#like shit is pure gas

[gazkamurocho]

ただいま “I’m home”

[gazkerber]

ただいま "I'm home"

[boxwinebaddie]

uncle nina, were u a directioner becuz i feel like thats what inspired rm mayb

*sigh*

...no.

unfortunately, i liked 5sos.

which i think explains...

Everything. :/

[fuwaprince]

Miracles do happen and everything is going to be okay!!!! :') I am so happy!!!!!

[lord-squiggletits]

It’s always very weird to me how much hate IDW OP gets in comparison to characters that are as bad or worse. Like, if hate for IDW OP was just “he’s an asshole and does xyz things,” I would get that, but the vast majority of the hate I see for him is just calling him an asshole with no particular explanation as to why. More puzzlingly, I see “IDW OP is an asshole” coming from the mouths of people who simultaneously stan characters like Pr/owl (also a cop, committed war crimes, constantly manipulates and uses people) and Mega/tron (genocidal dictator, racist against organics, generally violent and fucked up) so like???

It doesn’t seem like the problem is that IDW OP is an asshole, it seems to me like the problem is very specifically that it’s Optimus. For some reason people are just absolutely allergic to the idea of Optimus being morally gray to match a morally gray continuity. Somehow Optimus and Optimus alone is a horrible asshole who doesn’t ever deserve to be acknowledged even though the same people have no problems liking characters from the same comics who are as bad or worse? And it’s quite disappointing because it seems like in that case, it’s less about IDW OP being an asshole and more about the fact that people haven’t actually read the story and don’t care about the context/reasoning for IDW OP’s actions.

That or they just want every Optimus to be a happy silly dad or a depressed uwu dad (but only depressed in a cute and palatable way, never depressed in a way that leads to lashing out and bad decisions and social isolation), so they hate IDW OP for not being the cardboard cutout they want him to be. Instead of just... reading the OP that’s on the page and judging him based on the standards of IDW1 and the type of story IDW1 is.

[sweetchcolate]

three words: fuck sentient broccolis

[thewuzzy]

worried that just stop oil is a psy op and think that activists could do better? congrats, you're an activist! it's time to join or start your own local climate justice group!

[sodacowboy]

okay yeah it’s offline hours

[hiraethwrote]

NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

@gdamnackerman ﾉ @sunfl0werlevi ﾉ @gojonegs ﾉ @m0nsterzl0ve

@cupidxml ﾉ @lashaemorow ﾉ @cirquedelooney ﾉ @itsinherited

@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[emchant3d]

part 2 of runaway bride stevie! modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington pt 1

Eddie Munson is not having a good day.

His phone died last night so his alarm didn’t go off, his bassist is sick so their gig tonight has to be canceled, and his last three Uber rides have stiffed him on a tip.

He accepts a request from some dude named Scott with a terrible comb-over in his profile picture and gives himself two seconds to bang his forehead into his steering wheel in frustration with a closed-mouth scream. Then he dials it back so he doesn’t seem absolutely fucking insane. He can see the suit he’s about to escort to some fucking meeting even though he’d rather be doing any-fucking-thing else, and he pastes a fake smile on to greet him. He’s gearing up to fall into the usual routine of this godforsaken job, but then it all goes a little sideways.

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and then a blur of a body is slamming into poor Scott from behind, shoulder checking him and almost sending him careening onto the sidewalk. The dude pinwheels his arms like a cartoon character, suit jacket puffing up around his shoulders awkwardly, expression so baffled it makes Eddie snort despite himself.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and he’s reaching for his seatbelt to see if the guy needs any help - he looks like he might break a hip if he hits the ground - but then a whirlwind of white fabric swoops into his backseat and a loud, desperate voice yells "DRIVE!" in his ear, and he sort of just thinks 'sure, why the fuck not,' and slams his foot on the gas.

The car fishtails a bit and the tires squeal as he swerves into traffic, horns honking after him, and he picks a direction at random, going way too fast for this area of town.

His heart is pounding in his chest, worst case scenarios running through his head. He’s going to get car jacked. He’s going to go to jail for being an unwitting getaway driver. But there isn’t any more yelling from the back seat, just heavy, panicked breathing, and he settles into traffic and slows down to a more normal speed before he cuts his eyes up to the rearview mirror.

Time stops.

It’s Stevie.

He can’t believe he didn’t recognize her the second he saw her, but in his defense, it's not like he was expecting to see his ex-girlfriend in a goddamn wedding dress running like she stole something today.

Pure panic wraps tight around his throat as he takes her in - is she hurt? In danger? Nothing good could have had her sprinting away from her own wedding, but it seems like she’s just shaken up.

His heart calms a bit once her tears dry and they get properly on the road.

And shit, it’s so unfair, because she's just as breathtaking as she was the day they split. She looks just as sad, too, which is certainly not how a woman like Stevie Harrington should look on her wedding day. But seeing her in a gown like that - Jesus Christ. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. It’s like something out of a fantasy, seeing her in the exact kind of dress she used to whisper to him about wanting, the kind of dress he’d once promised to marry her in. Of course, they fell apart before he could even get a ring on her finger, but it still sends his stomach swooping to see the future they’d spoken about come to life.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he can’t help but ask, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Yeah,” she says, voice high and a little squeaky. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just in my ex-boyfriend's car after I left my fiance at the altar, it’s all fine, it’s chill.”

“Okay,” he says haltingly, delicately, because Stevie Harrington is not the kind of person who says it’s chill, “it’s just that, you know, all of that sounds decidedly not chill.”

“This is so chill. It’s the chillest I’ve ever been, actually - hold on–” she says, and next thing he knows a swirl of silk is blocking his view and he sputters a bit as the train of her dress smacks him in the face, but she’s clambering gracelessly from the back seat and over the console to plop down on the passenger side with a loud huff and a cloud of perfume.

It’s different from what she used to wear. She used to smell spicy and warm, with notes of amber and cinnamon. He’d kiss the little spots in her wrists where she’d spritz it on, trace the veins beneath the tan skin with his nose to keep the scent of her with him.

Now she smells like vanilla and something floral, airy and light. Like he stepped into a bakery. It’s not bad, of course it’s not bad, but it’s…different. Not her.

Or not his version of her, anyway.

This is someone else’s Stevie now, and she smells like fucking cookies instead of home.

Instead of commenting on it, he just tells her to put on her seat belt, and she looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And wrinkle this dress?” she says, her nose curling a little, and God she’s such a bitch and he’s missed it so much.

“I hate to break it to you,” he tells her, “but some wrinkles are not the worst damage that thing has seen today.” There are small grey splotches on the bodice where her makeup dripped as she cried earlier, and the hemline has some muddy staining from her mad dash on the sidewalk. It’s not ruined, but it’ll have to be cleaned, and a couple of wrinkles will be the easiest thing to get out of the formerly pristine fabric.

He glances over at her in time to see her run her hands over the skirt of the dress, smoothing it out over her thighs. It shifts, the leg slit parting to show her skin, teasing at the hint of a crease where her thigh and stomach meet, and Eddie rips his gaze away to stare at the road instead.

“Probably for the best, anyway,” he says, and he feels her eyes latch onto his profile.

“And why’s that?” she asks, and he smirks.

“Well, pure white? C’mon, Stevie, we both know that’s a lie.” He flashes her a wicked grin and she makes an outraged sound, but a small smile is teasing at her mouth even as her cheeks flush.

She kicks off her heels - red bottoms, because of fucking course they are - and slouches in the seat. She pushes herself up, adjusting in the pile of silk and corsetry she’s been strapped into, and he sees the absolute mountain of a rock on her hand, and manages to bite his tongue about it being the gaudiest thing he’s ever seen.

"So who was the lucky guy?" Eddie asks before he can stop himself, and the glare Stevie gives him could cut glass. “Or lucky woman. Person? Far be it from me to deny you your bisexual rights.”

He probably sounds like a jealous asshole, but he can't help it. He's the getaway driver for his one that got away on her fucking wedding day, and he feels like he deserves to ask a few questions.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as the silence lingers, but eventually, Stevie just groans, letting her head fall back against the headrest dramatically.

"Don't laugh," she demands, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Scout's honor," he promises, and he swears a wry little grin teases at her lips.

