#i think it smells like singed hair and smoke.

[girlboyburger]

what do you guys think going through a nether portal feels like?

[sjyuns]

HEAVENLY ┆ A PARK SUNGHOON ONESHOT

SYNOPSIS! park sunghoon has put a curse on you after smashing you heart into a million pieces — that you’d never be able to find anyone comparable to him. and now he’s back, cocky and flirty as ever to prove that he’s the only one you’d ever need.

GENRE! playboy! sunghoon x fem reader, kiss his face with an uppercut romance, exes to lovers, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff, angst

CAUTION! cursing, party, attempt of writing heartbreak angst, slightly toxic (?) behaviour, make out scenes, cheating allegations, sunghoon douchebag, sunghoon has major confrontation issues, smoking

WORDCOUNT! 9.5k

MIKAELA’S! IM BACK, he’s back. playboy hoon! finally writing after like three months, it’s not the best so please forgive me. written to CIGARETTES AFTER SEX’s discography. feedback and reblog are appreciated! NOT PROOFREAD

TEASER SERIES MASTERLIST

WHERE IT’S SO SWEET AND HEAVENLY

THE VERY definition of sin and salvation, Park Sunghoon brings out the best of you in the worst ways. The first, your first — your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first love.

He pulls you in and invades your senses, every careless whisper, every note passed in class, every make out session in dim empty classrooms, Sunghoon makes you yearn for him and you would be able to tell him apart from everyone else by touch and smell alone.

You still remember the summer two years ago, when you sat in the passenger seat of his convertible, wind in your hair as you had the greatest time in your life.

“Frozen?” You say as the radio in his car starts blasting ‘let it go’, and Sunghoon looks over to you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why not?” He says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other moving to brush a strand of your hair back, “Elsa and Anna are pretty cool.” He holds your hand, thumb caressing the smooth skin of yours as he watches you throw your head back, laughter ringing through the air at his words.

“They are,” you agree with a giggle before your other hand fists to your lips as a microphone. And you sing with him, at the top of your lungs. That summer, in his passenger seat, you fell irrationally and irrevocably in love.

He looks at you, trying to catch his breath, and he adores — the way your lips curve up into the prettiest smile, the way you radiate warmth, and the way you’re you, intoxicating, captivating, and all together godly.

And he kisses you like his life depends on it. It’s soft, hot, desperate, and tender all at once. Your lips smooth, falling open at the brush of his tongue and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, teeth tugging at your lips, fingers twined into your hair before he breaks it only to barely press his lips onto your again, shifting from the corner of your lips to the centre, and then to the rest of your face, tiny pecks everywhere, as if he was worshipping you.

“Let’s do this again when we’re eighty,” he whispers, eyes locked onto you and forehead pressed against yours.

“You really think we’d make it till eighty?” You ask, and Sunghoon wears that infamous grin of his. A scoff leaves his lips as he replies, “baby we’d still be together even if you’re in heaven and I’m stuck in hell.”

“You don’t think we’d ever break up?” You question, and he chuckles at your innocence. Him? Breaking up with you? And he wonders if you realise the way he looks at you, how he kisses you like your lips are heaven.

“No way, princess,” he murmurs, bending over to place a ghost of a kiss on your lips, “I could be clinically insane or have the worst memory lost but I’d never forget how in love with you I am.”

How stupid you were to indulge in such empty promises. You should have known, been more aware that you could never change him — his habit of losing feelings fast.

How quickly he threw away a year of memories, how he kissed it off you and how you couldn’t help but comply, tears rolling down your cheeks. And you hated the way his face flashed a glimpse of regret — as if he was sorry he got caught.

“She pushed herself on me, love. As soon as she heard footsteps approaching.” Sunghoon pleaded, and you truly wanted to believe him. The way his hair was unusually dishevelled, his eyes full of pain. Yet all you could envision when you saw him was the picture of his body against one that was not yours, looking at her the way he looked at you.

“I really can’t handle this right now Sunghoon,” you cry, twisting your wrist out of his hold. Sunghoon feels his heart crush — he hears it. It chips off piece by piece as he watches you crumble to the ground, hands over your face and he wants to go over to console you yet his feet are glued to the ground.

“I swear,” he whispers, soft yet it shakes both hearts in the room, “you and me.”

Your head hurts and nothing matches up. Maybe you’re a coward for not choosing to fight or maybe you’re just too tired. “I can’t,” your voice cracking uglily, “I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“I love you,” you say, vision stuck on the floorboards, too scared to look at Sunghoon’s expression — was it pain like yours was, or was it joy and excitement at breaking yet another girl’s heart, “so much Hoon,” you manage to croak out.

“And I’d always trust you, but I need some time to process this, alone.”

That was the breaking point, when his heart shattered into small sharp shards of fragile vulnerability. It just seemed like yesterday when the both of you laid side by side and swore your forevers. He was never one for love and romance but now he gets it.

There wasn’t any point living if it’s not with you.

And he blames himself — his previous actions and deeds that cursed him for life, the karma that haunted him for his unrighteousness. Maybe he does deserve it, he thinks, if this was what every other girl felt like when he had broken things up with them.

“Please,” he muttered, eyes red and tears running down. Sunghoon doesn’t know who he’s talking to anymore; if he was begging you to stay by his side or begging himself to stop inflicting pain on your precious heart.

“Not now,” your chest squeezes and your rib cage traps your ferociously beating heart to hold it in its place as you make a rash decision, “I don’t want to see you.”

Sunghoon thinks he could’ve turned into a grotesque monster the way you shunned him out. All bloody and contorted, far away from the charm he once used to hold. And he wants to disagree, yet he murmurs the heavy words of agreement.

You only hear the shuffling of feet — one that you can recognise from miles away, before the door clicks close and your throat burns from the loud sobs emitted from your heart.

As much as you wanted to indulge in such a cliche that you could be the one person who changed his way, this was sadly reality. That Park Sunghoon never belonged to you the way you belonged to him.

He’d always be wanted everywhere he went, and you don’t know if you’d ever be able to handle that.

ONE YEAR LATER

You’re kissing a boy whose name you don’t remember. Is it Park Jaemin or Park Jaeon? Is his surname even Park? Eyes closed and lips on lips, and it isn’t very polite of you to rate a boy’s kiss, but it’s all you can do to satisfy your boredom as his teeth carelessly bites down on your tongue. Fucking hell, you think, as you break the kiss only to meet the boy’s apologetic expression, it’s a two out of ten.

Dreading to tell your friends about yet another terribly gone blind date, you force a tight lipped smile as you wave goodbye to the boy whose cheeks are flushed red. As cute as he looked, you wished you would never see him again.

“God, why are men like this,” you complain right as you open the doors to your dorm room. Karina, your dorm mate and self proclaimed best friend sits up on her bed, patting the spot next to her in eagerness, ready to listen to yet another night of whining.

“It can’t be as bad as the lifeguard guy,” she says, tilting her head to examine your fatigued expression, “how was the kiss this time round?”

You don’t even bother saying it out, you didn’t even want to think about it again. Simply raising two fingers up at her, your back hits the soft cushion of Karina’s bed, a loud sigh leaving your lips.

“Still not comparable to,” she pauses, looking at you warily before continuing, “him?”

Him. God, it’s insane that he’s still stuck in your mind a year after he mercilessly stepped on your heart. You stay silent, and that’s all it takes for your dorm mate to flop down beside you, a big sigh leaving her lips as well.

You’re over him. You’re over Park Sunghoon. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. But despite days and nights of going out again and again with different boys to forget about him, changing habits and sleep schedules to leave memories with him behind, deep inside your heart you know that you’ll never get over Park Sunghoon.

He’s the reason why any blind date your parents set you up with doesn’t go smoothly. You’re picky, and you can’t seem to find a boy comparable to him. And you fault Sunghoon for making you like this — overly obsessed with the composition of people.

Like every boring blind date starts, the boy picks you up, drives you to your favourite restaurant and asks you the same questions, “what do you study?”, “how are you liking school?”, and oftentimes questions of more substance like, “how was your day today?” At least with those kinds of questions your answer could vary.

And everytime you get asked such questions you can’t help but remember him. Park Sunghoon, who told you that he practised knotting his tie an hour a day to prepare for your very first date together. How he likes KitKats so much but he’s boycotting Nestle so he doesn’t buy them, and how he absolutely hates the taste of coffee, but drinks it to look cool.

Your eyes start to burn slightly, and you squeeze them shut, trying to stop the collecting tears from trailing down the apples of your cheeks. You hate Sunghoon, you despise him so much you wish you could punch him and his god awful handsome face a couple times. Why, you wonder, why did he have to be such a good boyfriend? Maybe if he wasn’t you’d be content with a boy who wasn’t experienced in kissing, maybe you’d be fine with a boy who asks you how your day went just for the sake of asking.

And it doesn’t help that you’ve grown the exact same habit as him, that you had to restrain yourself from telling every single boy you sit across the table from small details about you like you used to tell Sunghoon.

Hands moving to furiously wipe the tears streaming down your face, you open your eyes to see Karina, who looks at you with sympathy. It’s become too common of an occurrence, and she hates that she can’t do anything about it other than offer you comfort.

“He was a good boyfriend, but there are better out there,” she says this time round, moving over to lay beside you. There are better boys out there, everyone is better than a boy who broke your heart. But he’s the one you want. Park Sunghoon.

No words are exchanged but a tight hug before you shuffle back to your bed. Your nighttime routine begins as your head hits the pillow and you start thinking about Sunghoon. You always think about Sunghoon before you fall asleep, you did since the very first time you met him, and you do now. The words he said, the way he looked. The inside jokes you had, the silent moments you shared. And if you ever dream, you dream about him. Because it’s Sunghoon, and everything in your life seemed to revolve around him.

It’s strange, how the moments the both of you shared felt like forever. Until suddenly you’re nineteen, and he’s halfway across the world. The earth becomes an hourglass, and you’re watching the sand pile up at the wrong end. And you’re thinking about how when you first met him, when you dated him, and when you were just beside him. Then your heart was like a kick drum at a rock show. But now, it is merely a ticking bomb of pain and anguish.

The arrogance and beautiful glory that shined with him — and you can still never forget the time it blinded you. How you were supposed to be the main character yet all you could focus on was the godly playboy who stole your firsts.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” Sunghoon mumbled, and he was so close you could feel his breath on your lips.

He held your gaze confidently, with a tinge of arrogance as his tongue darted out to lick his lip. You remember thinking that Sunghoon was the most annoying person in the world, because how could he have looked so devilishly handsome and have such an intoxicating effect on you.

It all started when he showed up unannounced and uninvited to your birthday party — still in his school uniform, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up with his blazer hanging over his shoulder.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

Sunghoon loved the way his nickname rolled off the tip of your tongue, so addictive that he wanted to record it — to play it again and again, even if your tone was one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignored your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You rolled your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hated Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he had on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moved swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulled you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world did Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thought you looked absolutely adorable as you pouted at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hadn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he saw you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asked, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally followed you around school whenever he saw you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“We’ll be one by tomorrow,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, followed you around, talked about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groaned, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He placed a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouted, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huffed, “I'm leaving,” you announced as you turned away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasped his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bent down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirked, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — to just move in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spat the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knew you guys weren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he had to hear it again.

It took you a while to process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you said his name that really did it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled when he broke the kiss, slightly out of breath as you looked up with hazy eyes.

He chuckled, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “Are you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders downturn almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifted his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they landed themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he placed chaste kisses on your lips again and again.

What a joke. What a liar, you think as you feel the cords of your heart tug at the memory. He haunts you and you wish you were here with him in his arms, fresh perfumed scent from Tamburins that he always used wafting into your senses, intoxicating you, consuming you.

Sticky cheeks and bloodshot eyes adorn your face as Karina shakes you incessantly, bringing you back to reality. “What,” you groan. You weren’t in the mood for whatever gossip she had to tell you — Sunghoon consumed your mind in ways that made it ache; you barely have space for any other thoughts.

She thrusts the phone into your face, the blaring screen making you squint as you recognise the familiar school news forum website. The big bold title of the post names ‘guys help me find this guy i saw on campus in omfg’ along with a picture attached.

You’re left speechless as a wave of emotions hits you and you feel like you’re drowning. This is not a dream, it’s real. And you don’t know if this was the universe’s way of pushing you to get over him or if you’d just managed to anger the world with your incessant wailing about the boy.

Because Park Sunghoon is back and he’s looking ten times hotter than you’d remembered.

Sunghoon sits with his long legs comfortably spread open and arms resting on the cushions of the couch, as if he was the owner of the house.

“So,” the girl straddled on his lap says, twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at him, “what’s your favourite fruit then?”

They’ve been at it for minutes that felt like hours and Sunghoon doesn’t think he can withstand the urge to push her off his lap for any longer. Sunghoon grins cockily, “wanna know, babe?”

He watches with dark eyes as the girl, who’s name he can’t seem to remember, nods bashfully. It’s the fifth girl in three days, and Sunghoon’s getting a little tired of the same old expressions to his flirty behaviour.

“Strawberries,” Sunghoon tells her, “I could live on strawberries my whole life.”

“You like them that much, huh?” He almost visibly cringes at the sultry tone of her voice. That’s too much. But he doesn’t say anything, nodding his head at her words. “Why?”

He freezes up for a while. Why? Well, Sunghoon has never had a care for strawberries, but that summer, your lips were so stained with strawberries it was all he could ever taste.

And he remembers how your hands traced the veins of his neck, limbs tangled with his as he kissed your strawberry lips goodnight and good morning.

“Tastes nice,” he shrugs, and the girl moves on to her next question. Sunghoon, however, tunes her out like he had wanted to since she pounced over onto his lap.

He almost curses the girl for asking him such a harmless question, cursing himself for answering it the way he did. Sunghoon doesn’t have a favourite fruit, so why did his thoughts have to travel there, to the back of his mind, where he kept all his memories with you untouched.

Ironically, Park Sunghoon is here to see you. Despite having a girl planted on his lap, he finds his eyes constantly wandering every time people enter the house — it’s an unfamiliar game of waiting, one that Sunghoon’s never played before.

Hell, Sunghoon doesn’t even know if you’re going to come, but he’s bagging on it because he knows your parents wouldn’t let you skip the chance to network with your schoolmates. And now that he’s back as your schoolmate, Sunghoon swears that he wouldn’t miss the chance to ‘network’ with you.

Speaking of the devil, you walk through the door, and Sunghoon is in awe. Pretty little black dress with black heels, and god you still looked the same, maybe even prettier — yeah, definitely more prettier.

And his heart is thumping against his rib cage, nostalgia flushing through him as Sunghoon remembers the very first time he saw you in class after he came late. One look at you and he thinks all his efforts are in vain, Sunghoon wants to touch you, call you pet names and see your cheeks flush his favourite shade of rosy red, but the weight on top of his lap stops him, and he can only watch as you walk into the kitchen without a glance towards the couch.

Then he hears your voice, it's loud and smooth like it was back then, and he remembers because every single time he hears the nickname ‘Hoon’, he hears your voice. And Sunghoon will never forget the sound of your voice calling his name over and over.

“Soobin,” you call out, “Choi Soobin,” and his shoulders drop. Soobin? Out of everyone you could move on with, you got together with him? He’s better, Sunghoon knows he is, and he can’t believe the fact that you would downgrade to a second class nerd.

Sunghoon shifts in his seat, the poor girl on his lap thrown to the side as he attempts to get a view of the open kitchen where you stood alluringly. He disregards the scoff thrown at him from the girl, who walks away with hips swinging.

God it’s that effect again, and without even a look you have him wrapped around your finger unknowingly. Sunghoon suddenly feels the need to kiss you again, and he realises how much he misses you.

How selfish of him though, to crave for you as though you were his to miss at all.

Sunghoon clears his throat, arms folded and muscles bulging, trying to be discreet about the toll you take on his mentality. He’s here and you’re just a walk away — yet why does he feel so undeserving of being next to you.

The past was just a misunderstanding, and he wouldn’t have been at fault if he didn’t just hop on a plane to the other side of the world just as you were ready to talk it out.

But there you are now and he feels as if it’s his final opportunity before you slip through his fingers. Sunghoon wants to call your name, blurt out his feelings and kiss himself better; hell he’d never admit it over his pride but he had been thinking of what to say to you when he would finally see you again.

The lump in his throat’s the size of a cherry pit as he shifts awkwardly, finding himself on the way to the kitchen, on the way to you.

And he hates it — how fidgety you make him feel, how his palms turn sweaty like a teenage boy, how out of character you make him feel.

You’re just another girl now, an ex, a stranger. Sunghoon knows he’s just lying to himself, because you’d never be a stranger to him, not when you’re in everything he sees and does, not when he’s never had the confidence to tell his parents who constantly ask about you that you’re no longer together.

Filtering through the crowded room, he prepares himself, rehearsing the words he’s always wanted to tell you. Yet a flame in his heart burned luminously green at the sight of you laughing, with a boy that wasn’t him, with Choi Soobin.

“New boyfriend already? I see the princess has downgraded from a prince to a knight,” Sunghoon looms over you, a look of distaste all over his face as he looks pointedly over at the other tall boy.

You knew he was here watching, you could feel the gaze of Park Sunghoon from a mile away. And now he’s right behind you, chest pressed against your back as Soobin looks away from you to meet his gaze.

“Sunghoon?” Soobin murmurs in confusion, and Sunghoon smirks, waving him off as a gesture to leave the both of you alone.

That was one thing you’d always hated about Sunghoon, how he used his influence to control everyone around you, as if they were unworthy of your attention.

“Stay Soobin,” you say, before you turn around to meet Sunghoon’s gaze for the first time in a long while. Your heart slams against your chests like fists on a punching bag and feelings overwhelm you. You wouldn’t label yourself as someone emotional yet whenever you’re around Sunghoon you can’t help but drown in your feelings — love, hate, anger, and longing.

Sunghoon shoots you a sharp glare before returning his gaze to Soobin and cocking his head to the side. “I think I should leave,” he mumbles, tripping over his words before he steps out of the kitchen.

And there you find yourself, face excruciatingly close to Park Sunghoon’s as you try to choke down your feelings. He looked a little different, less playful and more mature, yet he still has the same sharp features you loved, and the multiple moles peppered across his face that you used to kiss every night.

“Is this fun for you, Sunghoon?” And he winces at your tone, loaded with disappointment and frustration but he remains quiet, reaching over to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into it, his warmth and familiarity. “Hm?” Sunghoon hums, his voice deeper than it was back then, “I don’t know, is this fun for you, princess?”

You’re taken back to highschool, when Sunghoon would press you up against the cool metal lockers and tell you how pretty you are, like a princess hence the nickname he has for you. Then, you couldn’t control the vibrant red that ruled over your cheeks and ears at the sound of that nickname and now, you still can’t seem to.

“You can’t just barge in here and act like you know me, Park Sunghoon,” you seethed, “like nothing ever happened.”

“I don’t know, princess, maybe you can refresh my memory,” he grins at the way your eyebrows squeeze in irritation, “a kiss for old times sake?”

You place your palms on his chest, using force to push him away yet he doesn’t budge. “Hey sweetheart, I know you’re excited to see me but it’s a little early to be feeling me up don’t you think?”

Immediately retracting your hands, Sunghoon lets out a laugh. It’s just as melodious as you remember and you can’t help but sigh at the familiar feeling of bickering with him. “Get the fuck off me, Park Sunghoon,” you groan.

“Woah, full government name? Baby I thought we were in love.” God, you think, how you wished you could kiss his face with an uppercut. It didn’t help that he was exactly the same as he was before and everything more, because you can feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into him, more than before.

And you hated how he looked so good, like he never ghosted you and gave up on your relationship, like he wasn’t crying constantly over the memories you shared together.

“Why are you back Sunghoon,” you sigh, at least you were prepared — having cried your heart out, panicking over what to do when you’d finally see him with Karina. “Why are you here disturbing me, why can’t you just go find another girl to bother?”

It hurt you to say this, yet the clear image of Sunghoon with other girls was painted clearly in your mind. He was a player, and you felt hopeless trying to change him.

“It’s always been you, love.” He bends closer towards you holding your gaze, “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I wake up in the middle of the night calling out your name.”

“Will you please stop joking around,” you scoff at his unbelievable attempt at wooing you yet your heart pounds against the blooming flowers of your rib cage.

“Who says I’m not being serious,” he says, “besides it’s hard to find another girl to bother when you’re all everyone around me talks about.”

Your heart stops and your stomach dips as though you’ve just tumbled from a great height. It’s the closeness between the both of you that makes your knees weak, and his skin brushing against yours that jolts you like a spray of hot sparks. It’s how he knows exactly what gets to you, even if you’d never meant for him to.

His words pierce your heart, half agony half hope. And maybe if you loved him less you’d be able to bite back.

“We are long over and you know that,” you answer, so softly yet the pain drums against your whole being, “you made sure of that when you left without a word.”

Sunghoon feels constricted, and his shoulders feel the heavy weight of his guilt as he breathes. And since a few months ago, he’s always thought that the wound from your relationship had festered yet here, right in front of you, it still bleeds fresh.

“We never officially broke up,” Sunghoon points out. And he feels like such a desperate douchebag hanging onto the thinnest thread that could snap at any given second.

You scoff as you feel annoyance rise up in you, “you’d think that leaving your girlfriend to live across the world at the lowest point of your relationship literally shouts break up in every single angle.”

Sunghoon, for once, doesn’t have a cocky comeback to your words as they fizzle down his throat in silence. He opens his mouth yet bites back his tongue, guilt ridden.

You look at him, begging for an explanation that never seemed to come, “forget it, I’m an idiot for thinking that you’d ever waste your breath explaining yourse-”

“I get it, you hate me,” he groans, cutting you off as you fidget awkwardly at his words. No one could ever hate Park Sunghoon, even you — especially you. He sucks in a breath, ready to embarrass himself, bracing himself for rejection.

He can’t let you go like this, not when your heart blackens at the sight of him, not when he’s still madly in love with you.

So he does what he does best, he plays. And this time, it’s a game that he needs to win.

Park Sunghoon has a way with words, or maybe that’s just his charm — where every sentence and every word entrances, putting you in a state where you can’t seem to do anything but oblige to his commands.

You stand in one of your favourite dresses at the entrance of the restaurant, Sunghoon beside you as you try your best not to take a peek at him for the nth time.

You’re not here for him, you’re here for his mother.

At least that’s what you’ve been trying to tell yourself.

And you’ve been dreading it all, the feeling of familiarity — remembering how much you’d loved his parents, how well they treated you, and how you’d always meet up with them with Sunghoon.

Yet here you were again, a year later, trying to convince yourself that this was the closure that you needed to move on. It’s just an hour or two.

“Oh my gosh Sunghoon, you brought her,” a flowery voice cheered as you watched Mrs Park push back her chair to throw her arms around you, “I’ve been asking Sunghoon to set up a date for us to meet for the past year but he always claims you’re busy with Uni. How are you doing?”

