#having a working car sitting around is one thing but a broken one? I am not having that.

[effemimaniac]

apparently the key isn't turning in my car. it's always another fucking thing

[crystalkleure]

I need to go to the fucking post office and keep not being able to do it

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 7)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 6, Part 8

summary: You spend some time with Miguel.

warnings: smut. f receiving oral, fingering, grinding, switchy behaviour from both sides, angst. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this chapter beat my ass icl

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all-consuming grief,

It’s going to be a warm night. It's ushered in by the kind of dawn that bleeds red and gold, tawny and autumnal in the waning light. Like the washy colours of a Renoir, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing the thing he swore black-and-blue he wouldn’t. Reminiscing and romanticising; for the first time in a while, Miguel is able to see the sun set, legs splayed on the brick of his front steps. 

Sitting by worn metal railing, he’s still in his work clothes. He chucked his rucksack on the step above, leaning long legs onto the ones below. They don’t ache as much as they used to, well-trained by a couple months of running and spending more time in the gym. There’s a shake in the fridge, labelled ‘Tuesday, PM’ that he’ll gulp down before bed, and one labelled ‘Wednesday, AM’ that he’ll take before setting off in the morning. In the morning, with cloudy skies and street cars to keep him company. There’s too much pollution, light or otherwise, for him to see some stars. He hasn’t seen stars in a while, now.

Long days seem to have turned into just days somewhere along the way. He can’t quite pinpoint when, and doesn’t really care to, but he thinks his brother would call it “progress”. There’s a grimace on his face as he thinks about it; a word that tastes like mud and feels like swirling cement in his mouth. It’s all bullshit, really. Gabi’s paltry attempt at therapising him, one which he would usually nip in the bud - taking metaphorical shears to slash at weeds and dense conversation. Catch-up calls about how he feels, how he’s doing – when he’s fine, he always is – as if Gabi is waiting for a shoe to drop. 

He’s waiting for Miguel to have an epiphany, a breakdown the size of a collapsing star. It’s not coming, he keeps telling his brother, and the sooner the younger O’Hara realises – without the wide eyes and the pity – the better for the both of them. After all, Gabriel is his baby brother, and he’s spent his whole life worrying on his behalf: playing hide-and-seek in little closets and putting back together broken toys. Trying to drown out the sound of shouting and broken plates. They’re too old for all that, the worrying and gulping back tears, walking its well-travelled paths – and it doesn’t feel right that Gabi should do the same for him.

He sighs, deep and heavy and rolling down that quiet street. After what feels like forever, he’s tempted to lie down, to rest his head on the stone, close his eyes and think of something else. Of someone else - lots of someones, at this point in the day. He’s not the weepy type, but he is tired; shaking off the wear and tear, and fighting off sleep. 

Then he sees it; a figure walking towards him, all sandals and khaki shorts and smiles. Mr Estevez, donned in his year-round attire of a polo shirt, a little tight around the middle, and cargos cut off below the knee – finally appropriate, considering the weather. He’s strolling closer like he’s got all the time in the world. If Miguel wasn’t so exhausted; the bone-deep kind, the kind that seeps into skin and lines a casket; he would’ve been annoyed. Instead, he hisses, furrows quickly deepening. 

“Buenas, Miguelito!” Mr Estevez beams, scratching at scraggly facial hair. 

Miguel frowns, but greets him nonetheless: that politeness drilled into him during childhood rearing its head.

“Buenas tardes, tío.” He grits his teeth as he gets up from his seat, creaky joints and all.

His landlord, the building’s handyman, owner of half a dozen shops all over the city, and Miguel’s uncle-that’s-not-really-his-uncle; Mr Estevez wears many hats, staying bright and informal regardless. He’s known the older man since he was 6, so he can’t be too disappointed; his tío has been late for weddings, funerals, and his little boy’s birth – it’s not much of a surprise that he’d be late now, too. Miguel stretches out a rough palm, and the man stops just shy of his hand, completely ignoring it. Before he knows it, Miguelito is engulfed in a great big bear hug, with wet kisses pressed to the apples of his cheeks. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, as usual, so they hang limply; arms flailing to his sides like a t-rex.

They separate, and he coughs at the great big hand that slaps his back. Grumbling, he walks up to the door, bag over his back, and stands expectantly. Mr Estevez doesn’t follow, instead dusting himself down to sit on the steps.

“I just need to get into the building.” Miguel starts. “Forgot my keys, and I've been here for hours. M’tired, and I–”

“Let’s sit, Miguel.” He scoots over, making space. “Look at the stars.”

It’s clear the older man isn’t moving. Begrudgingly, he obliges.  “We’re in the middle of the city. You only see “stars” in the river – beer bottles and tinned crap reflecting the lights.” 

“Language.” He gets a sharp nudge to his ribs.

“Discúlpame, tío.”

They stew for a moment, bathing in the silence that follows. The man besides him is the first to speak.

“I spoke to your mother.”

He’s scoffing and moving to get up, before feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.

“She’s worried, Miguel. Says you haven’t called in a while.”

“She hasn’t called me either."

“She’s stubborn.” The man besides him chuckles, bringing gentle eyes to meet his own. "Pig-headed. Remind you of someone?"

Miguel rolls his eyes, he just can't help it. 

"She’s also the one that moved back home, so either way–”

"You know it's all been hard on her." 

" –on her? It's been hard for her, surrounded by family, after she abandoned me? A-After…" His voice gets dangerously hoarse, threatening to crack under the weight of those words. 

He can't stand the pitiful look sent his way: brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sorry. It's… It's nothing. I'm fine. Just fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine, Miguel."

–even though you're definitely not okay. That part is left unsaid, spat onto the pavement like bitter backwash. 

Mr Estévez sighs, ruffling a hand through Miguel's hair. It makes him hiss and dart away from the hand, pouting like he's a little kid again. He doesn't like it; the way he feels like all this life he's lived has been for naught. Trials and tribulations, and yet he doesn't feel that ache of growth; still stuck in the shoes of an awkward teenager. 

"You think too much, Miguelito. Always have." He smiles, the kind that deepens the wrinkles around his mouth. It twists Miguel into knots, mouth dry as he tries to untangle himself from that feeling. "I'm worried about you, kid."

He sniffs, eyes trained towards the pavement. There it is again, worry; complicating and unravelling what was meant to be just another day. 

"It's today, isn't it?" 

All Miguel does is nod, shakily. It's been 2 years since his heart was ripped out of his chest. It heaves now, an erratic rise and fall he’s doing his best to control. Breathe, deeply and calmly; try not to think about his little girl in that hospital bed, and those blank eyes staring back. 

“M’fine.” It comes out more desperate than he intends it, and he curses under his breath. If Mr Estevez hears the crude language, he doesn’t react.

Miguel is tense, hunched over the bag on his lap and curled into himself like prey – spitting and prickly and clearly uncomfortable. He’s never been the weepy kind, but the older man can’t help but think it’s a shame; so much love, and nowhere to keep it but inside. Miguel's bottled it up; the memories of precious Gabriella, all that warmth she brought out in her father; and he's turned them to poison pills to keep himself sick. 

Miguel would never admit it, of course. He’s too stubborn. Pig-headed.

His tío sighs, moving to get up. He groans, in that dramatic sort of way he knows Miguel can’t stand, but still, there's a rush to help him up. Producing the door keys with a flourish, he pulls from the depths of cargo pockets, and unlocks the main door. Ushering in the younger man, who has grown so tall he needs to duck as he climbs the narrow stairs, there’s a finger prodded into the back of that cotton button-up.

“Miguel?” He starts, revving up a conversation he’s been meaning to have for a while now.

“Hmm?” 

They both wait by the entrance of the apartment. The keys jingle in Mr Estevez’s hand.

“If I open the door, will I find out that you’ve driven away another one of my tenants?”

Conveniently, there seems to be a rather interesting spot in the hardwood that Miguel pokes with a dress shoe. 

“...depends on your definition of 'driven out', tío.”

“That’s the third one this year! Not even 2 months– I knew there was something up. Not a single one of those little smiley faces to my messages, and–"

“I’ll make up for his side of the rent, you know I will.”

“I don’t like it. You should be saving up, to go get a house and settle down somewhere."

“I like living here, and I’ve said multiple times I’d pay the extra to live alone–”

“And then what? You rot in your room for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t– rot feels a little–”

“Nonsense. You’re lonely, Miguelito. If you don’t like it, you move out.”

They both know he won’t. It’s not really an option; the apartment is affordable and he likes living so close to his old neighbourhood, his old haunts. It’s like he’s tethered to that place with a bungee cord wrapped under his ribs, always snapping back.

“No promises, tío.”

“Doesn’t matter, Miguelito.” He sighs, scratching at stubble. “It’s been hard to find other tenants, with half the neighbourhood drying up. But as soon as I do–”

He points an accusatory finger at Miguel, and the sentence is finished for him.

“...best behaviour, I know.”

“Best behaviour.” Mr Estevez repeats, and starts to fumble with the keys. He throws a little comment over his shoulder. “I liked your lady friend, ages ago… the scary one, with the blue hair. She was–”

“Xina’s not scary, when you get to know her.”

“She was funny. Very pretty. Always paid rent on time, gave me food when I came to fix the heating…”

“It's out again, by the way.” Miguel chews his lip, with a strange expression. “And yeah, she was.”

The door swings open. Mr Estevez doesn’t let him off the hook, though, engulfing him in a warm hug. This time, in the doorway of his apartment, eyes screwed shut; he doesn’t try to wriggle out of it, melting into his tío’s arms. It feels different now that he’s not a kid: angry and hurting with a different sort of ache, but he leans into it, all the same.

~~~

There's a pressure released from the apartment, lately. Miguel feels… well, first of all, he feels ; thinks with his heart and not his head, sometimes. It's lighter, coming home with that weight on his shoulders and with someone there to distract him from it. Living life, he thinks, for the first time in a while. Vivid and vibrant and awake ; relishing the autumnal weather. It's always been his favourite season, despite how childish he thinks having a favourite season is; something you had asked him on a whim one morning. 

Normally, he wouldn't entertain it, and with all the shit Pete spews, sometimes, he's had plenty of practice ignoring it. A well-timed dirty look, and then he'd get his head down and work; occupy himself with something less frivolous. But when you say it, with half a piece of toast sticking out of your mouth, it doesn't feel like a chore to answer. It doesn't feel like a stupid question, and he finds his face growing warm at the thought of you caring about these little things – wanting to know him , however that comes. 

And so, his answer is Autumn. It's a little stilted; but catching him off guard after a run will do that to him. It's purely practical , he says, eyes tracing the slopes of your body in that shirt and shorts that stops at your thighs; high enough that he feels like a perv for looking. Autumn has temperate, even weather. Perfect for sweaters and hoodies. Warm enough that you don't need a jacket. Just right. You snort, nudging him. Bullshit, Mig. You flutter your eyelashes mockingly, your tone light. You just think it's the prettiest. 

And he hums, catching you off guard. You're both drawn towards that little window over the sink, the one that overlooks a fire escape and the street. He's had that view for three years, now. Sleeves always rolled to his elbows as he does his washing up, but never quite looking. The street just below is framed in its windowpane, quite the pretty picture. Crisp leaves scattered on the sidewalk, carpeted in red and honeyed amber. And he can feel it from the other side of the glass; smell it, touch it, taste it. Autumn: hot chocolate and giggles, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and cupping tiny palms to warm them up. Sunsets seen for the first time, watched through bus windows on the way back from school – he misses those the most. 

"You don't think it's beautiful?" You say, leaning your head towards the half-open window. 

You don't notice, but he looks over to you, swallowing roughly. He says it with a small voice.

"I…I do."

You're darting to the bathroom not too long after, breaking the spell. Frustrated, he resists the urge to curl up into a ball and scream into his palms. He's got what he wanted; a good fuck, a pretty face, a warm smile. Friends, at the most, who happen to get the other off after a long day. A welcome distraction, at the least. He's got what his body has been telling him he needs for the past few months. It makes him feel weird, so oddly settled; but, all things considered… 

Miguel is doing okay.

“...and I wouldn’t normally ask, but I swear , I left him…o-on read and he won’t stop texting me.”

Really, actually; he’s doing fine.

“It feels weird– mmffuck– but I can’t ignore him any longer.”

Maybe even… good. Better than okay.

“I still have a bunch of my stuff over there. At least half of it is clothes and books, a-and I’ve put it off for as long as I can…”

He hums in response, pulling quiet curses from you, above. Pressing the flat of his tongue onto your clit, your hips jump up and he purrs ; rearing up to dive even deeper into your pussy. Too quick for him, you catch on, hand in his hair to pull him up.

Sitting up on your haunches, he rests his head on your bare thigh – licking the taste of you off of his lips.

You tilt your head, looking at him with those eyes he can’t help but marvel at. A beat passes. 

“...so?” You start, expectantly. “Will you help me or not?”

His response comes in the form of teeth nipping at pillowy skin. You yelp, and swat him away whilst he chuckles.

“I’m serious , Mig. It’s too much to pick up by myself. And you’re the only person I know with a car…”

“ Ouch, hermosa. ” He frowns as you peter off. “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? For my car?”

“If I say it’s because of your sparkling personality, will you help me?”

For a moment, it seems like he’s got his brows pressed together like he’s seriously considering it, but it ends up being just smoke and mirrors. He’s pretending , biding his time to hook a hand under your legs and force you to lie down onto the bed. Your head hits the covers with a gentle thump as he hikes up the lip of that big tee even further; squeezing your thighs around his head like earmuffs. 

It’s when he makes eye-contact, tongue circling your hole, that you realised you’re fucked. Up until now, he’s been toying with you – playing with his food, so to speak – lazily swirling his tongue around your clit and pressing buttons to see exactly where to push. And you'd welcomed it, a hand in his hair as you talked about your day – which he'd asked for, of course. 

Now, he's insatiable, eating you out like a man starved; all tongue and wet kisses to your swollen bud. You're slightly raised up on his shoulders, clamping around his tongue as he fucks into you fervently. Big palms spread you wider, and he hums into it, content.

"So pretty ," He sets you down, pupils blown as he studies the way your back arches and the way your legs shudder in the sheets. He slides upwards, sitting next to you, tracing a hand across the gentle curve of stomach that peeks out from your big t-shirt. 

Still coming down from your high, you're only just able to register it: he looks mesmerised, a dopey smile plastered on his face. 

"What?" You scoff when a moment passes, and his hand inches closer towards your lower lips. 

"M'just looking." He shrugs, with a little smile on his face. "I'm not allowed to look?" 

You scoff, but you're still shaky so it comes out a little more pathetic than you intend. Nevertheless, you start to sit up but he stops you with a gentle hand at your chest. 

"Call him." He says, pressing two fingers to your clit and then down to your gushing slit. 

Maybe it's the way he hunches over you, eyes flicking towards your lips, or the way he slips those fingers in; but your eyes go wide, and you're choking on your next words. 

"Call… Call who?" Playing dumb, dancing on a razor's edge, and Miguel only quirks up an eyebrow at the stupid question. 

"You know who." He says it low, smooth and dulcet as he curls his fingers at that sweet spot, experimenting. "I'll help you, fine. But I want you to call your ex, too. Let him know when to expect us. Is that okay, sweetheart ?" 

That last word comes with a twang, the lilting tone of what sounds like mockery. He twists the knife, nudging the flat of his palm onto your clit – still tender and throbbing from your last orgasm. 

Before you change your mind, you pick up the phone laid face down on the bedside table, pressing shaky fingers to its screen. You don't dare to look up, knowing Miguel is watching; dark eyes studying your every move. 

Flicking his wrist this way and that, he swallows roughly as your fingers stutter on the screen. Not completely satisfied, he still has the time to look smug, settling into a comfortable pace. Finally, your phone rings with a tell-tale dial tone. It rings once. It rings twice, and–

"Hello? " The voice is muffled as it says your name. Put it on speaker, Miguel mouths and you oblige.

"Hey, J-Jamie." The phone is shaky in your hands, so you lay it out next to you on the bed. 

"It's late, baby." You don't have time to be annoyed at his tone – or the unwarranted pet name – because Miguel speeds up, pumping in and out of you with a little more force. 

"I… I know. S-Sorry." You clamp down the moans that threaten to erupt, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts. 

Head lolling back into the sheets, you spend a good ten seconds in oblivious bliss, until Jamie breaks the silence. 

"You've been ignoring me for ages, baby… and then you call out of the blue. What is it?" He's tired, it sounds like. Irritated for sure. 

"Just w-wanted to–" Miguel presses his thumb to your clit and you jump. Once back down to earth he has to prompt you to answer. "-my stuff! Fuck , I just want to pick up my stuff."

"...now?" 

Tomorrow. Miguel mouths. 

"Tomorrow. " You repeat, wrapping a hand around his forearm to slow him down. It's too much, too fast; and he has the audacity to add another finger, scissoring out to stretch your cunt. 

"O-kay. " He clicks his tongue, with some things rustling in the background. "Okay. You're acting weird, but..."

You're conflicted. His tone makes you melt, reaching for your phone to answer when Miguel snakes a hand under your shirt, palming your tits. To your surprise, he presses shaky kisses to the skin, rolling around your nipple with the flat of his tongue. You keen, clamping a hand around your mouth to stop the noises that spill out. 

"...we still need to talk about what happened. About how we left things." 

Anger flares up at your chest; hot at the sheer gall. He wants to talk? Now, when you had been met with a brick wall of silence; begging and begging for even a simple explanation? 

What made it sting even more was that even after the breakup, everything happened on Jamie's terms. He broke up with you, providing little warning. He completely ghosted you, refusing to answer countless calls and messages. And now, he wants to talk; to make himself feel better and wank off his own ego, no doubt. It's not bitterness that makes you press Miguel closer, to revel in the pleasure that he gives you, you convince yourself. It's for you ; finally, unabashedly, just for you. 

You don't bother to answer, hanging up the call with a click. Tugging at his hair, you pull him off with a wet pop; slick-soaked fingers slipping out of your cunt.

He cradles your chin, angling you upwards. 

"You okay? Too much?" It barely registers; you're too focused on the tangle of curls framing his face, and the rosy pout of messy lips. 

You shake your head, writhing against the sheets. 

"More." You move his hand over to rest between your legs. "Please, Miguel."

His eyes flutter, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” 

He says it with sobering clarity, bolstered by just how precisely he slots against your bare pussy. You can feel it, the full length of his cock; pressed up against you as he slips it out of his sweats. Head spinning, it slaps onto your stomach. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Oh fuck. He's big. 

"Just like that." He coos, spitting into his palm and pumping his cock. “Wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum.”

~~~

When tomorrow comes, you’re still sore from the litany of bruises and hickeys littered. It’s a Saturday, and you’re up bright and early. Well, Miguel is up bright and early, clattering around in the kitchen as you wake up. 

He seems energised, mug of coffee in hand whilst you rub the sleep from your eyes.  You waltz into the kitchen through the open doorway, morning breath and all. 

"Morning," You say, soft and giggly at the way he jumps ten feet in the air, too wrapped up in himself to notice at first. 

"Morning." He breathes, melting when he sees you in the shirt he had picked out for you last night. He shakes himself out of it. "Hungry? I can make something."

"No, no. M'good." You sidle up to the counter, head clocked at the fancy machine on the heavy slab. There's a question on the tip of your tongue, one you roll between your teeth. "Could I have some coffee? I mean… could you show me how?" 

Where you expect laughter, mockery, or surprise that you've lived here for months and can't figure out the coffee machine; he nods, patient and calm. You ask him more questions; curious with every flick of a switch, and the way he lights up when talking about it. To your surprise, you want to know more – anyway that comes. 

He's talking about expensive beans, and his favourite roasts – and a place across town that sells the exact kind he likes, but it's too fucking gentrified for him to go there more than two or three times a year. That makes you giggle: his little pout, the press of brow; and he looks up in surprise before joining you in light laughter. 

You finish, pouring cream into his special mug with a flourish, and he steals a sip before you can. You elbow him away, angling for that stolen taste. When you do, it is deep and rich; sweet in a way that reminds you of Miguel, grounded and balanced and silky. In short, it's the perfect cup of coffee. More than content, you hum. 

"Is it good?" He asks because he's already making mental notes, planning to greet you with a hot flask of the stuff in the mornings – if it means he gets that smile, of course. 

"Very." Fervently you nod, lips curved to the ceramic as you blow; and Miguel is trying really hard not to stare. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen you in a way not everyone gets to; pretty and vulnerable and writhing on the tip of his cock; but it has him fending off vivid daydreams. Your lips wrapped around his length, his hand pressing you further down, feeling that warmth as you choke on his–

He blinks and you're gone, padding off to your room with that mug of coffee. You return not too long after, phone in hand and tapping away at the screen. Miguel ignores the way it makes him feel, having your attention and then losing it just as quickly. Like a kicked puppy, he resists the urge to beg for more – of your time, of your attention – turning away to clean up instead. 

"I spoke to Jamie," You start, leaning with your back to the counter as he rolls up the sleeves of a comfy sweater. "He said he'll be around later in the evening, after his shift. Around 10. Is that okay?" 

He shrugs, not caring either way. You're a friend, and he's helping you because that's what friends do. He can still taste you on his lips, but it doesn't mean anything. Not in a way you'd want, anyways. 

"Sure." He doesn't turn around, stealing glances at the open window whilst he clatters around. "I've got a session later on anyways."

He catches a flash of something on your face, and you're pushing it away; prickly and uncomfortable. In his defence, he's stopped bringing people over for faux chemistry tutoring and there's less banging coming from across the wall. Less , but not completely gone, because you've learnt he has a penchant for dropping shit and cursing like someone's Dad. 

But you can't help but think about Sarah , and Jia …. and how close he would get to Sita on the dining table. Fuck . 

You're sighing now, tracing the curve of his jaw as he settles in front of the window: jaw set, arms crossed, and distant. He does that sometimes, goes off somewhere else – all teeth and claws. Tense, brows drawn up in a way that makes you want to smooth them out.  

You put your phone down and mug away, sliding across linoleum to gently nudge his shoulder with your own. 

"Are we…" He starts, and you track his line of sight to a quiet street below. He hums, without looking away. "Are we good?" 

It makes you turn. You blink, as if out of all the nonsense you bicker about daily, that was the most ridiculous. Good? Good? Of course we are, of course we always will be. How could we be anything else? You shut it down before it spills out of your mouth, overzealous and desperate. 

He clarifies with a nervous cough. "Last night. Was it… good?" 

His frown deepens, and you wonder if it's just you that hears it in his tone. His real question, the one that makes you splinter and creak like a felled oak tree: Was I good? Am I good enough?

