#instead of letting her music stand on its own

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt1 | Pt2 | this one is the last part!

After Steve has dropped Nancy off at her house – and Nancy has talked some courage into him – he drives to the uglier part of town, over Cornwallis and then into Forest Hills. He can only hope Eddie is home. If not, he'll try Jeff's house, and then Freak's or Gareth's. He had to promise Nancy he'll keep searching even if it has him ending up at Reefer Rick's boathouse again.

Luckily, no such search actions seem necessary when he gets to the trailer park: as soon as Steve opens his car door, he can hear loud music emerging from inside the Munsons' trailer. Even though it isn't exactly Eddie's usual taste, something tells Steve that Wayne definitely isn't the one who put this one on.

Should have known better than to cheat a friend And waste a chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you

He knocks on the door, but is not surprised when no one inside seems to hear him, so he pushes it open to let himself in instead.

He finds Eddie sprawled out on the floor in front of the old boombox. His eyes are closed, but even from Steve's place in the doorway he can see how swollen and red the skin underneath them is. His hair is spread out around his head on the floor like a dark halo, and his fingers are restlessly tapping on his own arm to the melody of the saxophone solo.

Steve finds himself frozen in the doorway, captivated by simply watching Eddie lying there in his own bubble while the music slowly fades out. Despite the sadness radiating off him, there's something weirdly beautiful about it, and Steve can't look away, can't move, can't make a sound.

Then, Eddie suddenly sits up; his index finger is already stretched out towards the rewind button when Steve clears his throat to make his presence known. Eddie whips his head towards him with a startled sound.

'Jesus Christ, what the hell?!' he yells out. 'How long have you been standing there? No, you know what, don't answer that, just get the hell out!'

'Eddie, I-'

'I don't wanna hear any of it, man! I thought – no, I'm not talking to you. Fuck you.' Steve knows it's supposed to sound angry, but Eddie's voice starts wobbling dangerously towards the end of his sentence.

'Eddie, please just hear me out,' Steve says, stepping further into the trailer. The end of Careless whisper has left a deafening silence in its wake. He half expects Eddie to cover his ears and start singing loudly, but he's only met with a teary-eyed death stare and crossed arms.

'I'm not seeing any girl, Dustin got it all wrong,' he starts to explain. 'I wanted to tell him who I was really seeing, but I couldn't - not without your permission - so I told him I was seeing someone. Meaning you. I haven't been seeing anyone ever since that first time we kissed. I didn't need to. I've only been thinking about you.' He pauses. It's scary, to let himself be vulnerable like this while Eddie is still looking at him like he despises him. But he takes a deep breath and pushes himself to say it all.

'I don't want to see anyone, boy or girl, ever again, as long as I can have you, Eddie. I promise. I've been falling for months, but I didn't wanna scare you off with any labels you might not want for us – but you're it for me, Eddie, one hundred percent. I never meant to hurt you like this. It's all a big misunderstanding; there's no one else for me.'

Eddie is still sitting on the floor, looking up at Steve with wide, teary eyes. Something in his face has slowly shifted while Steve was talking; the harsh lines around his mouth have turned softer and the betrayal in his eyes has made way for something Steve can only hope to be good.

'You wanted to tell Dustin about us?' is all Eddie says, his voice croaky.

Steve takes another step towards Eddie, then crouches down to the ground until he's sitting right next to him on the worn carpet.

'I mean, I know I don't wanna hide what I'm feeling for you. Especially not when people are thinking I'm going out with some girl when all I want is to be with you.' He reaches out to grab Eddie's hands in his own. 'So yeah, I think I wanna tell Dustin. And everyone else, basically. That is, if we're on the same page about what we are.'

Eddie frees one of his hands from Steve's grip to wipe it over his eyes. His palm is wet when his hand finds Steve's again.

'What about boyfriends?' he says, a hesitant smile creeping onto his face.

Steve squeezes his hands, unable to stop a matching smile of his own appearing. To hear that word falling from Eddie's mouth... He had expected it to feel good, of course, but he had never anticipated it to feel like this: like the whole world suddenly makes sense again.

'Yeah, I can do boyfriends,' he answers, his voice breathy with the multitude of emotions bubbling up inside of him. 'That sounds – sounds good. Great. Perfect.'

Eddie surges forward to catch him in a kiss that's a bit wetter than Steve is used to. Steve happily kisses him back, though, and he can barely suppress a shiver when one of Eddie's hands makes its way upwards over Steve's back and into the hair in his neck. There's a softness to his touch that easily drives Steve crazy with relief.

When they pull back, both of them are smiling dumbly and breathing heavily.

'I'm sorry I had so little trust in you,' Eddie tells him.

'That's okay, I understand,' Steve is quick to answer. 'As long as you leave listening to George Michael to me again from now on.'

Eddie makes a face, causing a big frown to appear between his eyebrows, along with all kinds of wrinkles around his nose.

'God, I can't believe you witnessed that and still wanted to be my boyfriend,' he says, adding an exaggerated shudder for extra dramatics.

Steve clenches his arms tighter around Eddie. 'You won't scare me off that easily,' he murmurs. 'It was kind of adorable.'

'It was pathetic.'

'Yeah, a little bit. But in an adorable way.'

Eddie rolls his eyes. 'You're an idiot, Steve Harrington,' he says. 'But... In an adorable way.'

Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx @candlecatsblog @goodolefashionedloverboi @jojobeaner @pinkdaisies1998 @giverobinagfbrigade @therealscarletpumpernickel @darkwithcoferie @duraffinity @lyriclight @almondflavoredbookworm @kingelyx @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @m-owo-n @altermagic @sirsnacksalot @littlebookworm86 @platinum-sunset @chaosgremlinmunson @morganski-19 @cam-cat-writer @slime-hoe @bat-outta-hel @justsearchingformystory @notfromtwitter @ashwinmeird @marklee-blackmore @warlordess @breealtair @pansexualhousecat @louwilsonscreamingpapa @inikokoru (more tags in the replies bc tumblr is being a dick again)

[coeurify]

actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.

[readychilledwine]

Dancing with Eris Vanserra Headcanons?

Sway

Dancing with Eris Headcanons

Warnings - none.

A/N - I have a whole playlist for this subject. Writing Eris dancing is honestly becoming an obsession.

P.s. You'll get a detailed scene of that in Kissed by Fire.

Eris learned to dance from his mother. His father did not see if as a necessary skill, but Mama Vanserra saw it as a necessary outlet.

She has had him dancing since he could stand on her toes. She would count the little steps out to him while teaching him the story and meaning behind each dance.

It soon became an object of pride Beron used. Another way to brag about the son he was not actually proud of.

He would use Eris's skills to seduce females for information, or Mother forbid a father upset the High Lord and had a pretty daughter. Then it was a warning.

Until, you, that is.

Your father is one of Eris's spies, planted as an advisor to Beron. Once you were of age, Beron insisted on a large ball to honor you and present you as an eligible bachelorette to the Autumn Court.

Beron had Eris offer you a dance. It was the first time Beron forced him to dance with a female where it wasn't a warning or filled with ill intent.

Eris will never forget that night. Your hair had been curled and fell into loose waves, a braid wrapped the back of your hair with pieces pulled through. Your father and mother spared no expense to purchase diamonds to decorate your hair with.

He remembers the way you flushed when he offered you his hand. The way you quietly squeaked when his hand rested on your hip once you two were centered on the floor.

He remembers the feel of the rich red velvet dress and its full skirt. He remembers the whispers of scandal over the sweetheart necklace decored with diamonds and sheer nude sleeves that matched your skintone perfectly and matched as well. It was a nod to your mother's Night Court heritage while still accepting fashion standards from Autumn.

The first dance you two shared was a traditional waltz.

It would be the same dance you two would share for your first as husband and wife one year later.

Eris never had a dance partner like you. Someone who was as trained as he was, who loved to dance as much as he did.

Nesta had been fun to dance with, but she did not hold a candle to you.

You and Eris spend most of your time dancing. Sometimes, it's alone with instruments enchanted to play in the ballroom. Sometimes, it's to absolutely no music, your head on his chest. Your arms would rest up his strong back while one of his wrapped your waist and the other cradled your head.

The two of you are the opening dance for every Autumn ball, a tradition handed over by Beron to Eris to allow him to drink instead of perform his duties.

It allowed you two so much more freedom to decide the tone of the ball. It was a symbol of power Beron unknowingly and stupidly handed his son.

It also allowed you two to bring back a dance Beron had banned. The tango. He had deemed it too sexual, too scandalous.

The dance was too ingrained in Autumn culture to allow it to rest and be forgotten.

When Beron died under mysterious circumstances, dancing became more common in Autumn again.

In the streets, in the pubs, in The Forest House.

It became all too common to hear you and Eris laughing as he spun and dipped you.

His body was more relaxed now, allowing the movements to feel almost Godlike now.

When you two finally have a family, the made tradition continues.

From the moment your little daughter holds her head up well enough, Eris holds her close, letting her hold his finger in her little hand and swaying her.

Then Eris echos his own mother, having your sweet girl stand on his feet as he teaches her the steps.

Her first dance presented to the court was a magic moment for Eris.

She was in your dress. That beautiful red velvet dress. He looked at you during the dance, eyes lined with tears as you held your young son.

You would always be his favorite partner. His perfect match. But his daughter, your daughter, she would be close second.

It was a fairytale for him. It healed that last part of dancing that had been so tainted by Beron.

He had spent the rest of the night dancing with you, watching closely as male after male approaches your daughter

You trailed his eyes, seeing the lights dancing off your daughter's flaming red hair. "A beauty, is she not?"

"She is exquisite. My finest work." His lips twitched in pride. Eyes beginning to water again. "I do not plan on letting her go gently."

"Perhaps you will have a dance off with whomever she decides is worthy of her love."

Eris smirked at the idea, the bond now glowing as he dipped you and kissed your neck. "And now I know how we replace the blood duels. I would never lose."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[samkerrworshipper]

begging for leah x it's a bad idea by olivia rodrigo. smut cause why not. boyfriend leah at its finest. and teammate references cause i love me some worried friends.

seeing her tonight, it’s a bad idea right?

leah williamson x reader

lighter smut, lots of fluff, little bit of angst, chelsea wfc x reader, admissions of love minors dni

When I’d heard my phone buzzing the last thing I would have expected was a missed call from her and a flurry of texts.

Leah

Come over? 10.15pm

Please, I miss you, I’m lonely. 10.16pm

Let’s have some fun 😉? 10.18pm

Here’s the new address if you didn’t already have it. Unit two Lower end Road Buckinghamshire. 10.21pm

I hadn’t heard from her in months, not since England beat Australia in the World Cup. I looked around the bar that I was sitting at with my friends and teammates, it was Friday night and we’d taken it upon ourselves to get our weekend started on a goodnote, the Chelsea girls knew how to party. I’m gradually getting myself fucked up and now I can’t get her out of my head, everything about it feels shameful. All I can think about is her, I thought we were done, thought we were through but I can’t help myself from looking down at the texts, she’s calling my phone and she’s all alone and I can’t even hear my own thoughts with the music thrumming through the space and the adrenaline rush that’s getting to my head as I think about her.

Seeing her tonight, it’s a bad idea right?

Fuck it.

I collect my things quite quickly, giving my friends all goodbyes, telling them that I’m not feeling well and I’m just going to get a uber home. Millie, Sam and Guro are all disappointed, Madga insists she’ll drive me home but I deny her immediately, telling her I’ll just catch a uber and that I don’t want to ruin the night for any of them. They all seemed slightly worried by my answer but had accepted it nonetheless, Sam insisting that she’d call the uber for me, which was slightly annoying but also a battle I knew I wouldn’t win, I was just going to have to direct the driver to Leah’s instead of mine.

She walked me out to the car, in typical older sister fashion, she’d adopted me as soon as I’d joined her at Chelsea and it was sometimes funny to me how overprotective she got. She walked me all the way to the car, checking that I had the right driver and making sure I had my seatbelt fastened before saying her goodbyes. The whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about Leah, my brain clouded over with the thoughts of her. Sure she might be my ex but can’t two people reconnect? We just saw each other as friends, right?

As soon as the driver starts to move the car in the direction of my apartment I redirect him to Leah’s apartment, she only lives five minutes away so I just decide I’ll tip him generously.

I can’t believe that I’m wrecking all my plans for her, I know I should stop, but I can’t. I told my friends that I was feeling sick and I was heading to bed but I never said who’s.

Before I know it ‘m showing up at your place, climbing out of the car and looking up at your apartment. Should I? Probably not. All that I can hear in my head is you though, we’re just friends is all I can tell myself but I also know that it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told myself.

I’m walking up the stairs, to the second floor and before I know what I’m doing I’m knocking on your door and you're standing, smiling at the door.

Before I know she’s pulling me into the apartment and before I can even say anything because her lips are on my own. I don’t even put up a fight, letting her devour me just as I’d been dreaming about the whole way here. It’s just two people reconnecting, right?

Her hands are all over me, snaking up and down my waist and legs as she devours my mouth and neck with ease.

“Bedroom baby, not in the hallway.”

Leah nods eagerly, smirking as she pulls be with one hand down the entrance and quickly into her room, forcing me to trip and fall into her bed.

“Missed you.”

It was murmured against my neck as she continued her assault of the skin all over my body, I swore she was touching every single nerve ending in my body, it was like I was on fire, in all of the best ways. She always made me feel that way, I think that was why I always came crawling back to her even if I was just another one of her things for her to play with when she was bored and alone, at least it was the best sex of my life, every single time.

She took her time as well, tending to every single part of my body before she even dipped below my underwear, taking her time to stirp every layer of my clothes and to worship every part of skin that was revealed to her with another layer gone, I felt like a babushka doll, slowly being stripped down until I was just me. She knew she was good as well, knew just how well she knew my body. She was smug about it, in the disgusting boyfriend way that made me so giddy on the insides.

When she did eventually work her way down I was a trembling, moaning mess. My coherency was gone and all I could do was mutter Leah’s name and a trail of profanities that only she could ever make me produce.

Leah had stamina, an insane amount, she could go all night, she’d proven that to me in the past. I could sense that wasn’t going to be tonight though, something about tonight seemed softer, more delicate, less fucking out our feelings. It was poetic in a way that I’d never experienced with Leah and it sort of weirded me out, not enough to not enjoy the feeling of her tongue slowly descending down on my pussy, licking it’s way through my folds like she was fucking cat. My body reacted almost immediately, letting out more strings of profanities and moans, embarrassingly sinful groans that I was sure Leah’s neighbours could probably hear.

She didn’t stop until I was an incoherent mess, giving me orgasm after orgasm until I couldn’t even talk anymore. Using her tongue, fingers and my facourite vibrator of hers to have me at her mercy. Once I think I’d gotten to my fifth she decided I was done, I was floating on a endorphin cloud, and didn’t even really notice as Leah helped me into her covers and into her blankets and sheets. By the time she had gotten me under them though I’d managed to awaken enough that I was thinking straight and seeing. Leah was lying down next to me, still mostly clothed and as far as I was aware, untouched.

“Let me look after you?”

Leah was never a receiver, told me she found pleasure in seeing me in pleasure, which I loved but I also loved seeing Leah enjoying herself.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

With that answer Leah had nodded at me, her bottom lip between her teeth as my hand snaked under the covers and down her body, gently unclipping her bra and letting my hand snake further down and inbetween her own legs. She was soaked, dripping straight through her panties and it was pretty easy for me to make her come down with just my hand, pinching her clit and watching her face as she shook and squirted all over my fingers. By the time she’d come down we were both well and truly spent. It didn’t take long for Leah’s hands to wrap their way around my waist, twisting us up in her sheets into a pile of sweat and limbs.

“Missed you.”

Leah’s hands were busying themselves in my hair, massaging my scalp and tugging at my roots.

“Missed you too, Lee.”

My voice was murmured against her bicep, which my head was resting against, giving her easier access to my scalp. I could still feel the faint effects of the alcohol that I had consumed earlier, making me sort of giddy and warm on the inside. Nothing though could compare to the pure warmth of feeling Leah’s breath against my neck, brushing air up and down the sensitive skin.

“What were you doing, before I texted?”

“I was out with the team, getting drinks at the bar on James street.”

I knew that she knew the one I was talking about, I was fairly sure we’d been there together before, but I wasn’t completely certain.

“You left the team for me?”

There was a lot of insecurity in her voice. We were both extremely tied into our clubs, only having played for them and being die hard supporters of our clubs. I bled blue and her blood was Arsenal red, it was just how we were.

“I guess, what did you think I was doing?”

Leah’s hands continued their gentle rub of my head, she practically had me mewling in her arms.

“I guess I thought you were home or something, didn’t really think about it, figured if you were doing something that you would just ignore me.”

“You know that I would never ignore you right. I physically can’t.”

Leah’s hands stopped for a split second when the words left my mouth, not long enough for it to be highly noticeable though.

“I’m sorry I ghosted you.”

“You didn’t ghost me, ghosting is implying that I reached out to you and you have actively ignored me, we mutually discommunicated. It’s not like we’re dating or anything, you're under no obligation to text me.”

Leah’s hands began to slow, a clear sign she was thinking.

“Did you want to text me?”

It was a dopey question, so Leah like.

“Of course I wanted to text you Leah, I just didn’t know what we were and I didn’t want to make assumptions.”

“What do you think we are?”

I let the question hand in the air for a few minutes, contentedly relaxing into Leah’s fingers and thinking about the question.

“I mean Leah, it’s no secret that you make your way around. I always thought I was just another one of your girls that you call when you're feeling horny, I’m fine with that, but I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t wanted more at some stage.”

I heard Leah exhale from above me, we’d always had a friends with benefits relationship, that’s always how I’d classified it.

“I love you, y/n.”

I froze up at those words, they’d been the very last thing I’d been expecting to leave Leah’s mouth.

“No you don’t, shut up, the endorphins are getting to your head.”

It was my defence mechanism, denial and refusal.

“Uh, I’ve got bad news for you, I think I do.”

Before I knew it she was tilting my head back fully, so I was looking at her in the eye and just one look at those brown orbs showed me the amount of sincerity that was held in them.

“What?”

I was so fucking confused, surely it was the alcohol, the scotch that I’d had getting to my head.

“I mean, I know that most of our relationship has been sex, but the mronigns and nights we’ve spent together have been amazing and I know everyone thinks that I work my way around but as soon as I started seeing you I stopped, because you were enough, but it’s not enough for me anymore seeing you once a month or whenever we can, I want you everyday. I want to wake up beside you, I want to have sleepy morning sex and breakfast in bed. I want you all the time, not when we can make it work.”

The sentence was ended with a peck to my forehead, it took everything in my power to not laugh at Leah because even though I knew she was being genuine there was something so funny about this whole predicament to me.

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean am I sure, of course I am, I wouldn’t have laid my heart out like that if I wasn’t.”

Leah’s voice was full of exasperation, I knew it was taking a lot for her to make these admissions because whether or not she wanted to admit it she was a very guarded person and it took a lot for her to say something like that.

“That’s nice.”

Leah let out a snort, a big, loud snort that just make me smile.

“That’s nice? That’s all I get after laying my heart out?”

“I love you too?”

My words were muttered out between a litter of laughs and breaths as I watched Leah’s face contort into something of annoyance and adoration.

“Can you say it without it being a question?”

I licked my lips and smiled at her.

“What do I get if I do?”

“Will a kiss suffice?”

I bit my lip and smirked at her.

“I love you.”

I put as much into the words as I could, being rewarded with a soft kiss to my lips, both of our eyes were growing heavy and you could tell by the softness in the actions.

“Say it again.”

I rolled my eyes at Leah, reaching up and pressing my lips to hers between every word.

“I,” kiss “Love,” kiss “You,” kiss “Leah,” kiss “Williamson.”

I could feel her smirking against my lips and everything about it was right.

“Now that I’ve made it clear, I’m actually feeling quite tired so how about you give me some hugs and we go to sleep and maybe have that sleepy morning sex you mentioned when we wake up?”

Leah smirked at me, smugly, how she did when anyone talked about sex around her.

“I think I can do that.”

I’d moved onto my side and Leah’s arms had woven her way around my waist, essentially spooning me. It was so wholesome, so unlike anything that had ever occurred between us and before I knew it I was drifting off in Leah’s arms.

I was awoken unhappily by the sound of my phone ringing madly from beside us. I picked it up quickly, before I could get a look at the caller ID, too worried that the sound would awaken Leah. I was lucky she was a deep sleeper. I very hastily pressed the phone to my ear, to be met with the voice of my adoptive sister/mother.

“Where the fuck are you?”

I probably should have expected this call.

“What do you mean?”

“I just got home, you’re not here.”

Fuck.

“I’m with a friend.”

I heard Sam’s growl from the other side of the line.

“You said you were sick, why the fuck are you with a friend?”

I didn’t really have an answer to that question.

“I’m safe, I’m fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone quickly, placing it back down on the bedside table and sliding myself back into Leah, tangling our limbs back together and slotting myself back in next to her.

“Who was it?”

Leah’s voice was full of sleep and I was sure she hadn’t even opened her eyes.

“Sam.”

Leah nodded against me, clearly content with my answer.

“What did she want?”

“Wanted to know where I was, I told her I was sick when I left the bar and I guess she got home and wondered where I was. She sounded like she’d had a few drinks, she probably won’t even remember by the time morning rolls around.”

Leah nodded again, I could tell she wasn’t fully awake and didn’t intend on becoming fully awake.

“Go back to sleep, we’ll sort it out in the morning.”

I let myself relax back into Leah’s body, relaxing into her warmth and the safety she offered and letting myself fall back to sleep in her arms.

I would have loved to have said that I awoke to sleepy, morning kisses and sex. I didn’t. I woke up to the sound of somebody pounding on Leah’s door. Both Leah and I shot up in the bed, her jumping up quickly and finding a discarded pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt very quickly and me locating my pants and shirt from the night before and throwing them on quick enough to see Leah sliding out of her room and down the hall. I managed to duck my head out just in time to see her open the door and see who was waiting behind it, silently shitting myself when I saw the four women pushing past a very shell shocked Leah.

Millie, Magda, Pernille and Sam were the four last people I wanted to see in this circumstance and place.

“Sure, just let yourselves in, no worries guys.”

There was insecurity hidden behind her words, as much as she tried to make them sound confident.

“What the fuck are you all doing here?”

My voice was close to a shriek, it was 6.30 in the morning for fucks sakes and yet they were all here, looking as bright as daisies in Leah’s apartment.

“You told us you were sick, Sam got an ominous call from you, we looked at your location, it said you were here, so we came to check up on you, see how that sickness was going. Seems like you’ve found yourself a carer in our absence though. I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted, good morning Leah, good to see you getting out of your shell.”

Leah and I both looked at each other and then back at Millie, she could be down right scary when she was mad or annoyed.

“I’m feeling much better.”

There was sass behind my words that I knew wouldn’t slide with the group.

“I think you’d both better get to explaining, fairly quickly, before we all start to make assumptions.”

I smirked at Sam, it was all going to happen in due time I supposed, and there was no way of trying to worm out of this situation so what was the harm in telling a few people. I looked at Leah for assurance and when I saw her nod at me I started talking,

“Leah and I have been in a situation for a few months now, on and off since around the olympics I think. Nothing commitment, just friends with benefits. She texted me last night and I decided I wanted to go see her, so I told you all I felt sick and I headed over to her house. I’m sure you can piece together with your own heads what happened between then and now.”

I waved my hand nonchalantly at the group that was congregated in Leah’s kitchen, they were my family, Magda and Pernille were Millie, Sam and I’s parents and we were all sisters. Magda was the bad cop, because she never let anything slide and was always onto us about anything. Pernille the good cop, always sending us smiles and little graces that we loved her for. We loved the both equally, for the different things they both provided. I knew Leah had a similar relationship with Kim Little, who was like her Arsenal mom, she was probably going to be the next person we would have to face about this.

“What the actual fuck?”

Sam’s voice piping up didn’t surprise me, out of all of them she was the most protective of mek being my National captain as well we spent a lot of time together, she was my best friend in the entire world.

“Samantha, watch that language.”

Sam gave Magda and eyeroll before turning back to Leah and I, Leah who was now standing beside me in the doorway of her room, the room we had previously been sleeping in, something I missed quite largely.

“You’re telling me that you two fucking rabbits kept this a secret for like three years and now you’re telling people, what the actual flying fuck.”

Magda’s hand was squeezing Sam’s bicep and I was a little bit scared for Leah’s safety if that hand Magda had secured slipped.

“Well the circumstances between us have changed, slightly.”

Leah nodded in agreement with my statement, clearly she was trying to help present a united front.

“Leah and I are dating?”

The words felt weird leaving my mouth, but Leah’s nod from beside me gave me the impression that they were the right words and it made me sort of warm on the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa in the middle of winter and feeling it seep into your bones.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve sorted this all out, we’ll leave you both to it, although don’t think we won’t be having words about this y/n, we will be. Besides that I think it’s time we leave, sorry for disturbing you both, sorry for breaking into your apartment Williamson, I’m sure we’ll see you around now. We’ll see you later y/n/n.”

Magda’s voice was strong, it was an order for the rest of the group to leave and for some reason, they did, the four of them blushing, speechless messes as they filed out of Leah’s apartment without any words besides some hushed goodbyes. As soon as the door closed both Leah and I were erupting in laughter.

Seeing her last night maybe wasn’t that bad of an idea? right?

[ghoularaki]

w3lc0me t0 th3 fr3aksh0w <3 | 2

↠  summary: Your ex-boyfriend not satisfied with how the relationship ended comes back to teach you a lesson its best to keep your mouth shut. Some secrets are best left unspoken.

↠  word count: 5,926

↠ pairing: todoroki touya x reader, takami keigo x reader, geten x reader

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, college/dark web au, DARK CONTENT, yandere! dabi, bullying, stalking, blood, mention of drugging, noncon touching, breaking and entering

series masterlist

“Do we really have to be here?” You grumbled to your blonde companion.

In front of you, a house party bellowed through the streets with trashy music. The booming bass almost blew out your eardrums and you weren’t even inside, yet. Standing on the sideway right before the entrance, you were reluctant to walk further into the home.

A few stragglers sat on the lawn, sipping out of disposable cups, obviously filled to the brim with cheap alcohol. What everyone really wanted was inside. Which only filled you with dread. A party filled with coked out college students only meant one thing: Dabi and Keigo were inside. Though Toga promised you, this party wasn’t like that.

Speaking of the girl, she threaded her arm through yours and tugged you closer to her chest. “Yes, we do! I’m so sick of you rotting away in your dorm. Ayame is complaining about you.”

“Of course, she is,” You rolled your eyes at Toga’s lame attempt to convince you.

Sensing you were about to run away, she squeezed you tighter—she sure was strong for such a small girl, “It’s too late to change your mind, now. Let’s go, it will be fun!”

She’s right, you would have to just grit your teeth and try to enjoy yourself as much as possible. You could only hope neither of those men were there, but you knew not to hold your breath. A party meant profit as if Dabi and Keigo didn’t already have the money.

With you in tow, Toga speed-walked into the front door. You grimaced when you heard one of the men wolf-whistle at you two as you passed them on the lawn. Before you could make a biting remark, Toga shoved into the door. You coughed and waved your hand in front of your face. Smoke permeated around the house, a strong mix of weed and tobacco.

The room’s illuminated with low-lights and a few multi-colored disco balls. You hated frat boys with a burning passion. Crossing through a hallway, you were already met with couples making out against the wall. The further you went, you into a kitchen where people were trying to make drinks or pigging out on snacks. Before you could reach for something to drink—you were going to need it if you were going to stay long—Toga pulled you into the living room.

There sat on the couches was the old friend group, or at least to you. Toga still hung out with them, but you were very much outcasted after the break-up. If they only knew what really happened.

From what you could see Mirko and Shigaraki sitting next to each other, no one else from the group. That made you sag at least a little bit. You could deal with Mirko if Shigaraki and Toga were with you. While Toga wholeheartedly defended you, Shigaraki neutral, the rest of the group—Mirko, Keigo and Bubaigawara—didn’t particularly like you anymore.

“Hey, guys!” Toga greet with a wide smile, her sharp canines on display.

“Yo,” Mirko replied back with a lazy grin. It slightly dropped when seeing you but she didn’t say anything.

Shigaraki merely nodded his head, but otherwise kept to himself, sipping from his own cup.

Skipping over, Toga brought you with her and almost sat on the spot next to Shigaraki, but he tugged you down onto the empty spot next to him. Pouting, Toga sat on the arm of the couch instead.

“Meany,” She grumbled to the older man.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

At that she fake retched multiple times while you giggled. Shigaraki pinched you in retaliation.

You slapped his hand away, “Ouch! I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re being annoying like her. I made you sit here so I didn’t have to deal with her-”

“Hey!”

He glared at her and continued, “But I forgot you guys were two peas in a pod.”

Toga slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned down so her cheek pressed against yours, “And don’t you forget it!”

“So we are all buddy-buddy with the snitch now?” Mirko asked with a raised brow, peering over from Shigaraki’s form.

Toga’s happy expression quickly fell to a deepset scowl, “If you want to join the Y/n hate club, go hang out with Dabi and Hawks.”

“I was trying to, but you guys had to come over here. Why don’t you take the hint?”

Mirko usually wasn’t such a bitch. If anything she would do anything to stand up for a fellow girl, but you got between her and her precious molly by ratting out Dabi. So anything she said, you took with a grain of salt. She’s definitely at the bottom of your list of people to worry about.

Though, none of that mattered when her words confirmed your worst fear. You were too naive to believe none of them would be here. Panicking, you looked through the crowd of people for a spec of either man. Lately, where one was the other soon followed.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Shigaraki snarked, “Thanks to Daddy’s money Dabi isn’t in jail anymore so you can be coked up as much as you want again.”

“Excuse you, I take molly not coke.”

“Oh yeah like that makes you so much more morally superior,” He sniped.

Huffing, Mirko crossed her arms, “As if you aren’t high off your ass right now.”