You wrap your arms around her, a real smile blooming on your face, “I’ve been coping well, it’s much busier than I could’ve ever imagined. But I’ve never been better.”

Lie, lie, lie. It seemed like that was all you could do around things that surround your ex boyfriend; lying about your feelings, lying to his mother, lying to yourself.

“I can imagine,” she smiles, gesturing to the both of you to sit, “now that Hoon is back, I’m sure he’d look after you well.”

“Not even a hello to your own son and you’re already putting words in my mouth,” Sunghoon complains, rolling his eyes at his mother’s usual antics.

And at times like this he remembers how you’d squeeze his hands, as if warning him to listen to his mother, yet right now his hands lack the warmth yours radiate and he only has himself to blame.

After all he was the one asking you to join him, and he couldn’t have expected you to actually act like you used to. You weren’t his to touch anymore.

“It’s great that you’re back next to him,” Mrs Park comments, completely ignoring her son. “You’re the only one he listens to. He’s changed a lot since he met you.”

You let out a forced laugh, one that goes unnoticed by Mrs Park but not Sunghoon. And he questions if you actually believe his mother’s words.

Sunghoon used to think it was foolish to believe that people could truly change for the better — life was made to be a cycle, and no matter how long summer radiated, winter would still send a chill down your spine. Yet with you his world felt like constant summers in paradise, peace and comfort he hasn’t been able to find anywhere but in your arms that wrapped around his flaws and never let go.

“Barely any parties overseas, always studying,” she points out and you’re shocked at the new revelation you’d just made, “but he’s started smoking, maybe now that you’re back by his side you can fix that up.”

Sunghoon groans, “whatever.” His fingers run through his hair as you finally cave in, taking a glance at him. His sculpted features that followed you to your dreams, the rustic looking leather jacket that hugged his figure perfectly and just everything; from the way he breathes to the way he speaks. He’s everything.

Time ticks away as you find it harder and harder not to hold Sunghoon’s hand like you used to, holding yourself back from purposefully hitting his leg with yours under the table cloth just for the fun of it. And it wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying yourself — it was just how minutes felt like days being so close yet not being able to touch him.

The cold breeze of the night bites your cheeks, turning them a frosty red. You shiver as you blow hot breaths on the palms of your hand, rubbing them to keep warm only to find the weight of a jacket draped over your shoulder.

“I don’t need it,” you say to Sunghoon, without having any intention to give his jacket back, “I’m not that cold.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from a mile away, princess,” he says, lips twitching.

“Sure,” you comment, “and when you’re cold later on don’t ask for the jacket back.”

Sunghoon lets out a laugh, it’s animated and excited as his head rolls back and his mouth widens. “Don’t worry about me, love, I’ve got it covered.”

Reaching into his pocket, Sunghoon pulls out a box of cigarettes, smoothly lighting one up before he breathes out a cloud of grey smoke. And you can’t help but look.

You hold your breath at the sight — his dark eyes alight under the moonlight and his jaw tilted a few angles up, hair messy from the night’s breeze, and finger clad rings that hold such death.

It makes you scared: scared of the love you have for him. Because it has ruined you once and it will ruin you again, you’d let it ruin you again.

“You shouldn’t smoke, you know,” you start, “it’s bad for your health.”

“You’re bad for my health, sweetheart,” he answers, “yet you seem to be everywhere I am.”

The silence of night engulfs the both of you, and the chatter from the restaurant tunes out as you meet his gaze.

It’s insane, you’re going insane. “You know you can’t just do that,” you say, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Can’t just do what, love?” He hums, smoke wafting around him. And it really should have disgusted you, the way he chose to blacken his own lungs yet it didn’t. It could never.

“That,” you point out, tearing your gaze away from him. “You can’t just return out of nowhere and pretend like everything is fine. Calling me pet names, making me meet your mother because you failed to tell her about our breakup. You can’t just rope me back in after I’ve spent all my time and energy grappling out of the hold you have over me.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to blink them away. Your vulnerability on full display for Sunghoon to read — not that he ever needed you to tell him, he could read you like an open book.

“Stop playing with me Sunghoon. I’m not just a toy you can throw around and find when you’re bored.”

Only the soft cackle at the end of Sunghoon’s cigar can be heard as he stills. And he wants to tell you that he loves you, he wants to scream it to the world. You were never a toy to him and he has always been fully devoted to you, like a religion of his.

Sunghoon doesn’t know how to say it, he can’t really put it into words: the feeling he has when he’s around you. He’s addicted to it — the feeling of being alive, like he’s known you for lifetimes after lifetimes, like he’s free.

His proclamation gets stuck in his throat as he fumbles on a thorough response. It’s always been hard for him to show his true feelings, much more to actually say it out loud.

He’s never really been an emotional person, much less a confrontational one. It was why he liked playing around; baseless actions without reason, there wasn’t any need to show his true feelings or even feel much to begin with. He never had to explain himself, not once.

And at times like this when Sunghoon’s utterly scared, he can’t do anything but accept; that maybe you and him were just meant to be a precious memory.

Maybe it was time to let you move on.

Friends with deep history. That’s what Karina decides to title your relationship with Sunghoon. And you’d never thought it’d hurt this much, given you and Sunghoon were never once considered friends.

It’s a whole different type of pain and worry that gnaws at your heart — like an emerald monster of envy as you watch him interact with other girls in ways he once did with you, to hear him call others by pet names like he used to call you.

Sunghoon lets the word ‘babe’ roll off his tongue without a second thought, it’s the only pet name he could ever bear saying without much thought of you.

‘Babe’ was conventional, normal. It was everything you were not.

And he wonders if you realise it, if you pay attention to his every word like he does to yours, if you’d really moved on and accepted the fact that the two of you were friends.

It’s weird, Park Sunghoon has never hated any word more. The sour aftertaste it left on his tongue and the tension surrounding it. Fuck friends, he thinks, it’s only been a week of such an arrangement and he can’t take it any longer.

There’s only been two types of days throughout the week — ones where you’re beside him and he can smell the familiar scent of vanilla and honey and others, where seconds felt like months and minutes felt like years.

This isn’t what he came back for. He didn’t come back just to torture himself with close proximity, he came back to touch you, kiss you, to feel your breath on his lips, to feel your heart beat against his.

It’s been a week since Sunghoon swore to himself that he’d let you move on, give you space, and finally let you go from his grasp. Yet whenever he spots you with another boy that wasn’t him, his being burns.

His heart scalds as if it’s drowning in fiery hot lava. And Sunghoon doesn’t sob or wail, his grief horribly discreet, persistent, and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound. It feels unspeakably lonely, draining and his mind’s a blank state. A sickening wet feeling.

How the memories haunt him everywhere he finds himself to be; your favourite cafe, a poster of the movie you’d made him watch multiple times he could recite half the movie script, the bitter coffee he forces down his throat just to torture himself.

“Because it’s kinda cool,” he remembers telling you, “stuff like coffee runs, or caffeine adrenaline that runs through my veins after the bitter taste coats my tongue.”

The heavenly laugh that you let out, the one that makes him want to keep on loving you. “Caffeine adrenaline, really Hoon?” You said with a grin on your face, “I don’t think there’s such a thing.”

“Yeah there is,” he insists, mirroring the goofy grin plastered on your lips, “and it makes me want to kiss you.”

Now all time does is pass and he finds himself in front of your favourite cafe, wondering if you still order your favourite chocolate pastry and get it all over your lips; if there’s someone else who kisses the stains of chocolate away like he did once.

And he shouldn’t have been surprised to see you there, in your glory, a plate of your favourite chocolate pastry in front of you half eaten.

At least some things don’t change.

He watches you intently, as you take another bite of the chocolaty goodness, nodding inattentively at the words spouted from your company’s mouth.

Sunghoon thinks the boy in front of you is doing it all wrong. If he was in front of you now he would’ve teased you for being a messy eater, bent over the table just to kiss the chocolate away from your lips as you tell him to stop while laughing.

You find your attention dwindling from the boy in front of you. He was good looking, for sure, defined features and a nice smile. But Sunghoon’s more handsome, Sunghoon looks good with and without glasses but the boy in front of you would never be able to pull glasses off.

If Sunghoon was here, he’d have already made me laugh at least thrice, he’d have planted a kiss on my lips, calling me a messy eater, he’d have already changed the topic to keep to your interests.

You look away from the boy, scanning the interior of the familiar cafe, one that was supposed to be your favourite yet you’ve never really thought much about the interior or their food. Everything’s dull and you figure that maybe it’s the company you’re around that matters instead.

The cafe wasn’t your favourite, Sunghoon was. With his witty comebacks and chivalrous smirk, the tall figure and eyes you could stare at for days.

And then you see him, and he’s just there. You don’t know what to think anymore. Just that you’re here and he’s here. That you’re supposed to hate him for leaving yet you can’t find a tinge of hate in your heart. That moving on was clearly for the better but everything’s mundane without him.

Sunghoon’s already looking at you, and when you meet his gaze he lets out a string of curses under his breath. This wasn’t a good idea. You and him in a place scattered everywhere in your memories, just a few steps away yet miles apart at the same time.

He can’t take it any longer. So Sunghoon leaves, fingers clenching the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

You frown at the sight of his back, turning as he left the cafe without a second thought. A sense of déjà vu encompasses you. Is this how it’s always going to be — turning away from each other without a smile, seeing him everywhere yet not being able to talk to him, holding the label of friends but never having a proper conversation?

“Hey, you okay love?” You grimace at the name he calls you, looking back at the boy who did nothing but blabber away all this while.

“Uhm, I think I have to go,” you say, chair pushed back hurriedly as you make your way out without a second thought. Head turning to find a boy in a denim jacket, the boy that held your heart in his hands.

“Sunghoon,” you call once you spot him, puffs of smoke wafting over and around him as he leans gorgeously against a wall. “Is this really how it’s going to be?”

Sunghoon lifts the cigarette between his fingers, cold eyes that once held no emotion seemingly brightening at the sight of you. “What are you doing here princess?” He asks, small puffs of smoke exiting his mouth as he talks, “boy not to your liking? He seemed bland.”

“Why are you doing this Sunghoon,” you say exasperatedly, “why are you everywhere that I am, why do you follow me in everything that I do.”

“Am I distracting you from your dates, love?” Sunghoon laughs, and you’re annoyed at how he dodges your questions perfectly, how he manages to twist everything yet hit the nail on the head.

“You promised me that you’d let me move on,” you pause, catching your breath, “you owe me that. You owe me space.”

“You think it’s that easy to give you up?” Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow as the cigarette in his finger dims and drops to the ground, “I wasn’t lying when I said that you’re all around me. I can’t even-”

“Then why,” you cut him off, vision already blurry, “why did you leave without a word, why did you leave just when I was ready to talk, why didn’t you answer the thousand messages I left you, why did I have to find out you were gone from someone that wasn’t you. Why?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Sunghoon says shakily.

“You didn’t have a choice?” You scoffed, “I cry myself to sleep wondering who you were talking to instead of me, wondering why you did me so wrong and everything that was wrong with me. I checked my phone, Sunghoon, every fucking ten minutes hoping to see your name on the screen and if it wasn’t I would cry again and again. You always come and go as you please, whatever is convenient for you. I bet you’ve never once thought of my feelings, yet all I could think about was if you were coping well on the other side of the world.”

Sunghoon stands and he marvels, your words striking him like a final knockout blow. And its realisation all over again that he loved you, he loves you, and you still loved him.

He’s always thought you’d hate him for what he’s done, the suffering he’s brought into your life. Being serious never yielded him much results so he kept pretending, passing it over.

“And you think I didn’t,” he wails, and it’s the first time you’ve seen perfection with flaws, “you think I didn’t look at your texts and cry? You think I’ve never had any sleepless nights thinking if texting you back would be the right choice? I thought it would’ve been the best for you, I wouldn’t have been able to treat you the way you would’ve wanted to be treated and I didn’t know how long my father would’ve made me stay there if I didn’t beg to come back.”

“But now that you’re here in front of me, I’ve realised how stupid I must have been to make such a decision. I missed you and I still miss you even when you’re here — and it occurs to me that I’ll probably never move on from you because you’re the first person I’ve ever truly loved unconditionally, the only one that’s ever mattered.”

A strangled sob of tears leaves your throat as you bury your face in his chest, trembling wildly as tears travel down your cheeks. “I hate you,” you croak out, fists clenched, “I hate that I miss you.”

“I missed you everywhere.” He says, fingers running through your hair to your back. And for the first time, Sunghoon lets the pain and ache bleed into his voice.

“Here,” he says and his lips brush against the place your heart beats, “and I’ve missed you here.”

Once Sunghoon kisses you, your heart slows and everything seems so dreamy. How much you needed him terrified you, and you couldn’t imagine that this was what love was like for everyone. Maybe it was just you, just you and Sunghoon. Maybe together you were just a volatile entity that would either implode or melt together, thrilling and exotic, sweet and heavenly.

It’s silent for a minute and you miss his voice again.

After a period of sadness, happiness doesn’t just jump in your life. It grows slowly into the cracks and fissures of you, like small plants that sprout in cracked concrete.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” Sunghoon mutters into your mouth as his arms wrap around your waist. Your arms around his neck as he hoists you up in the waters of his swimming pool.

It’s weird, how it feels like he’s never left. And ever since you’d cried your hearts out in each other's arms, you’ve both been making an effort to communicate with each other.

“You just kissed me, Hoon,” you laugh, water droplets harmonising with the sound of your laughter. And Sunghoon just stares like he did last night and the night before. He isn’t obsessed, yet when your fingers run through his hair he can’t help but think he is.

“I know, but I want to,” he grins, “I want to kiss you again.”

“You don’t have to ask,” you say in slow tenderness. His star mapped skin, cacophony of laughter, and his smile that makes you feel a little less alone — it makes you feel like the sun’s out in the middle of the midnight sky.

“Consent is what hot guys do,” he smirks, and you almost fall back in laughter.

“Really?” You reply, “I don’t see any hot guys around here?”

Sunghoon groans, “I’m right here? You’re saying that as if you don’t want a piece of me.”

You don’t think twice before leaning into Sunghoon, thoughtlessly holding him as you fall in love all over again with all your heart.

“You know who I want a piece of,” you sigh, head buried in the crook of his neck. “This new hot guy in school, everyone’s been raving about him for the past month. Bet he kisses well.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon gasps, “what is his name?” You roll your eyes at his facade of obliviousness.

“I think it’s Park Sunghoon,” your lips raise as you turn to look at him.

“That’s me baby,” he chuckles, “too bad I already have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you frown.

“Yeah, too bad I’m all hers,” he mirrors your frown, “now can my girlfriend allow me to kiss her?”

You giggle, nodding your head before Sunghoon presses his lips on yours. And it’s everything and nothing at once — heartbeats merging as one, heaven’s on your lips and Sunghoon feels the need to repeatedly repent his sins. He wants to touch you until his palms burn.

And unlike the rollercoaster of emotions his heart once felt, it feels calm, it feels as though he’s finally returned home.

© SJYUNS

[norrisleclercf1]

Tennessee Whiskey

Pairing: Country Singer!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: PG-17

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: None really, just language, the dickhead known as Rhett

Requested: Yes/No

Songs: Save a Horse, Ride a cowboy by Big & Rich, Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts, She's Country by Jason Aldean, What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts, All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood, Jolene by Dolly Parton, Bless these Broken Roads by Rascal Flatts, Fancy by Reba McEntire, What Ifs by Kane Brown

Synopsis: You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

Some country songs just write themselves

A/N: I want to thank @monzamash for giving me the idea of how they met but also @vintaqestar for fueling this even more. And also Chris Stapleton for me listening to song and giving me the inpsiration. @bibissparkles

"Welcome to Nashville," Lando smiles brightly at the older gentleman holding his hand. 

Nashville, Tennessee. That's where Lando was currently, here for a Jack Daniel's event. He's never been to Nashville, but he is standing in the back room of a cramped yet packed bar. Jack was releasing a new bottle, a special one with McLaren on it. Fans and nonfans alike were here for the event. 

He was also told that some country singers would be there. The base was thumping, and the thick smell of smoke and alcohol had his throat tightening. Oscar was leaning against a wall, probably not wise as Lando had touched it, and it was sticky. Yet, Oscar looked the most relaxed Lando had ever seen. 

"You bunch sure know how to throw a party," Oscar voices, a little louder than usual. But with the southern drawl of some singer, a song about a tractor that is somehow sexy. "How is a tractor sexy?" Lando whispers, lips right against Oscar's ear. The Aussie turns and shrugs his shoulder. "I don't think they care, look." Oscar points to the crowd. 

Oscar was right; Lando was watching people sing and do some type of synchronized dancing. "What are they doing?" The older gentleman, whose name Lando couldn't remember, something like Dan, laughed loudly. "It's called line dancing." Oscar and Lando share a look and just shrug their shoulders. "When do we go out?" Oscar asks, but Dan waves his hand. 

"Ah hell, you ain't gonna go on stage, boys; you're behind the bar. We don't showboat out here. Unless you're like them," Dan, maybe Cash, points, and Lando looks over. He sucks in a breath seeing a woman holding a torched guitar. It was gorgeous, with dark wood, but through the low lights, it looked like fire was taken to give it this smokey look. "That's The Cadillac's. A new band, but damn, they think they're going to clean house at the CMA's." Dan yells, tipping his hat. 

Lando stopped listening, though, unable to take his eyes off the woman with the guitar. With their hair pulled back and a black cowboy hat placed on their head. Oscar looks over at what has Lando's attention and chuckles. "Hey, who is that?" Oscar asks, pointing to who Lando is staring at. "Eh, oh, that's Y/n L/n, the lead singer. Sweet, sweet girl. Born and raised here in the south, want me to introduce you two?" "Yes," "No," Oscar and Lando answer simultaneously. 

"Excuse Lando, he gets nervous meeting new people. We'd love to meet them." Oscar chuckles, and Dan smiles and pulls the two drivers over. 

"Honestly, what even is a McLaren?" Your drummer, Cassie asks, fixing her belt buckle. She earned something from Barrel Racin and would cut anyone for touching it. "I think it's a type of car, Y/N?" You whip your head up at your bassist Judd asks, poking you. "What? Yeah, it's a car, but this is for Formula 1. I said yes to this cause it's Jackie's bar. We started here, guys; just be polite." You urge knowing that Cassie and Judd tended to get in some trouble. 

"We'll be on our best behavior, ma'am." Judd tips his hat, and you just roll your eyes. "Kids!" You three turn, seeing Jackie barreling towards you with two young men dressed in Vols orange. "Y/n, this is Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri; they're the drivers for this fancy party." Jackie laughs and pats the one named Lando on the back. "Nice to meet ya'll," You stick out your hand. 

Lando mumbles back a hello but doesn't shake your hand. "Oscar," You turn, and what you assume is the oldest of the two shakes your hand. "Y/n, nice to meet ya." Oscar smiles, but you turn back to Lando and give him a small smile. "Well, um, catch ya later." You clear your throat, and Lando looks up and nods. 

"Yeah, gotta a crowd to sing to," Judd places his arm over your shoulders, and you can tell he is staring down at Lando. "And I gotta get these boys behind the bar," You wave off Jackie, smile at Lando, and nod your head at Oscar as you three take the stage. 

Lando jumps a little at the roar that builds into the building, even on the street. This place was shaking alone with just the cheer of the crowd. "Here, and don't worry about making difficult orders, just the ones with the new whiskey. You two should be fine." Dan says, or Jackie, actually. "Thanks!" Oscar laughs as Lando can't pull his eyes off the stage. 

"Hello, Nashville. Now, let's give a big warm welcome to our other half from across the pond. McLaren Formula 1 Team!" You scream; a bright light lands on Lando as people cheer, and Oscar has to nudge him to wave. "Alright, we're all here to drink but also dance, so let me introduce myself to you, lovely people. I'm Y/n, and we're The Cadillacs. We're gonna start off with a good one. So sing if you know it, dance, who cares." You laugh. 

"I've known you since Brad and Angelina

We go back like Pontiac seats

If I got an aisle with a mess I gotta clean up

I know you'll be showin' up with bleach, hmm." 

Lando smiles, hearing the opening lyrics, and people quickly move, grabbing someone to dance with as the sound of the violin and guitar complement one another. 

All those names that we don't ever speak of

Got a couple nights that have slipped my mind

Proof and photographs have been deleted

If you ever needed an alibi

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

"Hey, can I get a whiskey sour?" Someone yells, and Lando snaps his head away from you and to the woman before him, and he nods. Lando hums along, even going as far as to tap his foot to the beat. 

It's a good thing we're each other's kinda crazy

Ain't no judgment or keepin' score

If you rob a bank, I'm your getaway Mercedes

God knows that's what friends are for

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too, yeah

"They're pretty good. The crowd loves them!" Oscar yells, handing off 3 beers, and the cowboys yell and head off, the crowd growing more with each passing minute. Like the music was drawing them in more than them. Which was probably true. 

I keep all your secrets by the dozen

You know where my skeletons sleep

Hypothetically, if you ever kill your husband

Hand on the Bible, I'd be lyin' through my teeth

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

Our bodies are buried, and they're in the same ditch

So even if I wanted to, I can't snitch

30 to life would go quicker with you, yeah

Smiling at the crowd, you can't help but pull your attention to the bar, seeing Lando bop his head and smile brightly. You feel this lightness in your chest when you see his smile; he is adorable. But he was also gorgeous in this unique way; you could stare at him for hours. Unsure why, you're glad he was enjoying your song, which was currently snug at number 1 in the charts. 

So, if you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too

You finish off the ending and sigh as the crowd roars, and you scan it and see Lando smiling and clapping loudly. You blush and look back at the crowd and then at Judd and Cassie. "Hey? One of the oldies?" You ask, knowing the crowd would love it. "Fuck yeah!" Judd laughs, knowing the next song is about your ex. A nasty piece of work. 

"Alright, one more 'cause we've got some great talent here. Now, how about a song warning men what happens when you cheat on a good ole southern girl?" You laugh seeing men groan, but the woman jumping up and down. This was the song that catapulted your career. 

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp

And she's probably gettin' frisky

Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick

Showin' her how to shoot a combo

And he doesn't know

Lando's eyes snap up at you on the stage, hearing the dark rumble change in how you started to change and how you give yourself a deep southern drawl. Lando laughs as he watches you lean into the song, singing your heart out as you hit each note with emotions. Lando shudders, hating to be the guy this song was written about. 

He doesn't know how it happened, but Lando ends up singing along with the crowd and starts to jump when Cassie hits the drums and joins in on the chorus. "Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats!" Lando yells and watches the stage go dark. "Damn, the group got a new fan?" Lando blushes when Oscar nudges him, but he just looks away. Something about you was pulling him in. 

"I sure hope so!" Lando jumps, hearing your accent right there. Damn, you looked good. Lando melted slightly with a light shine to your skin, hair a little messy, and cheeks wide from your smile. "Want some water?" Lando freezes, hating that's what he started with. You giggle and lean over the bar, not caring for the way your skin is sucked into it now. "How about a double shot of whiskey? Think ya could do that?" You ask, staring at Lando. 

