#one day I'll reach five foot

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

YOU'RE SO TINY

No I'm not! I'm big, mean and scary! Tough too, so you might as well start feeling intimidated right about now buddy

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird (2)

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

part 1 | original text post

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, romance & fluff, smut, size kink, sane and consensual, roleplay, rough sex, spanking, bondage & gags, tattoo kink, dom!simon, sub!reader

bunny says: love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are encouraged!

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living with an ex-convict was interesting. he still woke up at the crack of dawn, and as a result you were up too. he didn't know where anything was in your apartment, he hated that he had to wake you up but he didn't know where the spoons were.

you were happy to help him and spend some extra time together before you went to work. the more you were around him, the more you realized how big he was compared to you.

even his hands were much larger than yours. he loved to wrap you up in his arms and hold you while you were making yourself some breakfast. those strong tattooed arms around your middle as you flipped eggs.

sometimes he'd bury his face in your neck and visibly relaxed. he was still dealing with his fair share of trauma from the previous events of his life. and while it often left him stressed, he found comfort in you.

"you're my anchor, love." he said within the first week of his return to society.

you simply smiled and tried not to blush too hard as you said, "well, si. i'll happily be your anchor, as long as your mine."

"you're anchor, your rock, your foot solider, your lover." he said as he kept his gaze on you. since he had been living with you, you found his expression had softened a little. he could relax here.

"my husband." you reached out for him. he took your hand and kissed the top of it before he held it for a moment then returned it to you.

simon had a long road ahead of him, being on the inside for so long was going to cause some problems. but, he knew even if he had nothing. he had you.

it was almost five months into living together and he managed to get an interview working in small parts manufacturing. while it was tedious, they didn't need to look at his criminal record. which greatly excited him.

when he came home from the interview, he told you that it went well. that they seemed to like his dedication and were impressed when he mentioned his time in the military. he said, "got the whole 'thank you for your service'." as he held you and kissed you deeply.

it felt like your little lives were coming together. but the one thing you hated to admit to yourself. you sort of had a dark side, it wasn't anything too aggressive or 'evil'. you thought that simon was the perfect boyfriend, he'd never hurt a hair on your head.

but the idea of being with a criminal sort of had a sexy ring to it. to be with the bad boy. you almost felt embarrassed to admit it when he'd come home with flowers for you, or when he smiled at you. or when he held your hand when you went out. with you he got to be a person with love.

deep down you wanted to know the depths of your boyfriend. you wanted to know what a man like him, with his skill set, was capable of. you wanted it to burn, ache and hurt.

it took a lot of courage, you communicated with your boyfriend about a little make believe. while hesitant at first, he slowly started to warm up to the idea. you knew he was open to it when he came home from one, actually the first day at his job, with a bundle of bondage rope.

"the blue looks good on you." he remarked as he finished tying you up on the bed. he had your arms behind your back with you on your side and one leg tied to the bed post.

you looked at him, those eyes of yours were so alluring. you tried to move your leg but was stuck to the bed. he smiled down at you and tapped the ball gag in your mouth.

"but it doesn't matter what you want. right?' he asked, "i've searched a long time for you. you're not an easy woman to catch." he got between your legs, and hiked one leg over his shoulder as he started to aggressively lick your cunt. it was already dripping from the act of him tying you up.

there was no escape for you, even if you somehow got out of the bondage. he was almost twice the size of you and could do some damage if he wanted to.

you squirmed and whimpered around the ball gag as he took long, hard licks against your clit. he wanted to make sure his girl was wet enough for his large cock.

"maybe i should breed ya. bring you back to the boys all fat with my brats.' he purred, "i don't think they can throw ya in the can if you're pregnant. but who knows, you got pregnant by a thief." he continued to lick your sweet cunt. he was in heaven.

he really was so much bigger than you. he overpowered you, he could keep you down and fuck you until he had his fill, and there was nothing you could do about it. you were bound and gagged like a good girl.

he kept at it, he even teased your hole with his thick fingers until you were squirming more with your moans getting louder. he slapped your ass and gave you a stern look over your pussy. he gripped your leg over his shoulder. "shut up." he growled, "i don't need ya causin' a scene. i'd hate to go back to prison because you can't keep your trap shut up."

you hole clenched and he chuckled. he patted where he smacked and grabbed at the flesh before he went back to his feast between your legs. it didn't take long before the slick between your thighs got all over his face.

he pulled away and sat up on his knees. he stared down at you with your thigh wrapped around his waist. he was going to fuck you at a weird angle, but it was the only way he could keep his little prize tied up. he wiped is face, "you are the best thing i've caught." he said, "stolen a lotta loose change, but they're nothin' to the sweet taste of your cunt." he got his cock out his sweatpants and started to rub it against your slick pussy. he let out a harsh sigh from the sensation, "they should be keepin' ya behind the vault door." the tip slipped in for a moment and you clenched around it.

you whimpered and tried to pushed yourself down on his cock, but it was hard to do that when you were so tied up, he pushed the hair out of your eyes, your leftover wetness got on your cheek from his movements.

"but, you need to know." he said, "you're mine to do whatever to. your mommy and daddy aren't gonna save ya. you fell in love with a bad man and now you're lettin' him fuck your cunt raw. what's gonna happen at christmas when you're all swollen with my brats. riley boys are lil hell raisers." he went back to rubbing his cock up against your slit, "you'll be mine forever. my little prize. i should've taken ya a long time ago. just snatched ya up off the train. keep ya to myself." his tongue was getting loose from the buzz of pleasure in his brain.

you whimpered around the gag and almost cried out when he slipped his large cock into you easily. you felt it in your guts and his pace was much more brutal than the other times you've made love. that was the difference, you made love before. this was dirty, primal sex between a criminal and his captive.

the sounds of sex filled the air, paired with simon's heavy breathing. his heart was thumping steadily as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he loomed over you as he drilled himself into you. you were a comfortably tight fit around his cock.

you dug your nails into your palms from the immense pleasure and yelped when he slapped your ass. you whimpered when he leaned further into you to get closer into your personal space. his pace was brutal and it excited you.

"i'm a bad man." he said lowly, his voice close to your ear, "my worst crime is tainting such a precious angel." he held onto your calf as he bent your hips the closer he got. his voice was hot, "fill ya right up, make sure no other man has a chance to get ya knocked up." his tattooed hand went to your stomach which he gave a small rub, "my girl carryin' my boys."

your eyes almost rolled back from the heat in your body. you were almost drooling around the rubber gag in your mouth. it was dirty, it was filth. if anyone saw the state you were in, they would be shocked!

your head felt full of lust, you felt your lover so close to him. you knew despite the roughness and the harsh words, the entire scenario was safe. you knew you could get out of this if you needed to. but it wasn't getting to be too much, it was just enough.

the wetness between your legs and the flips in your stomach only excited you. to have such a large man be so domineering. it made you feel small in a good way. it was almost like being bound made you feel protected.

that you could lay yourself over to him and he'd cherish you. even if you were his little 'prize' for the evening. the hottest part was the pace at which his cock was battering your womb.

you whimpered against your gag and felt the heat rush through you. you held onto your palms as best as you could with your arms bound. the entire situation left you spinning, there was no wonder that orgasm crept up on you so easily.

with a loud moan around your gag, you climaxed around his cock. the tightness of your cunt mid-orgasm milked his cock till he was seeing stars. he came inside of you, his seed hit against the back of your womb.

the feeling of being able to do so left him a little slack-jawed. but he kept it together, even if his cheeks were flushed. when he finished, he slowly pulled out and started to untie you. his hands were shaky from the after effects of his orgasm.

he took the gag out of your mouth and pulled you in for a kiss when he finished untying you. he fell into bed with you and laid on top of the covers with you. he held you gently and kissed your face. he gave you gentle praise as he kept you in his arms.

when he looked at you, all was right in the world. you held onto him and pressed kisses against his face. after care consisted of tea and a small snack followed by a shower together, where he washed every part of you.

even though you were capable of doing it yourself, you still appreciated how detail orientated he was in the manner of getting you clean. little did you know that biology was working its magic and simon's seed found home in your cervix.

you better hope that the line about the riley boys being hellions was untrue or you'd have your hands full. it didn't help that when simon's hand grazed your stomach as he washed you that you blushed and tucked yourself closer to him.

mama riley did have a ring to it.

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[miguelhugger2099]

What a Man!

Summary: Times where Miguel reminded you that he's kinda the ideal man. Art by AndalusiaLu on twt :) Next>> Miguel x GN!Reader, Fluff, Drabble

You were used to dating shitty men. One way or another they'd disappoint you so you've learned to pick your poison. You'd much rather date a broke man than an abusive one, as sad as that sounds.

So, when you meet Miguel, a six foot nine, muscle built rich man, you half expected for him to fall into one--but not limited to--three categories. Gym rat, machismo, or a entitled narcissist. It wouldn't be your first and it wouldn't be your last either. But, you were pleasantly surprised when he offered to take you out to a nice restaurant as a first date.

You asked for the address of the place he named and were met with pure confusion on Miguel's end. "Why would you need the address?" He asked.

"So I can drive there?" You raised an eyebrow. Miguel's lips tugged downward.

"I was planning on picking you up," He shrugged. "But if it's a matter of safety, then let me at least pay for your ride there and home."

You were gobsmacked. No forcing you in his car? And he offered to pay for the expenses? You pushed down the slight leap in your chest and coughed. "Picking me up is fine."

Miguel had set the time to pick you up at six thirty and when he texted he was outside, you had to embarrassingly ask him for another five minutes to finish the touches on your outfit. He assured you it was fine and to take your time but you still hurried anyway, not wanting to take up too much time when he's the one driving.

You opened the door the exit and you gasped, taking a step back at seeing Miguel right in front. His back was facing you but when he heard you and the door opening, he turned around and gave you a charming smile. In his hands was a small bouquet of flowers, his suit neatly tailored and it looked snug on his toned body. His white collar was popped open just enough to see the gold chain draped on his neck.

"Forgive me. I should've asked what type of flowers you liked beforehand but I hope these roses will do." Miguel handed them to you and you had to remember to pick your jaw up off the ground. Flowers? On the first date? Flowers at all? You accepted the bouquet with a bashful smile, smelling the fresh scent of the roses with a murmur of your favorite flower.

Miguel's smile grew slightly at your pleased reaction. "I'll be sure to remember that, cariño." He held out his hand to you and you took it with him then leading you to his car.

You subconsciously reached for his car door handle but his larger hand reached for it first. Popping it open, he helped you inside the comfy leather seat of his luxurious car with a gentle squeeze of your hand and closing the door. He opened the door for you? Good lord. You fanned your face to ease the heat growing on your cheeks and dumb smile on your lips.

On the road, he engaged in small talk that consisted of asking about your day, listening to your small rants about work with him pitching in when you asked your own questions. The chemistry was there, conversation and bantering flowing seamlessly between the two of you.

Once at the restaurant, not only had he opened the door for you but also pulled out your chair! You two picked up the menu and you struggled to find the cheapest option available, not wanting to hurt his pockets. Seeing your eyebrows knit together, Miguel nudged the menu down with his finger to meet your eyes.

"Pick what you want. I'm paying anyway." He tilts his head slightly.

You chuckle nervously. "I just don't want you to spend too much. It's rude."

Miguel tuts, shaking his head. "Sweetheart, like I said, I'm the one taking you out. Everything is on me," He leans back in his chair, gazing at the steak section. "Besides, I have more than enough. A few extra dollars won't make a difference."

Jesus Christ. These prices couldn't hurt his bank account when yours is crying just looking at it? "Well, maybe this pasta here looks good?" You point to the one you've been subtly eyeing. Miguel gives a hum of approval.

"You have a good eye." He praises with a small wink and making you giggle. The waiter comes by to collect your order, Miguel adding a wine by a name you can't pronounce. He then hands both your menus to the waiter and faces you again.

"Now, what was that about your boss giving you shit at work?" He smirks, remembering and even wanting to hear the rest of your story from the car. You laugh and lean your elbows on the table, starting from the top while Miguel listens with open ears.

After being in an established relationship, you learned Miguel was private about your relationship but not secretive about it. He often invited you as his plus one to his works banquets at Alchemax, his arm around you at all times whether on your shoulder or around your waist.

Miguel would show you off with pride. "And who's this lovely one next to you?" Someone would ask mid-conversation. He'd perk up, standing a bit taller and moving his hand to the middle of your back.