“You were never a scout. You would have been kicked out for inciting a riot.”

“Hey, I just ensured we all earned our arson badges, okay? I did every one of those kids a favor.” Stevie scoffs, and it almost sounds fond.

Then she says, “Tommy,” and he almost swerves into oncoming traffic.

"HAGAN?" he says, louder than he means to, and her hand flies up to grab the oh-shit bar.

“Eddie, Jesus!” she says, glaring at him, and he shakes his head, focusing back on the road.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but fucking - really? “Really?” He can’t help himself. “Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes, really, Tommy Hagan,” she says hotly, like she’s defensive, like she didn’t just leave the schmuck at the fucking altar.

“Well that explains the ring, at least.” She reaches over, smacking at his arm, which, thanks to the aforementioned ring, is probably going to bruise. “Hey, ow!” He glares at her, taking a hand off the wheel to rub his bicep. “Watch it, that thing’s a weapon.”

“Then stop sassing me about it,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms and her face falls into that adorable bitchy little pout he’s always fucking loved, and he looks away again.

He can’t help but glance back over at her left hand. The ring is…certainly something. Giant, square, one big diamond surrounded by other, smaller diamonds, with even more diamonds on the band. It looks heavy and cumbersome and like she’s going to smack it into every wall and door and get it caught in her hair and seriously, he’s pretty sure he’s already got a knot forming on his arm where the thing hit him.

It looks like Tommy walked into the priciest jewelry store he could find and asked for the most expensive ring they had.

It looks like a status symbol.

It doesn’t look like her.

“Apologies, highness,” he says, shaking himself free of his thoughts. It’s not fair to hold her to those standards. He hasn’t spoken to her in years. He can’t know what kind of person she is now.

But there’s still a bone-deep knowing that overtakes him at the feeling of the woman next to him. A sense of deja vu so strong it threatens to knock him over.

A different car, a different time, a different circumstance, but the same person. The same love.

He’d picked a direction at random, but as the streets become more familiar, he realizes he’s heading towards his place. It’s as good as any, he figures, and he shifts lanes, reaching to tap on his phone and shutting down his Uber account.

“You know, I almost expected you’d still be driving that beat up old van,” Stevie says suddenly, and he crows a laugh.

“Ah, Van Halen, you served me well until you almost blew up on the highway,” he says fondly. “Lost her about a year ago. It was tragic. I held a funeral.” She laughs again, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says, turning that pretty smile his way, and his heart does a somersault.

“That was a very impressive move back there, by the way,” he tells her, “that shoulder check of that old defenseless businessman?” He whistles. “Haven’t seen anybody move that quick to steal an old man’s ride before, really, it should have been documented.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” she says, but there’s a laugh in her voice, and she brings up her hands to press to her pink cheeks. He can’t help but keep digging.

“No, seriously! And sprinting like that in heels? And in that dress? What’s that thing weigh, like twenty pounds?”

“It’s a dress, not a suit of armor,” she tells him, but her smile is growing, making her eyes crinkle.

“Just saying, it was pretty metal,” he shrugs, and she snorts.

“Well, you would know,” she says, and he ignores the way his face flushes in response. She gives a little sigh, wiping below her eye and frowning at the smear of black on her fingers.

“Here,” he says, reaching across her. His arm brushes her leg as he opens the glove box and he’s so fucking normal about it. He pulls out a few fast food napkins, holding them out to her. “No makeup wipes in here, but that’ll help with the worst of it.”

“Thanks,” she says, and she flips the visor down, tapping a napkin to her tongue to wet it before wiping at the mascara tracks running down her face. “God,” she groans, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smear, “I look like a raccoon.”

“A very cute raccoon,” he says before he can stop himself. Jesus, Munson, dial it back. “Like the raccoon that’s about to get the best trash in the bin, she doesn’t even have to ask for it.” Stop talking. “The other raccoons are just gonna give it to her, on account of how cute she is.” He’s gonna throw himself into traffic.

“Did you just call me a raccoon on my wedding day,” she asks. Fine, commit to the bit.

“You called yourself a raccoon on your wedding day. I was just agreeing with you,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

Her eyes are on him - he can feel her stare burning into the side of his face, and his cheeks are going pink and blotchy and God, he’s an idiot–

And then she laughs. Not her polite little contained laugh, either, no, this is that loud, wide mouthed laugh that she hates, that makes her shoulders shake and her head fall back. It’s squeaky and hearty and a little obnoxious and he’s always been so obsessed with getting her to let it out, and he can’t help the smug beaming little smile he gives at the sound.

“You’re such an ass,” she says through her laugh, and Eddie can’t help but laugh with her even if it’s at his own expense, because at least she doesn’t look so goddamn sad anymore.

When they finally reach his apartment complex she’s a little more subdued, but the look on her face isn’t totally heartbreaking, and he’ll take what he can get. He comes around to the passenger side to open her door for her and helps her gather the dramatic skirt of her dress to keep it off the pavement as they head towards the stairs, and he knows he looks like an insane person as he carts a bride down the hall, but he just smiles at his nosy neighbors and lets this cement his reputation as the weird as fuck off-putting metalhead he knows they all think of him as.

He feels a little self conscious as he opens the apartment door for her, sweeping an arm dramatically to allow her to enter first. For the first time since she swept into his car, he wonders if this is a good idea. But it’s too late now – Stevie’s giving him a little smile and stepping into his home, and part of him knows this was inevitable. She may not have called him, but he was always going to come if she needed him.

He follows her inside and tries to calm the pounding of his heart, watching her take in his space, struck all over again by her beauty and the impossibility of her standing here, and silently prays he isn’t going to fuck it up all over again.

this was almost even longer, but I figure 2.5k is enough for a part 2! no tag lists, sorry, but part 3 will be here at some point. thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this au these two are very near and dear to me 💕

[giuliettagaltieri]

Sad Little Thing

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Crybaby, Love Guru, and the Sleep Deprived

Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.

Word Count: 2057

3 of 4

Your eyes were bloodshot and dry by the time your engine stalls.  It makes the runabout lurch and shake before coming to a complete halt and just getting rocked by the gentle waves.  You glance down and bite your lip when you see the indicator for the gas tank. 

Great, you just successfully stranded yourself in the middle of the ocean at night.  You clench your teeth when a strong gust of wind makes goosebumps erupt from your arms.  Your mom and dad could be worried sick.  This was a bad idea. 

“No shit, Sherlock.”  You mutter to yourself.

You just had to make a mess out of everything.  First with Rafe, then running away from the party, and the cherry on top, here you are, in the middle of pitch black waters, you can’t see anything, no lights from the island, no boats.

Slumping in your seat, you check your pockets for your phone.

“Really?”  Groaning, you climb over to the built-in mattress over the stern when you realize your phone has zero service.  With your lips wobbling, you hug your knees to your chest.  Your breathing started building up as you look around the dark canvas around you.

You wanted to curse someone, anyone, but deep down you know you have only yourself to blame but you don’t want to admit that either.  Why can’t Rafe just forgive you like the way he did before?  You always mess up but he always makes you feel better too, he talks shit about anybody who wronged you, but why is he taking her side?

A bloodcurdling scream scratches at your throat as you lashed out, your delicate knuckles punching over the mattress, fat tears soaking your cheeks as the air in your lungs gets thinner and thinner.  You gnash your teeth when the mattress only dips to receive your hits.  Shallow lines appear on the leather surface as your nails accidentally scratch them.  You grip your hair, scalp burning as you pull in frustration. 

“I said I was sorry!”  You scream into the ocean.  While you blindly hit around, you miss how your clenched fist slams over the metal sticking out at the edge of the mattress.  The impact made an unmistakable sound of a crunch that had your stomach dropping to a pit. 

Gulping, you look up into the sky, hiding your hand from your line of sight as you cannot believe how you could manage to make everything worse.

A shiver rushes over your body when you feel warm liquid drip on your hand.  The pulsating pain spreading from your fist has your entire hand shaking and bile threatened to rise to your throat. 

With a gulp of air, you bring your left hand up to look at the damage. 