“I gotta be to deal with your ass.”

“I need a fucking drink,” You said, having enough of their bickering.

It’s good to know they both never changed. Mirko really only hung out with the group because of Keigo so she frequently got on Shigaraki’s nerves. Though, his constant snark didn’t really help him in the making friends department.

The group really started with Dabi and Keigo’s friendship. Those two had been thick as thieves since middle school. Mutual benefit really does form a strong bond.

Then came Shigaraki, Toga and Jin. Shigaraki met Dabi towards the end of high school, and since he was acquainted with Toga, she followed along. And where Toga went, Jin soon followed. The two of them bonded over being abandoned by the system so when Jin turned eighteen, he took in eleven year old Toga.

Mirko didn’t come in until she met Keigo during her second year of college. You were the last to join. About two years later you joined when you met everyone through Dabi. At first you were known as his girl, but when Toga found out you two were the same age, she welcomed you in. In no time you found a small family with all its dysfunctions. Only for it to quickly burn to ashes a year later.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you got off your seat much to Toga’s protests.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Her voice tittered on concern.

You waved her off, “I’ve got it. I’ll get you a drink too.”

“Get me one, too!” Mirko yelled to you but you flipped her off over your shoulder.

You didn’t care to listen to how she laughed as you walked further into the crowd. As the night grew darker, the party picked up. Around the nicely furnished kitchen, people surrounded the counter stack with bottles of alcohol and juice. Skipping over the fruity drinks, you looked for any cans of beer or preferably something that didn’t taste like piss. A can was easier to cover with your hand than a cup. Less likely to get roofied. You didn’t trust frat boys as far as you could throw them.

Standing on your tip-toes to see over the heads hoarding the counter, your heart dropped. Leaning on the wall across from you stood Dabi. He seemed deep in conversation with a pretty girl, a sleazy smile twisted on his face.

You could only hope he finally moved on, but no, you spotted the tiny baggy filled with white powder dangling between his fingers. Taking the time to admire him, he didn’t look any different from the past couple weeks you had avoided him. His hair still a deep black, tattoos covering most of his skin. The snake bites caught in the low light, winking at you.

Falling back on your heels, Dabi noticed you amongst the crowd. The smile on his face slipped into something darker, like a wolf catching a rabbit, teeth all bared.

“Fuck,” You seethed to yourself.

Stumbling backwards, you watched Dabi tell the girl something. Her disappointed expression spoke volumes. Whipping around, you stumbled through the thickened gaggle of party-goers. Instantly, you looked to the couch to get help from Toga and Shigaraki, but instead of them, a new couple were cuddling close.

Redirecting yourself, you raced through a hallway and raced through the stairwell. More people crowded the stairs, but you pushed past them. Angry shouts followed you, but you didn’t care. There’s a banister, you raced over, catching the eye of Keigo still on the first floor.

You went down a more secluded hallway and ripped open the door closest to you. The door revealed an empty bathroom. Slamming it closed, you shoved your body against the door. Gripping the knob, you sagged against the slab of wood.

A shriek pierced through the still air. Your eyes snapped to make eye contact with yourself through the mirror. Another bang had you yelp again.

“That’s where you been, doll. Hiding from me, hmm?” Dabi’s muffled voice came from the other side.

Scrambling to the knob, your hand frantically felt for a button. You were out of luck. There’s no lock.

When you don’t respond to him, he banged against the door harder. The knob twisted in your own grasp, and you reached both hands over to stop him from opening the door.

“Don’t fucking make me break in there, you’re already in deep shit, princess. Let's do this the nice way.” He breathed into the door. Dabi didn’t shout as he uttered those words, but you heard him well enough.

“Fuck you!”

You screamed again when he hit the door right where your head was. He tried more frantically to twist the knob open.

“Fine! Be a bitch.”

The jiggling of metal filled the small room. Another yelp left you when he opened the door a crack. Slamming your shoulder against the wood, you didn’t let him open another inch. Slipping down, you fell on your ass. Planting your feet against the sink cabinets in front of you, you slouched down to be a human door wedge.

You stifled a shriek as the door shook from him throwing his shoulder against it. He repeatedly threw his body weight against the wood. The hinges creaked with the force.

“Stop being a brat, and open the door for daddy, baby. I swear we can put this behind us,” He cooed through labored breaths.

“You’re insane!” You screeched back, turning your head so he heard you better.

He upped his banging at your insult. Your body thumped with each pound and kick.

You knew you could only hold him off for so long, so your eyes bounced around the room for anything to defend yourself with. Your legs already vibrated from strain.

“What’s going on here?” Another voice joined you two.

Dabi finally took a break to address Keigo. Through the door, you listened closely, thoroughly screwed.

“She locked me out.”

“You do know the door doesn’t lock, right?” You can taste the snark dripping off his tongue.

“No shit,” Dabi seethed, “She jammed the door closed.”

Keigo gave an impressed whistle, “The little snitch really doesn’t want to be near you, huh? Must be the ugly mug.”

“Are you done?”

His boyish laugh sent a shudder through your body, “Don’t be so pissy. I’ll help you.”

On top of the counter sat a hair dryer forgotten and not plugged in. You didn’t stop staring at it as both Keigo and Dabi slammed against the door. From the force, you were pushed forward, the door opening a crack. You tried to push back, but an arm got in the way.

Knowing you were done for, you scrambled onto your feet, and pushed your back against the counter edge. You hid the dryer behind you, slipping it down so he couldn’t see it through the mirror, hand ready to grab the handle.

The door swung open so hard, it smacked against the wall before swinging back around. Keigo caught it with his hand, the slap causing you to jump. Dabi stood off to the side, letting Keigo take the reins to bring you back to him.

“Where have you been hiding, we missed you, Y/n,” Keigo smiled wide. That same douchey grin he used to get his way.

He sauntered further into the room, ready to corner you, leaving you nowhere to run. As he went to grab your arm, you pulled the dryer from behind you and aimed.

Crack!

“Fuck!” Keigo growled as he grabbed his nose. Blood flowed out like a waterfall. Red staining his lower face, hands and the floor it dripped onto.

Wasting no time, you dropped the dryer and raced out the room. Not letting Dabi be able to catch a stray arm, you booked it back into the party. Your hands shook as you refused to turn behind you, being weaker than Orpheus.

Dabi watched on as you flew by him and away from his view. Keigo came out of the room, still clutching his bruising and bleeding nose. The dirty blond went to follow you, but Dabi grabbed him by his arm.

“What the fuck, man?” Keigo questioned him, blinking through his teary eyes. Getting hit in the face hurt like a motherfucker.

A smirk danced on Dabi’s face as if he’s amused, but his crazed, blown out pupils told Keigo otherwise.

“She knows how to dig her hole deeper. Don’t worry, birdbrain, we’ll get her back for that in due time.”

Humming to yourself with your hands in your pockets, you tried to give off an air of aloofness. Tucked in your palm, a knife ready to be used. You knew these streets well, frequenting the shadier parts of town for over a year now. The streets themself were safe, but since the party you refused to walk around unarmed.

Dabi lurked in every corner, shrouded in shadow, waiting to get the jump on you. Or at least that’s what your paranoid brain told you. Plus Keigo being in on Dabi’s warpath to get his vengeance didn’t comfort you at all.

Warm hued lights danced across your face as the sun slipped down the purpling sky. The blaring street signs illuminated the darkening alleyways. People were sporadically spaced among the different shops, cigarettes clinging to their lips. Mainly older men with tattoos crowded the stores. Despite the implications of who they were, you didn’t feel scared.

Gangsters were the least of your worries.

Turning left, you entered a dead end alley with a shop tucked into the corner. Soft light poured in from the window onto the shiny pavement. No sign indicated who or what occupied this tiny corner.

Opening the creaky sliding door, a bell rang into the cramped space. The desk to the left of the door sat empty of the man running the place. At the sound of the door shutting closed, you heard some clattering somewhere in one of the back rooms. You raised your eyebrow when a different voice than you were expecting called out for you to wait.

Instead of a man with a head of fully grey hair, circle sunglasses and a sleazy smile, out came one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Where’s Giran?”

“Why the fuck are you here?”

Both of you said at the same time.

Neither of you laughed as you stared at each other. You didn’t hold a lot of resentment for the man, but most of it had to do with how close he’s to Toga. It stung what side he picked after everything.

“Where’s Giran, Bubaigawara?” You repeated yourself.

The older man crossed his arms, obviously uncomfortable. “He’s somewhere around here. He’s doing a deal!” The truth slipped out while his conflicting voices argued with each other.

Mimicking his stance, you hugged your arms to you. “Well do you know when he’ll be back? I was supposed to get tatted by him.”

“I can do it. Well, that’s too bad, bitch!”

Ignoring the second part, you asked, “Are you sure?”

“Fuck off! Yeah, let's go.” He beckons you over his shoulder.

Following the man into one of the rooms through the door. He closed it silently and starting look around for cleaning supplies. You watched him wipe down the chair.

“Where have you been? Who cares!” Bubaigawara asked.

Absent-mindedly, you answered him, “Just at school. Still stuck in the dorms, trying to save up to get an apartment. Same old bullshit.”

Standing in the middle of the room, you glanced around. You hadn’t been here in months and nothing changed.

The room was tiled with a dark, cheap material and the wallpaper peeling from the corners. Hung on the wall were different frames of Buddha, Jesus and various sizes of crosses. Giran surely wasn’t a religious man, but he liked the irony.

Under the frames sat the desk that looked more like a tool box than anything else. The dark metal drawers lined with various tattoo guns, ink and needles.

Not too long ago Dabi had been the one to show you the shop. Three months into the relationship you had let him tattoo you. It wasn’t that good as he wasn’t a tattoo artist, but you still loved the tiny skull he imprinted into your inner wrist. Or you once did. Anytime you look at it now, a concoction of emotions swirl in your stomach. You debated getting it covered up, but you let it serve as a reminder. Though you knew the real reason, you're scared of what he would do if you got rid of it.

Bubaigawara cleared his throat to pull you from your thoughts. He had everything set up and you climbed onto the reclining, black chair. Sitting in his stool, it creaked under his weight.

“So what did you want?”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and flipped it open. A new message from an unknown number greeted you.

you done ignoring me? answer me or else you won’t like what i’ll do

from: unknown

sent 6:56 PM

Rapidly deleting the message, you pull up the image you saved. Bubaigawara leaned in closer and squinted at the piece you wanted.

“Where do you want it?”

You bring your right leg up and tug your thigh high down to show the space above your knee.

He nodded in understanding and got to work. Slumping into the cushions, you closed your eyes and sank into the buzzing of the gun. You barely flinched when the needle pierced the fragile skin.

Your phone vibrating pulled you from your stupor. Flipping it back open, the number texted you again.

i can’t wait to break you y/n

from: unknown

sent 7:11 PM

Furrowing your brow, you stared at the text harder. Dabi rarely called you by your first name unless he’s being serious. Staring intensely at the numbers, you scoffed at the realization. You thought you blocked him ages ago.

dabi wouldn’t be happy knowing ur texting me keigo

from: snitch

sent 7:12 PM

not as unhappy he will be when you answered me instead of him

from: unknown

sent 7:12 PM

get bent

from: snitch

sent 7:13 PM

talk big game when it’s over a screen. don’t worry you’ll learn soon can’t wait to see you sweetheart

from: unknown

sent 7:13 PM

Uneasy, you swiftly blocked his number as well and placed your phone down. Staring up at the ceiling, you followed the water damage lining the yellowing plaster.

“What’s that face for? I don’t care!”

Turning your head, you looked at the man in front of you. His thick arms bulged as he shaded his work. Face serene, while he tattooed was the only time Bubaigawara’s raging mind stayed silent.

“It’s nothing.” You waved him off. He wouldn’t get it.

“Tell me.” His tone serious. He rarely showed his age, always very childish in his mannerisms, but times like these, you remember he did take care of Toga at some point.

Gulping, you chose your words carefully. “Dabi’s back.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “Yeah.”

“You know?”

“Where do you think he’s staying?”

This made you jolt up and rip your thigh away from him. “Is he here? I-I thought he went back home. Like his dad put him on house arrest.”

“You know for a fact he would rather go to jail again than ever go back there.” He grabbed your thigh and went back to finishing the piece.

“Jin, you didn’t answer me. Is he here?” Your lip wobbled.

At you calling him by his first name, he looked up at you. “No. Yes!”

“Okay,” You sagged into the chair once more and clutched your hands to your chest. Staring at the door, you watched in apprehension of your ex walking in at any moment.

Bubaigawara continued his work, dipping back into the ink every once in a while. His warm palm on your skin burned. You didn’t want him or anyone to touch you. You were stupid to come back here. Of course Dabi would stay in the shop, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Though, now you know to avoid this area.

The silence didn’t last long when he spoke up again. “So is Dabi texting you? He’s real upset, ya know?”

“Mind your business,” You snapped, fear overriding your system.

“You hurt my friend.”

You shook your head at his ignorance. “No, he hurt me. You don’t even know a quarter of what happened. Instead of you guys blaming me for Dabi’s actions, open your fucking eyes.”

“You put him in jail, why? Because you guys got into a spat?”

A laugh broke from your chest, “So that’s what he’s telling everyone what happened. Cool, good to know. Are we done?”

He took the gun from your skin and wiped off the excess ink and plasma. He properly wrapped it as your other leg bobbed up and down.

“Yeah, we’re done.”

“Thanks.” You roughly shoved your thigh high back over your thigh and stomped out of the room.

Slamming the sliding door open and shutting it closed just as aggressively, you flipped up your phone. Dialing Geten, he answered after one ring.

“Come get me, please?”

Bubaigawara watched you stomp out, confused. He didn’t get you or the situation at all. Dabi told him you were being overdramatic and lied to the cops to get him in trouble. Yet, you seemed terrified knowing Dabi could be in the shop. He dismissed it as you not wanting to confront the fact you lied and snitched on your boyfriend, and everyone else in the group.

He finished cleaning and breaking everything down and went back to the front. Moonlight streamed in from the windows. Glancing at the clock, it had been nearing midnight. The time had passed a lot faster than he thought.

After tattooing you, he’d been in his own head for too long. Unanswered questions swirling in his head. He would have to talk to Toga later. Afterall she had sided with you despite everyone else being pissed, saved for Shigaraki who didn’t care.

Reaching for the binder to calculate earnings and funds, the door had opened with a bang. In came Dabi with a sour look on his face. Ripping off his jacket, he half-hazardly threw it on a stray chair.

“I’m going to kill her,” Dabi muttered under his breath.

“Are you talking about Y/n? What crawled up your ass!”

Dabi glowered at him, suspicious, “What about it?”

“You’re so pissy! She seems to be why you have been in a bad mood since you came back,” Bubaigawara shrugged.

“No fucking shit she has been. The bitch has been avoiding me. I just want to talk, but she acts like I’m going to hurt her or something.”

The older man thought for a moment, “Well she was just here and told me she’s still at the dorms. Maybe you can talk to her there. Or stop bitching about her!”

A grin broke out on his visage, the burn scar on his cheek dimpling. He leaned over the counter and condescendingly patted Bubaigawara’s face. “You not being all there really works wonders. Thanks for the info.”

Dabi walked back out of the shop, waving over his shoulder.

Bubaigawara blinked, a foreboding feeling that he did in fact do something stupid clung to him.

Curled up on your bed, your finger traced over the healing tattoo through the saran wrap and your thigh high. The sun hung high in the sky, but the muted light barely penetrated the blanket thrown over your head. After Geten had picked you up from the parlor your anxiety had only skyrocketed.

You had stayed the night, but you decided to come back to the dorms afterwards. Lying through your teeth, you told Geten you didn’t want to be late for any more classes. You both knew you were fibbing. You didn’t show up to your classes today. Going straight to your room, you ignored Ayame’s snark and launched yourself on your bed. It’s been hours and you still haven't moved.

Sleep couldn’t even claim you. The paranoia that Dabi would find you shot your system. From outside your cotton cocoon, your phone buzzed multiple times. You couldn’t muster up the courage to read the messages. They were most likely Geten and Toga checking up on you, but deep down you knew Dabi wouldn’t be easily curved with being blocked.

Your phone started to ring with a bubbly tone. Groaning, your hand shot out from the blanket and felt around the sheets until you grabbed the tiny device. Dragging it under with you, you flinched from the screen piercing your eyes. You saw Geten was calling.

“Hi,” You meekly answered.

“How’s my girl doing?”

You shrugged while mumbling a quick, “I don’t know.”

Geten’s silent for a second before responding, “I’m going to come pick you up. I don’t like leaving you alone especially since you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot right now and I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe from the beginning?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Thanks asshole, why didn’t I think of that.”

“Anytime. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

The call ended with a click.

With an enormous sigh, you dropped your phone and curled further upon yourself. Working up the courage to pick yourself up from your tiny pity party, you hear the door knob turn.

Your face pinched in confusion. Ten minutes surely haven’t passed. The door opened and closed with an extra click. Whoever came in, locked the door.

A concoction of fear and perplexion overtook your system.

Peeling the blanket off, you called out, “Geten?”

A scream pierced through your chest at the sight of black instead of white hair. Dabi does nothing to stop your screech and stands by the door with crossed arms.

Crawling further up the bed, you clutched onto your blanket like a pathetic child.

“How did you get in here?” Your breathing hitched and your shoulders bounced with every inhale.

“Passed your roommate in the hallway,” He shrugged. “What a bitch, right? Didn’t even question who was asking.”

He unfortunately took the words right out of your mouth. But you couldn’t really blame her. How was she supposed to know your crazy ex’s actively stalking you.

“Get out, Dabi,” You tried to sound firm but even you could hear how your voice wobbled.

He started walking closer until his knee leaned on the side of the bed. Pulling the blanket to the side, he grabbed your calf and dragged you further down the bed. Screeching, you tried to kick him away, but he pressed further into the muscle.

Propping his body over yours with a hand by your head, he engulfed his form with yours. With your free hands, you pushed and hit his chest.

“Get off! Get off me!” You screamed and thrashed your head side to side.

With clenched eyes, the world around you blended into that damp alleyway. Smoke from both the gun and fire stuff their way into your airways until all you can taste is ash.

Dabi gripped your cheeks and shook your head with vigor. Blinking through the tears, you see his indignant expression above you. Toggling onto his baggy shirt, you both wanted to pull him close and as far away as you could.

“What the fuck is up with you?”

“G-get,” You gulped to suck in more air, “get away from me.”

He dug his fingers further into your mandible, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You owe me an explanation.”

“I think putting your ass in jail is enough of an explanation. What do you want from me?”

“I want to know why my girlfriend-”

“I’m not your girlfriend!”

The hand on your jaw trailed down to wrap around your neck instead. No pressure was put, but the threat very much apparent.

“I forgot about your new favorite pass time, that fucking albino loser.” Malice dripped from his tongue, “You lie to him too?”

Guilt strewn across your face at the jab. “Dabi, look, you know I’m so-”

“You don’t get to be sorry after the bullshit you have pulled.” The veins on his hand bulged as it absentmindedly tightened around your throat further.

“Geten is going to be here soon, so you better leave,” You grasped for anything to get him off you.

Dabi laughed with a deep husky tone, “You think that prick scares me? I would be more worried about yourself if he finds you in such a compromising position with your ex.”

Kicking up a fuss again, you tried to kick him but he placed his hand under your thigh and brought your knee to your chest. The skirt you were wearing hiked up to show your black and pink skull panties.

Crawling further upon you, he straddled your free leg so your whole body besides your hands were trapped under him. Nudging his knee closer to your exposed core, he dug into your slit but didn’t move. You fought the urge to squirm as you would only grind on his leg, falling right into the palm of his hand.

Completely frozen, Dabi took advantage of your petrified state and tucked a finger under your right thigh high and pulled it down. His warm fingers dragged down your slowly exposed skin until the sock sat at your ankle. Leg in tHE air, he nosed at your calf until he hit a particular spot. There, sat on the middle of your calf a scar the size of a quarter. Barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

Chills ran down your spine when Dabi kissed the old wound. The skin long since healed over and discolored. The chunk of skin and muscle gone from your calf bound you together better than any chain or rope could.

“There’s no one in this world that will love you like I do. This,” He dug his thumb into the scar, “Right here is proof of my love.”

What a load of bullshit, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. What he did wasn’t love, it was misdirected anger and obsession. Anything he did was never for you, but himself.

A knock on the door had both you and Dabi snap your attention towards the person behind it. You held your breath, praying it wasn’t Geten.

“Y/n, I forgot my keys!” Ayame called out.

Your ex turned back towards you as you opened your mouth to scream. The hand on your neck, shoved two fingers down your throat. A wet, ugly gag echoed in the space between you two.

“Scream and I’ll beat your ass bloody,” He sneered, nose to nose.

Tears bubbling over, you nodded in agreement and clutched onto his wrists. Dabi kept his focus on your mouth, not caring Ayame kept pounding on the door. Dragging his fingers an inch back, he thrusted them back in but more gentle. This time you didn’t gag but your throat did tighten.

“Fuck, there’s my good girl,” He sighed into you.

With firm strokes, he fucked his fingers in and out of you. Drool dripped down from his fingers and your lips, caking your chin. Your eyes went hazy as you were swallowed by bright blues, him never breaking eye contact.

The buzzing of your phone broke you from your trance. Dabi pulled his fingers from your mouth and brought them to his own. Sticking his pierced tongue out, he licked and sucked your saliva off his fingers.

Whipping the excess wetness on his pants, he grabbed for your phone before you could protest.

“Looks like your boyfriend is here.”

He dangled your phone in front of your face to see the message. You reached out to swipe the phone but he pulled the phone back and far above you.

“Dabi, please!”

“He can wait.”

“No, he’ll get suspicious and come up here and-”

He flung your phone onto the floor and got back into your face, “Why do you care what that reject thinks, you’re mine.”

“No I’m not! When will you get that through your thick fucking skull.”

“And when will you get it through yours that you belong to me! You put me away to serve time and I still came back. You’re gonna have to kill me to get rid of me for good.”

His nostrils flared while he stared down at you with such contempt. Every word he said, he meant. Like a cockroach he would survive and crawl his way back to you.

“I need to go,” You tried to reason.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Forcing you back onto the bed, he dropped your leg to grip your shoulders. Pinning your hips down with his. With one hand, he pulled your shirt to the side. Licking the exposed skin of your neck, he nibbled and sucked at the skin.

“Stop, you’ll leave a mark,” You whined as you kicked your legs out.

The flesh tingled as his teeth scraped against it. His lips did not leave anything untouched.

Nosing up to your ear, he said, “That’s the point.”

With more fervor you bucked your hips to throw him over, but he stayed steady. Likened to a rabid animal, Dabi bit into your neck hard to tame your thrashing. Your breath left you with piercing pain. Luckily he didn’t break skin.

Satisfied, he pulled away and examined his artwork. There was no hiding the bruises littering the side of your neck. Getting up and off you, Dabi blatantly adjusted the hard-on in his pants.

Pulling yourself up, you watched him flick open the lock. Looking over his shoulder, a wide smirk stretched over his burnt skin at your pathetic form. He pointed to the side of his neck.

“Have fun explaining that to your little boyfriend.”

You slapped a hand over your neck and flinched at the raw skin. Cackling, he slammed the door closed, leaving you in your shame. 

[xo-cori]

it’s all a game to me anyway (II)

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: pining after athletes is never a good idea. that is, unless you’re good at getting what you want.

warnings: smut (MDNI), choking if you squint, praise kink, jesse being an ally

a/n: y’alllll this is ass but i got sm requests for a part 2. also @feelsoseencantdream wanted me to tag them so i’m thinking of making a taglist??? lmk if you wanna be added 😈 ALSO PSA!!! don’t sleep w anybody if you aren’t 100% sure that they’re CLEAN ok thx

The very next day, you follow your usual routine. Daydream through all of your classes until you can finally start your venture towards the sports building, phone on silent with one headphone in your ear. However, the thrumming of your heart only drowns out the music, and it’s an unfamiliar feeling; the way your nerves are getting the best of you, the way you can only hope to be the one in charge here.

But, your nerves turn out to be right.

When you open the door to the rink that is usually filled with people at this time of day, you’re surprised to see that Abby is sitting there alone on the first bleacher. She doesn’t have on her usual hockey get-up; rather, she wears a grey hoodie and sweatpants, which tells you that she isn’t here to practice. Instead, she repeatedly runs a sharpener over the blade of one of her skates.

“Looking for someone?” She wonders, not even sparing a glance in your direction.

You cross your arms, opting to ignore her question and spare yourself the embarrassment. “No practice today?”

“Got cancelled. Coach’s daughter has a stomach bug,” she huffs, “besides, I think we all could use a day off.”

“Oh.” You reply, a small amount of anxiety creeping its way into your body. You step forward to take a seat a few inches away from her. “But you came here anyways? Why?”

Abby finally looks up from her skate and raises an eyebrow at you. “Why did you?”

This is a dynamic you aren’t used to. Being questioned like this without having anything snarky to say in response; it’s almost like Abby has the ability to steal the words from your mouth before you can even come up with them. “You know why.” You say.

She gestures to the empty rink. “No, not really. I figured you’d leave once you realized that there’s no one here to watch.”

“I’m here because you started something without finishing it.” You tell her, sternly, but it only makes her smile in amusement.

“Without finishing you, you mean.” She points out. “There’s cameras here. You, of all people, should know that.”

“We’ll go to the locker room again,” you reach out to grab her hand. “We can–”

“No.” Abby shuts you down immediately, though she doesn’t retract her hand from your grip. She lets you run your thumbs over her calloused palm and pretends not to notice the way it makes goosebumps rise across her arms; chalks it up to how damn cold it is in there. “Give me your phone.”

You tilt your head, confused, but you do what she says with a bit of hesitance. She takes your phone and goes to your contacts, adding her own number and name before giving it back to you. “I have to go. Text me your dorm number.”

Then, she stands up without another word and heads toward the door, leaving you in the same position you’d found yourself in the night before; this time, though, there’s hope. There’s an implication that she’ll finish what she started after all. You make sure to leave out the back door.

“Dina!” You call as you unlock the door to your room, seeing your roommate perk up from the couch. As per usual, her boyfriend, Jesse is laying with his feet kicked up on the armrest and his head in her lap.

She smiles when she sees you, quickly grabbing the remote to pause their movie. “What’s up, babe? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

A cheesy smile makes its way onto your face. “Literally nothing is wrong right now, because guess who’s coming over.”

Dina thinks for a moment, nose scrunched in concentration seeing as there’s lots of possibilities. But, the fact that she’s never seen you this excited about a girl before is enough of a hint as to who the lucky lady is. She pushes Jesse off of her and shoots up from her seat. “Abby?! No fucking way!”

You nod excitedly. “Yes fucking way! I don’t know when, or why, but–”

“Wait, since when is she into girls? Wasn’t she just with Owen?” Dina puts a hand on her hip, obviously just as confused as you.

“They broke up, but… if I was with Owen, I’d probably switch sides, too.” You shrug. “Either way, she’s coming tonight.”

“Which Abby?” Jesse asks, sitting up on the couch to look at you. “You’re acting all lovey-dovey, so I’m gonna assume she’s a good catch.”

You roll your eyes. “Come on, you know which Abby. Abby Anderson, captain of the hockey team? Six feet of pure muscle?”

Suddenly, Jesse seems just as invested in this conversation as you and Dina. “Jesus Christ, how’d you pull her?” He jokes, though you know it’s a genuine question– anybody involved in your university’s gossip knows that Abby hates hook-ups, and anyone who shoots their shot with her usually just makes a fool of themselves. Not you, though. You aren’t sure why but you’re hoping to find out.

“I don’t know! I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?” You place a hand over your rapidly beating heart.

Dina strolls over to you and grabs your shoulder. “Because you’ve been trying to scoop her up for, like, three months now. It’s weird to see you all amped up, but I don’t blame you, honestly. She’s intimidating and hot.”

“I’m literally sitting right here,” Jesse reminds her.

“Not for long, hopefully.” You look up at Dina. “You guys can do me a solid and finish your movie at Jesse’s place, right? Please?”

“Two steps ahead of you, sugar. I’m not waiting around for Anderson to show up. She’s… well, like I said, she’s intimidating.” Dina grabs Jesse’s car keys from the kitchen counter, which is Jesse’s cue to finally get off of the couch.

“Agreed,” he shakes his head, “I’ve seen her on that rink once and I can tell she’s not to be fucked with.”

You let out a sigh, relieved that this last-minute arrangement is already going smoothly. “Oh my god, thank you,” you say as Dina places her hands on your shoulders so that she can look into your eyes.

“Don’t have too much fun, you hear me? The last thing we need is a noise complaint.” She instructs you, then leans in to give you a peck on the forehead. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” You grumble under your breath. Jesse waves a goodbye before they both head to the door, opening it and promptly freezing.

You lean forward to see that Abby is already standing right there.

“Oh. Hey,” Dina says, “uh, we were just leaving.”

Jesse smiles awkwardly while Dina grabs his wrist and ushers him out the door. Abby steps inside, head tilted over her shoulder to watch the couple speed-walk down the hallway before she shuts the door. “You seriously shoo’d your roommate away?”

“No,” you lie, “they… she was already going to his place tonight.”

She just stares at you, obviously not buying it. “Something tells me that isn’t true.”

You cross your arms. “Whatever. Why did you come here, anyways?”

Abby sighs as she walks forward and glances around, not yet directly toward you, almost like she’s surveying the area. As she gets closer, you catch a whiff of the familiar scent of her shampoo; pine and vanilla, already clouding your senses with desire. Your need for her has become primal. It’s something deep inside of you that has no beginning or end, no rhyme and no reason. “You don’t really need me to answer that question, do you?” She scoffs. “I thought I made it pretty clear.”

You look down at your feet. “Still would be nice to hear you say it.”

With the distance between you down to only a couple of inches, Abby’s standing in front of you in no time, her undivided attention now completely on you. You feel so small, and you kind of like it.