"This is my wonderful partner." He smiled, announcing your name to them and kissing your temple. You felt shy even with the small public display of affection. Too much made you feel icky and too little made you feel sad---Miguel knew just the right amount to get your heart fluttering.

While Miguel had been talking to another group of men, you tugged on his suit to grab his attention. He immediately put the conversation on hold and looked down on you with a hint of of concern. "What's wrong?"

You smiled reassuringly. "Nothing. I'm just gonna grab a drink--kinda thirsty. Want one?" You asked. Miguel relaxed after knowing you were okay and he nodded.

"That'd be great. Gracias, cariño." He lifted your chin to give you a quick peck that you reciprocated and slipped you his card before letting you be to find the bar.

You squeezed through the crowd of rich and smart people alike, making your way to the familiar counter filled with various types of alcohol. You leaned over to catch the bartenders attention and order two drinks, passing Miguel's card to him and sat on the stool while you waited.

You glanced around the banquet, mindlessly taking everything in to the chandeliers and the different types of people you'd never thought you'd be in the same room if it weren't for Miguel. Speaking of which, your eyes landed on him, smiling to yourself as he chatted along with his colleagues. You admired the way he was confident but not egotistical, kind but not a push-over, humble but knows his worth. You really lucked out with this one.

The clinking of two glass cups snapped you out of your lovesick gaze and you smiled at the bartender, giving your thanks. You hopped off the stool and picked them up carefully before looking up and stopping in your tracks. Where you meant to walk towards Miguel, there was an older man introducing what you guessed was his daughter to Miguel. In the pit of your stomach, you pushed down the feeling of jealousy, instead focusing your emotion on how Miguel would react.

You've spent too much time entertaining men and their games, whether it was to purposefully piss you off or discard you for an ounce of someone else's attention. So you watched how Miguel would handle it and you hoped he wouldn't disappoint you.

The woman smiled a little too big for your liking, obviously making herself seem more attractive in his eyes. Which would've been fine--if it wasn't to your man. Your eyes narrowed when she reached for his bicep but then Miguel stopped her. You blinked as you saw him try to shove her off as professionally as possible but you saw him clench his jaw to hide his disgust. He faced the older man without sparing another glance at the appalled woman, gesturing to himself and shaking his head. You assumed he was explaining he was taken and was proven right when he turned in your direction and his eyes met yours. His face morphed into something softer when he looked at you, a smile on his face when he turned back to the man-- "happily in a relationship" his lips said.

The weight in your chest lifted instantly. Miguel wasn't playing a childish game to make you jealous and he was committed to you. To you, he had gotten so much more attractive in your eyes.

You felt a small poke to your shoulder and you turned around, seeing a man with slicked back blonde, almost white, hair. He sized you up and down which made an uncomfortable shiver run down your spine. You took a step back and smiled politely. "Can I help you?"

The man chuckles. "Just wondering what a pretty thing like you is doing all by yourself. Especially with two drinks. Someone ditch you? That's a shame." He sauntered over closer to you but you took another step back up until you hit a wall. Or what you thought was a wall. You smelled the familiar scent of Miguel's signature cologne and looked up.

Miguel was right behind you, his eyes void of the softness just moments ago and narrowed at the man in front of you. His arm had wrapped around your middle and pulled you closer to him possessively, his other hand taking one drink from your hand. "Thank you for getting us a drink, mi vida," He kissed your temple then down to your cheek. "Kron, seems you've just met my partner." His smile was strained as he hissed out 'partner'.

Kron, as you now know, had stopped smiling instantly. He tried hiding the obvious hatred for Miguel but it still seeped out. "Miguel," He greeted. "Seems I have. Didn't mean to intrude. Have a nice night." He excused himself and grumbled while walking away. Miguel watched as he did so, taking a sip of the drink you had gotten him, the cubes tinkling against the glass. He bent down to your ear after swallowing the bitter taste, his breath warm and tickling you with how close he got.

"From now on, you don't leave my side. I can't bear people thinking you're not mine." His deep voice rumbled and his grip never left your waist the whole night. Wherever you went, he went along and wherever he went, his hand was always somewhere on your body. You head spun the rest of the night, flushed next to him while he managed to slip in that you were his in every conversation and even stealing a few kisses here and there. To have a man this proud of you, it made your heart flutter like no other. Private but not secretive.

A/N: something short and sweet in the middle of writer's block :')

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (XIV)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 5.8k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous - Next

"Darling."

You glance up at Namjoon, abandoning the half-finished scarf you've been slowly unraveling for the last hour. He stands at the foot of the couch, glasses slipping down his nose as he struggles to hold on to all of the books piled up in his arms.

You jump out of your seat to help him, grabbing half of the stack to place it on the table next to you with a small huff.

The books are thick and heavy, and you doubt that any of the volumes are under five hundred pages. Most of the spines in Namjoon's arms look old and weathered, like their proper place should be under a glass case in a museum instead of a library.

Namjoon breathes out a sigh of relief as he carefully deposits the rest of the books next to the others. He nudges his glasses back in place with a small chuckle as he says, "I must be getting out of shape, I don't remember them being this heavy."

"I doubt it," You mutter, sneaking a quick look at how visible Namjoon's muscles are even under his thick sweater. 

"What did you say, darling? I didn't catch it," Namjoon gives you a curious look. 

"Ah, it's nothing!" You flash him a quick smile, swiftly shifting your focus back to the table. 

Namjoon furrows his brows at the way you suddenly avert your eyes, the tops of your cheeks growing warm. He glances down at his sweater, worried that he might have missed a stain. There's nothing that looks out of the ordinary, but Namjoon still dusts off the bright red wool for good measure, a little perplexed by the strange look you were giving him. 

"I brought the books you asked for, this is everything we had on soulmates and soulbonds," Namjoon clears his throat. He steps closer to the table, picking up a few of the books before he starts sorting them into smaller piles, "These are the most recent publications and the ones furthest to the right are the oldest ones. I found a couple down in the archives too. They're not supposed to leave the library since they're so old but, well, I'm sure no one would mind a little exception. I know you'll take good care of them." 

"I'll be careful," You nod, brushing a finger over the spine of what looks to be the oldest book. 

"Good," Namjoon flashes you a warm grin, his dimples on show. He reaches out to stroke your hair, tucking a lock behind your ears as he gently says, "I hope they can be a nice distraction for you. I know you've been feeling down since you talked to Heejun."

"Thank you," You give him a tight smile, refusing to comment on it. You know it annoys them that you're not willing to open up more, that you don't want to talk about your emotions, but what's the use in bringing up something they won't understand? They are the ones making you sad, not Heejun. 

It's been a week since you last spoke to him, and your heart still aches from it. Hearing his voice felt like splitting open a barely closed wound. You can't shake off how mournful he sounded when he said his goodbyes, like he knew you wouldn't be able to contact him again for quite some time. It has left you feeling unsettled. And, since your days are filled with nothing; you have more than enough time to think, think, and think some more. You sometimes wonder if cabin fever will take you out before the soulbond does. 

It feels like time barely passes here and yet you know that the sun rises and sets, that the minutes are steadily ticking away even if you feel frozen. Using your phone finally gave you an opportunity to pinpoint the date. The day you talked to Heejun was December 11th and now that one week has already passed, there are only seven days left until Christmas. It's odd to think back to how you celebrated the holidays last year, and how different your life was then. You knew of your soulmates but you didn't know them. You were scared but you were free. 

You shake yourself loose from your thoughts as Namjoon presses a soft kiss to your cheek, catching the tail end of his sentence as he says, "– for you, just call for me if you need any help, darling." 

"Great, I'll do that," You say. Namjoon doesn't seem to have noticed your wavering attention. 

You can only assume he mentioned he would leave you to read in peace, as he gives you another warm smile before he straightens up and exits the room. You hear him greet Hoseok in the kitchen, their voices just distant enough that you can't pick up on what they're talking about. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to empty your mind to focus on the task at hand. You did ask Namjoon for these books for a reason, so you must utilize the time you have. Namjoon seems to have borrowed the entire section the library has on soulmate-related books, so it's only a matter of time before someone comes asking for them.

You decide you might as well begin with the newer books first, they should hopefully contain all the information and studies that have been done on the bond over the last three hundred years or so. You grab one that looks somewhat familiar to you, a newer edition of a volume you're sure you did a paper on back in middle school. Skimming through it, you quickly skip to the section that talks more in-depth about bonds. You already know all of the basics, the history, the tale of the first two soulmates – it's practically ingrained into you from birth. What you need is something different, something uncommon in the sea of familiar facts. 

You're disappointed when you realize that the book barely touches upon soulbonds with more than two people. Having two or more soulmates isn't that uncommon but it's also not the norm. The most you've ever heard of was a group of five soulmates and they were treated as a media spectacle from the moment they announced it. You remember the headlines reading along the lines of rare, strange and unprecedented – so you can only imagine that if there are more groups like them out there, they're keeping quiet about it. The soulmates that did choose to step forward about their bond were insistent that it was the same as a bond between two people; they all loved each other and their connection was equally as strong for every soulmate. Their situation was clearly very different from yours. 

You close the book with a huff, moving on to the next one. There's a brief mention that soulbonds with more than two soulmates require a bit more work, but that's all. It's barely enough to fill a sentence. Your frustration only grows with every book you look through, it's just the same information regurgitated over and over. You know there's something out there though, the story Namjoon told you shortly after you had woken up at the cabin must come from somewhere. Namjoon might have found the excerpt online but you do recall that it was supposedly from an old and rather obscure book.

Your gaze drifts over to the book that looks like it's falling apart at the seams, the etching on the cover so old that the letters have been lost to time. You find yourself holding your breath as you gingerly pick it out of the pile, wincing as you feel the pages shift within the book. There's a small note attached to the front of it, one that reads: NO PUBLIC ACCESS. For a split second it makes you pause, thoughts that it might actually be a valuable book crossing your mind, but you quickly disregard them. If this book was important, it would've never been left to rot in the library archive. 

Carefully placing it in front of you, you open the front of the book slowly, mindful to prop it up with your hand so that you're not causing too much tension to the spine. The insides look as tattered as the front, the title page barely legible. The font is cursive and swooping, the letters blending together so well it's hard to make out much of it. In the end, all you can decipher is that it says soulmates and that it was written in the year 1783.

You turn the page, squinting at the faded words. The layout of it reminds you more of a diary than a book, with random dates placed before every entry. They explain how the author decided to travel around to gather stories about soulmates, soulbonds and the people they met along the way. After some twenty-odd pages, you finally come across what looks to be a table of contents. Tracing your finger down the side, you halt as you make out the words nucleus bonds.

Bingo.

You feel your pulse kick up a beat as you flip to the correct page. The title reads 'Highly unusual cases of soulbonds and soulmates' and you can tell from the first sentence that this must be the excerpt Namjoon had found online. 

It describes just what Namjoon talked about; that while there's always a risk of one soulmate feeling the bond more intensely than the other, the probability of it happening is heightened the bigger the bond is. Skewed bonds are typically seen in groups of four or more soulmates, as it is likely that one soulmate in particular becomes the nucleus of the bond – the center that holds it all together. The book goes on to mention examples, old cases of nucleus bonds you've never heard of. They seem more like fables than true stories, all of them more fantastical than the last, but it does seem that Namjoon was right. In the olden days, nucleus bonds were viewed as a gift bestowed upon them from the heavens. That the ones that found themselves experiencing it were special – powerful. 

"What a fucking joke," You sigh.

The only thing this bond has made you feel is helpless. 

There's a small paragraph at the end of the page, one you suspect wasn't included on the digital scan Namjoon found.

While powerful, nucleus bonds can quickly go awry if the proper precautions are not taken to ensure the bond's well-being. For ill effects of the bond, please see the entry on Lovesickness.

You feel your mouth go dry, a heavy pit settling in your stomach. This must be it. You can't help the slight tremble to your fingers as you flip to the correct page, unease and excitement blending into a confusing feeling. You desperately want to know what's going on, if there's something that's causing the boys to act the way that they are, but the title worries you. Not all illnesses can be cured. You've survived on the small hope that you might be able to help them but if that gets taken away, what will you have left?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, nervous, as you land on the right entry. 