"Yeah. " You say it like the most obvious thing in the world – and to you, it is. For all his flaws; assholery and its trimmings aside; Miguel has never been a bad lay. You don't even think he has it in him; he couldn't half-ass it if he tried.

"It was–" Fucking amazing . The kind of thing you'll fuck yourself to for the foreseeable future. Cathartic and breath-taking and hot . All of the above. 

Miguel finishes your sentence with something a little less… horny. "It was a lot, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking, how uncomfortable it could be for you, and–" 

Gently, you laugh and cut him off. "I've been having mediocre sex for basically the whole of my adult life, Mig. This is… exciting and new. I like it, I really do."

Exciting and new. It brings him crashing back down to earth. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel, the thrill . Not… him. Not really, anyways. That pang of disappointment feels different, for some reason. He's never liked the song and dance of flirting, but he cherishes its rewards: of being wanted, and someone wanting him . So that fiery flame of need; deep and heady; is unfamiliar under his skin. 

"We can slow down, if you'd like." You bring a hand to his arm, warm and gentle. "I don't mind. We can go back to just messing around on the couch…."

You've got a cheeky smile when you say it; a vague memory of a different time, when you had gotten a little too comfortable on the sofa, leading to hands stuffed in trousers and pressed up against one another. Quick and desperate, you had wanted to see him fall apart; like he did your first night together, and the next, and the next. 

He gets closer, sandwiching you between the counter and his body. With a gentle hand, he strokes your hip, bunching up the fabric to get a peek of thigh.

“What do you like?” He’s deadly serious, red-brown eyes searching your face for something he can’t quite place. And just like that, the air is thick with tension. All you can manage is a limp shrug. 

“I don’t know, really.” It comes out as a croak , as you’re much too occupied with the shrinking gap between you both. “I haven’t done the things you’ve done.”

You’re making assumptions, of course. Filling in the gaps of what you’ve learnt in the past few months; of alleged threesomes and a laundry list of women at his feet. He’s an asshole; pretty and gruff and sarcastic; but God , he knows how to touch you just right.

“I could show you.” He slots a knee between your thighs and your head spins. “Make you feel good. ”

Before you can think, you’re nodding; chewing at your lip to bite back moans when he rucks up your shirt. He nudges your legs apart, both hands on your waist as he slots himself between them. You can feel it; quickly hardening, loose underneath sweats. Miguel slides wide palms to your ass, kneading its globes. With one hand, he picks up your leg by the thigh, and snakes the other to your pussy. Bare, because you’re trying to kill him, of course, and he groans at the feeling of his hand at your cunt; already wet and pliant for him. 

After a few wet taps to your hole, obscene, he slips himself out and you heave; pussy fluttering at just the thought of him inside you. Gathering up your slick on his palm, Miguel pumps his weeping cock, pressing its tip to your hole. 

"Still sore, Miguel." You hiss, looking down at where you both meet with the prettiest pout he thinks he's ever seen. 

It has you clawing at his back for purchase as he finally sinks in, stretching you out in that wonderful way he did last night. Except this time, he's slow and careful; steeling himself with shaky breaths. 

"Oh, fuck. " He settles in about halfway, stopping to hike up your leg just a bit higher. "Want me to make you feel better?" 

He says it breathless and crooning, forehead comes to rest on yours. With that other hand flat on the counter, you're lifted up to only toes on the floor, and he angles himself to buck up; filling you deep, and cock sliding past that sweet spot inside. He sets a pace, grinding into you, rather than fucking. If last night was dirty ; taboo, quick and primal; then this morning feels different. Intimate and reverent, he rolls his hips perfectly ; sending flashes of that first night down your spine. 

With the moans that spill out of your mouth, it takes all of Miguel's willpower not to swallow them in a kiss. Impossibly close, he traces up your thigh with a large palm; eventually pressing into the small of your back. Arching into him, your lips barely brush together, and you're both panting into open mouths; drunk on pleasure. 

"Miguel." There's a warning somewhere in your tone; underneath the layers of lust, you remind him of your previous agreement. 

"I… I know. " He swallows, nose pressed to yours, eyes screwed shut. He thinks if he opens them, he might spill into you right then and there. 

He's trying, he really is, tracing your cheek with his nose and mouthing at your neck – light kisses against the skin. He smells like coffee, bittersweet and heady, and you groan, rocking into him in a way that rubs up against your clit – before finding an ounce of restraint and putting a hand to his neck. 

You apply a little pressure, intending to push him away, but he likes it: eyes fluttering open, and mouth curved into a little O. It's a pretty sight that has you drooling, tits pressed against him as he practically purrs . And so, you pull him closer; nails dancing underneath his shirt, whispering filth into the shell of his ear. You're close, grinding into him like the push and pull of waves, merely waiting for the crescendo of orgasm to take you out to sea. 

"I'm close, Miguel." All he can do is hum, pulling you closer. "Fuck, I feel so good. You make me feel so good."

"Yeah? " He asks, needy in a way you haven't quite seen before. 

"M'gonna cum," You nod. "...because of you, baby. You did good. So good. Shit, ohh –g-god–" 

You clamp down on him, gushing around him with shaky legs. And Miguel is good; patient as he watches you fuck yourself through the aftermath. When it finally slows, he slips out with an obscene squelch clamping a hand to the base of his cock and leaning heavily on the counter. 

"It's okay," As if on cue, you kneel in front of him as best you can, tugging down your shirt to expose collarbone and the swell of tits. 

Miguel growls, grunting as he splatters thick cum across your chest, pumping his poor cock through it. 

He wouldn't have lasted a second longer, not with that smile across your face; smug as you swipe fingers across your chest and lick up the mess he's made. 

He's sighing, tucking himself back into gray sweats and pulling you up with a hand in yours; grumbling as you absentmindedly follow him to the sofa. 

You're leaning back onto the arm of the tattered material, and he settles to sit so your legs lay in his lap. He's frowning, again, and it makes you giggle, still licking up what's left on your fingers. 

He rolls his eyes, tapping a spot on your chin. A fat glob of his cum, dripping from your jaw to your neck. You miss it on the first swipe, and he gets impatient on the second, grabbing your hands and clambering over you. He drags the flat of his tongue to your skin, licking it up for you – and your eyes go wide. That… that felt good. 

You giggle at the sensation, so attuned to your roommate that you can hear it: his eyes clattering into the back of his skull, as he rolls his eyes a second time. 

"Is that okay?" He says it into the skin, pausing over a particularly tender spot. "Not too far?" 

"Feels nice, Mig." You sigh, content. Sun streams in on a lazy morning, and you're sore in the kind of way that feels good; fucked out and blissful. 

You lean into it, and then he sucks , teeth clashing onto the skin as he gives you a hickey and the juncture of your jaw. You wriggle, and he pins you down with one big hand holding down your arm, nipping and kissing and soothing it with a flash of tongue. This time he smiles, wrapping around your middle, tugging down your shirt to decorate your chest with hickeys. You play with his hair, wrapping soft curls between your fingers. 

You spend a little too long like that; curved into him, spines moulded to the shape of each other. It feels nicer than either of you would care to admit; the pretense of sex wrapped around you both like a thin veil. Before he leaves, Miguel indulges himself just this once; head on your chest and sinking into those arms wrapped around him. You smell like coffee and sweat and Autumn, somehow. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, for a bit longer. 

Miguel is okay. He's doing just fine. 

_

_

-

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

[elli3luvs]

GOOD GIRL READER X DEALER! ELLIE

a/n: thank you guys for the attention the first part got! seeing your reblogs and comments make me super happy haha tomorrow i will be working on all of the requests i've gotten :)))) hope you guys enjoy this part as well

cw: the slightest smidge of smut ever lol

ellie wasn't too sure how you managed to encapture her like this

studying was like a negative priority in her life, yet here she was at the library on a saturday, watching you scribble notes in your journal

since the time at the party, the two of you have been basically inseparable

she accompanied you when you wanted to go to the mall to get a pretzel

and you followed her around when she roamed around campus

she had a physics final in a couple of weeks but she didn't really care about that right now

seeing your concentrated look was far more important

she was looking at you when a guy came up behind her, tapping her shoulder

you look up from your journal at the sudden intrusion

"you selling right now?" ellie grimaced at this

"nah," she picks up a pen that she hadn't even realized was near her, "not right now." she looks down at her notebook hoping the guy got the hint

you smile at her as she looks up at you through her eyebrows

you don't know if it's because of your demeanor but since you have been hanging out ellie doesn't sell to people around you

she always rolled her eyes when the person would leave too

spouting a "fucking people, man" or "can't they see i'm with you?"

you guys were taking it slow until you decided you had enough of it

the two of you were sitting on her shitty little couch that was half broken from god knows what watching some sort of sci-fi movie from the 80s

she would laugh at the visual effects

you laughed at how nerdy she was to actually get enjoyment out of this

your heart was so full anytime you hung out with her

all you wanted to do was flaunt her around campus

that's when you decided to full send it

"do you want to be my girlfriend?"

ellie was laughing before you said that but her smile dropped almost instantly

you shifted your eyes around the room nervously awaiting her answer

it was like she malfunctioned for a split second

she looked at you with a look you couldn't quite place, "really?" she whispered

you nodded, "yeah."

"oh, thank god." she relaxed into the couch, hand grabbing your lower thigh and squeezing

she wanted to ask you that weeks ago but didn't know how you would've felt

she was actually the perfect girlfriend

you could always expect her standing outside your class to fetch you, even when it was an 8 am

she may have been wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with her hair literally sticking every which way

but she was still there

she would knock on your door randomly

when you opened it she would be leaning against the doorframe with a goofy smile, "wanna makeout in my car?"

there would be times you would show up to her room unannounced and it would be hazy with smoke

she would clamber around like you were her parents catching her, "fuck, babe. sorry!" her bong would be shifted to the side as she sprayed whatever was next to her to try and get rid of the smell

you didn't have to heart to tell her it rarely did anything

there were times you would be cuddling and someone would pound at the door

she would groan, getting up with an apologetic glance

she would grab the wooden box under her bed, taking it to the door to have a hushed conversation with whoever was on the other side

she would always come back with the money in hand and a smile gracing her face

"want mcdonalds?"

the first time you guys ever had sex she was so gentle

you noticed her hands shaking a little bit as she caressed you

obviously, you didn't say anything, but it was the cutest thing ever to you

she whispered the sweetest words to you as she continued to touch you so gently

"you are the best thing that could've happened to me," she kissed at your neck, "thank you for going to that one party."

it made your heart swell

there was one time she was knuckles deep in you, making you moan and writhe around under her

when a loud knock came at the door

she continued her ministrations, not caring until it got louder and louder

"els! you got anything?" the voice yelled from the other side

she continued fingering you, yelling a gruff, "no! fuck off!"

"you should," you let out a moan as her fingers circled your clit, "sell to him. it's important."

she scoffs, "no one is as important as you, pretty girl."

ellie was so good to you

she always put your happiness and comfort above anyone or anything else

you were so undeniably happy with her

[jackhues]

mango dragon refresher - quinn hughes

notes: this is part of @wyattjohnston's summer exchange fic, and written for the lovely @lam-ila! i'm horrible at writing angst with happy ending, but i felt inspired to write something like this for quinn!! i really hope you like it <33

warnings: accidents, injuries, angst with happy ending, kinda hurt/comfort

gif not mine!

in hindsight, driving with a broken tail light wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve made.

your mother had taught you years ago that everything you learn when it comes to driving was meant to be applied whenever you were behind the wheel, for the rest of your life. and for years, you’d taken her words to heart, never once stepping out of line.

but you were hungry, and out of milk, and you’d already taken the cereal out into your bowl, and quinn had taken the working car to practice.

you didn’t think it was going to be a big deal, especially since the grocery store was less than five minutes away. besides, you saw people driving with things worse than broken tail lights all the time. how bad could it be?

convincing yourself it was no big deal, you got in your car and headed off to the store. you’d made it there fine, not even a scratch. but on your way back, the car in front of you slammed on their brakes suddenly. you’d stopped as well, just in time to avoid ramming into the rear bumper. 

but with your tail light broken, the car behind you had nearly no warning as he drove into you. you felt it all happen in two times speed: your head hitting the steering, hard, as cars around you honked their horns and manoeuvred away from the crash.

i guess this is why they say mother always knows best, you thought drowsily, the world going dark around you.

-

quinn was feeding his teammates pucks when the assistant coach, nolan, called him over. 

he’d been in a serious conversation with one of the trainers for a few minutes, before he motioned for quinn to come over.

“ooh, hughesy’s in trouble,” some of the guys snickered, messing with him.

quinn rolled his eyes as he held back a laugh, nodding at nolan and the trainer. the trainer nodded back, before rushing away quickly.

quinn didn’t think much of it — the trainers always had lots of work to do.

“what’s going on?” he asked.

nolan motioned over his shoulder, “let’s go talk about it, c’mon.”

now quinn began to worry, almost as if he really was in trouble. during the short walk to his office, a hundred different thoughts flew around quinn’s brain — yet, not one of them explained why he might be in trouble.

i’m a full-grown adult, quinn thought to himself. how the hell am i going to be in trouble? what would i even be in trouble for?

as nolan motioned for him to take a seat, quinn’s thoughts took another direction. he thought of bo horvat, and how he’d been given some terrible news in the very same way.

“wait, am i getting traded?” he asked suddenly.

nolan’s eyes widened, “no, no. we’re not trading you, that’s not why you’re here.”

“then why am i here?” quinn asked. “is there — is it something bad? did i mess up?”

nolan looked resigned, as if the last thing he wanted to do was sit here and tell quinn… whatever it was he wanted to say. but he took a deep breath and forced it out.

“it’s y/n,” he said finally. “your fiancée. she’s been involved in a car accident and has been admitted to the hospital.”

the world seemed to stop for quinn.

y/n, in a car accident. 

he didn’t believe it. you were the safest driver he ever met, there was no way you could be involved in a — the broken tail light, he realized suddenly.

for some reason, you must’ve taken the car and went out to do something, either forgetting about or dismissing the broken tail light.

quinn internally began to curse himself. 

he should’ve woken up half an hour earlier and carpooled with elias when his teammate had asked. that way there’d have been a working car at home, and you wouldn’t have been in the hospital.

“quinn?” nolan asked hesitantly, snapping him out of his spiral. “are you okay?”

“where — which hospital is she in?” he got up. “i want to go see her, i’m leaving to go see her.”

nolan stopped him by placing a hand on his arm, “i’ll drive you. you’re in no state to be operating a vehicle. go get changed, and we’ll head out to see her.”

quinn wanted to argue, to tell him to take him right now, but he saw the determined look in nolan’s eyes. quinn knew him long enough to know there would be no arguing with him. 

he rushed off to the locker room, changing in record time, before meeting nolan in his car.

“let’s go,” nolan said, driving quinn.

the car ride was tense, with quinn stuck between wanting to ask nolan more information, and at the same time not wanting to know anything and just hope for the best. 

his brain compromised by thinking of the worst scenarios imaginable.

“breathe,” nolan said as they arrived at a red light. “she’s gonna be fine, you just need to calm down.”

quinn took a deep breath, resisting the urge to snap at nolan. you wouldn’t want him to get mad at someone who’s only trying to help.

nolan took a right, arriving at the hospital entrance.

“head on up,” nolan told him. “i’ll park and come.”

quinn didn’t need to be told twice, as he bolted out of the car and towards one of the receptionists.

“my fiancée,” he rushed out. “she was — she was just brought in here because of a car accident. y/n, y/n y/ln.”

“one second,” the receptionist said, searching through her files. “you’re her emergency contact. quinn hughes, correct?”

“that’s me,” he nodded.

the receptionist nodded, “she’s in the emergency room, currently being operated on. she needs stitches, and is being checked for a dislocated shoulder.”

quinn’s heart felt like it would stop in his chest.

“where — where is she?” he stuttered.

the receptionist gave him a look of sympathy, pointing him towards the direction of the room. quinn ran down the halls, coming to a halt outside the room.

on the other side of those doors, you were in pain. you might’ve been under anaesthesia, but after everything, quinn didn’t want to think of you being in pain.

doctors, nurses, patients, and even visitors walked around him. for once, no one was asking for an autograph — only giving him looks of sympathy.

-

“mango dragon fruit refresher for quinn!” the staff called out.

quinn walked numbly to the counter, taking the drink, before heading upstairs. in his other hand, he held his own coffee — which is pretty much what he’d been living off for the past day.

there were three or four mango dragon refreshers in your room, melted or in the trash. quinn bought one for you each time he went to get his coffee, just in case you were waiting for him.

the accident itself was quite bad, to the point where the doctors were saying it was lucky that you didn’t sustain any long-term injuries.

from what quinn had been told, you were suffering from a minor concussion, needed six stitches across your forehead, needed twelve stitches on your hand, and had dislocated your left shoulder.

the stitches would come out eventually, and the concussion would be fine within a few weeks. but your shoulder would need to remain in a sling for three to four weeks, and you’d be needing physiotherapy afterwards.

quinn was just waiting for you to wake up.

you’d been out for over twenty-four hours, quinn not leaving your side except to get your drinks. nolan had brought him some food, which was in a bag in the corner of your room. he just wasn’t hungry.

quinn entered your room silently, mango dragon refresher in hand as he tried not to disturb you.

“is that for me?” your voice caused him to startle.

quinn turned towards you, seeing you awake and sitting up in the hospital bed. words failed him as he stared at you, trying to force something — anything coherent — out of his mouth.

“you — you’re — are you—”

“hi,” you gave him a tired smile, patting at your bedside.

quinn was there immediately.

“you’re awake,” he whispered, hesitantly reaching out for you.

“and you look like you haven’t slept in days,” you responded, taking his hand in yours. you leaned into his touch, savouring the feeling of him next to you. “are you sure you’re okay?”

quinn stared at you, shaking his head to himself in disbelief. “you’re the one in the hospital bed, and you’re asking if i’m okay? i should be asking you that!”

“i’m fine,” you answered. “a little battered, but i’m alright. you on the other hand, you look like you’ve been through hell.”

quinn rolled his eyes, but it was true. he felt like it too. sitting by your side, all night, not knowing when you were going to wake up — it drove him crazy.

“i’m just glad you’re okay,” quinn choked up, pressing a kiss to your intertwined hands.

he’d spent the last day thinking of the worst possibilities, torturing himself. seeing you here, smiling and happy, it made him realize that he couldn’t lose you. 

you smiled, leaning forward to place your forehead against his. 

“me too,” you whispered.

[cherriesformatt]

maneater || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: he wish he never met you at all

warnings: slightly smut, broken heart, taking advantages, drinking, drugs, parties, alcohol

word count: 906

a/n: after watching Tara’s collab with Vinnie I finally finished this draft I had sitting here for a while. I don't think so I like it but I will let you judge.

🍒

The music in the house was so loud that I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. Me and my friends ended up in some kind of influencers house party. As we would every weekend for free buzz and drugs.

I knew he is going to be here. He would because he knew I am going to be here. I didn't care that much to find him because he always find me first.

I knew that he liked me. He was sweet, don't get me wrong. But he just wasn't for me and I wasn't looking for anyone at the moment. But the thought that he came to every party just to see me even if he despised attending them. Poor boy. But I just wanted him all for myself every time.

I had some shots with some people I met for the first time. I also did say hello and smoked with Jett and Vinnie. That was their house. I still don't know how Sofie manage to became friends with Vinnie Hacker but I did not care too much. Their parties were really good and people always had good shit here.

The moment my body was moving to the music in the middle of the giant living room I felt his piercing blue eyes on me. Dancing made alcohol kind of evaporate from my body.

"Matthew…" I said when I felt arms around me.

I smiled when smell of his nice cologne came to my senses. His big hands rested on my hips and he gently kissed my neck.

"Do you have anything for me?" I asked turning around to face him. He didn't do drugs. But I did and he knew that sometimes they worked magic for us.

"Open your mouth pretty girl…" He said and I did as he said.

He placed small, pink, round drug on my tongue. I looked him in the eyes while I swallow it and turned around and started dancing close to his body. He looked great. He had black pants and black long sleeve shirt with his rings and chain. He just does something to me when he wears all black.

I was as well wearing black. The mini dress that he sent me this week with flowers and expensive wine. I never asked for any of that but I might have an opinion around town. And who I am going to be to deny all of that.

I wish I liked him the same way he liked me. But I didn't. He was a great guy, he had everything. Money, looks, skills. Oh…his fingers and mouth worked magic. But I just couldn't help that I did not like him more than a friend. I was broken. I felt like I should just end stuff with him. Every time I told my self it is going to be the last time. But I just simply couldn't resist him. His brothers hated my guts. I never actually spoke with them buy I knew. I knew from how they all looked at me.

When we danced I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"What's new Matty B?" I asked and smiled.

I felt that the drugs were starting to hit because when I looked at his eyes I released how much I craved him.

"I've been busy but I was looking forward to see you today…" He answered.

I smiled even bigger and took his hand in mine and dragged him away from the crowd.

As soon as we had some privacy I pinned his body to the wall and kissed him. He was a little surprised but he quickly moved us so my back was hitting the wall and he's fingers tightened on my hips. Because of course he needed to be the one in control.

I tangled my hand into his hair pulling him even closer to me. He was a great kisser. He made my heat up just by this simple thing.

"Let's go…" He pulled away from me and he lead me out to his car.

The drive was short. He took me to some house. It was very fancy.

"I rented it for the nigh…" He looked at me and my eyed widened.

"Matt you're the best" I said and jumped out of the car.

"Everything for my girl"

My girl..

We came inside and the house was very modern. The fire place was on and music was playing from the speakers. My favorite music.

Champagne was cooling in ice and right next to it were chocolate covered strawberries and roses. Also my favorites.

He pulled me close to him and kissed me again. I let him do everything he wanted.

I let him fed me the strawberries and drink champagne from my body. I left him go as many times as he wanted to the point that I couldn't speak or walk. I let him run us a bath and lay me in bed next to him. I let him kissed me goodnight because I knew it was also a kiss goodbye. But he didn't know.

Maybe I was a maneater. I did take a lot from that boy. But I wasn't worth him. He was too good to be true and I already broke his heart many times.

When he woke up next morning I wasn't there. And I made sure I would never see those beautiful ocean eyes ever again.