“What do you want me to say?” She shrugs. This time, though, there’s no underlying mockery in her voice. It’s a genuine question that gives you a sense of security. You gaze into her ocean blue eyes, cursing yourself for the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Maybe that I didn’t make myself look dumb yesterday when I told you how much I wanted you,” you answer, “and that you feel the same way.”

Abby tilts her head. “So, you expect me to say that I want you?”

“Kind of.” You mumble.

“Hm,” she leans back a bit, seemingly deep in thought for a moment (though her eyes don’t leave yours once). “My ego’s a little too big for that, but I’d rather just show you.”

You’re given no time to reply before you find yourself in the same position as the night before, with Abby grabbing hold of your waist and lifting you up to sit you down on the kitchen table. You spread your legs so she can stand between them as her lips finally meet yours, the show of strength making you melt beneath her.

This kiss is nothing like the last; carnal, sure, but there’s a hunger inside it and a strange sense of urgency, as if the world is ending and she needs to have you now. Her tongue effortlessly slides against yours and, unlike last time, there’s no battle for dominance. You submit to her without hesitation.

Abby, on the other hand– you’d have no idea how hard she’s trying to keep it together. You’re not exactly the type of person she could see herself falling for. She has a reputation to upkeep, which just so happens to be the complete opposite of yours. If anybody were to even speak both of your names in the same sentence, it could ruin her, leave her image tarnished while you move onto the next girl.

That doesn’t stop her, though. Now that she knows how it feels to kiss you, to touch you, to hear you beg for more, she doesn’t think anything could stop her.

You reach down to grab hold of her wrist, guiding her hand up to its rightful spot on your throat, and she wastes no time pressing her fingers down on the sides of your neck. Your mouth falls open with a gasp, thighs tightening around her waist. She rears back to look at you. “So fucking demanding.” She laughs.

“Just want you to touch me,” you huff out, voice low and shaky. “You left me hanging, Abby.”

“Because I wasn’t gonna fuck you in a locker room.” She says.

You smile, a mischievous glimmer in your half-lidded eyes. “But you’ll fuck me here?”

Abby smiles, too. “That’s the plan.”

She reaches down to the bottom of your sweater to pull it up over your head, throwing it behind her on the floor somewhere. It suddenly becomes very obvious that you’d been counting on getting lucky– you didn’t even bother putting on a bra.

Her eyes fall onto your chest and she stares shamelessly. “Really?”

Instead of responding, this time, you grab her wrists again and use the leverage to place her hands over both of your breasts. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, you can still see the way her pupils dilate once her palms meet your soft skin. She gently squeezes down, just once to test the waters, but you can tell from that action alone just how inexperienced she is with other women.

You place your hands over hers, making her squeeze again. Her breathing becomes heavy and her eyes become curious. She watches the way your skin moves between her fingers, beckoning her to explore.

Abby moves down to your neck, pressing hot kisses all over the marks she’d made the night before, licking over each bite mark that had already began to fade. You hadn’t even tried to cover them up. This only means something to her because she’d seen you walking around campus in those low-cut tank tops, a concoction of makeup smothered over your neck to cover just a few hickies, though they’d remain visible to a trained eye.

She bends down to slip one of your nipples into her mouth, suckling and drooling as you let out soft whimpers of approval. You bring a hand to grip the edge of the table whilst the other snakes up to the back of her head, beneath her long braid so you can tug at the roots of her hair. Each time your fingernails scratch at her scalp, she lets out a quiet moan, sending the most intoxicating vibrations right between your legs. From this new position, Abby can feel the growing warmth pressed against her abdomen, even more so when you subconsciously roll your hips into her. You’d do anything for some friction, and you already know that she’d let you.

After a few moments, you use the leverage you have on her head to pull her off of your chest, making her look up at you with those wanting eyes of hers. “Get down,” you hum, pulling her down by the hair so that her cheek is pressed into your thigh. “It’s like I told you yesterday– you know what I want.”

Now it’s Abby’s turn to find herself lost for words. Maybe it’s the way you’re looking down at her, or maybe the fact that she can already smell you and it’s making her mouth water.

Her hands drag down your waist until they find the waistband of your shorts, hooking her fingers into it so she can pull them down. Too slowly for your taste, but you’d never blame somebody for wanting to take their time with you. Your raise your hips from the table so that she can finally pull the last piece of clothing from your body, letting it fall past your ankles as she gets down onto her knees. “Oh, fuck me,” she mumbles mostly to herself.

She’d never need another confidence boost after this. Abby’s been in your apartment for maybe ten minutes, and you’re already soaked down to your thighs.

As a cue for her to get a move on, you lay your right leg onto her shoulder and tighten your grip in her hair. It’s a wordless gesture that tells her everything she needs to know.

The moan that leaves your mouth when she finally dives in is nothing less than pathetic.

What she lacks in experience, she makes up for in enthusiasm. She tries to recall what makes her feel good; tracing certain shapes with her tongue, licking you up and down until you’re practically gushing into her mouth. She swallows every last drop as she eats you like a woman starved.

Her hands grab onto your thighs, keeping them closed around her head. She’d never admit it, of course, but the way you tremble beneath her hands only riles her up more. Her lips wrap around your clit and she whimpers when she feels all ten of your fingers grab onto her hair, keeping her trapped right there despite the fact that she could easily break free if she wanted to. You revel in that power– knowing just how strong she is, knowing that she chooses to let you be stronger.

The heels of your feet dig into her shoulder blades as her strong hands do their best to hold you in place. Sparks of pleasure catch fire in your belly, the first tell that you aren’t going to last long. “Slow down,” you cry, but the sound of your voice all needy and soft just sends Abby into overdrive.

Her tongue attacks your clit, overwhelming you with the focused stimulation, causing your back to arch closer to her. Your head falls back as your eyes shut tightly, mindlessly whimpering and whining. She can feel your muscles tensing, trembling, like you don’t quite know what to do with yourself, and finds herself wondering how many other girls have had you in this same position. How many other girls have thought they’re the only one to make you feel this good, to make you bend to their every whim like this.

In your mind, though, you can only think of one thing; this odd feeling that Abby has awakened inside of you. A desire to be savored rather than devoured. She licks you up like you’re the last drop of water on Earth and you can’t even find it in yourself to mock her for it. There’s another feeling, a more physical one, quickly approaching. Embarrassingly quick, might you add.

Your hips jerk when you feel one of Abby’s fingers gently slip into you, exploring your warm, soft walls that clench around her so graciously. The arch in your back makes it easier to find that gummy spot which she wastes no time stroking with the rough pad of her finger. “How– f-fuck, how do you know all this?” You whine.

“Read some articles,” she mumbles right into you, sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

You let out a short-lived laugh at the thought of Abby fucking Anderson doing research on how to pleasure you properly. You can’t imagine any of her boyfriends had shown her how to take care of a woman, though, so it was only a matter of time– if it wasn’t for you, it would most likely be for herself. “Good girl,” you sigh, “I’m so close… oh, shit.”

The praise makes Abby moan into you as her dark blue eyes look up from between your legs to appreciate the sight. Your thighs are pressing against her rosy cheeks no matter how hard she tries to keep them open, your eyes struggling to stay open, your chest heaving up and down as you try (and fail) to preserve some stability in your breath.

Finally, that feeling in your belly reaches its peak when a second finger joins the first. Your head falls back and you put a hand over your mouth to muffle a quiet scream.

You make a point of not telling her, or even asking for permission, seeing as your trust had already been destroyed by her in this department the night before.

She seems to be in a very different mood tonight, though, because she doesn’t let up even after the tremors had stopped and the pleasure turns to pain; the good kind, where it’s all too much and there’s nothing you can do about it. You press your heel into her shoulder, pushing against the muscle there so she’d finally detach from you. A small gasp leaves your lips when she slowly pulls out her pruned fingers and looks up at you. The lower half of her face is completely covered in your cum, a sight you’re sure will be forever etched into your mind. How could you go back to normal after this? How could you pretend that anyone else compares?

You grab her jaw and bring her back up to your level, messily smashing your lips to hers as you hold onto her shoulder with your other hand. Much to her dismay, though, you’re quick to pull back.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve done that before, Anderson.” You say, albeit breathless.

“If you knew any better, you wouldn’t have let me do that.” She replies. You laugh, but you know she’s right, and you know she’s serious.

“But you liked it,” you implore, clearly searching for some sort of validation, which she quickly grants you in the form of a toothy smile; a genuine one that she just can’t wipe away.

“Maybe. How long do we have until your roommate gets back?” Her clammy hands come down to your waist, kneading the fat of your hips.

You raise an eyebrow. “Long enough. Why? You want a taste of your own medicine?”

The question is enough to visibly light up her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” she confirms with a shy voice like she didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life in under fifteen minutes. She’s sure her boxers are soaked right through the fabric, and honestly, she’s starting to think only you could bring the release she craves.

“Say no less. You gotta carry me, though,” you huff as you wrap your trembling thighs around her waist. “I can’t feel my legs.”

[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin - (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Unwelcome Advances, Kissing.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

JAKE POV

You absentmindedly swirl the skinny black straw around in your glass, scoffing to yourself as you wonder why the bartender put a stirrer into your Whiskey in the first place. It didn’t need to be stirred. You took it straight. It was fine on its own. Regardless, you sipped around the straw, letting the oaky liquor trickle down the back of your throat.

It wasn’t that you hated flying. It was more that you hated being alone with your thoughts for extended periods of time. Only your phone or a book to occupy your brain, but you knew that only worked for so long. Eventually you’d be left alone to tumble down into those dark, dusty memories that would torment you until you touched down in whatever city you were slated to be in that day. 

You hear Josh’s voice, instinctively causing you to turn your head, watching as he and Daniel stand in front of the camera recording whatever video the social media team planned for the day. You gracefully bowed out of that process all together, the team knowing not to approach you about an idea unless they knew it was something you would agree to. Usually though, it wasn’t. You turn to look at Sam on your right, seeing his gaze fixed upon the two of them. Both of you were now watching them as they played along with the skit, a huff of secondhand embarrassment sizzling through you as you sip from your glass. You’d never be caught dead doing that.

Fools. How is anyone ever supposed to take us seriously if all we show them is this? 

“You ready for another few months of this shit?” you mumble, your lips barely parting from the edge of your glass. 

Sam snickers as he turns back to you. “No. But that’s the job isn’t it?” he answers, swallowing down a gulp of beer, turning to look at you.

“I’m hitting that wall, too.” you answer, meeting the eyes of his girlfriend, Lyla. She sends you a sympathetic look as she squeezes Sam’s arm, giving him the little bit of reassurance he needs. “S’been a shit few weeks.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, instead pursing his lips together and slowly nodding his head as he peers down into his empty glass. Everyone knows better than to indulge you in your misery at this point, vowing not to pick at the festering wound. It’s still fresh and you’re still too volatile.

“Well, we’re going to your happy place, right?” Lyla asks with a hopeful smile. 

“Yeah, yeah we are,” you answer, taking another long pull of Whiskey. It was clear she didn’t know the reason it made you happy in the first place was because of the memories you made there with the person no longer around.

You turn your head ready to fall into those memories you’ve been pushing away for weeks, but fate has other plans as you spot your production team walking towards the boarding gate. They look frantic as they talk to each other, their eyes flicking up and down from their phones in their hands. Paul, your band Manager leads the group, finally slipping his phone into his pocket as he spots the gate. Next to him is Corrine, the Production Manager talking on the phone, balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she follows Paul. Wes, the Tour Manager continues to talk to Paul as they step into the waiting area, but behind him is someone you don’t recognize. 

She’s looking down at her phone, unaware that Wes has come to an abrupt stop in front of her. She runs into him just enough that it gets his attention, a profuse apology falling from her mouth. You laugh a little at the exchange, wondering who this girl is, and why she is with your team. She’s dressed like the rest of them, casual, but still comfortable for a day of travel. A slouchy white long sleeve shirt, a little too thin for the cold January weather, a brown leather backpack, worn and well loved, and a pair of olive green pants that hug her ass just a little too well for 10AM on a Thursday morning. You find yourself unable to pull your eyes away from her, a magnetizing feeling sucking you in the longer you look at her. She laughs with Wes, a bright smile lighting up her face causing an unwelcome twinge in your chest. It’s when she fully turns though, allowing you to see her whole face through the curtain of tousled waves, that you find yourself needing to know who she is. 

You swallow nervously, licking your bottom lip as you turn to Sam. “Who uh, who’s that?” you ask, nodding towards the group. “With Paul, Wes, and Corri?”

Sam turns around in his barstool, looking across the busy walkway to the group standing at the gate. “Oh, um…” he pauses, assessing the situation. “She’s with Paul, so that must be our new runner.”

“What happened to Lucy?” you ask, letting your eyes drift back to the mystery girl. 

“She got engaged and moved to Scotland or some shit, I don’t remember. Ask Josh,” he laughs. 

You hum, trying to remember the email thread where Paul’s new assistant was approved. What was her name…

“You know her name?” Lyla asks, looking at Sam.

Yes, Lyla. Yes. 

“Um, I think it’s….Y/N. Yeah, yeah, Y/N,” he answers confidently, snapping his fingers as he speaks. 

“So she’s the new Lucy…” you hum, flipping your sunglasses down over your eyes. 

“Guess so. We’ll see if she can hack it,” he laughs, sliding his card to the bartender. 

You turn back to look at her, this time your eyes concealed. She is rocking back and forth on her feet, looking around as she hugs her arms across her chest. She seems nervous, pushing her hair behind her ears every few minutes. You’re positively taken by her, unable to peel your eyes away from her every move. You can’t help but study her, and you briefly wonder if it's the alcohol rushing through your brain that has you so focused on her.

The gate agents’ voice blaring through the intercom system snaps you from your thoughts, announcing that your flight was ready to begin boarding. You look to Sam, who is signing the check, and nod your head in silent agreement that you should head over. You toss back the rest of your Whiskey, letting out a sigh as it warms your chest. You grab your black leather backpack and sling it over your shoulders, straightening out your shirt before following Sam across the walkway to the gate. With your glasses still down, you step into the waiting area, watching people line up around you. 

Josh, Ty, Mia, and Daniel appear behind you, startling you a bit as you fumble around in your pocket for your boarding pass. Their conversation is loud and grating, but you tune them out. You check your seat assignment as you move forward in the line, repeating it in your head over and over so you don’t forget it. You try not to pay attention to the pretty mystery girl five people ahead of you, but you just can’t seem to take your eyes off of her. You watch her disappear down the jet bridge as she talks to Paul, and before you can even register it, it’s your turn and the gate agent is scanning your ticket. She sends you on your way with a smile, and as you make the long walk to the plane you wonder if the girl in the green pants is going to make this tour just a little bit more interesting. 

—

HER POV

3E. 3E. 3E.

Your eyes scan the row of numbers at the top of the cabin, finally catching sight of your assigned seat. You slide into the aisle seat, tossing your backpack to the floor as you let out a sigh of relief. You made it in one piece. You weren’t late, and everyone seemed to like you so far. 

You take a look around you, admiring the plush seats and ample legroom. You’d never flown first class before. You felt a little out of place as you looked at the people around you. Thankfully it was filled with team members you knew, and the band members and their partners, but still you knew you didn’t belong up here. You kicked your bag beneath the seat in front of you, pulling your shirt sleeves over your hands before reaching up to adjust the air vents that were blowing far too hard. A small shiver left your body as you spun the vents closed, sitting back comfortably in your seat as you waited to see who your seat partner would be. 

Your phone buzzed on your lap, a text from your best friend lighting up your screen. 

Ruth

10:57am: How many hours is the flight again?

You smile as you quickly text back, running the numbers in your head.

You

10:58am: I don’t know, like 7 or 8 hours? You’ll be fine. Read a book or something. I’ll text you when I get there. But it will be late…or early? I think? There is a big time difference.

Ruth

10:59am: Ok, be careful.

You lock your phone and shove it under your leg, your eyes darting to the aisle as more people pass you on their way to their seats. You couldn’t believe your first leg of tour with them was taking you across Europe, allowing you to see places you’d only dreamed about. It wasn’t the job you were worried about, you could do that in your sleep. It was the uncertainty of being in another country with people you didn’t really know. 

Getting to know the bands you worked for was a precarious thing. Always walking the thin line between friend and employee. You knew your place though, and you knew where that boundary lied. Your eyes refocus as someone stops in front of you, dropping their hands. As you look up you see Jake, one of the band members staring back at you.

“I’m…right there,” he says, gently pointing to the seat next to you. 

“Oh, right here?” you ask, genuinely curious how you were seated next to a band member and not with a crew member.

“3F? That’s what this says…” he asks, checking his boarding pass. You nod and stand, letting him slide into the seat. He drops his leather backpack to the ground with a thud, letting out a sigh of relief, much in the same way you had. 

You resettle in your own seat, buckling your seatbelt and pulling it tight across your lap. Your heart is still pounding as you try to calm your nerves, suddenly feeling put on the spot next to your boss. Or– your boss's boss. Shit.

You realize that you know practically nothing about this band, about its members, and really even much of their music beyond their hits. You planned to spend most of this flight acquainting yourself with them, learning their likes and dislikes before making a fool out of yourself in front of them in the green room. You don’t know if you should speak to him, and truthfully you’re a little hesitant since that day at the office, catching him and Josh in an argument. 

You didn’t even know they would be there as you went in to sign your paperwork, but to your surprise they were, standing in the middle of the office playing around on instruments and talking. You made a beeline straight for the management office, mostly unseen, and quickly signed your paperwork. Paul went over some of the timelines and the things you would be responsible for as you took detailed notes on your phone, not wanting to miss a single thing. 

Though, all of that came to a screeching halt as the sound of a chair skidding forcefully across the concrete floors pulled you both from your conversation. From your seat you watched through the small office door as two men moved towards each other, while two more intervened to break up whatever was about to happen. 

You then learned from Paul that the two people that were arguing were the twins, Jake and Josh, and that the other two were their younger brother Sam, and their honorary brother Daniel. You observed in shock as the two of them shouted profanities at each other from either side of the piano, both red faced and worked up over something. 

Paul quickly walked you out the front door with an apology and a laugh, and that was the last you saw of the band and its members, until today.

Out of the corner of your eye, you try to get a good look at him without him noticing. First impressions have always been a big deal to you, and since your first impression of him was nothing short of off-putting, you decide to try again. Give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Worn-in black pants, cuffed at the ankle, a wrinkled beige button up that only conceals half his torso, a thick dark navy overcoat, and a stack of heavy silver necklaces. Oh, and blue-tinted sunglasses. His cologne… now that will be sticking around in your mind for a while. Clean, woodsy, a hint of musk but still kind of sweet.

You hear him clear his throat as he fidgets with his things, putting them all in their places as he finally settles into his seat. He reaches down into his black leather bag that appears to be well-loved, and pulls out a set of wired earbuds. They’re tangled and bunched, and you can’t help but smirk as you watch him try to untangle them. His fingers pull through the twisted white wires, and before you can offer your help, he reluctantly tosses them back down on top of his unzipped bag. “Fuck it,” you hear him mumble under his breath. He huffs again and leans back, tapping his fingers anxiously on his arm rests. 

You let yourself drift back into your own thought as the plane takes off, going over the hundreds of miniscule things you know you’ll have to accomplish as soon as the plane lands. It’s quiet in first class, something you aren't used to with flying on the regular. The peacefulness that comes along with the drone of the plane and the light conversation between everyone is almost enough to help you relax a little, if not for the damned cool air still blowing through the vent above you. 

You shiver a little, cuffing your hands over the ends of your shirt to pull it in more closely to your body. Why you had chosen to forgo a heavier jacket in the middle of winter, you truly don’t know. You decide to distract yourself a little, pulling up the string of endless emails that lie in waiting on your phone, getting a nice head-start on your duties before you have to hit the ground running. 

Jake has been sitting beside you quietly for about an hour now, alternating scrolling his phone every few minutes and looking out his window. The cloud cover is heavy, so being able to see even a glimpse of the ocean below you is a lost cause. You listen as he sighs, crossing one of his legs over the other and folding his hands in his lap. 

Should you strike up conversation? No, he probably doesn’t care to speak to you. But is it rude not to? You’ve already been sitting here for over an hour…

Just as you decide to open your mouth to speak, the plane hits turbulence. The cabin shakes and rumbles, and you can feel your stomach fall. Your hands grip the arm rests with white knuckles as the plane passes through, your eyes gripping shut as tightly as your palms on the arm rests. 

Finally, after what feels like forever the plane evens out again, and you hear the pilot come over the intercom to apologize. You finally let the breath you were holding free from your lungs, and you open your eyes to see Jake with his head leaned low in front of you. 

“You okay?” he asks, an eyebrow cocked. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just…don’t really enjoy this part much.” you admit, running your sweaty palms over your pants. 

He sits back in his seat once he notices your calmness return. “Me neither, to be honest. No matter how many times you hit turbulence on a plane, you never get used to it. I don’t care what people say.” he says with a sweet smile. You can tell that he was coming down from an anxious episode just the same as you. 

“No joke…” you agree, suddenly wanting a drink even if it was before noon. You push the tiny hairs away from your face as you regain a hold on your bearings, picking up right where you had left off before the turbulent air sent you into a spiral of doom. “I–I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before, my name’s–”

“Y/N.” he cut in, extending the tips of his fingers out to offer you a friendly handshake. 

You let your hand slowly come up to meet his, suddenly uncaring that it was probably still clammy. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.” 

For the five seconds your bodies connect, and the even shorter few seconds that his honey brown eyes meet yours, you feel like you were worried for nothing. This guy is nice. Maybe he’ll be easier to talk to than you thought…

His hand disconnects and flies to his chest. “I’m Jake.”

You nod. Of course you already know his name. “Yeah, um…guitar. Right?”

He smiles harder this time. “Yup. That’s my forte, at least. Have you um, ever been to Europe?” He brushes his hand over his nose a few times as his eyes dart back and forth from the seat behind you and back to your face, unable to hold eye contact. Is he nervous?

You turn your body a little more toward him. “No, actually. This is my first time. But I hear good things…”

“Oh shit, you’re gonna love it. Especially this time of year. Things move pretty fast when we get there, but we always try to explore as much as possible. See some sights.” You can tell that he’s truly excited about this excursion, and to be completely honest, you found yourself wanting to hang on his every word. 

“Anything in particular?” you press, wanting to hear the gritty rich sound of his voice again. 

You let him talk on and on about the places he wants to see, and the places that they had already been, even bringing up a few older photos on his phone as he describes their past trips. You try not to look as he scrolls, but his camera roll is full of tons of scenic photos and videos, landscapes, mountains, waterfronts… and of course a few rogue photos of guitars and guitar parts. You wonder if he’s planning to make little vlogs. 

“Italy is my favorite, I think. So much history there. I could’ve stayed for six months if they’d have let me.” Your shoulders are pressed up against each others’ now as you watch his thumb glide over the multitude of media, speeding through the less important ones to get to his favorites. Strange of him to trust a stranger this much to watch him scroll his personal camera roll. He obviously doesn’t have much to hide, even if this is crossing that boundary line…

“The people are great, the food is great, the wine, oh god, don’t get me started on the wine…” he chuckles, and you feel yourself bumping your shoulder against his a little as you laugh along with him. “The terroir is fuckin’ phenomenal, obviously. It’s like a different world.”

“I like a moscato every now and then.” You add, trying to throw in your two cents on your crumbs of wine knowledge. 

He returns with a scrunched nose. “Hmm, a bit sweet for my taste…So, Y/N. What’s your story, how’d you end up with us?” he asks, switching to cross his other leg over, now. 

You swallow, unsure of how to explain years’ worth of ups and downs you’d gone through to a rockstar. Your boss. You decide to keep it short and sweet, he didn’t need to know everything. 

“Well, I spent my entire youth attending a small private school and private high school, so I came up quite the determined and disciplined kid. Kinda sheltered.” You turn again in your seat, tucking one leg up underneath you. “But, I ended up moving away from home and away from family, been in this business for almost, eh, six years now?” You go on, and he listens intently. “Guess you could say I’m a pro at making things happen out of thin air.” You give him a long wink as you snap your fingers together. 

His eyebrows shoot up, and he finally gives you a hundred-watt smile. My god, he’s…

“A-ha, so you got all the good hookups, huh?” He asks, running his fingers over his chin as his cheeks turn the palest shade of pink. 

“S’what the runner does, isn’t it?” You pull your eyes back down to your lap. “Get you everything you need, right when you need it?” 

You bring your eyes back up to his and watch as he swallows hard, his mouth hanging open for just a split second before he catches himself. “Yeah, ehm, I suppose it is. We’re not too bossy, though. Josh can be, but.”

“So I’ve heard, he’s kind of a…diva?” You hadn’t done too much research on them, honestly. You hadn’t had the time. But, what few tiktoks and musics videos you had managed to see were fairly telling of their personalities. 

“He is. He is.” Jake laughs. “Don't let him fool you, though. He’s a big softie with an attitude problem. We all kind of are, honestly.”

“You’re a softie?” You press with a teasing tone. “From the few videos I’ve seen of you playing guitar, you look a little intimidating…” 

“Me? Intimidating?” He clicks his tongue. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, Y/N. It’s dangerous…” he growls the last word, and you can feel your insides ripping themselves apart just at the sound of his voice. You have to pull back, now. 

“All the runners we’ve ever had did extensive research on us before they came on tour, did you not do that?” he inquires, throwing you off a bit. 

You don’t really know how to answer, so you tell the truth. “Honestly Jake, no, I didn’t. I’ve toured with a few other bands in my career, and I did that. I researched them, learned all things I thought I needed to know so I didn’t go in blind. And, this time around, I did a little bit, but I kind of wanted to meet you all for myself. Get my own versions of you.” 

“Hm.” He responds with an understanding nod. “Well, you’ll be the first.” 

“Speaking of,” you go on, candidly glancing around the cabin and deciding to go ahead and ask the question that’s been nagging you. “Everyone else is seated with someone, wonder why I’m not with the rest of the team.” 

“What, you don’t wanna sit by me, Y/N?” he asks with a shred of a grin. 

“No no, it’s not that.” you laugh. “Just—“

“Normally I have someone with me, but…we’ve recently…gone our separate ways, I suppose.” He trips over the words a little, stammering through them like it was the first time he’d admitted it. 

“Oh… I see.” you pause, “That’s…never an easy thing.” 

I wonder if that was why he was so snippy that day at the office when you saw him fall off his rocker? 

“Eh, s’alright. Win some, lose some. We had a good run.” He says as he waves off the question. “So, you say you’ve been doing this awhile, you must really miss whoever you’re leaving at home.” 

Skating around the question, aren’t you, Jake?

“No, I’m single, if that’s what you’re asking.” You bite your lip as he doesn’t stop you from elaborating further. “I’m pretty independent, I like structure and uniformity. Growing up I wasn’t allowed much time on my own to have hobbies outside of school and practice. Strict parents. The job has kept me pretty adhered to that mindset, even in my personal life, so.” 

His eyes flick to yours and he squints them a little, as if he’s collecting every single one of your words and hanging them in a closet in his mind. He’s trying his best to figure you out, you can see it on his face. But why? He shouldn’t care…you don’t matter. 

“I can respect that.” He nods again. “My brothers and I, we grew up in a fairly religious household. Was great, don’t get me wrong. Really formed our roots but, as we got older and started to see the world, we kinda got away from it. Began to start seeing things in a different perspective.” He sucks his teeth, as if he’s recounting a hard memory. “Kinda why we moved to Nashville. We knew we had to break away if we wanted the band to be successful.”

You nod in understanding. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

His laugh fills the cabin as it bounces off the walls, a sweet chuckle that makes your heart rate pick up. You could listen to him laugh all day long. 

“S’pose it did.”

“The fuck are you two over here laughing at, huh?” Suddenly Josh’s curls are squished between your seats, his cheeks pinched together as he speaks. “I’m trying to get some shut-eye but I can’t from all the babbling—”

Jake places his hand over entirety of his twin’s face, pressing him through and back into his own seat. “None of your business, fuck off.”

You laugh at their antics, knowing in the back of your mind that you had better get used to it. You feel the air kick on again, fiercely blowing the freezing cold air directly onto you. You shiver a little, balling yourself up and pulling your sleeves closely in toward you again. 

“You want my jacket?” Jake asks, already starting to pull it from his shoulders. 

“No! No no no, thank you, but I’m fine, really.” The last thing you need is that right off that bat. A bad look. Day one. Nope. 

“Seriously, I run naturally hot. Take it.” He replies. 

“Oh yeah? Hence all your layers?” You tease, repositioning in your seat. 

“It’s a fashion statement, thank you very much.” He bites. “All about comfort for me.”

Gotta change the subject. 

“So tell me something I should know about your brothers. Something that would give me brownie points if I wanted to say…impress them with my craft service skills…” you press, giving him a new challenge. 

“Wow um, let’s see…” he brings his fingers to his chin and thinks hard, and you can’t help but feel endeared by the fact that he truly wants to help you out. “Josh stays away from chocolate and dairy and sweets and all that, but his guilty pleasure is those cotton candy flavored grapes. Weird, I know.”

“Oh my god, those are so nasty!” you laugh, but still take note. 

“Danny would be over the moon if you surprised him with salsa verde Doritos, and Sam drinks kombucha more than the normal human should.” he finishes with a stern nod.

“Got it. I think I can make most of that happen, aside from the grapes…” 

“He would kiss you right on the lips, I’m telling you.” Jake giggles again, and you notice how he lights up when he talks about them. 

“So Josh is the dramatic softie, what about the other two?” you ask. 

“Sam’s kinda serious but he’s playful when he wants to be. Sneaky, too. Daniel’s always into something, always busy. Man doesn’t like to sit still,” he concludes, and you commit it all. 

“And what about you?” you ask, feeling your stomach flip for some reason. 

“I thought you said you wanted to get your own versions of us,” he quipped back, parroting your words from earlier. Damn, you had said that.

You toss your hair behind your shoulder. “I did but…You’ll tell me all about them, but not about yourself?”