// Lovesickness Lovesickness, or soul sickness, occurs when the bond between two or more soulmates is neglected. This illness has only been recorded in bonds with a nucleus soulmate and is thus regarded as a prominent ill effect. While skewed bonds may occur in any soulbond, it is even more likely to do so in instances where one soulmate is viewed as the nucleus. It is a dangerous soulbond, as it makes the other soulmates unstable and there is an especially high risk that they will crave closeness with the nucleus to make up for the weakened connection to the rest of their soul-group. The other soulmates or "the outsiders", are known to grow irrational, obsessive, angry, highly emotional, and in some extreme cases, they can even be influenced by other outsiders' emotions despite their weakened bond. After first contact is made, it is imperative that the affected soulmates spend time together to minimize the risk of soul sickness. Failing to do so will have grave consequences. //

"Oh gods," You whisper, staring at the book in mild horror. 

If what the book is saying is correct, then that means that everything that has happened over the last year isn't completely their fault. 

The soulbond must have started slowly poisoning their minds ever since they met years ago. They didn't even know they were soulmates back then, not until that night in Hoseok's shop, so you can't imagine they have been able to nurture the bond properly. Their connection was so weak they probably mistook it as simply wanting to become friends and even though you know they're all close, you also know that their schedules are so conflicting that it's impossible for all of them to hang out as much as they should have. The bond was practically doomed even before they met you. 

It makes sense that they all came together before you did, that perhaps there was a part of them that couldn't seek the nucleus out before they had collected the rest of the group. The sickness must've become even worse once they did find you – festering and growing stronger the longer they tried to stay away. You wonder if it was the bond that made them keep their distance back then. If their souls recognized that your connection to them was weaker than it was supposed to be, maybe that's part of what made them so scared to approach you. Regardless, it had likely reached a critical point when they decided to kidnap you, their souls so affected, so warped, by the illness that they had no other choice. 

All of this – everything that has happened – has been out of their control. How were they supposed to fight an illness they didn't know they had? 

You cover your face with both hands, muffling your choked breaths. You feel lost in a way you haven't before. Their actions are still not excused, you can't find it in yourself to forgive them for all the hurt and trauma they've caused you. But you can understand why they ended up going down the path they did now, because, well, it turns out they didn't have much of a choice at all.

There's no right answer here and you're finding yourself at a loss of what to do. You doubt that telling them about it will change anything, not when they're this far gone already. They'll probably just look at it as you trying to distance yourself from them again. 

You drag your fingers down your face with a low groan, glancing down at the book. The entry on lovesickness doesn't go past the page and you can't find any additional information that describes what you should do if something like this has already occurred; just that it's important to make sure that the bond doesn't get messed up in the first place. With the book being so old, well over two hundred years, it's not like you can reach out to the author for help either. But there must be something you can do.  

Thrumming your fingers against the table, you shift your focus towards the kitchen, to the soft sound of Hoseok's laughter. Now that you think about it, the boys have become more trusting, more mellow, over the past months. They have started leaving you alone for longer periods of time and they have calmed down significantly compared to when they first brought you here. Perhaps.. If your distance is what worsened their illness, maybe this – being close – is what is going to cure them? You doubt it can ever bring them back to normal, whatever that may be, but it could help stabilize them. 

If you try, really try, to accept them for what they are now and return their affection, it might help the bond settle faster. 

You give yourself a weak nod, closing the book as you push yourself up on your feet. You don't like thinking about affection, love, as just a means to an end, but it's not like the situation you're in is normal. You're willing to do anything if it'll get you out of here, and in the end, you're doing this to help both yourself and them. You might have tried to deny it this whole time but it doesn't change the fact that they're still your soulmates. As awful as it is, you have some responsibility over them too. 

You ignore the queasy feeling lingering in your stomach, shaking out your limbs before you muster up the most genuine smile you can. You just have to try. 

"Hey guys," You call out, crossing the common room to go join Hoseok and Namjoon in the kitchen, "What are you up to?"

Soft sunlight streams in through the windows, warming your feet just so as you stand in one of the illuminated patches on the floor. There's activity from every corner of the cabin, Sundays being the only day all of them are able to gather at the same time. It's been four days since you realized just how messed up your bond is and you've been trying your best to stop pushing the boys away since then.

You look wistfully out of the window, the white snow sparkling under the sun. You haven't really been much outside since you tried to escape, their trust in you is too broken to allow you to. The most you've done is stand on top of the stairs with the door open; Namjoon waiting a few steps down in case you should be stupid enough to try to run, and Seokjin behind you, holding on to one of your hands.

You miss being able to walk around and move your body more, and you truly are beginning to go a little stir-crazy. 

"Hi baby," Jimin croons as he wraps his arms around your waist, gluing himself against your back, "What are you thinking about?" 

You lean into Jimin's hold, your heart quickening at the kiss he plants at the back of your neck. You let out a small sigh as you confess, "I'm bored." 

"Bored, hm? Anything in particular you'd like to do? I can think of a few ways to waste time." 

You can hear the smirk in Jimin's voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you remember the night you spent together.

"Actually–" You pause, bracing yourself for a negative reaction before you say, "I'd like to do something outside today. The weather is so nice." 

Jimin's arms tighten around you like a snake, so tense you worry they might pop right off his body. "Outside?" He echoes. 

"What's outside?" Hoseok seems to have abandoned whatever he was doing earlier in his room, his sudden appearance startling you slightly. 

"Y/n was just telling me that she's bored and that she wants to do something. Outside," Jimin fills him in, voice void of any emotion. 

Hoseok is silent as he walks across the room, meeting your gaze with raised eyebrows as you turn to look at him. He doesn't look away until he's standing next to you and Jimin, his eyes briefly flickering down to the death grip the younger has on you before they fly back to your face. "Why would you want that, sunshine?" 

It's not an immediate no – so you jump on the chance to play it up a little and use it to your advantage. 

"I just want to hang out with you guys outside, maybe do something fun. I just thought it would be nice to do something, you know, together," You pout. The sparkling snow in your peripheral gives you an idea. "Maybe a snowball fight?" 

Hoseok shares a look with Jimin over your shoulder, one that's long enough to almost make you nervous. Jimin eventually relaxes when Hoseok gives him a nod. It's hard to tell what's going through his head but surprisingly, Hoseok doesn't seem too put off by the idea. Maybe they really have begun to trust you again, or maybe this is just another test. Either way, it's something you can make use of. 

Hoseok reaches out to touch your cheek, his lips curving into a heart-shaped smile as he says, "That sounds like a good idea, sunshine. I'll go ask the others if they want to join."

"I call dibs on being on Y/n's team," Jimin says, smug. 

Hoseok's smile grows a little more dangerous as he moves his attention back to Jimin, "We'll see about that, Jiminie." 

You grunt as Seokjin tugs firmly on your jacket, sending you a step forward.

You're wearing so many layers you can barely move, all of them too big. The boys took great joy in dressing you up in their winter clothes, as nothing you have at the cabin is fit for withstanding the cold. You're glad you don't have to freeze, but the fact that everything you're wearing is too big doesn't evade you. They must still be worried about you trying to run away if they're trying to impede your ability to move.

You know not to make a fuss about it though, it's better to just go along with their whims when it's something so harmless. 

"Watch your chin," Seokjin warns before he drags the zipper up, sealing you in. 

"Thanks," You say, nodding for good measure. Your voice is so muffled behind Jungkook's thick scarf that you can barely hear your own voice. 

Seokjin flashes you a grin, gesturing to the door. "Go on then, sweetheart. You're going to overheat if you stay inside here for too long." 

You waddle over to the door, practically dragging your feet with how heavy the boots you borrowed from Namjoon are. You can hear the others talking outside, only Seokjin left behind as he volunteered to help you get everything on. You're admittedly glad you didn't just brush him off because there's no way you would be able to bend down with how thick your jacket and snow pants are. 

A burst of biting cold air hits you as you open the door. It takes you a moment to get used to the temperature difference but once you do, you shuffle down the stairs as quickly as you can manage. Hearing the snow crunch under your boots and feeling the sun warm the little skin you have exposed makes your heart swell. You finally feel alive again. 

"Y/n, there you are!" Taehyung throws the half-formed snowball in his hands to the ground, waving you over to where the rest of them are busy shoveling snow. The boys have already managed to clear a decent-sized patch, patting the shoveled snow into two barriers on the opposite sides of the cleared ground. Jungkook and Yoongi have even had time to start making two piles of snowballs, stacking up a good amount of them. 

Taehyung is sporting a wide smile by the time you make it over, his eyes twinkling as he opens his mouth.

"Don't say anything," You cut him off, huffing from the restrictive layers. Taehyung holds up his hands in surrender, chuckling as you try (and fail) to cross your arms. 

"I wasn't going to," He looks you up and down once, biting down on his lip to stifle his laughter. "But if I was, I'd say you look like a cute marshmallow." 

You groan. "This is way too much! I can barely move." 

"It's just to keep you warm, babe. We don't want you getting sick," Taehyung bops your nose with his glove. "Your team will cover you during the fight anyway, you won't have to move around too much." 

"Fine, if you say so," You murmur, not entirely convinced. You know all of the boys, especially Jungkook, have a competitive streak, so you doubt it's going to be as easy as Taehyung makes it seem.

"Seokjin hyung!" Taehyung calls out as he looks over your shoulder, "Hurry up! We need to divide the teams!"

It's quickly decided that the best way to do so is by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors. It takes a few rounds to get it right but in the end, you're teamed up with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon, while the other four make up the opposing team. 

"My poor angel, I can't believe she's been doomed to be on the losing team," Jimin sighs, all dramatic. He shoots Seokjin a teasing smile, like he just knows his hyung won't be able to resist rising to the bait. 

"Losing team?!" Seokjin exclaims, just as predicted, poking his finger into Jimin's chest, "How are you expecting to win? You and Yoongi are too short to even look over the barrier!" 

"Hey! Don't drag me into this," Yoongi pouts, swatting Seokjin's hand away from Jimin. "Let's just start the game. Namjoon, what are the rules?" 

Namjoon claps his hands together, gathering everyone's attention. "Alright, so the rules are very simple. You're allowed to run up to the line that goes through the middle of the cleared area. That means that some of the trees around here can be used for cover as long as you don't cross the line. If you're hit, you're out and have to wait off to the side for the game to end. One team wins when all the players on the opposite team are eliminated. Yoongi hyung and Jungkook have already made a pile of snowballs for each team, but we'll get exactly one minute before the game starts to make as many additional ones as possible."

"Everyone got it?" He asks, looking around the group. You all chime out yes, watching as Namjoon pulls out his phone and sets the timer to 60 seconds.

"Okay, as soon as I hit this, the game starts! Three, two, one– Go!"

You hurry as best you can over to the closest barrier, letting Hoseok drag you along to give you some extra speed. He helps you kneel once you reach it, looking over at Seokjin and Namjoon as he asks, "Okay, so what's our plan? We can't let sunshine get hit." 

"They have Jungkook, so they're going to go in for an intense attack right away. I think our best bet is to just wait until they start slowing down and then attack back. Jimin is probably going to try to sneak closer to the line once it dies down from their side, so let's try to take him out quickly," Namjoon says, keeping his voice low enough that it won't carry over to the other team.

"Sounds good," Seokjin hums. He hastily forms another snowball, adding it to the growing pile beside you. 

"I think you better try to stay out of the way as much as possible, darling, they can get pretty brutal," Namjoon adds, shooting you a worried look.

"That's probably for the best," You agree, slumping further down behind the barrier. There's no way you'll be able to play when you're this bundled up, you doubt you'll be able to duck in time if you even attempt to throw a snowball. 

"Okay, then–" Namjoon's eyes go wide as the alarm on his phone rings out into the near quiet forest. He mutters a curse as he ducks down the best he can, fumbling to turn it off.

The moment it goes silent, mayhem breaks loose. Snowballs start raining down immediately, hitting the barrier with dull thuds. You squeak as one lands right in front of your knees, nearly hitting you. You quickly shuffle to the side, practically crawling, as you hear the other team yell and taunt yours to fight back. 

Just as the attack begins to wind down, Namjoon gestures for the rest of you to lay low while he peeks over the edge.

He's hit in the shoulder before you can even blink, a burst of snow raining down on the rest of the team. Namjoon flashes you all a dumbfounded look as he stumbles back, reaching up to dust off the lingering snow as someone calls out 'You're out!' from the other side.

"They mean business," Namjoon mumbles, shaking his head as he hands his snowball over to Seokjin. 

"We'll get revenge for you, Joonie," Hoseok's expression is somber, a little too serious for a snowball fight. 

"They always get a little too into it, don't mind them," Seokjin whispers, pulling a face.