"Yeah," He breathes, and you giggle, jumping back down as you watch him move behind the bar and fix the drink. "Hey, how old are you?" Oscar turns and gives a lopsided grin. "I'm 22, Lando is 24." Your eyes grow wide, hearing that Lando is the oldest among them. "Really? For sure, I thought it was you." You laugh, Lando blushing even harder. 

"Here," He slides the glass over, and you smile, taking a sip. "Damn, good whiskey." Lando chuckles and hands off some other drinks. "So, what is Formula 1?" Lando turns, and you swear you feel your chest flutter. He had gorgeous eyes that were the perfect blend of blue and green. "It's international racing," "So you travel the world? That's gotta be fun," You yell as people cheer for the next act. 

"I guess! It's tiring after a while, but we meet cool people." Lando leans onto the counter, giving you a little smirk. "Am I one of those cool people?" You flirt. Lando chuckles and looks away with a blush. "Yeah," He breathes. "Yeah, you are." Taking another sip of your whiskey, you put it down and lean in. "Good, 'cause I think you're pretty cool too." 

-------------------------------

"Damn, they sure know how to party." Oscar groans, rolling his neck as Lando helps you pack up. "It's the southern, just be happy football wasn't going on." Judd laughs, slapping the poor kid on the back. Oscar, much smaller than your bassist stumbles forward. "And we have to do this all over again Friday." Cassie sighs, pulling her jet black hair out of its braids. 

"Hey, if you're not doing anything, um, would you like to join us for the week?" You ask, fiddling with your fingers. Lando looks up, Oscar being pulled away by Judd and Cassie like he was a little boy. "Um, I'd have to check my schedule." He mumbles, wondering what exactly McLaren would have him do until Friday. 

"Oh, yeah, you're probably busy." You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Nope, he's not busy. As long as you have him back by Friday night, you can keep him." Lando jumps, seeing Jon there all of a sudden. "Where'd you come from?" Lando squeaks, feeling bashful as if a parent just caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. "The hotel and Miss. L/n, whatever you want to do with him, go crazy." Jon smiles and slaps his hands down on Lando's shoulders. 

"Well," Lando can see your confidence inflate again and smiles, feeling himself grow comfortable. "How about showing this Brit the southern life? We're going back to my ranch upstate; how about it?" You ask, leaning against a speaker. Lando thinks it over, though he wants to say yes immediately. "Yes, I'd love to." Your smile grows so that even your cheeks puff out. 

"Great, I might want to say your goodbyes now. There is no cell service in those parts. Real nice," Lando pulls out his phone and hands it to Jon. "No need for cell service when you've got no phone." Judd laughs and tips his hat. "I like you," Lando nods in agreement, and Jon makes a noise. "Just tell Zak, well, I don't know, but tell him I would get injured." "Yeah, we won't have a pretty boy here riding horses," Cassie calls, and Jon looks between you and Lando. 

"Alright, just be careful." Jon waves Oscar over, who gives Lando a thumbs up and out of the bar. Lando chuckles and turns, balking when Judd is staring at him. "You stick out like a sore thumb." Judd muses, ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Hey, Y/n, pretty boy here should change, don't you think? Or else those fans of him will totally notice him." You haul up your guitar and look him over. 

Black joggers, a bright neon papaya sweatshirt, and black sneakers. "Do you own jeans?" Lando nods, but Cassie snorts. "Not skinny jeans, like wranglers or something?" She walks around him, checking him out. "Um, no?" "Well, we hit Broadway and get him a new fit." Judd muses, and you blush; Lando would look good in a cowboy hat. 

"Come on," You finish loading everything up and watch the trunk pull off, leaving you four outside. Lando follows you, but you reach back and lace your fingers together. "Careful around here. Drunks and others won't hesitate to pickpocket ya. So, stay close." Lando doesn't even bother pulling his hand away, loving the weight of yours in his. "In here," Judd shoves you 3 into the door and laughs when you stumble into the store owner glaring but stop seeing who it is. 

"Judy boy!" "What up, old man? Think you can do a makeover here for our boy!" Judd points behind him, and the owner looks him over. "Of course, bring him here." Lando doesn't know what happened, only that he's shoved into a room and returned wearing a black t-shirt, cowboy-cut jeans, and perfectly fitted black cowboy boots. "Now, the hat." Judd muses, and you giggle, sitting on a stool. 

"Lookin good," Lando turns and stutters, seeing your hair free. Wow, he was awestruck by you, hat off, and he finally got an honest look at you. "Pretty," He whispers, and Cassie snorts but muffles it when Judd glares her. "Hey, Bud, add in some orange, will ya'? It's um, shit, forgot your name, pretty boy." Judd laughs, and Lando can't help but join in. "Lando," You and Lando say at the same time. 

You look away when Bud starts to make the hat, and Lando can't help but turn to you. "What got you into singing?" You look up and smile, and Lando knows that smile. It was the smile of someone who remembered their first time falling in love. "My daddy, he was a farmer. I'm the oldest, so he'd wake me up, and we'd check the fields together. Every morning before school, no matter the rain, sun, or cold, it didn't matter. It was hard work, but he'd have this little radio. He'd turn it on, and we'd sing together. Some of the best memories I have are with that old bugger." You smile, looking down. 

"Does he come to your shows?" You take a deep breath and clear your throat. "No, not anymore. He passed about 3 years ago." Lando curses himself, but he stops seeing your soft smile. "He's not in person, but I have him onstage with me for each show. The guitar I got?" Lando nods, knowing the one; it looked old but was a gorgeous piece. "He gave it to me, same as my hat." You jump off the stole and rock forward to lean on the counter. 

"Almost done there, Bud? We gotta long drive home," You yell, and Bud just curses you, but you giggle and bump your shoulders into Lando's. 

-----------------------------------------

"Wakey, wakey," Lando groans, feeling something wet touch his face, and he pats it away. "Lando, come on, you gotta wake up." "Mhn go away Osc," Lando hears Oscar tsk and kicks him, rolling off the bed with a screech. "What the hell, mate!" Instead of Oscar, all 6'4 of Judd stood a very shirtless Judd. "Breakfast will be gone soon; it's better to go eat. Then we can go," Judd leaves the room, and Lando turns, seeing the large Bluetick Coonhound named Rusty staring at him. 

"Don't drool on me, please," Rusty opens his mouth and barks loudly, with Lando chuckling, "Yeah, yeah, alright." Lando stands and moves, staring at the new clothes given to him. Sliding in jeans and a t-shirt, he threw on the baseball cap and walked out barefoot. "Good morning," you sing, and Lando sighs; he could get used to this. 

"Judd said we're going somewhere?" You turn and smile. "We're going fishing." Lando makes a disgusted face that has Cassie spitting out her coffee. "Oh shit, if he makes that face again, I'll piss myself.' Cassie cackles, which has Judd chuckling as well. "Scared of a little fishie?" "They're disgusting." You shake your head as Lando shivers. 

"Really? You at them just fine last night." Slapping your spatula down, you see Judd with a blank face. "Judd," You hiss, "Hey, don't pass out, pretty boy," You turn and gasp, seeing Lando whiter than white. "Lando, he's joking. We didn't fish last night. It's just a joke." You plead and help him sit down on a stool. "Promise? Promise that wasn't fish?" He asks, eyes wide, and you bite your bottom lip. "I promise that wasn't fish." You explain; great, now you'd have to lie about what Bass was for the rest of his life. 

"Shit," Judd chokes into his mug, and you glare at him. "Go take the dog out," You hiss and watch as Judd takes Rusty out. "Don't you have something to do as well? You've already eaten." You point to Cassie, who looks up and groans. "But, I want more." She whines, and you huff, "It's for Lando and me. Now go." Cassie huffs and shoves on her boots and stalks off outside into the cool air. 

"Was it really fish?" Lando asks, and you look down. The poor boy's lips were swollen from chewing on them, and his eyes were wide. "No, it wasn't fish. Judd was just fucking with you." You giggle, trying so hard to not laugh. "Good, 'cause last night was good, but if it was fish, ugh." Lando sticks out his tongue, and you turn back to ensure you didn't fire the bacon. 

"Okay, well, how about getting me the orange juice. Coffee?" You ask, pointing at the pot, and he shakes his head. "Don't drink it; I'll take the juice, though." He opens the fridge and grabs it, pouring two glasses. "I'm glad you know how to cook, I suck at it." You snort on a laugh and flip the bacon. "I'll teach you how to make eggs." Your grandma would always tell you someone needed to know how to cook at least one thing. "I'll burn the house down." But you roll your eyes. "I highly doubt that." 

"Now, grab me four eggs," You point to the cart. "Crack them open into that bowl and then scramble them." You instruct. Lando cracks them open but stops staring at them. "Do I shake them?" You laugh, plate the bacon, and turn the eye down. "No, take that fork and stir hard, but not too hard. You get them everywhere." You instruct and go to the oven and take out four fluffy biscuits. 

Lando nods and stirs the eggs, and you watch, ensuring he doesn't make a mess. "Perfect," You wipe your hands and turn the eye of the stove back on. "Now, come here." Lando walks over, and you giggle. "With the eggs, Lando." "Right, knew that," He mumbles and grabs the bowl, and you place him in front of the stove. "Next step, pour the eggs in. Some spray the pan, but I just finished cookin bacon, and the grease will add extra flavor." "Jesus, this one meal will fuck up my diet." "Stop," You pinch his side, and he yelps, but you both start laughing. 

"Okay, pour the eggs," Lando does as you say, and you grab a plastic spoon and hand it to him. "wait a minute. then take the spoon, pull the eggs off the ring of the pan, and start bunching them up, and then like you were stirring them, it'll break them up." You explain and watch as Lando does as you say. "Stop, that's perfect." You take the pan, add fresh eggs to the plate, and smile. "And there you go, you just made eggs." Lando smiles brightly and leans forward but stops and pulls back. 

Clearing his throat, he smiles and grabs your plates. "Where, too?" He asks, and you point outside, cursing yourself for thinking he would kiss you. You two just met; why would he do that. Pushing the screen door open and hearing the comforting snap of it, you groan. "Woooo, that was painful," You turn and see Judd leaning on the counter. 

"Fuck off, Judy," But it had no bite to it. "Hey, just sayin, but he was going to kiss you." Judd winks and walks off, heading somewhere deep into the cabin. Rolling your eyes, you grab your orange juice cups and see Lando sitting on the outside bar, watching the sunrise. "This is wish when I had my phone, to take pictures of this." You set the cups down, sliding into your own chair. "No, you don't. It's stuff like this you don't want your phone for. Just enjoy." You grumble and bite into your eggs, and Lando shrugs. 

-----------------------------------------

"I thought you meant fishing on a boat?" Lando groans, trudging through the woods. "Hell no, a bunch of tourists are here, and this is a secret little place Y/n and I found as kids. So be nice. We don't tell anyone about this place." Cassie yells back, and you giggle at Lando's long sigh. "Why'd you bring the guitar?" Lando asks you, seeing the soft cover hanging off your back. "Sometimes, being out here gives me good inspiration." Lando hums and sees Cassie and Judd stop. 

"Finally," "Nuhuh, pretty boy. You and Y/n are going further up." Judd boops Lando's nose, who whimpers and hangs his head. "Aren't you supposed to be an athlete? Where's that stamina?" Judd teases. "I'm not built to dig around the southern woods, much less in these temps." "Stop your complaining and go," Judd shoves Lando, and you two walk further from there. 

"They're fishing; we're just going to relax upriver. Or did you really think we'd make you fish?" Lando thinks it over and then sees you're not carrying fishing poles and that Cassie and Judd had most of them. "Oh, didn't even cross my mind, honestly." Smiling, you lead the way and stop seeing the clearing that has the river in front of it. "Hey, Whiskey, tell me we can stop now." Lando groans, and you turn, confused at who he is talking to. "What?" Lando looks up and stops. "Whiskey, it's your nickname. Since the first thing that got you and me talking was whiskey." You're glad your face is already flushed, or Lando would see the giant blush covering your entire face. 

"Oh, uh, ahaha yeah, we can stop here." You place your guitar down, fluff out the blanket, and grab bug spray and sunscreen. "Come here. You'll cook like cornbread in a cast iron." Lando turns with confusion on his face that has you smiling. "You'll burn Lando. Come here so I can put sunscreen on you." You explain as he shrugs off his shirt. "Shit," You whisper, and his eyes cast up. "What? Something wrong?" As he spins around looking for something. 

"Wha, oh no, nothing, here." You hand the sunscreen to him, looking away from him. Lando takes it and smiles as he sprays everything on you. Removing your top, he easily applies it to you as well. 

You don't know how much time passes under the southern sun, but the soft breeze makes it bearable for you and Lando. "What are you writing?" His voice was smooth, like the wind was barely touching you. "A new song," You reply and scratch out some words. "Well, I figured that, Whiskey, but I meant, what exactly are you writing?" Lando rolls over onto his stomach, hands under his chin as he looks up at you through his lashes. "Oh, well, it's something new. I doubt the fans would like it." You comment, fixing the guitar settled on your knee. 

"That I doubt. I don't usually listen to country, but if from the songs I've heard from you if this new song is anything like the ones I know, people will love it." Lando smiles, smile brighter than the damn sun. "Yeah, well, Rhett would disagree with you there." You snort, "Whose Rhett?" Lando sits up now, eyebrows bunched. 

"My ex, he's a bull rider. Cassie's older brother," You add on, and Lando rolls his eyes. "Well, Rhett is a jackass." You giggle and look at him. "You don't even know him," "I know he clearly didn't support you. Your new song will be awesome. Play it for me." Lando scoots closer, and you lean back, unsure if you should. "It's different," You whisper. 

"Different is good. It heals the soul sometimes. Now, play." Lando demands, eyes boring into yours. "Fine." You grumble and peel the guitar off your sweaty knee onto your lap. "It'd sound better with my electric guitar, okay, just don't judge." You warn, but Lando shakes his head no. "I'd never judge you, Whiskey." 

Okay," You take a deep breath, strum the first couple of strings, and start singing the words. 

Used to spend my nights out in a barroom

Liquor was the only love I'd known

But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom

And brought me back from bein' too far gone

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

I've looked for love in all the same old places

Found the bottom of a bottle's always dry

But when you poured out your heart, I didn't waste it

'Cause there's nothin' like your love to get me high

And you're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

When you finish, you sigh and look at Lando, who is staring at you. "Ugh, god, I knew it! This song sucks. Listen, there is supposed to be a guitar solo, and I probably won't even give it my record. Ugh!" You yell and flop back, squinting at the sun. "That was," you brace yourself for the lashing for how different it wasn't you or the image you were giving the world. It was different, and people would stop listening to you and the band. 

"THE BEST SONG EVERY" "What!" You sit up as Lando launches himself at you, pushing you back down and hovering over you. You swallow hard, focusing on his chain dangling around his neck. "Whiskey, that was fabulous. You have to give your record label that song. And finish it; I want to hear all of it, promise me." He pleads, and you nod your head as he pulls off you; sitting up, you blink, trying to control the urge to devour his lips. 

"Oi! Love birds, time to go in. Can smell the rain coming!" Lando hops up and nods as you just quietly pack up your guitar. Lando walks past, but Judd stops you. "Do I need to kick his ass?" He whispers, and you shake your head. "No," "Then what's wrong, Y/n?" "He believes in me," Judd lets his hand slip, and you walk off, leaving your friend smirking. 

-----------------------------------

"Ugh, I'm stuffed. Seriously, tell me what this is." Lando gives Cassie and Judd puppy eyes, but they just share a look and quickly snatch all the plates. "Nope," Lando deflates and groans, and goes over to the radio and turns it up slightly. The storm and music make a perfect blend. You four were out under the tin roof of the large porch. It was about 12 ft by 12ft and had a built-in fireplace. 

It was where your grandpa would come and pick with his band, and now, where you sit and do the same thing. You swear, sometimes you can still hear that damn banjo or violin. You lean back in your rocking chair, the same one he sat in and taught you how to play, Lando coming up and sitting beside you. 

"Friday is in 4 days," He whispers, and you clear your throat, hating the thought of Lando leaving. "I know, and it's probably best we get there early." You reply, tightening your hand on the beer bottle. "Teach me how to dance." You turn, shocked by the change of subject. "Judd told me you're taking me to some get-together and that there will be line dancing. So teach me." You blink at him and sigh, "I don't know how to." Lando chuckles and stands. 

"Okay, then just dance with me." Lando holds his hand out to you, staring at you, gently lacing your fingers together. Lando tugs you up, and you quickly melt together as you don't listen to the music. Just the way his hand holds yours and the weight of his arm on your waist. "Screw it," You whisper and place your head on his shoulder, nose brushing his neck. "I have to leave for Begas after Friday's event." "Be quiet." Not wanting to hear about him leaving. 

"Whiskey, I don't want to leave, but you know," "Lando, just dance with me." You whisper, effectively making the Brit snap his mouth closed. 

"Judy," Cassie whispers and gently pokes Judd, who groans and opens his eyes. "What," He grumbles and yawns stretching. "Think it's about him?" Cassie whispers, and Judd turns his head and sees you and Lando dancing more to the pounding sound of rain and thunder. 

"What's about him?" Judd reaches over, snatches Cassie's opened beer, and sips. "That song she's writing, the one she stopped. I bet it is; she's never really experienced love." Cassie whispers, and Judd rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder whose fault it is." Cassie flinches, knowing her brother Rhett really fucked you up, something she regrets every day. 

"He's different." Judd looks over and watches as Lando kisses your forehead softly and closes his eyes, leaning more into you. "I sure hope so; I'd hate to bury him in the backyard." 

-----------------------------------------

"It's loud in here!" Lando yells, which has you and your friends laugh. "Seriously? You had us buy a race and listen to real F1 cars, and you say this is loud?" You yell in his ear, Lando's arm tightening into your side. "Yeah, well, we get earbuds!" Lando screams, fixing his cowboy hat. A black one with an orange string tied around it. Other than that, it looked average. Judd had picked out Lando's outfit, reminding you why you loved your best friend so much. 

Lando was wearing a white button-down with a couple of buttons undone to show off his various necklaces and had black jeans paired with it; they hugged his thighs and ass so perfectly that even Cassie stared. He wore the cowboy boots you bought for him, and you giggled; he looked a little silly with the hat, but he loved the hat and refused to go without it. 

"Now, can we dance?" He points to the line dance. It was to the song Country Girl by Luke Bryan, and you laugh, shaking your head no. "Hell no, I'll trip." Lando chuckles as Judd ushers you to your booth and makes you and Lando sit inside. "Okay, but just once, dance like that! Promise?" You just nod in agreement even though you were dreading the thought. 

It was 2 hours of Lando begging and getting 2 dances in with Judd and Cassie that you stood, and his eyes lit up. "I'm getting us another round." Lando deflats but nods and kisses your cheek. Jolene by Dolly Parton comes on, and you run to the bar smiling and breathless. "Hey, can I get 2 beers and a double shot of JD?" The bartender turns and nods their head. 

"Still drinking like a man huh?" That voice, that voice still had your body freeze up. Fuck, what was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Texas for a competition. "What? Not going to turn around?" You shudder and turn, coming face to face with your ex, Rhett. "Rhett," Breathing out his name felt like fire on your tongue. "If it isn't my sweet baby, missed me?" He asks and leans against the bar. "Fuck off," You turn to leave, not even caring for the drinks anymore. 

"Now, now, sweets. Come here. Still trying to act like that tough girl when we both know you're still that little girl inside." He hisses, tightening his grip on you. "Let me go. I'm here with someone." "Really? You aren't wearing his hat." 

Judd looks over, wondering where you could take so long and tense. "Fuck, Cassie, goddammit. Your brother is here." Cassie's eyes pull away from the blonde girl beside her, and she groans. "Dammit," Cassie groans and pulls away from the girl and stands. "Whose that?" Lando asks, hearing not the best. "That would be my dickwaffle of a brother, Rhett. Y/n's ex." Lando feels anger course through his blood. "Yeah, well, you know that 2nd song we sang at the party?" Judd asks, taking off his hat and fixing his rings. "Yeah, the one about the cheating?" Lando asks, "That was about Rhett," Judd adds, and Lando moves quickly to your side. 

You feel a presence beside you and suddenly feel the heavy weight of a hat on your head. "Now, she's wearing my hat. Now let go of my girl, right now." You turn, seeing Lando and sag into his side as Rhett drips his hand. "Really? This little boy? Oh, how your taste has fallen," Rhett gets in your face, but Lando effortlessly shoves Rhett back and pushes you behind his back. 

"The only little boy I see here is you, you shriveled 2-inch dick. Get the fuck out of here," Lando seethes, and you have to smother your laughter as Judd steps up behind you and Lando easily towering over you both. Rhett blanches, knowing Judd would easily slaughter him. "Whatever, enjoy my leftovers." "I do, and I eat her out every night." Lando spits without thinking twice. You blush and move, hugging his back as you hide your face. Lando moves, covering your hands with his one large hand. 

"Mr.Norris, I think you've earned yourself a dance." You whisper, causing Lando to spin around and smile. "Really? Well, let me do the honors, darlin'." You laugh at his fake accent. "So bad," You laugh as he tugs you into his arms, leading you to the dance floor. "Stay there!" You yell and run up to the DJ booth. Lance watches as you lean over, and he's never been happier about you wearing tight jeans and a loose top. You looked damn good. 

Running back over, you keep Lando's hat on your head and see everyone clearing out, and the people who enjoy line dancing come back out. "Aight, this one is for our special guest, Miss. Y/n L/n herself," A roar surrounds you two as you turn and wave and turn to Lando. "Judd taught me this one when we were teens, so just don't judge. "This song is for you," You hear the familiar DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaaaa DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaDaaDaaDaaaa feels your ears and Lando whips his head to you. 

"Are you serious? You know this song!" And Lando gets a cheeky smirk on his face. "Remind me to introduce you to Daniel one day." Rolling your eyes, the heavy guitar beat hits, and you tell Lando to follow your movement. Stepping forward and then back, Lando moves with you. 

Well, I walk into the room

Passing out hundred dollar bills

And it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill

And I buy the bar a double round of crown

And everybody's getting down

An' this town ain't never gonna be the same

With the lyrics, you laugh and step side and then jump and turn, shuffling your feet forward like a horse walking. Lando laughs, head back as he does it as well. 

'Cause I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Getting to the chorus was always your favorite part. Hearing the line, you take off the hat, as does every other female, and some guys swing the hat around and stop. Lando laughs but you stop him, "Only those that ride do that part." Lando's eyes widened, and you smirked, glad you could catch him off guard. "I think I've got it now." He yells. 

Well I don't give a dang about nothing

I'm singing and Bling-Blinging

While the girls are drinking

Long necks down!

And I wouldn't trade ol' Leroy

Or my Chevrolet for your Escalade

Or your freak parade

I'm the only John Wayne left in this town

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

You and Lando dance as his arms wrap around you, and you two do the moves in sync as he catches on quickly. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" You two scream, and you swing the hat and pull him close, Lando leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back, kick up your right heel, and go back to the moves. 

