like we were always meant to fucking be.

"I think I remember most of the steps." Conrad said quietly.

And at that moment, I knew this was happening all over again. Me. Conrad. Us.

The two of us got into our different lines, our eyes never leaving each others.

The music began and the two of us turned as I turned into his arm. It wasn't what I had expected, but deep down I knew this was the moment I had waited for all of my life.

I was Conrad's sun. And I helped the night disappear. I helped the world disappear from everything around him.

The whole time Conrad and I were on the dance floor, we never looked away. No matter how hard we tried, we just couldn't.

When it came time for the dip in the dance, it lasted longer than it was supposed to as our eyes glanced up and down from our eyes to each others mouths.

"Oh, um. Thank you." I said as the dance ended and the crowd applauded.

"I think I messed up some of the steps." Conrad said nervously.

"No, no, you were fine. You were great." I said.

"I'm glad... I'm glad that it was me." He said seriously.

I smiled up at him as he fidgeted with my fingers. I was glad that it was him as well. When I was with Conrad it was like all of my worries were gone.

"Hey." Jeremiah said as he came up to Conrad.

"Hey, Jeremiah." I smiled, "Where ha-"

"Conrad. We need to talk, all right?" Jeremiah said. His eyes were wet. "It's important. It's about mom. I found something out."

Conrad just stared at Jeremiah. "Um.. yeah, we'll talk about this later, okay?"

"No it's important." Jeremiah urged.

"It's okay." Conrad said as he placed his hand on Jeremiah's chest. Something the boys had done whenever the other was on edge.

"You already know... Don't you." Jeremiah's eyes were bloodshot by now.

"Conrad knows what?" I asked, curious.

"You've known this whole fucking time and you didn't even tell me?" Jeremiah asked, his voice raising.

"Jere." Conrad said to try to calm his brother down.

That didn't seem to work as I watched Jeremiah punch Conrad in the face with all the strength he had in him.

Jeremiah rammed into Conrad as he tried to beat his brother up. Though, I watched as Conrad tried his best to not hurt his brother.

Susannah rushed over, "Stop it. Both of you, stop it." Her voice was raised, which was a rare occurance.

Both of the boys let go of each other as they rolled on the floor.

"What is going on?" Susannah asked sternly.

The boys stood in front of her. And all I could do was wonder.

"Mom..." Jeremiah croaked.

"We know, Mom." Conrad said. "We both know."

Belly and I turned at each other, quietly mouthing what was going on.

"Know what?" Belly and I asked in sync as Susannah's face dropped.

And here I was, crying on the floor in my room. I didn't have anyone to go to. Susannah was with the boys, Laurel was with Belly and Steven.

All I had was the fact that Susannah had cancer yet again.

I don't think I've ever cried that much in my life. Not over a broken bone, or a heartbreak. Not over Conrad.

But here I was, in my shiny white dress, a mess on the floor as I sobbed uncontrollably.

I felt dumb, stupid even. Susannah had been going through this all summer, and I never noticed, to worked up over boys and friends.

I could hear the mixed cries from Belly's room. Some were hers and some were Laurels. With each one my heart broke even more. Now I understood why Susannah kept making comments about this summer.

She was right, this might be the last summer we're all in Cousins together.

I walked down the hall slowly out of my room. Steven was outside of Belly's room, looking as if he was to scared to knock.

Our eyes met and I sobbed even more as he held out his arms for me.

"It's gonna be okay, Y/N/N" He mumbled.

Susannah, Conrad, and Jeremiah all sat on the couch in the living room. None of them were crying. They saw me emerge from the doorway though.

Susannah motioned for me to sit next to her, in between Conrad and her, which I did.

"I'm so sorry, this was not how I wanted you guys to find out." Susannah said sadly.

"Susannah, you're gonna do the trial, right?" I asked through muffled sobs.

She hesitated as she looked at me, "Uh... No, love, I'm not."

My heart broke at her words as I stared at her for a moment longer. What did she mean? Was she insane? She needed to fight. For me. For the boys. For Laurel. For all of us.

Conrad seemed to break down slowly as well from besides me.

"Chances are very slight. Well, nonexistent really. And I can't just go through that again."

"But you have to try." I said, a tear escaping from my eye.

Susannah sighed, "I want to be me when I go." She stared at me with a soft smile, "Does that make sense?"

"No, no. None of this makes any sense." Jeremiah said.

"I know, I know, I'm not good at this." Susannah said through tears as she pushed aside some of Jeremiah's hair.

There was a bit of silence as we all were still processing what was happening. I didn't want to accept the fact that Susannah had cancer again. I just couldn't.

"If there's any chance that you can live you have to take it." Jeremiah pleaded. "Come on, Conrad. Tell her. Y/N?"

I just looked at Jeremiah and Conrad. I wanted to say something. I wanted to say everything.

"Why aren't you guys saying anything?" Jeremiah asked, his eyes red. "You have to try. You can't give up on us."

"Mom." Conrad's voice was hoarse and as he lifted his head up, the tears poured from his eyes. "Can't you just try? For us, Mom. I need you."

Susannah grabbed the boys as she hugged them tight. I didn't want Susannah to go

Our crying had subsided and Laurel began making food for us. Which meant this situation was horrible. Her cooking wasn't the best, especially for dinner. She had certain dishes she would make that tasted good though.

So here we all sat at the dinner table. Belly and I in more comfortable clothes because Susannah didn't want us to spill on our dresses, eating Chinese takeout, pizza, spaghetti noodles, and ice cream. It wasn't the ideal dinner, but it tasted good. We all bonded, as if nothing had ever been said.

Life has endless amounts of possibilities, but with whatever comes next, I know I can always return back to this place.

The waves rushed up against the shore, and it was a bright and colorful early morning. Conrad sat beside me, he was happy.

"I can't believe she said yes." He said happily.

"You did it. You changed her mind."

"It wasn't just me. It was Jere who did it as well." Conrad said.

I looked out at the waves as I felt his gaze still on me. I didn't want to turn around whatsoever.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so shitty all summer."

I turned to him, "No, I know it's weird, and you had been going through all of this. I just wished you know, that would you communicate half of these things with me."

"Believe me, I wanted to talk." He said.

There was tension between us as our gazes traveled.

"We should go in." I said, looking around at the sand beside us

"There's so many things I want to say to you."

I sighed getting up, "Don't do it."

"Why?" He asked as he got up as well.

"'Cause you need someone right now, Conrad. I don't know what I am going to do to help when you do need help. We haven't even talked about the other relationship. Conrad, it's just messy."

"I don't just need somebody." He stared down at me, "I need you. Y/N, when I was with you I was the happiest I could of possibly been. Everyone knows that."

"You shouldn't have to need me. That's what you did last time. You needed me to just fix you out of your hell hole. I want you to want me, Conrad. You have to want me like I want you or it doesn't fucking work."

"I do want you. I've only wanted you."

There was silence between us as we just stared at one another.

His arm moved slowly up to the side of my cheek before he pulled me in, kissing. It felt alive, not needed, not desperate. It felt natural.

We kissed again, with much more passion this time. Everything was falling into places. Everything was just how it had to be.

Everything happens for a reason. Whether it's failing a test, or it's a stupid break up. The butterfly effect makes it come back around. Anything can happen, anything and everything. Just if you let it.

Not everyone goes out of style.

A/N : hi! after i know like a month of not being active, here is the last chapter of the series! i made sure to finish it before s2. thank you so much for the support recently.

i'm also so sorry if this isn't as good as the other chapters 😭

Also!!! if you have any prompts or ideas, feel free to message me and i'll write as soon as i can! thanks!

[chrollohearttags]

praise kink country boy reiner 😋 it’s his favorite thing, I mean his little girlfriend is already crying from his monster of a cock, he cant have her crying because he called her a dumb slut

g’ahhhh! why y’all do this to meeeee? Y’all know I can’t resist this man and I get downright filthy when I write him!! But I got y’all, hold on.

cw: !blackfem reader, full Nelson, mirror play, pet names (poundcake/sugar) slut/bitch is used a couple times, squirting, praise kink, affirmations, daddy kink and dom reiner (with a country accent, I’m bout to c—), all porn no plot because this bout to be short

“Oooh, you nasty little bitch..coming on my dick so good like that..” it was all you could hear being grunted into your ear over the sounds of your own loud cries. Following the second orgasm you had let out for him. The first time? Making you squirt everywhere. Moaning out the man’s name who was inflicting that pleasure on you. “Reiiii..fuck.” Truth be told, he couldn’t help but to..being stuffed balls deep into your tight little cunt as he hoisted you in his arms, aimed your view towards the mirror in your bedroom and fucked up into you. Those beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust and his massive dick stretching you open. He could see those tears coming down the side of your face..swelling in your eyes and bulging in the bottom of your stomach; all in unison along with the loud smacking of your sweat and arousal slicked skin.. “Fuu—ahh! God, you feel so good..look how pretty you are giving me that pussy.” After all, he had to affirm his sweetheart with much kinder words after being so rough and aggressive earlier in the night. Putting you face down on the mattress with a hand to the back of your neck as he pounded you. Calling you all types of names. Or pinning your legs back and giving you deep strokes until you began shaking; letting out a stream all over his abs as a result. Now, slamming you up and down on his throbbing cock like nothing more than a tiny rag doll..practically weightless in his muscular arms, pressed against that six foot five frame of his as you faced your reflection.. “..you have no idea what you do to me…how I fit so fucking perfect. It’s like you don’t want me to pull out, yeah? Bet my little slut would like that..” Taunting with a soft chuckle before kissing your cheek.