He crunches his lips together as his eyes scan your face. It makes you a little uncomfortable, how hard he’s really looking at you, but you let him. Stopping him would be a sin you weren’t ready to commit just yet. 

“That’s right.”

The two of you drift off into silence again as the minutes tick by, thankfully not being embarrassingly interrupted by Josh anymore. You decide that you want to listen to some music, so you reach into the pocket of your bag and pull out your AirPods, slipping the left one in first followed by the right. You pull up your music and begin flipping through your playlists, searching for something to match the relaxed tone of the hour. Truly, you feel like you could easily drift off to sleep. 

You find a nice quiet playlist and curl up in your seat, halfway reluctant you didn’t take Jake’s jacket, but also proud of yourself for saying no. You’re fucking freezing. 

You turn your head to the side and close your eyes, ready to drift off into another world. 

You’re jolted awake by turbulence, the plane shaking again as you wake up and get your bearings. “Shit,” you breathe as you sit up straighter, remembering exactly where you are. You notice that in your slumber, your head had fallen against Jake’s shoulder. Fuck. Fuck fuck.

The turbulence only lasts a few seconds before it evens out again, and the calmness returns to your body. You glance at Jake, seeing him looking a little drowsy and shaken, too.

“Jake, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, why didn’t you wake me? I—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I kinda dozed off, too,” he replies, stretching his arms high above his head without a care…not like he didn’t just have a stranger asleep with her head on his shoulder.

You look down, noticing that in the time you had drifted off, Jake had covered you with his coat. 

You panic, scrambling a little as you work to pull it from your body before anyone notices. 

His hands are quickly on yours, stopping your action. “Leave it, Y/N. You were shivering in your sleep…you can’t tell me you aren’t cozy right now…” his voice is barely a whisper, and the warmth of his hands grazing overtop of yours, even for a second, is enough to give you a whole other type of chill. 

“Yeah, I—I am warm…” you can’t deny that your body temperature has increased by at least a couple of degrees, and your fingers don’t feel like they’re going to get frostbite anymore. The jacket is heavy, heavier than it looks, and it smells like fresh pine needles and woodsy body soap. Just like…him?

“See?” he growls, backing away. “Just stay put.” 

Stay put? You want to bite back with something that will put him in his place; you explicitly told him you didn’t want his jacket, and he covered you anyway. While you were unconscious. While you couldn’t turn down the offer. 

…But you’re so warm, now. Your tense muscles are finally relaxing. The frigidity of the space has suddenly turned into a toasty furnace with a crackling fire.

Okay, but just until we land…

“What are you listening to?” Jake asks as he stretches again. You turn your phone for him to see, showing a generic playlist of Peaceful Sleep Songs lighting up your lock screen. 

“Agh, no, what is that shit?” Jake snatches your phone from your hand, quickly flipping the screen to unlock with your face before he begins shuffling through your playlists. 

“What are you doing?!” you yelp, reaching for your phone back. He raises his free hand to the air, stopping you from taking it. 

“Aht aht… I’m finding you something better to listen to. Don’t worry about it.” You suddenly hear the quiet music in your ears switch to something else, something you knew for a fact you hadn’t ever heard before. You give it a second as he turns the volume up a few notches, and you realize that it is most definitely brand new to you. 

It’s a solemn, tense-feeling piano beat, followed in by guitar. Lyrics only come in after a minute and a half or so. It sounds like growling, deep and hollow and a bit scary, but beautiful nonetheless. He’s watching your face as you experience it, quickly pressing pause as the song comes to a close. 

“What was that?” you ask, realizing you had really enjoyed it. 

“That was a song called Intro, by Alt-J. I know you’ve heard of Alt-J.” he says as he goes back to work on the phone. 

You slowly shake your head from side to side. “Can’t say I have, actually.” 

His jaw goes slack as his eyebrows raise in disbelief. “What? Like, never?” 

You feel your cheeks turning pink at the thought of a literal rockstar calling you out on your lack of music knowledge. 

“I don’t think so! That’s not what I normally listen to…don’t judge me,” you laugh, reaching for your phone again. 

He swats your hand away. “Ohh no, little fledgling. You’re listening to this. This is the good shit…” he presses play again as a twinkling high-pitched voice comes through your ears. It’s just jumbled words, no backing music or tune. The acapella strikes you as strange at first, until the end when it changes tone a bit, and it’s almost as if the lyrics are giving you advice you didn’t ask for. Warning you of something new and exhilarating, or better yet, dangerous and foreboding. It almost feels as if a black cloud has overcome you, only for a split second, letting you feel the nonexistent pokes and pinches that come along with the emotion of worry. 

The song flows directly into another now, one layered with a lot more sound, and it pulls you from that odd headspace the previous had put you in. You lean over the armrest, looking at the screen to see the title Tessellate. You’ve never heard anything like this kind of music before, and you wonder why Jake chose this particular artist. 

“This is one of their more popular ones, like radio popular, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album. Here in a second you’ll hear it slow down—”

You stop him by pulling your right earbud out, shoving it in his hand. “Shh, you can talk me through the songs later. Let me listen.”

He shuts his mouth, giving you a sweet grin as he takes the bud, placing it in his own ear and pressing play again. You continue on through the album, each song something brand new to you, a genre you’d really never delved into but wish you had, now. It’s enthralling, different, and full of sounds that make your mind sway and swim through mixtures of color and gray. 

You watch as Jake’s fingers tap along exactly with the beat of each song perfectly, down to a tee. The words don’t make much sense to you, and you can hardly distinguish what the singer is saying, but you know that Jake will give you a rundown of it all as soon as time allows him. You don’t know much about him, but his persistence is already apparent. You glance to see his eyelashes hitting his cheeks, his head barely bobbing side to side as he feels the music. You find yourself envious that he can draw inspiration and act on it, turning it into art of his own, whereas all you can do is sit back and listen to it.

Every couple of minutes he perks up from his meditation and adds new songs from their other albums onto the little playlist he’s started for you. You can’t quite make out what he’s titled it, but you can tell it's an emoji of some sort. His thumb flips and flies with precision across your screen as he scrolls and adds songs, and you have to admit, you’re a little excited to get your phone back and learn just what he’s creating for you. Especially for you.

You take a quick deep breath as you recenter yourself, catching your eyes drifting over his hand as he grips your phone. The veins in his hand roll over his knuckles, and you can just barely see the scuffed and calloused ends of his fingertips. Dial it the fuck back Y/N, remember the rules.

“Oooh, this is another one of my favorites,” he remarks, his mouth fairly close to your ear as he tries not to raise his voice over the volume of the music. He turns the screen a little so you can see the title, Taro. “You haven’t— You didn’t come to any of our shows last year by chance, did you?”

You feel a big pang of guilt shoot through your chest, remembering that you had actually been invited by some friends to see them way back when, but you’d turned the invitation down, not knowing who they even were at the time. You shake your head from side to side. “No, I didn’t.”

“This is one of the ones we play to the crowd before we go on. We all love it, it’s a sad, sad love tale based on true events. That’s the cool thing about this group, their lyrics are never really about what you think they are. They’re storytellers, a bit like Josh is, if you think about it. Their themes and over arcs are just…mind blowing sometimes.” Jake’s voice is a tiny murmur in your ear as your shoulders lean on one another’s again, still very taken with the music flowing through your ear. “We grab a lot of inspo from them, sonically and melodically…” You can feel his breath on your cheek, and you find yourself wondering what it would taste like…

“Here, read along with the lyrics. Try not to cry.” He hands your phone back, letting you keep up with the words floating down your screen. And he’s right, it’s heartbreaking without even knowing the context. 

“Wow…That was really beautiful,” you choke, realizing the depth of the story of the song. 

“Yep. Good shit, I told you.” He whips his hand around and takes the phone back as the next song comes in and warms your bones up again. You can feel the bare skin of his elbow brushing against yours, realizing that he was telling the truth about being naturally warm-bodied. Suddenly you don’t feel so bad about cuddling up under his coat. 

He opens your contacts app and adds himself, placing the sword emoji beside his name. He smirks as he hands the phone back. 

“Added your phone number, huh?” you ask rhetorically.

He sucks his teeth as he cracks his fingers. “Yep. How else will I let you know what I might need? Plus, never know when you might need to call me.”

—

You watch the signs overhead illuminate, a gentle tone ringing through the cabin as the Captain starts to make an announcement. You pause the song and pull your AirPod out, watching Jake do the same. 

“Hey folks, this is your Captain speaking. Just want to let you know we will be landing in Hamburg shortly. I’d expect to be on the ground in the next ten minutes or so, putting us about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so sit tight and we’ll have you on the ground in a few. Attendants please prepare for arrival.”

You turn to look at Jake, shrugging as you slide your AirPod back into the case. He raises his eyebrows and drops his jaw. “But we aren’t done! Wait! Hold on!”

He grabs your phone again, and from what you can see he is adding more songs to your playlist. You watch as he scrolls through various different albums by different artists, adding songs as quickly as he can. You smirk as you catch sight of the emoji he’s chosen, the chick icon, a playful nod at his earlier fledgling comment. He peeks over at you every few seconds, trying his best to hurry so you can pack up your things, but in a last effort you watch as he adds himself as a collaborator to the playlist. 

You raise an eyebrow to him as he hands your phone back to you, shrugging with a soft laugh. You feel your insides swirl at the sight of his smile, and you turn your eyes to your phone scrolling through the songs on the playlist. You turn back to him and nod, a silent agreement that you will listen just as you feel the plane starting to land. 

“I wanna keep adding songs for you to listen to, fledgling. If you want me to, of course…” 

You nod. “Of course I do. School away, Jake,” you reply with an air of playful annoyance.

He chuckles. “I plan to.”

As you brace for the landing you grip your hands into the arm rests, letting go of the soft worn in corduroy fabric you’d been playing with for the last hour. Your eyes squint closed as the plane touches down, jolting everyone forward in their seats. Jake grabs his phone as the plane slows down, flashing his screen at you to show a local time of 12:13AM. 

“I see some jet lag in our future,” you smile, sliding his jacket off of your arms. You fold it the best you can and hand it back to him, almost sad you have to give it back to him. “Thanks again for that.”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” He accepts it graciously from you, letting out a soft breath as he unfolds it and slides it back over his shoulders. It fits his personality well, soft and sturdy, worn in and weathered. He flips his hair out from beneath the collar, a barely there smell of peppermint passing through the air. You pull your gaze away from him just as you see his cheeks start to blush from your gaze. You lock your phone and stick it into your backpack at your feet, wondering how in such a short amount of time Jake has managed to infiltrate your thoughts so completely. 

JAKE POV

As she turns to grab her bag you open your phone, tapping on the notification that she has added you to her playlist. You accept the invitation with a sly smile before sliding your phone back into your coat pocket. It smells like her now, soft and floral, very different than anything you were used to. Your mind was already circling with things you wanted to add to that playlist when you got a minute, finding it was harder than you thought to think of songs on the fly. 

The first few rows begin to file out of the plane and you watch as Paul stands and turns to look at Y/N, motioning to her to meet up with him after she got off the plane. She nods her head and slides her backpack straps over her shoulders, waiting for her turn to stand. 

“For jet lag…You know…Um, Benadryl,” you offer, your voice a little soft and unsure.

She turns to look at you, pinching her brows together in question. 

“When you get to your room tonight, take a Benadryl. Should knock you out until the morning and help you get on a normal schedule. Works for me, at least.” you finish, nodding to her as the people in front of you stand to leave. 

“Thanks, Jake.” She smiles and nods, sliding out of her seat to walk down the aisle. 

You watch her as she walks up the jet bridge towards the gate, seeing Paul waiting for her in the doorway. The two walk together through the airport, finding it fairly quiet at this hour as most of the flights have landed for the night. You push your sunglasses down onto your nose just as you feel Josh walking up behind you. 

He gives you a gentle nudge in the side to get your attention. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Easy flight,” you answer, still listening and catching bits and pieces of whatever Paul is saying to Y/N, prepping her for the hotel check in and details for the morning. She is typing notes on her phone as she walks, barely looking where she is going, clearly trusting Paul to look out for her more than she should.

You tune out Josh as he rambles on about the flight, Ty jumping in every few words with a retort or a laugh. Your eyes don’t seem to leave her though, watching her talk, watching her walk, shit, just watching her. You can’t seem to shake it. You’d never met anyone like her before. Someone you were so instantly taken with. You wanted to know every single detail about her. 

You feel Josh’s hand as it comes up to your chin, pressing it upward and forcing your jaw shut. “There, you seemed to have dropped that.”

You turn to him angrily, knowing what he’s insinuating, giving him a hard elbow to the arm. “Fuck off, Josh.”

He laughs and pushes you with his shoulder, readjusting his backpack on his other shoulder. “Just an observation, that’s all. Can’t say I blame you, though.”

“Oh are you talking about Jake and Y/N?” Sam interjects, stepping up on your right side in a lanky stride. 

Josh nods, laughing slightly, wanting to keep this banter going. Asshole. 

“Can you two knock it off, fuck,” you growl, hoping she can’t hear them. Your eyes are locked in on her again, and much to your relief she is talking to Paul and can’t hear a word they’re saying.

“He didn’t shut up the entire flight. Lots of whispering and giggles from up there. I didn’t sleep at all. But I did hear his monologue about the genius of Alt-J for the fourth time this year.” Josh quips, earning a laugh from everyone around you. 

“Fuck you again, Josh,” you spit, annoyed at his lack of respect. 

“Damn, so you’re trying to scare her away, then?” Sam teases, giving you a sideways grin. 

You shake your head and push past them forcefully as you step off the escalator into baggage claim, not wanting to engage in this conversation a second longer. Especially because you were afraid they might be right. 

—

“Shit, not again,” Danny mumbles as you all approach the baggage claim area, immediately noticing a group of fans obviously waiting for your arrival. You take a deep, preparational breath as you can’t help but run into them on your path to the carousel. 

“Let’s just get it over with,” you hear Josh complain as he puts on his faux-happy face. You all love meeting fans. Truly, watching their faces light up when they see you is something that is unparalleled. But coming off of a long flight and already feeling the effects of the time difference, starving, and ready for a drink usually puts all of you in a mood that is generally irked overall. But you always suck it up; this is the life you signed up for. 

This time though, unlike most encounters with fans, is enough to make your general irritation quickly turn into intense aggravation. They swarm you, hugging and pulling and invading your spaces in an extremely unwelcome attempt at meeting each of you. You feel surrounded, and unable to get to your luggage in time before it rounds the carousel again. You keep your cool, just as you always do, curtly smiling and pulling away as your body instructs you to. You pause for quick photos as your eyes search the spinning luggage again. You see your brothers out of the corners of your eyes doing the same… quick ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ as the crowd just seems to get bigger and bigger. 

Just as your eyes finally fall on your suitcase, you hear a loud clack as you turn and notice someone has knocked Sam’s phone out of his hand. It lands face down on the tile floor, likely cracked and scuffed from the people crowding around you all. You watch as Sam’s face turns up in annoyance, his eyes closed as he composes himself. 

“Okay, that’ll be enough!” You hear Dean, your security, bellow across the crowd. “Please step away, no more photos, no more photos…” Dean makes his way into the center of group, quickly dispersing them. You give Sam a quick look that says, ‘get your phone, let’s go’, and soon enough you’re rolling your suitcase through the middle of the crowded room. 

You see Y/N in the crowd, finding her to be a little flustered from the encounters, but alright nonetheless. You lock eyes with her as she mouths, ‘Are you okay?’, and you nod her off with a look of, ‘Yeah, this happens all the time.’

Your team is surrounding you as you quickly walk through the hallway toward the exit, ready to hop into an unmarked van and zip away to your hotel. You’re still being followed as you make it through the back exit doors.

When you’re finally safe outside the pickup area, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that was a bad one.” Danny says. “Sam, how's your phone?”

“It’s ok, just a little scuff in the corner but it’ll be fine,” he answers, scanning his eyes over it.

“Guys, keep your phones on, Wes will be texting you tomorrow with where we’re headed next. Get some sleep and something to eat.” Paul instructs as everyone loads their things into the vans. Y/N is standing nearby, and you can tell that she feels a little out of place as she awkwardly crosses one ankle over the other. You take a quick opportunity to knock your elbow into her side, feeling comfortable enough to do that now that you’d sat together so long on the plane, but she’s avoiding eye contact. You hope she doesn’t feel uncomfortable around you.

“Hey, thanks for letting me jam a little with you on the plane,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry if I overstepped any, but I really think you’ll like the music I added for you.”

Finally her composure opens a little. “No, no! You didn’t… overstep. I’m actually excited to hop in my big cozy hotel bed and listen again.” Her words make your stomach fall with nerves, but you quickly suppress it. 

“Y/N, you ready?” you hear Wes ask her as he passes by, heading toward another van.

“Yep, all set!” she answers as she follows him through the dwindling group. She hops into another van, and you worry she’ll be staying at another hotel. For a second you think you won’t see her as much if she is. You climb inside the van and slam the door closed behind you, seeing the group of fans with their phones pressed to the windows of the airport. You plop back down into the middle seat beside Josh, and finally take a full breath of relief. 

“Fuck! I swear to god if I’m getting sick again…” Josh says as he bangs his head against the headrest behind him. You scoot sideways on the van’s bench seat, staying as far away from him as you can. 

“Are you serious?!” Danny says from the seat behind you. “You need a mythical medicine man or some shit.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just feel a little congested. I’ll send Y/N out on her first mission for some meds after we get settled in the hotel.” Josh answers, and you keep yourself pressed against the van’s window, purposefully turning your back to him. Can’t have that again. You realize, though, that of course she’ll be in the same hotel as you, management always is. 

The vision of a worried Y/N replays in your mind, seeing her face full of concern as the fans did all but ambush you earlier. You shake the thought, suddenly having a realization that, most likely, everyone else is having, too. 

“I think we should amp up security,” you blurt. “No offense to Dean, but he’s only one guy. There are more than ten of us…” you’re met with a little bit of silence, so you press on. “Just while we’re over here, at least. We’re going to be separated a lot, and I think it would be a good idea if Dean wasn’t being pulled in all different directions.”

“Don’t you think we should have thought of that before we got over here, Jake?” Josh counters. 

“I’ve actually been thinking it for a while. Today just…made me feel like it’s necessary, now,” you respond quietly. What could it hurt? You have the funds, and a few extra eyes on you and your team couldn’t be a bad thing. 

You hear a collective sigh from your brothers, until Sam finally speaks. “Yeah, I kinda felt a little overwhelmed when I dropped my phone and it got kicked away from me. First world problems, I know, but—”

“But someone could have picked it up, and ran off with it. Gotten access to your private information. Stepped on it and shattered it. We’re probably just paranoid, but I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a bad idea…” you suggest. 

“I like the idea.” Josh adds. “Wish we would have talked about it sooner, but I’m sure Paul could get something arranged for us. Those security companies are always looking for overseas gigs.”

“Daniel, you agree?” you ask, twisting your body to the backseat. 

“Yeah, I do, actually,” he decides. 

“Good. It’s settled, then. We’ll talk to Paul first thing in the morning,” you say, happy with your decision of bringing it up. All you can see is a memory of Y/N’s scared face replaying over and over in your mind, and you just can’t seem to shake it.

You quickly curse yourself, you’re in no headspace to be worrying about a woman right now. You’ve gotta keep your head on straight. Tour hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already letting a new girl give you butterflies. You audibly scoff at yourself as you lean your elbow on the window, looking out at the bustling streets outside. You throw your earbuds in, letting the tangle of cords just be what it is, and you pull your phone out to switch the volume up. Of course, Alt-J pops onto your screen the second you look at it, and you wonder if she’s already listening to them, too. 

The city lights are twinkling through the light drizzle of rain, and you finally feel your bones starting to settle into tiredness. Though your mind is racing with excitement to play shows, you let yourself ignore the thoughts and relax into the music blessing your ears. Some room service and a down comforter is calling your name. 

—--

HER POV

The shrill sound of your hotel room telephone wakes you from a half-sleep. What the hell? What time is it? You don’t remember falling asleep, but the loud TV and the lights still illuminating the room signify you must have accidentally dozed off. 

“Hello?” you answer, realizing that no matter the time, duty calls. 

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Paul. Sorry if I woke you…”

“No, you’re fine. I’m awake,” you lie. 

“Cool. Um, Josh was wondering if you’d run to the pharmacy down the street and pick up the meds I just texted you. He said he would go get them himself, but he’s doing a lung steaming treatment or… something. I dunno. But if you don’t care, here’s your first assignment! I know it’s late, but the pharmacy is apparently open all night.”

You glance at your watch and see that it’s already nearing 1:00AM. “Sure! I don’t care at all. Tell him I’ll have them to him ASAP.” 

“Will do. Hey, turn your location on for me and Wes, okay? Be safe, thanks again,” Paul hangs up the phone before you can say goodbye, and within seconds you’re crawling out of bed and putting your pants back on. Your stomach growls as you realize you fell asleep without eating anything. You make a plan to make a quick trip to the pharmacy, deliver Josh his medicine, then go back out to find something to eat before you end up eating the bag of peanuts you stuffed in your bag on the plane. 

You take a second to check your messages, finding you have three unread messages from Ruth. In the mess and confusion of the day, and the time difference, you’ve been thrown for a loop. You shoot her a quick few texts to let her know you’re alive and well, but you leave out the sweet little detail that you’d shared AirPods with the guitarist of the band you’re touring with. You’d get into that part later.

The walk to the pharmacy is short, thankfully, and you find the things Josh needs without much of an issue at all. The city is still fairly crowded with people at this hour, and you make sure to track your steps backward just the way you came to get back to the hotel. Your stomach rumbles again, and the smells coming from the various restaurants around you have your head spinning with hunger. 

A few quiet knocks on Josh’s hotel room door bring him to answer it within seconds, and his warm composure instantly makes you feel welcome. “Y/N! Thank you so much, seriously. I need to knock this shit out before it gets any worse, and I think you just saved the day,’ he gushes as you see clouds of steam pouring out of his cracked bathroom door, and smell the sweet scent of herbal fragrances as they waft through your nose. “You have any trouble finding the place? Google said it was close by…”

“Anytime, Josh. And no, actually. It was right around the corner,” you answer, handing him the bag of meds.

“Good. Well I won’t bother you again, you heading to sleep?” he asks with a warm tone.

You bite the inside of your lip as your stomach screams at you again. “No, I passed a little pub on my walk, and it smelled amazing as I walked by. Think I’m gonna go have a drink and get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Go feed yourself, love. Enjoy the city. We’ve got a long day tomorrow!” 

“Will do, see you tomorrow!” you say as he closes the door. 

“Thanks again! See ya!”

You make your way to the elevator and down to the bottom floor, digging your phone out of your pocket to check your location and make sure the pub is still going to be open at this hour. A quick search for Le Marmitone tells you the kitchen doesn’t close for another hour, so you pick up your pace and head straight for the pub. 

The wind and rain have picked up a little bit, and you thank yourself for adding a few layers on before you left your hotel room earlier. The cold air bites at your cheeks as you meander through the people still out walking the streets, and the smell of the food drifting on the wind draws you straight back to the pub. Upon entering the double doors, you find that it is actually a nice restaurant with a bar. 

You grab a seat at the corner of the bar, glancing to the coolers and shelves to see what your drink options are.

“Evening madame, here is a menu. Can I get you a beverage?” a man in a sport coat asks as he hands you the shiny white menu. His accent is thick, but you can understand him fairly easily.

“Hello. Could I have a whiskey soda and a water, please?” you ask as you remove your heavy jacket and hang it over the back of the stool. You look over the menu choices and decide on a bowl of soup and a sandwich, more of a lunch option, but a steaming hot bowl of soup sounds exactly like what you need right now. 

There are a few people still scattered throughout the restaurant, most closing their tabs and leaving for the night. There are a few patrons still at the bar, stuck in conversations with one another or watching whatever game is playing on the big screen. 

The bartender sets your drinks in front of you as you tell him your food order, and you pull out your phone to begin fishing through emails and making your daily checklists. The Whiskey drink is strong, but not too strong, and you let yourself enjoy the immediate warmth it sends coursing through your veins. 

You fill your stomach up as far as it will allow you, and you decide that one more drink probably won’t hurt, as the place doesn’t close up for another hour. You’re enjoying yourself, basking in the calm before the storm that is going to hit promptly at 10AM tomorrow. 

“‘Scuse me, sir. I’ll take one more drink and my check, please,” you alert the bartender. He nods and turns to concoct your drink and print your tab. When he returns, he plops a bright red maraschino cherry onto the top. 

“Gentleman at the end of the bar says this one is on him, ma’am.” He places the white slip of paper in front of you as he removes your dishes, and disappears. Your eyes slowly drift to the left, landing on an older gentleman who had been lingering at the end of the bar since you’d gotten here. His friends have since left, leaving him to finish off a few more rounds by himself. 

He smiles hard when you notice him, and slides off his stool, stumbling his way toward you. You feel your heart rate pick up as he approaches you, and you remember that you do have mace in your purse, should you need it, Ruth’s one request.

“Hello, lovely. Enjoy that drink on me this evening,” he slurs with a heavy accent. He sits down in the stool beside you, and suddenly you’d rather not have that second drink, after all. You glance at the drink, and back to him, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in his presence. 

“Um, thank you, really. But I—I’ve actually got to go. It’s getting to be later than I thought…” you lie, pulling out some cash from your purse to pay the bill. 

“Nonsense! Have the drink, beautiful. Tell me, where are you from? Your accent tells me it’s somewhere far away from here…” he presses, pushing the drink toward you. His hands are giant, and covered in dark hair. He has a beard of the same color that reaches almost down to his stomach, and you can smell the alcohol radiating from his breath. 

“The States,” you say bluntly, avoiding eye contact with him as the bartender is nowhere to be found. You immediately kick yourself for not telling Dean where you had run off to, all by yourself. You know better than this. 

“Obviously, sweetheart. But where?” he asks. 

“Um, a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it,” you go on, beginning to pull your jacket on and leave the money on the bar top. Suddenly the man’s hand is on the back of the stool, holding it steady as you try to turn it. 

“I’d like to hear all about it, love,” he growls, and you suddenly feel very intimidated. There is no one else around, no other patrons at the bar, you couldn’t feel the presence of another human or employee running about, and you contemplated making a run for it. 

“I promise I’m not here to scare you, just talk. That’s all I’d like to do…” he goes on, backing his hand away from the chair as he notices your panic. Finally, the bartender makes his way back, but instead of taking your check, he continues cleaning and re-stocking for the night. You’re alone, and uncomfortable. Why did you do this to yourself? 

Suddenly you remember that Jake put his number in your phone. You know you can’t get a hold of Dean at this hour, especially since you didn’t tell him you were going anywhere. You can’t make that bad of a first impression before your first day even really happens. 

You quickly turn your attention to your phone, trying to figure out what to do, but then it hits you. You type in the name, taking a deep breath before sending Jake a risky text as a last ditch effort. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hmm?” the man asks as you turn away from him to type as quickly as you can.

You

1:47AM: Jake, are you awake?

Your foot taps nervously on the floor, the man next to you doing everything in his power to corner you into this seat. A text bounces back after a minute, and you feel your shoulders relax just a touch. 

Jake 🗡

1:49AM: How did you get this number?

You

1:50AM: You put it in my phone today on the plane. Are you busy?

Jake 🗡

1:51AM: Oh, hey. No, I’m just getting ready to go to bed, why what’s up? You okay?

You

1:52AM: No. I don’t think so. I hate to ask this, I know it’s late. Is there any way you could come meet me? I left to get something to eat and didn't tell anyone and this guy here has me cornered into my seat and I don't think he is gonna let me leave alone.

Jake 🗡

1:53AM: Share your location, I’m leaving now.

You

1:54AM: Thank you. I owe you.

“Did you hear me sweetheart? I said, are you expecting someone?” the man asks, a sly grin on his face as he leans closer to you. 

You quickly glance back down at your phone, sharing your location with Jake and hoping he can find you. You lock your phone and put it in your purse, pretending you’re a lot less anxious than you actually are.

“Actually, yes, I am. My…boyfriend is on his way. He’ll be here in just a second.” you lie, doing your best to speak confidently. “I should probably step outside to meet him.”

“No, no, stay, you haven’t touched your drink,” he says, gesturing to the glass of alcohol. “I know a place down the street, stays open late, too.”

You feel your skin start to grow clammy, the man's intentions suddenly becoming very clear. Your heart is pounding as you try to talk your way out of the situation. You clear your throat, and just as you start to speak you see the front door of the restaurant open. Jake steps inside, looking side to side, his eyes quickly scanning the entirety of the restaurant until he locks eyes with you. 

He nods to the host at the door as he walks toward you, wearing the same clothes from earlier but now his hair is a little messier. You know he got out of bed to do this. 

You instantly stand from your seat as Jake steps up, reaching towards him as he settles himself between you and the man. 

“Hey baby, you finally made it,” you coo, your pleading eyes locked on Jake’s as he wraps his arm around your shoulder in a welcoming hug. You can smell him, the cologne lingering on his coat. The same coat that was wrapped around you only hours ago.

He pulls away and drops his arms to his side as you turn to him. You stare at him just a second longer, hoping he can hear the words you are screaming in your mind. He blinks and turns to look at the man before letting his eyes flick back to you. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course babe, sorry I was late,” he pauses, turning to face the drunk man beside him. “Who is this?”

You let out a small breath of relief as he silently agrees to play along with you. “Oh, he came over from the bar. He sent this drink over, but I just can’t drink it. I already had one and you know I work in the morning,” you answer, hoping he is understanding what you’re trying to say. “Do you want it?”

He looks so effortless standing there with a hand in his jacket pocket. He tilts his head and scrunches his nose just a bit before answering, “Ahh, nah…It looks like a watered down well pour and I just had one myself before I got here. I’m alright. We should probably get going though, we have an early day tomorrow and it’s fairly late already.”

Yes.

“Oh, you two are terrible liars. He isn’t your boyfriend, is he sweetheart?” the man asks, scoffing at Jake. “You should come with me, I can show you the city better than this fool.”