[lord-leclerc]

fate or destiny? (charles leclerc)

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary: inspired by ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine. I did change a few concepts though.(i didn't include the last part of the song because im going through writer's block and couldn't find a way to join those two plots.)

warnings: fluff, nsfw, mentions of nudity, mentions of sex, angst if you squint.

a/n: first time writing for a real person, please bear with me. also lemme know if you want a part two(please say yes coz it will either be insta au or dad!charles ;))

sighing at the ceiling for the hundredth time in the past thirty minutes, you felt bored out of your mind. Looking around the room, you noticed the little things that you never had before-the plaster on the wall beside the door was worn off, your bedside table had a little dent on the corner, the curtain had a coffee stain from a time you couldn't remember. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion, every waking second a seemingly excruciating long moment. You felt numb. No coherent thoughts running through your mind, you stood up. These vacations, although peaceful, were ruining your peace, your existence being a whirlwind of boredom. Walking around the room, you stopped at the window overlooking the city. You looked out the window and saw you car in the driveway and shrugged-might as well go get groceries.

-

"Its alright", said the man with a thick accent, picking up your fallen bag.

You only shifted to Monaco last summer and communicating with people with your broken french was hard, yet you still managed to get your work done somehow.

stepping out of the store with hands full of bags, you bumped into a hard chest, apologies spewing out of your mouth like water out of a faucet. "I am so sorry!", you said.

"Want me to help you carry these?", the green eyed boy asked, noticing the amount of bags you had in your hands.

Not wanting to cause anymore troubles for him, you politely denied.

"But you already have so much in your hands, it's alright, just tell me where your car is."

Realising he wouldn't budge, you lead the way to your car and he helped you put all your bags in your car.

"Thank you so much.", you said with a smile.

"you're welcome, ?", he said in a suggesting tone, wanting to catch your name.

"Oh right! I am Y/N.", you extended your hand.

"Its nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Charles.", he shook your hand, trying not to hold it for too long because of how soft your skin was.

As mesmerised as him, you blurted out your next words without any second thoughts.

"Hey, how about I get you a coffee? both as a thank you drink and an apology?"

One look at his dimpled smile and you knew, you knew you were doomed.

that one coffee date turned into two, then three and now four. Sitting on one of the benches in the local garden, you both enjoyed the slightly gloomy yet happy weather. The cool wind brushed against your skins, making you shiver which in turn made Charles tuck you under his arm, your head on his shoulder. You sat there in a comfortable silence, feeling like having known each other for an eternity even though it had only been a few weeks. You both embraced the warmth radiating from one another's body, that is, until you felt the cool touch of the water droplets against your warm flesh. You both sat there, not caring about the rain, just melting in each other's company until the rain became too heavy.

Your giggles echoed through the now empty garden as you ran, hand in hand with Charles, towards the gazebo in the center of the place. You were both dripping with water from head to toe by the time you reached the gazebo, but the rain was so heavy that water still found its way to you from the little spaces in between the grills of the roof and the pillars. Deciding you won't be able to do anything about it now, you just shook your heads and chuckled. Still hand in hand, Charles pulled you to him, trailing his other hand down your arm and interlacing his fingers with your own, he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. Both of you were breathing heavily. Maybe it was because you ran here or maybe it was because of the sudden drop in the temperature. Or, maybe, it was due to your sheer closeness. Charles trailed his hand back up your arm, up your neck and finally buried his fingers in your hair , making you inhale sharply. Your eyes fluttered close as he leaned your head back to take a better look at your face. To him, you looked ethereal. Cheeks a rosy shade from the cold, hair all wet and in all places, eyes closed with little puffs of air leaving your lips, oh those lips. How badly he wanted to taste them, to feel those lips against his own and swallow every next breath that leaves them. He leaned in ever more, to the point where you could feel your breath mingling with his, making your insides feel all tingly. As he brushed his lips against yours, she gasped, bringing your hands up to his sides and fisting his hoodie in them with your eyes still closed.

"Can I kiss you?", he asked in a whisper, making you open your eyes instantly.

Staring into his green hues, you nodded. He looked down at your mouth again, which flooded your stomach with butterflies and anticipation as you watched him.

"Words, Y/N. I need words."

You sucked a deep breath in and nodded again, "yes."

"Yes, what?", his lips brushed against yours with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Yes, you may kiss me, Charles."

He didn't need to be asked twice. Like a starving man, he connected his mouth with yours, swallowing your gasp. He kissed you with his entire being and you returned the kiss with the same burning passion. You kissed under the rain for what felt like forever before finally breaking apart for some air, making him chase your lips again before shaking his head and chuckling, resting his head on yours again. He just couldn't get enough of you.

As for you? You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, you knew he wouldn't be able to give you as much time and you knew all the things that came along with being the girlfriend of a celebrity and a sportsperson, but that didn't stop you. You were willing to give this a chance, to give him a chance because you couldn't get enough of him either.

-

The room was a mess of muffled gasps and moans and tangled bodies and ripped clothes.

"Charles", you gasped, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he mouth trailed kisses down your body. Your hands in his hair while his were on your hips, to keep you stable. He made his way up your body again and whispered, "oui, mon ange?", kissing the spot just behind your ear.

As he hovered over you, you looked into his eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck before placing your lips against his.

"Please.", you said and again, he didn't need to be asked twice.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed on you. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his forehead before turning the both of you over so you were now laying on top of him and traced circles on his chest while placing small kisses against his neck.

"Are you okay, ma belle?", he whispered before placing a kiss on your head. You just hummed in response, too tired to even say something in response. Charles lazily rubbed his hand up and down your back while gently placing his lips against the skin of your shoulder, lulling you to sleep. As you laid there in his arms, he was the only one you could feel, the only one you could think about, the only one you could hear. He had enveloped you completely- body, mind, heart and soul. When he was with you, nothing else mattered-heck, you didn't want anything else to matter. It was him and only him and you would do anything to keep it that way.

Your mouth itched to say all this to him, to say those three words and you would've, but you didn't wanna ruin the moment by saying something he might not feel. Perhaps it was too early, since it had only been one and a half month but loving is something you can't control. You don't see the time or place, it just happens. You laid there, tangled with him, your body and heart at peace but your mind was full of chaos, full of all the words you ached to say to him, but perhaps words wouldn't be enough, so you did one thing which you hoped would convey everything you were feeling to him- you kissed him and he returned it with the same passion.

Both you and Charles were very happy that you both went to get groceries that day. Call it fate or destiny, you wouldn't be here if you hadn't been bored out of your damn mind that day. As horrific as it had been, you were thankful you bumped into the green eyed stranger and dropped your bags that day. Because now you don't know how to live without said stranger and couldn't imagine a life without him.

"I'll miss you, mon ange.", he said while pulling up to your apartment.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic self.

"You'll see me tomorrow, Charles."

"Yeah, but tomorrow is so far. Comment vais-je vivre sans toi jusque-là?, he sighed. how will i live without you till then.

"I don't think you remember but I don't understand french to that extent so I would really like if you translate it for me."

"Nothing, belle.", he smiled before taking your hand and kissing your knuckles one by one.

You tried to pout but failed miserably. All you were capable of doing around this man was smile.

As the car came to a stop, your mind fumbled with the various possibilities of what would happen if you say those three words. Would he say it back? Would he get upset? What if he doesn't say anything? Fuck it-what will happen, will happen. He is going for 2 weeks straight this time and you'll loose your mind keeping it to yourself till then.

"Charles?"

"Oui? Is everything okay?", he asked, picking up the nervousness in your voice.

"No, Charles. Everything is not okay! How could it be when you're by my side? You make me so nervous, yet so happy. You're the only one I think about all day, the only one I can feel, I can hear. You make me a better version of myself and- and I feel like spending every waking moment of my day with you! I've never felt this strongly for anyone before and it scares me but I'll loose my damn mind if I don't get this out of my system today but I-", you paused your frustrated rant and took a deep breath before averting your gaze from the window behind his head to his green orbs.

"Je t'aime, Charles.", your voice barely a whisper.

He just looked at you. And for a moment, you were afraid. Afraid that maybe he'll just smile and say nothing, or maybe he will just tell you to go or maybe he will say that things are moving too fast or-

Out of all the things you expected, him grabbing your neck and yanking you forward was definitely not it. You gasped as he connected his lips with yours in a hungry kiss. He was rough, wanting to swallow all of you. Tongues wrestling and teeth clashing, he kissed you like he never had before and you struggled to keep up with him.

"Je t'aime tellement, mon amour. You have no idea how much. I've been itching to say these words to you but I didn't want to scare you off.", he whispered against your lips.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to find him already looking at you. You chuckled at the irony. How you were afraid to tell him only to find out he was just as scared.

"What?", he smiled.

You just shook you head and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Come to the race with me?", he asked. "After this, I don't think I'll survive two weeks without you."

You happily nodded your head, "Thought you'd never ask.". He just chuckled and kissed you once again.

"You were wrong, by the way.", he said making you furrow your brows in confusion.

"You do know how to speak french and it sounds even more beautiful coming out of that pretty mouth of yours.", he winked while staring at your lips.

You slapped his chest, "Flirt." He grabbed your hand and held it against his chest.

"But I'm your flirt", he wiggled his eyebrows making you blush.

"I wanna fuck you so bad.", he said against your neck.

"Alors qu'attendez-vous?", you decided to put your french lessons to some use. then what are you waiting for?

He bit your neck and cursed under his breath. Suddenly, he got out of the car and moved around it to open your door. He helped you out of it and grabbed your hand before hurriedly making his way towards the elevator of your apartment. As soon as the elevator reached your floor, he was dragging you out of it and towards your door, demanding for you to open it. The moment you closed the door behind you, you were pinned to the wall beside the door and it was on. It would be a long night.

[beamtori]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

demon (in human form)!ji changmin x afab!reader

it's a silly thing that brings you both to intimacy, but the intimacy is never silly.

3.0k words, smut (minors dni), incredibly soft sex, talks abt sex/dicks lol (if u can't talk abt it, then don't do it!), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it bro), penetrative sex, fingering, low-key body worship (f.receiving), so much kissing, pet name (sweetheart), mentions of a broken wrist and scars?

a/n: this is an extension to my fic night terrors on my main! there are a couple refs from the fic, but the established dynamic is a huge turnaround for me in terms of writing for changmin if u haven't read night terrors yet LMAO anyways, for me and @mosviqu ily bar!! <3

CHANGMIN HAD GROWN USED TO your random questions of curiosity. There was, after all, so much you didn't know about his world, and for the most part, he was perfectly fine divulging information to you and being honest. He cared about you, after all. Loved you, even. It was just what he felt around and about and for you.

“How do demons have sex?”

He nearly snorted water through his nose.

You glanced over at him innocently from where you were perched on the hotel bed, your phone connected to its charger discarded on the nightstand.

He cleared his throat, capping the water bottle and setting it aside so he wouldn't choke again. “Sorry?” He sputtered, thumping his fist against his chest.

Your eyelashes fluttered and you replied airily, “Do you have sex the way humans do? Like… vaginal penetration or…? Am I making sense? Do you even have a—”

“Yn, I have a dick,” he cut in, then made a face. “Why are we having this conversation again?”

The two of you were holed up in a hotel several hours’ ride from Moonstone Creek. You were currently on your way to meet one of Changmin's clients about a missing lucky witch's cauldron. Instead of shacking up at a motel, you insisted on staying at a nicer hotel for once. Screw saving money this time; your ass deserved a break after sitting in his car for however long. Maybe you should invest in a butt pad…

You shrugged, shifting your position so you sat at the foot of the bed with your feet dangling over the edge. You held your dominant wrist with the other hand—a month had passed since it had been shattered, and though almost completely healed, it was still a little tender. “I was just thinking,” you said. “Is it like a human d—”

“It's a penis, Yn,” he deadpanned. “You've seen one, right?”

Your skin warmed. “Of course, I have,” you sputtered. “I was just curious about your—” You stopped yourself. “That sounds wrong.”

Changmin arched a brow at you, braiding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table across from you. “Supernatural creatures do have needs, too, you know. Sex isn't just a human thing.”

“I know that,” you shot back. Sex definitely wasn't exclusive to humans. “When was the last time you had sex?"

“I don't understand where this is coming from.”

“Are you a virgin?”

A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I think it's impossible for a demon to be a virgin in any sense,” he said, head tilted to the side, tongue tracing his slight smile. It was funny for him to think about, really.

His eyes fixated on you again. “Are you a virgin?”

“Me? No.” Even when you were working your ass off for your accounting degree, you managed to find time to socialize with somebody. It hadn't been that special, really, but the guy had been decent and not an asshole. By your limited scope, that was as okay a time as any.

The room descended into silence.

You could tell he was thinking about something with the crease between his brows and the muscle in his jaw twitching. You didn't know what it was, but you could read that much.

“So why haven't we had sex yet?” was the question that popped out of your mouth next. It wasn't necessarily directed for him to answer; it was more so a… thinking-aloud situation… right…

But by the surprise that flickered across his face, he was going to answer it anyway. “I—I don't know. I guess…” He scratched the side of his head. “I never really thought about it.”

“Oh.”

You could see the regret as soon as he said it.

He brushed a hand through his hair, stepping over to you and kneeling in front of you. His eyes fluttered closed for a second before opening again. “I didn't mean it—like that. I just mean that so much has happened that it's the last thing on my mind. I didn't want it to come off like I only wanted that from you.”

“I know you don't,” you said, leaning onto your knees to lower your face slightly toward his. “But we both have needs, don't we?”

“Are you saying you're in the mood?” He asked.

“I mean—I was looking out for both of us.” You sat up again, leaning back onto your hands, putting more emphasis on your nondominant one. He followed you up and stood between your legs, knee pressing down onto the mattress to lean over you and collect you in his arms.

You both tumbled onto the sheets, your face pressed to his chest and his chin tucked over your head, legs tangled together. “I don't know,” you muttered, “it's been a good month, and I guess I was just…” Insecure. “I’m being ridiculous though,” you laughed the thought away, “every couple goes at their own pace.”

His fingers grasped your chin and pulled your eyes to meet his. The eye contact was strangely intimate with him as it always was. “Yn,” he said lowly, “you’re not being ridiculous.”

He rolled his body over yours, arms bracketed around your head with your noses a breath apart. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in earnest, searching your face.

You nodded, eyes wide. “Yes.”

His hand curled around the back of your head as he lowered his mouth over yours. Your nose slotted beside his, and you raised your upper body to hold onto him and press yourself all the more close. You sighed, his tongue pressing into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

There had been a few other times you'd kissed before. There was no rush with this one. He took his sweet time with you, kissing you languidly, devouring you whole. His limbs wrapped around you like a python so you were unable to leave his grasp—as if you wanted to.

When you broke apart, you were flushed and his breathing was heavy. He brushed the hair from your face, your eyes glazed as you stared up at him. “I've never been intimate with someone I care so much about,” he confessed, his voice gravelly from the kiss. Your lips parted for his thumb as he dragged it over your bottom lip.

“Me neither,” you told him. You reached up to run your hand through his hair. “Is it scary?”

“The way I feel about you?” He wrestled down a swallow. “I'm terrified.” Terrified to break you, to lose you, to hurt you. Everything in between.

It wasn't always that you were given the privilege of seeing him so open and vulnerable. He had slowly become better around you, especially around you, but there was still a few things you had to get past. It was okay though; he just needed time. That much you understood. This was new to you, too.

“I'm nervous,” you admitted quietly, “but I trust you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed. “I trust you, too.”

Changmin brought his lips to the corner of your mouth, then to the underside of your jaw. Your fingers buried themselves into his hair as he trailed his lips down the column of your neck as if to taste every inch of your skin.

Your heart palpitated in your chest and you held him close, neck craned to encourage him. A moan slipped from your mouth when you felt his teeth graze your pulse. The rough pad of his tongue swiped over the mark he left.

It was strange to think of how trust and love worked. It would be so easy to rip your throat out, but instead, he was here kissing you.

His fingers danced along the bottom hem of your shirt in silent question, and you guided his hand beneath the fabric and along your bare skin. You shuddered as his fingers trailed up your side and reached the edge of your bra.

He raised his lips up to meet yours again, eyes half lidded.

Your shirt came up and over your head, bra clasp unsnapping behind your body until your top half was bare before him.

And he looked at you under him with an expression you couldn't discern immediately. It was that thing he always did, the look he had in his eyes when he stared at you, but this time felt slightly different.

You shied away into yourself, one of your arms coming to lie across your chest. “What?” You let out a small laugh.

He swallowed, meeting your eyes. “I…” Changmin took your arm and brought your once-shattered wrist to his mouth. He pinned your arm above your head then, so he could see you. “Nothing, I just—you’re beautiful.”

Your resolve softened. “You can touch me.”

He kissed you again then, softly, one palm enclosing around your left breast. You shivered, your heart throwing itself up against its confines so it might reach the hand it wanted to be held in.

Changmin rolled one perked nipple between his fingers and you arched your chest up into his hand.

“I never say it—” He said, tongue swiping over your lips again for any and every taste of you, “—as much as you deserve to hear it.”

His lips met your pulse again, mouth trailing down your clavicle, to the pendant resting on your sternum. The pulsing of the scarlet mirrored your own racing heartbeat and gave your state of mind clean away. Every touch of his lips, lap of his tongue, nip of his teeth along your skin felt like he was tracing your outline and committing you to memory. Every inch of you, loved and worshiped and acknowledged. Not his to own, but his to cherish.

Changmin's shirt came off next, exposing a toned upper body marked in faded white scars here and there. Oh, to kiss each mark upon his body—an endeavor for another time. The twin to your necklace swung over you from around his neck as he returned himself to your embrace.

“You're beautiful, too—d’you know that?” You murmured to him between the breaths between kisses.

“Only if you show me.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Deal.”

You felt his mouth curl up in a similar gesture, his arms wrapping around your waist and pressing the length of his body against yours. His weight was a comfort, kissing him was a dream.

Changmin tugged the waistline of your pants down, fingers hooking in the elastic of your underwear, then pausing. “This okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, and you helped kick your bottoms off and away. He was swift to follow suit, the belt of his buckle clinking together as he slid it off, then his jeans, and boxers. You could see the outline of his cock strain through the fabric before his aching, reddened length slapped against his lower stomach.

“Would it ruin the mood if I said that probably isn't what your demon form dick looks like?” You asked cheekily as he clambered back over you.

Changmin rolled his eyes. “I'm tryna be romantic and all you can talk about is—mmmph!”

You silenced him by dragging his mouth back down to yours. He melted into you, weaving his hand between your bodies so he could drag his fingers through your lower lips. You jolted at the feeling, your hips twitching in his direction in a silent plea.

He groaned low into your mouth, withdrawing as he circled his fingers through your arousal. “Is this all for me?” He asked, dipping a finger into your cunt. His thumb drew dizzying circles into your clit, and you swore you saw stars.

“Yeah, 's all for you,” you exhaled, earning you a searing kiss as he swallowed those words.

You pushed your hips against his hand, a pair of his thick fingers filling you up and curling against the sweet, gummy spot of your inner walls. It was as if he knew exactly where to find it, and knew exactly how much pressure would make you rocket up toward white-hot bliss.

You whimpered against his mouth as the tension in the pit of your stomach wound up tightly. “Changmin—”

“You close, sweetheart? Wanna see how pretty you look when you come.”

His thumb branded your clit with his fingerprint and drove you to insanity. Blood rushed in your ears, head spinning as he helped you over that crest. You cried out as you crashed and the steady pumping of his fingers coaxed you through it. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his shoulders, grounding you as your legs shook and toes curled.

His fingers maintained their steady pace as you came down from the high. You imagined you looked like something of a hot mess beneath him, but when your eyes fluttered up to meet his, you were struck by the tenderness in those dark irises.

When you could breathe evenly, he withdrew his fingers and collected your come to thumb over the pearl beaded at the tip of his cock. “Are you—was that okay?” He asked, his free hand thumbing your cheek. You saw his jaw twitch as he pumped his cock with his other hand, slickened with both of your arousal.

You gave a breathy laugh, and he nearly stopped at the sight of your smile. “Okay? That was—that was more than okay,” you said. “Ji Changmin, come here. Let me kiss you.”

It was something in the way he crushed his mouth against yours this time, one hand cradling the side of your face like you were all he ever wanted—the other coming up to grasp your side—that had your stomach doing flips. And if actions spoke louder than words, you wanted to believe that he was yelling them at you now. If he couldn't bring himself to scream them from the top of a building, this would be enough.

Your nose gently bumped against his. “Can I do something for you?”

He replied lowly between kisses, “Another time. Just… let me do this for you. It'll be enough for me.”

You melted in his hold, as if he didn't make you a fuzzy-chested, dizzy-headed mess all the time.

You felt him nudge your opening, and you locked your hands around his neck. Slowly, you felt a delicious stretch as he pushed into you. Changmin groaned into your neck, the sound making you arch yourself into him further. His voice alone sent you careening toward your own climax, it was so sensual.

Once he sat in you to the hilt, hips locked against hips, he lingered to give you a moment to get comfortable. The girth of him filled you up delectably, the pain only the undertone to pleasure.

He raised his head out of the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah—” you nodded, “—I’m good.”

He returned the gesture, biting his lip, then swooping down to kiss you again. “You're doing so well for me,” he murmured. “So warm, so tight. Fuck, you feel divine.”

He pulled himself out slightly, then gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Your hold tightened around him, a moan slipping from your lips. He held you as he continued this motion, a steady and strong rocking of his hips against yours, cock dragging along your walls in confident strokes.

He tucked his head back into your shoulder, lips pressing open mouthed kisses to your hot skin. You could feel the dampness between your thighs dribble down your legs, and you were gradually clambering back onto that hill with your stomach twisting in pleasure.

His labored breathing filled your ear, followed by his mouth—marks lovingly pressed into your flesh and whispered in your ear. You locked a leg around his slim waist and met his thrusts, the pacing quickening slightly as you both began approaching your highs.

Your voice came out choked and desperate. “Changmin, I'm…”

“Yeah, sweetheart; I got you.” Changmin pushed himself back up to hover over you for the last few thrusts, his lips pressed together tightly and sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. He slipped a hand between your bodies again and worked at your nub—and it was all you needed to be pushed over that edge again.

You cried out his name, fingernails burying themselves in his shoulders. You clenched down hard around him, breathing hard and ragged.

You thought you heard him groan out your name as his hips stilled and he came. You exhaled heavily, his body wrapping around yours again while you both caught your breath and descended from bliss.

He left a kiss just below your ear and you cupped the back of his head and shoulders to your body. “Fuck me,” he muttered, rolling your bodies to the side, legs sticky and tangled together.

“Didn't I just do that?” You mused.

He chuckled, moving his head to bump his nose against yours. “Yeah, guess so.” Changmin gazed at you then, eyes searching and searching and searching. You never asked what he was looking for; you always figured he'd one day be able to tell you.

He licked his lips and a crease formed between his brows. “Yn… Yn, I…”

The voice inside his throat remained trapped, the words on his tongue froze. You looked up at him, glassy-eyed and patient, the tilt of your lips so sweet and terribly beautiful. He'd never been at such a loss for words.