Your pinky was dislocated, it is bent at an odd angle, the skin between it and your ring finger was split and dark hot liquid was pouring out, you can barely see from the lack of light at the moment but you see it staining half your hand.

Rafe would have taken care of you if he was there.  You sobbed as you gently clutch your hand, bringing it to your chest. 

You have to do it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held your bent pinky and with a couple of sharp breaths, you pulled it sharply to realign your bones.

Your scream was pure agony, spit dribbling down your chin as you collapsed on the mattress.  With shaky breaths you willed yourself not to pass out as you climbed off to search the compartment for the first aid kit with the minimal help the flashlight from your phone could offer.  

It wasn’t restocked, just your luck.

Grabbing the clumps of gauze pads, you press hard on your wound, your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.  With no antiseptics, you just decided to carefully tape your pinky to your ring finger to immobilize it and try to prevent more damage.

Over your phone, you inspected your hand, the side of your palm is starting to swell and heat up.  There were no painkillers in your first aid kit.  With cold sweat dripping your forehead and soaking your back, you figured that trying to sleep to numb the pain would be the next option.

It’s alright.  Your dad will find you.  He’s probably out searching right now.  You just hope Rafe wouldn’t know.  You made yourself look pathetic in front of him, you can’t handle anything worse.

A loud call of your name was what woke you.  The sun was slowly rising, you can see it in the far distance, just barely above the horizon.  Groaning, you get up, immediately wincing when you accidentally lean on your injured hand.  It’s swollen really badly now.

“Y/N!”

You stand up on your shaky legs and see Topper waving at you.

If he’s here, Rafe could possibly be looking for you too.  You can only imagine the earful he would give you.

Smiling weakly, you wave back.

“Jesus, Y/N!  You scared us.  Disappearing like that.”  Topper tells you when he gets close enough.

“I’m sorry.”  You can’t even look him in the eyes.  “I uhm…I ran out of gas.”

Topper scratched his head.  “Yeah, I figured.”

He helps you to his boat, giving you a bottle of water while he works on the lines so he can tow your boat.  He was not happy when he saw your hand but upon seeing how broken you already look, he chose to shut up.

“How did you find me?”  You ask, your throat still sore from screaming and crying all night.

“Rafe told us where to go.”  Topper turns to you and smiles.  “He’s looking for you.  Kelce too.”  He says just to break the silence and you hum.  The sun is slowly climbing up, making the sky look like it had watercolor poured all over it.  “We started looking for you last night.  Kelce and I had to go home to rest for a while and started searching again before dawn.”

You squeeze the empty water bottle a little too tight.  “I’m really sorry for causing trouble.”

“Nah, I get it.  Kelce told us about what happened at the party.  I have known you for years now, Y/N, and frankly, I’m not that surprised you did this.”  Topper chuckles and your cheeks flush in embarrassment.  “Hey!  We’re close enough to the island.”  He fishes his phone out of his pocket.  “I should tell Rafe I found you.  He’s up all night, looking for you.”

Your eyes widen upon hearing that.  “Maybe,” you interject a little too loudly, “maybe we shouldn’t do that.”  You say, more calmly.

Topper glances at you from his shoulder.  “Okay.”  He hesitates but he slips his phone back to his pocket.  “Why?”

Smiling awkwardly, you stand next to him, wobbling a little with the speed of Topper’s boat cutting the waves.  “I don’t want him to see me right now, at this state, especially when his anger is at its peak.”

“I’d say he’s more of uhm…worried than angry.”  Topper smiles and you return it weakly.

You’re not too sure if you believe that.

“I really messed up, Topper.”  You sigh as you lean on the boat.  “I was so protective of him.  He’s probably sick from how I am all over him all the time.”

He clears his throat, not really knowing how to tread through this conversation with you.

“Maybe it’s because you’re a little too…easy?”  He winces when you whip your head to him.

“What did you say?”

Fuck, you sound pissed.

“Look, you’re giving Rafe everything he wants.  There’s no challenge, so why would he pursue you?”  He tried to explain as kindly as he can but there’s no easy way to put it.  “You need to put yourself first before him, let him see your worth instead of selling yourself to him all day everyday.”

As much as you want to kick Topper’s knees inward, he’s right.

“You think he’ll like me more if I stay away?”

He grimaces at the thought, he could potentially start another conflict.

“Don't stay away, just…prioritize yourself more?  You know, reservations.”

“Right.”  You mumble.  “You’re a great guy, Topper.  I know you’re Rafe’s friend, not mine, but I’m really glad you’re doing all of this.”

Topper flashes you a smile.  “What are you talking about?  I’m your friend too.”

“Really?”  You look at him brightly.

“Yeah!  I’m actually hurt right now.”  He jokes.  “All this time I thought we were really good friends.  Do you just see me as an acquaintance?”

“Neighbor.”  You reply cheekily, making him laugh.  “I should invite you to join girls' night.  You’d blend in really nicely, plus you give great advice.”  This immediately cuts his laughter and he clears his throat, a soft blush coating his nose, making you elbow him playfully.

Your father picks you up from the docks and rushes you to the hospital, after thanking Topper, to have your hand looked at by a doctor. 

Despite the painkillers they gave you, it was excruciating, having your finger realigned properly.  You can’t even laugh at the compliment the doctor gave you for packing quite a punch.  With a change of clothes and properly splinted hand, you sit patiently on one of the benches in the hospital. 

You’re waiting for your father to come back from paying the medical bill when rushed footsteps echo around the hospital corridor. 

A pair of shoes that you know too well, as it was you who helped him pick it out, stops in front of you.

“Y/N.”

You look to the side, not really wanting to see him at the moment.  Topper or your father must have contacted him.  It was silly of you to think you can hide, knowing how persistent he can be.

“Y/N.”  He spoke a little firmer, making you look up briefly before you look away again.

“Not now, please, Rafe.”  You sigh, too exhausted to handle his outbursts.

He sits next to you, you glance discreetly just in time to see him running a hand over his face.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You seriously think I don’t know that?”  You roll your eyes as you glare up at him.  “I of all people know that, Rafe!”

He faces you, his eyes wide in anger.  “You don’t!”  He breathes out a cold laugh as he taps his index and middle finger on your temple.  “You…You weren’t thinking and you don’t know anything! At all!”  You flinch slightly at his rising voice and he immediately backs up.  He glares at the wall, his shirt stretching as he sighs. 

You drop your eyes to his twitching hand.  You wanted to hold it but you’re scared you’ll do something he doesn’t like again.

“I was up all night, looking all over for you.”  Rafe whispered harshly between clenched teeth.  “And you just couldn’t settle with being stranded in the middle of the ocean, you had to hurt yourself too!”

“I know, I know.  I’m sorry.”  You whispered.

Rafe runs a hand over his buzzed hair, shaking his head.  “No, no, no, Y/N.  I leave you for a while and you pull these stunts.  You’re becoming a liability.”

You gasp as you look at him with scared eyes.  He couldn’t possibly mean that.

He leans close to you, until his warm breath is fanning over your face.  “I can’t trust you with yourself.”

Despite the fight you are having you couldn’t stop saying the next words that fall from your lips.  “So take care of me!”  You cry as you shut your eyes, tears rushing out uncontrollably.

Rafe licks his lips, his eyes watching you sharply.  God, you’re fucking dependent on him.  He pulls you closer and presses a kiss on your forehead but you pull away.  He presses his lips together.  You’ve never done that before, you never pull away when he initiates physical contact. 

He puts a hand over your nape and pulls you back in.  “Listen, I can’t be around all the time, okay?  Do you understand?”  You nod at him as you struggle to wipe your tears.  “I need to see that you can take care of yourself too, can you do that?”

You nod at him again but he clicks his tongue.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Rafe.”

Lovesick Little Thing

[yutaholic]

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. ���Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Drive My Car

————————————————————————-

Summary: You still haven't learned your lesson… and are back with a Joe prank! Now it's calling your poor husband to tell him about your discovery of “Christmas gas”.

Warnings: Fluff, slight illusion to smut

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

December 12th, 2023

I still don't know how Joe isn't tired of me and my tricks yet. After all of the pranks I've pulled on him I just keep finding more.

Bored in bed since Joe was gone, I found a prank I could do on him over the phone and immediately got down to business.