The moment Namjoon has safely left the area, the fight picks back up, Hoseok and Seokjin joining in on it. It doesn't take long before you hear an indignant cry coming from the other team, Seokjin yelling out a cheer at the direct hit he landed on Jimin. 

You feel like a sitting duck behind the barrier, unable to help your team with how tightly you're bundled up. With the boys still distracted by the ongoing fight, you quickly unzip your jacket in your crouched position, throwing it to the side. Thanks to Seokjin going a little overboard with dressing you up, you already had another jacket underneath to keep you warm. You smile, already feeling a little lighter. 

"Keep going, I'll cover your left," You murmur to Hoseok as you crawl behind him, your sight set on one of the closest trees. You ignore him as he hisses out your name, clearly confused as to why you're moving away from the barrier that's protecting you. 

There's a decent gap between the edge of the barrier and the nearest tree, so you'll have to make a run for it and hope that you manage to catch the others off-guard enough that they won't be able to hit you. You take a deep breath as you bring yourself up to a crouch, placing your hands on the snow for extra support. You shoot off as fast as you can but the big snow pants slow you down significantly, almost reducing your speed to a leisurely stroll. You barely manage to duck behind the first tree, taking cover, when you hear a snowball explode against it. 

"How could you aim for your soulmate?!" You hear Hoseok yell out. 

"Uhm, all is fair in love and war?" Taehyung sheepishly calls back. 

You huff, collecting yourself for a minute before you dare to peek around the tree. The coast seems to be clear, neither Jungkook nor Taehyung is looking your way. You can't spot Yoongi, so you can only assume he's ducked behind the barrier, making more snowballs to keep up with the tempo the two youngest are throwing them at. 

It's now or never.

You use the tree to give yourself a needed push forward, running towards the much larger one that's square in the middle of the cleared area. You're so focused on making it there without getting hit from the side that it takes you a second too long to realize that someone is coming full speed right at you. You barely manage to slow down before you crash right into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling into each other. Yoongi grabs your waist to steady you just as you reach out for his shoulders, your eyes locked in surprise. 

"You scared me," Yoongi wheezes, pulling you tighter against him as another snowball smacks into the tree. 

"Sorry," You puff, "You caught me off-guard too." 

You're both panting from the tiresome terrain, your breaths swirling up towards the sun. Yoongi's cheeks are rosy from the cold, the tip of his nose colored a precious pink. He looks so cute that you almost don't know what to do with yourself.

Your gloved hands find their way from Yoongi's shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them as you ask, "Are you cold?" 

"I-" Yoongi doesn't get the chance to reply before you hear Taehyung get hit, a chorus of groans and cheers sounding from the other side of the tree.

If Taehyung is out, that means that only Yoongi and Jungkook are left. You might not have been able to do much until now, but you'd be damned if you can't at least help take Yoongi out. It might be time to play dirty, even if what you're about to do makes you feel a little bad.

You swoop in to kiss Yoongi the moment you hear Taehyung being greeted by Jimin and Namjoon, pressing your cold lips to his in a chaste kiss. You feel him going pliant in your hands as your heart begins to race, your body burning hot despite the cold.

Yoongi has a starstruck look in his eyes when you lean back, one that quickly morphs into confusion as you yell out Hoseok's name before you duck. A snowball hits Yoongi square in the chest a second later, forcing him to take a step back. 

"You– Seriously?" Yoongi shoots you a betrayed look as you get back to your feet. 

"I'm sorry," You flash him an apologetic smile as you brush the snow away. "I think all of the competitiveness might have rubbed off on me."

"Please forgive me?" You murmur, planting another kiss on his lips, one that lingers a little longer. 

"You're gonna be the death of me," Yoongi groans, shaking his head at the bright smile he gets in response. "Hurry back to your team, Y/n, you haven't won yet." 

Jungkook might be a great player, but he's no match for 3 against 1. It barely takes a minute from the moment Yoongi joins the sidelines until Hoseok lands a hit on him, finally eliminating the entire opposing team. Jungkook looks stunned that he actually got hit, eyes wide as he touches his stomach. Jimin and Taehyung groan in unison, immediately beginning to bicker about what went wrong. 

"Loser team my ass, Park Jimin!" Seokjin points to the sidelines with a wide grin, laughing as Jimin flips him off. 

Hoseok wraps you up in a hug, swaying you from side to side as he laughs. 

"We did it!" You squeal, wrapped up in a burst of happiness as Namjoon comes running over, the entire team huddling together as you celebrate your win. 

"Well done, angel, I didn't know you were so sneaky," Seokjin chuckles, kissing your cheek. 

"I think we might have found our secret weapon," Hoseok agrees, eying you fondly as he ruffles your hair. 

You look over to the other team as you attempt to duck away from Hoseok's hand, your smile growing bigger as you notice the other boys laughing and joking around too. Jungkook seems to be mimicking Yoongi throwing a snowball that didn't go very far, causing Jimin to laugh so hard that he falls over. 

Your heart swells at the scene, at finally seeing all of the boys act normal and happy. Maybe you actually can do this. Maybe it's not too late after all. 

"Come on, let's bring it in!" Namjoon grins, grabbing your hand.

As you all jump around in a circle, arms tangled together and spirits high; all you can think of is that it feels nice – special, even – like something you could get used to. 

a/n: what do we think about the new information the mc found – will it change anything?? and i hope you enjoyed some domestic time spent with the soulmates! (enjoy the good vibes while they last friends <3) i know i promised taegi last time but that has been pushed back to ch 15, so apologies for that, buuut you'll get taegi and namkook smut in one ch so i think that's a good deal, no? 🙈

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖 especially now that we're nearing the end of the story 🥺

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

[lovings4turn]

helloo don’t mind me!! just here to request the prompt ‘that little panicked reach for them if they trip ever so slightly’ with oscar (i love him i fear) <33

ohhh oscar piastri my fav polite cat <3 thank you sm for sending this in darling ,, hope you like it <3

lazy mornings are a rarity for you and oscar. if oscar doesn't have a team meeting at the break of dawn, you have a morning class or an early shift, or another commitment that requires one of you to rush out of the house before the sun has fully risen.

today, though, you're lucky. neither you nor oscar have anywhere to be, your only plans for the day being to spend as much time together as physically possible and soak up every drop of domestic bliss that you can.

making breakfast together, of course, falls under the umbrella of your designated 'oscar time', as you've so lovingly taken to calling it. and while oscar's desire to follow his meal plan may be strong, but his love for home-made pancakes and chopped fruit is far, far stronger.

the batter is fairly easy to whip up, your half-asleep brain thanking you for the lack of thinking necessary to make your breakfast.

oscar is tasked with manning the stove while you begin to prepare the fruit. though the boy claims he’s an expert at flipping the pancakes, you expect to spend five minutes after eating scraping batter off of the hob. still, his earnestness is nothing but endearing.

with a box of strawberries in hand, you begin to make your way back over to the counter. somehow, the four steps that make up your journey prove too complicated, and you stumble a little as you walk. it's nothing serious; just enough to make you swear under your breath as you lose your footing, yet you remain upright.

the pancake is abandoned, and oscar instantly has a hand on your waist to steady you, usually neutral face painted with an expression of disbelief. you know formula one drivers are expected to have fast reflexes, but it’s as though oscar has trained himself to respond to anything pertaining to you at an almost superhuman speed.

his brows are furrowed, and you want to lean forward and press a kiss against the space between them in order to get him to relax.

"there's no way. you did not just trip over air, y/n."

"sorry. i was just falling for you," you respond in a sing-song tone, flashing oscar the widest, proudest grin you can muster.

silence.

"ugh," he groans, nose scrunched in faux disgust. "you're so cheesy."

"and you love it," you hum, playfully tapping the flushed tip of his nose with a teasing smile.

"yeah, yeah, i'll just let you fall next time, darling" oscar grumbles, though the corner of his mouth is quirked up into a fond smile. "i'm sure the cold kitchen tiles'll humble you a little.”

your jaw drops in shock, and as you search for a witty retort, your eyes land on oscar’s pancake. still wrapped up in his act of chivalry, eyes not having left your frame yet, your boyfriend fails to notice his culinary masterpiece is quickly overcooking.

you sniff once, then once again, plastering a look of confusion onto your face before you speak.

“do you smell burning?”

“fuck!”

[wileys-russo]

I jusr re-read Mrs. Williamson and the idea of rxLeah with Alessia as the little sister is something I can't get out of my head. So I have a suggestion, I thought about her usually being a little shit (like in the story) but then also being very protective of her older sister. Maybe r and Leah have a fight and Alessia is very protective but in a sweet way not a mean way towards Leah, more like pampering r but being firm in demanding an apology from Leah. Or something along those lines, would love to read something like thins from you! :)

mrs williamson ficlet, continuing on from here

alessia had answered your call as she usually would, with a sarcastic remark about never gaining back the minutes of her life you were about to drain her from. though the very second you'd spoken and she heard the way your voice cracked she was sitting bolt upright with a frown.

"what happened? are you okay? is the baby okay?" "the baby is fine. can you come over please?"

she was there in record time, grateful to have not been pulled over the way with the way she sped through the last two sets of lights before pulling into your driveway.

the first thing alessia noticed was the lack of your wifes car in the driveway and her eyebrows knitted together, grabbing her bag and kicking her door shut she jogged up the front steps.

you'd already opened the front door before she even reached it, and her features softened seeing your red puffy eyes clearly indicating you'd been crying. "whats happened then?" your younger sister pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back which was aching given you were now five months pregnant.

you only shook your head not able to even speak as alessia sighed, shuffling the two of you inside and closing the door as you let go of her. "where's leah?" alessia asked gently as she followed you into the kitchen, the scoff and roll of your eyes all she needed to know the blonde was clearly not in your good books.

"not here." you muttered, moving to grab two mugs from the cupboard as alessia appeared behind you. "i'll do it, sit down please." she shooed you away ignoring your protests, helping you sit down carefully on the lounge.

"shit you're huge now." she remarked bluntly as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the piercing glare sent her way having her eyes widen. "not like that! just, you know." alessia gestured awkwardly to her stomach, wincing as you continued to blankly stare at her.

"i'll get the tea!" she announced, darting back to the kitchen as you rolled your eyes and glanced down to your phone beside you which was lighting up with notifications, turning it over and not bothering to even look at them.

alessia returned and shot you a filthy look as you made a comment you were surprised she managed to carry both mugs in and not spill a drop, your younger sister notoriously clumsy.

"so dear sister. self care day?"

~

"is it supposed to feel sort of like its burning?" you questioned with a slight frown, touching your cheeks which were coated in a charcoal facemask alessia had gifted you ages ago and had remained untouched.

"yes! that means its working to get rid of all your wrinkles." alessia mumbled as you kicked her with a glare for the comment. "hey! you're messing up my artwork." the blonde scowled, tugging your foot back into her lap where she was painting your toenails having already done your nails.

"so will you tell me now what you and leah are fighting about?" your sister asked glancing up at you curiously, not having pushed you too much but still in the dark on why it was that your wife was nowhere to be found and you'd clearly been crying when she showed up.

though as you shook your head the striker sighed but again didn't push you, knowing better than to try and get information out of you that you clearly weren't ready to share.

despite how much of a kick she got from winding you up and messing with you this was one of those rare occasions you were grateful for her, and the quiet thank you mumbled to her was all she needed for a grin to settle into her features.

you feared she'd hold this against you for her own gain in the future but for now you were just relishing in her efforts to make you feel better, no matter how much you might argue the two of you were still incredibly close and despite being younger alessia had always been fiercely protective.

which is why when the door rang and she glanced over your head to see leahs car was now parked in the driveway alessia was quick to her feet, ordering you to let your nails dry and handing you some micellar wipes to remove the mask from your face.

"leah." your sister spoke dryly as she opened the door, the older girl caught off guard as she frowned. "alessia?" she answered with a raised eyebrow. "why are you here then?" the younger blonde challenged, effectively blocking the doorway as leah gave her a strange look.

"well because i live here. why exactly are you here less?" "i'm here because my heavily pregnant sister called me crying and upset, which i can only assume is your doing. so, come to apologise then?"

"did she tell you why she's upset?" leah narrowed her eyes trying to step inside as alessia protectively spread herself to further block the door. "she didn't need to." alessia quipped back causing leah to exhale deeply.

"babe!" leah cupped her hands and yelled out into the house making alessia roll her eyes. "what?" you hovered behind your sister, eyes slit into a glare and arms crossed over her chest.

"this is so stupid love. what have you done?" leah sighed as alessia scoffed. "what has she done?" the taller girl retorted as your hand fell to her shoulder gaining her attention.