he wasn’t trying to make you cry or cause you any pain but that warm, sweet little pussy just turns him feral. So much so, he forgets that you can be a little sensitive in more ways than one. He couldn’t help but to forget when his only focus was fucking his little slut dumb. “D’awww, sugar..don’t look like that. You’re doing so good for daddy…just keep taking this dick. Yeah..just like that, baby.” Talking you through it and making sure you were doted on the entire way. Meanwhile, his strokes sped up and he was hammering into you like he was trying to rearrange your entire reproductive system. Reaching down with a trembling hand, (y/n) rubbed gently at that aching clit before gasping for breath. “F-fuck. Thank you daddy..thank you!” Whimpering so helplessly as you felt that orgasm on its way out. Soon, you’d find yourselves on the brink of climax and Reiner didn't want to let up until he emptied every drop inside of you. When you begged him to fill you up, he needed your request right away and pulled you down on his cock; slowly rutting those hips for a moment before letting out a loud grunt and pouring his nut into you. You could see your facial expressions contorting and feel the throbbing knot in your womb. By the time he came back, Reiner was laughing and marking you up with more kisses. “Sorry about that, poundcake..didn't mean to be so rough witcha’..you just bring out a different side of me. But I’m proud of ya’..did s’ good f’r me.” And that was all you needed to hear and he was forgiven.

he wasn’t trying to make you cry or cause you any pain but that warm, sweet little pussy just turns him feral. So much so, he forgets that you can be a little sensitive in more ways than one. He couldn’t help but to forget when his only focus was fucking his little slut dumb. “D’awww, sugar..don’t look like that. You’re doing so good for daddy…just keep taking this dick. Yeah..just like that, baby.” Talking you through it and making sure you were doted on the entire way. Meanwhile, his strokes sped up and he was hammering into you like he was trying to rearrange your entire reproductive system. Reaching down with a trembling hand, (y/n) rubbed gently at that aching clit before gasping for breath. “F-fuck. Thank you daddy..thank you!” Whimpering so helplessly as you felt that orgasm on its way out. Soon, you’d find yourselves on the brink of climax and Reiner didn't want to let up until he emptied every drop inside of you. When you begged him to fill you up, he needed your request right away and pulled you down on his cock; slowly rutting those hips for a moment before letting out a loud grunt and pouring his nut into you. You could see your facial expressions contorting and feel the throbbing knot in your womb. By the time he came back, Reiner was laughing and marking you up with more kisses. “Sorry about that, poundcake..didn't mean to be so rough witcha’..you just bring out a different side of me. But I’m proud of ya’..did s’ good f’r me.” And that was all you needed to hear and he was forgiven.

[penny00dreadful]

Somebody To Love - Part 4

Hey so AO3 went down and that kinda sucked BUT it did allow me to get some writing done soooo... here you go!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

The two children Steve had sent to replace him were god damn menaces.

Well, maybe not children but they were still so goddamn young.

And they didn’t let him get away with anything. Standing over him with their arms crossed and twin looks of disapproval on their faces like the god-damn Men in Black of babysitters.

He wasn’t, like, under house arrest or anything. He was still able to get his fix whenever he wanted. He was still able to drink himself into oblivion, but they didn’t handle him with as much care as Steve had.

He had numerous opportunities to go out and get laid six ways from Sunday as well but… he wasn’t really feeling it.

Though he refused to pinpoint why.

“You know, this would have never happened if you’d just show me the list.” Eddie crossed his own arms, trying to put as much petulant haughtiness into his tone as he could muster, lying where he landed in the grass of his back garden with his pants around his ankles. At least his underwear had stayed on.

This time.

How did he get there?

Didn’t matter.

That tree was out to get him. Fuck that tree. That tree was no longer his number two favourite climbing tree. It had been bumped down to number eight to go along with the tree that dropped an apple on his head like he was Newton and the tree that had covered him in sticky sap that took forever to get off.

The woman, Max, who perpetually had her red hair in a long braid down her back, cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t ever remember telling him he couldn’t see the list." She said with an air of nonchalance, looking over at her co-babysitter. "Do you, Dustin?”

“You know, I think you’re right, Max." Dustin matched her tone. "I think Eddie just assumed he wasn’t allowed to see it and ran with it.”

“Hey, fuck you, man." Eddie pointed up at him. "You're supposed to be on my side. Nerds of a feather.”

"I'm on the side of the truth. Like any good scientist."

"You're a babysitter."

Dustin shrugged. "And I have hobbies."

Max rolled her eyes. “Pull your pants back up like a good little boy and I’ll show you the list.”

“I could fire you on the spot, Red, don’t test me.”

She bent low, placing her hands on her knees so she was looming menacingly over him.

“Do it." She grinned down at him. "I fucking dare you.”

Eddie scoffed. "Whatever." 

But he did still stand, bucking his pants back up.

Despite everything he was loath to admit he really liked those two. They didn't take any of his shit and they treated him like a human person rather than some mythical celebrity they had to bow and scrape to.

He held his hand out expectantly.

“Oh, we don’t have it on us.” Max said, her eyes glittering with malicious glee. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Fuck off 'it’s on the kitchen counter.'”

“No, it is.” Dustin nodded. “We put it there last week.”

“We’re keeping a running tally for how many times you’ve walked past it.”

“I think we’re up to fifteen now?”

Eddie did not stomp his foot. “That’s so not fair! You know I’m off my meds!”

“You’re off your meds because of the amount of recreational shit you imbibe. That’s on you." Dustin poked him in the chest. "Maybe if you were sober for five minutes you’d have noticed it.”

Eddie turned his back on them and started to make his way towards the house. They might have had a point as to why he was off his ADHD meds but Eddie was a stubborn fucker so he’d never admit it to them.

He snatched up the list that he genuinely only just noticed for the first time because it was pointed out to him and eagerly read through Steve’s recognisable handwriting.

It was a lot shorter than he thought it would be but also it kind of covered everything?

Make sure he keeps himself alive.

Don’t let him do stupid shit.

Don’t let him kill himself with:

Alcohol poisoning.

Drug overdose.

Some super fucked up STD.

Eating shellfish by accident again.

Chasing a balloon into traffic or whatever.

If you have to put him in a protective bubble, do it.

Max, if he gets mean, get meaner.

Dustin, if he tries to worm his way out of listening to you by claiming to be ‘cool’, remind him of the time he wore a plain black suit to the Met Gala-

“Okay!” Eddie shouted into the kitchen around him, slamming the list back down with a smack. “Low fucking blow, Steve!”

“I mean, it’s true isn’t it?” Max pointed out, pulling herself up to sit on the counter.

“Listen,” he ran a hand through his hair, keeping his volume high, “It was one time and it was my first Met, I was nervous, alright?! Plus! It wasn’t even a plain black suit, it was Chanel, hello??” He waved his hand around. “It had accessories??”

Dustin leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. “Steve wore yellow.”

“Yes, I know Steve wore yellow-”

“He wore a beautifully cut little yellow suit with a cape and he wasn’t even there as your plus one,” Max smirked, “he was there as your assistant and he was still better dressed than you.”

“Alright-”

“Rhianna complimented him. Said great minds think alike.”

“She was in nothing but a cape so-” Eddie threw his head back in offence. “Whatever, good luck keeping up with me, children. I’m gonna go find some prawns or some scallops and you two,” he pointed at each of them in turn, “can explain my big fat puffy face to Steve when he gets back in a few days.”

Neither of them were even remotely phased.

Eddie was practically rattling by the time Steve was due to fly back in from… wherever he’d been. Even though he probably wouldn’t see him immediately.

Like, the guy had his own home to go to, his own stuff to get reacquainted with.

His own platonic soulmate to reunite with.

So why would he call over? Steve had his own life. He had no... no obligation to come see Eddie immediately.

And that was fine.

Eddie would see him tomorrow, more than likely.

So it was no big deal.

It was fine.

It had been nearly a month since they’d spoken. It was the longest stretch of time they’d gone apart in… Jesus nearly ten years?

And Eddie had handled it fine. 

He had been so normal about it.

It wasn’t like he’d been missing a limb.

It wasn’t like half his heart had been ripped out and shipped off on a plane to wherever.

Wasn't like he'd been thinking about Steve every day, every night, every spare fucking moment he had.

Why would he?

He was... it was all... everything was fine.

He was sitting in his basement studio, plucking a stream of consciousness on his guitar that sometimes crystallised into something coherent and sometimes was something that was stuck in his head.

He looked like a ratty mess, the same worn out pyjama pants and band tees that had been with him ever since he lived in a trailer park in rural Indiana.

They were comfort clothes more than anything at this stage.

His hair… he couldn’t be dealing with his hair right now, it seemed to be out to irritate him on that particular day. Every time a strand brushed against his neck or his cheek it made him want to crawl out of his skin. He’d yanked it violently up onto the top of his head, but each repeated, frustrated shoving of a stray strand back into the bun just caused more to fall out.

He was trying desperately to distract himself but his blood was itching for… something.

He hadn’t had a good fix in a while, he wanted to be sober and clear headed for when he saw Steve again but the heightened anxiety really wasn’t helping the situation. He didn’t usually get so twitchy when he was sober, but then again, he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d been actively trying to stay away from everything. 

And maybe that shocked him a little more than it should.

Maybe it scared him just the right amount.