You moved forward to press a kiss to his mouth. “I know,” you said. Even if he couldn't say it yet, you always knew.

He swallowed, a moment of silence falling between the two of you. His heart careened against his chest, and he was sure if the amulet he wore now had his blood running through it, the damn thing would pound away like a galloping horse.

He wondered how he got so lucky.

But though he couldn't express it in words, he would always find a different way to reassure you that he felt the same. Changmin leaned forward and wordlessly captured your lips again, rolling you onto your back and pressing every last word he hadn't the guts to say into this searing kiss.

I love you, I adore you. Thank you. Be mine, in life and death; mortally and immortally. Every promise, he would strive to keep.

a/n: at one point, yes, i will write abt sex in his demon form LMAO what did u expect from me 🤣 anyways, this turned out to be around the length of an actual chapter of nt haha

m.list

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

ALL MINE. PART 2.

Pairing: Erik × OC (Courtney Rawlins)

Tags: Roleplay, Car Smut, Fall Rain

Part 1

"Damn it all!" Courtney hit the steering wheel furious. "Big ol' pothole in this damn country road... And in the rain of all things." Her car had broken down. She was now parked on the side of the road with her hazard lights on in a no cell service area. "Now what?"

A gentle tap came at her back window. A man who'd pulled over behind her was walking to her door. "I noticed your lights were dim, and your car was stalling. You look like you need a service."

"What's it to ya," Courtney leaned, her face nearly against the glass to eyeball him up close. The nerve of the nigga to be fine in a situation such as this. She cracked the window, her eyes narrowed. He was getting wet out there in his hoodie, his thumbs hitched in the pockets of his distressed denim jeans.

"I'm a mechanic."

"Are ya now?"

"Yes... Country ass. I gotta shop not too far from here," he gestured to the road ahead, "I stopped when I saw you were broken down, stuck out here in the rain."

"I'm not in the rain, sir, you are."

He smiled, long lashes fluttering. "Ok. Let me help you out."

Courtney muttered to herself as he briefly poked around under her hood, letting it back down and leaning into the now half down window with a sniff. "It's the alternator."

"Alternator?" She frowned. "Can't you jump it or something like in the movies?"

"I could jump something," he looked her up and down.

"Aht! You ain't getting in this, I assure you... I'm a LADY."

"K, Lady. Your alternator's dead. Fixing in it costs as much if not more than getting a new one. You're looking at $400-600."

"Where am I supposed to get that kinda money?" Courtney's hands flailed, hitting her knees in frustration.

"You're driving an Audi, you'll find it."

No one else had stopped, and Courtney couldn't call anyone. Not even data worked. He was a handsome guy. She squinted hard, appraising him. "Eh," she bit her nail, hesitating until he turned back to his car. She rolled the window down all the way.

"Wait! You're gonna leave me?"

"LADY... I'm getting soaked, and you don’t have any money."

"Not sitting around!"

"I accept other forms of payment." He shifted his nuts with a grab.

"Or you could help me for free," she murmured, her lip in a pout.

"In the next few seconds, I plan on getting back into my car and driving away."

"Alright, fine!"

"You change your mind?" He walked around to the ditch. "Unlock the door."

"Ugh... YOU'RE ALL WET," she rolled her eyes as he sat in her leather passenger seat. When he pulled down his jeans to free his dick, it was already pointed to the ceiling.

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Bring that neck." He palmed her head, bringing it down over his tip. Her body turned, knee in the seat.

She wrapped her fingers around his base and took in the first couple inches, getting it wet with her spit, spread with her tongue. Her tight lips sunk down, spreading the bubbling wetness down an inch from the base. Almost instantly, her head bobbed up and down, her hand on his thigh. The gluck-gluck-glucking of her wet mouth, the zoom of cars passing, and the sound of falling rain on the windshield filled the vehicle. He laid his head back, going hands-free until she took a gasping breath, spit stretching between her full lips. He palmed her head once more, growling lowly until he came.

It was on her tongue, a pool of opaque white that she swallowed easily.

"That's enough?"

"I'll tell you when it's enough. I'm a get you real right. Climb in the backseat."

Traffic had not stopped coming or shaking the car each time another vehicle whooshed by. Courtney watched through the back windshield as the wayward mechanic exposed her ass while it was tooted.

"See, I would've helped you for free, but for getting me soaked, I gotta charge you some way. This the best way." He wrapped a hand around her low natural bun, his pelvis thudding skin to skin with her ass. She braced herself against the back headrests, taking dick and throwing it back to her own pleasure. The back of her thighs were wet from him dragging along his wet clothes, but when he hit the right spot from the start like he knew her, she no longer cared.

"Men are pigs," she muttered, looking back. He grabbed her chin, tilting it back and holding on as he continued to stroke, the thud of their colliding bodies another sound on the rainy day.

"Erik," she breathed, caught in a rhythm of meeting his hips.

"Who?"

Her smile spread, her breath on his face. He sucked her top lip between his before kissing her and spitting a watery drop of his saliva into her open mouth. He then slapped her small ass and let her fall back forward to look through the rear window.

Again, she pushed her hips back, grinding until a police car rode by.

"Aight aight, let's stop," she dropped suddenly paranoid. She didn't want him to swing back or pull over to assist. Wasn't nothing really wrong with the car. Erik looked back and crawled back to the passenger seat, pulling his pants up fast as the cop pulled over ahead. Courtney did the same, jumping back in the driver's seat under the cover of the rain.

"He's not looking," Erik spotted, helping her move. "Relax," he whispered when Courtney's eyes were still big. "We ain't doing nothing wrong. It's not a crime to pull over."

"I know," she whispered back. "I got indica in the glove compartment!"

"Shit..." He popped the compartment open covering the baggie with the manual that was in there. He took out the registration just in case, closing the compartment as the cop reached the driver's window.

Courtney cracked it.

"Everything okay here? You break down?"

"Oh, no! I was having trouble but my boyfriend was behind me. I just had to press some button to get the alert off my screen."

"She's getting used to learning the controls," Erik added.

The cop nodded at him, understanding. It wasn't a lie. Courtney genuinely didn't know a damn thing about cars or what half them symbols on the dash meant. It was believable because it had already happened before.

"You're good now?"

"Yes. It was my mistake, but I've got it now," Courtney smiled. "Thank you."

"Alright," the officer left, returning to his car and eventually pulling off. Courtney sighed and looked to Erik. At the same time, they chuckled, and he got the weed out. "Consider this payment," he smiled, leaving the car before she could snatch him up. He got back in his own car and she kissed her teeth, waiting for the current queue of passing cars to pass before she pulled off too. He was right behind her in the rear view mirror.

"What," she answered on Bluetooth when his call popped up on her screen.

"That was fun. I like how you treated me like some dusty ass nigga and left me out in the rain like you ain't know my ass-"

"YOU SAID TO ACT LIKE I AIN'T KNOW YOU!"

"Nah, it's cool. Next time I'm a get you back! Just kidding... But you know me now, so don't be acting like that."

"I acted too well?" Courtney smirked, meeting his eye in her mirror. She laughed, not thinking that he would be looking.

"Nah, don't change it, it makes things interesting. What we doing next?"

"Hm," she thought. "I'll think about it."

"Can it involve me being dry?"

Her head rolled with silent laughter. "I'll think about it."

The End.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion

[gh0vtzb1og]

Easy darlin’. Masters of horror, the following series/ GRAVES X FTM READER

This au is based of ‘masters of horror’ episode 11 and ‘the following’.

Disclaimer; I will not be doing daily writing unless I know I can. Rn I am struggling to find a good pace, please give me grace.

Notes; kidnapping, knife/gun play, bondage, cuts, gagging, tape, overstimulation, transphobia, misogyny, mocking, RAPE/NON CON, marking/biting, forced makeup (smearing lipstick forcefully on you), nipple pinching, forced feminization, age gap (19 - 45), baby trapping(?)

This will not be accurate to said episode or series.

Info on this au; graves is a police officer and murderer who picks you up, why exactly? Find out.

You were sitting on a bus, a brown jacket hugging your body, some wranglers resting upon your hips. They hugged your body in every way they should’ve. You looked so handsome, could barely tell you weren’t biologically a boy until it came to your medium length hair. You liked it though, it wasn’t a big deal, nothing super scary or anything!

Your body ached, you had been on the road for days, hopping on and off buses, trying to get hotels with the little money you had, it was either that or food. You preferred food, of course learning how to live in the forest was hard, especially in this county. It was scary, men were too rough around here, always having their eyes open for pretty things.

Graves was gripping his steering wheel, his hands wrapping around it tightly as his truck drove down the road, his cowboy hat sat in the passenger seat, awaiting to be on his head, protecting his blonde hair. He had a warm duster wrapped around his body, covering his shirt and his waist, a hum leaving his lips as his fingers moved anxiously.

He needed to find something soon before he lost it, I mean he didn’t ever see stragglers until his truck slowed down, a bus lied ahead, completely broken down on the side of the road, 5 people stood by the bus, and one was walking up the road. He seemed to be most interested with the person walking away, smart aren’t they. Wondering on a lonely rode, graves could pull over, drag him in and rape him if he really wanted too.

Graves truck pulled to a stop as he watched you walk up to his truck, your eyes narrowing as you watched his friendly smile on his face, a thick country accent filling his voice. “Can I help? Where you headin? I’m sure I can take you there, it’s a long walk before any civilization hon.” He spoke in a sweet and welcoming tone, a click of a button caught your attention, graves had unlocked the door, he was really expecting you to get in. Maybe you should, this stranger seemed nice.

“How do I know you ain’t gonna like, molest me sir. Dangerous country around here I’ve heard.” You spoke softly, leaning against the rolled down window of his truck as graves watched you with a smirk, you had no clue what was coming. No clue this stranger would strap you to a bed and go fucking wild. Just to hear your petrified moans of pain.

Even if you were dressed like a man, which graves found to be a turn off in his own eyes. He’d take your clothes off and get you back into your comfort zone, you’d learn that he’s what you’d want. Even if you can’t kick or cry away from him, he didn’t care. You’d become what he wanted. Not what you wanted, you already had your chance with that, and you’d clearly failed.

As you leaned over to talk to the stranger, he got a good look down your shirt, seeing your perfect tits. Why would you hide these? They were perfect. He wanted to fondle and grab at your soft and plump fat that laid upon your chest, he’d touch until he was tired, graves was too rough to care whatever you thought.

His eyes trailed back up to your face, unlocking the car once more to try and signal you in. This time it worked, you crawled into the seat and picked up his hat, placing it on your own lap and buckling yourself in. The click of the seatbelt made you soothe almost immediately, your driver shot a toothy grin to you. He wasn’t gonna touch you yet, it would be wrong too. You’d scare easily, he could tell you were a jumpy little fucker. Which would definitely bring a challenge to him.

“Now, what were ya doin all the way out here hm? Definitely doesn’t seem like your type of place sweetheart.” He slowly let the sweetheart roll off his tongue, it felt almost natural when speaking to you. Especially now that he knew taking you to a motel would be worth it. Even if you don’t let him in, he’d just sneak through the window. Plus you didn’t look like you had much money.

“I was just exploring some country, the bus broke down, I was headed more up north, maybe in search of work.” He wrapped his arms around his own body, trying to put up a way of defense, showing he didn’t want to be touched, especially not by this strange man. He smirked, his eyes trailing down your body. He couldn’t wait to get your pants off, teach you what your body wants. How it should be treated, that it wasn’t your own. Nothing was your own, not to him. Graves would teach you that you were his thing to play with and train.

“You seem awful shy, why’s that darling? Nervous?” He grabbed your thigh with a firm grasp. Trying to make sure you couldn’t pull away from him, his grasp was rough and tight. Nails practically digging into your thigh to keep you in place, his grin lair rest upon his face still, his eyes lingering onto your body as his hand moved further up.

“Pull over I wanna get out.” You suddenly interjected his touch. Pulling your leg away and glaring at him, you sure as hell weren’t friendly. Especially when a complete stranger was gripping and groping you.

“No, no. I’ll drive you to a motel, chill out. You’re being dramatic boy.” He spat, watching as you practically curled up as far away from him as you could. Like he had some sort of plague or illness. You didn’t want to say anything else to him, I mean you didn’t have all the time in a he world to let this man grab at you, nor did you invite him to touch on you.

It was embarrassing to sit by him, especially after he groped or attempted to. His truck sped down the road, the surrounding area just turning into flashes of green and whites, the fog covering the surrounding forests. The blonde male looked fii oh you every second or so, he was trying to think of what to say, I mean he’d already freaked you out, maybe he would just take you to the motel and sneak into your room.

If anyone hears you moan and cry, they’d just think you’re getting your brains fucked out. I’m sure it happens at little places like this all the time. Some couple gets lonely and decides they’ll fuck eachothers brains out in the safety of a closed environment.

A sign appeared on the road just a bit ahead, it read ‘beach grove motel’ sounded like a calm and quiet peaceful place to relax for the night, then you were on your feet again, traveling god knows where. A hum left his lips once more as his truck sputtered to a stop infront of the cozy little place, his eyes lingering on your body. He couldn’t just let you go, not this time. He’s let countless of little catches go when he couldn’t had them to himself. You grabbed your stuff and climbed out of the vehicle.

Your boots hit the ground below you as quickly moved towards the entrance of the motel. You didn’t dare turn to meet his threatening eyes, he was preying down upon you. He parked in a nearby forest, his eyes watching as you entered your room. He’d find a way into your room. Graves moved around the back of the motel, pressing up against the wall and staring at the window which lead into your bathroom.

You stood in your room, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, the room had a decent shower with warm water, maybe you’d take a shower! It was probably better after walking most of the day except for when that guy picked you up,, that fuckin freak. Your hands went to your belt, holding onto the buckle and undoing your belt, letting your pants drop to the floor below you as you step out of your boots. Now just standing in a shirt and your panties. Even if you tired to appear manly, you ended up in your panties and I bra when without your clothes. You slid your shirt and bra off, trailing into the bathroom and starting a warm shower.

Graves looked through the window, his eyes scanning over your naked body, the glass was tinted a weird way, then he saw you quickly leave the room. His head tilting with curiosity as he moved towards the front of the building. You were standing infront of a vending machine, a large shirt over your body and some panties which were barely poking out. It seemed to have jammed, you hit the machine with an annoyed grunt.

The man took this moment to step beside you, hitting the machines glass much harder. You jumped out of fear. His hand resting on the spot where he hit, your candy bar fell almost too perfectly down to the bottom. He smirked at you playfully, “guess we meet again hm?” He sung out tauntingly. Graves loved the way you stared at him, horrified.

He hummed out once more, “you look much better without those boyish clothes. But, any girl looks better in what they should actually be wearin’ don’t they?” He stepped forward, in repulsiveness you stepped back, sliding your hand into the vending machine and moving back towards your room.

“I’m gonna go call my boyfriend and shower. Thanks, for getting it out.” You didn’t have a boyfriend but you needed him to get off your ass, you disappeared back into your room, quickly shutting your door and locking it. You removed your shirt and panties and went back to your shower, the warm fog that collected in the room welcomed you, your nipples softening as you stepped into the warm water, the drops of the broiling water dripping down your chest, then to your stomach and between your thighs, a whine of sorrow leaving your lips as the steaming liquid met your cunt.

It went back to dripping down your long legs, a shiver of embarrassment leaving you as you let your body warm up underneath the heavenly shower, graves sat propped outside the window, his eyes never faltering from their place on you. He couldn’t wait any longer, the male propped the window open, sneaking into your room without alerting you. He was good at lowering himself down onto the tile of the bathroom, he quickly pulled out his knife, creeping closer to the shower with careful, plotted steps. He grunted underneath his breath. His hands wrapping around your face as he covers your mouth. You immediately freak out in protest.

He chuckled with an amused hum, you looked so pretty with panic on your face. Pulling you out of the shower and dragging you onto the bed, he wasn’t gentle in any way. All he could think about was claiming what he wanted, especially from a pretty little thing like you. Graves slammed you down upon the bed, listening to your frantic scream of pain, and fear. How your voice tore through the room’s silence.

“Don’t. Dont do that, cmon dear you don’t wanna end up with your throat slit do you? Or run out of the room and let everyone see what you’re ashamed of hm?” He taunted, seeing that look of failure in your eyes. He was right and you knew it. Graves knew you’d comply right up until he fucks you, he watched the fear in your eyes, the way you taunted him with that afraid look. He wanted to stare into your horrified eyes forever.

A tsk left his mouth as he shoved you down into the bed more, grabbing some duck tape and taping you to the headboard. He wanted to watch you squeal and cry. The blonde smiled, grabbing a piece of duck tape and covering your mouth with it. His eyes narrowed with enjoyment, “now that’s the pretty girl I’ve always wanted. You know pretty little things like yourself go missing all the time, and who comes looking? Nobody.” He taunted, cupping your face with his hand.

“You’d look better with some pretty lipstick you know? Most ladies do.” He rambled on, grabbing your face and some lipstick, smearing it over your tape covered lips. The red makeup staining the duck tape that firmly kept your mouth shut, you were lucky to have him at this point. It could have been some deranged man who wanted to murder you! Graves wrapped his rough hands around your neck. His hands knew no gentleness or love, no feeling of calmness or home. He wanted to strangle you right here and now but he couldn’t.

As much as your fear brought him pure ecstasy. He couldn’t apply more pressure, he just wanted to ruin you. Why was that? Why did he desire to use you but not kill you. He’s killed so much people before, he was used to slashing throats and leaving them in a ditch to die alone. How were you different.

Graves stared down at you frustrated, his hands loosened around your neck before ultimately letting go of your neck. Seeing the red marks that littered it, he removed his duster, throwing it to the side along with his hoodie and his shirt. He was built, muscles littering his body as you admired his chest, his stomach, his arms. You didn’t know any better in this moment, it was your deranged way of coping. Graves bit on his lip, sucking on it for a second and then shifting his attention back to you.

He undid his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles and stepping out of them. His boxers clung around his bulge. He put his palm over it, rubbing himself through his boxers. He didn’t kill for pleasure, he killed because he didn’t know any better. All he could think of now was you and him, a little life he’d build with you, how he’d isolate you from everything and keep you as his wife.

Sure nobody would find you, nobody would ever understand him, or his ways. He’d cover every track about you and let your case grow cold.

Graves spread your legs apart, pulling down his navy blue boxers and stepping out of those, a smirk on his face as he watched yours grow in horror. His cock was massive! Not like you’ve ever taken one but from the porn you’ve seen, he was definitely above average. You swallowed the spit that was sitting in your mouth anxiously, watching as the blonde moved closer and closer, his hand wrapped over his tip as his eyes locked onto your heat. His frontal teeth digging into his lip as he got between your legs.

Frantic cries and sobs of concern leaving you as he moved closer and closer, preying down upon you. You were nothing but prey to him and it drove graves feral. His hands gripped your thighs and parted them without a second thought.

“Yknow im a sheriff darlin? I’m sure that’s quite the news to you. But you’re gonna be staying with me, maybe you’ll have my son. I’ll teach him to be just like his daddy hm? A monster of a child. Sounds real interestin don’t it. Darling.” He grabbed a blade from the bedside table that was probably older then you, how much condoms or drugs it’s seen must be a large number of them. How much families or men like graves have slept by it. Graves brushed the blade against your cheek, letting the curved tip cut into your plump skin as he pushed his tip against your cunt.

The cut man slammed his tip into you, feeling your gummy walls clamp and stretch around his cock. The deja vu hitting him as he’s always dreamed of this moment. Of making love to someone like yourself. Teaching you all you needed was him, he shoved deeper into you. Your screamish moans muffled from the grey tape that covered your pretty lips. The way your eyes shamefully rolled back in pain and pleasure. Your body ached like no other, all Philip could think of was the way you shook as he shoved his lengthy and girthy cock into you.

He felt so blessed to be the first one to deflower you. He loved how horrified you look, you couldn’t bark back in protest, all you could do was take his cock as you were supposed to. Like your bodies intended use was for. He wanted to pump you full of his cum and let you suffer the consequences.

He’d make you live with his fucking child, he’d make you stare at your baby and remember it’s a child of rape. It’s a child you never wanted, your body didn’t want it, yet it���ll feed and support the baby.

Graves rolled his hips aggressively, his cock throbbing in and out of your cunt, your velvet walls tightening around him as you involuntarily let him. Blood staining his throbbing cock. It twitched every time your cunt tried to adjust to his massive cock.

He panted like a fucking mutt his hands desperately grabbing at your hips and letting his finger nails dig into your soft fat. He didn’t stop himself from letting out all his anger out on you. Every once of frustration and lust he’s ever experienced made its way into the sex you were having, his cock bobbed in and out of you, you could feel every vein along his girth as he stared down at you.

You looked so overworked as he pounded into you, you shouldn’t have ever gotten in his truck. This wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed with the bus. But you thought you were too good, you weren’t though. If you were good enough you wouldn’t be getting raped, only dumb girls get raped. You couldn’t even consider yourself a man at this point. Not after all the beating down and after the rape, you were just a defenseless girl.

Graves hands squeezed at your boobs, his cock thrusting deeper into you, his blissful grunts filling your ears along with your own heartbeat. You felt like puking and it was so hard to even think. The air around you both was hot and unpleasant to breathe in. The blondes hips moved forward a few more times before his thrusts got sloppy, he breathed heavily before cumming directly into your cervix. Leaving his cock inside you to hopefully shove it deeper. He wanted to get you pregnant.

He wanted to force you to have his child. Graves grabbed your teary face, watching your puffy cheeks that were stained with tears, your sore and puffy cunt was neatly wrapped around his cock. Just how god intended it to be, the way you were supposed to be.

-

A year in the future.

Graves hand was on your thigh, a little boy sat in the backseat, kicking his legs and giggling. Graves smiled at you, leaning over at he kissing your cheek. “You know you’ll have to go back to the basement after this drive right? You’re only getting this because you gave me a strong and healthy boy.” His hand squeezed at the flesh on your thigh. The look on his face was the same one he met you with, just this time you were trapped. He’d take away your son if you ever tried to misbehave or leave. That was your fault though. You were the dumb girl who got raped, you could report him. But then again, you were the dumb little girl who was taken advantage of by the town sheriff. Who was definitely loved more than you were.

-

Lmk if I should make this into a series, regular posts should start back up again soon. I have been completely focused on this.

[mina-saiyat]

Twice Interactive Story Part 1077-1087

Cry For Me (Nayeon)

Following Jihyo back into your life, your time becomes more insufficient. Your free time is now fully occupied by Mina, Jihyo, and Dahyun every night. Sometime, you sleep with them separately, sometime together. For weekends, you occasionally visit Momo, but mostly at the gym. A quick sex after workout is the thing that you two do the most now, you don't even have time to visit her home.