He was at his parent's house helping his mom build a new dresser like the amazing son he is while I stayed at home with Tyson and Miles. They weren't awake yet so I could put Joe on speaker while recording with his iPad.

After making my hair look decent I pulled Joe’s contact up and called him.

In usual amazing husband fashion, he answered in less than two rings.

“Hey Joey.” - you

“Hey, Mama. What's up? Do I need to step outside for this.” - Joe

Even though I loved Robin with my whole heart, I really didn't want her to think I was a ditz who thought diesel was “Christmas gas”.

“Uhm, yes.” - you

“Okay gimme a sec.” - Joe

A few moments later you could hear the back sliding door shut and Joe told you to keep going.

“Okay so the other day I saw this TikTok about this thing called Christmas gas and I wanted to try it. So I did. Now my car barely even got home and it was making a weird sound.” - you

“Baby… what? What the fuck is Christmas gas and where did you get it?” - Joe

“The gas station we always go to! It's just gas that's supposed to smell like pine wood for the holidays.” - you

I had to mute myself because I was dying laughing. Joe sighed and groaned out of pure annoyance before clearing his throat to speak.

“You actually put it in your car?” - Joe

“Mhm. Should I have not of?” - you

“I don't know, y/n! I've never heard of damn Santa gas or whatever the hell!” - Joe

“Christmas gas! It’s a limited edition!” - you

“Limited edition… baby why would they have limited edition gas?” - Joe

“I don't know. It was like three more dollars a gallon though and didn't even smell like pine wood.” - you

“Oh my god. y/n, was it coming from the green nozzle?” - Joe

“Yes! You have heard of it!” - you

“y/n, that's diesel babe! Did you put diesel in your car?” - Joe

“No, I put the Christmas gas in.” - you

“The green nozzle is diesel, y/n. That's why it was 3 more dollars than the regular gas, and why your car isn't working, because you put diesel in your gas car!” - Joe

“Are you sure? The gas station was decorated for Christmas and the green pump even had lights on it.” - you

“Yes, I'm sure! I'm gonna have to call the mechanic and take your car in when I get home later. Hopefully, your engine isn't ruined.” - Joe

“Is my car going to be ruined, Joey?” - you

“I don't know baby. You have to stop doing those stupid TikTok trends, y/n.” - Joe

“I’m sorry Joe. If my car’s ruined don't feel like you have to get it fixed.” - you

“That's BS. Imma get your damn car fixed. Just promise you won't do stuff like that till you run it by me because it might be a scam.” - Joe

“Okay, baby. I love you.” - you

“I love you too, just don't use your car till I get home. If you need to go somewhere before I do just take one of mine.” - Joe

“Thank you, just one more thing to tell you before you go.” - you

“Please tell me you didn't get your oil changed with reindeer piss.” - Joe

I busted out laughing and Joe giggled along with me, proud of how he was quick enough to make a funny joke.

“No! But… this was a prank.” - you

“Oh my god y/n! So your car is fine?” - Joe

“Yes. I haven't even left the house… or even the bed yet today.” - you

“Shit babe, you had me worried for a minute. Well, I'm gonna go. I love you.” - Joe

“I love you too! Kinda sad I won't get to see you play sexy mechanic though.” - you

“Pregnancy hormones?” - Joe chuckled

“They’re through the roof.” - you giggled

“I’ll help when I get home.” - Joe

I could practically hear his smirk in his lust-laced promise.

“Bye, Joey.” - you

“Bye, Mama. Don’t be buyin’ any gasoline from elves ya hear?” - Joe

“Yes, sir.” - you laughed and Joe hung up

That gorgeous man is a saint for putting up with me.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: this is my favorite thing ever?! Saw this request in my inbox and IMMEDIATELY started writing.

Request for this fic;

[tarjapearce]

Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt.5)

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x F!reader

WARNINGS: pure fluff undercut.

Summary: Miguel shows you another part of your future world together.

Inspo by @choppednerdtriumph ❤️❤️

Intro:

Minutes kept ticking, and the road just stretched more and more before you. For how long had he been driving? Maybe two hours, you weren't sure. All you cared was that you were free.

Free of the leash your parents had conditioned you, free of the deceiving and pretense games, free of your mom, free to make your own desicions. Free.

The initial smile on Miguel’s face had disappeared after an hour of driving, he took a detour to the next town. Trees and dry land were the only scenarios that you had seen so far, then another one joined.

If your town was small, this was even smaller. A few states here and there, some dinners around, a little drugstore, gas station and of course a couple of hotels and a white, one floor building; the words 'Canew Valley Courthouse' engraved in the banner. Miguel parked before it, and then rushed to open your door.

"C'mon."

He kissed it and helped you out from the car, a red Ford F-150 that needed another layer of sanding and painting. He guided you into the building, hand in hand.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" He tipped his hat at the lady as he greeted with a polite smile.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Yes. Are the magistrates still on duty?"

"Of course, you'd have to wait a couple of minutes if your intention is to be wed. They are officiating one in this moment."

"It's fine. Thank you very much, dear." You smiled and followed Miguel. You both sat outside the main office. He sighed deeply and looked at you.

"Cerecita?"

"Yes, Miguel?"

"You scared?"

"A bit, yeah." Nodding, you rested your head on his bicep. Toned but the perfect pillow for you.

"But it's fine. To feel afraid, I mean. We're eloping" a chuckled escaped your lips.

"I know you probably pictured a big wedding with a shit ton of people. You will have it. Promise, just -"

"Miguel."

You sat properly and cupped his cheek

"Darling, you don't have to worry about that. They'd probably just assist to see what they could criticize and they'd be probably people that I wouldn't even know. By this time I'm pretty sure the news are spreading through town."  Your hand entwined with his

"This is the realest thing I can have of getting married."

"It will be better, I promise"

"It's alright. As long as you don't get the cold feet?"

His head shook with a loving smile.

"Jamás." (Never)

You understood better than you actually talked spanish. If it wasn't for your mother raising you mostly in english, you would've be able to comunicate with him perfectly.

After a good half hour, the door was open and another young couple left the main office, their laughs and giggles made your stomach bubble. Golden band around each finger and a paper folder in a hand. You both were instructed to enter and give your respective ID documents and your witness.

"Witness?"

"Yeah, you need at least two of them to get married." The judge had explained to you.

"Anyone?" Miguel asked

"Sure."

You couldn't help but feel your cheeks getting warmer as he asked the front desk lady and another assistant to act like your witnesses. Then you filled in the paperwork.

Do you take this woman as your lawful wife?

"I do" His eyes gazed lovingly at you as his hand held you with utmost care.

Do you take this man as your lawful husband?

"I do" You smiled, he beamed.

Mrs. O'Hara. You were now a married woman. A legally married woman.

The judge gave you the certificate and as soon as you both left the office, he swooped you off your feet and kissed you deeply as you giggled.

"Mrs. O'Hara." He'd squeeze you after thanking the front desk lady.

"Yes, Mr. O'Hara?"

"You're mine now. Mi esposa." (My wife)

"All yours."

"Are you feeling good?"

"A bit nervous, and hungry."

"Let's get you some food."

-----

He spoiled you with a little feast at the local dinner, Good old brunch, a tall glass of orange juice and of course a bit of cherry pie. He stared as you ate with contempt. As sun was hiding behind purple and peach skies, you were back on the road again before getting you some suplies like tissues and a little travel pillow for your neck.

The destination seemed another hour to go. If it wasn't for him stopping at every 30 minute mark for you to puke on the road, you'd have surely arrived alot earlier. You were deep asleep when the car stopped.

"Cerecita" Miguel stirred you gently, you curled into his touch, "Mi amor, wake up"

"Hm?"

"We're here."

The truck lighted up to reveal a creaky and rusted yet still sturdy pair of metal doors, that opened after he honked the truck a couple of times. Pebbled road crunched underneath the truck's tires as he drove further into the property. You barely could see past the dense foliage and some construction supplies perched up in different spaces.

You removed the collar pillow with a yawn and tucked the blanket around you. Air quality was pure, a stark contrast from your old home. The air felt stuffy, heavy and sometimes even dusty. But here, in Miguel's property, it was different. Air was pure, with  distinctive tints of pinewood and fruity trees, along some earthy undertones.