"you left me leah." "i what!?

"you left her while she's nearly six months pregnant leah what the hell is the matter with you!" alessia angrily lunged for her team mate who hastily stepped back as you pulled your sister inside by the back of her jumper and mumbled for her to stop it.

"i didn't leave you! i went to the shops!" leah gestured to the bags by her feet as alessia fell silent and took a step back as you stepped forward. "i woke up and you were gone, your car was gone, there wasn't a note and you left your house keys behind." your eyes welled up with tears as leahs face softened.

"baby i've sent you like a hundred messages. i knew you were upset i couldn't find the peanut butter ice cream last night so i've gone to like ten different stores till i found it." leah picked up one of the bags and showed you its contents.

"im sorry!" you burst out into tears as your wife hurried to pull you into a hug, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing your back.

"sorry, pause!" alessia laughed in disbelief, leah shooting her a warning glare which was ignored. "she went to the shops for a few hours and you thought she left you?" alessia shook her head, running a hand down her face with a shake of her head.

"alessia i am pregnant and hormonal okay!" you sobbed as leah shushed you and placed a kiss to your forehead. "oh my-" alessia wasted no time grabbing her keys and pushing past you.

"if you weren't pregnant i would throw you down these stairs!" your sister seethed, pausing to take a deep breath as she caught leahs eye who smiled apologetically.

"you are hereby banned from calling me unless its about the baby, you're dying, you're in labour or seriously injured." your sister warned seriously, pointing at you with a menacing look before huffing and storming off down the driveway.

"i love you!" you yelled after her, a middle finger all you got in response as you buried your face in your wifes chest and she helped you inside, still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"darling you seriously thought i left you? why didn't you just call me or read my messages?" "again, very pregnant and very hormonal okay i wasn't able to think!" "right right sorry my love, lets get some ice cream into you then. i love you very very much...even if you're a little unhinged." "leah i heard that!"

[greatooglymooglyyy]

hi i just want to say you do absolutely amazing work and i love it i was wondering if you could do a matt or chris one shot where the reader just hasn’t been doing well with stress and their anxiety acting up cause something really important to them is soon and they help comfort reader and take readers mind off of it till the day of. i have a theater performance next week and im really anxious about it and this would really help thank you and i hope you have a good day

I'll Look After You (Matthew Sturniolo)

contains: stressed out reader, mentions of anxiety and insecurity, fluff, kissing, bf!matt to the rescue, 1.k words

a/n: hi anon. i wanted to get to this request asap because i've definitely been there before. i hope this helps you even a little bit. i know you'll kill it. love uuuuu

“Could beauty, my lord, have better…Fuck! Line.” I say running my hand roughly through my hair in frustration.

It’s the night before my debut in Hamlet, a play I’ve been in love with since seventh grade, and somehow I’m managing to forget all of my lines. Even after all the weeks of rehearsals and notes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’m playing Ophelia. Well, I will be if I can get my shit together.

Matt sits at the table watching me intently as I pace back and forth in his kitchen. “I think you’re hitting a wall, baby. Maybe you should take a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break! Line.” I snap, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth and chewing nervously.

He narrows his eyes at my tone but continues to read. “Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?”

I repeat the line and he answers with Hamlet’s. We continue back and forth for a few lines before I stumble again. “You were not deceived.” I cringe, knowing the line is wrong before Matt speaks.

"I was the most deceived.” He corrects softly and I groan in defeat.

“God, I’m an idiot. This is all my fault! I was reading The Scottish Play before rehearsals today and now I’m cursed! I didn’t even say the damn thing out loud.” I gesture wildly at where the book sits open near Matt.

His face screws up in confusion. “What does Macbeth have to-”

“Matt! Are you crazy? Don’t tempt the witches!”

“Have you lost-” He takes a deep breath and regains composure. “Take a seat, baby.”

I begrudgingly drop down into the chair across from him, tapping my fingers restlessly on the table.

“What are you so afraid of?” Matt asks gently, nudging my foot under the table.

At the question, all my insecurities flood back up. I don’t know how to tell him that I’ve never thought of myself as a lead before. Don’t know how to make him understand how deeply I want to see whatever my director saw in me at auditions. So instead I try for something simpler. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are.” He answers without a second of hesitation.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me.”

“Give them five minutes of watching you on stage and everyone in that theater will be too.”

I want to believe him but how can that be true if I can’t even remember my lines? I drop my head down on the table, pressing my face to the cool wood and closing my eyes.

Matt reaches his hand across the table and smooths a thumb over my wrist. “C’mon. Take a drive with me.”

I look up at his kind smile, tears welling in my eyes. “No, Matt. I can do it. I can get past this block.”

He comes around the table and kneels beside the chair, turning me to face him. “I know.” He pulls me into his arms and places a kiss on the side of my head. “Come with me anyway.”

**************

We drive to In and Out and park in a random parking lot, listening to the quiet sound of drizzle hitting the van. Matt’s been unusually chatty since we headed out, feeling the silence I would usually take up while he nods along.

He starts to tell me what to do if I encounter different types of bears and I can’t help but laugh at his delivery.

When he’s finished, I sit back and stare out the window at the dark clouds. But when I feel Matt’s eyes on me, I turn back to meet his gaze. “What?”

He leans closer to me, his eyes soft and open. “I just want to know that you,” he starts, his tone straight out of a romance movie. “have some grease on your nose. You should probably get that off.”

I laugh and wipe my nose, flipping him off. “Oh, all of a sudden, you got jokes?”

We settle into a comfortable silence and Matt grabs his phone to pick a new song as Frank Ocean fades out. When I hear the beginning notes of my favorite The Fray song, I grin over at him.

“I thought you didn’t like them and think they sing in cursive?” I tease as he turns the song up a bit.

“I’ve reconsidered. Dance with me?”

“It’s raining! We’ll get soaked.”

“Dance with me anyway.”

I grin as I fling my door open and meet him at the front of the car. I lock my arms around his neck as he pulls me in by the waist.

🎶‘when i’m losing my control the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows to slow it down’🎶

Matt pulls me closer to him, our bodies flush, as we sway back and forth. He presses quick kisses to the side of my head and I giggle as he nuzzles his face into mine. He swings me out so he can clumsily pull me back to him and we both burst into laughter.

🎶‘you’ve begun to feel like home’🎶

We spin around now, completely offbeat, the water on the ground around us splashing up and soaking us even more.

He wraps his arms back around my waist as the song begins to fade out, still holding me close. I open my mouth to make a joke about it ending when I hear the drums of Taylor Swift’s Lover.

I pull back and stare at him in incredulity and he shrugs. “It’s your playlist.” And my heart takes off like a rocket ship.

I reach up and press my lips to his, a gentle kiss that turns more passionate as I try to fill it with as much love as I feel right now. When I pull away, he licks his lips, his face a deep and satisfied red. “I love you.” He whispers.

“This is the very ecstasy of love,” I reply with a grin. Not my line, per se, but close enough.

And as Matt leans down and closes the space between us again, I feel the block around Ophelia’s lines loosen. But how could it not with a muse like this.

🏷️: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper @st4rswrld @leah-loves-lilies

[ddejavvu]

Eddie throwing your younger niece/nephew/cousin(s) into the couch and in the air and all over the place while you’re gone for five minutes when babysitting them. They’re the ones squealing with delight and asking for it though!

Eddie has assured you that he is more than capable of babysitting while you make dinner. And to his credit, he's over twenty years old, and he's able-bodied. He should have no issues dealing with two toddlers that are winding down for the night already, tired after a day at the park.

Contrary to what he'd assured you, when you walk in to let them know that dinner is five minutes from completion, you watch in stiff, frozen horror as your niece flies through the air towards you.

Eddie's eyes widen in momentary terror until you shoot your arms out to catch her, and she lands in your grip in a heap of giggles.

"Eddie!" You snap, "What are you doing?"

"She was gonna land on the couch!" Eddie gestures to the cushion just behind you, that you'd accidentally covered when you'd stepped through the doorway. Admittedly, she could have easily stuck the landing, but the fact that she was airborne at all makes you nervous.

"It's fun!" She gushes, and her younger sister tugs at Eddie's belt chain. At her prompting, he picks her up, and she points vigorously to the couch, silently begging to be tossed.

"You threw the baby?" Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, and the girl in your arms only laughs harder.

"She's fine," Eddie insists, "I don't throw her far. Move, babe, I'll show you."

"No!" You gush, but he nudges you out of the way anyways. You watch with poorly-concealed fear as he gently scoops the baby into optimal throwing position, then softly launches her less than a foot onto the cushion. She lands softly, a mess of drooly laughter and shiny eyes, and clamors back over to him when he holds his arms out.

He's grinning down at her but soon remembers your distaste for their new game, and regards you with a cautious glance. You scoff at the twin pouts on their face, albeit her cheeks are chubbier than his, and you pass the girl in your arms back over when she reaches for Eddie.

"No more than three feet," You warn him, and all three of the guilty parties grin at each other excitedly, "Remember: If we have to go to the hospital tonight, no one gets mac and cheese!"

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 08. boo boo the fool

nsfw content below (minors dni)

WHEN YOU GOT HOME, THE LIGHTNESS IN YOUR CHEST QUICKLY BECAME THICK UNEASINESS.

Your bi-level penthouse was dark when you entered, and you felt more alone than ever. Even your day out with Yuna felt strange; deep down, you didn't exactly forgive her, but you felt obligated to accept her apology once she poured her heart out to you. At this point, you didn't even want to check your texts from Giselle, Karina, or Yeonjun about the Instagram stories she posted. You were just as exasperated that she took them despite her so-called social media break.

Even calling your father felt like a chore. You listened to him ramble on about how you needed to do better and strive for greatness. Fix up your resumé. Reach out if you needed referrals. Do more. Make connections. Work harder. Be the person he wanted you to be.

After you showered and settled in to unwind for the night, you heard a knock at the door—five knocks, actually. The pattern was familiar; it was Sunghoon's signature knock. You and your boyfriend came up with it years ago to use on each other, and the repetition made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

You weren't quite sure if you were ready to see him. Not after the argument you both had.

Still, you crossed your living room to open the door because you were far too weak to ignore him.

When you saw him, flushed cheeks from the cold and fluffy hair falling over his forehead, you felt butterflies flap violently in your stomach.

"Can I come in?" he asked, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Of course." You opened the door wider for him. "I thought you said you were busy."

"Never too busy for my girl."

Normally, those words would have made you blush so hotly that you wouldn't be able to hide your shyness from him. This time, however, you felt a pang of disappointment. How come he could say that so easily but went back on his words every single time? Not to mention he wasn't even looking at you as he said it.

"Are you staying over tonight?" you asked, hope swelling in your chest when he took off his coat.

You and Sunghoon hadn't slept together since school started, and it was starting to upset you because you hardly got to see him over the summer, too. He was busy with his internship most of the time, and then when you two went to Bora Bora with Heeseung, you barely had any privacy to start anything with him.

"Can I?" He circled his arms around your waist to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a murmur when he added, "I think I'll be really tired later, so..."

You swallowed thickly. That could only mean one thing, right? You hoped you weren't getting your hopes up over nothing. The scalding knot in your stomach grew tighter when you felt his body press against yours.

"Yeah, I still have your pajamas," you said, "and your toothbrush is still in my bathroom."

After leading him to the couch, your boyfriend gave you a foot massage while you told him about your day. You admitted to feeling lonely, and Sunghoon apologized with a frown, although you weren't feeling hopeful that he would do anything about it.

"Is it school that's stressing you out?" he asked in that ever-so-tender voice that made you melt. "Is it The Order? You don't have to try so hard, you know?"

"They only take fifteen people," you replied. "I can't be sure one of them will be me."

"Better you than anyone else. I thought you said you were getting close to Jennie."

"I am, but"—you sighed—"I just feel like I'm gonna blow the interview. What am I gonna do when they ask what I wanna do with my life?"

Sunghoon gave you an odd look, as if the answer was as clear as day. "Tell them you're taking over Mercy West."

"But what if I don't want to?"

"Why wouldn't you want to?"

Because I'm not you, you thought. Because my aspirations aren't living up to my dad's expectations.

Instead, you settled for saying, "I think I'm just stressed."

"I know it's hard." He was nodding in understanding as he pressed kisses to the top of your head. You were so wrapped up in your own head that you hardly noticed some of the tender pecks. "I almost gave up on trying to be my dad's favorite."