'Leaving already?' Momo says as she wiping her hair after the shower.

'Sorry, Momo. I want to stay with you longer. But my schedule is really tight these days.' You say as you start to wearing your clothes.

Momo sadly gives you a kiss and sends you out.

You are now rushing to a fitting out works company, as Jihyo is really planning to connect the two flats. You would not object to the idea, as your home can become bigger.

You check your phone while you are on your way. You are texting Nayeon, although Jeongyeon told you to stay away from their life, but you have no intention to do so. You want to get Nayeon back. If Jeongyeon blocks your way, you would also crash her away.

You saw her ig updated. She is in Seoul now.

You tell Jihyo you may late and ask her to discuss the design with the designer first, and you drive straight to her somewhere near her parent's home, guessing she would go there first.

'I heard you are back to the town, maybe we can have a coffee? Near your parent's home.'

'Not interested, Y/N. Take your time. I am not visiting my family now.'

You are frustrated by her cold response, and then you see her sister just entered the Cafe. Although her family knows you two have broken up, in a bad way, no one knows because you cheated. Getting Nayeon's sister's help maybe a good option.

Though I know it would help my cause, I just leave and go home. Not wanting to possibly reveal what happened to cause us to break up.

You give up on relying on Nayeon's sister. You turn around and leave. However, the one you wanted to see appears. It's Nayeon, she carries lots of shopping bags, it seems she is busy on shopping when you text her.

When Nayeon sees you, her smile disappears. 'What are you doing here?'  You can feel Nayeon is a bit angry seeing you here.

'I just want to talk, Nayeon. But I don't get a chance.'

Nayeon takes a deep breath and says. 'I don't think there is anything we need to talk about. We are over.'

'Come to my car, Nayeon.' Nayeon glazes at you for a second, and she follows you to the car.

'I am sorry, I should not come to find you without your permission.' You open the door of her and get in the driver’s seat.

Nayeon gets on the car, and she keeps glazing forward rather than looking at you. Sitting on the passenger seat makes her remember the time when you two were dating. 'It's meaningless to say this.'

"Maybe, but I still have things to say, Nayeon, and I think you do too. After all, you could have rejected my texts. You could've gone straight inside without getting in my car. There are things we both want to say." I turn to her and see her looking forward. "At least look at me, Nayeon."

Nayeon' chest bouncing fiercely, she seems still angry. 'Looking you or not is my choice, it's none of your business.' Nayeon yells as she turns around to look at you. 'Now go ahead for your bullshit.'

I stare into Nayeon's eyes. "I'm sorry for everything. All the pain and anguish, everything. I was selfish and cheated on you. I lost the best thing I ever had that day, and right now, I'm struggling. I want you to go on and forget about me, to live a happy life with someone who'll treat you well. Someone who won't cheat on you, but at the same time, I still want to be the one standing by your side. I keep thinking of you when I've been with other people. I know I've got no right, and I stand no chance at that ever being the case, though. I guess, in a way, I just wanted to see you again. Even if you hate my guts."

'Do you need to hear what you are talking about?'

'After that dinner, I told myself we may be back together,  I wanted to get back together, so I came home and waited for you, whole night long. Where have you been then? You just go to find another girl and hooked up all night long.'

'When you fucked that girl, did you think about me? Did you think about we can be back together?’

‘And the one who cheated is you! Why am I supposed to be the one that pushes us back together?’ Nayeon screams and starts crying.

I pat Nayeon’s back. “I know, I know. I’ve felt awful since then. I thought you’d never want to see me ever again, and I drank too much after that. I did some things I’m not proud of. But more than anything, I’m sorry I hurt you the way I did. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t do any of that. I’m sorry, Nayeon. I should’ve tried to work things out, to make things better between us. It’s all my fault.”

Nayeon keeps crying. You get a tissue and want to wipe away her tears. But she turns around and looks annoyed, not wanting you to touch her.

'I am here, if you have anything want to say, I am here.' You hold the tissue for her.

Nayeon instead uses her hands to wipe the tears. 'I can blame you for days if you want me to talk.'

'I know it's ridiculous for begging you to forgive me. You would not do that.'

The car becomes silence, Nayeon doesn't talk, all you can hear is her cry.

You stare at Nayeon. The way she cries triggered something in your heart, and you want to conquer her again.

'I stop Jeongyeon to slap you doesn't mean I forgive you, I loved you, that's why I am hurted.'

"I know. I remember. I...I love you too. I still love you." I stay quiet for a moment. "I'm still not sure about Jeongyeon. She's... something else, hating my guts but still wanting to have sex with me. It's a little funny when you think about it." I say trying to joke about it.

'What? What did Jeongyeon tell you last time? Or do you want to have sex with her, too? I am so disappointed in you.' Nayeon yells at you and leaves the car.

'Wait Nayeon!' You follow her immediately

'I haven't finished, don't leave yet!' You grab her hand from behind.

'Let me go, I don't wanna talk to you.' Nayeon shakes her hand, wanting to leave you control.

'What do you want?' Nayeon finally stops and turns to face you, but what she does next make you shock.

'Pak!' Nayeon doesn't even notice she slaps you in face, she shocked either.

You touch your cheek with another hand, it's hot and red. It is not easier than Jeongyeon's one.

"I didn't and don't want to have sex with Jeongyeon. I thought of you, of how it would hurt you if I did that. She's the one who tried to have sex with me. She explained how your relationship with her was fake and thought that I'd show her how a guy could make you feel better than she could. I was never going to have sex with her." I take a deep breath, "I never was and never will because I was thinking of you. Goodbye Nayeon." I let her go and start to get back into my car.

You back on your car and caress your cheek, it's hurts, especially is Nayeon, who slaps you. You look out of the window. She is still standing there, looking at your car.

Things haven't gone as you planned, although you can see a little progress. Looking at Nayeon, you are thinking should you come down to talk with her after she has calmed down.

I stare back at Nayeon, wanting to continue talking to her. So, I do as much waiting for her to calm down before trying to talk to her again.

You leave your car and walk back to her. You think she is calm, so you step closer to her.

'Don't get too close.' Nayeon takes one step backward. 'Anything you still want?'

"Are you alright?" I ask, worried as to why she had stood in place for so long. "I mean, you've been standing there for a long time."

'No, I am just making sure you are leaving and not waiting for me again.' Nayeon suddenly walks toward you, you are curious that she just tells you to stay away from her.

Nayeon comes and hugs you. You grab her in your arms, feeling her existence, and your heart is finally complete again.

"Nayeon?" I shut up at that moment and just hold her in my arms. Squeezing her as if never wanting to let her go again. I'll wait until I feel her pull away to let go.

You hold Nayeon tighter, afraid she will disappear at the next second. Nayeon squeezes you tighter too.

'Nayeon... Ah!!!' You moan painfully as you find Nayeon bites your shoulder. All the force is focused on her rabbit teeth, just like two drillers drilling on you. You only realize she hugs you so close is for she can bite you more easily.

Even though it hurts I continue to hold her tight, I smile and kiss the top of her head. "I still love you."

You hold Nayeon, let her bite you easier. Your feeling on your shoulder slowly fades out. You don't know if your shoulder still belongs to you.

You close your eyes and kiss her head. You know you deserve it. If you suffer this pain, then you can get her back. You are more than willing to do it.

Your hands go up to caress her neck, you know her body so well, and you reach for her sensitive spots. Nayeon releases a moan, and her body softens, 'Ummm...' Her teeth finally leave your shoulder. You feel you are sweating from the pain, you look at your shoulder, the blood is coloring your shirt.

Nayeon turns around to escape your glaze, her lips still have your blood. you can't contain your emotions, and you lean to kiss her. Nayeon tries to resist, she wants to bite your tongue, forcing you to withdraw. You already know what she would do.

You squeeze her cheek so she can't bite you. 'Ummm...' Slowly, Nayeon stops fighting anymore. She just lays on your arms and lets you kiss her.

You withdraw your tongue until you feel you can't breathe, Nayeon's face is totally red, her sight loss the focus, just leaning in your hug. The excited make out occupied her mind. Her mind is now full of your scent. Her brain can't even function properly because of that.

'Are you satisfied now?' Nayeon whispers. 'Let me go, please? Nayeon begs you. 'Give me some time to think about what we just talk alone.'

I hesitantly let her go. My hands travel down her arms until I hold her hands for a brief second before we completely separate. "Yeah. I guess I should go too." I pat her head before watching her walk away.

[artists-ally]

{Train Wreck} Azriel x Cassian!Sister {Pt.1}

I am in love with this song, Train Wreck by Divide the Day and cannot get it out of my head. I feel like Azriel loves a good broken girl because she can relate to all of him. So here is the first part of that! Enjoy my loves!! lmk what you think!! (i got too excited waiting for the poll to end)

Word Count: 7,947

Warnings: Modern AU, OFC, angst, mentions of crimes, mentions of trauma, language, alcohol.

Summary: It has been far too long since Ira has seen her brother. They meet again under neither of their own terms and struggle to find any room in their hearts for pleasantries. But at least there is a hot, dark-haired, hot, buffer to focus on instead.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @librafairy @needylilgal022