“That’s an awfully brazen assumption, sir, I must say.” Jake argues, pulling his hand from his coat pocket and grabbing yours. You suck in a harsh breath feeling his fingers lace with yours. Fake or not, there was definitely a new feeling swirling through your veins. 

“Look at her, she’s flustered. This woman hasn’t ever been touched by you. It’s written all over her face.” he continues, looking Jake over. 

“Your boyfriend, your husband, he isn’t any of those things. I don’t see a ring on your finger, and I don’t know how they do things where you’re from, but in this country, you my dear, are fair game.”

You want to snap back. The audacity is astounding. You start to step forward, ready to lay into him, but you feel Jake’s hand squeeze yours and you know he’s telling you to follow his lead this time.

“She is with me, sir,” Jake spits. “And it would be in your best interest to back off.”

“Oh, is that right?” the man counters, standing up from his seat, giving him a few good inches over Jake. Jake didn’t falter though. Of course he didn’t. He knew that didn’t matter.

“Kiss her, then. If she’s yours, kiss her,” he quips. 

“Absolutely not, I don’t have to prove anything to you, and quite frankly sir, it’s none of your business,” Jake snaps, you can tell he’s starting to get mad, his hand gripping yours a little harder. “Let’s go, babe.”

You stand firm next to him, not letting your face show a single waiver of emotion as the man waits to see if you’ll crack. Jake starts to walk away pulling you behind him, but before you can move the man grabs your other arm, taking both of you by surprise. 

“Stay, sugar. Let a real man take you home.”

Jake snaps his head around, hearing the words fall from the man's drunken mouth. For a minute you’re scared. You don’t know how Jake is going to react, his jaw is hard set and his nostrils flared in anger. You hear him curse under his breath as he shakes his head. 

“You know what? Fuckin’ fine…” he challenges, looking at the man then to you, nodding just enough for you to notice.

Just as you feel the anxiety of what he is about to do bloom in your chest, he reads your body language, letting a sweet and quiet ‘S’okay’ slip from his lips.

Your eyes widen a little as you realize what’s about to happen, but take solace in the fact that he’s likely just as nervous as you are. He stops, pulling you in towards him as his hand grabs at your waist.

His fingers grip into your hairline as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over your lips, hot and wet as your hands slide up his body to rest on his chest. You kiss him back, you’re trying to sell this as the real thing, but also partly because you just want to. You try not to think about that part too much as you let your tongue flick against his just for a second before pulling it back. You feel the vibration on your lips as the softest groan leaves his mouth just as he pulls away from you. 

Your lips are wet with the taste of him and your chest is heaving as Jake rubs his lips together and clears his throat. He turns to the man who is standing there staring at the two of you, a bit of challenge in his tone as he speaks. “You good now?”

The man scoffs, mumbling a curse as he bats at the air between you. You feel yourself relax in Jake’s grip as the man turns to walk back to his original place at the bar. A quiet ‘fuck’ leaves Jake’s mouth as he turns his attention back to you, stepping back and releasing his grip on you. 

His eyes search yours just as yours search his, both of you unsure what to say. Instead he looks over to the man again, nodding his head to him as he grabs your hand again and guides you towards the door.

“You okay?” he asks, opening the door and letting you walk out into the drizzle. You pull your jacket closed across your front, the cold air chilling your skin. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thank you– for that,” you murmur as he steps up next to you. He grabs your hand again, lacing his warm fingers with your cold ones, taking you by surprise. 

“Oh, it’s okay now Jake, he isn’t following us,” you offer, looking over your shoulder to check. He doesn’t drop your hand though, in fact you feel his fingertips brush across your knuckles, sending a whole different kind of chill through your body. 

“I know,” he answers, smiling shyly as he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re positive he can see the blush that has taken over your cheeks, your mouth suddenly dry, and your mind unable to form a response. You feel the butterflies swirling around in your stomach as you walk towards the hotel, the rain starting to taper off finally. 

“You can trust me, you know,” he says, his voice sincere as he guides you around puddles. 

“I barely know you, Jake,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his. 

“For now,” he answers, squeezing your hand in his. 

He opens the door to the hotel lobby, the warm air instantly hitting you. Jake drops your hand, your fingertips brushing against his. You kind of miss it, in a way you definitely shouldn’t be. 

“Thank you again, for doing all of that. I’m really sorry. I fucked up, I won’t make that mistake again,” you say, watching him press the button for the elevator. Your eyes linger on his lips, a little pink from the cold air outside. 

“It was no problem, I promise. Stop apologizing,” he pauses, motioning for you to step into the elevator. “Let me walk you to your room, what floor?” he asks, his finger hovering over the buttons.

“Oh, no it’s really okay, you don’t have to do that. I promise I’m good now,” you stammer, watching his lips turn up in a huff of laughter. 

“Y/N, what floor?”

“Nine,” you squeak, your eyes fixated on the dimple in his cheek. You feel your skin growing warm just from looking at him, you feel like you might burst into flames just at the thought of how his lips felt on yours. Did you imagine that whole encounter? No way all of that just happened.

“Me as well,” he says, pressing the button as the doors close.

The two of you ride up in silence, casting each other the occasional glance every few seconds. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you're positive you stopped breathing. The elevator chimes as it reaches the ninth floor, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound. 

He smiles at you again as the doors open, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. “Your room number?”

“Um, I think I'm 924, all the way down,” you answer, your heart jumping in your chest. 

He nods his head and puts a hand into his pocket. “Alright, I’m just up here in 915, but I’ll walk you down.”

“Jake you really don’t have to, you can just–”

He turns to you and laughs, shaking his head again. “Just let me.”

“Fine.” You huff a breath, pulling your own keycard from your purse. He walks only a step behind you, both hands in his pockets now as you step up to your door. You tap your key to the lock and hear it beep, signaling for you to enter. You turn to look at Jake, seeing a softness to his face you hadn’t noticed until now. 

“Thank you, for…being such a gentleman,” you say playfully, smiling at him. 

“My pleasure, Miss Y/N. There is some chivalry left in the world…” he answers, bringing his hand up to rub at his lips. 

You start to enter your room, and hear him speak again, this time very quietly.  “We’re not all bad.”

You turn around to see him shifting his weight still rubbing his fingers over his chin as if he expected you not to hear him. 

“What?”

He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, clearly shocked you heard him. You can tell he wants to say something but he’s holding back. Maybe you’ve spooked him. 

He shakes his head with a smile, as if telling himself whatever he wanted to say was stupid. He pulls his phone and his keycard from his pocket and grips them in his hand. “Nothing, nothing, um, have a good evening. I will see you in the morning, I suppose.”

You nod once, giving him a sweet and appreciative smile, “See you in the morning.”

He lingers for just a moment, eyes locked on yours before flicking down to your lips. He catches himself and looks back at you before turning to head down the hallway. You shut the hotel room door and twist the lock, letting out the breath you had been holding with a gasp. 

You spin around, letting your back press against the door as you sink down to the floor with a barely audible squeal. Holy. Shit. What the hell was that?

Pull yourself together Y/N.

You grab your purse and stand up, digging through it as fast as you can in search of your phone. You have no earthly idea what time it is in Nashville but you don’t care as you pull up your texts with Ruth, and begin furiously typing. 

You

2:34AM: Without going into detail I definitely just kissed the guitarist 🫢

You toss your bag onto the chair and change into your pajamas, your blood still rushing around in your body as you try to calm your nervous system. A text bounces back, and you know it’s her. 

Ruth

2:40AM: WITHOUT GOING INTO DETAIL???? KISSED? I just got to my desk!!!! I’m here. I’m sat. I’m listening. I want every single detail in a five paragraph essay with MLA formatting.

You

2:42AM: Lol it is 2:40 in the morning. I will call you tomorrow, which is really still today for you, but kinda tomorrow for me? I don’t know this is confusing but I will call you and give you the full run down because we also shared airpods on the plane and he made me a playlist? Love you goodnight!

Ruth

2:44AM: AIRPODS? A PLAYLIST??????

2:45AM: Y/N NO! GET BACK HERE

2:45AM: Okay. Hang on, I’m googling him. I need to see this man’s face

2:46AM: Wait there’s two guitarists

2:46AM: Ok one is the bassist HELLO?? You kissed HIM?! Aldjsfklsk

2:48AM: It’s totally fine and I am being so normal about this. Talk to you later, if I haven’t pulled all my hair out by then! I’ll be creeping his insta all day! Goodnight!

You laugh as you read her onslaught of messages, knowing that she is likely going out of her mind with possible scenarios. You make your way into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth so that you can positively melt into the bed and sleep until your alarm forces you awake. You’re patting your face dry as your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, but the noise it makes isn’t one you’re familiar with. You hang the towel on the ring and pick up your phone, seeing a notification come through that is brand new to you.

‘Jake Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

He what? 

Now?

Your blood runs cold just seeing his name on your phone after…well…whatever that was.

You turn off the bathroom light, hesitantly sliding your finger across the notification, and letting it bring up the playlist. There at the very bottom you see that a new song was added two minutes ago. But not just any song, no. You know this one. You know this one well. You tap on the song hearing the familiar and haunting guitar riff of ‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None the Richer start to play through your phone speakers.

You can’t help but to laugh, a smile of shock has your jaw hanging wide open as you stand in your giant fancy hotel room, listening to what you consider to be a fairly romantic song sent straight to you from none other than your knight in shining, well, corduroy, armor. You couldn’t even picture him listening to this song, and somehow that almost made it a little better. 

As the chorus plays you fall backwards onto your bed, the fluffy white sheets enveloping you as a giddy feeling swirls through your chest. He’s thinking about me. He’s thinking about that kiss. You felt guilty for thinking about it, but now? Now you weren’t feeling so guilty. He liked it just as much as you did, clearly. 

Jake Kiszka liked kissing you. 

You. 

What?

You couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of your face if you had to. You didn’t want to. This was quite possibly the most thrilling thing that has happened to you in months. Years! You had all but forgotten about creepy bar man at this point, but god you have half a mind to walk right back into that bar and shake his hand. 

But, you knew you had to calm down. Take a breath. The song came to a close, leaving the hotel room silent. Your mind was still swimming in bliss, replaying the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his hands held yours, the way he smelled, the way his lips tasted, oh god… He was thinking about your kiss. He all but told you so. 

You were also thinking about that kiss. He wanted you to know he was thinking about it. How can you– Oh. A sly grin spreads across your face as you type into the search bar. 

You find the song you’re looking for, your thumb hovering over the add button as you try to talk yourself out of doing this. It could end badly, terribly, really. He is technically your boss, and you know you shouldn’t be doing this, but. Hey, you’re just the runner. You smile as you watch the little box pop up reading ‘Added’.

Your heart starts to pound. Did he get a notification? Is he asleep? Did he see it? Will he understand? Since when did you start communicating with people through song titles?

You rush back to the playlist scrolling to the bottom and smiling as you press play on the new addition to your shared playlist. It's mere seconds before ‘Do It Again’ by Steely Dan starts to play and you laugh, knowing you are absolutely crazy. Do it again, of course you wanted to do it again. God he probably thinks you’re such a loser. Plot twist, you are, but he doesn't have to know that yet. 

You listen to the song, plugging your phone into the charger and turning off the lamp. You’ve always loved Steely Dan, it reminds you of your dad, but then again who doesn’t it remind of their dad? The song comes to a close, your giddy feeling finally starting to wear off as the exhaustion starts to step into its place. Your eyes feel heavy as you roll towards the nightstand to set your alarm, groaning at how soon it’s coming. You lock your phone and settle into the pillows, letting out a content sigh as you recap the day in all of its insane glory. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the glow illuminating the room for just a brief second. You freeze as you stare up at the ceiling, almost too scared to look. Did he add another song? What if he changed his mind? What if you overstepped? Oh god. You should not have done that. What were you thinking?  

You suck in a breath as you grab your phone, nervously tapping the screen that shows no new songs added, but a text from Jake. 

Jake 🗡

3:04AM: I fully intend to. 

Oh, he definitely saw it.

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[star-eyed-angels]

Stray Kids Reaction | FLUFF | Soft Moments With Your Child

Times you watch them bond with their child

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Sorry for the longer wait on this one, hope you like it 💛

Warnings: none, just some tooth rotting fluff

________

CHAN

When you walk into your home, you expect to find your daughter and husband lounging about. Their favorite pastime of being live in couch potatoes as they watch movies and snack all day.

Instead you’re greeted by music and the sound of giggles

“Channie? Chunhee?,” you call out as you make your way down the hallway. Neither responds to your calls.

You follow the soft music playing into the living room, you feel your heart swell when you walk in to see your husband swaying around the room, your daughter standing on his toes.

You stop in the doorway, neither one having noticed you yet. Your husband sings along, staring down at her. Your daughter giggles, hugging your husband tighter. He smiles leaning down to kiss her head.

She lets go of his hands reaching up to him.

“Daddy will you carry me?” She asks.

He lifts her up without question, continuing his dancing. He continues to sing to her, as she lays against his chest.

You smile as you notice her eyes start to droop closed.

Chan must notice the change as he stays in place, swaying slowly in his spot. And his singing becomes a light whisper. You walk into the room quietly, Chan hears and turns around slowly. Smiling at you shyly. His ears pink up as you give him a knowing look.

“You played her our song?” you whisper, mindful of your sleeping girl.

“Yeah… she wanted me to teach her to dance and I thought I could show it to her,” he whispers back.

“Something for her to have from us.”

His hand continues to soothe down your daughter’s hair softly. A dimpled smile takes over as he looks down at her fondly. Your heart swells at the sight.

“Christopher, if we weren’t already married, I would be down on one knee proposing to you again,” you say, your own grin creeping its way on your face.

He giggles, shyly looking away, the tops of his ears, and back of his neck turning pink once again.

“Shut it you big sap,” he says with nothing but affection coating his words.

Your grin only grows as you lean forward, planting a kiss against his ever-reddening cheeks.

MINHO

Relief fills you as you walk into your home. The house is fairly quiet, except for the sounds of the stove and gentle voices. You make your way towards the sound, throwing your belongings to the side. Your heart warms at the sight in your kitchen, Minho stands in front of the stove, steam steadily rising as he slowly stirs what’s in the pot in front of him. Next to him is your son, Hyunwoo, who’s standing on a chair in front of the counter. He’s quiet as he peers over the counter, head just barely poking over the top.

“We have to stir this for ten minutes to make sure it tastes yummy,” Minho explains softly.

Your son nods, staring between his dad and the pot before him.

“Then we can eat dinner with Eomma?,” he asks excitedly.

Minho hums, using his free hand to ruffle Hyunwoo’s hair.

“Yes buddy, once she gets home we’ll all eat together, okay?”

Okay!”

You softly knock on the doorway, to the kitchen. Minho turns, a smile gracing his face as he looks at you. Hyunwoo turns, teetering as he tries to balance himself on the chair.

“Eomma! You’re home! Look what me and appa are making!” He says, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You smile, easily gliding over to stand behind his chair.

“Smells amazing my loves. Did you help daddy make this?” your voice soft, as you run your hand over his hair affectionately.

“Uh huh! Helped him wash the vegetables and put them in the pot!”

He beams up at you, his smile reminding you of Minho’s baby pictures. You smile, pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head.

“Well, it looks delicious. Tell you what, why don’t you go wash up and we can set the table together, okay?”

He’s all but scrambling off the chair. You steady him as he climbs off, watching him fondly as he dashes down the hallway.

You feel Minho’s arm snake its way around your waist, tugging you to him. You go willingly, wrapping your own arm around him.

“Where’s my kiss? Gave Woo all the attention, what am I chopped liver?” He teases, nudging your head softly.

“Big baby,” you mutter. You still tilt your head, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Glad you’re home,” he says, pecking your lips once more. You press closer to him, relaxing in his hold.

“Me too.”

CHANGBIN

You’re laying against Changbin, a random movie playing on the tv. Your head against his shoulder as his arm rubs up and down the side of your arm. It’s well past the time you should both be asleep, but you’re more than happy to sit here doing nothing with your husband.

The sound of a door slowly creaking open pulls you out of the sleepy haze. You sit up as you hear small footsteps pad their way into the living room. You and Binnie turn just as your son, Junmyeon, stops in the hallway.

In one hand he clutches a small blue blanket, a gift from Changbin, frowning as he sniffles lightly. His small cheeks puffing up like his father’s as he stares back at you.

“Hey baby, what are you doing up sweetheart?” You ask softly.

He rubs his eyes with his fist, his exhaustion clear as he sways slightly.

“Can’t sleep,” he pouts, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Hey it’s okay bubba, come here baby,” you coo, motioning for him to come into the room. He toddles over to where you and Binnie sit on the couch. You open your arms ready to pick him up when he turns towards your husband. Changbin, who’s been quiet this entire time, looks down at him.

“Daddy will you hold me?” Your son asks quietly.

Your husband sits shocked, used to Junmyeon wanting your affection. He is a mama’s boy just like his father. When Changbin still stares in shock, you nudge him quickly.

“Of course bub, come here,” he says, opening his arms. Your son falls into his arms easily. He practically goes limp as Changbin lifts him into his chest. He tucks his face against your husband’s neck. You smile as you watch Binnie lean back on the couch, putting the blanket around Junmyeon’s shoulders. He begins rubbing his hand up and down your son’s back carefully. In less than five minutes you hear the soft snores come from your son.You smile, sneaking a look at Changbin who wears a big goofy grin.

“He asked me to hold him,” your husband whispers, glancing back at your son.

“He did,” you nod, your hand coming up to massage the back of his neck.

“He’s never done that,” he says, mostly to himself. You hum, watching the loving look he gives your sleeping son.

“You okay Binnie?”

“Couldn’t be better. Now come here. Let me hold both of my babies,” His free arm reaches out to pull you against him. You shake your head, but fall back against his side. You smile as your arms curl around his middle, hugging him closer as you get comfortable.

“Never mind, this is much better,” he says, kissing the sides of both your heads.

HYUNJIN

It’s a quiet Sunday in the Hwang household. You’re quietly fixing up snacks in kitchen, Hyunjin sits at the dining table, painting to his heart’s content, and Hwayoung sits in the living room, quietly watching a movie. Or at least she was, until Hyunjin began to paint. From your place in the kitchen you can see her peak over the couch, staring intently at her dad painting.

You don’t think Hyunjin’s ever noticed the way she watches, so encapsulated by the art he creates. That’s where she gets it after all. He gets so engrossed in what he creates that the world turns a little quieter around him. And for her, she gets so engrossed in what he’s doing she can’t find the chance to look away. Her eyes always curious, identical to her dad’s as she watches him bring his art to life.

But you do take notice. Since the day she could sit up, she’s always eyed his work, whether it be his dancing, his singing, or even his painting. Everything he does makes her little eyes sparkle in wonder. Her quiet nature made it hard for her to express the curiosity that sits on the top of her tongue. You never had the heart to push her to ask, only soft whispers of encouragement to ask to join her father. She’d always decline, content to sit and watch from a distance.

Tonight seems different, as she eyes him, her small fingers twitching where they grip the couch cushion. You glance up, seeing her in the same spot. You look down at the snacks you prepare, then glance up to see Hwayoung gone. A few seconds passes before you see her emerge from behind the couch, tentatively walking towards your husband. You hold your breath as she stops a few paces away from him. You can see the way she takes a deep breath before she calls out to him softly.

“Daddy?”

His eyes and towards her immediately, offering her a gentle smile as he sets his paintbrush down, “Hey petal, do you need something?”

“Can I paint with you?” She asks quietly.

There’s a brief pause as you see Hyunjin freeze, like he’s processing what she’s just asked. You smile as you watch him grin, suppressing his urge to shout in excitement.

“Of course you can, my little muse,” he says, voice a little shaky.

Hyunjin lifts Hwayoung with ease, placing her into his lap. He pulls the hairband from his own head, pulling her hair up into a tiny ponytail.

“What do you want to paint, petal?” He asks, eyes already scanning the table.

“Can you teach me to make a flower? I wanna draw them as good as you do,” her voice shy.

Hyunjin nods, already sifting for a good size brush for her.

You’re quiet as you watch them from your spot in the kitchen. You smile as you watch Hyunjin tremble from excitement. You pull your phone out from your pocket, quietly snapping a few pictures, knowing Hyunjin will want this moment engraved forever.

He turns to look at you when the camera clicks, giving you the biggest grin as he looks between your daughter and you. Your smile mirrors his as you walk out with the snacks you’ve prepared, taking your place across the table from them. Ready to watch them paint to their heart's content.

JISUNG

Late night strolls in the park are practically built into your family routine at this point. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that Byeol is a night owl. Her father is a thousand percent to blame due to his own sleep patterns. You don’t mind though, it’s much easier to avoid unwanted reporters and paparazzi hovering to snap photos of you, Jisung and your daughter during the night like this. During the night you practically get the park to yourselves.

The three of you walk along the river, towards the playground you’re all too familiar with. Byeol and Jisung skip ahead in front of you, swinging their arms as they dance around to a made up song from your husband. Their silly antics make you smile, content to watch them good around with each other.

Your daughter giggles, running off ahead, her arms outstretched like an airplane as she sees the playground come closer.

“Look dad, I'm like an airplane!” She shouts, making little whooshing noises as she spins and sways.

Your husband laughs, jogging up to catch her. When he’s close enough, he bends down, grabbing her carefully. Your daughter squeals as jisung lifts her onto his shoulders. He keeps his hand locked around her waist, ensuring she won’t fall off.

“Hold on, okay precious?” He says, waiting for her to let him know she’s ready.

“Okay daddy!” She says, holding his arms in her small hands.

You shake your head, as jisung takes off, making loud airplane noises as he weaves around the park with ease. Your daughter’s laughter floats through the air, her bright smile a carbon copy of your husband’s.

Your heart couldn’t be more full as you pause to watch them. You're quick to take out your phone, recording the two as they zip around the park. Your own laughter bubbles out as you watch the pair get to the playground. Jisung carefully sets your daughter down, making her giggle as he acts like a flight attendant, wishing her safe travels. You see him say something briefly to Byeol before they both take off quickly. You’re two night owls screaming as they race each other to the swing set.

FELIX

You wake up slowly, lulled into consciousness by the sound of cooking and soft music. The blanket falls to your side as you sit up, stretching your arms above your head.

You make your way out of the room being quiet as you get to your daughter’s room. You open the door carefully, expecting her to be asleep, only to find her bed already made. You peek into the room, seeing no signs of your daughter, just then the smell of food floods your senses, your stomach growling at the scent.

The smell of pancakes and fresh coffee only get stronger when you reach the bottom of the stairs. You walk towards the kitchen, following the scent. As you get closer you hear the sound of your husband singing.

You’re greeted by the sight The island covered in fresh food, carefully arranged on their own little platters. Your heart warms at the sight of your husband, cooking breakfast carefully. Your daughter, Myeong, is carefully balanced on Felix’s hip as he cooks. She hums along as he sings, still a little too sleepy to offer much help. She glances back towards the door, noticing you come in.

“Morning mommy!” Her head popping up slightly.

“Good morning, what are my sunshines up to?,” Your voice still rough from sleep.

Felix turns around, smiling brightly when he sees you.

“Good morning pretty, Myeong and I were just making you breakfast,” he says casually flipping another pancake.

You hum, leaning over to kiss your daughter’s head, before placing a soft kiss near your husband’s lips.

“Such a perfect thing to wake up to. Thought I was dreaming for a second when I walked in,” you say, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He laughs, nudging you slightly with his hip.

“Are you telling me I’m not dreamy enough for you on a normal day?,” he teases quietly. With his attention turned to you, he fully neglects the pancake still in the pan, unknowing letting it burn.

“I don’t know, dreamy guys don’t burn their pancakes like you’re doing right now..” you quip back.

He whips around, muttering light curses as he hurriedly flips the pancake before it can burn anymore. You snicker as you hear him haphazardly censor his swears. Your daughter laughs, a small smile on her face as she watches you both bicker. Felix pouts as he adds the pancake to the stack he has so far. The sad pancake is clearly a different shade from the others. You laugh, leaning up to place another kiss to your husband's cheek.

“It’s okay Lixie, you’re still dreamy, even if your pancakes are a little burnt,” you say sweetly. He huffs out a laugh, giving you a loving glare.

SEUNGMIN

You mentally prepare yourself as you hear the mischievous giggles drawing closer. When you feel someone standing behind you, you don’t bother looking up. The laptop in front of you taking all your attention. That is until you feel small fingers tugging on your sweater, and bigger hands ghosting against the back of your neck. The tickling sensation makes you shiver, but you continue typing away on your laptop.

“Kim seungmin, kim seojun.” you say in warning.

Your son giggles louder as your husband snickers, hand continuing to ghost over your sensitive neckœ.

“Babies let me concentrate on my work,” you beg, doing your best not to squirm.

“We’re not doing anything momma!” your son says, though you already feel the light tugs at your sweater starting up again.

“Seungmin,”

“Seojun’s right, I’m not even touching you baby,” seungmin says, even as his fingers graze closer to your neck.

You send a glare behind you as you pause your typing.

“Menace,” you grumble under your breath.

“Menace? What does that mean daddy?” your son, ever the listener, repeats immediately.

‘It means your momma loves me, right honey?”

You roll your eyes, glaring back at him.

“Right, I love him so much I wanna squeeze him to death,” you deadpan.

Your son giggles oblivious to your words. Your husband on the other hand, reaches down pinching your cheek.

“Right back at you baby,” he says sweetly.

You huff, fake biting Seungmin’s hand. He squawks at you, Seojun bursting into another fit of giggles at your antics.

“I have to finish this report for work, give me a little more time, okay?” you say turning to look at them.

“Come on baby, you’ve been sitting here all night, don’t you think you should take a break?” Seungmin says, ruffling your hair.

You sigh, getting ready to reject when Seojun cuts in.

“Please please take a break! Papa and I really wanna watch a movie with you!,” he begs. Part of you curses Seungmin for giving him his goddamn, big brown, puppy eyes. The other part of you melts at the sight of Seungmin’s mini-him with his signature little pout on full display. Seungmin has taught him far too well in getting whatever he wants with that look. You cast one last glance at your laptop, before sighing.

“Alright, my lovely menaces, we can watch a movie, but only one, deal?”

Seojun is yelling in excitement before you can finish the rest of your sentence.

“You know, you really are raising a mini menace,” you say, saving your progress to your laptop. Seungmin hums, resting his chin on top of your head. He rests his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

“Maybe, but he’s our little menace,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your head. You can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

JEONGIN

“Yah! Get back here you little gremlin!”

“Jeongin, don't call our son a gremlin!” you call out.

“Well he’s acting like one!” he fires back, beginning to chase your son.

Your son, Minjun, merely giggles, continuing to weave between the furniture as your husband chases after him. This has been going on for the past half hour, after the pair decided to play a card game. It took five rounds of Jeongin losing before he realized his son was hustling him. Now they’ve been running across the house, your husband ‘seeking his vengeance’.

In reality you know he isn’t mad, in fact he’s delighted to be able to spend time with his son. Touring and constant comebacks make it hard for quality time like this. In fact, if Jeongin were to try hard enough, he could catch Minjun in half a step. Instead he’s perfectly content to chase him around, grin threatening to break through the frown on his face. Minjun squeals as Jeongin finally catches up to him,

“Gotcha!” He says, tossing your son over his shoulder.

You smile as you watch them from your spot on the couch, quietly shaking your head at their antics.

“Mom, save me! Your son cries out as your husband begins swinging him from side to side.

“Your mom can't save you!” Jeongin, says using a fake evil laugh. Your son shrieks through his giggles, gripping onto his dad’s shirt.

“Okay dad! I'm sorry for cheating, put me down, please!” your son tries to surrender.

“Nope! The price for your release just went up.”

Your son squeals as Jeongin begins tickling the backs of his legs and feet.

“Okay! Okay! I'll do anything!” your son cries out.

“Admit that I’m your favorite and that you love me more,” Jeongin says, briefly pausing his tickling attack.

“Hey! That's not fair!” you say, “ you can't bribe our son like that.” You’re mostly joking, but you still shoot a glare towards your Jeongin.

“Sorry baby, that’s my payment,” he shrugs, only sparing you a quick glance, “so what’s it gonna be kid? Admission or life in captivity?”

“You can’t keep me here forever!” Minjun tries, attempting to wiggle free.

“I don’t know… you’re pretty light, I can probably live everyday like this. I think I can dance with you on my back too,” Jeongin says, beginning to dance to his latest choreo. Your son giggles, shaking his head in defeat.

“Okay! You win! You’re my favorite and I love you more!” Minjun shouts.

“Thank you!” Jeongin grins, finally setting your son down. He holds him by his shoulder, giving him a serious look.

“Seriously though, you can’t be doing this with your schoolmates and friends okay? It’s not okay to cheat, even if it may seem fun,” he says firmly.

“I won’t, I promise dad,” your son nods. Jeongin smiles, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“Good. Now teach me how you did it so I can use it against your uncle Changbin.”

[the-kr8tor]

Hi! I hope you're well! I've got a bit of a request (maybe? idk can be whatever u want it to be:D) So- R recently has had their wisdom tooth removed, and I think you've seen how people get so loopy afterwards. I think it'd be hilarious writing Hobie trying to keep a straight face and talk to R rambling on about some random things in the most serious manner he can muster lol

Thank you for requesting! Muah 😘 ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's nervous for no reason, he knows you're alright behind the tooth shaped door but the sound of the drill’s muffled whirring has his spidey senses going haywire. He thinks it's the weird smell of the dentist's office and the stark white of the walls that adds to his anxiety. His leg nervously bounces to the beat of the crappy music that the dentist's assistant keeps playing on loop (torturing him basically.)

He kneads at his temple to get the scraping sound out of his ears, due to his enhanced senses that includes super hearing, he can hear every pull and tug of your tooth, unfortunately. But he thinks you have it worse since you're the one who feels every tug and pull. Or maybe he just hates it when you get hurt, especially if he can't help you or even see you. He curses the tooth shaped door for hiding you from his view. Seriously, who makes a door shaped like that?