But it could easily be a losing battle because there were hidden nooks and crannies everywhere in his house holding some kind of mind altering substance in them. Even on the couch in his studio he could probably reach down in between the cushions and pull out a baggy of pills he'd forgotten down there at some point. He didn’t even know what half the pills he found dotted around were anymore, they could be sugar for all he knew but they were there and they wouldn’t stop whispering to him.

He wasn’t even conscious of what he was playing. It was only when he realised he was muttering lyrics to himself that he figured out what was living in his brain and automatically spilling out around him.

Somebody (Somebody) Ooh, somebody (Somebody) Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Eddie softly snorted to himself, a little self deprecatingly. Oh, the irony, he thought, especially considering-

“That’s my favourite.”

Eddie whipped around to see Steve fucking Harrington leaning against the door of his studio.

He looked, well, there was no word for it other than glowing. His skin was darker, his hair a touch lighter, the dusting of freckles over his nose had exploded in volume and pigmentation and he looked good. He looked so good. 

More than that, it was like he’d brought the sunlight back with him because he’d clearly been somewhere sunny, maybe on a tropical beach somewhere. Somewhere that suited him as a person.

It was like the smell of the ocean entered the room with him.

“Stevie!” Eddie shot up from the couch, discarding his guitar a little carelessly before all but throwing himself at him, arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging on for dear life. “You’re back! You’re here!”

Steve stiffened up momentarily, unusually, before relaxing into it, holding him tight. “I’m here.” He muttered softly into Eddie’s neck.

“Tell me everything sweetheart, how was it? Where did you go? What was it like not to have to run around after an overgrown toddler such as myself-?” Eddie pulled away with a smile, back on solid ground but his grin faltered when he noticed Steve’s own smile had an almost sad tilt to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He shrugged off Eddie’s concern. “Went to Hawaii. It was a good time, I’d recommend it to you but I don’t know how well your skin would be able to take that much sun.” He laughed. It was almost performative. He wouldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes anymore. “Met some people. Had some fun. You know, vacation stuff. How were Dustin and Max, could they keep up with you?”

Eddie swallowed and tried not to let the cold wash of emotion completely pull him under. “You- you met some people, huh?” He was going for light. He really was going for light, but it came out just a touch too shaky to really pull it off.

“Yeah.”

“What kind of people?”

“I dunno, people. You know, vacation people.”

Eddie nodded and tried to shove everything, everything he was feeling far, far away. He had no right to feel so heartbroken, he didn’t.

Steve was… he deserved to let loose.

And if that meant meeting some people while away on vacation, that was none of Eddie’s god-damn business. After all, it was nothing compared to what he’d been doing to Steve for years.

“Right.”

Steve frowned at him. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“That face.” He circled his finger around Eddie’s head. “You look like I just killed your dog.”

Eddie shook his head. “Did you find what you were looking for? Out there?”

There was a pause.

“I thought I did.” Steve crossed his arms. “I thought I had… escaped it, I suppose? But,” he sighed, “I think I know now it’s going to be with me forever.”

He looked up again, fixing Eddie with that same sad smile, like Eddie couldn’t see right through him, like he couldn’t tell. But how long had Steve been looking at him like that and how many times had Eddie not seen it?

Steve had thought he'd escaped him.

Or escaped his soul-crushing and unrequited love.

But was it even unrequited?

Last month Eddie would have been sure the answer was an unfortunate yes, it was unrequited.

But now he wasn't so sure.

The last month without Steve had been torture.

Steve had left on vacation to escape Eddie's effect on him, had met up with vacation people and thought it had worked...

Then he came back and...

Eddie needed to sit down.

He dropped himself heavily back down on the couch and put his head in his hands.

“Sounds like some kind of tragic love story.” He muttered into the space between them.

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was soft. “I think it is.”

Eddie looked up at him, heart breaking in two just from how resigned to his fate Steve sounded and Eddie could feel it. He could feel it, like he knew, like he felt the same, like he’d been… for all this time…

“What were you escaping?” He asked, his voice smaller than he was used to hearing it. It was a dick question, it was a hard question to even get out but he had to know.

He had to be sure.

Because if he was sure then maybe…

Steve looked at him with his big sad eyes and his resigned posture and defeat written all over his figure. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Stevie-”

“No. Please, Eddie. I… I can’t.”

“Why?” He pushed the word out into the air like it had personally offended him. “Why can’t you just talk to me about this? Why can’t you tell me? We tell each other everything. You’ve never hidden anything from me.”

Steve laughed, some cold, sad, biting thing. “Eddie, I've been hiding this thing from you for years.”

“But, please, Stevie, I need to know. I need you to tell me. Because, I don’t know. Maybe-” Eddie reached out, trying to grasp at Steve’s hand but Steve pulled back violently.

Like Eddie could burn him with just a touch.

“Don’t. Just- I can’t tell you, you know why I can’t tell you!”

“No, I don’t!” And Eddie really didn’t. Why was this so hard, why was it so hard for him to just… admit it?

“Because!” Steve stood in front of him, sudden and frantic, like a man who’d been clinging onto his last threat of patience and sanity and had just lost his grip, hands in his hair and staring at Eddie with wide glistening, pleading eyes. “Because I’d have to leave! I couldn’t stay if I did tell you! It would- it would be unethical and unprofessional-”

“Stevie, you know you’re more to me than an employee.”

“Yes, I do, but…” Steve deflated all at once, the very soul inside him crumpling under the weight of everything. “But what would happen if I did tell you?” He whispered, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “We’d try to continue on as normal but now there’s this thing hanging over every interaction we have from now until forever and you’ll start to get uncomfortable and it’ll be a thing. And you’ll never be able to look at me as just a friend anymore and I’ll get so distracted I won’t be able to do my job and I’ll have to go, for both our sakes and that would kill me, Eddie. I need you in my life like I need fucking air, as fucked up and infuriating as you are, I need you in my life.”

“But,” Eddie was making a valiant effort to will away the lump in his own throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so unsure about something, like every word had the power to destroy if he picked the wrong one. Like everything around them was ready to shatter like a Prince Rupert’s drop if touched the wrong way. “What if that doesn’t happen? What if… what if we gave it a go…?”

Steve somehow slumped even more, dragging his hands down from his hair to cover his face, another laugh breaking out of his lungs that was clearly mingled up with a sob. “That would be even worse.” He murmured. 

“How could that possibly be worse?! Would it really be so bad to be in a relationship with me?”

“Yes, Eddie!” Steve hissed, glaring at him with red, shiny eyes. “Yes, it would! Because I know you. You don’t do relationships. Any ones you have had you’ve imploded before they go anywhere past semi-serious and I cannot do that. I cannot be given a taste and then just have to go the rest of my life without it because you got bored or self-destructive or realised it wasn’t what you wanted, that I-”

Steve abruptly cut himself off and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes again. “I can’t do it, Eddie. If I just became another notch… I don’t think I’d ever recover. It would destroy me.”

Eddie put his own head in his hands again, ignoring the jerking movements of his bouncing knee. The worst part was that he couldn’t disagree with what Steve had said about his attitude with people, about how he treated those he was with. 

He couldn’t even be angry or defensive about it because it was true. It was so true the both of them knew it was plainly factual, there was no point arguing.

Anyone he’d ever had a relationship with before, he’d either dropped once the shine had worn off, or shoved away using cutting words or sunk himself so deep into drugs and alcohol it was a miracle Steve had ever been able to drag him out.

Because it was always Steve dragging him out. It was always Steve listening to him bitch and moan about how love was for fantasists, no one was ever happy in relationships, having to cut themselves down by half to accommodate someone else, how he’d never catch himself in that trap for as long as he lived, how he’d swear off ever chaining himself down to bullshit monogamy again.

Until the next pretty face or bouncy ass walked by.

Of course Steve would think that about him. Eddie thought that about himself. Believed it about himself until very, very recently, when even the thought of Steve leaving his life forever sent a cold spike of dread and desperation through him.

“Okay,” Eddie rubbed his face. “But, what if… How do I- what if I prove it to you?”

Steve inhaled deeply then exhaled harshly toward the floor and dragged his hands away from his eyes. His face was blotchy and wet and miserable, his eyes were raw red and resigned. 

“Prove what?”

“That I…” Eddie dragged a hand through his hair, gripping on tight. “That I want to be serious about this. That I- if I get a chance, if you give me a chance to have you, that I’m going to keep you. Forever.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eds.”

“I’ll keep it.” Eddie raised his head, meeting Steve’s eyes again and trying to will his sincerity across the room. “I’ll always keep it with you. If you love me like I suspect you do, I’m gonna work every god-damned day to keep that promise. Because I think I’ve been in love with you for just as long-”

“Please,” Steve’s voice cracked, harsh and painful sounding, “don’t say that if you don’t mean it-”

“I mean it.” He clasped his hands in front of him, almost begging Steve to hear him. To understand just how serious he was. “I swear on everything I hold dear, I mean it. I swear on my guitar I mean it.”

Steve looked so… he looked so hurt. Like everything he’d been hiding from himself, everything he’d been hiding from Eddie for so long, for years was all coursing through him at full force.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and considered him.

“I’ll think about it.” His voice was quiet, but it wasn’t so despairing as it had been.

Eddie stood. He wanted to get closer, he wanted to wrap Steve up in his arms and never let go, he wanted to make it better but he didn’t dare move any closer.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I think right now I just need a little time. And space. Again. I might have to extend my vacation just for a few more days. To get my head on straight.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie exhaled, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Whatever you need, baby.”

A wounded, painful sound was pulled from Steve’s throat against his will and Eddie flinched backward.