Part Two

~~~~~~~~

“He’s going to say no.” No response from the peanut gallery in the front seat. “Seriously, he’s not going to be okay with this. You might as well let me out of the car now.”

“Will you just be quiet?” Arthur snapped, eyes locking with mine from the rearview mirror. “Need I remind you that this is your fault. You’ve left us with no other option.”

“I told you, it wasn’t me. That was-” “Cal, I remember the story. And that’s all that it is. A story, a fabrication that Arthur and I are no longer going to be entangled in. You may be able to fool the police with that lie, but you can’t fool us, Ira,” Dana snapped, whirling around to shoot me some daggers. She couldn’t look intimidating if she tried; her face was like a bunny, and every time she frowned it just looked like she smelled something rotten.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. There was no way he was going to take me. We hadn’t spoken in almost five years, I didn’t even know he was alive until three months ago when I heard about his engagement. How fucking rude of him not to tell me. I had to find out through a friend of a friend.

Fifteen years growing up together meant nothing to him, I guess.

The big riverside house came into view at the end of an equally impressive driveway. A shame for whoever had to go and collect the mail every morning. 

“Stay here, in the car,” Arthur barked. 

I opened the door and got out of the car, kicking a few stones. Man this place was flashy; a big fountain in the circular driveway, a line of cars over by a garage. Not to mention the very obvious multi-million dollar mansion that never seemed to end.

“Lord, give me the strength to not strangle this child,” Arthur sighed, marching to the front door. I snickered, he was always so uptight.

“Not a child, Arthur,” I countered. “Just turned 21. You’d know that if you ever bothered to check up.”

“Give it a rest, Ira. We’re trying to help you since you clearly don’t understand the basic human morals of being a functioning member of society,” Dana said, opening the trunk, catching a bag as it tumbled from the stack.

“Sorry that I don’t like to conform to the idealistic fantasy that is modern society.” 

Was it my plan to break into that restaurant and pose as waiters to make a few extra dollars? Yes, it absolutely was. And it was genius plan that if someone didn’t fuck up, it would’ve worked flawlessly. It ended with me in handcuffs and my ass sitting on the curb until Dana came to pick me up. 

Was it also my idea to drive four fucking hours away from my hometown to the middle of nowhere to be babysat? Abso-fucking-lutely not. 

“Get your stuff,” Dana dropped a few things to the ground. 

I came around the side of the car and heard the door open, and that lovely voice of his ring through my head. 

Great. This is going to go fantastic.

“Arthur? W-What are you doing here?” Cassian said. 

Cassian, six-foot-five and one hell of a bastard. He knew just how to get under your skin and make you want to punch him in the face. Which I had done on more than one occasion when he dug too deep. 

“Cassian, good to see you,” the old man said, extending his hand. “We uhh… we have something for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

I could hear the crunch of gravel and I knew what was about to happen. Any second now I was about to be publicly humiliated. I wish it was still the 1500’s where they parade you down the street and then execute you so I could at least see all the resentment on everyone’s faces.

“Dana!” I could practically hear that obnoxious grin in his voice before I could see it. “I was not expecting you guys, come in this is so awesome to-”

“She’s not the surprise, Cass,” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the back of the car. There was a sharp yank on my elbow and I damn near tripped over him. He must’ve grown again because he was a lot taller than the last time I saw him. “She is.” “Ira?” He squinted, as if he could ever mistake me for someone else. “Holy shit, I didn’t even know you were still around.” “You’d know that if you ever bothered to check up on me,” I couldn’t be bothered to be pleasant. Nothing about this would be fucking pleasent.

Cassian looked from Arthur to Dana, then back to me. And to the duffle bag that I was holding on to. I could see him connecting the dots inside his thick-ass skull. “No. No no no.”

“Cassian, she needs someone to look after her,” Dana expressed, chasing after him when he turned inside. 

“You cannot just plop her on my doorstep like some stray dog,” Cass shouted, throwing his arms in the air and all around.

“She’s your sister, for fucks sake,” Arthur joined. “She needs you to look after her. Since you left Ira has done nothing but cause me a headache and gray hairs.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I walked over, throwing the bag down. “And I’d appreciate if you talked about me like a fucking human being, not some gag gift that is always shuffled around at christmas because no one wants it.”

“I have a family to take care of, I cannot take you in, Ira. I have too much going on.”

“Some things never change,” I huffed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Now, let's just take this down a couple of notches, okay? It has been a long drive so why don’t we just go inside and-”

“Cass? What’s going on?” 

Cassian scrunched his face, and my eyes went to the door, a pretty woman standing there with her arms folded. She had a scowl on her face and narrow eyes. Her long brown hair was braided over her shoulder. 

“Nothing, these people were just-”

“Who’s here?” Another voice, a man, asked next. Now, if I had died and gone to heaven and you told me that was an angel, I’d believe you. 

Cassian muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “Nesta, Rhys, this is Arthur and Dana. My foster parents from years ago. And this… this is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Both of them exclaimed at the same time. He didn’t even tell them about me? Some fucking brother he is. I didn’t want to be here, but now I really wanted to see where this was going to go. It could be entertaining.

“They were just-” “Come in come in,” the man stepped down and shook Arthur's hand. “I am Rhysand, call me Rhys. Welcome, we are so pleased to have you. Cassian never mentioned having visitors today.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Dana let out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard. She was one of those people who, when nervous, laughed after every sentence. Like come on lady, grow a set and just say what you really mean it’s not that hard. 

I smiled victoriously as Arthur and Dana were escorted inside. When I looked up at Cassian, he had rage in his eyes. “Good to see you too, Cassie.”

“Do not,” he pointed at me. “You are not staying here, whenever this little tour is over, you’re gone with them.”

“Gladly.” 

I closed the trunk and followed behind a storming Cassian. His shoulders might as well have been pinned to his ears. It looked like a stick was shoved up his ass. 

The house was absolutely massive. I thought shit like this only existed in fairytales, not… wherever the fuck we were. Certainly not my normal run-down streets I was used to. There were cabinets filled with fine dishes and things were on display. Everywhere. I don’t think I have seen so many things before in my life. 

While Cassian pouted in the corner, the man named Rhys showed us all around. He pointed and spoke, but I received a text on my phone. 

Cal: your a piece of shit I hope you know that

Me: You’re* but it’s fine.

Cal: i cannot believe you fucking left me

Me: Whoops. Sorry bud, I couldn’t stick around. You dicked me over so… guess that karma’s a bitch.

Cal: you know I’m bad with names

Me: WE USED EACH OTHERS!!!!!! HOW HARD CAN IT BE TO FORGET MY NAME!

Cal: hopefully pretty fucking easy because I don’t ever want to fucking see you ever again. fuck you ira

Me: Right back atcha, asshole.

Great, now the only person that I had remotely trusted was out of my life. I had no one back in my hometown. No one to remember or care for me. I don’t think I ever had someone in the first place. What happens when you don’t have anyone to teach you right from wrong? What do you get when you mix a traumatized teenager in a city with nothing to do? A hot mess. A hot fucking mess. 

“Oh, and this is my wife Feyre. My darling, this is Arthur, Dana, and Ira, Cassian’s foster parents and his sister,” Rhys spared me a glance and I scrunched my face. Had Cassian really never bothered to tell them about me?

“Wow,” she had a small smile on her pretty face. Why was everyone here so pretty? “You look just like him. You both have the same eyes. And the same hair.”

“Great, what I’ve always wanted to be. Cassian's clone.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll.

“Ira,” Dana hissed. “Some manners?”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Dana smacked her forehead, mumbling something about gray hairs and a headache again. I chuckled. I thought it was funny. Especially the curtsy. 

“Why don’t you all stay for dinner, I wouldn’t mind getting to know some of Cassian’s family,” Feyre said, that small smile still on her lips. We had all meandered outside to look at their yard, at the fountain in the front of the house. 

To no one's surprise, there was a matching one in the back by the pool. 

“Oh, we really have to get back on the road,” Arthur said, folding his hands together and swaying on his feet. “It was a pleasure getting to meet all of you, it makes me happy knowing that Cassian has found such a great group of successful, intelligent people.”

That last part was vehemently directed at me. 

“Why are you looking at me? Cassian already said that I couldn’t stay.”

“Well I am sure that-”

“Why wouldn’t you stay?” Rhys asked, folding his arms against his chest. 

I looked at Dana and Arthur, patiently waiting for someone to explain it. No takers? Guess it’s my time to shine. “Well, I think it’s because he doesn’t give a flying fuck about-”

“Okay okay,” Cassian interjected, and a devious grin spread across my lips. “Stay for dinner.”

What a two faced son of a bitch. It wasn’t me who decided to leave, it was him. And he’s pissed at me? Not fucking fair. We all went inside, but Cassian lingered at the back of the pack. While Rhys took Dana and Arthur around to the kitchen, Cassian yanked me– why was everyone throwing me around– into a room off to the side. 

“What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Wow, Cassie-”

“Do not call me that.” 

He used to hate it when I called him Cassie. Especially around his friends because they would make fun of him for days after. I loved that. 

“No hi, how are you? No ‘it's good to see that my sister is alive and doing well?’” “Clearly not well enough since they dragged you all the way out here. How the hell did you even find me?” Cassian’s eyes were full of fire. Looks like he still had that canyon of a line between his bushy-ass-eyebrows when he was upset. 

“I know a guy,” I shrugged. Antoine is an amazing man. “But that’s besides the point. Wait… were you purposefully trying to disappear so I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

I swallowed, I hated when he scolded me. “It wasn’t even that bad. They just gave me community service.”

“Jesus Christ, Ira. What did they want to give you?” Cassian shouted for the whole house to hear. 

“Doesn’t matter, I got myself out of it. Like I always do, without your fucking help. I am capable of taking care of myself without you.”

“Yeah you seem to be doing a swell job,” Cassian looked me up and down, clearly judging my tangled hair and ripped up jeans that I’ve probably had since middle school. “I thought all of this was behind you, Ira. When I left you were-”

“Abandoned. You didn’t leave, you abandoned me.”

Cassian relaxed his shoulders. “You know if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” I was waiting for him to argue, to deny that fact. But he didn’t, and his haunting silence was enough of an answer. I scoffed, a hard, bitter noise. “You know I don’t blame you, no one would want to take a juvenile delinquent anywhere, especially somewhere like this place.”

“Ira-” “Save you’re fucking breath, Cass. You don’t have to pretend around me, you’ve never had to. Just play along with it for one night and I’ll be gone by the morning. Then I won’t have to be your liability to shoulder ever again.”

I didn’t wait around to see his response. Somewhere deep inside I was actually excited to see him. To meet the person my scrawny, gangly brother had turned into. Now he was… a man. Like a real man. I never thought I’d see him with long hair, but here we are. He was tall and muscular and had long hair. Shoulder length, but the longest I’ve ever seen it. It suited him. 

He looked healthy. He looked happy. For fucks sake he was engaged. Albeit to the most terrifying looking woman I’ve ever seen, but they looked like they somehow worked. I feel like Nesta and I would be great friends. Cause a lot of trouble together. Piss off Cass together

I found Dana and Arthur with glasses of wine around a large table, two other women that I hadn’t met yet. 

“Ahh, this is her,” Rhys stood up, putting his hands on my shoulders. “This is Ira, Cassian’s sister.”

“After all this time,” a pretty blonde woman spoke, looking at me from head to toe. “Who knew Cassian could keep you a secret.”

“You look just like him,” a girl who looked similarly to Feyre said, eyes wide. “I’m Elain. And that’s Morrigan.”

“Mor is fine, dear,” Mor smiled, coming over to me and Rhys. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Absolutely,” I grinned, linking her elbow with mine when she offered. I knew Cassian had walked into the room because of his massive feet against the floor. He said something, but I didn’t care because I was giggling with Mor as we rounded a corner to a set of stairs. 

“I know Elain said this already, but fuck you look like Cassian,” she laughed, opening a room and revealing a giant bed with a balcony on the other side of some french doors. 

“It gets really fucking annoying,” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have something I could change into, do you?”

“Oh, of course. Let's go find you something. You were saying about Cassian?”

“Right, it’s a constant reminder of that prick every time I look in the mirror.”

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in a goddamn nightmare,” I groaned, sitting on the corner of her bed while she rummaged through a closet. “I mean, it has been five years since I’ve seen the guy, and he still looks like the same idiot who used to pay me to do his laundry.”

“He what?” Mor gasped.

“Yeah. He threw one red sock in with the whites and vowed to neer do it again. So I, the natural entrepreneur, snagged up the opportunity to take his allowance. Five bucks a wash was a good deal considering he needed to have a load done twice a week. And god did it smell.”

“Well, in the five years since I’ve known him, it hasn’t gotten any better. And suddenly it makes a lot more sense when I see Rhys doing more laundry than anyone else. Interesting.”

I shook my head. I guess things haven't really changed. I’ve been saying that way too much in the past half hour we’ve been here. Could this go any slower? Like seriously, why couldn’t Dana and Arthur leave, then I would pretend to be good for a few hours until the sun goes down. I’ll make my way to the nearest bus stop and hitch-hike it all the way back. 

Mor came out and held up a gorgeous top; it was a powder blue color with a square neckline and long, puff sleeves. She tossed it my way and then ran back in there for something on the bottom. 

“What’s your style? Skirt? Jeans? Leggings?” Mor called, and by the muffled noise, I could tell her closet was huge. 

A dream. 

“I’ll take a skirt if you have one,” I said, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. “Leather maybe? Or just black.”

“You’ve got good taste,” she smirked, coming out and handing me a black leather skirt. “Exactly what I would’ve gone with. The bathroom is right through there, I’m gonna head back down stairs and just come down whenever you’re ready. Oh, and if you want to do your hair, everything is in the drawer in the vanity. The big one on the right.”

I looked at her with soft eyes. I’ve always wanted to have a sister to do all that girly shit with. To gossip and do makeup at three in the morning, giggling and laughing until we can’t breathe. 

But I can’t get too attached. She’s clearly just being nice, just being a good person. I know nothing about her, I can’t just trust her. 

So I nodded, heading off and closing the door behind me. Fuck. This was a big ass bathroom. A huge freestanding tub and an equally impressive shower. 

I shed my shirt and folded it up haphazardly, same with my jeans. The shirt she gave me made my boobs look fantastic. There wasn’t a ton there, but more than enough to fill out the shirt. The skirt was a bit of a different story. Clearly Mor had never been to a gym because there was no way my ass was fitting in that. 

Thankfully I had learned a trick from a friend. That friend was the internet. And that trick was a skill I had developed from stealing whatever clothes I could get my hands on. I had to make it work somehow. But I found a hair tie and looped it through the hole where the button was in the middle, hooking it around the button and back through. 

As good as it was going to get. 

My hair wasn’t awful, just a little greasy and wind blown from being outside. There was some dry shampoo and a comb. It would do the trick. 

Much like everyone has already pointed out, the hair that Cassian and I shared was a little unruly. It only curled through the ends and was wavy the rest of the way. And the baby hairs? Forget about it, I was better just cutting them off. 

I looked in the mirror. Well… it was certainly an outfit. I definitely had an appropriate amount of clothes on my body for a family dinner. The shirt only came up to my underboob and the skirt barely covered where my ass met my thighs. 

It did wonders for my self confidence. Guess it’ll have to do.

When I got back downstairs, there was a light chatter in the air. But it stopped the second I walked in the room. Especially when Dana saw what I was wearing. 

No one spoke as I sat down and poured some water from the pitcher into my glass. I made sure to make my sip as obnoxious and dramatic as possible. Man I was starving.  

Thankfully conversation between Rhys, Feyre, and Dana resumed and the silence wasn’t eating me alive. I took out my phone and scrolled through instagram, posting a picture of a lake I had taken on my up here. It was a semi nice drive, very peaceful, but very very far from the shit-hole I used to call home. 

“How do all of you know each other?” Arthur asked. 

“Well I met Cassian when we were in high school, as well as our other friend Azriel. We made a deal with each other that when we graduate, we would do everything in our power to become the most powerful business owners we could. As you can see, that little pact is working quite well.” “How long have you lived here?” Dana asked next, clearly eyeing up Rhys. 

“For about three years now?” Mor answered, Rhys nodded. “We kind of all found each other on the same paths and stuck together. We sort of own and share everything around here.”

“That is lovely,” Dana smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I own a casino and a neighboring hotel,” Rhys smiled. All the alarm bells were going off in my head. A big cartoon ‘cha-ching’ right there with it. He ran a casino? And a hotel? Oh boy this could be good. “Cassian runs the whole thing, and Azriel kind of has his own thing.”

“Who’s Azriel?” Arthur unfolded the napkin and laid it across his lap. 

“He is our other friend,” Cassian butted in, lips pressed in that line that I remembered. “He’ll be by later.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “More people.”

“Will you please be polite for once in your life?” Dana whisper-yelled, clearly not being discrete enough since everyone looked at us. 

I just shut my mouth, grinding my teeth. It’s not worth it, it's not worth it, I told myself. A few moments later, a large tray with some type of bird on it came out. It was too big to be a chicken, but too small to be a turkey? Duck maybe? I don’t know, it didn’t matter. It was food. 

Everyone around me took their time while I ate like a heathen. Putting a little bit of everything on my plate and scarfing it down like someone was going to take it away from me. 

It was so funny to see the look of pure hatred and disgust on Cassian’s stupid face. 

I swear, pissing off a sibling, especially an older one, has got to be the most satisfying thing in the world. Except for maybe sex. That was a close second.

And whatever this food was was a close third. 

“So, Ira. What do you like to do?”

Here we go. 

“I kind of have many hobbies.” I could see Cassian’s eyes narrow from across the table. 

“Like?” Rhys stuck a green bean in his mouth.

“Uhh, f-fashion. And I’m very good at handling money. Other people's money. As well as picking locks and hotwiring cars-”

“She’s joking,” Cassian gave the fakest laugh– besides Dana’s– that I’ve ever heard. “We used to play cops and robbers when we were little, she always wanted to be the robber.”

“Did I?’”

“Yes,” he practically growled. “You did.”

This was crazy. This was actually crazy to be doing this right now. If I had any particular feeling about the things I did, guilty and ashamed were not some of them. Who gave a fuck if I stole from Walmart or faked being a waitress to make a few extra bucks? If anything they should be thanking me for the extra set of hands. Which they didn’t have to pay for. 

It wasn’t like I stole the Mona Lisa for fucks sake. 

“I guess I did.” 

“What was Cassian like growing up? I can only imagine some of the stories you have,” Nesta chimed in from next to Cassian.

“Oh my god one time, Cassian was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-”

“Do not-”

“And he thought that the peanut butter was in the fridge for some reason. Turns out he grabbed a bottle of dijon mustard and used that instead. He took one bite and threw up everywhere. It took Dana a week to get the smell out of the kitchen.”

Everyone grimaced, poking fun at Cassian for making a jelly-mustard sandwich. “I guess that explains the nausea every time I make one.”

“You still can’t stomach even the smell?” My eyes were a little wide. That had to have been from when we were still in elementary school.

“Nope,” Cassian’s tone was harsh, fork forceful as it went into his mouth. 

“Ira told me that you used to pay her to do your laundry because you fucked it up one time,” Mor snickered from her corner, Elain covering her lips with her hand to keep the water inside her mouth. 

“Seriously?” Cassian glared at me. 

“Hey, she asked. Those are trade sibling secrets, I wouldn’t dare give those away without something in return,” I gestured to my new outfit. Just and FYI, I would’ve told Mor regardless.

“Yes you would.” 

Yes, I absolutely would. “Lighten up,” here it comes, “Cassie.”

Cheers and laughs raised in the air, Rhys punching Cassian in the shoulder and saying the nickname over and over again. He gave me the nastiest look, but I just tipped my glass towards him. 

“What is everyone laughing about?” A new voice said from over my shoulder. When I turned to look… holy mother of Jesus fucking-

“Azriel,” Rhys, still in a fit of laughter. “Listen to this. Our beloved Cassie used to pay his sister to do his laundry. And I found out the reason he runs away whenever any of us set peanut butter on the counter.”

“Sister?” 

Okay, I was surely in heaven. Or hell, and he was some sort of demon prince because… someone help me. If I thought Rhys was attractive then… fuck he’s hot. Unnaturally hot. Otherworldly hot.

“Azriel, this is my sister. Ira,” Cassian gestured to me without looking. “This is Azriel.”

He was so hot. That was the only thing going through my mind. He was exactly my type. And he was fucking ripped. I could tell. I didn’t need to see under the shirt he was barely wearing. It was so tight in all the right places. Fuck he was pretty to look at. 

“Nice to meet you,” I tumbled out. 

Azriel gave a not-so-subtle look at me, but didn’t say anything as he moved to sit with us. Unfortunately he sat on the other side of Mor, who was to my left so I wouldn’t be able to look at him. That’s all I wanted to do was just drink him in and think about those massive fucking hands on my-

A sharp kick to my shin had me wincing. When I looked up, Cassian met my heated gaze. 

Don’t even think about it, he mouthed, sliding a thumb across his throat.

One raise of my eyebrow told him I was up for the challenge. I could see his jaw clench, and that only made me more enticed. Azriel was hot, and so was I. I’d make it happen one way or another. 

I couldn’t have told you what happened next, I was far too busy thinking about Azriel. Man he was… he was so fucking good looking. He had these lighter colored eyes, hazel I think. And a dark mess of hair. I’m sure he looked like a Greek god under those clothes of his, too. 

“And you’re engaged? That’s wonderful, Cassian. I am so happy for you,” Dana gushed while looking at Nesta’s ring. “Congratulations, you two. Do you have a date picked out?”

“No,” Nesta said sternly. “We are just going to wait things out. Until both of us feel ready.”

Cassian nodded, not offering up any words. 

“What would you guys like for dessert?” Rhys asked, listing off a few options. I stopped paying attention after chocolate cake because who would want to hear anything else?

“I’m afraid we better get on the road, it is a long drive back to our home. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” Arthur stood up from the table, shaking Rhys’s hand. “Cassian, a word, please?”

With a deep breath, Cassian stood up and followed the old man out of the room. 

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can we all agree that there is something wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so… so rigid in my life,” Mor blew out air from her lips, shaking her head. 

“I think I better uhh… better explain a little bit.” My heart sped up a bit. “Dana and Arthur are kind of fed up with me so they’re just gonna take off. And leave me here. But don’t worry, I’m just gonna find a bus stop in the morning and be gone before any of you wake up. No biggie.”

The room was silent except for my fork scratching on the plate. When I looked up, everyone was looking at me funny.

“Ira, what? They’re gonna leave you here?” “It is a long story. And they think I need a role model to get my life together. Why Cassian is that role model I’ll never understand because the last I knew of him he was just as irresponsible as I was.”

Rhys took a sip of wine, “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

“Five-six years now I think? I don’t know, I stopped counting after eight months,” I shrugged. Truth is I haven’t stopped counting the days since he left. I took a big piece of this chocolate cake into my mouth. “Fuck, this is good.”

“What happened?”

“We are lightyears away from you being able to ask that,” I laughed. “No offense but, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Again, the room was silent, except for a small snort at the end of the table. It wasn’t Elain because she was so red she looked like she was gonna pass out. And the only other one was Azriel. 

“Hint taken,” Rhys pressed his lips in a flat line. “Well, you are Cassian’s family, so you are always welcome in our home.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. I’ll figure it out, I always have. It’ll be like I was never here,” I took another forkful and shoved it in. Damn, I was gonna miss this cake. “So, Rhys, you own a casino and a hotel. What do the rest of you do?” 

“Well, Cassian runs the casino and hotel,” Rhys pointed out again. “Azriel owns and runs the adjacent club attached. We basically have our own empire here.”

“Sounds fun,” I smirked. He owned a club? Could he get any hotter? “What about you Mor.”

“I am the best fucking bartender this place has seen,” her grin matched my own. “And I model here and there.” “Badass.” “I have an art studio. I teach classes and do some workshops,” Feyre said. “But most of the time I am at home with our son Nyx. He is… he’s a handful. A spoiled handful.”

“Hey,” Mor said, “to be fair, he is the first kid in our group, what did you expect?”

“He’s barely two, he doesn’t need designer clothes that he won’t fit into after a few months anyway. It's a waste of money.”

“Feyre, darling, I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but we kind of have a lot of money. It could use some wasting,” Rhys patted her thigh under the table. 

I can only hope to have enough financial security to be able to say sentences like that. They could probably retire right now, all of them, and never make a dent in their fortune. Lucky bastards. 

“What is it that you do, Ira?” Azriel poked his head from around Mor. 

“Oh,” fuck fuck fuck fuck. What the hell was I supposed to say? Certainly the fact that I commit petty crimes won’t go over well. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I don’t have a set career yet.”

“So hot-wiring cars is just a hobby then?” 

A stream of water shot out of Mor’s mouth and onto the table. How did he even hear that?

“It’s a skill. Don’t come crying to me when your battery dies and you don’t wanna pay a hundred and fifty dollars for Triple A to come and pick up your ass,” I deflected. Another skill I had built up over the years. 

“And the locks?” Wow, he was kind of an asshole with supersonic hearing. I could see why he and Cassian hung around together. 

“I was a locksmith,” I mustered up my best smile and scooted my chair so I was sitting at an angle.

“Ah, so it wasn’t just the ‘cops and robbers’ you and Cassie used to play growing up. Good to know,” Azriel wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood up, saying something about having to leave because he had to open up. Just as he was walking by, I stuck my toe into the walkway and he tripped over me. 

Azriel all but went through the wall, Cassian coming around at the last second and catching his arm. 

“You alright?” He asked as Azriel straightened himself out. 

“Yup. Fine.” The glare he gave me sent a shiver down my spine and a smirk curled at my lips. Two can play that game, mother fucker. 

I, very gracefully, scratched the corner of my nose with my middle finger. He got the message. But so did Cassian.

“Your stuff is in the driveway. Go get it and meet me upstairs.” Cassian looked so pissed off. His shoulders were pinned to his ears again as he stalked away, that silence settling back in the room. 

“Guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Thank you everyone, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with a genuine tone. They were all cool, and some part of me wishes I could have what they all have. Trust in one another. 

The three duffle bags and backpack were not light as I carried them up the stairs, trying not to knock over all the decorations and pictures on the wall. One of them didn’t survive. It crashed all the way down and shattered on the hardwood floor. Cassian cursed from somewhere. 

With a thud, I let go of all the bags in some random room at the end of the hall. It was barely big enough to call a hobbit hole. There wasn’t a window or a real bed, just some cot with a pillow and a blanket. “Glamourous.”

“It’s the best that I could do,” Cassian all but rolled his eyes. 

“A couch would’ve been better,” I plopped down on the taught fabric, bouncing a little. “Sorry about the frame.” “It’s fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Ira I’m sorry about how I left you.” “Yeah well apologies don’t mean a fucking thing to me unless you fix it, Cassian,” I folded my arms over my chest. “And for the record, I would’ve understood if you would’ve just fucking told me what was going on. Instead, not only did you not tell me, you ghosted me.” “I know.” I just blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well?”

Nothing. Not even a strangled breath. “I just had to.”

“That’s the best you can do? Are you seriously still that fucking thick in the head?” “I didn’t have a choice, Ira,” he shouted. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “You absolutely had a choice. You could’ve at least left me a fucking note with a number on it so I could talk to you. You were all I had, Cass. All I fucking had and you just disappeared. What did you expect me to do?"

Cassian shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I-I don’t know. I thought you’d get yourself together and make it out too. Build your own empire, like the one we have here.”

“In case you forgot, I didn’t get to finish school like you did.”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