With a sigh, the toothy door finally opens, and out you roll out of it in a squeaky wheelchair. Hobie stands up lightning quick to get to your side. The dentist smiles at him with her perfect teeth, hands guiding you out of the sterile room.

“She’s good, don't worry.” The dentist senses Hobie's worry, or she just sees it etched on his face. “Your girl's a bit loopy because of the meds but it'll wear off in a few minutes.”

Hobie kneels down to face you. He almost laughs loudly at your swollen cheek that makes you look like a squirrel that's hiding its nuts inside its mouth. He rubs your knee softly to wake your foggy self based on how glossy your eyes are. Drool drips from the cotton in your mouth and he swears he almost loses it right there and then.

“Hi, love, ready to come home?” Hobie smiles softly like he usually does when he finds you endearing. Despite all the bloody saliva dripping out of your mouth.

“Hat?” You ask, voice murmured by the cotton. Hobie guesses you said ‘what?’ instead of asking for his invisible hat.

Raising your hand to his face, you give him a good pat on his cheek, you then let out a giggle that sounded more like a cackle. It all makes him raise an eyebrow.

“You gave her the good stuff huh, doc?” He asks, never leaving his eyes off your disoriented self.

The dentist chuckles, “just give her paracetamol for the pain and don't let her eat or drink anything for an hour or two if she can help it.”

“Thanks, doc.” Hobie gives her a polite smile while standing back up to his feet. “Ready to walk with me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows knitted, hands balling at your soft pants. You dressed for the occasion, or rather, dressed down for it. You had the foresight to know that you'll be bleeding all over your clothes right after. Like how you are right now with one of Hobie's old band shirts. He clearly doesn't mind since he owns a hundred like them. But he won't miss the opportunity to tease you about it once you're sober and well awake.

You look at him like he told you the copper you gave him is in a poor state. “I hab boyfriend.”

“I know you do, it's me.” He sees the dentist crack a smile. “Get up, love, you'll kick my arse if we miss your episode.”

“Episode?” You once again ask with wonderment.

“Yeah, that dragon show you like so much. Up you go.”

“Dragons?!” Your voice echoes out in the room, like he just told you dragons are real. You stand up quicker than he thought you could. “Really?” Your question cements what he thinks. “They're dragons right? Not wyverns, they're different creatures y’know.” He tamps down a laugh.

Holding you by your biceps, Hobie flicks his eyes behind you and over to the dentist who just shrugs with a grin. “Her tooth was stubborn. Sorry, I could've given her the lighter stuff but she would've felt it.”

“That's alright, doc, this is how she usually is.” He jokes, which you chortle at. Well at least you recognize humour amidst the fog of whatever concoction the dentist gave you. “Thanks again.” He waves goodbye whilst he guides you out of the clinic.

“Why are you so pretty?” You look at him with sparkling eyes like you're about to cry from his sheer beauty. Tapping his chin, cheek squished against his shoulder, you don't look at where you're walking as you continue to admire him in the sun. “So p-pretty…like a-an angel.”

Hobie does all the walking for you, his arms are looped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the pavement. The tips of your shoes grazes the concrete as you squish his cheeks in your hand, making him pout from your cuteness overload.

“An angel? Just last night you called me a dick for eating your mango.” How could he know you were trying to save it inside the fridge?

You giggle, “mmm, mango.”

“I'll buy you a hundred more if you continue to dote on me.” You two finally make it to the van, he thanks his abilities for not getting winded out by the trek.

You lean back dramatically, making Hobie catch you in his arms. You both look like a cover from a romance novel.

“I can't! I have a boyfriend.” You say with your whole heart, and as serious as you can with your mouth full of cotton.

“Fuckin' hell.” He laughs, lifting you back up before someone in the street sees. “I'll buy you some ice cream if you get in the car. Mango or chocolate flavour?”

“I will,” you poke his chest, “not be,” poke “bribed by you–you stranger!” You poke him several times.

Hobie catches your finger mid poke. Leaning closer to your face, he smells the iron from your mouth. You sniff, moving your head away from him with a pout.

“Love,” he says sweetly, catching the back of your head before it falls further back. Laying his forehead against yours, he gives you a minute to recognize him from his warmth alone. He'd give you forever if he can. Holding your hand, he raises it to his chest, letting you feel the familiar thump of his heart. He remembers that you do it whenever he gets home from patrol. “It's me, yeah?”

Hobie doesn't realize the tears brimming in your eyes. He stands up straight at the sound of your quiet sobbing.

“We're gonna miss the dragons.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, the cotton in your mouth threatens to fall out as you weep in the parking lot with him trying his best to wipe the tears while he coos softly at you.

Hobie definitely has his work cut out for him, now to get you home without crying about dragons or acting like he's kidnapping you. Yet, he'd gladly do it all over again if it's you.

[forgeofthenine]

If you're still interested in requests (feel free to ignore, since you've got a lot of 'em!)

How would everyone's favorite tieflings react to their Tav *not* being at the tiefling party, because they've ended up spending the night keeping the tiefling kids entertained in Mol's hideout? Celebrating with them, having fun and goofing off with the kids (and making sure Mol isn't trying to exhtort who she can, by selling firewine around the camp by doing so)

Bonus points if s/o is a bard class~

(2) Asfgghkkkl I was the ask for the s/o/Tav who spent the tiefling party just playing with the kids - I (maybe) forgot to mention that I had the idea of them doing it secretly, or like, getting stuck escorting Mol back because the kids!!! Want to see the hero too!!!

Hi Anon, thank you for the great request! This one was a blast to write and I really enjoyed it, I hope it's what you were after :)

For anyone wondering, this was the WIP referred to as 'adopting all the kids'

The bachelors finding you in the kids cave at the grove instead of at the party

General

The party was just starting to ramp up, making your rounds and catching up with everyone when you see it from the corner of your eye

A small tiefling with a cunning grin and an eye patch sitting on a rock at the edge of the clearing

Sneaking off to the edge of the firelight, with only a sideways glance from Halsin, you finally reach Mol

It really didn't take long for the girl to convince you to leave the party, her threat of upselling stolen firewine was almost enough convincing on its own

The two of you make your way back to the familiar cave that the children like to hide in, cheers being the first thing that meet your ears as Arabella and Mirkon happily rush up to you

The other children stay back but look excited in their own ways, Silfy peeking out behind a blanket wrapped around her, Mattis turning his attention towards you, and Doni letting out a small grunt in greeting

With some light begging from some of the kids (and some egging on from Mol and Mattis) it's not long before you pull out your instrument of choice and start your own party for the group of children

It might've been minutes or hours you were there, you're not sure until you're interrupted

Dammon

Dammon had no intent on going to the party, not only is he not a particularly social person but he also has an entire makeshift forge to pack down

It's when he's stuffing his things into a pack that he sees you and Mol sneaking back through the grove and into your hidey hole

At first he chalks it up to the kids shenanigans but he grows curious at the sound of music emanating from the crack in the wall

Dammon is actually pretty quiet when he starts to make his way down the very tight, very craggy tunnel

That is until he slips and slides the rest of the way down, tumbling out covered in dust and letting out a small cough

The silence is absolutely deafening

"So this is where the real party is? Hope you don't mind me... Dropping in-"

The pun was bad enough for Mol and Mattis to want to kick the blacksmith out but you're quite happy to defend him

Soon he's joined your little group of rascals and you've scrounged him up a drum and the two of you are serenading the kids with a very one of a kind concert

It's only once all of the kids have finally fallen asleep that the two of you clamber your way back out of the cave, Dammon helping to dust you off afterwards

Dammon himself is stuck thinking about how good you were with the kids and how unexpectedly nice the night was, but he knows tomorrow they all get back on the road and he might never see you again

Zevlor

Zevlor, to no one's surprise, had been standing off to the side near Halsin when you left

Ever the wallflower in social situations, he'd seen you sneaking off with Mol

Knowing how much of a handful those kids are, Zevlor decides to go find you both soon after

He's spent this whole time letting the children believe he had absolutely no idea of their secret hiding place, but Zevlor isn't blind

Zevlors careful with making his way down the rocky tunnel, listening to the music that slowly fills the air

The paladin is so quiet in his descent that no one actually realises he's there until he claps at the end of your performance

The kids are all quick to scurry away, except for Mol and Mattis, and it's up to you to try and convince them to let Zevlor stay

It takes a fair bit of convincing but it ends with the two of you regaling the kids with stories of wild adventures

Those stories include musical interludes too at the kids instance

Once all the kids have fallen asleep, curled up around each other or lying on large stones, you and Zevlor make the rounds covering them all with blankets

It's when Zevlor is helping pull you back out of the cave afterwards, feeling the warmth of your hand against his, that he realises how alive you make him feel and how effortless it is to be around you

Rolan

Rolan had spent most of the night drinking and putting on magic shows for his siblings

At some point in the night you'd come and given him applause but the next time he went to look for you, you'd already disappeared

It was Lia that pointed him in the right direction, mentioning you'd gone back to the grove

And so a tipsy, affection-starved wizard decides to stumble his way back to the grove to find you

It's both the sounds of music and the light bleeding through the cracks in the stone that draws him in

And if you think Dammons entrance was grand, Rolans is grander

Accidentally sliding down the last part like a surfer before quickly using his magic to make sure he doesn't fall flat on his face

Of the three bachelors, Rolan is the only one able to convince the kids to let him stay by himself

Showing off a little extra magic helped somewhat

It's then that the kids insist you both entertain them, putting on a join concert/magic show

For Rolan it was like Cal and Lia were little kids again, looking out at the little tiefling faces that are 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing at the magic firework displays

"Ah, my adoring crowd, if you think that was good then behold this-"

You two made a good duo, bantering between yourselves and some of the kids, and putting on a good show till the early hours of the morning

It's only when the two of you make your way back out of the cave, hauling Mols smuggled wine she was planning on upselling, that you sit at the beach and indulge in a shared bottle

It's then that Rolan looks in your eyes, smiling and fatigued, that he realises how much he wants to kiss you

Whether or not he does is something neither of you can remember in the morning

[tremendum]

ok but Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex is so Joel and a younger reader coded.... ugh I just Love Him So Much

wow yes <33 i totally agree with u anon ugh i love that song esp this time of year.... you inspired me! thank u! def recommend listening to this song its so lovely

rating: mature. not nsfw but my blog is 18+ so mdni.       word count: 1.9k  warnings: not much tbh. mentions of alcohol, insecure Joel, soft!Joel <3, unestablished relationship, age gap (Joel is unspecified older), brief mention of Joel accidentally hitting reader in self defense, touch starved joel tbh, reader has a sister thats like it.

masterlist Joel fics: pretty little thing personal lies i've got headaches... Mr. Miller Series fever landmines

Joel hears his name echo as swinging arms plunge down below him, a splash following right after.

a strike of fear pangs through his chest, though he hides it with a glare when Ellie tugs excitedly on his sleeve. "did you see that?" she asks, brows raised. he scowls in response, squinting down to make sure your bobbing body still has all the pieces.

you smile up at him, waving and shouting something that he misses.

his shoes crush over the dust that riddles the crumbling bridge he stands on, the cerulean river calm below. your body is plastered with your wet clothes when, minutes later, you pant up to the two of them with a grin and a cut hand. "the rocks are slippery down there."

Joel stares at you now, jaw clenched slightly at the memory from weeks ago. he'd rolled his eyes then - hadn't spoken to you for the rest of the day, too angry with the recklessness of your leap off the drop, the once-tall cityscape behind you turned to dust by years of turmoil and failed humanity.

and noticing his irritation, for the rest of the day you'd stayed behind him, not trying to speak to him again. instead you whispered with Ellie, sharing secrets like you were high schoolers. when Ellie fell sleep with her head in your lap that night, you'd whispered to him, told him you were sorry. that you hadn't meant to upset him.

he'd pretended to be asleep.

but now, you're the one asleep - body curled slightly, his jacket pulled over you like a blanket as your fist curls around the necklace you'd never taken off. the same one that held a locket your sister had given you - the one you talk about all the time, the one you'd tried to get Joel to try on once.

when you'd tried that, he'd snapped for you to keep your hands away from him. so Ellie had tried it on instead, and you told her it looked very pretty.

guilt seems to find him a lot at night.

your face, illuminated by the moonlight through the grimy windows of the building you'd scouted, is too peaceful, too serene. he has to look away.

something about you settles a very deep melancholy that he cannot understand.

you shift slightly, brows furrowing in that look you get when you're upset or angry or scared - it looks disheartening when you're asleep. he stares with intent, hand on his gun.

he knew you'd wanted to leave before he'd even asked. he'd seen the agony, the confusion, the sadness in your eyes every time he packed up to leave the QZ without you by his side - such a strange reaction from a neighbor.

a neighbor who used to show up every day without fail to try and convince him and Tess to let you in on their jobs. a neighbor who would, instead, wait with a med kit for him to return the next day or the next week.

even in the QZ, he thought of you often.

he'd watch you with your friends, spinning in your own world. it would strike him with a deep longing; the beauty you exude is one that, until meeting you, he'd thought was gone from the world.

you've got music laced in you, in your eyes, your smile, your arms; though you have no reason to. you've lost everything, you keep losing everything, and yet, against all odds, you keep so much life within you that he thinks you may one day burst. something about it hurts his chest.

when he met you, he thought you were naive. a young girl on her own in the Boston QZ, hoping to make extra money smuggling but never being taken seriously.

you never even made it out of the zone until you snuck out after them. Tess had found you first - his heart pangs and he shakes his head, staring at the spot that had bruised on your cheek from when you'd snuck up on them silently and paid for it with the butt of his gun.

and you'd laughed it off, like it was funny. you'd joked about it, teasing him as the purple turned to yellow. all while he stayed awake for nights, staring at the bruise while you slept, his chest heavy and his throat tight.

you've got that piece of life that nobody else has, and he cannot understand it. he doesn't think he ever will.

despite his best efforts, he'd gotten to know you. Tess had liked you. Ellie likes you. he likes you, too. he loves you.

he could tell early on that, for whatever reason, you care about him. now, he wonders if you might even love him too.

he doesn't understand why.

you were well loved back in Boston. he'd seen it - in the hidden basements of bars, the shadows that walked you back to your apartment across from his at night, the same shadows that snuck from your apartments in the morning daybreak.

he'd tried not to stare out the peephole at the frames of lovers you'd taken as they kissed your forehead, hesitating in your doorway before leaving.

he'd seen handfuls of friends wrapped in your arms in the streets, wide smiles and bright cheeks.

there were nights where your friends didn't come around, and you were alone. those were his favorite nights, because you'd invite him over. even when he said no, it still gave him a warm feeling when you'd nod and mutter, next time, then.

you'd been making your own bottles of grain alcohol somehow - you'd invited him to a glass and once he finally took you up on it after months of asking, he'd seen how you'd been hiding them in the hollowed out piano that crumbled in the corner of your tiny apartment.

sitting on the piano bench, you'd told him that you had been in the QZ since you were around Ellie's age - when your sister had left for somewhere in the mountainous West; the two of you had been locked inside this crumbled city forever, she was ready to leave. but you had been scared - too young to travel - and you just couldn't find it in you to say goodbye.

she'd left without you the next day.

that was the night he learned that you played piano, too.

you've still got the music in you, and he doesn't understand why.

he's worried about you.

or maybe, he's worried about himself.

days after you'd jumped from that bridge, the scream of his name from your lips a song of its own, you'd snuck them all across a river.

there had been people tracking you; Joel had kept a tight grip on his shotgun the entire hour, eyes sharp as he'd stared at the woods behind you all, Ellie in the middle, you in front, with your own gun drawn and a stare so strong it'd made his head skip.

you wanted to erase your tracks - but the river current was strong, rising with the snowmelt as you took several steps in. you'd saved them both from the currents and built a strong fire once the threat was cleared and you were miles away.

he'd worried about the curve of your lips, the smile that graced you while he and Ellie were grim and cold. he'd worried about the warmth that your laugh had given his chest.

the fire that night was warm, but you still rolled closer to Joel when you slept. he'd let you. and when he woke up that next morning while you were on watch, he'd found that in his fitful rest, he'd stretched his hand out, towards where you sat. his hand splayed on your calf while your other leg was bent, housing your chin.

you'd just smiled gently down at him when he'd moved his hand quickly, his eyes sheepish. you'd let him.

"Joel?" your voice is very soft. even back in the QZ when he was in bed, your voice would come out and haunt him.

I know you want me.

it takes him a second to register that you've woken up from your sleep and slid up next to him. your thigh is warm where it touches him, but he doesn't dare look down. instead, he sets the gun down, turning to stare at your face.

your eyes are bleary from sleep, your hair tousled. you're so pretty it hurts.

his throat feels dry. "hey." he doesn't mean for his voice to come out that gentle. sometimes, when it's you and him, it just does.

guilt surrounds him as your hand slides over his thigh, burning warm, comfortable. how could something so beautiful exist in such a world? it makes him nervous.

you make him nervous.

"what are you thinking?" you ask. he knows you - knows that's your way of checking on him. you do that, just as he does to you. are you feeling alone?

he shakes his head, "lots of things I shouldn't be." he says honestly, his eyes searching the depths of yours. but you're good to me.. so good to me.

you're not scared of him like you ought to be.

you shrug, "tell me."

he doesn't see the reason to lie anymore; you've been haunting him for too long. and he's been hiding himself from you.

"just don't know why you're with me. with us. here." but he can't bring himself to finish his thoughts - because you, despite it all, loved your life before you left it. because you had lovers, you had friends your age, a life. you were so much safer without me. because you have that music in you, and it's still there despite it all. despite me.

you shift next to him, your cheek falling to his shoulder. he doesn't feel the urge to shake you off like he used to - that feeling melted away months ago, shortly after the desire to put his lips on yours burned in his soul.

"I just think you underestimate how much you mean to me." you say, eyes full of too much light.

he sees that music again; the unrelented spirit in your cheeks when you smile. the laughter that hasn't left you even when you left your old life behind for him and a girl you didn't know. tell me why, tell me why.

he doesn't know what to say, but his head turns gently to place a kiss to the crown of your head.

he nearly feels sick at the implications of such an action, but you just sidle up closer to him, your hand squeezing his thigh gently. he turns to look at you and you move off his shoulder, lifting your own eyes to meet his.

his breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, love and trust in your eyes. the locket glints in his peripheral as he stares down at your glowing, beautiful face.

your lips, my lips.

he intends to kiss your forehead - the way he'd seen all those lovers do months ago, back in Boston. the way he'd always ached to.

but you meet him halfway, and suddenly your warmth is on him.

it spreads from his lips and grows through his body - a beautiful, melancholic hum that sings along his veins. you are soft, you are pliant, strong, loving.

everything he doesn't deserve.

and yet you kiss him and you let your hand fall to his jaw, tilting yourself to feel more of him. he doesn't understand why, but maybe that's okay.

he kisses you back softly, then desperately.

your lips and his, something so kind, full of life. something that doesn't belong in such an apocalypse.

something he couldn't live without.

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(once again begging) send more requests! for Joel and Din! taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeiaaa @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers @alltheseperfectimperfections @whorror-s @scarletthefierce @worhols @hearthrooob

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[deathbecomesthem]

Roomies 5

Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader | 2.2K - Previous

*This series will/does contain smut, angst, and fluff. Each chapter will have its own warnings for any potential triggering contents.

Chapter Summary - We are spiraling. Eddie is a rock. A shared best friend is in town for a visit. We've got some angst and bad behavior by our reader. The next chapter will feature more time with the shared best friend, and some important air clearing.

---

“Do not -” Eddie’s hand is on your reaching hand pinching the head of the arm on the record player that’s currently playing Black Sabbath. You’re not a fan, but you know the sound of Ozzy’s voice from the many years of friendship with Eddie. “- make me listen to your shitty music tonight. I’d rather sit in silence.”

“Don’t be a dick, Munson. Bikini Kill isn’t shitty. You’re just used to listening to that male chauvinistic garbage. You’re brainwashed into hating the girl bands fighting against that way of thinking.” The dig shouldn’t have much sting, it’s one you use a lot. It can be tiring defending your musical tastes all the time, and you know Eddie understands that. 

His response isn’t the normal finger flick to your forehead, though. His face drops, and he lets go of your hand. “Uh, fine. Put it on if you want.” He turns to head back to the kitchen where the boxes of Chinese food are set up on the counter. No fight. He caved, he didn’t set you straight. He didn’t explain that his reasons for not liking the punk riot grrrl bands has nothing to do with their message, which he agrees with. He just lets you win. 

Instead of Bikini Kill’s Demi Rep, you reach for Alice in Chains’ Dirt. Neutral ground. Sliding the disc from its sleeve, you wonder what new mines you might find hiding under the field of your friendship now. What else has changed without you realizing it. You wonder if every single interaction will be like this until eventually you’re both too exhausted to deal with it. And then what? You know what. And then it all fades away.

“So,” you approach Eddie from behind, hands clasped behind your back as if in private prayer, “what treats did you procure from Main Moon this fine evening?” You rest your chin on his arm, sneaking a peek at the inside of the containers as he opens them. “Oooooohhhh, you got spare ribs!”

Eddie laughs and mutters, “can’t disappoint my best girl, can I? Not when she gets that sauce all over her face every time she eats them.” You don’t see it coming before it’s too late. An arm wraps around your neck, and you're in a headlock you can’t twist yourself out of. He caught you off guard in a vulnerable moment, and now Eddie’s got sauce on his finger ready to spread it on your nose.

“Eddie, let me go!” You flail, but Eddie’s bicep remains firm, holding you against his side. 

“Oh, Angel, we’re just getting a head start on the mess you’re gonna make.” Eddie’s laughing while his finger makes a meandering journey from the tip of your nose to your forehead. He even managed to get some on the inside of your left nostril. He releases you, grabbing your arm before you stumble too far and fall, and stands back to admire his handiwork. “Oh, you’re looking very beautiful. You should let me do your makeup more often.”

“You idiot,” you try and fail to keep laughter out of your voice, “I’m not eating the rib you just finger fucked. That one’s yours, Buddy.” 

—

It was that takeout dinner, shared on the couch in your shared living room, that took the edge off. Eddie set the tone. The doubts started to calm. The looks between the two of you might last too long, there might be more excuses made to touch, but the fear that the end of your friendship had arrived dissipated. The routine set in. It was a relief.

When Friday night rolls around, you’re ready for a break. Three days off in a row. A miracle worthy of celebration. Convenient that your favorite spot happens to be below your apartment, and that you’re friends with the bartender. Heavy pours and free booze, and a short commute home. Ronnie’s in town for the weekend, the missing piece in your friendship with Eddie. The third Musketeer. 

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Ronnie is close to your vanity’s mirror with a black eye pencil skating across her lower waterline, “he’s gonna shit his pants.”

“I’m just happy he’s got the rest of the weekend off. I thought I might have to spill the beans to get him to do it.” You’re rifling through your bag of lipsticks looking for the burgundy that’s your favorite. “He’s probably going to fucking murder me when he realizes I’ve been keeping your trip a secret.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him.” Ronnie fluffs her hair a little and adjusts the waist of her jeans, “last time he was supposed to go east to see me, he was neck deep in that waitress. Remember her? The one with the huge tracts of land?”

“How could I forget? She was the reason I didn’t see Eddie for 3 months. I thought he was gonna marry her or something stupid like that.” You laugh a little, ignoring the way your mind tries to compare yourself with the girl that Eddie was obsessed with only 6 months ago. 

“What are we dealing with now? Any ladies I need to fight for his attention? He never tells me shit about his love life, but I definitely got the feeling the last time we talked that there was someone.”

You laugh, and hope that Ronnie doesn’t look too closely at the way your smile sits strangely on your lips, “I don’t know. Where Eddie decides to stick his dick is really not something I think about a whole lot. But I haven’t seen any evidence of a girl in the apartment.”

Ronnie looks at you with her head cocked and says, “Except for you, of course.”

“Oh, sure. Except for me. We both know I don’t count.”

—

Garland wrapped in Christmas lights runs along the outside counter of the bar. You’re happy to find most of the booths and barstools empty. You were worried that Eddie might be too busy to enjoy the presence of Ronnie when he’s trying to work. It really feels festive, you can smell a hint of cinnamon in the air and wonder if it’s the Christmas ale that they have on tap this time of year. And there’s Eddie, standing in the corner with a Santa hat sitting crooked on his head, and a tall blonde tugging on the end of his hair with a wide grin on her face. 

“Who’s that?” You’ve forgotten that Ronnie is behind you for a second and you jump at the sound of her voice, “they look friendly.”

“I have no idea. Maybe she’s the new bartender,” your voice is quiet, afraid to draw his attention to you. You consider turning on your heel and heading back upstairs, but can’t with Ronnie here. “Let’s, uh, let’s go say hi.”

Eddie turns and catches sight of Ronnie, his oldest friend. His closest friend, next to you. Like a shot, he pushes past the blonde woman standing next to him to bring her into a big bear hug. They’re rocking back and forth and Eddie’s sparkling eyes are shining on you. He mouths, you’re dead, and then kisses Ronnie on the top of her head.

He hugs you next, holding you tight in his arms. It’s something that he hasn’t done in recent days, a familiar thing that reminds you that this is Eddie. Your Eddie. The smell of smoke and Old Spice and the feel of his stubble on your forehead make you forget the way only moments ago you were full of dread. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell you she was coming.”

“She wanted it to be a surprise. She’s been missing you.” you say into his chest, not wanting to break apart from his embrace just yet. You’ve been missing him too, despite the fact that you see him every single day. Eddie pulls away and puts an arm around both you and Ronnie.

“Consider me surprised. I can get out of here early, maybe. It’s dead, and Laney can close up.” Eddie turns his head to call back to the girl that’s made her way back behind the bar, “what do you think? You think you can handle closing alone?”

“Sure, Eddie.” She smiles at him, and turns to the old man sitting at the end of the bar. She rests her elbows on the bar, hip jutted to the side and you catch a glimpse of a line of red fabric - a thong - poking out from the hem of her jeans.

“Laney, huh? She looks like she’s got some talents.” Ronnie shrugs out from under Eddie’s arm and sidles up to a bar stool. You look up and see Eddie averting his eyes from the ample derriere of the bartender in question. You can see his cheeks darken under the Christmas lights.

“She’s an excellent bartender, and we’re lucky to have her. Shut up, and maybe I’ll get the two of you some free drinks.”

—-

Shots on shots on shots. Round 3, and the feeling that this is a mistake has already started to pass. Now it’s just fun. It’s warm. You’re loose. Fear is a distant memory, and your lips move without the barrier of common sense. Eddie’s red rimmed eyes are on the girl behind the bar, again. It’s not in your head, because you see Ronnie shaking her head on the other side of him. 

“One more round for me and my friends, Baby.” Eddie’s low voice hums through his chest, and you see the way his thumb runs across the back of Laney’s hand when he passes her a $20.

“No problem, Eddie.” She answers back, and her tongue flicks against her lips before she turns towards the cash register.

“Subtle.” You bite your words into the moment, causing both friends next to you to turn their attention to you. “Don’t let us stop you. You’ve been eye fucking each other all night. Might as well get it out of your system so you can maybe pay attention to Ronnie for more than 10 seconds.”

“Hey now,” Ronnie reaches around behind Eddie, “we’re good.” She’s squeezing your forearm in an attempt to ground you before things escalate. 

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve been rude all night for no reason.” Ronnie’s arm drops at Eddie’s words. 

“You’re rude, Eddie. I can’t do this.” The room has started to tilt, and you can feel the words tangling in your head. “I’m going for a walk. Have fun.” You lean over the bar and shout in the direction of the bartender, “Good night, Laney. I hope you and Eddie are very fucking happy together.”

The humiliation rises inside you like a tsunami as you stumble over your feet and down the steps outside of the bar and onto the sidewalk. It’s cold, but you can’t feel it, the whiskey is keeping you warm from the inside out. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you wonder if you could sleep in your car tonight. You wonder if there’s somewhere you could go. 

Instead, you circle the block and peek into the frosty windows of the bar. Eddie and Ronnie are getting up from their barstools, and Laney is leaning over the bar to give Eddie a kiss on the cheek. You start up the stairs full of shame, anger, and confusion. You’re going to bed, and you’ll pretend to be asleep before Ronnie crawls in next to you. You know that this time, the light of the morning will only put a spotlight on your bad behavior. 

—-

The sunlight sneaks in through the blinds, and your eyes crack open to see the room spinning in front of you. You groan, and an arm wraps around your waist. Ronnie. You see a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting on your bedside table. You sit up a little and take 2 pills with a small sip of water. And another sip. One more, and then it hits you. The things you said last night. 

“Oh no, what did I do?” You ask yourself. And then you notice that the hand around your waist is bigger than it should be. You should have known by the smell of him, that scent that calms you and makes you feel cared for.

Eddie’s fully dressed and laying on top of your blankets, face pressed into the pillow you bought specifically for Ronnie to use while she stayed with the both of you. He must have - what? - been worried about you and passed out while checking on you? Probably. You’re surprised Ronnie didn’t crawl in between the two of you, sharing a bed is something the three of you have done many times. 

You lay back down and push your face into Eddie’s chest. You’ll take his comfort for now. Let the sadness and humiliation leak out of your eyes and onto his cotton shirt. For now, you breathe in the smell of his neck, and let his curls tickle your cheek, thankful for the opportunity to steal this peaceful moment before the questions need to be answered.

[youryurigoddess]

A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop and its statues

To start off, you have to be warned that the former set was almost completely destroyed in the S1 bookshop fire and whatever wasn’t important enough to be salvaged before the shooting had to be replaced afterwards. Which means that a few memorable and already identified pieces aren’t there anymore, for better or worse.

This is going to be another long analysis, and certainly not a full one — I’ll describe only the big picture and the most important props. A continuation focusing on the decorations in the less prominent parts of the bookshop will follow here.