Your nausea had stopped. Your eyes wandered at the place, a white two story colonial styled home. Rounded archs as collumns, of course more construction supplies laying in a corner, a hammoc in the left, only the lower floor was lit up. An elder woman, probably in her early fifties, chubby, energetic, with a sharp look, dressed in a long skirt and cotton shirt, a loose braided bun adorned her round yet gentle face came into view.

Her eyes lit up with a motherly kind of joy upon watching him approach the entrance. Her colorful poncho draped around her chest.

"Mijo!" Miguel squeezed her in a tight hug, then gave her a loving smooch on her weathered cheeks.

"¡Por Dios, por fín regresas!" (My goodness you've finally returned!)

There was a warm feeling spreading through your chest as you watched their interaction.

"I know, I know. Took longer than I should've. But...-"

"Ay si si, luego me explicas. Where is she?" (Yeah, yeah, tell me about it later)

You stepped into view and she smacked his chest.

"Ah canijo, no que no te gustaban las citadinas?" (You Imp, though you'd said you didn't like city girls.)

Miguel chuckled and helped you closer to her.

"Cerecita, mi amor, she's Victoria Huerta. My mom."

"Uy, mi amor. Hear yourself"

"Ya pues!" (Enough)

Victoria giggled and patted his shoulder, then cupped your cheeks and smiled at you as Miguel crossed his arms.

"Si es que está chulísima!" (She's so gorgeous!)

Your smile stretched nervously at her words.

"He's always had a thing for girls with Ya know" Her hands mimicking curves and you giggled. Your name rolled of your tongue

"Nice to meet you, Victoria"

"My pleasure to meet the woman that finally tamed this cabrón." She gave a gentle pull at Miguel's ears, "At your service, querida. How far are you?"

You blinked and stared at Miguel, which smile widened at the warm welcome Victoria gave you.

"U-uh, I'm seven weeks"

"Brough this man and his brother to the world. Can't believe I'm gonna bring yours now. I've got you, cariño"

"Thank you, Mrs. Huerta"

"Don't be so polite Mija, call me Vicky. Are you hungry?"

"Not really-"

"None of that. I'll get you some hot cocoa. Probably puked in the way here didn't you?"

You nodded with a bashful smile

"You need something to sit your stomach. I'll go prepare it, I'll tell the boys to help you out with the lugage."

"Thank you, Vicky"

She had left and Miguel cradled you in his arms.

"She's so loving."

"Nosy and annoying too" He chuckled fondly, "Raised me when things got difficult. I owe her so much." His hands took yours as he lead you inside.

The lower floor seemed done, new tiles that extended in colorful yet intricate patterns, unlike your once plain white titled floors. The doors shone in fresh lacquer, the livingroom had a furniture set and a large tv in the middle, at this point the construction materials seemed a staple.

You sat on the couch and Miguel followed, two young men greeted him and he gave them instructions to get your lugage to the main bedroom.

-----

Clock ticked 10 pm, and you yawned. At this time you'd be tucked in your large bed, duvet draped over your body, not worrying about a thing.

It wasn't that different from what you were experiencing, You wondered about your parents, what they'd be doing, what would they be saying. Nothing good probably. None of that mattered when you had changed into one of his shirts since you couldn't remember the suitcase you had stored your pajamas in.

He slipped into bed next to you. Hands immediately hoarding you in his arms. The cup of hot cocoa Vicky prepared you made wonders in your stomach, her stories about Miguel being a serious yet goofy kid had only helped to soothe your tense nerves.

"Hey"

You smiled and kissed him

"Hey."

"Feeling good?" He nuzzled your neck

"Better with you here."

"Still scared?"

"No. Just thinking"

"About me, I hope"

You chuckled and ran a hand through his  hair

"Always. Yeah."

"Good. That's good."

He put a hand on your lower belly and rested his head on your chest. Heart giving steady and deep beats.

"Promise It'll look better."

"Hm?"

"The place. I know it's not like what you're used to-"

"Miguel."

His hands tensed on your hip.

"Look at me, Miguel"

His eyes gazed yours, soft hands reached for his stubbly cheeks.

"It's perfect. It's yours."

"Ours" He corrected and your head gave a gentle shake.

"It's yours. You've earned it on your own. I can't just... barge in and take credit for something I haven't helped in."

"Its ours." He insisted and you squeezed him.

"Te prometo que... te haré feliz." (I promise you that I'll make you happy)

"What makes you think I'm not?"

Warm eyes stared at him, conveying something only he knew. Love and understanding.

"You're such a wonderful man, I've got you for myself entirely, None is gonna bother us for loving eachother. None will talk ill about our child."

His face frowned a little, ruining his lovesick expression.

"None will ever make you feel like you're less, cause, you're everything I could ask for."

His heart leaped and he squeezed you, earning him a squeal.

"I was supposed to say that."

He kissed your forehead and cradled you closer, relishing your heat and warmth.

"Too bad."

"Still, I wanna give you everything."

"I just want you." You mumbled sleepily.

"Wait..."

"Hm?"

His body separated from yours to search something in his drawer. You sat down on the bed with a lazy smile.

"What is it?"

"Give me your hand. Forgot something important"

Your hand stretched towards him and he placed a ring on your finger.

"Perfect fit." He smiled and your eyes went wide.

"Thought I had forgotten about it?"

"I wasn't thinking in the rings if I'm honest"

You picked the other one from his palm and slid it through his finger

"There."

His hand brought yours and nodded, looking at both rings in each finger.

"Me gusta. Me gusta cómo se ven" (I like it. I like how they look.)

"I love your hands" He cupped your face with them and you kissed his palm.

"I love you. Whole."

Your heart swelled in contempt.

"I love you too."

----

You woke up alone, with another colorful duvet ontop on you. Morning sickness seemed to take a break from tormenting you, and allowed you to rest properly for once. The cold metallic band around your finger made your lips curve. The pillow smelled like him, your hands pulled it closer to sink your face in it.

A little of fabric softener mixed with his natural musk. It was nerve soothing, lulling you back to sleep.

The door was knocked around 11, Vicky's voice called in before entering.

"Mija? You ok?"

You stirred awake in the bed and smiled at her.

"Sorry, I overslept"

"Nada de eso. You're pregnant. It's good. Seems you needed it." (None of that.)

"I wanted to make some breakfast for Miguel, but I was so tired"

"He's working on the barn."

You rolled your eyes at the piece of info.

"The day that man isn't working in the farm or stables I'll know something is wrong."

"He told me about your family"

"Ah... them. Yeah."

"Sorry to be nosy or seeming so. He just tells me everything."

"He told me about you too."

"Good things I hope"

Her lips turned into a smirk, you just followed.

"C'mon. I'll make you something to eat. Then I can show you around."

"Thank you, Vicky"

-----

The Brunch was delicious, full and of course it had stopped briefly your nauseas. With Victoria's knowledge in babies, she was feeding you things that would do little to upset your stomach.

Once you were fed and ready, Victoria took you to the barns, to see Miguel.

The property seemed to be under massive renovations, since the barn still needed the roof and the doors were missing. Miguel was installing one of the doors when you arrived.

"Morning" Your voice stopped his doings,  he embraced you with care.

"Buenos días, Cerecita. Slept well?"

Nodding you kissed him and Vicky just patted his lower back.

"I'm showing her around."

"Good."

"See you later then"

He just kissed you and went back to work. Vicky walked alongside with you. She took you to another part of the estate. Pebbles extended in every path you walked, crunching under your shoes.

"I apologize for the mess, the workforce is in vacations and will return within two weeks."

"It's fine. Really. He also apologized for it. There is no need. These places take their time."

"When he first told me that he would work for someone else, it got me concerned. He isn't one for... y'know such things. His temper is short"

"It's odd to hear that when he has been nothing but loving and sweet with me"

"That's cause he loves you and you're his wife, Mija."

You giggled.

"When he first came to my parent's estate, he was quiet, always hardworking even tamed a horse my dad was about to sacrifice."

"Agustín?"

You nodded and sighed.

"I told my dad that I would return for the horses later, but that can wait."

"Do you think it's a good idea to go back?"