“Jesus, shit. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Steve just shook his head, not meeting his eyes anymore. 

“Dustin and Max will be back tomorrow morning.” Steve didn’t raise his eyes again, keeping them firmly on the ground as he picked up his bag.

Eddie could only whisper out a small ‘okay’. He felt like if he said or did anything else, Steve might shatter into a million tiny pieces and he couldn’t- he wouldn’t let that happen.

The same way it had happened a month ago, Eddie watched Steve leave the room, staring at the door long after he’d gone.

But even though it was the same this time, it was also different.

Because now he had a terrible hope building in his chest.

Now he had work to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

It was Chanel, hello?? It had accessories??

An idea of Steve's yellow suit

And, of course, Rhianna's iconic cape

This is the video I watched to visualise Eddie playing away in his basement studio. Watch it and let your mind wander 🤭 (specifically 1:23 is the part Eddie is playing in the fic)

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers, slooow burn, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader, eventual smut, talk of teenage!trauma (men are men and teenage girls are teenage girls) - nothing graphic, but, you know, a trigger warning feels right

Author’s note: new territory! fresh waters! my first ever part 6! wahhh!

Wordcount: 4.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Sudden loud voices, followed by the slam of a closing front door shocked you awake. Not enough for you to actually open your eyes, but enough to propel you back into consciousness where you learnt that, oh, whoops, you'd fallen asleep.

The voices that came from the hallway were quickly shushed by Mark, who moved up from the sofa and you felt his legs disappear from underneath your feet.

“What’s – oh, she’s asleep,”

Your shoulder ached from lying on it weird.

The talking turned into whispers and was followed by footsteps that moved into the kitchen. When you looked with a squinty eye, you saw the TV was still on, but had been muted.

You'd had dinner over at Mark's, and Poppy had gone out with Joe. That was always the way it was; you and Mark were people who stayed in wearing comfy outfits, had simple meals and enjoyed shitty TV together. Poppy and Joe would go out in shiny outfits to shiny restaurants where they had shiny meals, you were sure.

No drinks after, though. Not tonight. Tomorrow she had her appointment at a wedding boutique, and you'd been invited to come along as well. You and Poppy were friends, after all, and she valued your opinion when it came to wedding dresses over Joe's anyway.

It was dark out, and you tried remembering if it had already been dark before you'd drifted off as you stretched your arms up over your head.

You were so toasty warm underneath the throw blanket, you groaned at the prospect of having to put your shoes back on and go outside for the trek home.

A sudden noise jump-scared you, and you were quick to pull in both arms close to your chest as your head snapped to where it came from.

Joe was stood in the doorway.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you,"

"Oh my God," you spoke on an exhale, rubbed your face with both hands, and mentally cursed Joe for shocking you awake like he had.

Had he been stood there the whole time?

"Good morning?" you could hear him suppress a laugh, making fun of you as you sat up. Hair everywhere, sleep in your eyes and muscles all achy.

"It's night time," you corrected him dryly, not in the mood to play.

"Correction, it's not even 9, the evening's barely started."

Oh.

It felt like it was past midnight. But you shrugged, because it didn't really matter, and reached for one of your shoes that you pulled out from underneath the coffee table.

"Won't you... won't you have trouble getting to sleep later? Now that you've slept already?"

You frowned. Why was Joe trying to have a chat with you? Could he not go join Mark and Poppy in the kitchen and let you come back into your own body in some peace and quiet?

"I'll be fine," you pushed a foot into your second shoe. "I love a good nap."

A silence fell, and when you'd tied your shoe laces, you slapped your knees and took a deep breath. You looked at Joe who was still awkwardly hovering in the doorway, feet on the threshold, and you looked at him as if to ask, what do you want?

"Um, we... we came up with an idea," Joe started, scratching the back of his head.

"Small change of plans. We're turning the bridal shower into a wedding shower,"

You were glad that this was wedding-related, because it immediately normalised the conversation Joe was trying to have with you. You took a second to think it over, and then smiled an impressed smile at Joe.

"Well done," you nodded at him with your eyebrows raised. "Isn't that just a regular party, then?"

"Yea," Joe shrugged a little bashfully. "Pre-wedding party, everyone's invited, not just Poppy's guests,"

And no playing stupid bridal shower games, or stupid bridal shower activities... you were onto Joe. It was very clear that this was a way to minimize his workload and instead, just... drink.

Honestly, you didn't mind it.

"We thought it'd be nicer that way. Get everyone excited for the wedding,"

"No, yea... you're right. It probably will be nicer to have a normal party instead of playing the newly wed game, or some wild form of mad lips with their vows, or whatever,"

"Loo roll bride," Joe added.

"We could still do that, park Pop in the middle of the dance floor and dance around to wrap her up," you quipped, and got a huffed laugh out of Joe.

It was almost normal, until Joe's head turned and Mark's voice got into earshot. Joe immediately tensed up, you could see it in his shoulders, and you didn't understand why it offended you the way it did.

"Brilliant idea! We've managed to find a date that works for us," Mark said, revealing what they'd been up to, and it prompted Joe to step away to go and find Poppy.

Mark looked at you and turned on the ceiling light, washing the room in bright white. It made you flinch a little.

"Hey, twitchy-feet, you slept for nearly two hours,"

"I feel very well rested," you said, grinning at the nickname and getting up from the sofa.

"Kicked me several times,"

"You can take it,"

Finding your coat over the back of a chair, you slung it 'round and stuck one arm in after the other.

"You ready for tomorrow?" you called out loudly, and waited for a response from the kitchen.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Poppy called back.

"I was born ready," you grinned.

"No, you weren't," Mark said softly so only you could hear. "You were born five weeks premature, you–" you punched him in the arm as you stepped past him into the hallway.

"I'm so ready, I'll bring all of my opinions," you joked when you saw Poppy walk over, followed closely behind by Joe.

"Good, I'm going to need them."

"I'll bring mine too," Joe said, but earned an immediate scoff from his friend.

"No, leave those at home, you're just there for moral support. You need to tell me I look pretty in everything, and then I'll let the women be honest with me," Poppy said and you saw how they made eye-contact for a second.

It was wild how they looked in love when they locked eyes like that.

You snuck a quick glance at Mark to see if he noticed anything, but he had his phone out and you saw he had his agenda open, busy putting in when the wedding shower would be.

"I'm heading out," you broke their stare and all eyes turned to you.

"Me too," Joe said, and that immediately shot panic into your veins. You didn't need Joe walking you home again.

"Actually," Mark said, "I could use your help with something," And with a hand on his shoulder, Mark turned Joe back towards the kitchen.

"Bye," you called, and Mark waved a hand over his shoulder without looking back.

You didn't know if your face had given you away, if you'd been obvious about it, or if Mark had just sensed it within you, but you were grateful. Grateful you got to slip out of the house by yourself, void of any awkward embarrassing interaction with Joe. Just a small tiny wave for Poppy that got a bright smile of hers in return, and the door shut behind you.

Nice.

You could save all the tension for the next day. You just hoped it wouldn't get too weird. Tomorrow was going to be all about Poppy, anyhow. There wasn't going to be any room for Joe to be distant and weird with you.

At least, that's what you thought.

The next day, you all met up outside the boutique. Poppy, her mother, her auntie who doubled up as her godmother, and her daughter, Poppy's favourite cousin. And Joe. Of course, Joe was there too.

The six of you were sat down on one large sofa, everything pristine white, very clean, and obviously very expensive. You didn't sit next to Joe, even though out of everyone in Poppy's entourage you knew him best. It just, it was a little weird. In this group, you had known Poppy the shortest, and were only her friend by association. Originally, anyway.

After introductions to the bridal consultant of who you all were to Poppy, Poppy got whisked off fairly quickly to have a look at some dresses and to immediately try the first one on.

Waiting whilst she got dressed took ages.

Poppy's aunt and cousin took the time to look at dresses in the storefront, to see if they could find ones they thought would look good on Poppy. Joe buried himself in his phone, which was interesting, because you knew he wasn't on social media, so what the fuck was he even doing? Playing games?

It left you and Poppy's mum to talk.

"I've always wondered," she said, kind eyes all crinkled as she smiled at you.

"Of course we know Joe," she turned and curled a hand around his wrist. Joe smiled at her for a second, far more comfortable around her than you were. Which, yea, made sense. She might as well have been his mother.

"And we know Mark, but we don't really know you, do we? I've never heard how you and Mark became such close friends,"

Oh God.

This definitely felt like a protective mother making sure her daughter wasn't going to marry an unreliable man. One who didn't secretly have a girl on the side. One that didn't hide his mistress in plain sight.

You kind of understood, though. This all came from a good place, even if you could see that the smile you got from her was now very obviously a fake one. Or, perhaps not fake, but definitely wary.

Then you saw Joe put his phone down and direct his attention to you as well. A strange grin took over his face.

He scooted his hips forward a little, getting more comfortable as his legs spread wider. He was ready to listen to a story.

"Oh, well," you waved a hand, making it seem like you and Mark were surface level mates. "Nothing crazy, we just met at school and became fast friends."

It wasn't a direct lie. Not really.

It just wasn't an answer to the question she asked.

Joe narrowed his eyes at you and then frowned a little.

"You and Poppy met at school, didn't you?" Poppy's mum turned back to Joe, who immediately smiled at her and nodded. "Year 4," Joe added, and it was wild to see how fond she was of him.

Poster boy Joseph.

Probably the perfect son-in-law in her eyes. You wondered how much she despised that Joe wasn't the one marrying her daughter. How much she wanted Joe to be a true part of her family.