Right at the entrance we can see twin tables with the Marly Horses by Guillaume Coustou the Elder. The sculptures showing two rearing horses with their groom were originally commissioned by Louis XV of France for the entrance to château de Marly, a royal residence near Versailles.

In S2 Crowley is shown consistently using one of the horses, partially out of convenience, partially in line with a returning throughout the season dark horse theme. Ironically, the symbolic harnessing of a wild animal mirrors the supposed domestication of the demon by his angel, as seen in the transformation of the statue to the right from the entrance into an altar of his submission.

After all, there’s nothing more vulnerable to Crowley than losing the usual protection of his shades, and using a horse sculpture as a stand for his sunglasses speaks volumes about his natural aptitude towards uncertain and liminal states. He thrives in stress situations, dangles his feet while hopping onto a curb, and assumes the form of a non-Euclidean fluid when asked to sit down in a chair. Stability isn’t exactly what he’s most comfortable with. So what for Aziraphale signifies the power over his (theirs?) own domain and ultimate safe space, for Crowley means a challenge.

It makes sense that this particular spot near the exit is where the demon feels most secure in the bookshop, his favorite place in the world. That’s where he stood after crossing its threshold in 1941 too.

The statue in the middle, right on top of the central bookstand, was replaced after the S1 fire. It’s still clearly a Cupid, but in a different pose and without his weapons — instead of shooting an arrow, now he’s holding his left hand over his head, pointing up towards Heaven or God. Quite a change. This is the most similar copy made after Ernest Rancoulet. The butterfly-like wings (similar to the ones Rancoulet used in his La Nuit Tout Repose, At Night Everything Rests) on the copy in the bookshop have visible screws, so they were probably added either by the previous owner or the Good Omens art department.

What’s especially important from the analytic point of view is that similarly to S1, the Cupid in question still appears in the frame facing Crowley, but not targeting him anymore, like it used to, but rather mirroring. The most memorable example appears during the Final Fifteen™ when the demon points up with left hand to highlight his “No nightingales” line.

This one will be fun! Everyone, meet George Maxim’s bronze allegory of Music in her full glory. Angels like music in general, right? And Aziraphale is a known audiophile, which was asserted in the very first episode of the new season. But there’s another link to music in his angelic roots. A rather apocalyptic one — the Archangel Raphael is believed to blow the trumpet from a holy rock in Jerusalem to announce the Second Coming (the Day of Resurrection), and Israfil, its Islamic counterpart, Qiyamah (the Day of Judgment).

Staying in the very same context, let’s read the ballad Israfel by Edgar Allen Poe, which was obviously inspired by the titular Archangel.

Nothing on Earth lasts forever — but that’s exactly the reason why we should use it for inspiration, savor this momentary bliss, and hold it in our hearts. The ballad shares the same sentiment about all creation being temporary and only the passions of angels (i.e., Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s feelings) staying eternally unchanging as Aziraphale’s “Nothing lasts forever”. His line was intended as an affirmation of his feelings, similar to “You go too fast for me, Crowley”.

And just like the Cupid is mirroring Crowley in the “No nightingales” line, Music is targeting Aziraphale with her harp in the following frame.

On the counter there’s a smaller bronze statue, which original unfortunately remains unidentified, but I was able to track some similar designs. A woman coming back from the harvest with crops — either a representation of Autumn or the Greek goddess Demeter bringing a blessing of a plentiful harvest. In the Bible, the harvest is a metaphor for both spiritual fruitfulness and judgment. Our productivity in God’s kingdom is supposedly tied to our faith and obedience. And the most popular verses repeat an even older saying, how one reaps what they sow:

Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. (Galatians 6:7-8)

And another angel came out of the temple, calling with a loud voice to him who sat on the cloud, “Put in your sickle, and reap, for the hour to reap has come, for the harvest of the earth is fully ripe.” (Revelation 14:15)

The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. (Jeremiah 8:20)

If you read The summer that was never supposed to end meta, you’ll interpret the figure itself as a rather ominous sign. Now let’s add to it positioning right next to the gigantic Victorian cash register one cannot possibly overlook and the recurring theme of payment. And the fact that it conveniently disappears at some point in The Ball (S02E05) episode, never to be seen again. Is the payment reminder not needed anymore, because its day just came?

For some reason ever since S1 this one was often interpreted as a bust of Alexander the Great by the fandom. The proper name is the Head of a Victorious Athlete, also known as Benevento Head. As this suggests, the originally bronze sculpture represents a victorious athlete wearing an olive crown and was found near Benevento in Italy, in the remnants of the ancient town Herculaneum, wiped off from the face of the earth together with Pompeii in a tragic volcanic eruption (which was conveniently used later on as a more modern example of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah). It’s an obviously Roman copy of a Greek sculpture and dates back to 50 AD, less than a decade after Aziraphale and Crowley met in Rome in 41 AD— who knows, maybe they were still around at the time? This would make an interesting connection to the statue Crowley brought back to his apartment in 1941.

And no, in the HD quality and especially en face it doesn’t appear similar to Crowley. In fact, there seems to be a very good reason why most photographers choose another, more flattering angle for this particular artwork. But aesthetics aside, the white bust seems more like a mirror for Aziraphale and his self-constructed (and self-imposed) idealized image, based on a specific set of virtues. The presented athlete is victorious because he’s the epitome of the Platonic Triad of higher Forms: Truth, Beauty, and Excellence, understood in the wider context of the Greek Aretē.

To highlight this point, in S1 the head was literally used as a designated display place of the medal Aziraphale got as a commendation for his 6000 years on Earth in the 1800 cut scene. As a free agent not affiliated with Heaven in S2 he doesn’t hang it there anymore, but the medal is still in the bookshop, visible on his desk. You can see it in detail and read the description of its provenance in the last bookshop meta.

Daedalus and Icarus are a very popular motif in the history of art, but certainly not in this overtly masculine, military style. Icarus was too ambitious for his own good and ignored explicit instructions, which constitutes both the sin of pride and that of disobedience to one's parents (or one’s Creator?).

Interestingly, there’s also a version of the myth in which Icarus fashioned himself greater than Helios, the Sun himself, and the god himself punished him for it with the fall — which resonates very strongly with my vision of Crowley both in relation to his Fall and potential S3 development.

But back to Aziraphale. If the medal in question was given to him as a commendation he from the Supreme Archangel himself, it also serves as a warning for him to not get too arrogant or comfortable with his accomplishment (i.e., life on Earth) or it might lead to his fall (or, in this case, Fall).

Foreshadowing much?

[sturnsiolos0]

Only you-Matt Sturniolo

(i just made up some random name for the other girl in this story if your confused who tf Claire is lmao)

It's deep into the evening when you finally arrive, having taken the time to get ready for the party your friends had organized for the new year. Music thrums through the thick air of the dim room, the lyrics lost among the heavy bass and buzzing chatter. As i walk in my attention eventually passes to the living room where you would find Matt draped over one of the chairs, surrounded by Chris and Nick, with Claire no doubt trying to hang off of whichever of Matt's limbs she could get her hands on.

The thought of her touching your boyfriend sends a jolt of resentment coursing through your veins, acid green and putrid in its toxicity, and your lip curls in distaste. Claire and him hooked up once or twice at parties in the past, and now she believes they belong together or something of the sort.

Someone offers you a cup of something as you pass by a table stacked up with piles of half-empty liquor and you accept it with a cool smile, tossing it back and hissing at the acrid burn. You begin to weave through the clusters of people towards the sight of a familiar dark head of hair.

As anticipated, Claire is sat as close as she physically can beside Matt as he lounges on the two-seater, her hands skimming his arm as she cackles at something Chris had said, and your eyes narrow in irritation. She regards you in a similar manner when you emerge from the crowd, a sneer tugging at her features as she dares to lean closer to Matt, who had turned from his conversation with Chris completely ignores her in favour of assessing your attire with rapt attention.

His eyes roam your body, you wore a simple black mini-dress, lingering on the expanse of your bare legs the hint of cleavage that peeks out from the deep plunge of its neckline. His hands reach out, fingers digging into your hips possessively as he pulls you forward, and you happily drape yourself over his lap, fighting against the urge to shoot Claire a smug smirk and instead recieve a hungry caress of Matt's lips against your own.

"Careful, darling." You murmur, reaching up to wipe away the lipstick remnants that stain his lips red.

"Would you want a drink, Matt?" Claire asks as she shifts closer, and you turn to him to hear his answer.

"No."

You hide your snicker at his blunt response by taking another swig of your drink, your eyes rolling on their own accord when she fails to take the hint and continues to probe. "Are you sure? I'm going to get myself another drink anyway, it'll be no trouble."

"I said no. I don't drink." He snaps, casting a scowl in her direction as his grip flexes on your hips.

"Could you get me another whilst you're at it please?Since you're so kind to ask. " You chirp sweetly as she stands, reveling in her snarl. "Thanks, Claire."

She storms off, shoving her way though the dancing crowd, and you finally relax in Matt's hold, shifting to rest your head against his shoulder as he leans back into the plush couch. Matt's head tilts towards you, and you glance up, lashes fluttering as his sharp nose skims your cheek before his smirking mouth finds your ear.

"You're terrible." He murmurs, nipping at the shell of your ear. Giggling, you pull away to meet his eyes, a languid smirk tugging at your features as you reach up to caress his jaw with your free hand.

"You love it."

He leans into your touch and hums in agreement, the low reverberations thrumming against your side pressed tight to his chest, and you shiver in delight at the hunger that darkens his eyes, his gaze only straying to focus on your lips as they wrap around the bottle. Slipping your hand from his jaw to curl around the back of his neck, you toy absently with the short brown strands, fingers carding through the locks as your nails scratch at his scalp.

Claire is quick to return, thrusting the new bottle at you; Matt's hand darts out to snatch it from the air as she lets go, and he rests the cool glass on your thigh as you drain the remaining of your drink before leaning down to place the empty bottle on the ground.

"Are you having a good time?" Claire asks as she returns to sitting too close to Matt. You know the question is directed at him, know that she's trying to gauge the situation and find an angle to flirt with him, and you regard her with pursed lips and a raised brow.

"Sure." Is all he says, turning to join in on Chris and Nick's conversation. But it doesn't stop Claire; instead, she reaches out and clings to his sleeve.

"Oh, Matt. I can see the annoyance in your eyes. Isn't this party awful!" She sneers, eyes darting around the room as she struggles to latch onto something to tear down. "I mean, look at what she's wearing.. how trashy can you get!"

She jabs her finger in the direction of a girl dressed in a startlingly similar outfit to yours, and you scoff - partially at her sheer audacity, but also in amusement at the frustration that mounts on her face when Matt doesn't even grace her with a half-glance. Still, she continues on, making comments and butting into their conversation at every opportunity, calling Nick an idiot and completely cutting Chris off mid-sentence.

Irritation clouds Matt's expression, his brows pinching into a scowl, and so you lean close to his ear and whisper, "Wanna dance?"

He glances between you and the writhing people, considering your offer before shaking his head in dismissal.

"You sure, baby?" You check, and he nods in confirmation, so you shrug to yourself and continue to lounge in his lap, sipping at your drink and trying to enjoy the languid caress of his cool fingers on your bare thigh. You manage it for another minute before Claire's ceaseless attempts at gaining Matt's attention push you to stand suddenly. "I'm going to get another drink, that okay?"

Slipping through the crowds of dancing bodies, you discard your empty bottle at the end of the table before snagging a half-empty bottle of whiskey and, after coming up empty-handed in your quest to find a cup, you settle on drinking straight from the bottle. Wiggling your way back through the crowd, your jaw drops in disbelief when you catch sight of Claire leaning against Matt's shoulder, reaching up to brush his hair back from his forehead. Your shock only continues to skyrocket when you notice that Matt doesn't even bother to push her away.

Jaw clenching, you turn away from the scene to get lost amidst the masses of grinding bodies. If Matt didn't want to dance, fine, but you wouldn't let it stop you from having fun. At least, that's what you told yourself, trying to replace the stinging in your chest with the flames of whiskey that licked its way down your throat, dousing the rational side of you and igniting the urge to make Matt feel what you felt.

You lean back into the body behind you when heavy hands find your waist, eyes closed and head thrown back as you grind and writhe in sync with the stranger, washing away the guilt with another swig of whiskey. You're not sure how long you danced, but one minute there are hands guiding your hips, and the next, you're being snatched away by cold hands digging into your arms, yanking you into a familiar chest. Glancing up, you find Matt snarling at the guy you'd been dancing with just moments before, a blur of insults and curses falling from his lips.

Frowning, you try to tug yourself free of his grip, shoving at his chest. "Let go," You snap, matching his furious scowl with your own. "Go back to Claire, you two looked like you were having fun."

Matt scoffs, eyes narrowed. "Are you being serious right now?"

One hand tightens its hold of your arm, slender fingers forming an iron band around your bicep whilst the other snatches the near-empty bottle from your hand and shoves it into the unsuspecting grip of a nearby person without looking at them. Matt ignores your complaints in favour of dragging you away from the crowd and leads you to his bedroom. He yanks the door open and glaring at the couple making out in the corner of the room to get the fuck out.

As soon as they scramble out, Matt slams the door shut and immediately twists the lock. Eyes, liquefied silver from the heat of his rage, lock with your own as he walks you backwards until your back presses firmly against the door, pinning you there with a glower that you might have shrunk away from if not for the copious alcohol coursing through your system.

"What the fuck did you think you were going to achieve out there?" He snarls, and you huff, arms crossing tight across your chest as you roll your eyes in a play at disinterest.

"That's rich coming from you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Claire, who the fuck else?!"

"I told Claire to fuck off ages ago and she finally took the hint. You were too busy fucking about with that asshole to notice!"

"She was all over you!" You snap defensively, shoving at his chest as your vision blurs with tears of frustrated anger.

"Don't be ridiculous! How many times do I have to tell you that I don't care about her?" Matt demands, and you stubbornly refuse to meet his steely gaze. He growls, jaw clenched taut, before suddenly his hands are snatching at you, one snaking around your waist to yank you flush to his chest, his other weaving into your hair as he slams his mouth to yours.

The kiss is primal, fueled with rage and irritation and an animalistic urge to claim, and your teeth clash with the force. You struggle against him for a moment, the memory of Claire caressing Matt's face flaring your anger bright, before you cave, hands fumbling to find purchase on his arms, his shoulders, his back.

Matt refuses to loosen his grip, yanking your head back further as he deepens the kiss, biting at your lower lip and dominating your tongue, laying claim to every inch of your mouth.

Your nails rake down his back, trying to pull him closer, and you tug at his shirt in an attempt to reveal the smooth planes of his pale chest. Matt pulls away for a second, teeth grazing your jaw before meeting your eyes; jealousy swims in your eyes, mirrored in his own, and he pulls at your hair once more, your gasping throat displayed in a bare arch, ready and waiting to be marked up by Matt's possessive mouth.

"I told you that I don't care about her." He hisses, leaning down to nip at your neck. "I don't care about anyone else but you."

Teeth bared, you entwine your fingers in his hair and guide him back to your mouth, kisses hungry and desperate to put proof to his words. You knew, deep down, that it was true, but by God did he know how to test you. Matt's mouth wanders back to your throat, sucking harshly to paint the untainted skin with visible displays of his presence, whilst his other hand loosens its grip on your ass to impatiently yank your dress up, the tight material bunching at your hips.

Cool fingers thrust their way into your panties, dragging through your soaked folds possessively, and he hisses in your ear, nipping at your lobe. Your hands trip over themselves to wrestle with the fastenings of his trousers, fumbling with his belt buckle and unzipping them with shaking fingers. Finally you manage to pull his cock free from the confines of his clothing, only for Matt to slap your hands away.

"Don't touch, just do as you're told." He bites out, eyes glinting, and you nod, watching with glazed vision as he grips his cock, fingers glistening from your own slick that he'd gathered. "Get rid of them."

The tip of his dick nudges at your panties, and you yank them down as far as his hold on your hair will let you.

Matt drags his cock though your wet pussy, thrusting against your folds and coating his length, bumping at your clit and catching at your entrance, and you can only whine desperately as your nails embed themselves in his arms. Matt's grip on your hair loosens in favour of dropping to wrap his arm around your ass.

"Jump up, baby."

You follow his instructions, and he lifts you up, your legs curling around his waist reflexively. He settles your weight against the door again, grip slithering up your body, pausing to pinch at your nipples through the material of your dress, before his hand curls its way around your throat, fingers settling against the thrum of your erratic heart as his thumb grazes your jaw.

Matt watches you through heavy lids as he continues to drag his cock through your folds, watches your heaving chest and gasping mouth, revels in the way you fall apart at his touches. He can't understand why you would let that scum touch you at the party, scowls at the painful clenching in his heart and the curdling jealousy that settles in his stomach at the thought, and so he leans in and takes another heated kiss that you gladly give him.

You choke on your moan when Matt suddenly thrusts into you, pussy spasming at the sudden intrusion before jerking your hips forward, desperate for more, needing to be filled by Matt entirely. His grip tightens on your neck as he pulls out an inch before thrusting all the way in, and you gasp for breath as you shift up the door an inch, eyes fluttering at the flood of sensations throughout your body.

Matt wastes no time in setting a brutal pace, shallow thrusts dominating over long, languid strokes, and you whine desperately, walls clenching and hips writhing as you seek out more.

"Why don't you believe me?" He grunts, ramming his cock deeper as he grits his teeth. "Why do you think I want her? I have to prove myself to you?"

You struggle to answer, your mind barely able to formulate words, let alone a sentence, and so you can only meet his eyes and moan in earnest.

"I only want you. There's no one else I'd have like this. No one else I'd fuck like this. Only you."

Obscene whines escape you with every thrust at his declarations, his hips slamming you into the door as if it could drive home the truth. You nod frantically, gasping as his hand flexes against your throat before slipping to cup the back of your neck, cradling your head, and finally you can babble incoherent nonsense in an attempt to reassure him that you believed him, knew that he wanted no one else but you.

"Only you... only you, Matt. Please, ah, yes... no one else! Fuck, please!"

"Who do you want?" He demands, needs to hear you say it directly.

"You, Matt, only you." You cry, clinging desperately to his arms as if he were a lifeline. "Matt, please..!"

Matt's grip shifts, his arm coiling tight around your waist as he spins to lean his back against the door, holding you up as he begins to fuck your pussy with reckless abandon. His thrusts become erratic, rhythm falling away as he chases his release, and your fingers find your throbbing clit as you seek out your own climax. It hits you suddenly, walls clenching and trembling as Matt's cock continues to slam into you, and you're faintly aware of his name being screamed, but you're too busy seeing stars to realise that you're the one screaming it.

Seconds later, although it could have been hours for all you knew, Matt's orgasm hits, his release coating your walls in thick ribbons as a strangled moan spills from his lips. He slowly slides down the door, softening cock still buried deep within your spasming pussy, and you collapse against his heaving chest, his shirt damp with sweat as your legs remain wrapped around his waist, caught between his body and the door.

"Do you believe me now?" He mumbles, suddenly gentle as he reaches up to brush sweat-damp strands of hair away from your flushed face, fingers grazing your cheek as he stares down at you.

You can only nod, pressing a soft kiss to the pink-tinged skin of his exposed throat. "I'm sorry."

Matt acknowledges your whispered apology with a delicate brush of his lips to your crown. "I know, so am I. I was a complete dick.."

Snorting in amusement, you snuggle closer to his chest. "Well, I was a complete bitch."

His lip quirks up in a smirk as he recalls an earlier conversation. "You're terrible."

"You love it."

[sunshinevanfleet]

karma - j. kiszka

pairing: jake x reader

a/n: hello! i'm gifting you all some enemies to lovers jake smut <3. i worked really hard on this one so i hope it's okay. this one is college!au jake. it's not edited so pls forgive me for any silly mistakes. also if you're sensitive to bullying (not really but? if you squint) then pls don't read. ok love u all!!!

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), enemies to lovers

word count: 4.6k

summary: the reader is locked out of her dorm room late at night, with no way inside. her only escape is the man she can't stand, jake kiszka.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, explicit sex scenes, etc.

Karma sure was a bitch. 

Sitting in the hallway floor of your dorm building, well past 2 AM on a Wednesday morning, you were beginning to wonder what you did to deserve this. Soaking wet from the rain, missing a shoe, and locked out of your dorm room, you were pleading with every force in the universe for your roommate to somehow miraculously return early from Spring Break to let you into the room. Your phone and keys were locked in the bar that you and your friends left hours before, and you were effectively locked out until you could get in touch with the housing office in the morning. What a wonderful time to be alive. 

You debated it in your head; maybe it was the time you laughed at your roommate for falling down the stairs. Or when you refused to give your brother twenty dollars for gas money. Most prominent in your thoughts, though, was when you’d become fed up with your neighbor and hammered on his door to scream at him over the endless noise he made day-in and day-out. Maybe if you had a smidge more patience, you would be able to knock on his door and at least ask for a towel, considering he was the only other person on your floor that stayed at school for break. 

A heavy sigh departed your lips as you shifted, leaning your head back against the wall. You closed your eyes, though it did little against the fluorescents in the hallway. A headache pulsed dully at your temples, your mouth dry and your limbs starting to ache after the long walk back to campus. Sitting here, abandoned and helpless was its own unique form of torture. You knew your out. The door beside yours stood there, the thin wood taunting you in its frame. The man behind it, Jake Kiszka, was your natural enemy. The complete and utter bane of your existence. It wasn’t only that he was a pest of a neighbor– fucking and shouting and playing music at all odd hours– he was also argumentative, arrogant, and an absolute fuckboy.

Even before you’d marched to his door and practically beat a hole in it, his reputation preceded him. The amount of girls in your lectures you heard whispering about him was unbelievable. He was the campus heartbreaker. True that he was fantastically attractive, and a talented musician. But from what you heard, and experienced… he was a complete asshole. You’d had your share of questionable interactions with him, and wanted absolutely nothing at all to do with Jake Kiszka. 

The last hour sitting in the hallway gave you plenty of time to think over your situation. It was hard to believe that you weren’t getting your divine retribution. Your only escape from sitting in this misery for the next six hours was the guy you absolutely despised. As you sobered up, you understood clearly that you were being bullheaded. Bratty. Stubborn. Wouldn’t it be worse to have to grovel at Jake’s feet?

As you were weighing your options, the sound of footsteps jostled you from your thoughts. You peeled your eyes open, blinking at the brightness as they adjusted. Standing before you was exactly the person you didn’t want to see. Jake peered at you, lifting an eyebrow as he examined your disheveled frame crumpled on the floor. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding halfway concerned. 

You laughed humorlessly, running a hand over your face. You refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing in on his booted feet. You were sure you were being punished now. This was no coincidence that you were literally at his feet, having to ask for help.

“I’m locked out,” you muttered, voice bitter. “Left my fucking phone and keys at some shitty bar. What are you doing?” 

The challenge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. The corner of his mouth quirked up, a flash of amusement flickering behind his dark eyes. He took a step back, leaning against the wall across from you. His arms flexed as he crossed them over his chest, muscles stretching beneath the skin. You tore your eyes away. 

“It’s spring break,” he said, as if that explained it all.

“Hmmm,” you said, nodding. “Off fucking some sorority sister, then?”

Antagonizing him was the last thing you should be doing right now. You were actively aware of that, and didn’t care. A dark chuckle left his lips. 

“What’s it to you?”

You shrugged. “Just glad it was in someone else’s room, this time,” you conceded. “Would’ve been a good night for me to get some sleep.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. Jake maintained his cool facade, seeming unbothered by your digs. 

“Well,” he sighed, “not that it’s any of your business, but I took a day trip to see my family.”

You swallowed hard. You almost felt a little bad for assuming he was off ruining another girl’s life. You huffed, wringing your hands in your lap. His eyes bore into you, dark irises still flashing amusement as he stared at your pitiful form on the ground. He was pleased, as you knew he would be. He expected the universe to repay you this retribution, and here he was to witness it all. 

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” You broke the silence, skin crawling with discomfort.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he wondered. A rage-inducing smirk spread over his lips. You gave him a dark look.

“You really don’t know?” A frown settled on your features. It wasn’t entirely the fact that he was the campus playboy, nor that he was obnoxiously loud with his nighttime escapades, but also that he had humiliated you in front of a dozen people. It was a touchy subject, and there were very few people you brought it up with. Of course, he didn’t remember it as vividly as you did. He was popular, well-liked, and not interested in the likes of you. 

“No, Y/N, I don’t,” he said. He sounded truthful, and that made things worse.

You laughed, the hollow, bitter noise echoing through the empty hall. “You made a fucking joke out of me last year, Jake,” you said darkly. “Back at that stupid fucking frat party.”

“You do realize how many frat parties I’ve been to, right? You’re gonna have to be more specific…”

“That Lambda Omega Phi Halloween party,” you muttered, face flushing at the memory. “I don’t know why I even went in the first place. Somehow, Maddie convinced me, and look at me now…” 

He frowned, looking seriously confused. “I still don’t follow,” he said. 

You forced your gaze up to meet his eyes, shaking your head. You’d cried over the humiliation before, but now there were no more tears. Only anger. You knew he could be an asshole, but you had never expected him to do anything to you of all people. You always kept to yourself, minding your own business. 

“It was late,” you began, “pretty much everyone had gone home. There were maybe ten or fifteen of us left. Someone suggested we spin the bottle. Make it a sort of spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven situation. I was uncomfortable to begin with… Imagine how I felt when you looked at me for a second, and laughed. You said, ‘We can’t invite this one to seven minutes in heaven. Little birdie told me she’s still a virgin.’ Everyone laughed.”

“Y/N–”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse, Jake,” you said, cheeks burning. “You asked me why I hate you, that’s why. And after you said that about me, in front of all of those people, I have to come home and be your neighbor. I wish you knew how that felt.”

He stared at the ground, shaking his head. When he looked back up, the amusement in his eyes was gone. His lips were set in a flat line, expression almost remorseful.

“I was drunk, Y/N, really,” he said, his voice soft. “That was wrong of me to say. Really, I feel like a piece of shit. I only remember bits and pieces.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know… I can’t say anything to make things better. I will say that I’m sorry, and I mean that.” 

“Okay,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Talking about it made it more real in your memory. It made things come flashing back: the sound of the laughter around you, the teasing smile on Jake’s lips, your stomach dropping as you realized you were once again the butt of someone’s joke. Once you graduated high school, you thought you were completely done with bullies, but you’d learned the truth that night. You would never be able to escape being teased for your timidity. 

“Really, Y/N–” he was almost pleading, his voice much lighter and softer. Strained, as if he were in pain.

“Enough,” you said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No,” he argued, “it’s not fair. That I treated you that way. Maybe I had a reason, though…”

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowed together. What reason could he possibly have for embarrassing you like that? You’d rushed out of the party, tears pouring down your cheeks, mortified. There was no reason to justify that. 

“I hope it was a really fucking good reason, Jake,” you hissed.

He laughed sheepishly, brushing his hair back off of his face with one hand. “It wasn’t, still isn’t,” he sighed. He refused to meet your gaze, instead staring down the empty hall. “I just– I’d seen you around campus, sat a few rows behind you in Intro to Anthropology, hell, I’d heard you talking or laughing through the dorm wall, and I… I liked you, Y/N. A lot…”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, confusion jumbling your thoughts. Embarrassment bloomed further throughout your body. You practically gaped as he continued, pouring his heart out to you.

“You’re so clever, and you always shared interesting opinions and offered perspectives I hadn’t considered in class… I saw you at that party, and you looked beautiful– hell, beautiful doesn’t even describe you. You were like… some kind of art, just walking around casually. I saw other guys looking at you, noticed them getting excited… What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want any of them to have their chance with you in spin the bottle…”

“You could have just told me,” you said, breathless.

“I realize that, now,” he continued, “but I was drunk. I was jealous. So I did something stupid, and believe me when I tell you I regret it. So much.”

“Even after I tried to break your door down?” you laughed, unable to process the information he was telling you. He liked you? It was surprising enough that he didn’t hate your guts back, but to actually like you? Romantically? He was dropping bombs on you tonight.

He grinned, “Even more,” he admitted. “All those girls I brought home… None of them were anything compared to you… I’m not proud to say that I pictured you more often than not… writhing underneath me, your perfect little blushing face.” He flushed at the very thought, pressing his lips together.

Your heart threatened to burst from your ribcage, beating rapidly. No one ever spoke to you this way. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, the tops of your ears, and you tried to hide the satisfied little smile on your lips. The situation unfolding around you was surreal. None of your friends were going to believe this when you recounted it to them in the morning.

You didn’t know what to say, so your mind settled on one burning question.

“You really think I’m a virgin?”

He blinked at you, taken aback. For a few beats, the two of you were silent. Then, he finally stuttered out a reply, “W–well, maybe. I don’t know. I just said it to keep those guys away from you.”

A real laugh broke the quiet in the hall this time, and you smiled. The reality had yet to fully wash over you; Jake Kiszka liked you? Of all people. That was something… You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I guess I won’t spoil the surprise,” you said, voice teasing as you shrugged. “Too bad I’m stuck out in this hallway,” you continued, “I’m sure you really would like to get to know me…”

Your eyes flicked up to him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He rolled his eyes, scoffing as he stepped past you to unlock the door to his dorm room. 

“If you wanted to come in, all you had to do was ask,” he said, trying halfheartedly to sound annoyed at you. A satisfied chuckle left your lips, and you stepped inside at his gesture.

“Why would I do that?”

“What? Ask for what you want?”

You nodded.

He smiled innocently. “That’s what good girls do, Y/N.”

You were relieved that your back was facing him. The flustered look on your face would have thrown your game completely off had he seen it. 

“Good girls, hm?” you mused, peeling off your damp jacket and tossing it on his desk chair. He flicked on the lamp in the corner of the room, illuminating you in a faint amber glow. His eyes sparkled in the light, watching your movements. 

He said nothing, observing you. You glanced around the room, admiring the messiness of the room. There were clothes scattered around, books laid haphazardly on the floor, posters pasted crooked on the wall. Your roommate would never allow your room to look like this. Something about the clutter made it cozier; it just made sense that his room would look this way.