I'm a thourough-bred that's what she said

In the back of my truck bed

As I was gettin' buzzed on suds

Out on some back country road

We where flying high Fine as wine

Having ourselves a big and rich time

And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long

So I took her out giggin frogs

Introduced her to my old bird dog

And sang her every Wilie Nelson song I could think of

And we made love

"Does that mean I'm your thoroughbred?" Lando jokes, but his voice reaches a deeper tune, and you turn, smirking. "Why? Wanna be?" You ask, making the moves backward as Lando pulls you in. 

And we made love

And I saddled up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

What? What?

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Lando leans in, and so do you; this time, there are no interruptions as Lando captures your lips, and you melt into him. You never understood some country songs about love, having thought you might experience it with a true southern boy like Rhett. But who would've thought you'd feel it was some Brit. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy," Lando whispers, pulling away, and you giggle. "Earn that belt buckle first, big boy, and then we'll see." Lando bursts out laughing, a high-pitched, gasping one that makes you laugh hard as the beat fades. 

------------------------------------

Lando stands in the bar, the same one just a week ago, and you two stand in your same spots, but this time you don't wear your daddy's hat; instead, you're wearing Lando's and possibly the white dress shirt from last night. "Is that your shirt?" Oscar asks, and Lando turns and shrugs but knowing damn well it was. 

"It sucks we won't be able to see them again?" Lando tunes it out. You and he talked about it last night. And you both knew that this could work; besides, he was your country song, and you his Whiskey; you two weren't goin nowhere. "Yeah right; JD was so damn happy with their show they invited them to their private booth for Vegas," Jackie yells, and Lando smirks and moves through the darkness. 

You yelp when cold hands touch your skin, and you turn, smirking when you see those sea-green eyes you love so much. "So Vegas, uh?" He asks, and you sigh rolling your eyes. "Yeah, Judd wants to go." "Really not to see me?" "Okay, maybe you too." You tease, and Lando nods and leans in, kissing you gently before pulling. 

"So, how about it's only fair you spend a week in my world now?" You think it over, wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod. "Only fair," "Yeah, only fair." You muse and hear gagging beside you and turn, glaring at Cassie, who is wearing round pink-tinted glasses. "You two make me sick. Bad enough, we heard you all last night; now we gotta see this?" Cassie groans while Judd cackles. 

"Leave the kids alone, grandma. They're in love." "What'd you just call me?" Judd yelps as Cassie smacks him hard with her drumstick. Turning back, you face Lando. "Tell me your coworkers aren't like this?" Lando laughs nervously and shrugs. "We're totally fucked," Lando and you giggle as you hear Jackie yell loudly, introducing you 3, bringing back a sense of deja vu. 

But you knew the cute Brit behind the bar was coming home with you this time. "Go kill it, Whiskey." Running onto the stage, you smile into the bright spotlight. "Alright, we're starting off with something new. It's called Tennessee Whiskey," 

[ghouljams]

pls can we get a crumb of service top ghost knight doing a quickie in the castle stairwells i beg

I might've misunderstood what part of the service top we were looking for here...

“Thought I might find you here,” Ghost says, you lift your head from your folded arms to look at him. Even a few steps down you have to tilt your head to meet his eye. Your fault for sitting you suppose. You scoot to press against the wall, give him room to sit on the step next to you. Well, not exactly next to you, a step down, enough to give you privacy as you sigh. “Want to talk about what just happened?”

“Not particularly,” You huff, settle your chin in your hands, content just to nudge Ghost with your knee. You like seeing him all dressed up, you know he still has his chainmail under his jacket, you might be the only one that knows that. He’s a handsome figure even with it. It’s too bad he wears a mask for parties, but you suppose that adds to his charm.

You wouldn’t want anyone else to see the crooked nose you’d accidentally broken, or the lips that smile just for you. You reach to straighten his collar, and he catches your hand. Rough calloused fingers lace between your much softer ones. You’re unused to feeling his hands, they speak to years of dedication, hard work. Something you could never dream of. You’re almost jealous that he seems to tell the full tale of his life on just his skin. You sometimes wonder if you’ll even be lucky enough to appear as a footnote in your family tree. You’re sure they’ll be singing Ghost’s songs for generations. 

“All those men just see me as a means to an end,” You grumble. Ghost hums, you wiggle your fingers in his grasp, tapping his knuckles. You try not to hope for his thoughts of you. It doesn’t work, but you still try. 

“Is that why you stomped on the Marques’ foot and ran off?” He asks, amused, never judgemental.

“No,” You frown, stop your tapping, “I stomped on his foot because he grabbed my ass.” Probably trying to get a feel for what he was getting into if he became king. Just the thought of having to go to bed with that man makes you shudder. Ghost is silent for a long moment. It’s an insult against you, you both know it, but there’s little you can do at such a public function. Not like you can have your knight chop off his hand in the middle of the ballroom.

Although you’re sure he wants to. You’ve never seen Ghost stand for any disrespect against you. It’s comforting to know that you always have him in your corner. Certainly makes you less upset that he knows all your hiding places. You think just having him here is enough sometimes, just being near your pillar of safety. Your knight in shining armor.

Ghost twists to stand and face you, pulling you to your feet with your joined hands. “Come on, back to the ball,” He tells you, you pout and he sighs, “None of that, be a good girl for me, princess. Don’t wanna have’ta carry you.” Although the smile in Ghost’s voice begs to differ. You offer him a smile.

“Just to the bottom of the stairs?” You try, you know how easily Ghost caves to you. He releases your hand and you wrap your arms around his neck, feel him wrap an arm around your legs, another around your back. You’re easily lifted into his hold, your legs dangling nicely under his arm as you bury your face against his shoulder.

He’s warm, sturdy. You breathe him in and smell leather, steel, the last tinge of campfire smoke, Simon. You think you feel his head dip, the ever so gentle nudge of his nose against your hair. You press into him, tighten your grip on his shoulders as his fingers tighten on your dress. You haven’t moved, haven’t started your descent down the stairs. Why should you? You have everything you could ever need right here. 

I love you, you think, I never want anyone else to touch me. You pull back enough to look at him, to meet Ghost’s drawn expression. He’s so close, just waiting for you. If you never see another soul you’ll at least have seen him, at least have loved him. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him. You slide your hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek, he closes his eyes like you’ve struck him.

“Don’t-” He rasps, you freeze, “don’t make this harder than it has to be my lady.”

“Of course,” You drop your hand, turn your face away from him. Of course. You swallow down your heart, and feel him start down the stairs.

[lokis-army-77]

Soul Searching

Demon!Soulmate!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Soulmates are rare, even rarer for demons, and yet here you are.

Warning: 18 +. unprotected sex, p n v, not really anything else I don't think.

Thank you to @my-malachai-stilinski for requesting more demon!eddie and @lofaewrites for beta reading💗

Masterlist

It’s closing in on nine at night. Eddie had started his reaping early, hoping there would be more souls to claim when the streets were busy instead of waiting until two or three. 

He was right. Of course, there were more wicked souls to take with him back into the depths of his home, to dump upon some imp who loved to torture and torment. 

As the night went on, he couldn’t help but feel a shift in the breeze as he crouched atop a high roof, watching and waiting for another bounty. Then, the most wonderful scent filled his nostrils. It was like heaven, if there were such a place for him.

He sniffed the air like a hound dog tracking its prey. Magically poofing into thin air only to appear three rooftops away, he searched for what could smell so delicious. 

It only took a matter of minutes until he found you. Your sweet smell permeated through the air and he felt like he could get drunk on it if only he were closer. 

Souls usually never smelled this good, this intoxicating. The ones he encountered on a daily basis, the souls of the truly evil, smelled of rot and decay. Some even smelt of sulfur, pungent, and singed the nose. But not you. Your soul was a bed of freshly picked flowers, honey drizzled on a warm pastry. He couldn’t get enough of it. 

So, he followed you into the night. Sulking through the shadows keeping a watchful eye. 

In his diligence, he sees you stumble and in a flash he's behind you, catching you before you land on your ass. 

You let out a small yelp, expecting to feel the hard ground under you. You don't. You feel two warm hands holding onto your waist, keeping you steady. 

You turn around to thank your savior only to stop suddenly in your movement. You've never felt this feeling before, this warmth spreading through your stomach and the small tingles in your limbs. Yet you know what it is. You've heard of others meeting their soulmates but never had you imagined this meeting would make the group feel like it were shaking beneath your feet.

As you look at him, you realize he isn't entirely human. The back of your mind is screaming at you to cower, to run away and hide. But you don't. The pull of your soulmate stops you from being terrified by those curving horns protruding from his mess of curly hair and the spade tail that had curled its way around your ankle.

It feels like a giant lump in your throat when you start to speak. 

"H-" you swallow. "Hi." 

He stares at you, his golden eyes slit like a cat, taking you in. "Hello."

His voice is deep and rich, almost a purr. 

Eddie thinks you smell even better up close. His nose is picking up even the faintest scents now, the blood running through your veins, the wetness forming between your thighs. 

"Are you my soulmate?" You ask, eyes wide.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He'd never heard of demons having a soulmate. At least no other demon he knew had one, they all just assumed that would no longer have one thanks to their so-called "fall from grace". 

But that would explain your smell. How it was so unique he had never smelled it before. It would also explain why you weren't running from him, screaming, trying to get away. 

Finally, he speaks. "I believe so."

He reaches out his hand, fingers long and thick, and he catches your upper arm. It's like his mind has been taken over by some primal instinct as he pulls you flush to him.

You don't try to fight it. Instead, you nuzzle into him. He smells wonderful, like the smoke from a burning cedar tree and something you can't quite place. 

Then you feel it. The arousal that's started to pool in your panties. You've just met this creature and now he's making you hornier than you've ever been, and you know he knows too with the way his fingers are gripping your skin. 

Eddie is trying to hold off, trying not to take you where you're standing. He's been so lonely for so long and now here you are smelling so sweet that he just has to have a taste. 

He slides his hands up to cup your cheeks. He surges forward while also bringing you to him. When your lips connect, he feels a strong tingle down his spine to the tip of his tail.

You feel something too. A sense of want and need but also belonging. His lips on yours feel like home, like someplace familiar, where you are meant to be. 

Lips pressing on each other's he opens his mouth and presses his tongue into yours, slipping past your teeth and into the warmth of you. He hums and how well you fit together like this and can't help but wonder how well other parts of you will fit. 

He lets out a groan when you slink your arms around his neck, pulling him into you more. 

You've both become needy. Trying to devour one another in the half-light of the street. 

You whimper, legs pressing together. "Take me." Your voice is quiet against his lips, barely above a whisper. "Take me please." You need him, badly. 

Eddie hums against you. Hands still pressing against your cheeks, still pulling you to him.

You know this is going way too fast and so does he but carnal desires can't be stopped once they've started. Not if you're a touch-starved demon and his soulmate.

A gust of wind whips your hair and your stomach drops like when you move way too fast on an amusement park ride.

You gawk when you pull away from the demon to survey your surroundings. You weren’t on the sidewalk anymore. No, you were in a bedroom. 

He watched as you walked around the enormous room. Fingers danced over the wooden posts to the bed. Your eyes were full of wonder as you took in what could only be described as a room taken straight out of an episode of Game of Thrones. 

There were red and black fabrics thrown about the room, several rugs covered the stone floor. Candelabras were lit sporadically around the room as well as torched lining the walls between tapestries depicting gruesome battles.

You turn back to him and are met with heavily lidded eyes. He disappears only to reappear directly in front of you. You gasp.

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face as he says, "You are mine now. Forever." Then he's crashing his lips onto yours once more. 

You crave him, so deep down in your core that it hurts to not have him touching you. So you claw at his clothes. The 80s metal shirt you hadn't realized he was wearing and the leather jeans. 

He follows your lead, taking each item of clothing off until all that was left was his pale skin glowing in the candlelight. He carefully begins to pull your own clothes off, only continuing when you nod your head at his questioning gaze. 

Then, when you are both naked, he mounds his mouth to your skin. Kissing and nipping up and down your neck and shoulders. He walks you backward catching you with strong hands when your knees hit the bed and give out. 

"You're so soft…" He speaks his hands roaming over your hips and backside. "Never felt something so soft in my whole existence."

You can't help but chuckle and let your own hands drift over his strong chest, nails scratching, creating long red marks down his pecs and stomach. 

Leaning up, you kiss him again. Slow and soft and all at once. You pull him down with you as you fall back on the bed. He follows, catching himself with solid arms on either side of you. 

His body covers you completely. 

You break away from the kiss. His dark, lustful, loving eyes stare into yours with an intensity you've never encountered before. 

As you look back at him, eyes exploring every inch of his face, you ask, "What's your name?" 

He looks a little shocked at the question but answers nonetheless. "Eddie."

You hum in response. "I like that name." You bring his back to you and kiss along his cheek over the bridge of his nose to the other cheek. 

"Yeah? I'll make you scream it after a while." He grins wickedly. "But for now I would like to take my time with you. Feel you. Own you."

He takes his fingers and trails them lightly over the contours of your body erecting goosebumps in their wake. Starting from your shoulder, over your collarbone, between your breasts, and past your navel. They stop just above your pussy. 

Impatiently you buck your hips. 

"Now now." He admonishes, taking his hand away. "Don't try and rush me, pet." 

You whine but concede. 

His fingers begin to touch you between your thighs. Massaging into the plush flesh. You sigh, in contentment. 

"Eddie-" His name is a whisper on the wind. 

His spine tingles when he hears you. He never thought those two syllables of his name could ever sound as good as they do when you say them. 

He wants to hear you say it again. He wants to hear you say it over and over and over until your voice gives out. 

"Say it again," He growls. 

And you gasp it out. "Eddie!" When his fingers gently push through your folds. 

The wetness he finds between your legs has him vibrating. All this just for him, your soulmate. He spreads the slick around, savoring how you shudder in his hold when he swipes over your clit. 

He doesn’t want to wait any longer, he’s hardly holding it together as it is. He wants to feel you wrapped around him. 

So, he moves. Thick fingers wrap around your ankles and pull your legs apart. He slots them on either side of himself before pulling you flush, the backs of your thighs meeting the tops of his. 

With no moment to waste, Eddie takes his cock into his hand and gives it a few pumps. He’s huge. Long and thick around. You have no idea how he’s going to fit but you desperately need him inside of you. 

“Please. Need your cock in me.” You beg and wiggle your hips ever so slightly. 

He just chuckles and guides the tip to your waiting entrance. You think it’s fine when he first pushes in, slowly. But as he keeps going, he keeps stretching you. In seconds you are turned into nothing more than a whimpering mess. 

People had talked about how the first time with their soulmates had gone. How the sex was the best they had ever had, how it was so good they couldn’t get enough. But this… This was earth-shattering. 

Maybe it was because your soulmate obviously wasn’t human but you know this isn’t the feeling that normal soulmate copulation tends to elicit. 

You can practically feel you becoming one. Your walls are molding around him the further in he goes, and his cock hits every single spot inside you that brings pleasure. It’s been less than a minute and you’re already shaking.

Eddie falls forward, caging you in below him. His head rests between your neck and shoulder where he opens his mouth and lets his tongue lave at the sweat beginning to cast over you. Even your skin tastes sickeningly sweet. 

His mind is becoming foggy, your cunt is sucking him in, forming to him. He can't help but mutter, “You were made for me… Fuck you feel so good.”  

His lips brush against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His chest presses against yours and you can feel his heart beating against your skin. It’s all so much for the both of you. 

You’re moaning, loud, and uncaring as he ruts into you. You cry his name, “Eddie!” He just growls when he hears you. 

“Need you so bad.” He grunts. “Need you so so bad.” 

You can feel him all over you. Every place your skin touches, even the slightest bit, is lit up, tingling with a sensation akin to icy hot. 

It hasn’t been that long. He hasn’t been inside you for that long but you can feel that tightness forming. That all too familiar sensation of ecstasy banging at the door to be let out. You moan, trying to hold yourself back. Your hands cling to the demon, nails biting through his skin. 

You can feel him smiling against your neck as his hips move just a tiny bit faster. 

“Let go.” He says. “Let go and show me how good I can make you feel.”  

It’s like his words have some kind of power over you. You can feel yourself letting go. That tightness pulling ever tighter until it snaps. 

His grip tightens and he's pushing deeper, faster. Your orgasm crashes through you, washing over you in a powerful, unstoppable wave. You feel yourself trembling, your body shaking, and spasming. 

“That's it. That’s a good girl. Feel so good cumming around my cock. 

Eddie is still pumping into you, close to his own release. “Say my name.” He mewls, lips coming to slot against your own. 

“Eddie,” You moan. 

“Again,” He begs.” 

“Eddie.” 

“Louder. Scream it if you have to.”

And you do. You scream his name and as soon as you do you feel his cock twitch inside you and right after he lets go. Moaning and whimpering against your mouth. 

He doesn’t move to get off of you, even after he’s spilled everything he could inside of you. He lays there, his body weight a comfort to you.  

You wrap your arms around him and close your eyes as you savor the moment. He finally pulls away and you open your eyes to see him smiling down at you. He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips. 

“I’m so glad I found you,” he whispers. 

You pull him to you, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and whisper in his ear. “Me too.” 

[monsterbachelors]

The Three Don'ts of Sabertooth Brewing

[contains semi-public sex + fem!reader]

SUMMARY: You visit Yanu at work on a slow night. One thing leads to another and just when things get exciting, something both unpleasant and unexpected forces you to take a rain check on back-alley romps.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

A smile brightens your face when you see the Sabertooth Brewing sign from across the street. The venue doesn’t look like an appropriate place for a young lady without nefarious motives but at the same time, the entirety of the Copper Valley district doesn’t appear so. Nonetheless, you couldn’t think of a safer place to be. Whatever turf wars the former copper miners lead, they all agreed to omit Yanu and his business. It reached the point where some locals called the bar “the embassy” as it’s the only neutral ground in the neighbourhood.

The rough-looking miners curtly nod at you as you walk past them. A cloud of smoke and soot surrounds the two men. They always stand near the entrance of the locale but never go inside. Smoking one cigarette after another, their job must be to ensure that Yanu stays largely unbothered by the conflicts of Copper Valley. So far, they’ve been excellent at doing their duties.

You giggle quietly as you read the sign hanging on the front door:

Don’t: - fight - spill drinks - ask Q’rill to make a mojito

A bell chimes when you push the door open. Low, yellow lights make the interior look cosy. Conversations held by the patrons sitting in booths and around small tables are drowned out by a trio playing a familiar swing tune. The smell of cigarette smoke fills your lungs and sticks to your clothes. Two waiters weave between tables and clients, faux joy plastered to their faces. One of them notices you - she gives you a quick wave and nods towards the long bar counter.

Although he is surrounded by bottles filled with colourful drinks, it’s impossible to overlook Yanu. Maybe it’s a general rule or perhaps it’s just your fatal affliction. He’s wearing a shirt, a vest and a pair of tailored pants - exactly what one would expect a bartender to wear. Seemingly lost in thought, he’s just wiping some glasses but still, there is something unspeakably captivating about him. An aura that paints him as extraordinary and not just the way he is.

Yanu must notice you approaching out of the corner of his eye. When his gaze meets yours, his expression immediately changes. The deep, pink scar across his blind right eye gives the rakshasa a certain edge but even that isn’t enough to hide the pure adoration painted all over his face. His blue iris stares at you lovingly until a shadow of mischief dances across Yanu’s features.

“My, my, I don’t recall having an appointment with a princess,” he speaks with pretend surprise.

“Princesses don’t make appointments,” you answer casually. Sitting on the high bar stool, you’re still significantly shorter than the rakshasa behind the counter. “They just show up when they want to.”

He chuckles in a low voice. “Gods bless them for that.”

Yanu leans on his forearms on the counter and hangs his head to let you kiss his cheek. Round, furry ears adorned with silver jewellery flutter as they brush against your hair. It tickles when his whiskers touch your face. 

Feeling his breath against your skin, you don’t have to speak loudly. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“You,” he points an accusatory finger at you, “interrupt my every coherent thought but I’ve learnt to enjoy that.”

Suddenly, your face gets hot. “I’m being serious, Yanu,” you say through flustered giggles. Even after all this time, it’s beyond easy for him to make you giddy.

“Likewise.” He winks at you before standing up straight. “So how can I spoil a princess’s palate?”

“Hm… I feel like elderberry.”

“Drunk all the time, feeling fine on elderberry wine*,” he sings while looking around for ingredients. The idea for a cocktail comes to him in an instant as befits a true connoisseur.

Yanu appears to be in a trance as he pours and mixes lemonade, vodka, St-Germain and some thyme. Every action is quick and decisive but never careless. Similarly, you are in a sort of trance, too - watching his white shirt and elegant black vest strain around the muscles of his arms. One day the seams of the garments might just let go but say, would it really be so bad?

The rakshasa pours elderflower syrup into the shaker. With a swift flick of his wrist, the shaker with your cocktail-to-be flips in the air. The metal cup makes a full circle only to be caught again by his hand, its content poured into a square drinking glass.

He looks at you in anticipation. Satisfaction is written all over his face. “Pretty nice, right?”

But you’re in a bantering mood tonight. Not letting him see how in awe you truly are, you only raise your eyebrows. “You have huge arms. It would be more impressive if you dropped that.”

Yanu sighs dramatically. He shakes his head and crosses his arms across his chest. If it wasn’t for the glimmer of amusement in his good eye, you’d think he’s genuinely upset. “And here I thought that a lowlife like me could impress a princess.”

“Well…” you ponder for a moment, “there are a few things you could do with your hands that would be impressive.”

Something changes about his demeanour. The amusement stayed but now it is joined by some darkness that leaves an aftertaste of chocolates with brandy - warming and rejuvenatingly bittersweet.

“Really?” he asks in a low voice. His blue eye is watching you intensely, almost looking through you. “Pray tell, what do you have in mind?”

Perhaps there’s some perversion to it but you enjoy leaving his question unanswered for a while. Slowly, you sip on the drink, silently enjoying the perfectly balanced flavours. Not too sweet, not too sour. A true testimony of how well Yanu knows you. That passionate gaze of his never once leaves you, catching even the smallest of movements. A predator or a lover? - how similar these two can be.

“A princess shouldn’t be saying such things out loud,” you finally say.

Yanu leans on his arms against the bar counter. With each exhale, his warm breath gently brushes against your face. There’s some intensity hidden under his casual demeanour as though if you were to play your cards right, he might just cause scandalous immodesty in full view of the clients.

“Will she share them away from prying ears?” More than a question, it’s a suggestion. One that you have neither the will nor the want to reject.

Feigning innocence, you shrug your shoulders. “Perhaps.”

The rakshasa only chuckles. He stands up straight and calls out to someone:

“Hey, Q’rill! Watch the bar for me for a bit, eh?”

The drow, equally well-dressed as Yanu, doesn’t even look your way. Still cutting a lemon into pieces, he answers in a heavy accent, “Got you, boss.”