Instead she'd gotten Mark. And Mark came with an attachment.

You.

"Mark and I met when I was 14, and, you know him," you said, unsure if she actually did. "One big, kind softie."

The two of you laughed. Bonded over the fact that Mark was hardly soft - he could easily intimidate with just a simple look. He could be soft, sure. But he didn't look it.

Not the way that Joe looked soft, you thought.

The bridal consultant walked out and called everyone back to the sofa. Poppy was about to walk out in the first wedding dress she'd ever put on her body.

This was a big moment.

With everyone in position, Poppy got introduced all officially, and then she stepped out, dressed in an awful looking huge pile of tule that engulfed all of her. Absolutely ate her alive. She looked excited, but very self-conscious.

Her mother clapped in her hands excitedly and was already close to tears.

You looked at Joe who, Jesus Christ, looked absolutely smitten.

What was fucking wrong with him?

Poppy's aunt and cousin had huge big smiles on their faces and, oh my God, were you going to be the only one to tell her that you didn't like the dress on her at all?

Poppy got placed in front of a mirror and took a good look before she turned to face all of you.

"And?" Poppy questioned, eyes hopeful but terrified.

Her mother burst into tears.

Oh shit.

Joe immediately handed over a tissue from a box next to him.

"You look gorgeous," he said as he comforted Poppy's mum.

And she did look gorgeous. That wasn't the issue here.

Poppy got praised left right and centre, and you paid close attention to her face. For a moment you thought you weren't going to be able to give your honest opinion, because you saw her bloom, thriving on the kind words she was receiving from everyone.

However, when the consultant asked Poppy what she thought of it herself, Poppy turned back to look at herself in the mirror and hesitated.

Thank fuck.

Poppy made eye-contact with you in the mirror and gave you a questioning look.

"Pop, you look fantastic in white. Most beautiful bride. I'm being honest. Your skin looks like it's glowing, it's gorgeous... but, babe," you bit your lips into your mouth for a second, and considered the reaction you were going to get from the rest of the sofa.

"This dress looks awful,"

You saw heads snap towards you from your peripheral vision. You kept your eyes trained on Pop. Kind eyes. Real sympathetic ones.

The air was tense and you all waited for Poppy's reaction.

"I know," Poppy replied before she burst into laughter.

You could practically feel the whole sofa relax.

"It's not really your style, is it?" Poppy's cousin added.

"Far too cupcakey," Poppy said and scrunched up her nose as she picked at some tule and faffed with it to show what she meant.

"All right, less cupcakey, got it," the bridal consultant smiled.

The tone had been set. Good. You were glad. If everyone was just going to tell Poppy she looked great in every single dress, this whole appointment would be useless.

There was some more back and forth, people mentioning what they did like about the dress she was in, people adding how maybe this or that change would make it be more Poppy, and when Poppy disappeared into the dressing room to try on another dress, her mother reached a hand that grabbed onto your knee for a second.

"Thank you," this time you could see that her smile was sincere. "She deserves good friends like you."

You looked at Joe and couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. You were getting praised for being a good mate when Poppy's literal platonic soulmate was sat on the other side of her.

Joe eyes darted and only landed on you for a second.

Big cringe.

"Poppy deserves the world," you agreed. "And a beautiful dress," the cousin added, to which you all hummed and nodded. She really did.

Poppy tried on a few more dresses before she stepped out and was already in tears herself.

This was it.

It was the one.

Poppy knew it was the one, she could feel it in her bones and it radiated off of her.

She looked stunning.

Like, seriously stunning.

Mark was really fucking lucky.

It only took one look for her mother to start crying again, and before long, it was just you, Joe and the consultant with dry faces. Everyone else had tears streaming down.

"That's it," you said, and Poppy nodded with a shaky inhale and a wobbly smile. "That's the dress."

Her mother absolutely broke down then, and stood up to hug the girl in the beautiful white gown. It got quickly followed by her aunt who was trying her hardest not to let her mascara run, and Joe was just handing out tissues all 'round like his life depended on it.

He passed you one, which you took, but then held up questioningly.

"You're supposed to cry," Joe spoke out of the side of his mouth, his face in a faux panic over the fact that you weren't. He waved a hand in a small circle that was meant to say, hurry up with those tears, and it made you roll your eyes at him.

You stuck the tissue into your pocket and looked at the ladies stood by the mirrors.

This felt like a moment.

One you weren't part of. You weren't family, and you got the strong sense you were intruding.

The bridal consultant stepped back past the curtains that lead to the dressing room, and you thought she must have been thinking the same thing.

When Poppy's mother started talking about Poppy's birth, reminiscing about her sweet little baby girl, you knew you were right. Time to give them some space. You got up, excused yourself to Poppy's cousin who seemed to be drowning in self-pity over being single more than anything else, and escaped into the front of the store.

For a second you thought you could just busy yourself, looking through dresses, or whatever, but when you saw the door, some fresh air sounded divine.

It was nice out. Sunny. Slight breeze. Not very warm yet, but, the sun on your skin was bright enough to warm it.

You checked the time, and upon seeing how much time had already passed, you realised you were actually quite hungry. How bad would it be if you darted off get your hands on some food?

You didn't get to think about it long.

The door to the wedding boutique opened, and Joe stepped out.

Thinking that he'd been sent out to come and get you, you were about to tell him that you were just getting some fresh air and would be back inside in a minute. But then, Joe revealed a packet of cigarettes from a pocket and you realised he was joining you out on the pavement.

"Got a bit too emosh in there?" you asked.

Joe nodded as he took his first drag. A good, long one. He seemed insanely uncomfortable.

"I know it's a whole thing," Joe waved his hand around and made a stupid face. "But, fuck me, over five thousand pounds for a dress?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

Of course the dress Poppy was going to get was over five thousand pounds. Of fucking course.

Joe shook his head, and even though you agreed, you thought you had a little case of a pot calling a kettle black on your hands here. Joe looked like he was wearing designer pieces exclusively. He probably had gotten a lot of it for free, but retail value would easily be a couple thousand.

So, you wanted to defend Poppy a little.

"If she loves it, she loves it," you shrugged.

"Yea, no, of course,"

"And she looks great,"

"She does."

Joe was quick to just go along with you. Didn't want to ruffle any feathers. He was but a man, one who didn't really get it, but the ladies inside were really going through something together, and when Joe saw you sneak away, he'd followed your lead and had done the same.

"Poppy's got nice family,"

You'd only briefly seen her mother once, but had never actually spoken to her before. Her aunt and cousin were completely strangers to you, but they honestly did seem lovely.

"She does," Joe said, and he let another silence follow as he looked down the street, away from you.

Jeez, Joe. Come on, put some effort in.

"Though her mother definitely doesn't trust me," you couldn't help the slight chuckle at yourself.

Joe's eyes found yours, and he huffed a laugh as he exhaled thick white smoke that immediately blew upwards.

"Nah," he started, "She's all right,"

You looked down at your feet a moment.

"It didn't help that you pretended you barely even know Mark at all," Joe reminded you, and you looked up at him, about to share that she did say that Poppy deserved friends like you, but something about the way Joe was looking at you made the words linger in your lungs.

"What was that about?"

In all the years that you and Joe had avoided conversations like these, suddenly, it felt like the most natural thing between you.

To be talking about your friends like this.

You wondered what changed.

"I... I could tell you, but, I need to warn you. I might cry."

Joe didn't say anything. Just smoked.

"Is being in the vicinity of four crying women not enough?"

It was meant as a joke, but you knew that even just thinking about the start of your friendship with Mark could make your throat hurt.

"No? Need one more?"

You hid your smile badly, but you poked Joe right where it hurt. Joe thought he'd said something wrong and immediately backed off. You thought he either didn't get social cues, just in general, or that maybe you'd been right before, and Joe really didn't actually like you. He'd just tried to be nice for Poppy's sake.

You couldn't even be mad. That just made him a good friend. It just sucked that you had to bear the brunt of it.

But you were kind, remember? So after a short moment of silence, you decided to just tell him anyway.

"When I was 14, my, um... experience, with boys, and honestly, too many adult men, was very..."

You forgot that having to tell him meant you had to say the actual words. Verbalise them. Speak them into the air, just... outside, where you were stood on the pavement, for strangers to hear. For Joe to hear.

"How can I put this without it sounding too dramatic... basically, any time a boy was friendly to me, and I thought I'd made a friend, it was... it was never just friendly. There was always a point where suddenly, they wanted to put their sweaty little teenage hands in... places,"

Oh God, you couldn't look Joe in the eye for this.

"And I don't know, it just... if every time you think you've made a friend you end up finding out that they aren't actually a friend, it um... fucked me up, a little bit,"

You were going to brush over the adult men you mentioned.

"Not to mention the way that you'd then get treated after when you'd kindly say, no thanks, I'd like us to remain friends, please,"

You recalled the way they'd speak to you. Would look at you. Like you'd personally done them a great disservice. Like not letting them touch your tits was the most vile thing you could've ever done to them.

"Adult men?"

Fuck.

Joe's voice couldn't sound smaller if he'd tried.

"Yea, you know... just," you shrugged. Eyes down. This was just what things were like. "Teachers who would squeeze your shoulder for a second too long when they'd reassure you that you really were a beautiful young girl, or, my dad's coworkers that would comment on them being disappointed I wouldn't be in my schooluniform if they'd visit on the weekends,"

"Fucking hell,"

"It's whatever," you kick stomped a foot into the pavement. "It's not like I was molested or anything,"

Joe didn't say anything.