You frowned. "Did Sungjin say something again?"

"He's just being a dick like always, but enough of that. Is everything alright with your parents?"

"They're the same as ever. I see mom, like, four times a year—unless she decides she wants to fly me out somewhere—and then dad's always too busy to be around. At least now I can live alone and go see them whenever they're around."

Then, the strangest words came out of Sunghoon's mouth, and he said them as if he was in some sort of dreamlike trance. "What if we just ran away together?"

"We could," you replied, entertaining the idea. "Buy a house in Iceland. Raise a couple of dogs together. We could start our own business or something."

"What kind of business?" He hummed as he thought. "Ah, we could make friendship bracelets."

You barked out a laugh. "Friendship bracelets? That's a business?"

"Yeah, you used to be really good at making them. I still have the one you gave me."

"You do?"

"It's not on me because I'm scared of losing it, but I've kept it in a box at home. Still fits like a charm."

You smiled at the memory, thinking back to the days of your youth when you stayed up all night making those bracelets for him and Heeseung. You thought you had unlocked some sort of hidden talent back then (especially after Heeseung went on and on about how he had never seen such a well-made bracelet, which you realized later was probably the first friendship bracelet he had seen). You didn't realize back then that you wove Sunghoon's with special feelings in each strand.

Sunghoon then proposed watching one of the cheesy reality shows you were addicted to. His hands were wrapped securely around you, and you settled comfortably in his chest. The both of you laid there well after the show ended and your TV screen turned off.

"I missed you," he murmured into your hair.

"I missed you, too—so much."

He was stroking your cheek gently by now—soothing circles that almost lulled you into a trance. The unsteady breath you drew in was almost pathetic.

"I'm so tired of all the arguments."

"I don't wanna fight with you, I just—"

"I know." His hands moved up to cup your cheeks, supporting your jaw enough to tilt your chin up higher. His gaze ran over the curve of your lips before he inched closer. "Let me just make it up to you, okay?"

You could only nod, dazed, before Sunghoon pressed his lips to yours with fervor.

His fingers were lost in your hair while your hands gripped the front of his shirt. Your lips succumbed as soon as his tongue prodded at your lower lip, begging for more. Sunghoon didn't seem to have the mind to take it slow; he wanted everything you offered—all at once. The way his hands dropped to your hips to grab you and pull you to him made you believe he would've ravaged you if he had less patience.

He was like a storm. You could hardly keep up with him, but you wanted more. With a broken whimper against his lips and your fingers now unbuttoning his shirt, you completely forgot where you even were as he cupped your breasts with little restraint.

Each kiss felt like he was breathing life back into you. You had yearned for him to hold you like this for so long, and your relationship was starting to feel hopeless once all the constant fights were going on. Now, finally, it felt like that spark was back.

"Sit up," he ordered in a low voice, and you had no mind to question him once you felt his bulge pressing against your thigh, "and take off your shorts."

Was this really happening? You almost always got him off first. He always returned the favor afterward, of course, but this was a shocking development.

But you weren't complaining.

You didn't break eye contact with your boyfriend as you sat back on your white couch, shimmying off your satin shorts before you did so and discarding them. Five grand and soft fabric, but you didn't even care if Sunghoon was about to ruin it.

His gaze was hungry. You had to pretend your veins weren't melting at the very look in his eyes, and, oh, how they darkened at the sight of your bare thighs pressed together.

Sunghoon rolled his sleeves up and then unclasped his watch in a single motion—without even looking at it—and tossed it aside without a second thought. It was the watch his father had gotten him for his eighteenth birthday. The forty grand watch his father had gotten him—laying on the ground.

His hands pushed your legs apart, rubbing your thighs up and down before his fingers teased the band of your underwear. He snapped it playfully, causing you to press your lips together tightly. You didn't dare show him a reaction in case he decided to tease you by pulling away.

But he didn't. He was too impatient for that now as he slipped his fingers past the band and tugged your underwear down to your ankles, keeping direct eye contact with you the entire time. You kicked it off your feet and watched as Sunghoon bent his head to kiss up your thighs.

Slow, open-mouthed kisses that left you biting your lip hard enough that you were almost afraid it would bleed.

"Please," you whispered once he reached the apex of your legs.

Sunghoon grinned up at you, all smug and cocky. The sight could've brought you to your knees if you were still standing.

"Anything for you, my pretty girl."

He moved your legs so that they were over his shoulders, and you leaned back so that you could hold onto the head of the couch. He pressed a hot kiss to your cunt, and you shuddered at the feeling of his soft lips.

He pressed a few more lingering, open-mouthed kisses to your pulsing muscle before licking a long stripe along your soaked cunt, humming inquisitively with an almost insufferable, teasing lilt.

You gasped at the contact, arching back against the couch as Sunghoon flattened his tongue against your folds and continued lapping at your arousal. You felt like you were floating elsewhere, unable to come back down to reality.

It was almost painful how turned on you were. You nearly cried out when his tongue ran over your engorged clit—sore and throbbing from how badly you needed him.

Your soft, broken moans must have roused Sunghoon to push your hips down and start eating you out with sudden vigor. You felt sweat start to bead at the bridge of your nose, leaving a sheen across your flushed skin.

With the position you were in, you struggled to grind your hips against his tongue for more. You needed more. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, but you couldn't stop yourself from chasing your high.

"How good am I making you feel?" he asked in that silky, velvety voice of his.

"S-so good," you managed to get out through teary eyes. "I can't, Hoon, I—"

He shushed you with his lips still pressed against your cunt. His very breath traveled all the way up your spine, up to your already foggy brain and making it all the more cloudy and dazed.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," he murmured, and he plunged his tongue inside you with no mercy.

You felt like you had burst into flames seconds later. The pleasure racked your body in waves, nearly causing you to double over on the arm of your couch. You gripped the fabric tighter until you suspected you had plucked some loose strings right out.

You had no idea you were crying out in pleasure until Sunghoon was shushing you gently, moving back up right after your orgasm to hold you in his arms and kiss you with utmost passion. You were practically clawing at him, begging him to help you ride out your orgasm, but he wasn't listening.

You pouted, whining, "But I want more."

"Baby, it's late," he said, stroking your hair after he pushed the loose strands out of your face. "I promise we'll have all the time in the world to ourselves soon."

Although you were slightly disappointed, you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him hold you tight to his body. He knew that you liked to be a little clingy after intimacy, so even though you were upset that you couldn't pleasure him in return, you still wanted to be close to your boyfriend.

You let Sunghoon carry you to bed. He was always so gentle in how he laid you down properly in your queen-sized bed and tucked you in. Even though your eyelids felt heavy, you waited for him to change into the spare clothes he left at your place ages ago, and then crawl in next to you once he was ready.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the palm of your hand.

Sunghoon stroked your side gently, circling his thumb against your skin as he asked you, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," you replied too quickly, still clouded by love and the afterglow of your orgasm.

"Why are you still friends with Yuna?" His gaze was intense for a moment before softening again. "I don't think she's... good for you."

Soon after, hot acid roiled in your gut. The chill that ran down your spine felt like nails against a chalkboard.

Everything came crashing down.

"She's just gonna keep hurting you," he continued, carding his fingers through your hair. When all you could do was stare at him, Sunghoon took that as his cue to settle back into bed and nestle his chin into the crook of your neck. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Wait—is that why you came over?" you asked, hardly audible, and you weren't exactly sure if Sunghoon even caught your words.

"Huh?" He rubbed his eyes, his voice muffled with sleep. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you down by his side. "Let's just go to bed, baby. We can talk tomorrow."

Stiff and unwilling, your body hardly relaxed in his hold. You complied all the same, though, because your shock was so immense that no words came to mind. All you could do was close your eyes and will your tears away before your boyfriend noticed that you were crying.

Hysteria rose in your throat, but before the hilarity and absolute despair of the situation was about to overtake you, odd numbness filled your body instead.

You were questioning everything—questioning your feelings for Sunghoon, questioning his feelings for you.

And maybe those weren't butterflies in your stomach, after all. Maybe they were moths, fluttering erratically in the direction of a light that would only burn them.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (Part 9)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: I've been soo excited to write this part, especially the ending. Despite the almost whole thing being erased because I didnt save it, I like this part. Hope you do too.

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n smiled softly as she stared at the Sidra, standing next to Azriel while leaning against the railing of the bridge.

"It's very peaceful." She murmured.

"That it is. It feels more so at night, because there's more chaos nearby." He offered. She nodded.

They had been walking around the city for a couple of hours now, and it was almost dinnertime. They had decided to rest for a few moments before continuing. She was so tired that she was sure that her legs would fall off if she took another step. Obviously, she hadn't considered the consequences when she promised to spend the whole day with him.

The whole morning and afternoon was spent with him pointing at shops and telling her of how he and his brothers terrorised Velaris in their younger years. Y/n's stomach hurt from how much she had laughed. From those stories, she knew that most of his five hundred years had brought him happiness. And that made her happy, for a reason she didnt want to think of.

He tilted his body so he faced her more. "Where do you want to eat?"

"I don't know...can't you decide?" She glanced at him, quickly turning back to the river, because she couldn't look at him for more than a moment without blushing. Especially with the intensity with which he looked at her. As if she was the only person in the world and if he didn't pay attention to every word she said, he'd die.

She could feel him smile as he straightened. "There is this place along the banks of Sidra. Its the inner circle's current favourite place to eat."

"Okay." She mumbled as she turned to him. "How far is it?"

"Don't worry. I'll carry you."

"Excuse me?"

He grinned, turning away from her and giving her instructions to wrap her arms around his neck, ignoring her protests. She finally relented, his hands going under her thighs to hoist her up. He couldn't look at her, which she was glad for, because all he would've seen was the redness in her face.

She clutched him tighter as he started walking, mindful of his wings. He again started telling her stories.

"There used to be a restaurant there." He pointed to a tailoring shop with a jerk of his head. "When we ate there for the first time, we were obsessed. We made plans all week to eat there on the weekend. When the day came, Cassian starved himself in hopes of being able to eat more. And, because he was so hungry, he gobbled down all the food without chewing. When we were leaving, he started feeling nauseous."

Y/n grinned and rested her head on his shoulder, having an inkling of where this was going.

"As soon as we stepped inside the town house, he threw up all over the threshold. After that he never even stepped foot in the general vicinity of the restaurant, as if it was somehow cursed."

Y/n laughed. "He is... a masterpiece."

"That he is." He agreed. Soon, they had reached the restaurant he was telling about and he helped her settle before he took seat.

As they ate, he managed to get Y/n to tell him about her life. And, because there were not really any happy or pleasant memories in her life, she told him of the less gruesome and painful ones. She watched as his anger grew with every word from her mouth.

When they were flying back, he stayed mostly quiet, as if lost in thought. Before they landed though, he turned to her.

"There is a family dinner tomorrow at the river House. I'd be happy if you came."

She considered it for a moment before nodding. "I'll come."

"Thank you." Quiet joy took over his face as he set her down, his lips twitching as if he was holding back a smile as he kissed her hand before flying away.

She stared at his form until she couldn't anymore, smiling.

Azriel had been extremely adorable today, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn't excited to see this side of him again.

•○🌑○•

The darkness was creeping in again as she stared at her abdomen in the mirror. Her shirt was stuck around her wrists as she clutched the cloth to her chest. The disgusting thoughts and vile ideas she had regarding the disgusting marks on her body swirled through her mind.

She hated herself for it.

She hated everyone who played a role in bringing her to this point.

Everyone who had a hand in turning the hopeful little soul she had been into the unoptimistic female she was today.

Somewhere deep in her she knew it was wrong to think about herself that way, but she didn't care. Her father and the other men's laughs were too loud for her to hear the rational thoughts.

This was the sole reason why she never looked at herself when she changed. It bought back those dark memories and thoughts. But today she couldn't help it.

She was getting ready to go to the dinner with the inner circle when she had peeked at herself, and now she couldn't stop thinking of how disgusting her body was.

She knew if someone came in from the door, they would have an unobstructed view of the map of horror on her back. But she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

While she was busy thinking of these things, she didn't hear the soft footfalls nearing her room. She didn't hear them until it was too late.

A knock sounded before her husband poked his head in, the smile on his face disappearing as she pulled the shirt back over her head. She gave him a shaky smile as she watched a muscle feather in her jaw.

"Az– Azriel. Did you need something?"

He didn't reply, entering the room fully, the door clicking shut behind him. He prowled closer, ignoring her questions and attempts at distraction. When he was close enough, he traced lines on her now clothed back, exactly where some of those scars were.