"I know it's risky, but can't leave the horses in there, knowing something could happen to them."

"Sounds difficult"

"Yeah. If not? Then, I'll come up with something."

Victoria took you through the places. The barn was smaller, but it was the most complete area so far, then, she took you to a parcel, ready to be used for growing things. Victoria had explained that Miguel initially was going to use it for an extension of the stables, but quickly changed his mind when you had told him that you'd love to have your own orchard.

"So this is for you. Not ready yet, but it's yours." Vicky held you by your shoulders with a kind smile on her face.

"I could work in this in the mean time."

"He'd probably say no and want you to. rest, but its good to keep yourself active, makes the birth a bit less painful"

"Say no more then."

Vicky and you spent a good time chatting as you visited the places. To your surprise, there were a few fruit trees. Apples, oranges, mango, lemon and guava trees. A couple of bushes of wild roses here and there, and some other wild flowers. Land was fertile enough for life to be sustainable enough

Miguel owed a little cattle. A couple of cows, goats and sheep, two young horses, Lalo and Lyla. A coup of chickens and a bull named Tito who was in charge of work the land.

It was small, but it was his. And they all seemed healthy. His heart was put in it and it showed. All those six months he spent working at your parent's state had granted him enough money to start renovating his own place. A gift from his late father.

It would take time, but certainly the place had potential.

Vicky had explained that once the upper floor was done, You'd move upstairs.

You helped her with lunch. It made sense for her to be the only one helping out with the domestic things so far, but that didn't stop her for doing other things. She was a farm woman at heart as well.

"You think he learned all that with the horses by himself? No, no. Yo le enseñé. Miguel le tenía pánico a los caballos." (I taught him, he was terrified of the horses)

You laughed and plated he food.

"And look at him now, a horse whisperer"

You snorted as Miguel and the helpers rounded up.

"Food's done." You gave big portions to each, as they all sat on the same table as you were. Your mother surely would have a heart attack if you ever got to mingle with the servants. But sitting together, like a big family made you feel homey. Welcomed even.

"I'll start working on the orchard tomorrow." You announced while taking a sip of your lemonade.

"You need to rest up. Leave that to me"

"No, I wanna help."

"Cerecita..."

"You said it was our home. So, I will help too."

"Es igualita a ti de terca." (She's just as stubborn as you are.)

The workers gave respectful but silent laughs. Paco and Joseph were their names.

"Besides, Vicky said that it's good to keep oneself active during pregnancy. So, yeah. I'll fill it up with many things."

He took your hand and kissed it with a little smile.

"As you wish, mi amor."

----

The evening came and Miguel took a bath, then joined in your shared room. You were folding and organizing your working clothes in a little space left in the closet. The fancy and pompous sort of things remained in the bigger luggage bags.

"I was thinking"

"In me, I hope" He chuckled as you used his words.

"Always, yeah" He plopped on the bed and watched you.

"Maybe we can have our wedding once the estate is finished."

"Oh?" You sat on the bed and laid your head on his lap. Larger hands immediately going through your hair with soft caresses.

"I mean, we're already married."

"I know, but want it to make it right. I wanna see you in a white dress, all beautiful."

"Can I see you in a Charro outfit?" Your giggles only echoed a bit louder as he placed a hand on your tummy, rubbing in circles.

"You'll have me in a Charro outfit."

"Will have to make a custom dress though, the belly will be big enough by then. Or who knows, the baby might be born by then."

"You want a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know really. It doesn't matter. I'll love my child the same. You?"

"A girl"

"How would you name her?"

"Gabriela."

"That's a cute name, yeah. And if it's a boy?"

"Miguel Jr."

You giggled and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Joking. I don't know. Haven't thought about it if it's a boy."

"What if they're twins?"

"Double prize? I mean, that wouldn't stop me from trying in giving you a third one"

"Miguel!"

He cradled you in his arms and his his face in your neck. A place that seemed to bring him comfort. Your hands caressed his hair, soothing and gentle as you straddled him. There was no words that needed to be said at the moment, so you just sat there, basking in each other's company and loving embrace, until Vicky called you both for supper. Once, twice and the third time she knocked on your door.

"Ya sé que más embarazada no la puedes dejar, pero déjala que coma siquiera, Miguel!" (I know you can't get her any more pregnant, but at least let her eat!)

Vicky's words only made your cheeks burn and Miguel grumble.

"Ya vamos!" (Coming!)

"My god."

"Better get used to that"

He kissed your forehead and soon both joined Victoria and the helpers. Life was just starting to take shape for you, and of course, you couldn't be more grateful and happy.

[g4yforethan]

rescue

pairing: leon kennedy x gn reader

summary: leon saves reader from escaping raccoon city and falls for them

warnings: cursing, pure fluff, kissing!

a/n: been obsessed with resident evil for a while now so i just wanted to do this for my re fanss ;)) also ik the pics i chose are from re4 just go with it.

you were in your apartment folding laundry in the living room. the tv was turned on as re-runs of tv shows played in the background. all of a sudden, “BREAKING NEWS” displayed over your television screen. as you got closer to the tv, you heard screams and bangs coming from your complex. “we interrupt this broadcast as Raccoon City has fallen victim to a mysterious virus spreading throughout the city. We advise all residents to take shelter and gather resources in case of evacuation.” the broadcast lost signal and the screen was now black.

you were terrified by this news as you lived alone and had little to no knowledge about what to do in a situation like this. then, a bang on your door startled you and almost caused you to have a heart attack. “who’s there??” you shouted out the most cliche horror movie question but there was no response. you got closer to the door, tip-toeing all the way to your peephole. you looked through and saw a man standing there but he didn’t look like a man. his skin was pale as a ghost and he was missing his right arm. you gasped and ran towards your window to escape.

when you got to the front of your apartment complex , you ran left towards a gas station hoping that someone would be able to help. once you got there, it was pitch black and there didn’t seem to be anyone inside. you walked around before hearing screams coming from the backroom. gunshots go off as you run to take cover. all of a sudden, a man runs out and grabs you. "IT'S NOT SAFE HERE LET'S GO!" he screamed as he pushed outside towards his car. you went inside and finally got a good look of him. even in the situation, you noticed how attractive he was but tried not to focus too much on that. "thank you so much. i'm so confused! what is happening?!" you asked him as he drove out of the gas station and onto the road. "i could ask you the same thing! listen it's my first day on the job and this shit happens. i must have great luck i guess."he rolled his eyes and tried to find a safe place for you both.

"the news reporter said something about a virus but i always thought a virus would just mean a cold or something not FUCKING zombies!" you screamed as you still tried to grasp what was happening. the man could tell you were shaking from anxiety and pulled over. "hey hey it's okay. whatever happens i'll make sure we both get out of here safe and sound. it's my job." you smiled at him and felt your heart rate go down. "thanks for that. it was sweet. what's your name?" "Leon. Leon S. Kennedy. yours?" "y/n. you have a cute name leon." you noticed leon started to blush and put his hand on your shoulder. "if we make it out of here alive, can i take you out on a date?"

you were taken back by what he said. one because you two had just met and second you were both in the middle of a life or death situation. "umm yeah sure i would love to." you both smiled at each other as leon turned to the road and found an exit out of raccoon city. after a while, he found a motel that was vacant and the two of you went inside to rest. "how about we just stay here for the night and get some rest?" he asked you as he took off his shirt and pants and went into bed. "i mean yeah sure if that's okay." the two of you laid in bed as leon kissed your forehead and wrapped his arms around you. "i'm so glad i met you tonight. we're gonna be okay i promise. just get some rest y/n." he reassured you with another kiss on your shoulder. you turned and kissed him on the lips. "thank you leon. so after all of this is over, where are we going for our first date?"

[macbethsymphony]

CHARLOU!!!!! BB!!!! I'm so glad you're doing this! As you know it's my bday in 2 days! Can I request something small, a drabble or something with my boy? You know the one, the prettiest scientist out there, my beautiful gas giant! THE ONE AND ONLY CAESAR CLOWN!!! Pretty please~ (Again, so fucking proud bb ily)

-M✨

MILLIE!!!!! BB!!! Anything for you my love! I'm a day late but you already knew that! Happy birthday 💕 It... ahem... evolved into a full fic, cause I love you like that. I know you hate y/n so 'little one' it is for you! Barely proofread and finished it high on Nyquil, so forgive the mistakes. Hope you enjoy, you horndog!!!