"But so, I'd turned down one of Mark's classmates who couldn't really deal with that and tried to spread rumours, you know, just... teenage boy behaviour, no offence,"

Joe thought back to his own teenage years. Of classmates calling girls lesbians because they avoided kissing them at a park gathering over the weekend. Or them calling girls slags for the exact same reason.

"Mark just... Mark decided to become my friend, and then, actually became my friend. It took me ages to trust that he wouldn't one day try to roll onto me to make out. I just... I kept waiting for him to make a move and the longer it took, the more I knew the world would burn when he eventually would–"

"Pocket," Joe suddenly said.

"Huh?"

"You've got... the tissue I gave you, you put it in your pocket,"

Oh shit. You were crying. A stupid laugh escaped you and you were quick to find the crumpled up piece of tissue.

"I'm all right, honestly," you said, unable to not laugh at yourself. "It's just... it's dumb how much it meant for me to find a friend who wasn't romantically interested in the slightest,"

"I don't think that's dumb,"

Joe looked at you with impossibly big, rounded eyes. All full of things like... empathy, and softness. Zero judgment.

"Well. It is." You concluded. Last thing you needed was for Joe to feel sorry for you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that being betrayed and backstabbed a lot as a young girl means that– like, obviously that does– that's not, it's not dumb,"

Joe was going to have to stop talking if he didn't want you to break down right in front of him.

"It's– I think it's profoundly human that those type of things have an impact. Things like that leave marks, don't they?"

The sob that wretched itself from you was the worst thing your body had ever done to you in public. In front of Joe, no less.

It made you duck into yourself, and Joe's arms were around you in an instant. You imagined that Joe hugging you would be arms barely there. Body held back. Just, soft pats on a shoulder blade for just a second.

But it was none of that.

Joe's arms held a lot of strength. Squeezed your ribs tightly. Compressed you. A large palm covered the entire back of your head as he pressed it into the space below his chin.

It somehow eased everything immediately.

Joe smelled nice.

Was warm.

"It's not dumb," Joe started, his voice all soft and velvety. "You're–" but then a loud knock on glass interrupted him and made the two of you turn your heads to see Poppy stood in front of the window. Crying.

The two of you looked at each other, and Poppy's face only scrunched up more at the sight of you.

"Look at her," you said to Joe as he let you go and you didn't even wait for him to finish was he was about to say to you. You rushed inside where Poppy and you fell into a massive hug.

"Are you all right?" she hiccuped through a whisper.

"I am," you smiled over her shoulder. "You just look so very beautiful, it's hard to bear,"

You got a wet laugh out of her before you pulled back.

"This is what you're going to be wearing, right?"

"This is the one," Poppy beamed, and the urge to hug her close overtook again.

By now Joe had made it inside, and you could see him look at the two of you from the side.

"Your wedding is going to be so gorgeous, you have no idea. I can't fucking wait," you said, and Poppy's grip around your neck tightened in excitement.

"It'll be the best day," you continued. "The weather will be lovely, and everyone you love is going to be there to witness you and Mark, saying yes to each other. It'll be beautiful, everyone will be so happy. Good vibes only."

"Don't," Poppy sniffled. "Please don't lose the rings,"

You immediately dropped your shoulders, and a few steps away, Joe let out a loud belly laugh.

You were quick to flip him off behind Poppy's back before pulling back out of Poppy's embrace. Your middle finger aimed at him only made Joe laugh louder.

"Of course I won't," you smiled sweetly at her.

"Trust me. I won't."

—

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s  @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

---

Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

[thecuriousquest]

You Know You Love it Part Five

Yandere!Bully KiriBaku x Reader

Warnings: Sex, bullying, sadism, masochism, nudity

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Six

Checkout my Master List here.

————————————————————————

Trips to the electronic store in the mall are always your favorite. You take pleasure in looking for new gadgets, seeing what the latest products are. You roam around for quite some time, holding a few items, not exactly sure what it is you want to buy yet.

Curiosity isn’t in your favor, however. You bump into a hard chest. Turning around to apologize, you look up at Katsuki. Images of being pumped by him and Kirishima simultaneously run through your mind.

Blushing like a rose, you stutter a weak apology. “S-sorry…”

His grin shows just how much his day got better by seeing you all weak and pathetic. He pulls on your chunky braid. “Little Mouse, what are you doin’ here all by yourself?”

Your fingers fumble to swat his hand away from your hair. “Let go. I’m just checking out the new products they have out. Was gonna buy something.” You feel like everything you’re saying just sounds incredibly dumb, and you can’t help but cringe inwardly. “What are you doing here?”

“Kirishima broke his phone, so he’s here to get a new one. I just wanted to get off campus.” He looks around for his best friend. “Hey, Kirishima! Look at what I found,” he calls the redhead over.

“Did you find one that’s cool looking?” he asks, thinking Bakugou is talking about a phone. His eyes land on you, and a devious smirk forms on his lips. “What’s our little nerd doing here? You’re not stalking us, are you?” He teases as he pinches your ear and gives it a quick tug.

“What? No! I’ve been here for about an hour now. I didn’t even know you two were going to be here. Would you guys quit touching me like that?” Your spirit heightens in brave defiance, but you secretly hope they’ll shut it down.

They don’t leave you hoping for long.

Kirishima puts a hand on one of your shoulders and pins you against a wall. He looks you dead in the eyes. “Trying to tell me what to do? Such a brat. If you have any plans for the rest of today, they just changed. You’re coming with us, so buy your shit and stay close to Bakugou while I finish looking for a phone.”

Pouting and crossing your arms earns you nothing but another tug on your ear from Kirishima. Squirming under his sharp grip, you nod in understanding. “I’ll do it. I’ll stay close.”

It’s not like you had any plans anyway. Whatever superhero movie you wanted to watch could wait.

Katsuki drapes an arm over your shoulder and keeps you by his side for the next twenty minutes. After shopping in the electronics store, they force you to go to a place you never dreamed of stepping foot in. A lingerie store.

You always buy your bras, panties, and socks online to avoid this exact thing. You shake your head as they both drag you inside by your wrists.

“Quit dragging your feet, slut,” Katsuki warns, daring you to keep it up.

God, it feels so good to be defiant sometimes. Hearing the degrading name, your panties start to become wet.

You still insist on being a little shit and go semi-willingly into the store with them.

An employee approaches you and your two tormentors. “How may I assist you today?” She has a kind smile on her face.

“She needs to get measured,” Kirishima says, really wanting to know what your accurate bra size is.

“She also needs some new panties and bras.”

The employee nods in understanding. “I’ll get a room started for you right away.”

Bakugou and Kirishima push you towards the woman as she heads to the back. You glare at them over your shoulder as you walk with her. They trail behind you with shit eating grins on their faces.

Despite trying to explain that you don’t want the boys outside your room to know what measurements you have, she simply waves you off and tells them anyways, thinking they’re the ones with the money and assuming correctly.

“She’s a (your bra size). Now, let’s get a collection started, shall we?”

———

You just want to eat and go home. However, you can’t help but like the attention they’re giving you. Jeans on, top off, new bra hooked, you have to show them each one you try. It makes you feel…good. Special in a way.

You’ve never really felt you were the sexy type with your glasses and struggling sometimes with just remembering to wash your face. These two, ever since they fucked you out of your mind, have done nothing but make you feel like a naughty little minx. Bakugou and Kirishima specifically go out of their way to not just bully you, to dominate you.

Showing off the black bombshell bra, Eijiro gives you a whistle. “Look at those jugs. You’re definitely getting that.”

“I told you already. I can’t afford these.”

Bakugou cuts in, “Didn’t we tell you not to worry about it? Shut up and try on that lacy one, slut.”

You obey immediately, and you can’t help the smile forming on your lips, stretching your cheeks. They’re buying something for me. Even if it is lingerie, it still makes you happy.

———

They take you back to U.A, and the three of you end up in Bakugou’s room this time. They take you in all kinds of ways. This time, the blonde takes you in the mouth while Eijiro fucks your tight cunt, but the duo doesn’t stop there.

Your bullies’ heightened stimulation and teenage horniness do nothing but push you into further exhaustion. If Kirishima comes inside of your pussy, then Bakugou is pulling out of your velvety folds and beating off on you, covering your ass and back. Some even gets in your hair. It’s borderline cruel what they’re doing to you, but you take every inch of their cocks because it’s what you fucking want. It’s what you’ve been begging for every time you defy their wishes, every time you fight back. They’re making you submit, and you force your legs open even wider, even if it is painful.

As you lay on the bed on your stomach, you can’t help but look over your shoulder at them as you raise your hips a little bit. “Is that all you’ve got?” you challenge wickedly.

———

You are a sopping wet mess by the time the two men finish with you. Dried and fresh seed coats you from your face down to your thighs. You have no energy left. A daze creeps upon you like the night. You stare ahead at Bakugo’s cock with a dumb look on your face, tongue hanging out while panting slightly. His cum dripping from the corner of your mouth along your chin.

You feel Kirishima pull out from your folds, and you shudder from the feeling of him slipping past your walls. A raspy whimper escapes from your lips. The redhead walks around the table to stand next to Katsuki as they both fix their clothes; you, however, lay naked on the bed for their delight.

“I think that oughta keep her out of trouble for a while. What do you think?” Eijiro asks his friend.

“The slut’s worn out as hell. Should probably get her to bed.” Bakugou crouches down to look you in the eyes. “How does that sound, Little Mouse? You gonna be a good girl for us and go to sleep, or are you gonna be a brat?” He puts a hand on your head condescendingly.