The fucking nerve. I stood up, barely coming to his chest, and smacked him across the face. His head jerked to the side, and his mouth fell open. I shoved him into the wall on the other side of the hallway and he fell into it. 

“You are a piece of fucking shit Cassian.”

“Ira-” “Did you really think that I would end up alright without you there? Could you really be that fucking stupid?”

“I didn’t think that-”

“Of course you didn’t. You never have. You’ve only ever thought about yourself and what would benefit you. You never gave a shit about me, I was just a burden you couldn’t get rid of.” “That’s not true,” he gritted his teeth. 

“Tell me that I am not a constant reminder of dad. Or mom. Tell me.” I waited for a response. When nothing came, I felt the nausea roll through my body. “You are one sorry son of a bitch Cassian.”

“Jesus Ira you think I wanted to abandon you?” “You haven’t given me one other reason to believe anything different,” I was screaming now. I didn’t care if anyone else heard. “The last memory I have of you is seeing you packing a fucking bag and climbing out your window, what else am I supposed to believe about you?”

A door clicked open, and Azriel emerged. He looked at us with raised eyebrows. He had changed into all black. Fuck him and his good looks and his perpetually messy hair that I wanted to tug on. 

“Everything alright?” 

No, you fucking prick. 

“Just re-kindling our sibling rivalry,” I gave a mocking look, staring down Azriel. “Mind your own damn business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ira,” Cassian said, somewhat appalled. 

“Just fuck off, Cassian,” I waved my hand at him. “Like I said, I’ll be gone in the morning and you don’t ever have to worry about making it up to me again because you won’t be able to. Hope you are happy living in your perfect little bubble with your perfectly little circle. Hope they’re all more important to you than I ever was.”

I slammed the door shut quicker than he could get a response out, leaning against it. I hadn’t ever realized that I was shaking.

Whatever. Fuck him too. I don’t need Cassian. I haven’t needed him for the past six years. God, had it really been that long?

There was no use in unpacking so I just piled the bags in the corner of the room. And there was also nothing to do besides lay down simply because there wasn’t enough room to do anything else. 

Maybe when everyone has gone to sleep, or home, I’ll go sneak around. Take something just to piss him off. Nothing too valuable, but something really inconvenient like all the salt and pepper shakers or all the spoons. Or one of the Corvettes in the driveway. 

I could easily pick out which one was his; the yellow one with the black stripes on the hood. He always loved to be bold. How he fit in there I’ll never know.

My mind was racing with thoughts, but eventually I had fallen asleep because the sun was peeking through the crack under my door. I stirred and sat up, tucking my boob back into the shirt since it slipped out. Not my proudest moment for sure. 

I changed into a hoodie and some other jeans, folding the shirt and skirt up to give back to Mor. It didn’t feel right to take them. She didn’t do anything wrong. 

With far more precision, I made it downstairs to the front door. It unlocked easily, thankfully no alarm system went off. The chill of the early morning greeted me and I slipped out silently. 

Fuck, this driveway was long. Couldn’t they be normal and have a normal fucking sized driveway? It was so unnecessary. 

And of course there was nothing at the end of it. Just the road and nothing else. Not another house or anything. Who knows how far it could be until a bus station. Hopefully this place wasn’t filled with a bunch of weirdos and I wouldn’t get kidnapped. 

The thought of carrying all these bags for miles would tear up my back and shoulders. I didn’t have that much but… I needed all of it. 

“Ira!”

I whirled around and saw a Cassian shaped silhouette coming down the driveway. Oh great. 

“Come to demand I pay for the broken frame?” “Stay.”

What? “What?”

Cassian breathed heavily, “Stay. I-I am so sorry for what I said. And you’re right, I don’t ever think of anyone other than myself. And I’m sorry I never told you where I was going. I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t at least let me try.”

I dropped the bags, totally not believing what I was hearing. “And what if I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to or not?”

Cassian completely deflated. “Please, Ira. I made a promise to Dana and Robert that I would look after you. I miss you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t feel like a piece of shit for what I did."

So what if he made a promise to Dana and Arthur? He made a promise to me first. To always stick together. To always be there. He hung me out to dry before I even had a chance to notice. 

I fucking hated Cassian. More than anything right now I wanted to watch him be boiled alive. Could he really even help me anyway? What was the fucking point of any of this? I was already humiliated, and dragging innocent people into my bullshit surely didn’t help. 

Throw Cassian back into the mix and my kleptomaniac behaviors will definitely skyrockets. 

“Why should I?”

“Because what other option do you realistically have?” 

“That is not fair,” I flare my nostrils. “You have no right to waltz back into my life and pretend you give a shit about me.”

“You were the one who was dropped on my doorstep,” Cassian pointed out, making my stomach drop. 

“You know, you’re doing a shit job at showing that you legitimately want me to stay, asshole.” I was getting a little angry. Good things did not happen when I felt betrayed. “And for the record, I tried to talk them out of bringing me here, but they went around me and got a fucking court order. So, whether you want to believe it or not, it was not my choice to be here. I can’t even go back with Dana and Arthur because there will be a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Shit…” Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Ira I’m-”

“Sorry. I know. But you lost the privilege of my forgiveness long ago. It is gonna take a hell of a lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to fix what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, I know,” Cassian softened his eyes and his voice, standing tall in front of me. “Just… give me something. Anything, and I will never betray you ever again.”

Should I believe him? I have no fucking idea what to do. All my alarm bells are telling me to run and don’t look back, but that gaping pit in my stomach is melting into him and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes of his. So unfair. 

This was gonna be a rough fucking time. Nothing about this was going to be easy, but… he was right. I didn’t have another option. And maybe there was something salvageable between Cassian and I. It would take a hell of a lot of convincing to be able to trust him ever again, but he was still Cassie. That same smug son of a bitch who gave the best hugs in the world. 

If he wanted me to stay, there were going to have to be some sacrifices on his end. Mostly just to piss him off and make him sulk. 

“I want a real fucking room.”

“Any one in the house.”

“I want yours.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassian furrowed his brow. “Plus, I don’t even live here anymore. Just Rhys, Feyre and Nyx. Nesta, Azriel and I live in the next town.”

“So what, you all just visit together and pretend to be a big happy family?” I scoffed, kicking a stone. 

“We don’t pretend, Ira,” he didn’t say it rudely, but more matter of fact-ly. And he looked at me like I had never known what a family was. I guess he forgot that when he left it kind of ruined me. Or again maybe he just didn’t care what it would do to me back then. 

Cassian looked sad. Not depressed or upset, just sad. 

“Your room or I’m gonna walk away right now.” There was no room for negotiating in my voice. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but with a sigh he gave in. 

“Fine, you can have my room here,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Actually it was. I spent weeks designing that room. All for it to go to fucking waste.” “Sucks to suck I guess,” I smirked, shouldering two of my bags. “I’m gonna work hard, you know. I’m tired of always being in the fucking mud.”

“Yes, you are going to work hard. You’re going to have to follow some rules and check in. And you’re gonna have a curfew.”

“A curfew? What am I, thirteen?”

“Until you can prove to me that you’re not gonna go and rob a bank, yes, you’ll have a curfew,” Cassian picked up my other bags and started walking back to the house. “We’re gonna find you a job because I will not be funding your operation.”

“What happened to ‘we have a lot of money. It could use some wasting’?”

“Rhys wasn’t wrong,” Cassian said. “But just because we have it doesn’t mean you get access to it.”

“Jeez, sorry I brought it up, grumpy pants,” my turn to roll my eyes. “And what kind of rules anyway?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Some of us like to get a full eight hours of sleep every day so I am going back to bed. You’re not allowed to leave the house until I say so, so find something to do.”

“Or someone,” I whispered to myself. But Cassian heard. “A joke.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eye fucking Azriel,” Cassian practically gagged. “That is one of your rules. You are not allowed to be engaged with him in any type of way. The last thing he needs right now is you.”

“Right to the heart.”

“I mean it, he’s been through a lot the past year and a half. It took him a long time to get to where he is and I won’t let you ruin it for him,” Cassian said possessively. “He, along with everyone else, is my family. Fuck with them and you’re dealing with me.” “News flash, buddy, so am I. We share the same DNA, and hair and eyes according to everyone else on the fucking planet,” I genuinely could not see it. 

“Ira, I’m serious. If you fuck around with Azriel and I find out I sweat to-”

“Jesus, calm down Vengeance. Gotham is safe from the Joker,” I followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind me. “I won’t get involved with Azriel.”

“Good.”

Life is too short to not fuck who you want, who gives a shit about what other people think. Sorry Cassian, but I am gonna fucking break that promise if it’s the last thing I do. And so help me god when I do get my hands on him because I’ll never let go.

[unfinishedslurs]

welcome to eden

this is a love letter. inspired by this song

As soon as Steve picks up the phone, she knows she’s making a mistake.

“Rob?”

“No,” she says instead of hanging up like she should. 

“Nancy?” He sounds more alert now, and she can picture him standing up straighter, calling to attention at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” she sniffs, hating herself for it. “I—can we talk?”

He’ll say no. He’ll say no, because it’s one in the morning and he was probably asleep before the phone rang and she shouldn’t be asking to talk years after she broke his heart and didn’t even remember—

“Of course,” he says, and Nancy could kick herself. “Over the phone?”

“No. Not over the phone. I’m sorry, it can wait, you can go back to bed.”

She hears him huff a laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about any of it. “I wasn’t in bed,” he assures her. “Am I picking you up?”

Tears spring anew to her eyes. “If that’s okay.”

“Works for me,” he says. “See you soon.”

“See you,” she echoes, and hangs up. 

She spends the time it takes pacing quietly in front of the front door, berating herself for using him like this. But she needs to talk to him, and the sooner it’s over with the better. 

Headlights cut through the window way too soon, and she nearly throws herself out the door. 

She gives him a look when she opens the car door, telling him she knows how many traffic laws he must have broken to get here this quick. He just grins in return, ready to point out the felony in her closet. 

“Where are we going?” He asks, and her heart clenches. He’s so good. He’s so good, and she couldn’t-can’t love him like he wants. She has to tell him. 

Tonight probably wasn’t the best night for this conversation, but her skin feels like it’s peeling off and the faster she says something the quicker it will be over with and she can go back to how it was before. Back when she didn’t have anyone to talk to, because Robin might never speak to her again after she breaks her best friend's heart for the second time. 

Just rip the bandaid off, Nance. 

“I don’t know,” she says instead. Maybe she’s a coward. “A field? Somewhere I can see the stars.”

“I can do that.”

The drive goes by in silence, Nancy staring stubbornly out the window. She can feel Steve periodically checking on her, and she knows he wants to know why she called. She can’t open her mouth to say it in the suffocating enclosure of the car. She rolls down a window. 

They get to a field almost out of Hawkins, and the car is barely in park before she’s climbing out, going around to sit on the hood. Steve cuts the engine and follows. 

She still doesn’t say anything. She called him to have a talk, why can’t she just open her stupid mouth—

“Nancy?” Steve asks, gentle in a way that used to make her melt. She pulls her legs to her chest, feeling vulnerable. “What’s wrong?”

“Jonathan and I broke up,” she finally gets out. 

“Oh shit.” He looks genuinely surprised. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was never going to be forever.” Except she’d thought otherwise. She thought they were Nancy and Jonathan, the two of them against the world. She hunches her shoulders. “We never talk anymore, and he was pulling away from me, and he was lying to me for months-“ she shakes her head, clearing the anger she feels at that. “It doesn’t matter. I’m starting to realize there’s things I need to work on, too. A lot to work on, actually.”

“I don’t know what that could be,” he says, flashing her a smile filled with boyish, roguish charm. “You’re already the best person I know.”

She sniffs, and suddenly she’s crying into her knees, shoulders shaking. He freezes beside her, before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leans in for a second, chasing the comfort, before remembering what she came here to do and ripping away violently. 

“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t—I can’t—this isn’t what I—“

“Hey,” he soothes. “Slow down. Let it out.”

She wipes her eyes, suddenly furious. “I don’t want to date you,” she says, finally looking him in the eyes. “I don’t—I’m sorry for calling you. I just remembered how much better you used to make me feel, but then I realized that’s like…really shitty of me.”

“Why?” He asks, as if Nancy didn’t come out here to break his heart again. “I want to make you feel better. I like knowing I can make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” she says, mouth screwing up. “That’s why I called you out here. And I know it’s shitty of me—“

“Nancy, you’re not leading me on. I…I don’t want to date you either.”

That stops her in her tracks. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he echoes quietly. “I—don’t take this the wrong way, okay, ‘cause I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole saying it, but, uh, I can’t do that again. And even outside of that, I don’t like you that way anymore. Uh, sorry.”

She tries not to sag at the overwhelming relief she feels at that. 

“Are you sure?” She studies him closely, trying to see if he’s saying this for her sake or if he means it. “Back in the Upside-Down, and when we were fighting Venca, it seemed…”

He grimaces, and Nancy thinks if it wasn’t dark she’d see the beginning of an embarrassed flush on his ears. “I…may have been feeling things,” he admits. “I was testing the waters, I guess. I started feeling nostalgic, and you were there, and everyone was encouraging me, and it all just ended up in this weird…feelings soup. Sorry.”

“You said you wanted to have six kids with me,” Nancy reminds him. “And travel the country in a Winnebago.”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “I am,” he says, “so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That had to be so weird for you.”

“It was kind of sweet?” She tries, not letting her relief show. Not yet. 

“We haven’t been together in years, and I decided to tell you I used to dream about you having my babies. How do you deal with me?”

“Well it helps to know you were dropped on your head. Puts everything in perspective.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuk it up.” He looks at her, really looks at her, and she tries not to fidget under his gaze. Too earnest, too caring for someone who doesn’t deserve it. He’s always tried so hard. To woo her, to be a better person, to keep back the vicious streak she still sees in him. “I meant it, when I said I loved you,” he tells her gently, no sign of that cruelty that had him painting her as a whore for the whole town to see. “Back then, I mean. I just wanted you to know that.”

She wants to cry. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back.”

“It’s okay,” he says like he means it. He leans back against the windshield, looking at the sky. After a moment, she copies him. 

They watch the stars together, and the air feels clearer. 

“Where do we go from here?” She asks, afraid of the answer. 

“What do you mean?”

“What happens with us now?”

“Well,” he says gingerly, like he’s testing the waters. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend.”

Friends. She doesn’t know that she and Steve have ever been friends, not properly. Even after the apologies they made to each other, she doesn’t know that she could call what they had friendship. It wasn’t substantial on its own, needing Jonathan as the barrier between them. When it fell, so did they. 

“I haven’t had a friend in a while,” she admits. “Robin is kind of a novelty for me. She’s amazing.”

It’s funny, in a way. She was so jealous of Robin, of how close she was with Steve in a way Nancy wasn’t. She’d thought, at first, that it was because they were so clearly dating. After Robin told her they weren’t, she realized how badly she’d just wanted friends. She missed hanging out with Steve, missed his laugh and his squint and his bitchy attitude. She’d hoped that eventually they’d get to that point, was sure they were almost there before Starcourt. In a way, she’d been jealous of Robin for stealing Steve. She knew it was ridiculous. Steve had found a friend, a real friend who hadn’t cheated on him or slept with his girlfriend. She couldn’t begrudge him that. 

She just missed him. 

“She is, isn’t she?” Steve grins, but sobers up quickly. “I didn’t really think about that. How lonely you must be, since…”

She’s already shaking her head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t reach out.” 

“I didn’t exactly reach out either.”

They fall silent again, at a loss for words. Barb’s death, as always, the canyon between them. 

Finally Nancy huffs. “It’s both of our faults,” she declares, “or neither of our faults. I don’t know. I just missed you.”

“Well shit, Nance, I missed you too,” he says, touched. 

“I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend too, you know,” she says, glancing at him. He smiles. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Nancy Wheeler, I would be honored to be friends with you,” he says, and sticks out his hand to shake, like they’re meeting for the first time. 

She stares at him, and starts laughing. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

She shakes his hand. 

Max has always felt like a mirror. One Nancy wanted to smash, pull her out of the shards of her reflective grief and hug. Stroke her hair the way she wanted someone to do for her and say you’ll get through this. So Max could hear it from someone who knows. 

Except Nancy doesn’t know anything. Still drowns in her guilt, the ball and chain dragging her into the depths. She can’t help when she’s still such a mess, three years later. 

Her hands clench when Mike says Max is pulling away from Lucas. She wishes she could look her in the eye and tell her you don’t have to be me. You can be better. 

She’s Mike’s friend. They barely know each other outside of a quick hello as they cross paths or fighting monsters. Max has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need her friend’s weird older sister butting in to tell her how to mourn the right way. 

Nancy just hopes she’s getting out of bed. Remembering to eat. Brushing her teeth. She had more cavities in the year after Barb died than she’d ever had in her life, and she knows Max doesn’t have insurance. 

Now, sitting next to Max’s hospital bed, Nancy wishes she’d reached out. 

With school back comes studying, and with studying comes Eddie Munson, in all his super-senior glory. Nancy is going to get him a diploma if it kills her. 

He laughs when she tells him so. “Shit, Wheeler,” he says. “The day something manages to get you is the day this shithole goes down for good.”

Robin turns down her offer to form a study group. “I’m pretty sure if I joined, I’d just distract Eddie, and let him distract me, and we’d end up throwing things at each other until you killed us. Sorry. Steve’s going to help me study for finals, though!”

She looks at Steve, eyebrow raised. She’s pretty sure it’s fair to be dubious, since she was the reason Steve passed his finals in the first place. 

“I’m her rubber duck,” he says as an explanation, and she nods in understanding. 

Her mom isn’t about to let her study alone with a boy in her room, though, and especially not a boy like Eddie, so she drags him to the library three times a week. He complains, he bitches, he tells her he doesn’t care about his fucking history class anymore. She just hands him a Rubik’s Cube she found to keep his hands busy as she quizzes him. 

Three sessions in, he slowly puts a worksheet down and screams into his hands. 

“Stop that!” She kicks him in the shin. “If you get me kicked out of the library I’m never forgiving you.”

“I can’t do it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m so fucking stupid, Nancy. I can’t even get past question two. Is this torture? Did I die and go to hell? That would be fitting, wouldn’t it? Doomed to repeat high school for the rest of eternity?”

“Stupid” her ass. She knows what kind of work goes into those campaigns of his, has absently flipped through his annotated fantasy novels and left feeling as if she’d seen the story anew. Plus, she went and made a tape of everyone’s favorite songs, just in case, and she knew damn well how quickly he’d taught himself to play the song he did in the Upside-Down. “Stupid” and “Eddie Munson” don’t belong in the same sentence, much less belong in the same space in his brain. She hates Hawkins High just a little bit more for it. “Stop being dramatic. What are you stuck on?”

“Fucking nothing! I can’t focus, it’s driving me fucking insane. I keep trying, I swear, but it’s like I can’t even read anymore! This always happens, I swear to God it’s killing me more than the fucking demobats ever did.”

“Don’t joke about that,” she snaps. “You’re smart, Eddie, you know that. You just need to try.”

His face twists, and she realizes that was the wrong thing to say. 

“Oh, thank you, Miss Wheeler, why haven’t I thought of that? Sorry for wasting your time, I’ll get out of your perfect hair now—“

“Sit down,” she protests as he gathers up his stuff. “Eddie, I’ll help you work through the problem, okay? Just sit down, please.”

“No, Nancy!” He swings around, eyes wild. “It’s what everyone always says. Just sit still, stop doodling, be quiet, pay attention, try fucking harder…I tried, okay! I’ve been trying, I tried for fifteen fucking years, and I can’t do it! I might as well just drop out and get it over with. I’m fucking sick of this.”

“Okay!” She feels herself getting riled up. “You want to fail so bad, fine! I’m not your keeper, do whatever you want.”

“I will!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

They stare at each other, not moving. Finally Eddie storms off in a huff, flinging open the library door in a grand gesture she pretends not to see. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she can ignore it. 

She pretends not to notice when he comes slinking back five minutes later, shuffling his feet. 

“Sorry.”

“For what?” She asks primly, going over her notes. 

“Nancy, please.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry too. I’m just…frustrated.”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty frustrating,” he offers. 

“It’s not…”

“It is,” he says, sitting down. “It’s okay. God knows I piss myself off with this shit.”

She studies him, looking over his defeated face like he’s one of her flashcards. “You’re trying your best,” she says, sounding it out. She can’t really make sense of it. After all, trying her best has always been straight A’s, not stopping until she knew everything she needed to and more. 

“It’s not good enough.”

“It will be,” she says. “You’ve got me this time.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to help—“

“Do you want fries?”

“What?” He blinks at her, shocked, as she starts packing up her things.  

“We’re not getting anywhere today. Sometimes you have to step back, and come back with a clearer head.” Usually she locks her door and cleans her guns, the repetitive motion soothing her mind until she can think again, but she has a feeling that won’t work for Eddie. 

“I usually just give up.”

“I don’t. Get your backpack, we’re going to the diner. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

At the diner, he makes her laugh so hard soda comes out her nose. The next day, they go to the library again. 

After a couple of days, he solves the cube. After three weeks, he nearly kicks her door down rushing to show her the B he got on a test. 

Two months later, he throws his cap into the air and his cane on the ground. Swings her around, both of them laughing. 

“Nancy fucking Wheeler!” He crows. “Achieving the impossible yet again!”

“Eddie, put me down!” She shrieks gleefully as he stumbles. She barely makes it back to solid ground before two more bodies are slamming into them, Steve and Robin whooping in their ears. 

It was weird, to see Steve and Robin effortlessly communicate the way she and Jonathan always had and have it be so unabashedly unromantic. She’d always thought that knowing someone like that was a sign you were meant to be, and they did it while still loudly proclaiming Platonic with a capital P. 

She and Jonathan didn’t do it much anymore. It was like dancing to a song that was always a beat off, syncing for just one moment before stumbling again, unsure that they were still allowed this. 

She’d known him better than anyone, once, and he’d known her the same. Now she wonders if that was ever true. 

“So,” Eddie says, throwing himself onto her bed. “Steve.”

She sits in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“You broke up with Jonathan, right? Are you going to get back with him? I thought you would, but it's been months and neither of you said anything.”

“No,” she says. “No, that’s not what I want. It’s not what either of us want.”

“Really?” He rolls over, eyes searching. “What happened there, anyway? With both your boys. I’m a nosy little asshole, and I wanna hear it from you.”

It makes her laugh, the way he admits to it so freely. He grins wolfishly at her, baring his teeth in a grin. That’s probably why she tells him the truth. 

“I wasn’t okay, when I was with Steve,” she says honestly. “I was distant, grieving…I was a mess, and I stayed with him because I didn’t know what else to do. With Jonathan…I was getting closure, I was healing, and things were good between us. They were so good, but after a while, we just started to…deteriorate. I don’t know if we lost momentum, or if the stress just got to us, but we started fighting more and more,” She traces the desk with a finger, remembering the sour taste of Oliver Twist on her tongue. It was a shitty thing to say. “I thought we’d figured it out, for a little while, but then we just…stopped talking. I think, maybe if we’d talked more, we could have worked it out. But I’m…not upset that we didn’t, you know?”

It’s a different kind of loneliness when your partner won’t talk to you. It was different than grieving, different than not having anyone to talk to at all. Because even when she didn’t have friends, she had Jonathan. And then, slowly, she didn’t anymore. 

“Nancy, you’re one of my best friends, so-”

“Steve is your best friend.”

“Steve is my best best friend,” she agrees. “But he’s also more than that? Like, I think we’re literally soulmates. Platonic with a capital P soulmates, but, like, it feels like more than friendship sometimes? Like sometimes it’s like he can literally feel my bad days even when I haven’t talked to him yet. He told me once he just knows sometimes. It’s like I hit my hip on my desk and he felt it, but emotionally. It’s wild. It’s like the drugs literally combined our minds. Where was I going with this?”

“I don’t know,” she says, slightly bewildered. She wants to ask how they do that, but Robin barrels forward. 

“Right. So outside of mine and Steve’s platonic more-than-friendship, you’re kind of my best friend? And you’re, like, the coolest person I know.”

She blinks. She’s not sure she’s ever been described as cool before. 

After Barb, Nancy tried to cut her own hair. 

Her mom found her in the bathroom, unshed tears in her eyes and hair a mess on the sink and floor. 

She hadn’t laughed, hadn't said oh, honey, your beautiful hair. Just clucked her tongue and took the scissors from her hands. Stepped behind her and took over, took the uneven mess and made it something good, something presentable. 

She didn’t say anything until she was done, setting the scissors on the counter. “Sometimes,” she said, wetting her lips. “Sometimes we need a change, before we can move forward.”

The closer she gets to Emerson, the more she feels like she’s letting someone down. Mike. Max. Jonathan. All the people who have relied on her, all the people who trusted her to fight.

In a strange turn of events, her mom is the only one she doesn’t feel is disappointed in her. Her mom is more excited about college than she is sometimes. Chattering excitedly over dishes about the classes she’s going to take as Nancy dries and smiles and tries not to feel like the ground is being pulled from under her feet.

This is everything she’s ever wanted. Why does it feel so wrong?

She takes Eddie to the gun range, because having a gun in her hands has always made her feel safer. More in control. More like the badass protector she wants to be, than the scared little girl she feels sometimes. 

Eddie stares down the scope of the gun and shoots like he has experience, but doesn’t hit a single bullseye. 

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m in a fucking gun range and a bunch of small town hicks were hunting me not too long ago,” he snaps, taking another shot and missing the target completely. He swears and changes the magazine. “Excuse me if I’m a little bit on edge.” 

She hadn’t really thought of it like that. “You didn’t have to come,” she says. “I just thought with everything that’s happened, you should know how to use one. Just in case.”

“I know how to use a gun,” he rolls his eyes. 

“You know how to shoot one.” She looks from him to the target pointedly. “Not the same thing.”

“Deep. I could really feel the judgement there. Tell me, is there anything else wrong with me?”

“There’s security cameras all over this place. We’re not in Hawkins, so there’s no mob coming after you. I’m here, and I do know how to use a gun. No one is going to hurt you here.”

“I know all that.”

“Do you?”

He scowls at her. She looks back unflinchingly. She’s been here plenty of times, and the guys laughed at her until they didn’t anymore. By the time she brought Eddie, all she got was a raised eyebrow and a “boyfriend?” from Hunter at the desk. She didn’t know what was more incriminating, so she just shrugged. 

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She rolls her eyes, taking the gun from his hands and lining up a shot. “I’ve heard worse,” she says, thinking about Nancy Dre-ew, and Nancy “the slut” Wheeler, and priss, and shoots. It hits the bullseye. 

So do her next five shots. 

Eddie looks begrudgingly impressed when she reloads and hands the gun back to him. It’s more satisfying than it should be, to realize that while he’d known she had guns he’s never seen her actually shoot before. 

She raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and he huffs around a smile. “All right, all right,” he says good naturedly. “Let’s try this again.”

He does a little better this time around, now that he’s actually trying. He does a little dance when he hits one of the inner rings. 