Not waiting for a sign or a word of encouragement, you get off the stool and walk towards the closer end of the counter. Ever the gentleman, Yanu lifts the wooden part, letting you go behind the bar. But that’s not where the two of you are headed - you follow him through the back of the brewery, only to leave through the staff door.

The alley is dark and narrow. Something rattles in the skip filled with trash, probably a rat or two. In the distance, far away from where you’re standing, cars drive by every now and again. Muffled swing music played by the trio inside the bar sounds like an ambience of a faraway world.

Yanu pushes you against the wall. He’s towering over you - if he so wished, he could effortlessly throw you over his shoulder and carry off.  The bricks are cold against your back but soon you find them refreshing when compared to the warmth beaming from the rakshasa. His rough tongue slowly licks the side of your neck. It’s strange, tickling and absolutely delightful. 

One of his hands lifts your leg, resting your knee against his hips. Lustful greediness has him grabbing and groping whatever part of your thigh and ass.

Just when a pleased sigh leaves your lips, Yanu stops licking your neck and nuzzles it instead.

“So how can I impress my princess?” he purrs into your ear. 

He’s not waiting for an answer - not really. Not when you feel his clothed erection grinding against your groin. You can almost feel your arousal dripping down your legs.

Yanu’s other hand slides into your underwear. His fingers, thick and furry, sensually rub your clit in circles. Breath hitches in your throat. “Would this impress her?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you manage to say between whimpers.

The rakshasa only hums in response. It’s hard to say whether your answer satisfies him.

A loud moan escapes your lips as Yanu easily slips his fingers inside your pussy. The stretch is already more than enough for you. Slow strokes have him reaching deliciously deep inside you.

“You look so pretty like this, princess.”

Looking for support, your hands grab his shoulders. It feels as though your abdomen is suddenly set on fire, your coherent thoughts swimming away and turning into static, if not disappearing completely. There is only Yanu, his quiet groans against your neck and his thick fingers hitting that perfect spot.

“Faster, please,” you squeal.

With utmost pleasure, he obliges immediately. It feels so good you could scream but not a sound leaves your agape mouth. If you weren’t so lost in your pleasure, maybe you’d notice your legs quivering. Your grip on his shoulders only tightens, earning a chuckle from him.

“My princess is going to come?” Yanu coos.

No answer comes from you, only another pathetic moan. Desperate to orgasm, you begin rubbing your clit. It’s “allowed” in these extraordinary circumstances. No doubt Yanu’s “I live to please you” attitude will come back behind closed doors and between the white sheets of your bed.

Your vagina is clenching around his relentlessly thrusting fingers, your whole body begins shaking. A cry gets stuck in your throat. The wave of pleasure, the climax he so eagerly gives you, washes over you more like a tsunami than a wave. It drowns out your thoughts, your breathing, your strength. Fortunately, Yanu has a tight grip around your leg, keeping you standing straight. He’s still sliding in and out of you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Finally, he slips his fingers out of you. You’re about to say something, thank him or praise him, when a loud crash resounds from inside the bar. Someone’s yelling but the voice is too muffled for either of you to understand what’s the matter.

Yanu and you exchange a look of both confusion and worry. Then, as though lovers know something akin to telepathy, the two of you chuckle.

“Mojito,” you say simultaneously.

When your laughter, contrary to the row next door, dies down, you let out a sigh. “Guess we’ll have to postpone our little escapade.” 

Yanu brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s a cheeky man, staring right into your eyes while doing something so indecent. “I’m fine with that,” comes the answer.

But you can play that game, too.

Low groan rumbles inside his chest when your hand teasingly rubs his prominent bulge. He clenches his fists, doing his utmost best to keep himself collected. You could so easily make him fail at that…

“Are you, though?” you ask with faux innocence.

Although you’ve just had a great orgasm, you can feel your pussy throbbing again. As your mind wanders for a second or two, pondering possibilities, your mouth starts watering.

Yanu firmly grabs the wrist of your hand caressing his crotch. Keeping you in place, he grinds against your palm. Through clenched teeth, he growls into your ear.

“I’m a big boy,” the rakshasa purrs. “I can wait a few hours.”

“I know you’re big, boy,” you retort in an equally sultry voice. “I’ll see you home.”

In a loving gesture, he nuzzles against your neck one last time. “Don’t stray.”

After that, he watches you walk away. Only when you disappear behind the corner does he go back inside the bar. As much as he likes Q’rill, he’d much rather go back home with you.

_____

*Lyrics from "Elderberry wine" by Elton John. A bit of an anachronism, yes, but a damn good song.

If you see any books, plays, movies, paintings or songs mentioned, it's most probably something very close to my heart :)

I'm also a complete greenhorn in writing smut, so bear with me as I learn on the go.

[s-4pphics]

let the rain sing. 2 (a.a)

wc;cw: 4.1k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap (oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi <3, SMUT MDNI, nipple play, eating out no bbq, strap ons, fingering, mating press😳, dirty talk, squirting, dumbification, slight dubcon, choking, mult. orgasms, abby’s so pussy drunk soo real, angst :(, mentions of grief and loss, dassit me finks

You were going to kill somebody. It’s been declared. 

Your latest lecture was, by far, the worst you’ve ever had, and you were feeling vengeful. On your instructor, your classmates, everyone.

You seethed in your seat, smoke nearly wafting off you and suffocating you in the tight space of your car. You prayed that you wouldn’t get a speeding ticket from how hard your foot pressed on the gas pedal. The familiar sluggishness that overtook your form was making you hunch over the steering wheel, your worn eyes burning from tears as you recollected the pure devastation you felt when you saw terms on the screen that you weren’t familiar with yet just an hour before.  

You’d brought the wrong notebook to your last class, making the lecture completely fucking useless because you had nothing to reference. There were so many systems listed that you hadn’t memorized, terminology you didn’t remember from your books. And you were going to fucking… kill somebody. 

You’d been so fucking embarrassed. Nobody around you even knew or cared about your slip up, but you still searched around the room, waiting for someone to ridicule you for fucking up this late in the game. You were about to graduate, and you still were behaving like a fucking rookie. A first year. Maybe you weren’t ready for your fucking degree. 

You’d scrambled to get as many notes down as you could without snapping your hand clean off your wrist, but it wasn’t enough to jog your memory. 

Your vehicle came to a halt when you reached the now all too familiar neighborhood, and you put your car in park in front of the residential mailbox. 

You hadn’t realized that you took the backwoods route that led to Abby’s neighborhood. You were parked right in front of her home, and you thanked god when you saw her car parked in the driveway. You never came to see her without warning, but you were so desperate for a distraction that you hadn’t bothered to text her. You need anything to ease the tension in your body from today, even just for a little bit. 

You exited and locked your car before booking it across the street and up the stairs to her porch, knocking on her front door with urgency; The pounding on the wood made your headache worse. 

It took only a minute for her door to pull open, and you were instantly swallowed up by the smell of flowers, her scent surrounding you and easing the tension in your shoulders. She looked so comfortable, only clad in sweats, a tank top, and slides, her soft hair framing her face. The tension in your shoulders eased a bit.

She smiled at the sight of you, the lines of her eyes creasing, but it dropped when she studied your expression, “Hi, you okay?” 

You shrugged. You don’t think you were. You weren’t sure anymore. 

Your breathing shuddered, your anger from earlier shifting into want when you saw her, “Um… sorry for coming without notice— “

She shook her head gently, “No, no, it’s alright. I was just reading, come in.”

She moved to the side and allowed you entry, shutting and locking the door behind you. 

Her angelic voice came from behind you as you threw your purse on her couch, “Would you like some tea? I just bought this new flavor! It’s mint and chamomile and it’s so good. I usually don’t drink mint things because my teeth are sensi— “

“Abby,” you cringed at the tone you used to cut her off. 

“Yes?”

You spun to look at her, “I don’t want tea.” 

“… Oh. Okay.” She looked around awkwardly, her eyes downcast. 

A moment of silence passed before she spoke, “Wanna go upstairs?” 

You're glad she understood. You nodded with persistence. 

“Please.” 

You trapped Abby against her bedroom door, slamming it shut as you shoved your tongue in her mouth. 

The kiss was eager and desperate, your hands grabbing everywhere they could on her body. You attacked her hair, tits, thighs, anywhere you could reach as you pressed up against her. Hers were on you just as much, but much more calculated, tightly grabbing at the plush on your hips, her nails digging through your sweater. She grabbed your ass through your jeans, spreading the cheeks as much as she could through the fabric. 

Your mouths were smacking together, spit coating the outside of your mouths as your teeth clanged together. It was wet and sloppy, and it made you drip in your underwear. Her strong arms came up to wrap around your hips, and she led you both over to her perfectly made bed. 

You detached your mouth from hers to yank her t-shirt off, her arms coming up so you could toss it somewhere. You eyed her bare chest before reconnecting your lips. You brought your hand up to her chest to squeeze her tits, tweaking her nipples with precision. She hummed in your mouth and kissed you deeper, her hands traveling to pull at the hem of your sweater. 

You raised your arms up so she could remove the fabric, but before you could pounce on her again, she pushed you onto her cloud-like mattress, looking down at your laid-out body from where she stood above you. 

But she didn’t move on you like she usually did; she just stared, her eyes wandering over your body. You watched her take in your bra-clad chest, wandering down to your stomach and belly button, only to come back up to eye your chest again. She was digesting you with such patience that it made you insecure, but you didn’t move from your position. Your heart matched the pounding pulse of your cunt. 

She brought her hands up to your torso, right under the hem of your bra, laying her palm flat against the bare skin. Your breath caught in your throat when her nails dug into you, and you arched into her touch; you needed her closer. Her hand slowly dragged down your body until she reached the button of your jeans. 

She didn’t undo them, dragging her hand back up your body until she reached your tits, grabbing at both with one hand before her other hand coming to join her massages. You watched her face shift as she touched you; her eyes were hungry but… fragile as her cheeks glowed in the dimly lit space. 

Her hands slipped under your bra, her fingers immediately playing with your nipples. Your core clenched with every pull she gave them, your body shuddering under her precise attacks. Your back arched into her touch as your eyes fluttered. 

And then you heard the ripping of fabric. 

You looked down in shock as she tore at your bra, completely ripping it to shreds and tossing the flimsy strands behind her and onto the floor. You couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face at her desperation. She giggled when you shook your head at her. 

She leaned over you, her head ducking down to suck your nipples into her mouth; She moaned into the skin as her tongue swirled around you. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch her lath at your chest, coating them in her spit as her tongue flicked on your buds.

Your hips twitched under her body, “Fuck me, Abby, please— “ 

“Needa get you wet first, baby,” she hummed around your nipple, her words shaking the sensitive skin. You jerked, your legs twitching next to her hips. 

“I’m so fuckin’ wet already, c’mon, gimme what I want— “

Your words were cut off by her soft lips as they molded against yours. You made a small noise, your eyes slowly fluttering shut at the feel of her pillowy mouth. She kissed you with so much care and affection, and it made you squirm, your thighs squeezing around her waist. 

You were pulled out of your trance when you felt her hand on your cheek, her thumb softly caressing your face. You instantly stiffened; She was so sweet, too fucking gentle, and it your heart pound at an alarming pace, anxiety suddenly swirling in your stomach as you cringed. 

You gently pushed at her shoulders and looked at her, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You alright?” She checked in softly. 

You nodded quickly, your pussy squeezing at her tone. “Um… yeah. Just— can we, like— “

She shuffled off you and stood at the side of bed, awkwardly grabbing at the back of her neck as she apologized, “Yeah! Um, I’m sorry. I kinda just— “

“Don’t apologize! I’m just in a,” Lie. Just fucking lie! You looked off to the side, “… kinda in a hurry.” 

You sounded like such an asshole. You had nowhere to fucking be, but you always felt terrible whenever you were forced to shut down her intimate gestures. You had no choice but to be stiff with her; She knew what this was between you two, and it could never go beyond that. 

You watched her back muscles flex as she rummaged through her drawer, pulling out her strap and some lube. She undressed quietly, only clad in her boy shorts as she stepped into and adjusted the thick dick on her waist, securing it before turning around to look at you, returning to her previous space between your legs. 

You shivered with want, moving to unbutton your jeans, but she slapped your hands away to do it herself. She moved hastily, ripping your pants and underwear down your legs, and tossing them to the floor.

Your bare pussy throbbed as you held your legs open so she could ease into your cunt, but she yanked you to the edge of the bed, your ass hanging off it and dropped to her knees. 

She shoved her tongue inside your pussy without warning, her wet muscle wiggling around, massaging your walls as your clit pulsed. Your head dropped onto her sheets as you sighed, her tongue swiping up from your entrance to your twitchy bud. She spat the wetness she collected from inside you onto your clit and you groaned. 

She sucked it into her mouth, and you cried out, your hands flying down to her soft hair to pull at it. 

She was licking into all of your spots with enthusiasm, and your hips bucked into her mouth as your orgasm quickly built in your stomach. She took time to learn your body in a way that no one else did and it always shocked you how fast she made you cum. You could already fucking feel it with every quick flick of her tongue on you. 

You bucked in shock when you felt two of her thick fingers slip past your entrance, curling up to hit that spot inside that made you see white. She was hitting it with obscene accuracy, your pussy practically melting around her fingers with every plunge into you. You were about to see god, she was going to make you squirt—

“Fuckin’—ah fuck!”

Your orgasm was going to be big; you felt it and it was so fucking close—

You need to cum, you need it you need it! “Abby, fuck, s’coming— “

Your hands shamelessly flew behind your knees to hold your legs up, your shouts of your orgasm increasing in pitch. You craned your neck and you forced your eyes open to look down at her, finding that she was already staring up at you, watching you lose it on her tongue. 

“Feels s’good, fuck— “

She grinned on your pussy, “Then cum in m’fucking mouth, baby, needa swallow it— “

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your walls crushed her fingers, your orgasm building and building and building—

You couldn’t even understand your loud babbles as her fingers dug into you, milking your spot and forcing your cum out of you and onto her tongue. Your eyes fell shut as your body wracked in pleasure. You shouted obscenities and her name and demands of fuck me harder! The splashes of your wetness coated your thighs and her blankets and her. 

You could hear her slurping at your cum as it poured out of you, her tongue shoving in alongside the grind of her fingers. She was moaning against your pussy like she was cumming, and it made you cum harder. 

You felt her pull away and out of you, the cap of a bottle opening and sloppy wet sounds filling your ears. You nearly screamed when her dick squeezed in between your still clenching walls. Pure pleasure and shock rushed through you, prolonging the last bits of your orgasm. 

You felt a soft hand grab your chin as she allowed you to recover, your eyes fluttering open to meet her serene ones. 

“Okay, honey?” She cooed at you. 

You blinked dazedly as your walls clenched harder on her, and she chuckled, slowly pushing deeper into you, “Yeah? Missed me, baby?”

Your pussy clenched in approval, and you nodded thoughtlessly. Her nails dug into your jaw as she grinded into you, “Missed this tight fucking pussy. Always thinkin’ about it.”

You brokenly moaned her name. She pulled out and fucked back into you harder, making you squeal. 

She released the soft grip she had on your face, tightly grasping the back of your knees, and pinning them to your chest. You gasped sharply as she slid deeper, hitting where you couldn’t reach, right where you needed her. You could already feel another orgasm building in your toes, your eyes watering from the quick snap of her hips. 

You couldn’t think or talk coherently as she used you, rendering you completely brainless every time her fat tip hit your g-spot. All you could do was grab at her hips, her thighs, her sheets, and wail at the top of your lungs how good it felt. The wet sounds of your pussy drenching her dick made your toes curl. 

You were going to sleep so fucking good. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, holy fuck— “

Your stomach was in tight knots as her skin slapped against yours. 

“Can’t think with this dick inside you? Huh?” She sounded so cocky with every sneer she sent you, your eyes shut tightly. It’s right there, right there right there—

“This is all you want from me? Need me t’take care of this nasty fucking cunt?” She spat at you. 

You hated it when she said things like that aloud, when she made your indifference towards her known; It crushed your heart, but how could you express your grievances when she was this deep in your guts? You were awful and selfish, and she didn’t deserve to be used like this, but you needed it. Needed her to do this for you. It made you feel sane, every thought in your head silenced and replaced with her her her—

You babbled nonsense warnings of how hard you were about to cum, and you felt her large hand clutch your throat. You wheezed out begs, pleading her to keep fucking you there, make you cry. Please, please, please, I need to sleep, Abby, please!

“Shhh, I gotchu, baby. Such a good girl.” 

Your orgasm shocked you and her. You couldn’t hold back the scream you let out when your eyes shut, —even with her choking you out—your brain rattling in your head as your body attempted to jerk away from the intense pleasure she gave you. 

But she held your legs down, keeping you still as she fucked you through it. You heard her moaning over your sobs and keens, only making out so fuckin’ hot and gonna make me cum so fucking good, and it threw you right into another orgasm. 

Your walls squeezed around her with such constriction that she could barely move, but she managed to pull out and you almost cried at the emptiness, your orgasm slowly dying. She grabbed your hips and eased you higher up the bed before climbing up, pressing against and looming over you. 

She hooked your knees into the crevice of her elbow, popping her tip into you with no hands, slowly pushing in so you could feel her. The details of her dick were catching on your walls and the feeling was making you tear up. She eventually sat fully inside you, grinding her entire length in so her tip nudged your spot, and you were about to fucking cum—

You were completely limp under her, relishing the kisses and sucks she gave your neck. She slid out slowly until just her tip was in you before dropping her hips, fucking her cock back into you. You thought you screamed but no noise left you as she pounded your cunt. She was hitting you so good, rotating between moving with her dick fully lodged in your guts and thrusting as pretty moans filled your ear. 

You came so fucking hard, only having strength to pull at her sheets and sob, squealing her name and trembling as she sent you to space. She was somehow louder than you were, and you knew she was cumming. You had no energy to move, to stop her, to do anything. You just laid there and took what she gave as your body melted into the memory foam, relaxing completely as she rode out her pleasure inside you. 

Your walls were still contracting around her dick, hugging like they never wanted her to leave, wanted to cling onto her forever. Her movements eventually came to a stop as she whined in satisfaction into your neck. She plopped against you, your sweaty, heaving chests pressed together. 

The last thing you remember before knocking out was her soft kisses on your skin. 

You woke up to blinding sunshine. You forgot to shut the fucking blinds again. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, shoving your face into the plush pillow under you. You inhaled deeply and immediately stiffened. 

Flowers. Fucking flowers, what the fuck—

You never left Abby’s last night. 

You quickly sat up as your head rushed, looking over to see the vacant, mussed spot on her bed. You could hear the shower running and quiet hums coming from the master bathroom, and it made your heart race. 

You threw the covers off you and stood quickly, walking over to where your clothes were neatly folded on her dresser. You saw the remaining strands of your bra balled up near her mirror. You hated how your pussy clenched.

You grabbed your clothes and dressed in urgency, nearly tripping over your stubborn pant leg. 

The clattering of your phone falling from your pocket shook you. You bent down to grab it, the bright screen reading 12:34 and showing six missed calls from your parents. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

The running water shut off and you tensed. 

You shoved your phone in your back pocket as your flight senses tingled. You would feel awful if you left her place without warning, and she would probably never talk to you again if you did. You were guarded around her enough as it is, and the last thing you were going to do was embarrass her further. 

You stood by the dresser, awkwardly playing with your fingers until the bathroom door opened.

A dripping Abby walked out, clad in a towel, her wet hair wrapped in another as steam left the bathroom. 

She shut the door gently before turning to face you. She looked bright, but it dimmed when she took in your frazzled appearance. You needed to leave. Now, now, now—

“H-Hey, um… are you leaving?” 

You nodded stiffly, voice monotone, “Yeah. I didn’t wanna leave without telling you, though.” 

Her hand on the doorknob dropped to her side as she sighed in exasperation. She scoffed, “That’s surprising. I thought you would’ve taken any opportunity to leave.”

Your eyes squinted at her suddenly snarky tone. You two never argued: there may be tension or words left unsaid after you leave her, but you never fought about your relationship, “What the hell are you talking about?” 

She looked at you in shock, “Really? You’ve been acting like being around me is a chore this entire time! We… We don’t even speak— “

“What is there to talk about?” Your voice rose to match hers, your arms flailing around. “We both know what we agreed to when we started this!”

“I know we did! But you…” she looked so hurt and her voice was cracking, and it was making you uncomfortable. “You just treat me like I’m— “

You didn’t want to hear this anymore. You interrupted her harshly, “I'm not treating you like anything! We’re behaving exactly how we’re supposed to be! If anyone were to find out about what we’re doing, we’re fucked! That’s… that’s just how it is now!” 

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and sniffled. She nodded and looked down at her bare feet before meeting your eyes again. Hers were teary, and it sent a painful jolt from your chest to your head, your heart filling with remorse. You needed to lay the fuck down. 

Her voice shook as she spoke, but it was stern. 

“Fine. You… you can let yourself out.” 

Your shoulders dropped and your tone softened, “Abby— “

She shook her head, hers spiteful. “You know where the key is. Enjoy the rest of your day.” 

You couldn’t get your apologies out before she pried the bathroom door open, walking inside and slamming it shut behind her. You flinched as it echoed in your skull. 

The ringing of your phone blared through her four walls. You resigned, leaving her bedroom and gently shutting the door. You walked over to her staircase, pulling your device out to answer your mother’s call. 

“Hey,” You leaned against the stair railing, trying to ignore Abby’s quiet sobs coming from her room. Your eyes shut, guiltily picking at the skin on your lip. 

Your mom’s angered tone blasted through the speakers, “What the hell do you mean hey! Where have you been!” 

You descended the stairs, sighing when you reached the bottom, “I… was at my friend's house! We got caught up, my bad.” 

“Yeah, well, when you get caught up, you better tell m— “ 

Your mom’s voice was suddenly cut off by your father’s distant laughter. You heard her shout gimme my phone before your dad’s cheery tone rang through the line. 

“Heyyy, sweetheart. Ignore your mom, when are you comin’ home?” 

You couldn’t help the tears that jerked in your eyes at his voice. 

What the fuck were you doing. 

You cleared your throat before speaking, “I’m, uh… I’m leaving my friend's place now. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay, baby! Take your time,” You heard your mom yell out don’t tell her that!

“I love y’all,” You did, you loved them so much. 

“We love you so much more. Drive safe,” You heard your mom’s shout and your father’s laughter, and more tears jerked in your eyes. 

When the line went dead, you propped yourself over the back of Abby’s couch and cried in silence. You tried to keep your small breakdown short; You still had so much editing to do for your thesis. But you couldn’t stop your flowing tears. 

The drops slid down your face and onto her soft lounge pillows. You never cared enough to inspect her living space since she invited you in the first time, but you couldn’t help your wandering eyes as you digested her living room. The area was quaint and serene: there was a small fountain propped on a small table in the corner of the room, crème and black walls littered with framed artwork, decorative tables holding vases filled with fresh roses, her coffee table that still held the half filled, rose-littered mug with a tea bag string hanging out of it, her reading glasses. A framed photo of a smiling Abby carrying her just as happy baby girl on her back in front of a lake. 