His eyes slowly lifted to meet hers in the mirror, his voice quiet and deadly as he spoke. "May I?" His hands brushed the hem of her shirt. She wanted to say no, but she nodded.

He slowly and gently lifted her shirt as she clutched the front of it so she didn't get completely naked in front of him. His eyes traced the marks on her back with a fierceness that would've sent people running.

"Who did this to you?" His voice sent shivers down her spine.

"My– my father and a few other men."

He met her eyes again, his eyes flashing before glancing down at her abdomen which had gotten exposed. He stepped closer, curling his arm around her around her to reach the scars. His face was murderous, but his hands were gentle. So gentle her knees nearly buckled.

He traced those scars, completely silent. The air was filled with tension as she watched his every move, her eyes prickling.

His eyes slowly lifted to hers again, his voice lower and more dangerous as he spoke. "Anywhere else?"

She knew he was asking if she had more scars. Which she did, so after a moment of consideration, she unclasped the few of the clasps at the top of the shirt and pulled the flaps aside.

A startled gasp full of horror left him as his eyes flew wide.

There, on her chest right above where her heart should be, was a nasty scar.

"How did you survive that!?" He questioned, his voice wobbling.

She smiled. "He wouldn't have let me die that easily." She turned to him. "Before the bargain between us was made, he wasn't that bad. Then he slowly started ignoring us. Mother wasn't talking to him, spending most of her days with me. But then, so deep in despair she was, she stopped taking care of herself. And that was the start of her slow and sure demise." She took a deep breath, tears gathering in her eyes.

"After she died, he only got worse. He started yelling at us, and then hitting us. It soon turned to whipping us." She searched Azriel's face before continuing. "After you left, the Camp Lord kicked us out of the camp, not wanting to share the power when he was no longer getting something out of it. We stayed nearby for a few years before father somehow convinced him to let us back into the camp.

"Later on, we found out that he had made a bargain that he would let the males in the camp beat us for their own sick pleasure. He–"

"What?" He had gone rigid.

She swallowed. "They started an event. It took place every year. The men who wanted to feel like they were great warriors would come and fight with the women, who had no experience. Seeing their opponent, especially a female, beaten and bruised, gave then satisfaction. Some of those scars are the result of this event. But it was stopped the moment Rhysand became High Lord.

"One day, father got so frustrated for something that I can't recall right now, and conveniently, I was nearby. He got a blunt knife that he was about to sharpen, ant stuck it in my chest. It hurt." A tear escaped her eye as she recalled the pain. "And becuase it was blunt, it took more force for it to pierce skin. When he was done and I was nearly dead, he got a healer to get me healed."

At this point, tears were streaming down her cheeks. He pulled her to his chest, his lips ghosting over her temple. He murmured things in her ear, but she couldn't make anything out over the sound of her sobs and her heart beating in her chest as she clutched onto Azriel as if he was the only thing keeping her alive.

He didn't complain, holding her back just as fiercely.

Sometime later, she decided to get dressed. So she pulled away and walked into the adjoining bathroom. When she came back out, Azriel smiled at her.

"I'll drop you off at the house. I have an important thing to do."

She nodded, despite wanting to ask him to not go.

Soon, she was sitting with the inner circle in the sitting room of the River House, glancing out the window continuously, hoping he came back soon.

•○🌑○•

It was somewhere near midnight when Azriel returned, smiling at her. She smiled back, a blush already creeping up her face. He sat next to her. He smelled and looked like he just taken a bath, his hair damp.

Almost an hour later, the High Lord left the sitting room, saying someone had brought some reports for him. Azriel watched him go, his jaw clenching. But when he found Y/n looking at him, he smiled again, relaxing.

It wasn't long before Rhysand burst back in, fuming. He walked straight to Azriel, who was already standing.

"What is this Azriel?" Rhysand waved some papers in front of her husbands face. Confused, everybody sat straighter, somber.

Unease started swirling in Y/n's stomach. If the High Lord was so mad, it must be something important.

Azriel glanced at the High Lord's hand before back at him, speaking calmly. "Those are papers Rhys. More specifically, they look like reports."

Rhysand looked on the verge of murdering someone. Y/n stood. "Tell me why, tell me fucking why, an Illyrian camp was burned to the ground. That too exactly while you were absent."

Her heart stopped as she stared at Azriel, his face void of any emotion or remorse. If anything, he looked proud.

What in the name of the cauldron did he do?

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides @5moremin @stargirl1714 @bunnymallowo @ivy-34

Part 10

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

We'll give it a shot

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: G

CW: aftermath of injury; aftermath of trauma

Tags: Established relationship; recovery; fluff

Notes: Continued from days 3 and 18 - @house-of-the-moving-image and I just wanted them to be happy after all we put them through. 😭❤️

Steve has always been all movement, all fluid grace, for as long as Eddie remembers. On the pitch, in the pool. Shielding others with his own body, his strength. He was proud of this. It was the one thing he knew he was good at.

And then Vecna nearly twisted his limbs from his body. Broke his arm in three different places, his leg in five.

“They say I'll need to be patient,” Steve tells Eddie a few months after everything, hands tangled over the middle console of the van. It's late December and they're on their way back from physical therapy. “Could be months before I walk without crutches. Years maybe before I'm back to the way I was before… or close.”

Eddie clenches his free hand around the steering wheel, like Steve clung to that stupid handrail earlier. White-knuckled and pale-faced, jaw locked tight as he struggled to take a few shaky steps. Not for the first time, he wishes that he'd been faster, pulled him out sooner-

“Eds.”

He snaps back to the present as if pulled by a bungee rope. Steve’s eyes are warm and soft.

“Stop it,” he says, gentle and firm and so very strong, so very Steve. Eddie needs to swallow against the sudden thickness clogging his throat. “You've nothing to hold against yourself. You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” Eddie huffs, eyes stubbornly trained on the snowy road. “I helped, is all. You can do this, too. You'll be walking in no time, you just wait.”

“Dunno,” Steve mutters. He sounds so small, so broken, so very much not like himself, and Eddie wishes he could resurrect Vecna, simply to kill him again. Make it more painful this time, let him suffer like he made them suffer. “You saw me just now. Feels like I need to fight forever for every little inch of success.”

“Let's make a deal?”

The words are out before Eddie can think better of it, but the sadness on Steve’s face has given way to curiosity, so he shoulders on.

“We could make it a new year's resolution. If you manage to walk by … July, let's say, I'll quit smoking.”

“Oh, please!” Steve's eyebrow quirks. “As if you could.”

“Of course I could. I'm tired of you whining about my cigarette breath anyhow. What's wrong, big boy? Scared of getting your ass handed to you?”

“Fuck off,” Steve grouses, but his mouth is curling into a smile and his eyes are sparkling. “It's on, dude!”

“Hell, yeah!” Eddie makes no attempt at hiding his smug grin. Count on Steve’s competitive streak to win him over. “It's so on!”

*

“Oh God,” Steve squawks the second his hands lose contact with the crutches. “It's off. Eds, it's off, give’m here.”

“Nuh-uh!” Eddie dances a step back - not far, still close enough to catch Steve in case he falls, but far enough to keep the crutches out of reach. “Just give it a shot, c’mon. You got this.”

Over the distance between them, their eyes meet.

“I've gotcha.”

Steve's eyes light up and a small laugh bubbles from his throat.

And then he walks.

Eddie makes sure to stay a bit ahead, spouting a never-ending string of encouragement and jokes and sweet nonsense. Just keeps talking so that Steve can focus on something other than the fear and the doubt. Guides him with his voice like he's done before, like he'll keep doing for as long as Steve needs, as long as he wants.

The first steps are unsure and wobbly, but soon enough, Steve finds his footing. They've both kicked off their shoes, and the dry summer grass is brittle under their naked feet, the earth soft and warm. The sound of their footfalls mingles with the whirr of the cicadas in the grass, the rush of his own blood in his ears, their mingled laughter, a gorgeous, wonderful symphony of alive, alive, alive.

When Steve’s legs give out and he stumbles, Eddie is there. He cushions their fall with his own body and they go down in a tangle of limbs and laughter, lips meeting before they even hit the ground. The crutches go clattering somewhere to the side.

“I did it!” Steve gasps against his mouth, and Eddie can't tell if the sound is more laugh or more sob. “Shit, did you- did you see that? I did it!”

“You did it,” Eddie rumbles, hands in Steve's hair, kissing his lips and nose and eyes and anything he can reach between words. Both their cheeks are wet with tears, but they're good tears, finally good tears, and he can’t tell whose they are anymore. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they’re alive, and here, and together. “Fuck yeah, you did, always knew you would. So strong, so amazing. Love you so much.”

Steve makes another sound, a raw thing so full of emotion it makes Eddie’s heart flutter, and crashes their lips together again, firmer, longer. Eddie sighs as a hesitant tongue coaxes at his lips, opens up, lets him in.

And then Steve groans and pulls back.

“What?” Eddie asks, insides twisting with worry. “Shit, did you hurt yourself? What-”

“‘m fine!” Steve wheezes, glancing up at him with watery eyes. “You just taste like an ashtray, is all.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Eddie grouses while Steve rolls off him, flops onto his back in the grass. “I had like half a cig this morning.”

“Half a cig too much, then,” Steve beams up at him, all glinting teeth and gold-streaked hair in the sunlight, eyes sparkling with mirth and alive, alive, alive. “I win.”

Eddie pouts. “What though? Can't remember agreeing on a prize, this was all fun and-”

One strong, nimble hand tangles in the collar of his shirt, pulls him in.

“Shut up and kiss me, ash breath.”

Eddie has never obeyed an order more gladly in his life.

All my holiday drabbles

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

Here it is! We learn El's parent in this one, and there's a wonderfully healthy dose of Steddie throughout the whole part.

There's a meme on this one, too lol

If you see any typos, no you didn't ^_^

-----

It should not have taken five days to drive from Athens, Tennessee, to Camp Half-Blood in Long Island. Eddie wouldn't be surprised if Chrissy and his bandmates thought he'd died some horrible death while on this retrieval. But Eddie would love to meet the person who can tell Steve and a gaggle of demigod children to hurry up and get to camp already. They spent two days at Hearth and Home just for the pool, and various stops along the way followed that same pattern.

It was, in all honesty, the most relaxed retrieval mission Eddie has ever fucking experienced. Only one monster ever gave them trouble (another harpy--go figure--that Steve dispatched with ease and no injury) while the rest would sniff around and eventually have their eyes glaze over like they'd lost interest or encountered something familiar. They'd then move on, leaving the group to continue their meal in relative peace.

But for as relaxed as Eddie and the kids are, Steve is ramped to the absolute limit. His shoulders remain tense, his leg bounces whenever he sits still too long, his eyes constantly survey their surroundings, and he seems to have placed a distance between himself and Eddie. It hurts to see, especially considering the literal spark between them, but Eddie tells himself it's just until they get to camp and Steve sees for himself that they're safe.

And that moment is getting closer as they hike up Half-Blood Hill, Steve's car left at the foot until Eddie can convince Chiron and Mr. D to let him park it in the camp itself. "That big tree there is where the protective barrier starts," Eddie explains, pointing at Thalia's tree. "It used to be a girl, but there was a whole thing with the Golden Fleece, and long story short, she's running around with Artemis now."

"Can I run around with Artemis?" Max asks, her voice eager as she falls back to keep pace with Steve and Eddie.

Steve snorts, and Eddie notices the way his hand tightens on his bat. His knuckles turn white and the muscles in his forearm straining slightly and Eddie has to look away before his mouth gets too dry. "Maybe when you're older," Steve says, "After you can beat me in a spar."

Max groans, stomping her way back to Lucas with hunched shoulders and a quiet mutter that she won't be winning anytime soon.

They reach the top of the hill then, and Eddie watches as the group slows down. El in particular falls back until she's next to Steve and can grip his hand tightly. Her beanie seems to be squirming, but the movement is so subtle that Eddie thinks he's probably seeing the air ripples from the heat. He hurries to the front of the group and grins at them. "Okay! You ready to enter Camp Half-Blood, AKA the best place ever?" he asks.

"Just get on with it already," Mike says, crossing his arms as Erica nods in agreement.

Eddie, in an incredibly mature move, sticks out his tongue, and he's rewarded with a quiet laugh from Steve. "As I was saying, once you pass by the tree, I'll introduce you to Chiron, the activities director here. After that, we'll get cabin arrangements, measure you for armor and swords, and give a full tour. Of course, I'll be the one showing you around, which means you'll be getting the best possible version of the tour."