The threat hangs on the end of his sentence. You are too tired to resist anything, so you nod your head.

“Can you walk?” Kirishima asks in an amused voice.

You say nothing. You’re beyond exhaustion. There’s nothing left, not a single ounce of energy, not even a single spark of feistiness.

Kirishima grabs a small washcloth and wipes the cum off of your face. “I like making her this tired.” He rubs the towel against your sticky thighs as he talks.

You can’t help but moan under his careful hand as your eyes begin to close. Exhaustion tickles your brain into a deep trance, and within seconds, you’re asleep on Katsuki’s bed.

[ladywaffles]

Dearest lamby what about icemav + 1 for the drunken love confessions if it inspires?

i am so sorry this is literal months late but i hope you enjoy!

“I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?”

Slider is the first of them to get married.

He’s the last of them to settle down.

Merlin and his girl have done everything but the big white wedding; Maverick, who despite all evidence to the contrary, is a good, Church-going boy, looked like a cartoon character with his eyes bugged out when he realized that Merlin and Sandra had been together for the better part of two decades and hadn’t gotten married. They’re on their third kid and second house, and they have no intention of tying the knot any time soon.

It had become clear sometime around the time the Berlin Wall fell that Ice and Maverick were never going to have a formal wedding ceremony.

At least, it appeared that way to Slider. Ice and Maverick were circling in a stupidly elaborate mating dance that involved constantly competing on their hops and calling each other dumbass and denigrating their respective ability to operate a jet, while also glaring down any aviator who ever jumped in on the conversation—even just to tease!—as if to say, No, you fucker, you are not a part of this. You do not get to call this man lesser-than just because I can, you are not me, you have not earned the right to look at us.

It took a while, but Mav and Ice finally got their shit together (thanks in no small part to Slider and Merlin’s meddling, you’re welcome, asshats), and sure, they can’t get married in any way that the government would recognize, but somewhere along the line they turned into boring DINKs who doted on Bradshaw’s kid when they were stateside.

So Slider’s the first one to get married, and therefore the first one to get a bachelor party. They’re well into their mid-thirties, and it’s the first bachelor party they’ve ever thrown.

Well, except for Maverick, who was one of only two witnesses to Nicholas and Carole Bradshaw’s elopement, and who loved both the bride and groom so much that he wasn’t going to let the occasion go by without a Maverick-sized bang.

So God help him, Slider puts his fate into Maverick’s hands. It’s not the first time in his life, and it certainly won’t be the last, but giving Maverick free rein still sends a chill down his spine. He’s not a bad guy—Slider never would’ve let Ice get tangled up with him if he weren’t—but there’s something about him that could make even the most hardened naval aviator flinch.

They start off the night at a respectable Navy bar. Maverick buys them all a round of shots, and with a smirk, breaks out one of the three phrases he knows in Russian (To our health!) and downs the shot in one go. Slider, Ice, and Merlin follow suit. He has to fight a grimace when he comes back up. The asshole bought them vodka, even though the only one of them who still has a taste for it is Ice.

Typical.

Three hours and two bars later, Slider has regrets. He can’t remember how many drinks he’s had, and he hasn’t seen Merlin in at least forty-five minutes. He wants to be concerned about that, but he can’t bring up the energy to care. Mitchell’s all but killed his liver.

He stumbles through the crowd towards the bar, because he thinks he remembers seeing Ice’s stupidly-spiked, gelled hair around there. God, he hopes he still has his wallet on him somewhere. He crashes into a stool and hoists himself up, flagging down a bartender for a glass of seltzer, and she doesn’t charge him for the service. He must be really shitfaced if that’s the case.

He lifts his head when he hears Ice’s voice through the din.

“Mav, Mav!” he laughs. He slurs over the a just a bit, and oh, Ice must be really out of it if he’s tripping over his words.

Slider turns his head slowly to get Ice’s attention, and instead is treated to the image of Mitchell’s shortstack frame trying to support all six-foot-oh of Ice against the bartop.

“I like your stupid face,” Ice says, staring Mitchell down with all the intensity of a bird of prey. “It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?”

Ice lifts a hand but is too uncoordinated to follow through. Slider snorts, drawing Maverick’s attention.

“Slider! Hey, buddy! How was your night?” he asks cheerfully, holding onto Ice’s waist.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to kill me,” Slider returns.

“Aw, but that’s how you know I care! C’mon, we gotta get the Iceman home before he ralphs in the bathroom. You know he’d hate to do that.”

So Slider helps his pilot and his wingman into a taxi at the end of the night and falls face-first into the couch in Ice’s living room like he’s still the twenty-something he was when they met, while Maverick wrangles Ice into bed.

And if he hears Maverick’s overly-loud whispering and Ice’s grunted responses from down the hall in the darkest hours, just before dawn, “Do you know what you said at the bar? I wanted to laugh, but you were so sincere, Ice. God. You really can’t hold your alcohol like I can anymore. Benefits of teaching TOPGUN! I like your face, too, Ice. I’ll always like your face. It’s a good face. I love you, Ice,” well…

Perhaps he’s too drunk to remember it in the morning.

[modelbus]

Another day another flufftober…

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 2 - We Meet Again (Childhood Home)

The feeling of being back was disorientating.

A small house, crammed between other equally as small houses loomed behind you as you locked the door. The key always took a few tries to work, no matter how your father tried to fix it. How long had it been since you’ve been home? Five years, six?

You had left England ages ago to get a fresh start in life. Accepted into an American college, your original plan was only to get a degree there. Instead, that morphed into a life of your own.

If it was up to you, you wouldn’t have come back. Not because you dislike England or your parents, but because there was simply no reason to. In fact, the only reason you’re back now is because it was your mothers birthday. And you desperately needed to go find flowers.

That was one good thing about being back here at least. You, from some deep recess of your brain, knew exactly where everything was. Including the tiny flower shop a few blocks away. They used to give you and your childhood best friend free flowers; a worker tucking a flower being your ear for you, and your friend presenting you with his flower.

As your feet instinctively make turns, avoiding uneven cracks in the sidewalk without a thought, you can't help but smile to yourself. It felt like, if you breathed in just right, you were 9 again.

The bell above the door jingles as you enter, and you have to pull up short a foot from the door. The store hasn't changed at all. With vines creeping up the wall, and wooden tables housing vases of vibrant flowers, it was the exact same as you remembered. There was something so sweet about it having stayed. Like it was frozen in time, just waiting for you to enter.

A few moments pass as you just take it all in. You definitely missed this part of home and didn't even know it until now.

Behind you, the bell that had announced your arrival sounds again. Something crashes into your back, making you gasp in surprise.

"Woah!" Someone exclaims, hands on your shoulders to keep you from being bowled over. "My bad! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were right in front of the door."

You turn, ready to assure the person it was most certainly your fault, only to have your eyes catch on them. Brown fluffy hair, taller than you, familiar eyes.

Wilbur is the exact same, but oh so different.

"Wilbur?" You breathe, and his eyes light up with familiarity.

Before you know it, he's hugging you tightly. Pressing you into him, laughing with joy. "Oh my God! It's you!"

"Wil- Wilbur- let me breathe!" You giggle, pushing on his chest until he lets you go.

He grins down at you, lips quirked in a way you haven't seen in forever. You'd still know that smile though, no matter the length of time.

"You're taller."

"So are you." You point out. "Then again, you were always a green bean."

"Rude." It doesn't take the smile off his face. "What are you doing here? Where have you been? I need to know everything."

"I'm back for my mom's birthday, I thought-"

"Hang on." He interrupts, eyes widening. "You... you sound American. You've been in America? You actually went there?"

You nod eagerly. "Yeah! I went to college, and I have a degree and a job."

"You did it." Wilbur says softly. "You chased your dreams."

"Did you?" You ask, scanning his expression. Funny how a face doesn't change that much over the years. "You were so good with your guitar, where did that go?"

He flushes, looking off to the side before down at you. "I, uh, have a band now. Lovejoy. We're doing well. Like, really fucking well."

"That's amazing!" At this point, you were almost giddy for him. Music was his passion when you two were younger, and to hear he was able to follow that...

"I can't even believe it most days." He laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "So, you're here for your mother's birthday?"

"Yeah. Just for the week. I thought I'd buy her flowers, those ones she always liked. The-"

"Pink carnations." He finishes for you. "And you liked daisies more."

"I forgot how well you know me."

The present-tense is purposeful, and he doesn't correct you.

"I'll get to hear you play with your band sometime, right?" You ask, partially teasing. In all honesty, you really want to. Wilbur's made it to his dream, and that's something you'd kill to see.

"Only if I get to visit you in America some time." He responds, equally as teasing.

"Is that who I think it is?" Someone asks, making both of you look. Miss Susan, aged since you last saw her. She owns this shop, practically watched you and Wilbur grow up.

There's white streaking her hair, which is pulled up in a bun atop her head. Deep smile lines crease her face, empathized as she smiles softly at you two. Older, yes, but still the flower-loving lady you recall.

"That it is." Wilbur answers. "It's nice to see you again, Susan."

"Nice to see you again." You echo.

"Wait, wait!" She exclaims, hustling to grab two daisies. One she hands to Wilbur, and the other she tucks carefully behind your ear. "Just like old times."

You smile, reaching up to brush your fingers along the delicate petals. Wilbur, next to you, holds his daisy out for you.

"Just like old times."