And a marked book titled Working Through Grief right next to it. 

It forced a loud sob out of you, your hand flying over your mouth to hush any noise you might’ve made.

You fucked up. You fucked up so bad, and you still had the audacity to be in her safe space. You needed to go; you couldn’t fucking breathe. 

You snatched your purse off the couch and booked it for the front door, almost forgetting to retrieve the key to lock it behind you. You secured it and hid the key in its designated spot before rushing across the street to your car. 

You grabbed your keys from your purse and unlocked it, pulling the driver's door open before flinging yourself inside. You slammed the door and your heavy head dropped onto the steering wheel. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm the nausea that hit you out of nowhere. Sobs wracked through you as you shook in your seat. 

You were so fucking selfish. 

daaaamn wassup y’all 

writers block tried to get me omg y’all seen that shit😳😳 I FOUGHT BACK THO 

taglist y’all know wassup omg love y’all @saturnsellie @ohlawdthebirds @fibrogirlie @unangelic-thoughts @chrry1ovr @uraesthete @gravygranules @digit4lslut @machetegirl109 @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @macaroni676 @sillygooselit

kissies mwwwwAHHHHH

prologue. part one. part three. interlude. part four.

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[geminimoonbeamx]

Friday I’m In Love

A/N: So jokes on me because I didn't expect to love Eddie Munson this much. @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ told me he was going to be the it girl of this season and I said absolutely not. 

Warnings: Smut, lots of it. Drug use. Judgemental teenage girls

Parings: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Eddie invites you to his show, and holy shit. You show up. 

“Remind me why the hell were here again?” 

You’d never been to The Hideout, a shitty hole in the wall off the highway outside of  town. You’ve driven by it like, a thousand times and never once had the urge to go inside. Now, as you stand next to your friend, Shelly’s, mom’s Subaru in the half empty parking lot your nerves are going haywire, over eager to walk through the doors. 

“Because, we were invited”  you answer simply. Duh. Sweeping more glittery lip gloss on and fluffing your hair before adding “plus it’s not like we had anything else to do” 

“We could literally be doing anything else then this- isn't Clair throwing a party tonight?” 

“Yeah, but all her parties are always like, major depressing. Ever since Heather you know”-you  make a gurgling choking sound and cross your eyes “Its like, why do we have to do a toast to the dead girl, every party. I get once- but it feels redundant” 

You get it. Claire and Heather were best friends. You’re also not in the mood to go hold her hand while she cries about it. Again. 

Also, Heather had put gum in your third grade. So- 

“For one- you're a horrible person” Shelly accuses, shaking her overly curly head “For two, we could’ve gone to the movies or something” 

“You think the theaters boring, plus like. Won't it be fun to try something new? Come on” you grab her hand and pull her along behind you. Sparing one last glace at the familiar van, parked idle towards the front of the lot. 

“So like, this has nothing to do with you and weirdo Munson, right?” 

“Right- and its funny the way that you only think he’s weird after he sells you weed. Asshole” 

Well- its not like you we’re expecting anything fancy from the Hideout. No expectations, no disappointment, right? The bar is the textbook definition of a dive.The lingering smell of stale beer hits you straight in the face as you walk in. Seedy lighting that makes everything look shadowy and almost green-

“Oh look! They have pool tables!” you point out because that could be fun. Maybe?

“Oh great” She replies, voice fasle sugar sweet before dropping “I want to leave” 

“Shh” you elbow her, hard. “We just got here. Play nice” 

And she does, for the most part. Sit down at one of the sticky tables with you. Avoids the looks of the bar's patrons- older. Wasted. White trash, for sure. You wouldn't talk to them, not ever but like. Whatever. You can just ignore them. That’s easy enough. 

Especially when they get on stage. The Dark Wizards, Eddie at the lead. Even though he's not singing, even though he’s off to the side with that bright cherry red guitar of his. He’s the star. 

“We’re the Dark Wizards, and we’re about to rock your mortal world” 

You don't know when this…thing you had for Eddie developed. Somewhere between smoke laced conversations and late nights glued to your phone, him fighting the shitty static of his own line to talk until one of you called uncle, the thing had taken a life of its own. 

He’s odd. Yeah. But no other guy has ever been this nice to you. Eddies odd, but he’s not cruel. He’s not like the asshole jocks or elitist math nerds. He’s not even like the rest of his leather clad D&D playing posse. 

You wish you could get everyone else to see that. Get your friends to see that. 

The singer is trash, the drummer can't keep a beat to save his life, but the guitar riffs are melodic. Smooth and sharp, and your heart catches the tune and beats in time. Blood flow slowing and stopping until your all but hypnotized. 

You clap and cheer and cant manage to tear your eyes away until the final note plays, their set is over-

“Oh my god, you're so into him” the statement is disgusted, mostly. Fascinated. Your friend looks at you like she's watching a car crash- violent and bloody, but she can't take her eyes off of it. 

You just shrug because like. Yeah. Obviously.

“Oh fuck no” she groans, face palming hard. 

Eddie hurries out from behind the stage, which is really just their supply room. Grinning from ear to ear, beaming arms spread out wide. “Look who came!” 

“You invited me, I told you I’d come” You try to contain it, but you're giddy. Even more so when he throws a gangly arm around your shoulder. “It’s no biggie” 

“No biggie? You came all the way out here to see little ol me. Huge biggie, my friend. Huge” He holds his heart with his other hand dramatically- 

Always so dramatic. Always so enamoring. 

“You deserve a drink. A real one, what is this?” He dips his pinky into your friend's drink and her nose scrunches up something fierce and offended “Sprite? Nah, that's a peasant drink. Bartender kind sir- pour us something strong. And…fruity” 

The bartender, who looks like an Ex-con, actually makes a mean Mojito. 

------------

“It’s totes okay, I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?” 

You're in the parking lot, again. Except for you're not leaving in the car that you came in. 

Shelly’s tucked into the Subaru, staring out at you with all knowing eyes. 

He’s just going to drop me off at home. 

Uh Huh. 

Seriously. 

“Yeah whatever you better call me later- I want all the dirty details. Use protection- bye” she waves before her tires screech, hauling ass away from the Hideout. You flip her the bird all the way. 

“Okay let's blow this popsicle stand” you plop into the passenger side of the beat up old van, bouncing along as you go. Glad for the low cut blouse you’d donned because Eddie's eyes follow your chest, comically, animatedly. Up and down. 

“Whatever you say, mi’lady. Your house?”

“I mean- I don't have a curfew or anything on the weekend- we could go somewhere else. If you want to?”

Eddie looks pensive, lips pursed, before a light bulb goes off in his head. 

“Want to go to the end of the earth with me?” He questions as he reverses, and well. How can you say no to that offer? 

-----

The cliffs of Sattlers Quarry are jagged and high. Eddie parks too close to the edge- takes you out. Holds your hand tight as you screech, not being able to look over for more than a second. 

“Its okay,” Eddie chuckles, herding you into the open back of the van. “I come here all the time, were all good Y/L/N.”  

The seats are ripped out, posters of dragons and bare tittied ladies plastered on the metal walls. Black Sabbath plays lowly from the crappy speakers and he lays an armful of threadbare blanket down for cushioning, for the two of you to curl up on. 

You cling to him just to do it. Keep close as he rolls the cleanest joint you’ve ever seen. Spark and smoke and laugh- all attached to hip. He talks about Tolkien as fluidly as he does Karl Marx, he likes pineapple on pizza and was born the day before Valentines. Cats are superior to dogs, and he like lives off of peanut butter crunch cereal. 

His dad split when he was in eight grade and living with his Uncles not so bad, really. It’s kind of like rooming with a chill homie, but definitely nothing like having a real parent. 

“I'm boring you aren't I? Just tell me to stop, and I’ll zip my lips. Locked. Key is thrown, right off that cliff” He makes the motions, zip. Key, tossed and you lean your face into his jean clad shoulder. 

“Mmm, no. I like listening to you talk” its not a lie, not the usual shit you blow up guys ass. Everything out of Eddie’s mouth is unexpected, he tells stories with words. Vivid pictures, film on a loop. With your lungs burning and THC running through your system it's even better. 

“I like you. In general” Eddie whispers, and you hide your face even more. He shrugs you away though, turning. Face to face, no way to run from his dark eyes “I like your eyes” he leans in, and you think finally he’s gong to kiss you. Instead he gets close enough. Blinks fluttery fast, his lashes against yours. Butterfly kisses

You shake your head, cheeks burning, chest tight. 

“And your hair? I really like that- even if it is better than mine which is rude. And don't even get me started on your perfume because that? That’s my favorite. And your-” 

You slap a hand over his mouth pushing until he gives way. Until your on top thick thighs caging his waist “Stop it, jeeze I lied. I hate your voice, shuddap!” 

He makes a few muffled attempts, squirming a bit before giving up.  Going lax, bringing his hands behind his head and looking at you with dark eyes that shine and sparkle. He's enjoying this, and the long languid lick he gives to your hand shouldn't feel as good as it does. 

You like Eddie, like the way he feels. You like the way he lets you be who you want to be, do what you want to do. Other guys would’ve thrown you off, too heavy. Too dominant. They didnt want to play, but Eddie. Eddie’s wanted to play with you since you hit that doobie behind the gym. 

You unbutton your blouse slowly, letting him watch you. He can have it. All of it. Everything. You unhook your bra and those dark eyes go wide. 

“This okay?” you ask, taking your hand off of his mouth, resting on his shoulder. 

He nods, quick, adam's apple bobbing “Are you even asking me that right now? Yes, fuck yes I am a-okay. The best, really-” 

The kiss you cut him off with is messy, too much tongue. Too much want. Why had you wanted this long? Maybe it should’ve have been more romantic- but then again maybe it is? It’s own version of romance, its own courting and dating and being cared for. 

Eddies hands are everywhere, eager and exploring and its almost funny until he thumb brushes over your nipple, just on the right side of rough, making you  gasp sharp into his mouth, and grind down onto his hard lap in tight circles. Eddie pulls away, just barley. Dragging his slick mouth acros your jaw, down your chest, your hands fist tight his hair as he runs the flat of his tongue along the nub. 

It feels too good, mind numbing. Base instinct, two teenagers and in a fogged up car. Breathing eachothers air, tasting each other spit. Fumbly and needy, too fast. 

Struggling out of your clothes, you wiggle out of your tight acid washed jeans as Eddie shed’s layer after layer- Hell Fire Club Tee, Leather Jacket, Denim vest. The floor of his van littered. You’re tugging on your pink panties when he blankets himself over you, pushing you back down. The blankets rough on your bare skin. 

Eddie’s a weirdo, not a virgin. And most importantly, he’s good with his hands. The long ring donned fingers work magic. The real life kind that gets your back arching and has sounds that would embarrass you to think about later clawing their way from your throat. Feels almost too good as he rests his forehead against yours, noses bumping as he pounds his fingers in and out of you. 

He likes it, watching you squirm, watching your hips shift every time he tries to pull his hand away. 

He keeps condoms in the glove box, mostly for show. Hope. The off chance that some girl gives him a chance and wants to hook up- once in a blue moon shit. He’s glad for them now, even if it means pulling away from a whining writhing you

When he slides back between your thighs it's a heady feeling. He’s almost vibrating, shaking out of his skin, nervous excitement making him clumsy. He  misses. Doesnt slide into you easily, the two of you shifting and giggling, gasping and nosing at one and other until. 

Oh. 

There. 

The inhale you take is shaky and sharp and Eddie groans and buries his head in your neck. Breathing in your sweet perfume as his hips begin to pump. 

“O-oh my god. Eddie-” You stutter, holding on to his shoulders. He’s not the thickest guy you’ve been with, but his dicks long. Longer then average forsure. Jabbing at that place inside you, pleasure pain bursting behind your eyelids and you cling to his shoulders. There's no real pace, not from the nineteen year old, but the friction of sweaty bodies feels good, the rocking rhythmic and almost peaceful as you stare up at the van’s ceiling. You like it, the way he moans, the way he tells you how it feels- he really doesn't ever shut up. 

Its quick, you’re young and Eddie’s never been with anyone who feels so tight. You can tell when he’s close, when he speeds up to nothing more then a dirty, desperate grind. When his whole body goes taught and his arms tighten around your waist, holding onto you as he rides it out. As he shakes and shudders, needing the grounding. You hold him in the cradle of your thighs. 

He pulls out with a hiss and slumps, heavy and boneless on to you and you stroke his back, trail your fingers across his shoulders soothingly. It felt good the minutes that go by in overexerted bliss. It wasnt like you weren't used to not getting yours. Guys just had a one track mind, right? No big deal, you’ll handle it when you get home- 

Eddie's head perks up from your chest. Almost like he could read your mind, Isnt that one of his D&D elf powers or whatever?

His animated, recovered enough to have regained that mischievous look. He waggles his tongue, vulgar and pushing corny

 “Your turn, mi’lady”

[searchingforplanes]

All that I do is wait for you.

Notes: I’m a feminist but not when it comes to Matty Healy, clearly. On a more serious note, I wanted to participate in the tag cleanse so, here it is! 

P.s. It’s very loosely inspired by 'Batphone' by Arctic Monkeys and 'Wives and lovers' by Jack Jones bc they’ve been on repeat lately

TW: MDNI!, typos (english is not my first language), traditional gender roles/stay at home girlfriend brain rot, religious themes (I don't even know how that happened), smut 

WC: 1.9k 

You wait in silence on the rug of the living room, your back to the couch, your knees drawn up against your chest. Everything about this moment feels appropriate, normal, even comfortable, from the stiffness of your now cold limbs to the slight smell of smoke and ashes coming from the wood stove in the corner, the only light source that you allowed yourself to keep on.

It suits you, an almost hermit-like situation, silence as your only companion in a never ending wait for salvation. 

He had called you several hours prior from an airport located in a warmer country, telling you he was on his way. You knew it. Of course you knew it. You didn't talk much during touring days but you religiously kept track of his schedule, every stop carefully listed by him on a piece of paper now attached with an apple-shaped magnet on the refrigerator door. Little boxes accompanied each one of them for you to cross; today, the last little square was ticked off.

You recall the first time you had to welcome him home after such a long time. You had felt lost. Did he need anything? A ride from the airport, a warm meal, a new set of lingerie to rip off of you? You had pondered his return so much that your mind had started to suggest you had chosen a life that couldn't belong to you. Sooner or later, you had thought, he would have realized your inadequacy to fill the spot beside him at dinners or at the pub, to fill his house, to fill the rest of his life with, maybe even his grave in the family chapel up north. Concerns, heavy like lead, had crowded your head to the point you felt the ground underneath you flex under the weight. 

First times are often embarrassing, sweet or clumsy, but the first time he had returned home to you it just felt… wrong, like you couldn’t provide him with an appropriate welcome. The echo of his footsteps around the house had felt chastising and more similar to the sound of whip to the one of your lover's return. 

You had spoken to him about it some time later, explaining the lack of purpose you felt laying there, waiting for him to rescue you instead of welcoming him, and he, of course, had told you not to worry, and that 'he wasn't a soldier, he was just doing his job like a normal human being'.

While you trusted him, you realized that the former suggestion resonated with you in a way that you couldn't quite comprehend at first. Maybe it was distasteful to think about his absence that way, considering that greed and gluttony would be the only real threats to his well being while on tour, but the lack of him made you feel like a military widow nonetheless. In a way, you were sharing him with an entire nation, multiple ones even, all waiting for him to offer guidance to his community. The parallel probably didn't make any sense, but it gave you a purpose.

That's why a cherry tart was in the fridge, Nick Drake was softly singing from the record player and you were now sitting facing the windows with wet hair and red lipstick on, waiting for him to turn up. A silly little routine maybe, but comforting, something that generations of awaiting women before you probably had done, the anxiety of being nice and put together for the man you love.

Suddenly your train of thought is cut off at the shower of light that fills the room. It's a sudden flash, the rays filtering through the blinds and painting your face striped before the glow of his low beams curves slightly and then dies on the driveway, replaced by a quick splash of orange. 

You could recognize it anywhere.

It's like experiencing the beginning of the universe, like discovering that life exists outside these four walls, a big bang happening just outside the windows, giving you a world to finally live in. You slowly get up, counting down the twenty seconds it will take for your Adam to reach his garden of Eden. 

His silhouette finally fills the glass door frame, standing straight to watch yours behind the frosted barrier. He pushes the handle and finally he’s in front of you, the first man to ever exist. It’s routine now, his hand coming behind your back to push you towards him and then coming to your waist, grabbing at the fabric of your white nightgown and crinkling it with his tan fingers, the other hand still on the handle, his lips coming down to leave a butterfly-weighted kiss at the corner of your upper lip, the gesture so delicate it could have been the night breeze. 

Soon you’re in bed, the white cotton covering you giving the appearance of innocence, contrasting widely with the man kneeled at the foot of the mattress. He looks like sex personified. He has discarded his shirt on his way to the bedroom, following the flowy nightgown up the stairs, and he is now unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other keeping your foot in place, caressing the ankle with his middle finger. Without the support of the leather strip his dress pants fall just a little lower on his hips, gracing you with the spectacle of his ‘v’ shaped abdomen and his rose tattoo. You don’t dare move just yet, enjoying the way he naturally takes the lead. He unbuttons his slacks, standing up to undress himself completely, half-lidded eyes never leaving your figure. He then crawls over, lifting the nightgown just above your belly button, littering your stomach with small, wet kisses, lingering on your pelvis before crashing his tongue flat against your cunt. He caresses your thighs while he eats you out, slowly lifting your legs to circle his head with, clamping around his ears, the tips of his fingers barely grazing upon the skin, agonizingly ticklish. He slowly trails two of his fingers down and into you, curling into your sweet spot with surgical precision while his lips suck on your clit with unrelenting eagerness. You are panting furiously, swears cascading off your lips with ease and mixing with pleads of his name but he suddenly stops, raising his head just enough so that his breath is still teasing your core.

‘You need you to be a little bit louder princess, I can’t hear your sweet moans with the way you’re crushing my skull’ 

You desperately nod, anything to have him back there and, just as a little aid, you slide your legs down to his throat, choking him slightly and eliciting a deep groan out of him. He instantly resumes with flickers of his tongue, making sure to maintain eye contact with you while you reach your high again. You cross your ankles on his back,tightening the grip around him and cutting his blood flow just a tad more; he takes the hint, increasing the rhythm of his fingers until you’re cumming on his face, completely enveloping him for good with your limbs, his name reverberating in the air like a sinful litany. 

He climbs your body in a couple of swift moves and now you’re face to face, his wet, swollen lips brushing yours, his breath hot against your cheeks. He looks quite a state. Unruly curls, sunken cheekbones, a rosy flush across his neck.

‘Welcome back, baby’

He chuckles darkly, his erection twitching against your thigh, pressing into your flesh through his boxer in search of relief. You slide your hand across his chest, almost feeling his ribs. You’d love to tear him apart just to count them, just to make sure that you haven’t dreamt it: there’s a missing one. God, if he exists, made you out of it, out of him. Maybe that’s why you’re always trying to be as close as possible to one another.

He does just so, after peeling the last piece of clothing off himself, sliding inside of you like he hadn’t left in the first place. He starts moving slowly, standing a little straighter to watch you squirm and whine.

‘What’s wrong baby? Do you want me to stop?’ He coos. He knows exactly what you want, the condescending tone not helping your situation. 

‘Need- need to feel you better’

‘Is that so, princess? Did I make you too wet? Let you make it up to you, yeah?’

He finally undresses you completely, crumpling the nightgown in his hands, bottoming out completely and wiping your cunt, the friction causing a small moan out of you. 

When he finally thrusts into you again, the burn is so delicious you can feel your eyes roll into your skull.

‘Is that better baby? You’re such a dirty fuck doll, so eager for this dick that you want it to feel it split you open’

You choke out a broken moan, fire licking up your limbs and feeding the warm feeling in your lower stomach.

‘Answer me princess, don’t be shy’

‘Y-Yeah I am Matty, fuck’

His thrusts get faster as a way to reward you, the effort making his smirk fade in favour of a much more fucked out expression. He’s on the edge as much as you. You can feel the pleasure reaching an impossible level of tightness in your stomach and you grab his forearm with your hand  in anticipation, fingernails planting into his tattoos. 

‘Keep looking at me when you cum on my cock kitten’ 

Matty’s request sounds more like an order you can barely follow when your orgasm actually hits you, eyelids fluttering and hands scratching his tense back, your legs twitching like a shock wave had just hit you. Matty does his best to ground you, his hands keeping your hips glued to the mattress while he keeps fucking into you. 

‘Matty you can’t anymore, ‘m too overstimulated’

He coos at you, sweetly condescending, your whispered pleas almost amusing him.

‘Yes you can, baby. Just a bit more, okay? I’ll cum with you, promise’

You nod your head the best you can, feeling the tension starting to rise again when he starts to gently rub at your clit with his thumb, leaning to cover your cheeks with small kisses that contrast with his frantic thrusts.

‘Where do you want me, princess?’

It’s a rhetorical question, you both know it, but you don’t seem to be able to answer him. Even with your mouth agape, air isn’t filling your lungs, and you can only trust him to understand you when you trail a hand down to your lower stomach, resting it on the spot where you can feel the head of his cock hitting. 

He smirks down at you, his expression scrunching up a second later when he feels you clenching around him. 

‘I’ll fill you up good, kitten, don’t worry about it, you just have to let go. Wanna feel you milking my cock for what it’s worth’ 

His words finally make you crumble a second time, tears brimming your eyes while he fucks you through your orgasm until he is on the brink too, admiring your fucked out expression before releasing inside of you. 

He rolls off of you, his arms coming to cradle your head while you try to regain your breathing rhythm. 

‘I’m never gonna leave again’

You chuckle and slap his heaving chest.

‘You will, but I’ll wait for you. All that I do is wait for you.’

[riaki]

— last train at 25 o' clock | suguru geto x reader fluff(???)/light angst @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat please take this bc coffee shop geto is gonna take a bit

it's 1am in the morning, the train platform's a ghost town, and the hum of the vending machine is all the noise in the world as you and suguru wait for the last ride home after a mission.

wc : 2.6k cw : brief mentions of blood ; references to hidden inventory arc , shoko typical smoking , probably some other stuff i'm forgettin not proofread!!!! also he may be ooc srry

i cooked this up last minute cus i remembered my promise of posting every weekend last week so my bad if u can tell its rushed lol post hidden inventory pre defection

suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.

the song of summer insects reaches your ear as you clamber up to the train station platform; a pandemonium of cicadas and crickets that sing odes to the full moon in the sky partially curtained by dark clouds and the dew on the grass that's begun to form.

"damn, it's hot." you muttered, wiping your forehead as your arm shot out to grab the dirty railing, white paint cracked and peeled as a splinter pricks your fingers and you flinch. suguru follows after you; a small hum is your acknowledgment.