“So this is where you bring all those good girls, huh?” You looked at him expectantly.

He lifted a hand up, scratching at the nape of his neck. He shifted beneath your inquiring gaze, then took a step forward to drop his keys on the desk behind you. You stared up at him, though the glint of his belt buckle at eye-level was rather enticing, you wouldn’t give in so easily.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, slowly coming to lift your chin. “You look really fucking good from this angle.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips. You tilted your head to the side innocently, fluttering your lashes at him. “You think so?” One of your hands trailed up the inside of his leg, tracing over the denim of his jeans lightly. He shivered slightly beneath your touch, his gaze latched onto yours with an intensity you’d never seen from him before. 

“Mmm,” he grunted his approval, then breathed out a few more words, “but I could think of a thing or two that’d make this angle even better…”

“And what would that be?” you teased, fingers inching closer to the bulge straining against his pants. He groaned as you traced the outline with a single finger, barely ghosting over it. 

He chuckled, shaking his head at your antics. “God, you’re a fucking tease.”

“Would you rather a tease or a virgin?” you wondered aloud, still fucking with him. Your hand finally palmed his bulge completely, eliciting a lewd sound from deep within his throat. Your eyes widened, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of making him whimper and writhe at the faintest touches.

“Fuck,” he grunted as you fiddled with his belt buckle. “What kind of question is that?”

You breathed an amused breath through your nose, shrugging, “Just a question.” A devilish smile danced on your lips. You peeled down the waistband of his jeans and boxers, eyes still on his even as his cock sprang free. His breathing deepened as you wrapped a fist around the base, stroking it with a light touch.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Probably not,” you replied. “You might be able to make it up to me, though…”

Without waiting for his reply, you took the head of his cock between your lips. You let your jaw go lax, your tongue doing all of the work as you took him deeper into your mouth. His fingers pressed into the skin of your neck as he guided your chin over his cock. Jake’s mouth hung agape, eyes almost blank as he watched you suck him off.

A shaky breath stole from his mouth, “Ah, god, you’re fucking good at that…” His irises darkened considerably, going from deep amber to nearly black as lust shrouded his gaze. His lips glistened with spit, mouth open as he tried to steady his breathing. A few grunts and choked moans broke the quiet in the room, accompanied by the slick sounds of your mouth on him.

You pushed yourself further down to the base of his cock, your nose nearly brushing his pubic hair as you took him into your throat. He pulsated inside of your mouth, something like a whine tearing from his throat as you gazed up at him through wet lashes. His other hand tangled into your hair, both of them now guiding you as he gently rocked his hips into your mouth. You bobbed your head in time with his rhythm, relishing in the musical sounds of pleasure coming out of him. As the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you tightened the muscles around him. He growled, the sound sending shivers straight to your center. 

You took him deeper, your throat squeezing around the head. He sucked in a sharp breath, and you hummed around him. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, saliva dripped over your chin, but you didn’t care. The look on his face was intoxicating; his eyes clamped shut, mouth hanging open in an expression that almost made him look pained. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna–”

You pushed even further, gagging around him as your nose finally brushed his skin. He gasped, the hand in your hair tightening as he pulled you away unexpectedly. A string of saliva followed your mouth before dripping down your neck. Your chest heaved as you panted, the air cooling the mess on your chin as you stared up at him.

“Made a mess of that pretty little face,” Jake whispered, thumb dragging through the slick on your mouth before dipping in between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digit, bleary-eyed and lightheaded. His cock jumped in your hand, a sigh escaping his lips at the feeling of you slowly pumping him. 

“Mmmm,” you hummed around his finger, bobbing as if you were still sucking him off. He watched you for a moment, transfixed by the filthy sight of you below him. Mascara smeared beneath your eyes, spit glistening on your swollen lips, your cheeks flushed. 

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, “wanna see how pretty you look riding me… C’mon…”

You stood, legs shaky already. He lifted your shirt over your head without hesitation, fingers expertly unhooking the back of your bra. You shivered, exposed to the cool air and his salacious gaze. His eyes drank in your figure for a second. They dragged over your messy face, down your clavicle, and to your exposed chest. He wasted no time in leading you to his bed, your back pressing into the sheets. His lips enclosed around one nipple, fingers tweaking the other as you arched up into his touch, sighing. 

His thigh notched itself between your legs, the denim rubbing deliciously against your needy core through the thin layer of your shorts. You rocked against him, desperate for any contact. He smirked against your chest at this, breaking contact for a second. “Needy angel, aren’t we?” 

“Please–” you breathed. You bit down on your bottom lip, watching the way he sucked and nipped at the skin of your chest, leaving dark marks on the skin. The throbbing in your center was becoming unbearable, the friction from his leg not enough to satisfy the desperation spreading through your veins. You needed him, now.

“Please what, angel?” He looked up at you, deep brown eyes through a shade of lashes, and your heart fluttered. You had to close your eyes, holding back the moan that threatened to spill from you just at the sight of him. His lips were a swollen, sanguine shade of red from the friction, shining with saliva. His eyes shone dark brown, honeyed like molasses. Damp pooled between your thighs, gluing the fabric of your panties to your soaked core. 

You swallowed hard, and managed to gather your bearings. “Please, I need to feel you…”

A genuine smile found its way to his face at this, the cocky look playing in his eyes making you want him even more. If you were in your right mind, you would have scolded yourself for letting him charm you. But it was so easy to fall for Jake Kiszka, especially when he was perched between your legs, looking so eager to please.

“Okay,” he muttered. He leaned over you, lips finding yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, his breath sweet and addicting as your lips moved together. “Feel me, then, angel. Take what you need…” His breath fanned against your lips, and the two of you switched places. You took a second to peel off your shorts and panties as he quickly undressed.

He watched through hooded eyes as you straddled him. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal already, glistening tantalizingly over your skin. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as you pivoted your hips over him, slicking his cock in your juices.

“Don’t be too long,” he whispered. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine; it was as if he were watching his very life-force, the need in his eyes burned hot behind those irises. 

A deep breath fanned out of your nose as you finally sank down onto him. You threw your head back, a piercing moan came from you as he filled you to the brim. Tears pricked your eyes at the stretch. 

“Jake,” was all you could manage as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Take it, angel,” he said, voice deep and saccharine, “Go on, take what you need.”

You balanced one hand on his thigh as you began to grind against him. Your other hand gathered your hair into one hand, cooling the burning around your neck and chest. He dragged against your walls, the feeling sending sparks all through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut as your clit bumped against his pubic bone. Jolts of pleasure shot through you.

He breathed hard, one hand splayed over your thigh while the other rested behind his head. Low pants and moans spilled from his lips. That attentive gaze drank you in, every little detail carved out of soft flesh and muscle. You saw the way he admired you, and wondered how you didn’t notice it before. 

Shifting positions, you lifted yourself up to bounce on him, and he breathed a small whimper. You smiled, leaning over him as you began to lower yourself once again. You maintained a steady pace, fingers hooking through the necklace hanging around his neck to pull his lips up to yours. You panted, sharing breaths for a second before you connected your lips. Bracing yourself against his chest, you increased your pace until you were making your own head spin. He was hitting all of the right spots, stars blooming in your vision as you hastily approached orgasm. 

The muscles of his abdomen trembled beneath you, and he groaned as you pulled away from the kiss to breath. “God, fuck, Y/N.”

You smiled, chest heaving with every breath. “I’m almost there,” you whispered, using every bit of self-control not to cry out his name over and over again.

“Shit,” he hissed, as you swirled your hips at a different angle. “I am, too. Let go, for me, yeah?”

You nodded your agreement, fingers pressing into his chest as you lifted up. The room filled with breathless moans and the sound of skin slapping together. You brought your other hand down to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves as you hurdled towards your orgasm. Your mouth fell agape, pornographic noises ripping through the room around you. Your thighs shook and ached as you rode him through your release, milking every ounce of pleasure out of the man beneath you. He cried out your name in his velvety tone, his body tensing as he reached his own orgasm.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you in place, eyes locked onto yours as his release coated your insides. 

“Don’t stop,” he muttered, hips jerking into yours as you continued your pace. The muscles in your legs tightened, though the pleasure pulsing through your body shadowed the pain. 

“Jake, I can’t—” you mewled, body weakened from your orgasm.

“You can, angel, I know you can…” he whispered, leaning up to grasp your face in one hand. “Keep going…”

“It’s too much–”

“One more, Y/N. Just give me one more.” He pressed his lips against your throat, biting softly against the skin. His fingers dipped between your bodies, rubbing your clit fervently. Your entire body seized, hands holding onto him for dear life. “Come on, baby…”

You cried out his name, moisture pricking your eyes as you rocked against his hand. He was softening inside of you, your walls clenching around him as he coaxed you through your second orgasm. Burying your face into his neck, you whined at the feeling. 

“Almost there, baby, I know you can do it,” he cooed, lips ghosting over your jaw, up your hairline, onto your forehead. “Oh, you’re so good for me…”

He made a pleased noise as your release washed over you again, black spots clouding your vision. The sounds coming from you were animalistic, and unrelenting as you sobbed against him. He pressed gentle kisses against your temple and forehead, easing you through the overwhelming pleasure. Your body finally stilled, body going lax against him as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I knew you would be a good girl for me,” he said. He brushed the hair off of your face and neck, gently separating the two of you and laying you down on the bed. You sprawled over the sheets, the air cooling the mess between your legs as you lay there trying to slow your heart rate. 

“That was…”

“Mind blowing,” Jake finished for you, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling away and standing up. He pulled his jeans back on, rummaging around in the room as you laid an arm over your eyes. You let your body relax, muscles aching from the effort of riding him. 

After a second, you hissed at a cold feeling between your legs. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching as Jake wiped the mess from between your legs.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “didn’t wanna run down to the bathroom…”

“It’s okay,” you relaxed back into the bed again. It was a tad amusing that he kept a pack of wet wipes in his room, but you said nothing. You were too exhausted. 

He tossed the soiled wipe into the trash bin by the desk, then flicked the light off. He passed you a t-shirt that smelled like him, and you pulled it over your head. His bed was more comfortable than your own at this point, your mind drifting away already after only a few seconds. 

“You all right?” he asked, concern coloring his voice as he settled into bed beside you. You threw one arm over his abdomen, slipping closer to him in the darkness.

“Mhmm,” you replied.

“All right sleepyhead,” he mumbled. He pressed his lips against your temple softly. “I’ll take you to get your shit from the bar tomorrow.”

[tom-holland-stuff]

Displeasing Encounters & Passionate Debates // Chapter 3

My Masterlist

// Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 - mood-board // Chapter 3 //

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summery: After returning form district 12 Coriolanus snow has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Wealth, status, power, he's got it all. What happens when he discovers that Dr Gaul, his mentor, has taken on a new assistant.

Warning: NSFW / SMUT SMUT SMUT / Swearing / Chocking (let me know if i have forgotten anything)

A/N: Hey Hey everyone, me again. So sorry it's been a minute! here is chapter 3 and as promised things get REAL heated (be warned). im so excited for you all the read this. it originally was going to be alot longer of a chapter but i decided that is probs way to much to hit you with in one sitting, so instead i have broken it into 2 parts (the next one being chapter 4) which means it's basically ready to go. Enjoy my loves.

Word Count: 4.09K

The gala was an event Coriolanus Snow would rather have avoided. 

Unfortunately duty calls in the most unpleasant ways - or at least he thought so. His presence was deemed necessary as per request, or more so demanded, by the ever-manipulative Dr. Gaul.

Don’t be mistaken, there are most definitely aspects of these festivities that Coryo enjoys. The potential for connecting and becoming well acquainted with the elites of the capital, the music isn’t too unbearable, and the endless amount of free posca is always a plus.

Coryo stands in the corner of the lavish party surrounded by some of his peers. He is barely paying attention as Clemensia and Festus argue over some social scandal. Instead he absentmindedly sips form his bubbling drink, letting his gaze trail off.

The opulent hall is one of the few buildings in the city that survived the war. The walls show its age, the once white walls now an ivory. The ceiling, he swore was as high as his own apartment is tall, held up by marvelous pillars carved from marble, the points in which they meet the floor and roof adorned in flecks of gold. 

Coriolanous marvels at the extravagant interior of the building, trying to distract himself from the feeling of dread that sits low in his stomach. The impending knowledge that he will have to spend the night in her company overpowers anything enjoyable about this occasion. 

The thought of having to be in her irritating presence and listen to her vexatious voice, which will undoubtedly taunt and argue with him, puts an extreme damper on his mood.

Tangled in his thoughts of loathing, he shifts his focus to the entrance of the hall. A grand staircase, made from a similar stone to the pillars, cascades down leading to the middle of the floor. He watches as guests continue to slowly pour in through the doors and down the opulent stairway, spilling out into the room to join their associates and friends. 

One person in particular catches his attention as they stand at the top of the staircase - y/n.

He almost chokes on his posca.

Coriolanous can’t help but be taken aback by her appearance. He notices her radiant smile, the way her red satin dress hugs her figure in the most delicious way, bringing his attention to things he has never thought to notice before. The front of her gown droops and pools elegantly at her bust, exposing the natural curves of her body. It hugs her waist and hips snugly, to then flow from the knee down, the silky fabric spilling on the floor around her. As she makes her way down the stairs he takes note of the subtle elegance in her movements, her grace captivating and mesmerizing.

He might have thought to describe her as a vision of beauty, but he is immediately reminded why he would never actually conjure such thoughts when her gaze meets his, her once illuminating smile transforms into a hard scowl.

He whips his head back in the direction of his friends and kicks himself mentally, embarrassed that he was not only caught blatantly staring, but also that he allowed himself to think such ludicrous things about such a vile creature.

Coriolanous tries desperately to pay attention to the conversation between his friends in an attempt to distract himself. However, his efforts are in vain as he feels a presence approach him from behind, and to his immense displeasure it’s her. 

He slowly turns his head again to acknowledge her approach, mimicking the feral scowl she odderend moments before. 

His stomach flutters in what he assumes is a physical reaction to his dislike for the girl, but he can’t help but admire the way she carries herself with such determination.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself.

“Ah, If it isn’t Coriolanous snow, what a pleasure” she says in the most taunting way, each word laced with sarcasm. 

Her expression couldn’t have been any more insincere.

“Mmm, the pleasure is mine” he retorts, pulling his mouth in a tight line as he copies her tone of insincerity.

“You haven't come with any more of those hideous reptiles have you?” he teases, taking a slow sip form his glass

“I didn’t need to, there are already one too many snakes at this party” she scoffs in amusement.

Coriolnaous hardens his glare in her direction, offended by her comment. In the back of his mind he can’t help but find her jabs and retorts amusing.

Despite his inner turmoil, Coriolanus maintained his facade of disdain, refusing to let y/n see the effect she is having on him. He squares his shoulders and plastered on his most arrogant expression, determined to keep his emotions in check.

Dr. Gaul however, had other plans.

Before either of them have the opportunity to grace eachother with more vulgar statements, their mentor appears beside them, as if she materialized from thin air. 

Dr. Gaul is many things, but she is not a fool, and only a fool would be blind enough to not notice the tension brewing between her two star pupils. 

“Well… my, my, you both scrub up nice” the professor taunts. 

Y/n and Coriolanous both offer her a smile in return for the unusual flattery.

“Now, i think it the most appropriate moment for me to take the time to display my studious protojays to our guests” she continues as she grabs both of their arms, leading them towards a large group of men which Coriolanous recognises to be politicions apart of president Ravinstills party.

After spending what felt like a great deal of time mingling with numerous elites of the capital, Dr. Gaul decides it to be a perfect opportunity to intervene in the interesting relationship blossoming between her students… and have some fun while she’s at it.

“Now my most special pets…” she begins, her smile turning wicked.

Coryo internally cringes at the nickname, uncertain of where this is going.

“...I think that now would be the most splendid time for you both to do me the honor of taking the floor for a dance.”

Silence follows her request.

Corionlanous and y/n both stare at her, eyes wide, trying to process what their teacher just said.

Surely this has to be a joke - he thinks. 

He quickly looks to the dance floor filled with men and women pressed against each other, gliding in unison as the move to the music echoing from the orchestral band.

He snaps his head back to Gaul, mouth opened ready to protest the horrid idea, but before he is able Dr. Gaul motions them away with her hand giving them both a pointed stare, emphasizing the fact that her demands are non negotiable. 

“I'll be watching from here” she says tauntingly. Coryo swears he hears her chuckle slightly.

Accepting his fate begrudgingly, he turns to y/n and offers his hand. She narrows her stare at him and his hand, scrunching her face in audacity. 

She rolls her eyes and huffs in annoyance, clearly realizing she has no way out of this and places her hand in his.

Her hand is soft and supple, much smaller than his own - he blinks hard trying to rid himself of these preposterous thoughts as he leads them to the center of the floor. 

They stand between the other pairs of men and women and turn to face one another, ensuring to keep some distance between themselves. 

With one of her palms still in his, y/n reaches slowly with her opposite hand, placing it softly on his strong shoulder. 

Coriolanus doesn't miss the look of distaste that flashes across her face before she glares at him. Taking that as a sign to reluctantly place his own free hand in the small of her back. 

Her clear effort to keep distance from him makes this position feel, and no doubt look, incredibly awkward. Annoyed and not wanting people to poke fun at them Coriolans pulls her closer to him, the force and speed of the action causing y/n to gasp in shock and stumble slightly against him. She snaps her head to face him, narrowing her eyes in anger as a melody begins to play.

If looks could kill… he is sure he would be dead

Despite their initial reluctance, they find themselves swaying to the music, their bodies moving in sync as they glide across the floor in a waltz of sorts.

Coriolanous looks away from her and into the direction of his mentor, who stands in the same spot with a few other guests, she seems to be smirking in their direction.

“Your not half bad” y/n states plainly, a hint of surprise behind her words. 

The comment brings his attention back to her and his confusion prompts her to continue.

“At this, I mean… dancing,” she affirms as they continue to move around the floor.

His mouth makes an O shape, understanding what she is regarding.

“My grandmam, used to make me practice with her- ” y/n stiffles as laugh at his confession.

“-but only to prepare for events like these” he tries to save himself from further embarrassment, far too aware of how that must sound.

“You're not as hopeless as I would have thought either” he smirks as he raises their clasped hands, spinning her around.

 She performs the step with ease, positioning herself back in front of him as his hand takes its previous position on her back

“I have been made to take lessons since i was young” she states matter of factly, mildly insulted by the remark.  

His smirk deepens in response.

“I'm not sure I can take your word for it” he challenges. Determined to taument her as she does to him.

“Well keep up then” she teases, matching his expression, accepting his challenge.

As the music's tempo quickens their dancing picks up pace. They move expertly across the floor, showcasing both their abilities. They match the moves and fluidity of the other couples, whilst also trying to one up each other, as it had become somewhat of a competition to them as things usually do.

There comes a point where Coriolanus has the urge to be bold, or maybe it's a surge of confidence. 

As if it was an involuntary reaction of his body’s natural doing, he sends y/n down into a dip. 

He has no time to regret his movement as It catches them both off guard as they still in the position.

Holding her tightly with his arm placed firmly around her waist, their faces mere inches apart. 

Time seemed to slow, the blood pounding in his ears. He can only focus on the way y/n’s chest heaves heavily in surprise so close to his own.

They lock eyes, and he swears the world has stopped. 

His crystal blue orbs bore into hers, he can’t think of anything else, drowning in her dazzling gaze. 

Coriolanus was acutely aware of y/n's rapid breaths, the heat radiating from her skin, and this odd feeling simmering between them.

And again, in a reaction not of his own conscious doing, their lips draw closer in an unspoken invitation. 

Y/n’s eyes flick down to his lips and then quickly back to his eyes. Her mouth parts open ever so slightly, letting out a short staggered breath.

It makes him forget where he is, who he is, who she is.

He is rudely brought back to reality. 

Before he acts on his impulses, they hastily pull away from each other. The spell broken as they retreated from the other's embrace, both flustered and embarrassed by the close encounter.

She stares at him, chest heaving. He can’t make out what emotions are swirling beneath her hard exterior. 

He clenches his fists at his side and takes in a deep breath, angered and embarrassed by his actions.

Y/n reciprocates his stance and then quickly turns on her heel, disappearing into the crowds of people.

Coriolance doesn't wait to see where she runs, he turns around in the opposite direction, marching god knows where.

Seeking solace from the chaos of the gala, Coriolanus, feeling overwhelmed, decides to take a walk to get some air.

 He walks through the halls of the building, his dress shoes click on the sleek marble floor, echoing in the extravagant passages.

He needed to clear his head. 

“What the fuck just happend” he whispers to himself, wiping his hand over his face.

He despises y/n- No, 

Loathes her.

So what in the name of Panem has come over him. 

Racking his brain to understand why he had felt that he wanted to- No…

Needed to close the gap between them back on the dance floor.

Lost in thought, he strode through the corridors with purpose, oblivious to his surroundings. 

In his haste, he collided with someone, almost knocking them over.

Y/n - It was y/n.

“Watch where you're going” he huffs at her, brushing off his tux as if she had dirtied him with her touch.

“That's rich coming from you” she retorts 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he questions, his voice laced with disgust, desperately trying to remind himself how he feels for her.

Their initial shock now gave way to heated exchanges.

She straightens herself, crossing her arms in front of her. 

He curses himself for how his eyes steal a glance at the way her movement accentuates her chest.

“This seems to be a regular occurrence for you” she points, referring to the past two times this has happened.

She’s not wrong, but of course he would not let her know that.

“I think you mean ‘we’ as it involves the both of us” he asserts, taking a step closer to her. He towers over her, his height allowing him to claim some form of dominance.

The begin to sling vulgar words at one another, with each one it becomes more heated, getting in each other faces

“ Is your ego really that big that it blinds you?” she spits at him.

He stares down at her, letting out a large breath he didn't know he was holding.

Y/n’s scowl fiercens as she steps closer to him and continues.

 “Maybe if it wasn’t so large you would be able to see where you're going.”

Infuriated by her audacity Coriolanus snaps,

“Is there a singular bone in your pathetic body that carries any regard or decency” he demands, chest heaving in anger.

“Is there any in yours” she immediately hurls back at him.

He takes a determined step closer to her, making them as near as they were when they were dancing moments ago. Their faces so close their noses almost brush together. 

“You are absolutely insufferable” he sneers at her.

“The feelings mutual” she heaves.

He watches her lips as she speaks, the deep shade of red that adorns them catches him in a trance. He focuses on her sharp labored breaths, much similar to his own. The heat from their interaction radiates, tangling together in the very slim space between them.

Suddenly, there is a shift in their dynamic.

He barely has time to register his actions before it’s in the midst of happening.

In a moment of reckless abandon, Coriolanus closed the distance between them, capturing y/n's lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

The tension between them having reached a boiling point, fueling the fire of their mutual disdain and clearly an undeniable undercurrent of attraction, a raw desire that neither could ignore.

Again like the dip, he can’t seem to comprehend the motive behind his actions. However, he doesn't have time to or allow himself to regret it as things begin to move quickly.

Any initial hesitation melted away as the kiss deepened.

Hands roamed freely and ravishingly, grasping at fabric and flesh with desperate urgency. Hair was tugged, nails dug into skin, and breaths mingled in heated gasps as they surrendered to the intoxicating pull of lust.

The heat between them was palpable, igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

His movements rough and demanding as he captured y/n's lips in a bruising kiss that left them both gasping for air.

There was no gentleness in their embrace, only raw, primal need as their mouths clashed in a battle for dominance.

Y/n responded with equal ferocity, her nails digging into Coriolanus's back as she pushed him against a wall. 

Taken aback by her fight for control, Coryo bites down on y/n’s lip and tugs, eliciting a moan from her plump lips.

God that might have been the most heavenly sound he has ever heard.

With a growl he grabs her firmly by her waist and flips them around, pinning her beneath him.

Tongues tangling in a desperate dance of need and desire. Coriolanus's hands roamed hungrily over y/n's body. Y/n responded with equal fervor, her grip tightens on him as she pulls him closer, her body arching against his in a silent plea for more.

With a shared urgency, they pushed through a nearby door, seeking refuge in the privacy of an empty room.

Eliciting a deep growl of need, Coriolanus lifted y/n into his arms, carrying her to the nearest surface—a table that stood invitingly in the center of the room. 

Without breaking their kiss, he hoists her up, placing her where he wanted.

Coriolanus trailed rough kisses along y/n's neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he left a trail of bruises in his wake. His hands were everywhere, gripping and pulling at her with a fierce possessiveness that spoke of his overwhelming desire for her.

With a groan of frustration, Coriolanus reached for the hem of y/n’s skirt, lifting it up, eager to feel her, to taste her, to claim her as his own.

Their tumultuous history forgotten in the heat of their newfound connection.

Coriolanus could not make this happen as fast as he wished-

as he needed.

He bunches y/n’s dress up around her waist. The silky red fabric pooling at her hips and on to the table. Y/n catches on quickly, replacing his hands with her own, allowing Coryo to be free to do as he desires.

In a flurry he taps her knee, silently asking her to let him in. She obliges, allowing him to stand between them. His hands rake up her thighs, he stills when he reaches between her legs, caressing the lace fabric that graces her most intimate parts. 

With trembling hands, y/n reached for the fastenings of Coriolanus's trousers, eager to feel him, to taste him, to lose herself in the depths of passion. 

She undoes his belt and fly, and manages to pull down his pants past his knees, but he stops her before she can grasp him through his boxers. His cock straining against the fabric. He holds her wrists tightly and presses them against the table.

Coriolanus trailed kisses along y/n's neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin as he makes his way down her body, worshiping every inch of exposed skin. His hands roamed freely, teasing and tantalizing as they explored the contours of her figure.  

He rubs her through her lacy underwear, feeling how slick she is through the delicate fabric. The friction eliciting soft moans and gasps of pleasure from y/n's lips.

He moves the delicate fabric to one side allowing himself full access. He slips one digit inside of her pussy, conjuring a high pitched gasp from y/n, which only spurred him on more.

He adds another finger, and curls them upwards, beginning to bump them in and out at a devilish pace. The sensation makes y/n break from their heated kiss and throw her head back in pleasure.

Coriolanous takes the opportunity to wrap his free hand firmly around her throat, pulling her closer. Y/n gasps, or tries to, as Coriolanus tightens his grip restricting her airway, which only turns her on more. Y/n’s mouth hangs open in pure bliss as Coryo picks up the pace with his fingers.

“You like that hmmm” he hums roughly in her ear.

She nods frantically, unable to offer him a verbal response. Her eyes screw shut as she feels a knot of pleasure form in her stomach.

But Corionlas is not having it. His grip tightens around her neck forcing y/n to open her eyes and look at him.

“Answer me” he demands, letting his grip loosen ever so slightly so y/n can form a response.

“Yes”  she respond breathless 

Coriolanus movements slow and y/n whines in protest 

“Yes, who?” he teases.

“Yes Coyro” y/n whines, her big doe eyes staring into his icy blue ones. 

In that moment, there were only the two of them, and Coriolanous was ready to take this one step further.

He retracts his fingers from y/n’s aching pussy and removes his grip from her neck. The new found emptiness causes her to whine softly, the sound drowned out by Coryo attacking her with his lips once more.

Coriolanus pulls his boxes and pants the rest of the way down, freeing his length from the confining fabric. 

Before y/n has a chance to whine, comment, or do anything of the matter, he pushes himself inside of her wet throbbing cunt. Y/n moans deeply as he stretches her, he growls possessively in response to how her tight walls squeeze him.

As Coriolanus thrusts into her passionately, the force of his desire driving him deeper with each powerful movement, y/n's breath caught in her throat. The intensity of his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, igniting a primal fire that burned hotter with each relentless thrust.

Her nails dug into Coriolanus's back, leaving angry red marks in their wake as she clung to him desperately,  

Every movement sent waves of ecstasy crashing over her, eliciting delicious noises from the both of them.

Coriolanus's grip on her tightened, his fingers leaving bruises on her skin as he claimed her with a possessive fervor that left her trembling with need. His primal moans of pleasure echoed in her ears.

With each thrust, y/n's world narrowed to the exquisite sensation of Coriolanus filling her completely, his touch sending her spiraling towards the edge of oblivion as she feels that familiar knott begin to form again.

Her cries of pleasure only spurred him on further. The sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the empty room as she was consumed by the fiery inferno of their passion.

Y/n’s fingers tangle in his blonde locks and tug, causing him to break their heated kiss with a hiss. He instinctively wraps his hand around y/n’s throat once more and squeezes.

He watches her face as he continues to thrust in and out of her core, the tension in y/n's body reaching a fever pitch, her senses overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught of pleasure that coursed through her veins. 

And then, in a moment of sheer abandon, she felt it—a surge of liquid warmth that flooded from her depths, drenching Coriolanus in a torrent of her desire.

The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a release that seemed to leave her trembling with ecstasy as pleasure crashed over her in relentless waves. 

The sensation only brought him to his peak, thick ropes of white covering her thighs as he pulled out.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as they basked in the afterglow of their climaxes, their bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and desire. And as they stand there, spent and sated.

And then suddenly the reality of the situation hits.

As the shock of their passionate encounter lingered in the air, Coriolanus and y/n hastily dressed themselves, their movements stiff and awkward as they avoided each other's gaze, not uttering a word. Despite the intense connection they had shared, they couldn't bring themselves to acknowledge what had transpired between them. Croiolanus’s mind reeling with disbelief at the unexpected turn of events.

Silent and tense, they endured the remainder of the gala, stealing glances at each other from across the room.

Their stares  filled with a mix of confusion and desire. And when at last the night came to an end, they parted ways without a word, the weight of their shared secret hanging heavy between them.

A/N: What did we think yall?? shit really hit the fan (in the best way possible), or at least i think so. This was also my first time writing smut so please be kind. what are your guy's thoughts? please let me know if you have any suggestions ideas or ask me a question x you can do that here.

Also i don't give permission for my work to be posted without credit or whatever.

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