Choke

Caesar Clown x Female Reader

wc: 3.4k

warnings: NSFW, 18+, MDNI, pure smut, nonexistent plot, handjob, oral, face riding, choking, p in v intercourse, size difference, not proofread, no beta, just good old scientific brilliance and bad decisions

Summary: You knew your taste in men was questionable at best, downright bad most of the time. But Caesar fucking Clown, now that was an all-time low, even for you. Still, how could you resist the pretty scientist? It was truly an impossible task.

You knew your taste in men was questionable at best, downright bad most of the time. But Caesar fucking Clown, now that was an all-time low, even for you. You were willing to acknowledge your shoddy track record, unashamed of it really, but the unequivocal stares of disapproval Nami shot your way every time your eyes traveled to the scientist most definitely stung your ego.

You flipped a page of his research, trying your best to understand the complex jargon neatly written down. It surpassed your knowledge and not only by a small margin. The man was a genius, an overdramatic morally bankrupt asshole too, yes, but a genius nonetheless.

Scientist to scientist, you had to admit you understood the reasoning behind his actions, the incessant red tape of ethics was, after all, often a deterrent to progress. But still… those test subjects… children? You’d never stoop so low.

Or so you liked to think. Maybe you were putting yourself on a moral pedestal. Who knew, you guessed. After all, it was not like your research had ever been important enough for a warlord to hover over you. Who knew to what lengths you’d go to if that’d happen? Though you still hoped you would never go so far.

Your tired stare left the complex equations for a second, looking at the man in question, sitting on the floor next to you. You leaned back in your chair, gaze studying the bored expression on his face.

Despite your better judgment, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was in the afternoon sun. The softness of his features was an interesting contrast to his usual boastful condescending smile. It was a rare moment where you could look at him in the eyes. He usually neck-breakingly towered over you. Hell, even sitting at your feet he was still considerably taller than you.

With a sigh, you went back to the incomprehensible data. You didn’t understand shit.

“Caesar.” You swallowed down your pride. “Care to explain this part to me?” You surveyed the deck, noting the incessant activity. “Perhaps away from this circus.”

You watched as he processed your words, his gaze shifting from boredom to mild interest as he considered. Then his manic laughter hit your ears softly.

“What is it?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, condescension thick in his voice. “Too complicated for you, little one?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Skipped a fucking beat.

You suddenly stood. Fucking beautiful bastard. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at the sight. The way his hair flowed and framed his face, the easy smile on his lips, the amusement in his amber eyes. You quickly hit his head with the papers in your hands in reproach, an impulsive attempt to hide the pink plastering your face.

“You know damn well you’re smarter than I, Caesar Clown,” you shouted over your shoulder as you stomped to the privacy of the aquarium. “Are you coming or not?” You held open the door impatiently.

His laughter redoubled, but nonetheless, he stood up and followed. As he passed you, bending over to pass the doorframe, the floating fabric of his coat brushed against you, sending a shiver you desperately tried to suppress right to your core.

Caesar's towering frame dominated the small room as you headed to the hidden bar at its center. The soft ambient light from the aquarium’s large windows cast a serene glow over the glasses you retrieved, filling them with amber liquid. You downed the contents, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat, washing away the chaos of your thoughts temporarily. You filled it back up before settling yourself on the banquette.

You observed the scientist as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a smug grin, thinly veiling his excitement. "So, what part of my brilliant work is baffling you?" he asked, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. It was cute, how thrilled he was to talk about his research. "This section here," you said, pointing to the page filled with complex equations and chemical notations. "Your derivations seem to assume certain constants that I don't recognize. Care to enlighten me?"

Caesar's grin widened as he sauntered next to you, peering over at the page in your hands. You could sense the heat radiating from his body, he smelled like a laboratory, almost antiseptic. You liked it, it was somehow comforting and it took all your willpower to maintain your composure.

"Ah, I see," he murmured, his voice low and close. The seriousness of his tone surprised you. You’d expected condescending laughter, not an actual answer. It made your heart beat. Fast. You could feel his breath on your skin as he explained. "These constants are unique to the gas properties I've synthesized. They're not something you'd find in standard scientific literature."

You peered up at him, your gaze bright with a million questions. "And why is that? What makes them so special?"

Caesar's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Because, little one, they are the result of my own genius. A proprietary blend of compounds that I alone have perfected."

Despite yourself, you couldn't help but be drawn in by his passion for his work. It was clear that, beneath his arrogant exterior, Caesar was deeply committed to his research. And, in a way, you admired that.

Hours had dragged on, he was still speaking, lost in complex arrays of numbers that no longer meant anything to you. You were barely listening anymore. Hell, who were you kidding, you’d lost track of his explanations ages ago. He was so pretty, the excitement in his eyes made his whole face light up.

You downed the remnants of your glass, trying to come back to reality.

“Say, Caesar, do you like women?” The words left your mouth without your mind registering. Fucking liquid courage. Your heart sank as you awaited his teasing, the unsteady rhythm loud in your ears.

He froze.

Oh.

That was a nice expression on his face. Blushing and wide-eyed. You wondered if it would be the same if you made him cum. Would he whimper and beg as your fingers tightened around his cock? Gods, now you just HAD to know.

“M-me?” He stuttered instinctively slumping to the floor, the chains at his wrists rattling as he pointed to himself.

Your mouth curved into a sly smirk. You leaned forward, then stood up. For once you towered over him. You reached out to his jawline in a fleeting touch, tracing his chin, tilting his face so he looked at you. You stepped closer, feet between his legs, eyes blown by lust as you met his gaze, impulse taking over your very being. You knew this was a shitty idea, but who cared.

“I don’t see anyone else here, Caesar,” you were close now, your breath almost mingling with each other’s. “You can stop me if you want.” Your hand danced lower, his throat bobbing against cool fingers. “I won’t mind.”

But he didn’t stop you.

You placed a chaste kiss against his cheek, then his lips, giving him all the time in the world to oppose.

“What do you say, Caesar?” You cocked your head to the side, inviting him in.

His breath hitched, then his laughter started to nervously echo off the walls, gaining confidence with each chuckle. He leaned into you, his whispery laughter touching your mouth as the glint in his gaze slowly matched your hunger.

Your lips met his once again, silencing him with a yearning you hadn't realized was simmering beneath the surface. His laughter melted into a raspy moan as he responded eagerly, moving against you in a desperate dance of desire. Your tongue dragged along him, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of his lower lip, begging for more.

Your tongues tangled. You lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the taste of him intoxicating, a heady blend of scientific brilliance and bad decisions. Everything about him was massive in comparison to you, he was filling your mouth in ways that were unknown to you. It was nearly overwhelming, and it would be were he not so hesitant.

Your fingers tangled in his hair almost roughly as you leaned into him. The chains at his wrists rattled as his hands went to your waist, gloved digits inching up your shirt. That wouldn’t do. You wanted, no, needed, to feel his skin against yours. You pulled away, lidded gaze tracking the strand of saliva that connected the both of you for a moment.

“So pretty,” you whispered, your hands leaving his hair, traveling down his chest, pushing aside fabric, his coat dropping off of his shoulders, catching at the crease of his elbows. Your hands went to his, still at your side, and brought them to your face. They were so fucking big, long fingers dwarfing your own. You placed a soft kiss to his palm before biting on the tip of his glove and tugging it off.

His gaze never strayed from yours, his pupils blowing larger with each passing moment. You tugged off the second glove and settled them back to where they’d been, flesh finally meeting flesh. It made you want to roll your eyes in satisfaction, melt into him. But gods, you needed more. So much more.

The tips of your fingers slowly teased the hem of your shirt up before discarding it in a quick motion, your bra unashamedly following suit.

You dropped to your knees. You silently cursed the sea stone shackles preventing you from stripping him fully. Your hand traveled up his thigh, fabric bunching as your nails dug in slightly. He gasped, eyes blown with lust as you roamed closer to the extremely obvious tightness in his jumpsuit. Your other hand settled on his heart for a fleeting moment, savoring the subtle beat beneath your palm. Ever so slowly your fingers wrapped against the zipper tab, dragging it down and revealing pale skin.