"careful. shoko doesn't like dealing with splinters," he says from behind you, stepping up the stairs two at a time to straighten up on the train platform, hands in his pockets. “i don’t have reversed curse technique healing either.” there's the smell of a storm in the air, and the lights overhead buzz and flicker with the intermittent beat of a moth's wings. you just give a dip of your head in acknowledgement as you pry your hand away from the railing, the scent of old wood lingering on your hand as you wipe off the dust clinging to your palm on your pants.

(geez, you two have no sense for these types of things.)

suguru holds a hand out, and you take it eagerly to let him pull you up the last step, before politely letting go and slipping it back into his pocket once more. you let out an exhausted sigh and stand up, rubbing your tired eyes as you look around.

the platform is deserted save for the stray cat beneath the station bench, sniffing at a clump of weeds growing from the metal leg. there's a vending machine up against the wall to the elevator, an obnoxious painted 'out of order' sign on the lift's muddy glass doors, stained with dust, dirt, and fingerprints. there's some... creative graffiti on the wall, and a starch yellow section of caution tape flutters in the humid evening wind.

the cat scratches at the concrete floor, and its matted white fur and crystal blue eyes remind you of someone. you glance up at suguru, poking his arm to get his attention.

"look. it's satoru." you huffed, still a little loose for breath as you reach out and grab his shoulder, leaning against him for support. the dark-haired boy just laughs a little, taking his phone out to snap a picture and no doubt send it to the white-haired brat. "i see it." he leans a little closer to you; it's subtle, and you don't notice it, but the way his shoulders sag just so you have an easier time holding on speaks volumes. "don't send it to him! he's probably asleep right now. think it's past his evening sugar high?" you asked, glancing up at him with a tilt of your head.

"most likely. i think he got sent on another solo mission today." there's a tiny bitter bite to suguru's voice that underlines its usual velvetiness; like an ocean current beneath the waves that you only find once you've been dragged underwater. you don't say anything about it, though. the sleeves of his uniform crumple beneath your fingers when they curl into the fabric, a shiver running down your spine as goosebumps spring up on your skin like shroom caps after the summer rain.

suguru is observant.

"you cold? you can have my jacket." it's immediate, and his voice is as smooth as cream silk and marble as he shrugs your hand off (much to your dismay-- shown with a bite to your cheek) to unbutton his uniform jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and offering it to you. when you stand there, feeling a little daze and a lot tired, he just smiles, shoving it in your face with a low chuckle that sounds like honey pouring from a jar.

"you sure? you can hug a cursed spirit if you get cold, 'cus you're not getting it back." you sighed after a moment, reluctantly taking his jacket and tugging it over your shoulders. it's warm, and it smells like his cologne- like some natural incense that soothes your nerves and loosens your body to the marrow in your weary bones. you bury your nose in it and forget to think about the warm hue on your cheeks that you'll later chalk up to the humid air.

"i'm sure." the cat by the bench perks up, staring directly in your direction. it yawns, before bounding away, disappearing behind the vending machine with a flick of its cloud white tail. the machine is missing a few rows of drinks, but the green of a melon soda can that's far too saturated to have a name to the original fruit and the cream and red of a yakult bottle are enough to catch your eyes beneath the harsh light of the display.

"still don't understand how you get cold on a night like this, though." he makes a gesture towards 'this' with one hand, fingers flexing in a way that makes your heart flutter unreasonably.

a moment of silence passes; you can see the distant lights of some prefecture over the hill, and your mind briefly wanders to rainy afternoons, puddles reflecting the red neon of passing cars and distorted faces under plastic umbrellas sandwiched between painted concrete and a dark sky.

"you want a drink? on me, as thanks." you say, breaking the sound of silence and nodding towards the vending machine as you look up at suguru. it takes him a moment to respond, so you use the opportunity to admire his profile; the slope of his nose, the deep hazel of his eyes that shine a copper rust beneath the pale yellow light overhead. his hair is a little messy; it's falling out of its slicked back bun, a product of your earlier fight. there's a scrape on your ankle from tripping through the bush in an attempt to put distance between the curse when you had been engaged earlier; it still stings. there's a tightness to his jaw, you notice- and some part of you wishes you could take it for yourself.

the section of dark hair in front of his face sways as he turns to look down at you, gaze charting the corners of your face (your cheeks look soft, he notes) before he opens his mouth to speak.

one kick to the machine, a disappointed frown when nothing comes out, and two yen bills later, the pop of can tabs fills your ears as condensation seeps into your skin, a pleasant relief from the heaviness of the summer air. it's too much when the cold side of a drink is pressed to your cheek, though-- and you let out a yelp of protest, shooting a quick glare up at suguru, who just laughs it off and takes a sip of his drink.

you down a sip of your own; it's a sweet fruit tea that's your go to whenever it's hot out. sweet, citrusy, like starfruit. it tastes like a summer of youth and a warm blue spring. it's pleasant.

a distant rumble echoes from the dark horizon, and both of your gazes simultaneously snap towards it-- at last, you think. the last train is here. you adjust suguru's jacket around your shoulders, catching a whiff of something that smells like rosemary and new leather as his voice fills your ears.

it's an easy night when you pass the threshold and step into the train car, speckled white floors and blue hard seats greeting you. somewhere, there's a ticket stuffed into one of your pockets; a memento of late evenings that blend into early mornings when there's a bruise on your face and a knick on suguru's wrist that soothe themselves with the harmony of small talk and sensation of fizzling bubbles in cold metal cans as the train jostles you along. you're sitting, and he's standing, one arm on the hangers overhead as you talk about everything and nothing. he catches himself every now and then, watching with minimal interest as the sliding doors part themselves like gateways to the afterlife for ghost passengers. it's not your stop yet; far from it.

"say, suguru-- do you miss going on missions with satoru?" you asked after a moment, fingers drumming against your knees as the automated voice overhead announces the next stop, empty farm plots and tangles of wire passing by as the lights inside cozy houses dim and go off.

he doesn't answer that, so you just look out the window.

(suguru, you gettin' enough sleep? heatstroke?)

"how's the cut on your leg?" he finally murmurs after a moment, his eyelids heavy before he tears his gaze away from a tacky advertising on the wall and back to your scrunched nose.

"annoying." you just sighed, and you watched as he gave a small smile; his eyes fluttering shut, long lashes resting against his cheeks. you wondered if the wings of a butterfly would be heavy enough to weigh them down.

he moves after a second, sitting down one seat away from you in a swift motion and beckoning for you to lift your leg. you comply, not entirely sure where it's going- until he gently rolls the hem of your pant leg up, pressing the cold edge of his half-empty soda to the angry red scratch, and you wince a little before letting out one, long sigh. you melt into the chair, feeling like a senior citizen with a hunched back and one too many shrine visits under a bleached kyoto sun.

"thanks." you mumbled, leaning your head against the window as the train jostles ever so slightly to its own tracked rhythm.

he just hums in response, pulling a worn bandaid out of his pocket; the plastic top has pen smudges on it and the white wax gets caught between his pearly teeth as he tugs it off, taking time to make sure he positions the healing strip properly before flattening it down on your leg.

"shoko makes no sense when she talks about her reversed curse technique, so this'll do." he says quietly, and you let yourself fall into the pool of molasses that comes from his throat as you close your eyes, feeling the dull sensation of pain drain from your muscles and melt away like the first waves of spring and the ripple of lake water as a lone sakura petal disturbs the mirrored blue surface.

"i could learn it." you said after a moment, pressing your lips together in an attempt to snuff out the feeling of his fingers lingering on your skin, toying with the loose edge of the bandaid. he just snorts, and you crack one eye open to glare at him.

the rest of the train ride is spent in silence; you slip in and out of a hazy sleep, and you're faintly aware of the timeline-- somehow, your drink ends up on his lips. your head ends up on his shoulder, and your ears pick up his quickened heartbeat. his warmth is nothing like the humidity that clings to your skin like a layer of smoke and vapor, accompanied by sticky dango and raucous laughter weaving between the sounds of fireworks and the crunch of dirt beneath pairs of geta. he smells like home and his soft hair tickles your face as your little breaths squeeze past your parted lips, a warmth like bumping shoulders and linking fingers seeping into your body like the steady stream of fine sand in an hourglass. a warmth like empty classrooms lit by golden hour; windows cracked open to let in a fresh breeze as the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifts up to the room from the brunette and her lighter beneath the patch of shade from a tree in the courtyard below.

(need a light?)

this is how it's been for the past month. tired mumbles and hushed murmurs exchanged between two people who are more than friends but less than lovers after each harrowing mission; shared drinks and linked pinkies, the warmth that stains cheeks rosy when fingers that look small against calloused ones brush with another hand reaching for the metal pole on the train. heavy silence as you fall asleep on his shoulder; faint tingles when his fingers graze your knuckles as he stares at the dark reflection in the windows across. even the windows know how to make him relax.

one day, it'll be just him. a white bird stained black by apollo's hand in a sea of dirty geese, silent as the others hawk and squawk for a place on the lake. one hand hooked around the hard plastic of a hanger, supporting heavy shoulders with weight that could rival atlas' burden. a boy so tired of being beaten by the waves that he succumbs to the undercurrent with the same practice as before, only the paint on the railings has chipped past repair and not even the greenery of the countryside can touch the stains on the windows to his soul; eyes that used to shine with mirth and crinkle with gentle smiles become sunken and heavy with experience more suited to those a decade older.

he'd already chosen his path when he offered his jacket to you; when he laughed at the way you'd sneezed after investigating the patch of weed that had captured the stray cat's attention from before. and he knew that you'd noticed, and he knew that you'd try, and he knew that he wouldn't let you.

he knew when he woke you up with a gentle nudge to the forehead, suppressing the fluttering feeling in the heart he didn't know he still had when you made a grumpy tired face and stood up with much effort and a stumble or two.

(damn monkeys.)

it was easy nights like these that he'd eventually miss the most. walking you back to your dorm, past the candy wrappers and empty cola cans in the halls stained with imaginary blood and passing glances. departing with a kiss goodbye when he knew you were too drowsy and delirious to be able to remember it come morning.

the swing of a jazz rhythm would get stuck in his throat when you stumbled, only catching yourself from the jolt of the train's stop by latching a hand onto his wrist like some evil little lamprey and muttering a small 'sorry'. he'd laugh it off, collect the empty bottles of drinks of debt, and tug on the sleeve of his jacket on your arms, gently helping you off the platform as your pant leg slid back down to cover the bandaid on your leg, rough fabric scratching away the ghost of his touch on your skin. he wished it would just stay for a little longer.

and when the morning came and you woke up in your bed with his scent on the fabric of your shirt, you'd do it all over again. the only part of the terrible cycle he ever took pleasure in. even when the vile taste of a cursed spirit sunk into his stomach, it would be washed away with the right pop and fizzle of sugary drink followed by an even sweeter kiss to the knot between his tired eyes.

there was nothing about your time together he wouldn't ever miss.

you'd be his past, his present, and his afterlife. even when it was his turn to get off the ghost train and step past those sliding doors that held new meaning, you were the last thought on his mind.

one day, he hopes to see you again, when the last train comes in the night so late it could be considered early morning and the platform can relive old memories of peeling paint on a past summer spring once more.

hope u guys enjoyed the catoru cameo my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[wrathofrats]

Wrathhhhh, if you feed up to it/inspo strikes may be gets something where RainDrop takes Bug to bed for the first time?

I have fantastic news and 4k of me being weird.

Ao3 link

I got carried away raise your hand if you’re surprised.

4k of jealous dew, brat phantom and mean instigator rain.

It’s slightly toxic and dubious but they’re all having fun and enthusiastically want each other ok but just know it can read a bit dubcon until the middle.

Warnings for a bit of size shaming, degrading, dew acts like he hates phantom but he’s lying, dp, lots of fun weird jealousy, yeah idk what I was doing here

Phantom tried to focus on the plate in his hand. He dunked it back into the water, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the small speck of caked on food that simply wouldn’t come off. The water was a couple degrees too hot, leaving his skin red and uncomfortable. He could hear a mild chatter behind him through the sound of water sloshing and the abrasive sponge on the ceramic. No words to make out, but a more intense conversation at least.

Whatever ghouls' presence that was behind him was coming closer. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a nervous reaction or his sensitive quintessence acting up he never is quite sure, but the air around him starts to smell like salt water and smoke combined with the dish soap that covers his arms.

“Told you phantom would be in here” rain sing songs to a much more unsatisfied dew.

“And I’ll blow you about it later, can you just hurry up?”

Phantom drops the dish back in the sink, a problem for whoever found it next. He shakes the water and suds off his arms before turning to face the two in front of him. Rain seemed happy, a light neutral expression on his face. He tucks a piece of black hair behind his ear as he watches phantoms own body language. Dew however seemed less enthused to see him. His shoulders slump inwards towards rain, arms crossed in front of him. He’s not even looking at phantom, instead staring at his boyfriend like he’s about to drag him away himself.

“Dew and I have a proposition for you” rain starts, giving phantom a once over for any signs he may run. He’s still the anxious new bug they know, eyes full of something akin to fear and intimidation just from rain approaching him. It makes rain feel powerful in an awful way that he knows is greedy.

“Yeah of course” phantom only looks rain in the eyes, not bothering to look over at dew, an action neither of them have missed.

“We think you’re cute bug, we see the way you look at us” rain flicks dews hand as he rolls his eyes at the word cute, “wanted to come ask if you’d possibly like to join us tonight, wanted to know if you’d be our good boy”

“Are you sure?” Phantom asks. Phantom tries to study them. Is it a joke? Are they making fun of him? Rain keeps his friendly expression, dew resigning to stare at the floor instead.

“Very, I think we could have a lot of fun with you if you’d let us”

“Then I want to hear it from him”

Dew nearly growls, his eyes wide at the sentence. The simple but cocky tone having him want to abandon the situation and tell rain he told him so. Knew he was a shit head that didn’t know how to behave correctly.

If dew was being honest with himself he would be more than happy to spoil the little quint with rain if he acted as sweet as he seems. But an ungrateful brat? No one deserved his rain, especially such a greedy thing. It only makes it worse when rain cocks his eyebrows at him expectantly, cueing him to tell phantom what he wants to hear.

He’s more than baffled, even if he shouldn’t be. Rain wanted a challenge, and he was going to get one.

“I want you to join us phantom” dew mumbles.

A bright smile breaks out on phantoms face. Rain beckons him with a finger to follow them back up to his room.

Dew would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that his enthusiasm was a bit cute. Maybe he just wanted to be sure dew was ok with him joining. Maybe dew was wrong.

Phantom doesn’t hesitate to kneel on the bed once they walk into the room. Surely a known and practiced move, probably how Swiss makes him wait during their usual shenanigans. His hands sit crossed in his lap, his eyes focus only on rain to wait for his next instruction. Dew hopes he can be good, especially if he was this well trained already.

He pads over to card a hand through his hair, tugging at the black and white strands. Phantoms eyes close as he gasps and leans into the pressure on his scalp. He doesn’t try to pull away, even opens his eyes with a look that practically begs dew to pull harder.

“That’s a good boy, you gonna keep being good for us bug?” Dew asks, rubbing at his skin.

Phantom nods in return. His head stays nestled in dews palm, practically purring at the soft touch. It’s nice, much softer than either of them assumed the other would be.

“Oh, see dew? I knew he was a sweet boy.” Rain coos. It’s silent as he walks over to the bed, both ghouls watching for his next move, to tell them what to do. It’s an unconscious reaction in dew to immediately listen to rain, even if he’s supposed to also be in charge here. He knows he’s not, only allowed to have his fun as long as rain approves of it.

Rain stops in front of dew first, pulling him in for a small kiss. Nothing more than a peck on the lips. It’s short and sweet, rains hand lingers on dews neck for another second as he pulls away, staring at the fire ghoul with a loving smile.

He steps in front of phantom next. Another loving touch to the side of his face, something to hopefully calm whatever nerves the new ghoul has. It was supposed to be another chaste peck to the lips but before rain can stop him, phantom has his fists in his shirt, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens much farther past what rain had intended. Lips slotting together easily as phantom licks into rains mouth. Dew can’t help but watch in horror, he’s sure if phantom was any stronger he would’ve had rain in his lap with the way he’s pulling at him. The wet smacking sound from their lips makes dew ball his fists in the sheets to keep himself from forcefully dragging phantom out of rains grasp. It doesn’t help that phantom fucking groans as rain bites his lips.

Finally rain pulls back after what feels like an hour. A line of spit connects their lips and dew is certain phantom is fucking looking at him for a reaction. A horrible smug look on his face, purely waiting for dew to say or do something about the interaction that just transpired.

“That wasn’t very sweet of you bug, thought you knew better than to take more than you’re allowed” rain lightly chastises him.

“Sorry” phantom whispers, his head turned to dew just to catch his eye before turning back to rain “guess I just got excited”

Rain can’t help but smile. He can’t bring himself to punish phantom yet, especially since he looks apologetic, can’t fault him for wanting to kiss him so badly.

“It’s alright just can’t let you get spoiled now can we?”

Dew stares, baffled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Rain looks at him with a knowing smirk. Practically daring him to do something when they both know he won’t.

“You’re just going to let him get away with that?”

“He doesn’t know any better droplet, stupid thing just got desperate” rain practically purrs, turning back to phantom “didn’t you sweetheart?”

They all know the truth. Dew knows he knows better, rain knows he knows better, and phantom certainty knows, that they both know, that he knows better. But to dew it feels like phantom is truly testing his limits. He wants to see what will get both of them to break.

“And since when do desperate sluts get what they want?” Dew asks, also looking at phantom. Rain still has a hand on his cheek, making phantom nuzzle into his palm innocently.

“I certainly give you what you want dewdrop, even when you act like a jealous bitch. So why is this different?” Rain scolds, not even looking at him. “Dew likes to give me a challenge sometimes stardust, but you wouldn’t do that would you?”

“No sir”

Rain could just beam at the obedience. A pang of pride in his chest at how well phantom listens to him. It’s adorable honestly, how enthusiastic and compliant he is to rains words, not to mention the thick air of jealousy between him and dew. It all goes straight to his ego, only fueling him to be worse.

“You can’t let him think he can get away with shit. Honestly shouldn’t even be allowed to touch you since our play thing has forgotten its place” dew sneers.

“Didn’t think you were in charge here dewdrop” phantom taunts back.

“Excuse me? I have mo-“

“He’s right, you’re not in charge here darling and you know that” rain cuts dew off before he can finish his sentence. “Are you just jealous? Upset that phantom is getting more attention than you? Do you not trust me to take care of my angelfish?”

Rains tone is sickly sweet, daunting like the call of a siren. It has dew immediately quiet, listening to rains words as if his life depended on it. A part of the jealousy fades out of him, grateful for the way rain smiles when he looks at him.

“I do, just-“ dew attempts to stammer out an excuse.

“None of that then. Show phantom how sweet you can be to me”

Dew is on rain immediately. He easily rips his shirt off of him, discarding it next to the bed. His hands run down his lithe torso, hot kisses trailing behind them. Praising any inch of skin that rain will allow him to.

He runs his hands slowly down to rains sweatpants, giving a small look over to phantom who seems more flustered than he should be given the proposition. The quint can’t decide where to look, doesn’t want to look either ghoul in the eyes, doesn’t want to stare directly at rains tits, he settles for shifting his gaze wherever he can. From dews hands that grip rains waistband, to the floor, to rain looking down on dew hungrily, his arms now crossed in front of him, pushing his chest together. The slightest bit of cleavage that forms makes him want to drool.

“Want you to watch phantom, eyes over here starlight” rain whispers. Phantom swallows thickly, allowing his eyes to settle on dews hands.

Dew finally pulls at rains sweats, slowly revealing him to phantom. It’s a teasing pace, both ghouls watching to see his reaction. See how worked up they can get him without actually touching him.

The band finally stretches past the swell of his ass, loosening around his thighs, enough to drop to the floor. Rains skin is perfect, hairless, smooth, phantom thinks he may be drooling as he watches dew thumb over his hips with a possessive look on his face.

Phantoms breath hitches as rain bends over in front of him to kick off his pants completely. Still slow and teasing, as if he’s showing himself off. Rains completely exposed in this position, plump little ass practically in phantoms face, his cunt fully on display for phantom to gawk at. His folds are already slick and shiny with arousal. Phantom would do anything to taste him.

“Like what you see phantom?” Rain asks, standing back up to face him. He stands over him, looking down while phantom continues to stare at his chest.

“Fuck- “ phantom chokes “you’re so pretty”

“That all starlight?”

“Please rainy, let me worship you, let me play with your tits” phantom begs

And oh, that goes straight to rains head. The glassy eyed thing staring at him like he’s a marble statue, carved by the delicate hand of a master. It’s awful, he considers letting phantom touch him as he pleases until dew has his hands on his waist, pulling him back with a snarl.

“Absolutely not. Hands off”

“Dew” rain warns.

“You haven’t been good enough to touch him” dew growls again, staring phantom directly in the eye with a look that would be threatening to him if it was anyone besides dewdrop.

“And you’re still not in charge.” Rain scolds, tearing himself from dews grip. “Don’t be selfish, I gave you your attention. Didnt think it would make you so spoiled”

“But rainy” dew protests.

“Honestly I don’t think either of you have been good enough to touch me”

Dew and phantom look at each other in shock as rain moves to sit in the chair across from the bed. Thighs hiked up on the arm rests in a lazy position giving a perfect view of his cunt to the other two ghouls. He moves his hands down his thighs slowly as if he’s teasing himself, a wicked smile on his face.

“Think you two should make up, put on a show for me” rain rubs up between his folds, barely brushing his clit that is on display. He bites his lip at the electric shock that courses through his body from the small touch, a gasp on his lips.

“You don’t mean what I think you mean”

“You know I do. Make up with him and then if you do well enough you two can share me”

Phantom and dew stare at each other for a second in some kind of pseudo dominance contest. A silent argument of who will submit to the other, admit what is in their eyes, defeat.

“Gonna let me fuck you baby boy?” Dew asked, low and gravely as he crawls over to phantom who looks like he’s about to claw him if he lays a hand on him, “put on a good show for rainy? Sure you make such pretty sounds when you’re actually behaving”

“And who said I have to be the one whimpering like a whore? You seem to need to be rains bitch all the time, I might as well make you mine too”

Phantom sits up to face dew too, a mischievous look in his eyes. Another silent argument to see who backs down first without actually laying hands on each other. Dew wants a fight, more than happy with physical force, but the satisfaction of phantom possibly asking dew to fuck him is enough to keep him still in their stand off.

“You’d look so pretty though stuffed with my cock. I know you can be such an obedient little thing, maybe I just need to get you all stupid and cock drunk so you’ll be good” dew closes in, his face only inches from phantoms. Phantom can feel his hot breath on his neck, lips practically touching the sensitive skin. He doesn’t want to give up, doesn’t want to give dew the pleasure of knowing he’s won.

It’s hard to think. Between being able to smell rains own arousal, seeing him slowly play with himself at the sight of the two on the bed, and dew who is practically closing in on him. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that dews harsh words and degrading tone weren’t getting to him.