[only-angel-28]

mastermind, part five

hey guys😀🔫

first of all im so sorry ik its been literally ten years since the last update but we're backk😋🙌🙌

anyways this used to be called redbone but im changing it to mastermind (the taylor song) bc i feel like it just fits more w the story but heres part five!!

its a short one for now but dw part six and seven are in the making and theyll probably be out later tonight or early tomorrow morning idk

anyways i hope you like this one please lmk and leave me some requests😋🤞

mastermind, masterlist

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“Good morning,” Harry says, smiling brightly as Hermione and I sit at the table.

“Morning,” we both reply in unison, Hermioen going to say something but is cut off when our attention darts to the old owl that all but crashes into our food on the table, sending bowls of cereal and plates of toast flying into the air.

“Ron! Get your owl in check!” I yell as Hermione magics away the spilt milk on my robes, leaving them brand new.

“Sorry, sorry. God this bird’s going to be the death of me.” Ron replies as he detaches the box in the owl's claws before shooing it away.

“What’s that?” Harry asks, pointing at the box curiously as Ron goes to open it and pulls out a long black robe with white ruffles at the collar.

“Mum’s sent me a dress!” Ron says in horror as he stares down at the old thing.

“Well, it does match your eyes. Is there a bonnet? Aha!” I shout through my laughter, pulling out a white collar with a black bow and holding it up at Ron’s neck.

“Oh shut up Y/N. You’re not funny.” Ron says dismissively as he walks over to Ginny and continues,

“Ginny here, these must be for you.”

“I’m not wearing that, it’s ghastly.” she says looking up at the dress in disgust.

Hermione lets out a fit of giggles as Harry and I smack each other, laughing at Ron, unable to control ourselves.

“What are you on about?” Ron asks confused.

“They’re not for Ginny, you idiot, they’re for you!” I shout as the Gryffindors around us join in on the laughter.

“They’re dress robes,” Hermione adds, calming down slightly.

“Dress robes, for what?” Ron responds with frustration in his voice.

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“The Yule Ball has been a Hogwarts tradition since its inception,” McGonagall’s voice booms in the large room filled with girls on one side and boys on the other. Hermione and I softly giggle as we make small quips about how uncomfortable Harry and Ron look, having to sit next to Theo and Draco.

“On Christmas Eve night, we gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity,” she says as she glides around the room, eyeing Harry and Draco as they make faces at each other, causing them to stop almost immediately.

“I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally as the Yule Ball is, as you know, first and foremost, a dance,” she says, sending the girls into excited conversations and the boys into a sea of annoying groans.

“Silence!” she shouts over the noise, clapping her hands together over her head, “Our school has commanded the respect of the wizarding world for over 10 centuries. And I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons.” she finishes, sending everyone into quiet laughter. I look up from my fixed gaze at McGonagall at Theo who snickers softly and looks at me before mouthing, “Try saying that five times fast.”

I smirk as I try whispering it as he does the same, before McGonagall walks over in front of us, breaking our gazes at each other. “Now, to dance,” she says, waving her arms around gracefully, turning to the girl's side, saying, “is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers…longing to burst forth and take flight.”

She turns to the boys, cutting off whatever snide remark Ron was making, “Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr Weasley.”

She walks over to Ron swiftly as he cowers slightly, looking immensely uncomfortable as she asks him to join her.

“...Yes?”

Harry looks over at Hermione and me and we smirk at Ron as McGonagall lectures him how to put his hands on her waist.

They dance for a minute before McGonagall calls everyone over and tells us to partner up, and Theo comes up to me with a hand behind his back. “Join me for this dance?” he says jokingly as he bows forward slightly and puts one hand out making me smile and reach out for his hand before I swiftly grab Harry’s from behind him and say, “Sorry maybe next time!” over my shoulder, sending him into laughter, shaking his head as Harry looks up at me quizzingly.

“Leaving him wanting more?” he smiles at me, “Yep, I learned from the best.” I joke, referencing the endless amounts of times Harry and Ginny have gotten close but have never made anything official.

He rolls his eyes and says, “Shut up.”

“Have you even asked her yet?” I ask as we sway to the music, “Not yet, I think I’ll do it tonight…if Ron doesn’t interrupt us again that is.”

“Don’t worry,” I say nodding my head over to the other side of the room where Ron and Hermione are trying to dance, “I think he’s got other things to worry about.”

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“We really need to get a move on, otherwise we’ll be the only ones without dates,” Ron whispers to Harry as we try and recreate the potion Slughorn’s just shown us.

Harry doesn’t say anything as he smiles to himself and focuses back on his potion, making me smile softly in return knowing he’s probably asked Ginny by now and she's said yes.

“What are you smiling about?” Theo asks, interrupting me from my thoughts as he adds fluxweed into our potion and looks at me confusingly. “No reason.” I smile up at him, noticing the ring I gave him on his finger.

“So,” I say, taking my seat as we wait for our potion to boil.

“So?” he replies, taking his seat next to me and resting the bottom side of his jaw in his hand with his elbow on the table, staring at me with his blue eyes.

“Yule Ball’s in a few days, have you found a date yet?”

“Mm no not yet. Why do you ask?” he smirks.

“Oh no, no reason.” I stutter, feeling embarrassed, as I try to distract myself with the brew in front of us.

“So your bruises have healed,” I say, reaching out and holding his face to the side to examine the area they used to be on top of his sharp cheekbone. “Mhm. All better now.” He smiles.

I sigh and say, “You shouldn’t have done that you know.” “Why not? I’d do it for Blaise or Pansy or even Draco, I’d do it for any of my friends, so why not you? Especially you.” he mutters the last bit silently but my ears catch it before it disappears, making blood rush to my ears and cheeks.

“A friendship between a Gryffindor and Slytherin is unheard of. Especially considering your family and my best friends, what makes you so confident in ours?”

“I don’t know. You’re…different,” he says, standing up, “You’re not like those other Gryffindors. They’re too proud.”

I laugh after him, gathering my own things as he goes to give Slughorn our finished potion, “You Slytherin lot aren’t all that humble anyways.”

“No Star, we just know our worth.” he winks back at me as he leaves and I notice something on his side of the desk. A little envelope with my name on it.

I open it to find,

“Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after curfew. Bring a jacket.”

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“You took your time,” Theo says as I walk up the stairs, holding two cups of hot chocolate for him and me.

“Shut up, I was bribing one of the elves to give me whipped cream in these this time.” I hold one of the drinks up to him to take it before he grabs both out my hands and puts them down on the floor,

“You shouldn’t have, we won’t need them.” He smiles mischievously before taking my hand and running down the large, empty corridors.

“Theo stop! Where are we going?!” I whisper yell out of surprise, grabbing his hand tighter as I run to keep up with him. “You’ll see!” He says over his shoulder, leading us out the castle and giving a few galleons to the prefect keeping watch at the door.

“Come on,” he says softly now, both of us panting from the run.

The cold wind hits me in the face and immediately sends a shiver up my spine, making me pull my jacket up slightly to cover my exposed neck.

Theo lets go of my hand and pulls his black, green and silver Slytherin scarf off and wraps the cloth around my neck, 

“Theo, will you stop being a prick and at least tell me where we’re going?”

He grabs my arm and links it in with his before saying, “We’re almost there.”

I look up at him as we walk in comfortable silence, the soft moonlight reflecting on his sharp features, his rosy cheeks and the cold vapour coming from his pink nose as he breathes and he turns to me giving me a big smile as he stops walking, turns me around and covers my eyes.

“Theo what now? You drag me out of the warm castle and make me freeze out here in the stupid snow and you didn’t even let me drink my hot chocolate and you won’t even tell me where we’re going and I’m probably going to get hypothermia at this point because of you.” I finish my rant as he turns me around, slowly removing his cold fingers from my eyes.

“Shut up and open your eyes, you drama queen.”

I can hear the smile in his voice as I open my eyes and see a big tree with a covering on top, looking like a den adorned in fairy lights and snowflake decorations. A red checkered picnic blanket resting on the ground along with my favourite pastries, hot chocolates and movies all set up on a projector facing the castle. Snowflakes all form one sentence above the movie projector screen playing Tangled, making my breath stop and a huge grin form on my lips.

Will you get tangled with me at the ball?

I turn around to find a flustered-looking Theodore with his hands in his pocket, nervously looking down at me waiting for my reaction. “You did this?” I ask with a quizzical smile on my face, still in disbelief that he went through all this effort for me.

“Yeah. Well I mean Blaise, Mattheo and Pansy helped me. Draco tried but he wasn’t any good so I got Pansy to instead. And I asked Hermione for all your favourite movies and I’ve seen you with all these pastries and hot chocolates a lot this time of year so I thought you’d like them. But I mean if you don’t that’s perfectly fine, I can scrap it all and we can pretend like this never happened and-”

“Yes.” I interrupt his rant with a smile on my face, admiring his stress over whether I’d like the gesture or not.

“And I- Sorry?” He asks breaking his rant confusingly with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, I love it and I’d love to go to the ball with you Theodore.”

“Oh, I- Okay well. Okay. That’s great, that’s…Wow.” He stutters out, surprised at my response.

Theodore Nott stuttering? Nervous? When did that happen? I think to myself as he composes himself again and asks, “Shall we?” pointing to the blanket and movie playing on the projector.

I nod, smiling brightly up at him as I give him a side hug. He tenses for a moment before wrapping his arms around me and hugging back tightly.

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part five done!!

lmk what you think and send me requests<33

taglist:

@harrysnovia @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere @lilianelena39