You looked up at him through your lashes as you traced along his v-line, relishing the shudder in his breath as you palmed his hard-on through his underwear.

“Already so hard?” You teased, inching the elastic of his boxers down, freeing his cock. The hand you had on his thigh went to his hand and guided it to your breast, urging him to pinch and squeeze. “Who knew you were so desperate, Caesar Clown?” You brushed a bead of precum over his tip before wrapping your fingers around him.

Fuck he was big. Your fingers couldn’t close around him. You brought your other hand to his cock, twisting in opposite directions as you worked him up and down tantalizingly slow.

“Fuck,” he moaned, arching his back and bucking his hips in a frantic attempt for more.

The blush on his cheeks, his parted lips, the way his body steadily unraveled beneath your touch, it all sent an intense desire between your legs. You smiled, squeezing a little harder as you traveled to his tip. A whimper escaped him and it tasted sweeter than honey to your ears. His hand dropped from your breast to your waist, then to your thigh and to your core. The tips of his fingers found your soaked underwear, pushing it to the side and meeting your slick.

You felt him trace your slit, the pad of his thumb circling your clit as he entered two fingers into you, pumping in and out slowly. For an instant your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, your breath catching in pleasure. They felt so different from yours, stretching you and reaching to places you couldn’t. Your hands stuttered in their movement.

His laughter touched your ears. “You’re quite desperate yourself, little one,” he stated between two grunts.

You smirked, your attention brought back to him. The cheeky bastard. You picked a faster pace, each stroke precise as you sought to make him eat his words.

He broke into a wanton moan, his fingers stopping inside of you at the overwhelming sensation. Your hips rolled in tandem, instinctively searching for your own release. It wasn’t enough to get you off but the way your clit grazed on his palm, smearing arousal all over his hand made your breath shudder along his.

“So good for me.” You brushed against his tip, gathering more precum still leaking from him, coating him, your palms slick as you continued with more fervor.

His hips thrust up, trying to match your pace, mewls and incomprehensible begs escaping his lips. His body convulsed as he came, thick ropes of cum spilling onto his abdomen. You didn’t stop, maintaining the strokes up and down his cock, prolonging his orgasm. One of your hands left him to rejoin his hand at your core, increasing the pressure of his palm against your clit as you rutted against him.

He was still in his high as you bent down, slowly licking the cum from his stomach, hips rolling against his hand, fucking yourself shamelessly. “You’re unusually silent, Caesar,” you said as you moved up, cleaning ever so thoroughly, cum salty on your tongue. “Who knew it was this easy to shut you up.”

It seemed to flip a switch in him as he finally came back to reality. His fingers picked up their work, his laughter strong as he rejoiced in the needy mewls escaping your lips. You didn’t mind, if it brought him the illusion of control, you’d let him indulge.

He was so big, and while you were already dripping you’d need to be wetter for this to work. You eyed the way his mouth twisted into a condescending smile, your walls twitching around his fingers at the sight. “Is that pretty mouth of yours good at something other than explaining your research?” You hinted none too subtly at what you wanted.

His laughter became manic at your suggestion. His tongue passed his lips and you mewled and bucked against him, desperately trying to chase your high. Two of your fingers joined his inside you, the stretch so divine that your other hand shot to his chest, nails digging into him looking for purchase.

“Why don’t you explain to me exactly what you want, little one.” He increased the pressure against your clit, fingers inside you working in a come-hither motion. You were so fucking close. You pushed against his chest, instructing him to lie down and he did, leaning back unto his elbow.

“I want your tongue, Caesar,” you panted, your vision feeling blown out from pleasure. “I want your face between my thighs as I ride that clever tongue of yours.”

The speed of his thumb against the bundle of nerves increased as he felt the rhythm of your hips stutter. “Is that all you want? How about you come on my fingers first, little one, then I’ll drink from that pretty cunt of yours.”

Oh gods, that sounded heavenly. You hadn’t expected such words out of him, his hesitation entirely gone. Your hand left his at your core, plastering itself on your mouth in an attempt to muffle the moans escaping you.

“Please,” you begged ever so close, hips stuttering. He laughed, the sound sending you over the edge. Your body went taut as you came, thighs closing tightly around his hand.

His fingers left your heat when it became too much. You looked at him as he picked you up by the waist, dragging you close to his face as he settled himself down on the wooden floor.

You took him on the invitation, quickly discarding your ruined panties to the side and straddling him, grip tangling in his hair as you eagerly awaited the feeling of his mouth. The metal of his cuffs was cold against your flushed skin as he wrapped his hands around your thighs, your skirt rising to your waist as he lowered you slowly to him.

His tongue circled your clit leisurely at first, the sensation slightly too sharp after your orgasm. Then his lips enveloped the bundle of nerves and he began to suck and the moan that you let out was so loud that you prayed that everyone on board was well and asleep in their bunks by now. Your hands shifted, looking for balance as your thighs trembled, fingers gripping the base of his horns.

The moan he let out at the sensation was just as loud and depraved as yours. You heard his hips buck into nothing as you started fucking his face brashly. His tongue darted in you and you felt so full. You hadn’t realized it was so long and thick. He was hitting all the right places, drinking you in desperately. His nose caught on your clit and your thighs instinctively sought to close at the overstimulation, but his hands held you steady and he redoubled his pace.

Everything seemed shaky and blurry around you, your breathing uneven and struggling between the mewls and begging flowing out of your lips.

“Caesar,” you chanted, your eyes rolling at the back of your head. Your toes curled as your high approached dangerously. “I’m going to come, please.”

And you came. Hard. He continued to lick and suck as your vision filled with white and you cried in ecstasy. As the movements of his tongue bordered into overstimulation you backed away, sitting on his heaving chest, his own pants matching yours.

Your gazes met and you smiled, satisfaction clear on your expression. “Are you going to be a good boy and let me fuck you, Caesar?” You asked, shifting down slowly. You grabbed his cock, lining yourself to him. His lips parted in a shaky exhale, thick with anticipation. “Caesar?” You demanded again when he didn’t answer.

“Gods, yes, little one,” he breathed out in a shaking voice.

You smirked, lowering yourself, the tip of his cock stretching you out. “So good,” you whimpered, your head rolling back, taking him further and further.

His hips twitched, and you pressed down on him, stopping the movement and giving him a warning look. “Be patient for me, Caesar,” you moaned as his hands found your thighs, nails digging into plush flesh in restraint.

He was so big, the stretch was almost painful but the ecstasy of having him sheathed inside you was addictive. “Fuck, Caesar,” you mewled as you rolled you hips. “I wish those shackles were off.” You found a steady rhythm, pace quickening in search of rapture. “I bet you could control so much, control the oxygen around,” you stuttered in pleasure. “Choke me just enough as you’d fuck me good, hm?”

He groaned at the idea, his moans matching yours, the heat in his gaze blazing hot at the words spilling out of your mouth. He brought his hands to your throat, answering your desperate pleas. He was speechless as he watched you fuck yourself on his cock, the sight divine as his fingers tightened perfectly around you.

You keened and mewled, lightheaded and oh so close to your release.

So good.

It was so fucking good.

“That’s right, little one,” you heard him encourage you through the curtains of pleasure dominating your mind. His hips met yours, chasing his own pleasure.

Your walls twitched around him and you sobbed out him name, tears staining your flushed cheeks as you came around him. The world was slowly disappearing, darkness on the edge of your vision as rapture took over your very being.

You distantly felt him come inside you, thick hot spurts against your womb. His thrusts became shallow and his hold on you slackened, letting you fall over his chest, damp skin meeting damp skin.

It took you a while to come back to reality, the steady rhythm of his heart almost bringing you to slumber. You slowly shifted, hot seed dripping down your thigh but his arms wrapped around you and brought you back against him.

You giggled, feeling giddy as his fingers gently traced the curve of your spine. His laughter mixed with yours and all seemed perfect in that moment.

Fuck that was good. You thanked the gods above that you had quite the voyage before you. There was no way you could ever get enough of this.

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