“Just say yes bug, tell me how much you want me”

Dew grabs phantoms chin in his hand, looking down at him from hooded lids. There’s a dizzying feeling in his head from the way dews other hands roams his body. Pets over his hip, plays with the waistband of his pants asking to get rid of them. He wants it. He wants dews hands on him, wants him to shame him for giving up so easily. Doesn’t care if dew gets cocky about it, just wants to be touched finally.

“Please, do something just touch me, need you” phantom starts to babble. His hands fly to dews to help in tearing off his own clothes. He tugs at his pants with dew before ripping his shirt over his head. There’s no time to process his state of exposure before he’s throwing himself onto dew.

“God if I knew you’d be this easy I would’ve bent you over a long time ago” dew laughs.

“Shut up, just do something, anything” phantom growls. He roughly tugs at dews own clothing as dew simply lays back and lets him. He has a cocky aura to him, a smugness about letting phantom act desperate after his stunts earlier.

“Gotta stop groping me like a slut and then maybe I’ll fuck you like one”

Phantoms off him in an instant. He lays back against the headboard, thighs open as his cock sits red and angry on his belly. Dew can see everything in this position, phantom completely on display for him. The way his cock fucking leaks from being hard for what seems like hours now, his little hole that is basically begging for dews cock in it, he looks more obscene than dew would like to admit.

“Stop fucking teasing then and prove it” phantom groans while dew and rain just watch him. Rain still sits on his throne like he’s waiting to be impressed. A slow slick sound comes from his fingers as he continues to lazily stroke his cunt.

It’s a challenge, something to provoke dew into being rougher with him and they both know it. Phantoms dragged down the bed in a second, knees pushed up against his chest.

“Shouldn’t have to prove anything to you when you’re already whining for it. You’ll fucking take anyone as long as it gets your little dick off won’t you?” Dew spits sloppily into his hand, smearing the saliva around phantoms hole. It’s barely enough glide for two fingers as dew shoves them in haphazardly. Phantom scrunches his face at the burn, a small whimper coming out of his mouth.

“Yeah? Is that all you needed?”

“Just fuck me already please-“ phantom squeaks as dew leans down to tease at his cock. He mouths over it, cleans the pool of pre that gathered on his stomach. He can feel it twitch over his lips and if dew thought he had any more time he would be more than happy to continue to savor his taste.

“Gotta get you stretched out. Don’t want to hurt you” dew coos, scissoring his fingers to open phantom up.

“Make it hurt fuck- dew please make it hurt” phantom cries as dew kitten licks at the tip again.

Dew can’t help but let out a shaky curse at the quints begging. He tears his fingers out to spit again in an attempt to lube himself up enough for phantom, even despite the pleas for it to hurt. Dew thinks he may black out. Getting phantom underneath him is satisfying enough, but for him to beg him to hurt him? Let him make a mess of him in front of rain? Dew truly doesn’t know how he can control himself.

“Yeah, I got you baby boy don’t worry” dew reassures him. He’s cute, even despite his awful mouth.

They both groan in unison once dew finally pushes into him. He’s slow, watching phantom for any signs of actual discomfort, but phantom looks like he’s about to cry if he doesn’t cum soon. He arches off the bed, hands fisted in the sheets below him. There’s a pretty flush down his chest as he pants trying to adjust.

“Please move please dew you gotta move come on” phantom cries.

“I’ll make such a mess of you, promise I’ll take care of you”

Rain still watches in amusement. Seeing his dew fuck the brat out of the sweet ghoul below him is more than entertaining. It’s beyond arousing to see him so commanding, watching as he completely takes phantom apart on his cock. He fingers himself open watching the two desperately fuck each other. Slick leaks from the three fingers stuffed inside of him and onto the chair, hot and messy. He can’t help himself, can’t help the little grunts and whines he makes as he watches dew fuck phantom hard and fast into the mattress.

He can tell they’re both close, the insults and degrading words fizzled out into curses and moans that have rain trying to not bring himself to edge too just watching them.

“Stop, off of each other” rain calls out retracting his own soaked fingers from himself.

Phantom nearly sobs as dew does what he’s told and pulls out. He scrambles to grab at him to keep inside to no avail.

“No rain please I need it” phantom begs

“If you stay quiet I’ll let you both cum in me, give you a little treat for being good yeah?” Rain pets over phantoms hair, laughing a bit at the tears in his eyes before laying next to them.

“Didn’t think you two should be allowed to have all the fun. Especially since you’ve been whiny brats this entire time”

Rain beckons dew over with a finger, silently telling him what he wants. He’s already loose and slippery from playing with him, doesn’t take any effort for dew to slip right inside of him. He’s hot and wet and so fucking pretty that dew doesn’t know if he will be able to last.

“You too bug, come here” rains calls

“I- will I fit?”

“Baby I think aethers thicker than the two of you combined, more worried if you’ll even get me off like this”

It’s mean, degrading, rains harsh tone and uninterested expression making dew and phantom both desperate to please him. They can barely comprehend their own thoughts, long since close to their own edges. Phantom isn’t sure he will last either just being in rain, let alone with dew pressed tightly next to him.

It’s almost too much. Phantom barely fits despite rain chastising them for not being enough. It’s slick enough that he pops right in with a sick wet sound, making all 3 curse with each other.

“Can’t move rainy, too much” phantom cries. His limbs shake, thighs trying to keep from bucking into him even though he knows he will cum almost immediately.

“I know, let me cum around you two and I promise I’ll give you whatever you want” rain pants as he reaches down to circle his own clit. He’s sensitive, borderline painfully so. Can’t help but clench down every time he touches himself even though he’s stuffed to the brim.

It doesn’t help dew and phantoms situation, even just his tight cunt clenching around them has them both teetering on the edge of their own orgasms.

“Too close raincloud, it’s too much I won’t last please-“ dew calls out, vision blurry as rains continues to leak around them

“Cum for me then, fill me up” rain gasps. His fingers twitch as he gets closer.

It doesn’t take much, phantom and dew both painfully hard and sensitive, just a couple more strokes is all they need before they are both filling rain beyond his limit. It’s hot, too much as rain also cums around them, feeling his own slick gush out of him.

He’s gross, a complete mess as dew and phantom pull out to gawk at the sight in front of them. Rain is fucking gaping, cum and his own arousal leaking out of him. It’s obscene how ruined he looks, pussy swollen and abused.

“You ok raincloud?” Dew asked, slightly concerned as they all come down from their highs.

“M fine angelfish” rain pants. He’s flushed and tired, panting from exhaustion and how sore he’s starting to feel. “Proud of both of you, happy I finally got you to get along”

“Dew started it” phantom finally speaks up.

“Fuck you bug” dew laughs

[thecuriousquest]

Hawks - P - 3 🪶

Come on Out, Chickadee

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, Predator/Prey dynamic, possessive tendencies, fire, injuries/flesh wounds by burning

Master List here.

Yandere Prompt here.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

—————————————————————————

You hold your breath, a tight pang in your chest as you move boards and boxes aside in the abandoned warehouse. He’s slow to get here yet so hot on your tail.

As if he’s playing with you.

He loves these games, loves the way you run like you actually have a chance. Loves the way you build yourself up with hope.

Just for him to strip it away.

Always stripping you of something. Hope, choices, clothes, basic rights, privileges. Anything he can think of, he takes it from you as if it’s his own to covet.

Because you are his to covet. His pretty little thing. His pretty girl.

His. Just his. Only his.

You hear the clunk of his boots land in the warehouse, and you stiffen in your hiding place. You see nothing, yet you can hear everything. One sense stripped amplifies all of the others.

He walks around, whistling. “I know you’re in here. Why don’t you just make things easier on yourself and come out? I won’t bite. Promise, chickadee.”

He promises. Promises not to bite you, not to hurt you.

You know it’s all fake. He’ll just find a different way to torment you. A fucking loophole in his fucked up system of dictatorship.

You have to clasp a hand over your mouth as you hear him draw further in, his boots growing nearer to where you’re settled behind boxes and wooden boards.

And then they pass you. You can tell he’s meagerly looking around, but not at all tearing the place apart. No, he has something else in mind.

And then you hear something else. Splashing. The splashing of liquid against items, beams, the floor, the walls. What is that? What is he doing?

A terrible smell infiltrates your nostrils. It’s familiar. The same smell when you’re at a gas station, pumping your car with fuel.

Gasoline…

Oh, God, you’re going to die in here!

You hear something else now. Rustling, more rustling from a distance, but not so far that you can barely make it out.

“I’m telling you now, little bird, if you come out, make things easier for me, I won’t be too hard on you. You gonna be good and come out?”

Silence. You don’t dare speak. You don’t dare move. You barely even breathe through your nose with a hand clasped over your mouth.

“Huh. Guess not.”

There’s a striking sound, and then heat everywhere. So much heat. You begin to sweat, you don’t know what to do.

Should you move, or should you let the fire consume you? Is being with Keigo worse or better than being burned to death?

You feel the fire encroaching your space, it seeps and burns up the cardboard boxes you’re buried behind.

Your fight or flight takes over, and you fight the fire off of you, smacking at your arm where it singes your hair and bubbles your skin. You kick at the wooden beams around you, knocking them away as flames lick and dance at them. Tiny embers falling onto you, burning your legs and the tops of your bare feet.

You cry out, scampering from what you thought would be your refuge.

Everything is fuzzy with smoke and orange hues. You’re caught in a daze of panic, and you look for the exit. You run as fast as your bare feet can carry you, and when you finally make it out of the burning building, there he is to catch you around your waist.

He pulls you into a hug, pressing your back up against the brick wall. His nose nuzzles into your neck, and you sob with a gut wrenching pain in your stomach.

His smile is lopsided, very close to his everyday charismatic nature, but his eyes…those golden orbs stare into you with the heat of the sun. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Your breathing is so irregular, you feel like you could pass out right in his arms.

“Please, Keigo, I’m sorry! Please! I just want to go home!”

“Oh, chickadee, my sweet little song bird.” His tone isn’t laced with anything malicious. In fact, he sounds much too pleased with everything that’s happening. “I’m your home. I’m the only one you’ll ever need. Don’t worry. You’ll learn that soon enough.” He caresses your filthy and tear stained cheek. “I’ll help you learn.”

[mpregfrance]

APH South Italy/Romano Headcanons 🇮🇹

(SFW, Spamano/RomaSpa centric)

He wears a lot of jewelry, but it's classy never flashy. Several rings, one of which is engraved with an 'A' for Antonio. Usually wearing at least a solid gold chain and a crucifix.

He's very Catholic, in a uniquely Italian way (iykyk i cannot elaborate)

He smokes like a chimney, high quality cigars and cheap cigarettes. If you ask him to put it out he will blow it right at you. This is on top of heavy cologne (Versace Eros) so you can smell him from a mile away.

Certified Short King™, maybe around 5'7? I can see him with almost any sort of physique, that being said I don't think he's a twink, he at least has some wiry strength. He's lean but solidly built, maybe even has some pudge esp as he ages?

He's very warm toned. His skin is a light olive, not pale yet not quite bronze. He tans well but isn't tan all year round. Honestly he probably uses tanning beds during winter lmao

He's got a fair amount of body hair and often leaves his shirts unbuttoned to display this, intentionally or not. He's a sharp dresser when out in public, but at home he sits around in sweat stained tanks and boxers.

He loves his red wine, and apertifs. Grappa or Sambuca for something a stronger. Doesn't mind the taste of hard liquor at all. Definitely holds his alcohol better than his brother or Antonio.

Loves sailing and yachting, leisure sports. Has a bit of a gambling habit. Not to a destructive point, just in good fun.

When he's in a good mood he hums to himself and you might even catch him singing if he thinks he's alone.

Dances to Dean Martin in the kitchen with Antonio. He actually likes cooking together. Normally he'd be the type of person to hate others in his space while doing something, but Toni is an equally talented chef so he allows it.

Makes a big pot of sauce and polpette on Sundays. Italians will know. Eats wayyyy too much meat than is healthy. You can pry his salumi out of his cold dead hands.

He's sensitive and not always rational - the type to make mountains out of molehills and deflect real issues with humour. Explosive temper. Born to argue. Quick to throw insults (and hands). Just as quick to forgive and forget. If he holds a grudge you really fucked up.

If he likes you, he'll tease you and call you names. If he doesn't, he won't bother to talk to you much. He likes to fuck with people to an extent but has little patience for unnecessary conversation.

He can be extremely condescending; and to Tonio exclusively, extremely sweet. He's a smooth talker and romantic when he feels like it, laying on the pet names and sweet nothings, especially when he wants something in return.

He's honest and loyal, but generally a very private person. It's difficult to earn his trust and get on his good side but once you have it you're one of the lucky few. He's hospitable and generous and often does that for show. Loves to give meaningful and lavish gifts. If he cares about someone not only will they be spoiled in a material sense, but he'll do favors for them to make their life easier.

(note: this might be controversial re; accuracy but i don't actually have beef with his canon human name. 'lovino isn't a real name' well yes and no. it's not common or representative. but there's so much variety in italian naming that it certainly could be a first name. according to forebears there are 259 ppl named lovino on record but only 9 are in italy lol. or u could just call him ~romano~ which is a more popular human first name. i kinda like lovino, its unique.)

[proqhetic]

I'm so happy you're back!! I missed your yj posts on my fyp :(

could you write lottie x reader where they're at a party and the reader is tipsy, begging lottie to give her kisses, and lottie is just trying to put her to bed, thank you <333

a/n: i’m gonna cry dani ilysm😭😭 i got a bit carried away with this so im sorry if it seems kind of choppy 😥

the loud bass blaring from the speakers across the house was starting to give you a headache. you were a couple drinks in and the booze was just catching up to your system, swirling all your thoughts into one big whirlpool.

it’s been a long night of talking to random people and singing along to chart toppers from about 5 years ago. right now, you just wanted to find your girlfriend, really badly. you lost lottie at some point earlier in the night when she was pulled away by one of the other yellowjackets to play a drinking game with the rest of the team, and you hung out with some other friends from school.

navigating the sweaty, rowdy crowd was just awful. you were pretty sure this was practically the entire student population from your school, crammed into jeff sadecki’s stupidly big house. after squeezing past a couple rooms, you finally set your eyes on a familiar head of brunette curls.

you stopped in the doorway and watched on as lottie was zoomed in on an intense game of beer bong. she made that face she does when she’s concentrating — eyebrows furrowed, biting her bottom lip, the slight squint of her eyes. you couldn’t help but smile from the sidelines as she aimed the winning shot, and of course, she made it. a mixture of groans and loud whooping filled the room, as lottie happily turned to her teammate, shauna, and gave her a solid high-ten.

despite not drinking anything else, you somehow feel giddier than you did 5 minutes ago. but connecting the dots would’ve required too much brain power. instead, you stumble over to lottie and wrap her in a warm hug from behind. “congrats, babe!” you wish her with a grin, speaking louder than you thought you were in your head.

lottie yelps but an immediate smile appears once she sees you. “hi baby!” she greets, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, before her face contorts into a grimace. “oh, god, you smell of booze. how much have you drunk?”

lottie wasn’t typically one to drink a lot at parties, she wasn’t a big fan of the taste of beer. chances were you’d catch her smoking something instead.

“uhhm, like, just a bit…” you slurred out with an airy giggle, to which lottie groaned (affectionately). “i think you’ve had enough, we should get going soon, okay?” she said, pulling you aside by the arm. you whined at that, not wanting to leave so early. “nnooo, lottieee…” “come on, let’s get you sobered up a bit.”

whilst the two of you were walking to the kitchen hand in hand, you tried tiptoeing to give lottie another kiss, only to trip on an armchair in front of you and lose your balance. thankfully, your girlfriend has an insane reaction time and managed to catch you. “are you okay?” she hurriedly asked, pulling you up. “wanna kiss youu…!” was all you said with a cheeky smile. “no kisses until you’re sobered up!” lottie spoke firmly and you pouted the rest of the way there.

she pours you a glass of water and tells you to drink up. “mm, kiss first?” lottie rolled her eyes at how persistent you’re being, but eventually caved and gave you a peck on your cheek. “that’s all you’re getting. now drink up and we can leave!” content with what you got, you obliged and drank everything.

a moment passes and both of you stay standing, leaned against the kitchen island. lottie reaches over to brush your hair with her hand, strands getting entangled between her fingers. you turn to look up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, begging her once again for a kiss. “pleaseee, i’m not drunk anymore…” however, she was strong-willed enough to shake her head. “let’s get you home baby, you gotta rest.”

the drive back to your house was a comfortable silence, until you started mumbling along to the song on the radio, extremely out of tune. eliciting a laugh out of lottie made you grin and filled you with a sense of pride, that same giddiness overwhelming you

“alrighty, we’re here.” she announced as she parked the car. she hurriedly got out and came to the other side of the car to open your door and help you out. (you’ve proven several times that night that walking in a straight line would be a challenge.)

reaching your doorstep, you realised lottie would have to leave soon, and she’s only properly kissed you once. “do you wanna, maybe stay the night? my parents aren’t home and… i could use the company,” you asked, your fingers tracing up and down her arm. lottie’s face grew warm at your request, “really? i-i mean, yeah, of course!”

lottie’s hand reached for the doorknob, but you stopped her. “wait!” she turned to look at you, her big eyes widening in confusion. “can i have my kiss now?” you asked one last time. “pleeasseee?”

the corners of lottie’s lips quirked upwards as she let out a soft giggle. “fine, since you’ve been so patient with me tonight,” she murmured as she cupped your cheeks and finally gave you that kiss you’ve been yearning for all night. you instantly melted into it and rested your hands on her shoulders, pulling her in even closer

“there.” lottie said breathlessly as you two pulled away for air. you felt lightheaded and just stared back at her, dazed. “now let’s get you to bed.”

[cookie-crumblr]

What would happen if we ignored Ezra and didn't care what he did for a day?

SORRY ITS TAKEN ME LITERALLY SO LONG!!! TYSM FOR THE ASKS!!! ily all 💋✨

He’d get so angry.

So toxic,

ecstatic and sad all at the same time.

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: GN!Reaader, no body descriptions for reader, not proofread, explicit language, violence, NON CON SA. VIOLENCE AGAINST READER. names used against reader(Cunt, ), assault, loud “noises”, general bullying against reader!

Status: Not even close to dating

“Fuck off! Just, leave me alone already!!” You stormed off, leaving him somewhat dumbfounded with a lust filled smirk cemented to his face.

He fixes his jaw.

“, finally” He swaggers away in the other direction, for now.

Later~

“Are you still ignoring me, Y/N?”

You pick up your things and go to move seats without a word.

He watches you through twitching lowered brows, gaining annoyance as a ripe little cherry on top of everything else he’s been feeling since you left in a huff this morning.

Ignore him will ya? Welp, he’ll just have to make it harder for you to do so.

He moves seats too.

You move seats again, before, “Y/L/N, You’re disrupting class. Either stay seated this time, or get out.” The professor says.

Fuck.

Well now you’re stuck next to him…

You sit on the side edge of your seat as far away from him as possible, in fact only one freakin butt cheek is even on the dang thing. You’re even facing completely away when, he start rapping his fingers against the desk. His head is in his hand.

“Uhhhhg just stop already!” He moans. He’s so loud, you’d swear his noises are way more disruptive than you moving seats maybe if you just—

“Sit back down, or leave.”

You groan loud and draw it out. HES WAY LOUDER! Why is he NEVER in trouble???

Whatever. only … Fuck… sixty more minutes… Gods why are courses so long!

He huffs loudly next to you and blows some strawberry blonde hair out of his face.

It’s too bad he’s so hot, his looks are wasted on such a nasty dude.

A hand slaps your thigh and grips your inner flesh tightly to where it stings! “Ow!!”

“Shhh!” the professor turns from the screen toward your direction.

“Sorry Sur…” UHG. Whatever.

“Pfft,” He’s laughing. He’s seriously laughing at you!

You know what! Fine. You will leave. And you do.

Ezra follows you to the hallway.

You speed up and try to go hide in the restroom.

Once inside you sigh, but relief is cut short when the door opens.

You clamber into a stall, Fuck fuck FUCK. No! now you’re alone with him! Oh shit. Oh no. Oh gods…

*SLAM! BANG! CRASH!*

You jump. You think he kicked in a stall door, it sounded like it flew off its poor hinges. You cower with your whole body scrunched on top of the toilet.

You realize you’re shaking.

You cover your own mouth to silence yourself but—

*BANG-CRASH!*

You muffle a whimper but you know he heard you.

“Y/N~ I know you’re in here,”

*BANG-CLANG-CRASH*

FUCK!

There’s only one left before yours…

*Flick*

Huh? A lighter…

You smell cigarette smoke, and a tear forms at the corner of your eye. He’s just toying with you as always, he has to be… Right?

“Y/N~” He’s cooing in an almost sing-songy voice. “If you come out now, i’ll give ya a reward…”

You wipe your face, and steel yourself for a second…

Okay… Fine.

It’s probably better than whatever he’d do to you if you keep cowering until he inevitably gets to you, in two more kicks.

You open the door.

“There~ That wasn’t so hard wasit?” His voice is so gentle right now, but it does little to calm you.

You turn your head in defiance.

“You really wanna do this, huh? Ignorin’ me or whatever,” He flicks away his cigarette and you can’t hold in the air that leaves you in actual relief, that’s one less weapon against you.

He closes the distance in a single movement, grasping your face by the cheeks and squeezing them. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You don’t.

“Look. At. Me. Now.”

You remain stead fast.

“You finally got s’m balls, eh.” He smiles and drops your face with a soft uncharacteristic caress to your jaw.

You break and take a quick glance at him.

“ahhh, you want that, huh?” He brings back that sweet voice… “You want me to be all lovey and soft huh?” Your heart thumps in your chest hard. He doesn’t mean it, he’s not gonna change and you know it. “Too Fuckin’ bad” He grabs your face again before throwing it down, he grabs your body next and throws you down onto the dirty bathroom floor.

“Please!!” You cover your face with your arms, but it’s no use hes on top of you, pulling your arms away from you, ripping open your legs and pulling them up on either side of him.

His buckle is loud in your ears as he undoes it, before your hearing cuts out, did he punch you? Your whole head hurts and your vision is fuzzy.

Your skull must’ve bounced off the ceramic tiles.

He punches you again, he’s not using his full strength but it might still knock you out.

“Stupid cunt, you think you can ignore me?” He spits.

“Please, Ezra!!! Sto—op—p” You’re choking out sobs but you can barley hear yourself as if your in another room from your own body.

He spits on his own dick and spreads it around before entering you, at least he’ll give you that.

It still hurts.

He’s rough, not caring that your already damaged skull is continuing to bounce off the floor.

eventually you’re out cold. It’s a small mercy. But a mercy nonetheless.

When you come to you’re still on the floor, naked and afraid as people surround your battered body and snap pics and laugh.

“Aw shit, they’re awake” one says.

“Damn” another adds.

You grab your stuff and bolt, new tears streaming down your puffy face.