“Take that!” He crows. “I bet Steve couldn’t do this. In your face, Harrington!”

“He’s much more of a close-combat kind of guy, isn’t he?” Nancy agrees. 

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” he says. “Does he really have a bat with nails?”

She blinks, caught off guard by the fact that Eddie hadn’t seen it. She never registered that he hadn’t used it during Vecna. Something about the fact seems weird somehow, as if it was as integral to Steve as his coiffed hair. “He keeps it in his trunk.”

“You and Byers need to update your Steve manuals. He said it’s under his bed now.”

“Ah,” Nancy says, thinking of all the times she’s slept with her pistol under her pillow. Empty, because she’s not stupid enough to sleep with a loaded gun when her little brother sometimes wakes her up after a nightmare, but the comforting weight of it alone makes it easier. 

“Just tell me one thing,” he says, widening his eyes imploringly at her. “Did he look as sexy as I think he did? Byers won’t give me a straight answer.”

It’s a joke, but his cheeks are a little pink. She’s not dumb, she’s seen the looks the two of them share, as if he and Steve were circling each other. Caught in a whirlpool, waiting for the moment the vortex would drag them down and they could finally touch. 

The looks between Eddie and Jonathan, too, that share a certain camaraderie she doesn’t entirely understand and at the same time understands all too well. Steve and Jonathan had always had a strange relationship, too close to not be friendship but not quite there. Surprisingly enough it was better after she and Steve broke up, Jonathan no longer avoiding them and the talk she’d forced the three of them into clearing the air. Sometimes, she’d wake up to Jonathan climbing into her bed, smelling of cigarettes and a hint of something stronger, and he’d tell her it was Steve who drove him there. 

She’s a journalist. It’s her job to notice things. She just wasn’t ready to confront that reality, where the two boys she’d wanted wanted each other as well. But she’s grown since then. 

She also knows that whoever Steve chooses, it won’t be easy. 

“You know,” she says, considering, “when we were dating, Steve never pressed me up against the wall or anything you’d expect from the King.”

Eddie gets this look on his face, caught between confusion and caught out. “…okay? Did you want him to do that or something? Are you trying to ask me to hint to him?”

“No,” she says. “I’m just saying, he never did any of that. It was kind of funny. He always made it so that he was the one pressed against the wall.”

Eddie misses the next five shots entirely, and she laughs at him through it all.

She’s hyper aware of touching other girls now. She didn’t used to be. Even with Robin, who is a lesbian and definitely won’t hate her. Who’s probably gone through the same thing. She can’t help it. 

What if they get the wrong idea? What if someone else sees? What if they can tell, what if they know, what if they hate me?

She hates feeling like this. She doesn’t know why it started, doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s no stranger to casual affection—or at least she didn’t used to be. Why does it make her feel so tense now? It’s been years since she realized she liked girls, shouldn’t this have happened back then?

Deep down, she knows why. The Reagan sign in her front yard. Her dad sitting in his chair, the news always on. “Always that nasty disease, Karen, I swear some people are just asking for it.” She’s always known she could never tell him, but now she knows that if she gets sick he’ll say she deserves it. She doesn’t know what her mother thinks. She’s afraid to find out. 

She’s growing up, and her fear is growing with her. 

Objectively, Nancy knows she and Eddie don’t make sense. 

They’re not cut from the same cloth, like Steve and Robin. They don’t calm each other down, like Jonathan and Argyle. They’re too different, too alike in all the wrong ways, for them to get along. They’re both snappy, a little mean. Eddie’s dramatic enough to get on her nerves, and she’s prim enough to get on his. At their worst, they have earth shattering arguments that end in them not speaking to each other for days. 

When people see them walking down the street together, they whisper about “that nice girl Nancy Wheeler” and “that awful Munson boy.”

It’s not fair, never has been. Nancy hasn’t felt nice for a long time, maybe before Barb ever disappeared. Eddie isn’t always particularly nice either, but the court of public opinion takes it to extremes, twists him into something cruel instead of the kindness he carries under his leather armor. Someone to keep their children away from. It really is a shame, because Eddie loves kids in a way Nancy never has. She can see it in the way he interacts with them, his bright smile fading when a parent comes to drag them away. Even when he’s expecting it, his face falls, just for an instant, before spinning around with a grin that won’t reach his eyes. 

Nancy wants to take him out of here. There’s an offer on the tip of her tongue that she knows he’d refuse.

He’s not her brother, but he’s not…unlike one. It’s almost like talking to an older, flashier Mike. He’s annoying, is what he is. He picks at her, keeps pressing over the littlest things. Tries to get under her skin, succeeds, until she’s on the verge of stabbing him with her pencil. Looks triumphant whenever Robin has to grab her arm to drag her away, rambling an excuse about “some girl thing I totally forgot, yeah it’s an emergency,” while Steve drags him the other way to have bro time. 

“She loves it,” she’d heard Eddie crow delightedly once, when Robin didn’t get her out of hearing range fast enough. “Do you see that fire in her eyes?”

“Do I?” She asked Robin. “Love it?”

“I mean, far be it from me to tell you what you do and don’t like,” Robin answered. “But, uh, as far as I can tell, you totally love it. You look like you’re going to rip him to pieces and enjoy it, and he loves that. I didn’t think you’d be this much of a nightmare together, seriously, like, how are you two at each other’s throats one second and then best friends the next? Steve and I have debated locking you in a bathroom until you get along, but we’re kind of afraid you’ll kill each other.”

So no, Nancy and Eddie don’t get along. They’re kind of a nightmare together. They don’t make sense, and they don’t try to. They have other friends, who they get along with better, that they can seek out. 

But when Eddie knocks on her window, the only surprise is that he could even get there. 

“How?” She hisses, opening the window. He tumbles in, doesn’t even try to play off the utter gracelessness he’s displaying. 

“Wowie, I am never doing that again,” he breathes, flat on his back. “You’re going to have to help me down the stairs when I leave, had to leave my cane at the bottom and I cannot get back down that way.”

She doesn’t even want to know what he had to do to get up on her roof with his bad leg. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m but another lover, nothing but an ant in the face of your unwavering beauty, my queen,” he says, batting his eyes at her. The dramatics don’t hit the way he intends, given that he’s stuck on the floor. He holds a hand out pleadingly, and she rolls her eyes, hauling him up until she can get him to her bed. 

“Never mind.” She puts her hands on her hips, a gesture that is so obviously Steve she removes them immediately. From the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he notices.

She tries not to be jealous. She tries, she swears, but…

Three of the four (five? she doesn’t know what Argyle thinks of her) friends she has are dating each other. Two of them dated her, first. She can’t help but wonder, if she’d known that was an option, if everything would have been different. If she wouldn’t have this aching bitterness between her teeth. 

(Nothing would have changed, she knows. She’d been too desperate for other things. Trying so hard with Steve so her best friend didn’t die for nothing. Staying with Jonathan because he understood her more than anyone else, so maybe they didn’t need to talk. It wouldn’t have helped anything. She still wonders.)

It doesn’t matter. What’s past is past, and she needs to move forward. She can’t stop to think about could-have-beens, because thinking about boys is what got her into this mess in the first place. 

She closes her eyes, taking a shaky breath. That’s not fair. None of this is fair. None of it is fucking fair because Nancy stopped caring about fair when Barb died. 

She needs a drink. She needs a nap. She needs to stop feeling like Atlas with the world on her shoulders. 

She doesn’t do any of that. She calls Robin.

“Barb was my first kiss.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Nancy says, and keeps talking, because Barb is dead and Robin is a lesbian and she’s long forgotten what Barb’s favorite chapstick was back then. “We were seven, and I liked it but I didn’t know if I liked her. But I was convinced I was going to marry her, until my mom told me that girls don’t marry other girls. And I knew she liked girls when she died. She told me when we were fifteen, and I didn’t know the word bisexual but I knew I loved her and that was all that mattered. Not—not like that, not romantic, or maybe it was but it doesn’t matter because she was my best friend and I still love her but she’s gone forever. I loved her.”

She feels Robin lay a tentative hand on her back. 

“I had to look her parents in the eye and pretend. All those fucking NDA’s, I had to pretend there was hope. Pretend she was still missing. It was like everyone forgot about her except for me and them, and they sold their house to find their dead daughter and I wasn’t supposed to say anything and Steve kept reminding me about the fucking NDA’s—“

 “Nancy…”

“It’s my fault,” Nancy says, staring at the water. “I lumped in Steve, because it was easier than being alone. He didn’t know her like I did. She was worried about me. She stayed because she cared, and look where that got her.”

“That’s bullshit!” Robin’s eyes are wide, and she waves her hands around as she talks. “If it’s anyones fault, it’s those—those scientist guys experimenting on El! They knew there was a problem, and they tried to cover it up instead of making sure people were safe. You didn’t know it was dangerous. How were you supposed to know it was going to end up as anything other than normal teenage drama? None of this is supposed to be real, you didn’t know—“

“But I left her,” Nancy cuts in. “I left her alone to go lose my virginity to a boy she didn’t even like—“

“He was your boyfriend, it shouldn’t have mattered if she liked him—“

“It doesn’t matter!” Nancy shouts, and Robin falls silent, mouth still moving. “It doesn’t fucking matter how it happened, because it did and now she’s dead and she’s never coming back and it’s all my fault.”

Nancy is sick of crying. Sick of feeling helpless. Sick of not being able to change the past. 

“It’s not just Barb. I took Fred to the trailer park—he didn’t even want to be there, and now he’s dead. Eddie needs a cane, Max is almost completely blind and might never walk again and it was my plan that put them there. My plan that almost killed them. I’m responsible—“

“Fuck that.”

“Robin…”

“No, you listen to me, Nancy Wheeler,” Robin says, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever known. Max would have died without that plan. We all would have died. Venca-slash-Henry-slash-One would have won without that plan, and I am not going to sit here and listen to you blame yourself for saving lives. And-and Fred! Venca had already marked him, you know that. You couldn’t have done anything! And Barb is not your fault, okay? I-I-I know I can’t convince you, but I’ll say it as many times as it takes until you start believing it, because it’s true. You didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill anyone.”

“I killed Bruce,” she says, just to prove Robin wrong. And isn’t that shitty of her, to forget about him until she can use him to prove a point? She’s a fucking awful person.

“I don’t know who Bruce is, but given your track record I highly doubt that.”

“I bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher.”

Robin pauses, and Nancy’s stomach sinks. This is it, she thinks. This is what will convince her, this is what will make her see that I’m wrong, that I’m poison-

“What was he doing?”

“What?”

“Bruce. You had to have a reason for it. What was he doing?”

It’s like Robin doesn’t even care that Nancy just admitted to first degree murder. “He was flayed,” she admits, knowing Robin will take it as proof that she’s right.

“That’s not murder, that’s self defense,” Robin says, just like she knew she would. “Also, if he was flayed he was already dead. Sorry, I’m sticking to your side on this.”

“But I’m less torn up about killing my asshole coworker than I am about anything else. How does that not make me a monster?”

“He was already dead, Nancy!” Robin shakes her. “You’re not beating yourself up over it because you know he was already dead, a-a-and I know you’re using him to try and push me away and I won’t let you.”

“Robin…” she says, tears springing to her eyes. She’s so fucking sick of crying. So sick of the way she never seems to stop anymore. 

“Nancy,” Robin says. “None of us are going to leave you. Stop trying to make us.”

She pulls her into a hug, and Nancy sags into it, boneless. 

There, sandwiched between the sky and the water, Nancy starts to feel like she could forgive herself. 

“Nancy,” Steve says, putting a hand on her shoulder and ducking his chin to look her in the eye. “They won’t be alone.”

Tears well up, unbidden, at the way he seems to understand her now in a way he never did before. 

“I want this,” she insists. 

“I know you do,” he says. “Which is why you’re going to go out there, kick ass, and take names. We’ll be here, okay? We’ll keep an eye on them.”

“I know you will.” She swipes a hand across her eyes. “Can you talk to Holly, too? She gets lonely.”

Steve smiles. He’d always loved Holly, when they were dating. He used to braid her hair sometimes. Asked her about her drawings, her TV shows, listened to her talk with the same attentiveness Nancy’s father had never shown any of them. He’ll be a good dad, someday. To someone else’s children.

“I’ll talk to Holly,” he promises. “Does she still like princesses?”

“Ladybugs,” she says. “It’s ladybugs, now.”

“Ladybugs. I can do that. Black and red, and they’re all ladies. What’s not to like?”

“There are male ladybugs.”

“Wait, seriously?”

She laughs, tearfully, but they’re happy tears. Steve wipes them away gently, and she smiles at him to let him know she’s okay. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

“You’re the best person I know, Nancy Wheeler,” he replies, achingly sincere. “You’re gonna have the whole world under your thumb, I just know it. Ever thought of running for President?”

“Can’t be worse than the one we have now,” she says, grimaces as her own joke lands too bitterly to be funny. She sees his jaw tighten before he forces himself to relax. 

“I’d vote for you.”

She grins at him, sharp to punch through the tension she’d made. “I’ll make Eddie my Vice President.”

“Oh, fuck no. You lost me,” he says, and Eddie makes an offended noise from where he’s stealing snacks from the glovebox. Jonathan swats him, and she smiles at him too. He smiles back, tentatively, and wanders to her side. 

“You gonna be okay up there?” He asks quietly. She can hear the guilt in it, still, and she reaches down to squeeze his hand. The one with the scar that matches hers, so their palms line up. It feels full circle, somehow, the three of them together like this. 

“I’ll be okay,” she confirms, and feels the truth of it in her chest. Her boys are here with her, the ones who have been there since the beginning. Eddie’s watching them fondly, munching on a granola bar. Robin is inside somewhere, rambling at her mother. Mike and Holly are probably still bickering over the last cupcake. She loves them so much, all of them. 

“Of course you will,” Steve says. “You’re Nancy fuckin’ Wheeler. Nothing stops you.”

She wants that to be true. She can feel in her bones that it will be. Eighteen has nothing on who she’ll be at thirty. 

She’s Nancy Wheeler, and the world won’t see her coming. 

[snaillock]

your relationship with bllk men as mitski songs

(kaiser, sae, oliver)

my posting has been very slow recently so to celebrate mitskis new album (and to feed into my eternal obsession for her music and lyricism by combining it with another thing im way too obsessed with), i dug up this old ass draft and finished it instead of giving y’all an actual fic

tags: gn!reader, angst(it’s mitski duh), yeah basically no fluff/comfort in here, suggestive-ish in the oliver one, me being a dork and combining two big interests of mine

michael kaiser - i don’t smoke

So if you need to be mean Be mean to me I can take it and put it inside of me If your hands need to break More than trinkets in your room You can lean on my arm As you break my heart

his career can be a lot on his shoulders at times even with the cocky and arrogant facade he puts on for the performance of each match he plays. he has a tendency to keep it all in to bask in the glory of his luxurious life.

you understand. you know he’s currently too prideful to deal with his true feelings, especially all on his own. you just want to be there to know he isn’t alone and that he can be open with you. so you sit there, giving him a listening ear as he lashes out and releases every awful word in the book towards you when everything finally becomes too much for him to bear. you wouldn’t want him to have a very public meltdown when it happens so it’s better this way. you have remind yourself to take none of it to heart because he doesn’t mean those all harsh words. he just needed an outlet for those frustrations.

you also don’t want the weight and significance of his career to separate you two. you’re already so damn lucky to be with someone like him. you want to prove that you can handle it. you know you can. you’re sure you can help him figure this all out somehow. love just takes compassion and patience, that’s all it is. just taking it one step at a time.

it’s just compassion and patience. right?

Just don't leave me alone Wondering where you are I am stronger than you give me credit for

sae itoshi - i want you

You're coming back And it's the end of the world We're starting over and I love you darlin' And I am done, dear

he swears he will make time for you someday. sure those words have been promised over and over again like a broken record but he truly does love you. however you’re starting to wonder if mutual love is truly enough to keep you two going.

the truth is his life is currently too big and important for him to take any focus away from it. the last thing he needs is a distraction. all of which he has very clear multiple times, even along with his contrastingly hopeful promises. though his tone is quite neutral, never letting his emotions seep through as if he’s programmed to do so. meanwhile you have to desperately hold yours back to not seem like an idiot.

it’s never been easy to express how you feel in front of him. you desperately wish you could but the inconsistency of your relationship that’s barely holding up renders it pointless. this over and over/back and forth thing that’s going on between you two is exhausting. it only leaves you lost and confused. you begin to wonder if staying is even worth it at all. even with the speck of hope that it could eventually work out. even if you love him.

You're in the house And I am here in the car I just need a quiet place Where I can scream how I love you

oliver aiku - eric

You like control, well, I do too Take off my clothes and watch me move You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me how you choose

you deeply crave a loving and fulfilling connection with another but unfortunately the other you desire is him. a guy who’s born to be a player and only wants to fool around with multiple people.

you know getting attached would only cause you so much unnecessary pain but your naive heart couldn’t resist him. you know that he doesn’t see you for more than what you give him at night but you were still a fool to fall for him.

enough of a fool to fall for him knowing he’s not ready to settle for one person. you could see it from how you would lovingly gaze at him while he leers at someone else behind you. you would still give yourself up to him if you could, offering anything he wanted out of you.

despite better judgment, you stay with a pained and aching heart. constantly yearning for more.

But how long, how long can we play this way? I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you My heart, my heart wants to hold you But I know, I know, I know the rules

taglist(lemme know if you wanna be added): @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060

[non-stop-imagines]

whenever you’re ready don’t be shy to drop a lil teaser and a release estimate for that Charles fic 🙈

Hehehe, I thought you'd never ask... 😈

(I literally have not read through it yet so this little blurb is horribly unedited;It's also from kind of the middle and broken up into pieces but just enough for you to be able to pick up what I'm putting down 😚)

_____★_____

You decide, for the practice session at least, that you were going to sit up in as private of an area of the Paddock Club you could find. You didn't have the energy to hear anymore "You look different but still cute!" compliment. You knew they all meant well, that in a normal situation you would've loved this type of attention, but when your mind has been flipping through painful past memories where people doubt anything you did and told you that you wouldn't get anywhere dressing the way you did, the last thing you wanted to here was anyone else saying that you're "still cute". Yes, you were fully aware that you got to this point, viral video, and thriving YouTube channel and the hottest, most supportive boyfriend on the planet by being "cute", which was essentially just you being truly and unapologetically you, but what if that cup was running out? What if people initially got pulled in because of that, but expected you to change eventually? What if that was what Charles was thinking?

You had already found an empty table in an unfounded corner of the large open room, a large white wall with a TV screen on it, partitioning you from the rest of the room, giving you the moment of soliace you needed. You even briefly closed you eyes to take a deep breath and ground yourself, and it was working until you heard heels clicking toward you. The quiet attempt at retreating is what finally made you open your eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I saw you and was about to come say hi, but then I saw you trying to...meditate or something..." It was Lily.

"You can sit, you know..." You giggle at the fact that she was still standing, but your small smile falls a bit when you see her eyes moving around your appearance.

"Oh, yeah. I like the look, by the way. It's-" You interrupt her words by with a quick "stop" hand gesture.

"If you say cute, I am going to rip every piece of hair that I have in this claw clip out." The look you gave Lily made her hesitantly finish sitting, and rethink her compliment.

......

"All I have seen were rave reviews about your outfits and how in love Charles is with you." Her hand is finally removed from your person after her comment, reaching in her clutch that was placed on the table and pulling out her phone.

"Yeah. I guess those are the majority, but there have been other ones...meaner ones..." You trail off into your own thoughts while more cars roared by, continuing when you have the prolonged feeling of Lily's eyes on you, waiting to see where you were going with it. "Lily, how often does Alex say you look sexy in something?"

"I-uh-woah. You caught me off guard there, um..." She stopped to seriously consider your question. "I guess kinda often. Especially when he can tell I'm excited about an outfit or it's, like, a special occasion. Why?"

"Charles has only ever said I was "cute". Or "pretty". Or "beautiful". Never sexy. Not even if I try to lead him into saying it." You turn around for a moment to check where Charles stood on the Practice session leaderboard and how much time was left. "I honestly have no idea if Charles thinks I'm sexy."

"Oh, honey. I'm sure he does." Her fingernails went to caressing up and down your back as she turned all of her focus towards you while Alex goes 3rd fastest.

.......

"Lily, you genius!" You exclaimed, catching her off guard again, this time by throwing your arms around her neck and giving her a couple of light, glossy pecks to the cheek.

"Anything to help." You were already typing away at your phone, nearly vibrating with excitement, imagining Charles reaction. Another round of car roaring traveled by, but the speed of those machines had nothing on that of your scrolling thumbs.

[tkthrilla-writes]

OOK OK OK SO I know I have been away for a VERY LONG TIME.

Basically i had to move apartments... TWICE

Started my thesis

And struggled a bit with my work

BUT

I am on a trip and Lord knows I got some ideas while on it!!!!!!!

Imagine being on a work trip and taking an 8 hour long car drive and not being able to do anything but listen to other people fighting over directions and listening to bad modern music. You would just be sitting in the backseat all nice and calm, meanwhile Alastor would be absolutely infuriated with the lack of coordination some people had and the disgusting and obscenely sexual songs. This man is being driven up the walls!!!!!

Cue this man messing with the radio to piss people off more. Making it glitch, randomly turning it off - but since people depended on it for the damned gps he left that part alone since he didn't want to endanger his host and himself to some moron on the wheel driving into a tree or something.

Then came the Spotify queueing playlist rounds. Whenever it was your turn to pick what songs that should be playing you tried to play something that Alastor would enjoy because you could feel his presence becoming more irritated by the second and mixing in more of your songs so that people don't stay skipping your songs.

Most of your selected Alastor specific songs did satisfy him.... But let's just say a few of your songs hit a little WAAAAAAY TOO close to home for him and his current predicament with his host.

Now you finally arrived at your destination, people settle in. and of course you end up getting a room that you have to share with two other people and of course you get the top bunk bed that is absolutely hard to get on because the ladder is right under squished attic ceiling that makes you have to crawl and gymnastics your way up to even sleep.

Alastor was definitely not happy in the few moments that he took over and had to do that. He ended up making you both look like a spider monkey with broken legs failing at crawling.... Which did make a couple people laugh at you ..... He refused to come out and try to enjoy the trip after that.

But then came the day time when you would all go out to do activities. Which mostly consisted of hiking and exploring museums so he was very happy to know you would be keeping up your physical activities despite being away from home while still broadening your horizons and educating yourself on history and art.

Then came that ecursed night half way into the trip. You decided to try going out to a bar/night club. And of course you dress the most decently out of everyone else. And of course you attracted the most attention while out on the dance floor. And of course this nearly mad Alastor reach a breaking point, barely holding it back long enough for you to reject other people's advances. And of course it was about to break for a split second when one of the people you are on a trip with decided to start flirting with you and try to drunkenly seduce you.

Timeskip to the next day and everybody is tense..... Only thing that was audible during breakfast aside from people eating was the very obvious feedback coming out of the stereo coupled with the music. Once breakfast was done people silently shuffled and started to clean up, slowly slowly starting chatter on what was going to be done throughout the day.

Some people wanted to stay in and nurse their hangover from the night before, some wanted to go out to another hike. You feeling sore from all the walking AAANDD trying to get some peace and quiet from people, opted to stay in and just have an easy day - besides there were 3 days left on this trip you can afford a day if resting. Plus you had a feeling that Alastor just wanted to be around less people despite you having a good time so far.

So here you are just in the bathroom, having your own privacy. You put on a playlist that obviously focused mostly on your songs.

The shower was heavenly after a night out at a sticky and sweat bar with Constant Craving in the background. A nice hair scrub to Soulmate Died. A great rinse to Older. And one must not forget the Jam session to the epic Every Breath You Take. Lastly there was that nice face cleaning to Let the World Burn.

And that was when the Radio Demon snapped

A chain around your neck appeared, and with a forceful tug, your nose was up touching the mirror, with your breath fogging it up. Heart rate spiking from the shock. Senses becoming heightened at the figure in the mirror.

All you could see was a shadow.... Alastor's shadow.... With his face directly Infront of yours. Eyes both holding radio dials, smile becoming tight and stretched with stitches on the corners of his mouth as if to try to hold back his face from splitting apart, sharp yellow teeth becoming heightened from the harsh green glow of the chain that seemed to look like it was going right into the mirror. As if holding up a failed attempt to hold himself back, his teeth started to chatter from whatever he was trying not to do.

"You really do not understand what you are doing?" he said, grinding his teeth as his mouth stretched quite literally ear to ear, showing off his teeth.

"I don't know what you are talking about," you said calmly despite your heart beating a million miles in a minute, making the blood rush in your ears nearly the only thing you can hear.

"I could kill you right here, right where you stand."

"And I would still be happy."

"I could snuff out that pretty little life of yours."

"And then I will breath again in my next one."

"I can drag you down to the deepest depths of hell."

"But I will be able in heaven when I'm with you."

A beat if silence

"You really know how to make a man struggle with his inner mist desires Mon Ange....." his smiled started to thin, reaching a small point where blood started to drip out of his mouth, following his jaw line, to drip down. Somehow landing on the sink tap below the mirror.

"Now thats not on me," you say with a slight chuckle, "sounds like a you kind of problem." You taunted, using the sink to lift you up further to place and rest your forehead right where his would be on the mirror. The mirror fogging up with your breath and staining coming in contact with your bare skin.

"You should know by now," he started, you could feel him reciprocating your actions through the mirror, his face coming closer to yours, "that my problem," he lifts his hand up to rest on the mirror, "is your problem too," he ends with you raising your hand to match where his is on the mirror. It was almost like you were holding his hand, the closest form of contact you probably ever come into with eachother.

Till obviously someone outside the bathroom has to ruin the mood with a loud bang on the door "ARE YOU DONE FUCKING YOURSELF IN THERE!!! I REALLY NEED A SHOWER!"

And in an instant "Please let me kill them."

"No Ali." You said calmly used to his shenanigans, leaving the mirror in favour of getting dressed, the chain disappearing the moment you pull away.

Finally came the day to leave, much to your sadness because you were enjoying yourself and really needed the break, and much to Alastor's pleasure because he really despised the company at present.

As a form of self entertainment, when it was your turn to drive in the ungodly hours of the morning and everyone was asleep in the car, he would take over your body so you could sleep and rest as well. A faint semi tight smile present on his face as he finally was able to put on music that he actually truly enjoyed. And when it was someone else's turn - particularly the other person in the car who had the audacity to get drunk and flirt with you - he made sure to scramble a few traffic cameras to view the car as a speeding vehicle so that person may or may not have a surprise ticket or two when they get home.

AND THATS IT EVERYBODY - NOW ALL OF YOU GO TO HORNY JAIL!