He waits for applause, but it never comes, and Eddie pouts at them. "Can't you be more excited? This is, like, the first time I've managed to bring back kids who aren't terrified."

"Oh boy," Dustin says, his voice high and fake, "I can't wait for Eddie to show us around Camp Half-Blood."

"Joke all you like, Henderson, I'm taking it as a compliment," Eddie says, darting forward and pushing down the bill of Dustin's cap. He moves back easily and claps his hands. "Okay! Step on through, please."

The kids all glance back at Steve, and he smiles encouragingly. As a group, they move past the perimeter of the tree until only Steve and El are left standing on the edge. Eddie flashes a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's gonna be great. El and the kids can meet more demigods their age, and you, Stevie, can relax since you won't have any monsters coming after you."

Steve nods and looks at El. "You ready?" he asks. She holds his hand even tighter--and Eddie is starting to worry about Steve's bones here--but nods.

Together, they step over the threshold.

Or, well, Steve does. El is stuck on the other side, Steve's hand still in hers but unable to pull her through. Her shoulders drop, and despite Steve's best efforts, she can't get an inch over the barrier that ripples between them. Resigned, she looks down at their hands, her grip starting to loosen some.

Eddie stares at this scene with wide eyes, and a few things suddenly make sense. No wonder Steve wouldn't say who El's godly parent is. She technically doesn't have one. The odd protectiveness makes a lot of sense now, too. And so does the way monsters would apparently move on like the gaggle of demigods was uninteresting.

"Well," Steve says, breaking Eddie out of his epiphany, "we gave it a shot."

With that, he steps back through the barrier, the rest of the kids quickly follow suit, and Eddie can feel them slipping through his fingers. "Wait!" he shouts, relieved when Steve looks up at him.

He's about to give El permission, to say everything is gonna be fine, to beg on his fucking knees if that will keep Steve--and the kids, of course--from walking away.

This is, of course, when the fucking armored and armed barrier patrol (a tradition that never really faded despite the camp's renewed safety) decides to show up.

Eddie just can't get a fucking break, huh?

-------

The moment arrows, swords, and spears (among other weapons) are aimed at them, Steve shoves the kids behind him. El sticks the closest, practically hugging his back, but he knows she'll pull away if it comes down to a fight. Steve twirls his bat, his eyes narrowed as he takes stock of his potential opponents.

The barrier shimmers between the two groups, a slight haze in his vision, and Eddie stands in the middle, one foot on each side of the barrier, looking a little frazzled. That's when a girl comes forward, her blonde hair pulled in a ponytail, a bow in hand, and her quiver slung over her shoulder. She smiles at Eddie, bright like the sun, and Steve feels a familiar-but-not kind of buzzing under his skin.

"Eddie! You're okay!" she shouts, dashing forward and hugging him tightly.

Steve's throat feels tight as Eddie hugs her back, his grip on the bat straining until he hears the reinforced wood groan and forces himself to loosen up. "Eddie," he says, a huge part of him relieved when Eddie immediately looks at him.

The girl looks between the two of them, and her eyes widen, and she smiles excitedly, and Steve suddenly feels a little better.

"Hello, I'm Chrissy," she says, walking over to stand across the barrier from Steve. "We got an alert that a monster was trying to cross, so we came to offer help. Everything looks fine, though, so come on through."

Steve feels El tug on the back of his shirt as the kids shift nervously. "We're good, actually," Lucas blurts out, unable to handle the silence.

Chrissy blinks, her smile still present but her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "You're...good?" she asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, licking his lips nervously, "I'm sure Camp Half-Blood is fun and all, but we can't stay."

"Why not? You'll be safer here."

Steve doesn't know how to answer that question, and El spares him the effort of trying to by saying, "I can't get through." He wants to spin around and grab her shoulders and ask what she's thinking, but it's El's choice to tell people, no matter how much Steve might disagree with her.

"Oh," Chrissy says, her smile dimming some before she brightens again. "Are you mortal? That's okay, we can just give you permission."

It's the perfect excuse, and Steve is ready to fucking run with it, but El shakes her head. "I'm not mortal," she says.

A heavy silence falls over the group on the other side of the barrier as the demigods understand what she means. "What kind of monster are you?" a boy asks, his hand twitching as though ready to reach for an arrow.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Steve says, a bad feeling forming in his gut. His nerves start buzzing on instinct, crackling and pulling at the clouds just a tiny bit. "We'll leave you alone and go our separate ways. You'll....you'll never see us again." And Steve can't help his voice softening, glancing at Eddie as he says that last part.

Because he wants to see Eddie again. He wants to learn about the literal spark they shared. He wants to know if Eddie's lips are soft or rough. But Steve always puts the kids first. Their safety comes before everything else, even himself.

"Wait! There's no need to go," Eddie says, holding his hands out to both sides but looking at Steve. "El isn't dangerous. We can still give her permission."

"Like Hades we are!" the same boy shouts.

"Jason!" Chrissy says, her tone hard as she whirls around.

Jason looks insulted and confused. "What are you yelling at me for? I'm not the one trying to bring a fucking monster into camp."

"She's not a monster! Stop saying that," Mike shouts, trying to push forward only for Steve to push him right back.

"Oh? Then what is she?" Jason asks.

"Her name is El," Steve says, his voice hard and unforgiving, "and she is my sister."

Several of the campers' eyes widen, and suddenly their bows are loaded and ready to shoot. "You brought two monsters to camp!" a girl shouts, glaring at Eddie.

Steve frowns, trying to control the building anger and wariness. Based on the slowly gathering clouds overhead, it's not working.

"Those things are dangerous," Jason says, his eyes narrowed. "I bet the rest are monsters in disguise, too."

"No!" Eddie shouts, "they got through the barrier."

"Oh? Prove it. Walk through right now."

The kids don't move an inch and neither does Steve. Chrissy turns back to them, an uncomfortable grimace tugging at her lips. "It would really help to diffuse things if you could just step over," she says softly.

"Not without El," Max says, glaring at the group.

"Or Steve," Lucas adds.

Despite everything, Steve can't help a wry smile and a joking, "Gee, thanks for thinking of me," thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Jason sneers, "None of the monsters want to cross."

He pulls his bowstring back a little farther, and the clouds above them start to gather faster, tiny sparks jumping under Steve's hand on the bat. He grits his teeth, trying desperately to not get lost in anger, and takes a deep breath. "Listen, this obviously isn't going to work," he says, looking at Eddie. He smiles apologetically. "Thank you for trying, though. It was...a nice thought."

And then several things happen all at once.

Eddie's eyes widen, desperation seeps into them, and he shouts, "I give El permission to cross the barrier!"

El starts to move around Steve like she wants to talk to Chrissy herself, her beanie squirming obviously.

The rest of the kids behind Steve get caught up in El's movements and try to follow, pushing Steve forward a step and bumping El slightly to the side.

His annoyance flares, and dark clouds stretch above them with a quiet, nearly inaudible rumble of thunder.

Finally, an arrow is loosed from the group of demigods, and its path would have been true if not for the kids pushing Steve. Instead, it shoots El's beanie clear off her head and lands in the grass behind the kids, just barely missing Dustin and Will in the process.

Really, Steve can't be blamed for what happened next. Between El's snakes freaking out and the kids shouting and the arrow in the grass overpowering his vision, he really can't be blamed.

It's only understandable that he loses it, that his tenuous control fucking snaps.

A bellowing crack of thunder above them is the only warning the demigods get before a bolt of lightning strikes the ground right next to them. The sheer force of it creates a whole nearly two feet deep, knocking the demigods back a few feet as more bolts follow in its wake. Each one burns the ground where it strikes, and tiny fires feed on the grass.

Little arches of lightning jump across Steve's arms, his hair fluffing out slightly from the static. His chest is heaving from anger and electricity and the aftermath of so much tension finally breaking free as bolts corral the demigods into a tiny circle, striking all around them to prevent escape.

"Steve," El says, the sound of her grabbing his attention more than her words. But when Steve looks at her and sees the snakes on her head rubbing against each other and tasting the air and trying to stay as close to her scalp as possible, his anger flares again at the reminder of the arrow that could have killed his kids. Not only the arrow, but El's snakes could have hurt them, too. If not for the kids immediately squeezing their eyes shut, a few might be statues right now. Sure, it would wear off in a bit, and Steve is immune anyway since he's related to El, but it's fucking inconvenient and dangerous given the situation.

"Stay back," he growls, his words crackling with the lightning as he turns back to the demigods. They look scared shitless, and Steve hasn't even done anything yet. The only ones who haven't been corralled are Chrissy and Eddie, since neither of them actually did anything.

He steps forward, an arch of lightning stretching between his heel and the ground when he lifts his foot. The nails on his bat spark and glow red, looking nearly as angry as Steve feels. Steve crosses the barrier, feels it wash over him, and stops just on the other side. He smiles at the demigods, feral and unrestrained as a storm, and raises his hand to the sky.

Or he starts to only for his view to be blocked by brown hair in desperate need of a good shampoo and big brown eyes. Steve blinks, a tiny portion of his anger calming if only because he's looking at Eddie. "Move, Eds," he says.

"Stevie," Eddie whispers, his voice nearly drowned out by the rumbling thunder. So Steve pulls it back, forces it to quiet down so he can hear. "C’mon, sweetheart, there's no need to smite them. They've already peed themselves."

"They almost killed my kids," Steve says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What would you do if you were me?"

"Well, I wouldn't look nearly as hot, for one," Eddie jokes, flashing a shaky smile.

"You're already plenty hot," Steve blurts, the shock of the words calming him down a tiny bit more. And, when he hears Lucas and Erica behind him complain as El thanks Will for retrieving her beanie, his anger finally soothes enough for lightning to stop striking the ground. The clouds are still hanging over them, though, and sparks still arch across his arms and through his hair.

Eddie's smile becomes a bit wider. "Seriously, sweetheart, there's no need," he promises. "I already gave El permission to enter. She can cross the barrier. Word will spread in camp that nobody can mess with her without getting their shit rocked by a very powerful son of Zeus. Don't you want to relax? Don't you want the kids to meet others like them? Don't you...don't you want to, you know, spend time together?"

Steve does want all of that. Especially that last one, because he's never been talked down from an unbridled, anger-fueled, lighting strike marathon this easily. Usually, the kids have to let him work through the anger and vent it all before he's back to normal.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus on calming down. When Eddie hesitantly takes his hand, Steve calms down even faster, and the sparks that pass between their palms are harmless. "That's it, Stevie," Eddie whispers as Steve's shoulders relax. "Besides, you can always beat Jason's ass at capture the flag later."

Steve can't help laughing at that, and he opens his eyes to see Eddie's smile. "Looking forward to it," he says, squeezing Eddie's hand. Then he looks over his shoulder at the kids. "Is everyone okay?" he asks.

The kids are all gathered around El, who has secured her beanie over her head. Unfortunately, the arrow made a larger hole than expected, and two of her snakes are poking their heads out, tongues flicking as they taste the air. They aren't strong enough on their own to actually turn anyone to stone, so none of the kids avoid looking at them.

"We are fine," El says with a tiny smile as she steps forward. Steve is about to tell her to be careful when she walks through the barrier without a problem.

The other kids follow, sticking close to El and then orbiting toward Steve and Eddie. "That was awesome!" Dustin shouts, his eyes bright as he looks at the scorch marks that create a circle around the demigods that haven't moved an inch.

"Yes, it was awesome," a voice says, old and wise and belonging to a centaur that has trotted over from the camp gates and comes to a stop before them. "Though, probably not in the way you mean, young one."

"Chiron, hey, how's it going?" Eddie asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifts to stand in front of Steve. "This, uh, was all a misunderstanding, really."

Chiron raises an eyebrow at Eddie, but Steve can see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I see. Is that so, Chrissy?" he asks.

"Yeah, it is," Chrissy says, nodding once as she glances at Jason, "because Jason was trigger-happy and wouldn't let anyone talk."

"I see," Chiron says again, looking back at Steve and the kids behind him. "Well, I look forward to hearing all about it and getting to know our potential campers at the Big House. Over some snacks, perhaps?"

He seems nice enough, and something about Chiron just makes Steve feel confident that nothing will happen to the kids. At least, not for the next hour or so, and that's good enough. Still, he can't help pushing just to see the extent of Chiron's patience. "Even if my sister's mother is a gorgon?" he asks, watching Chiron closely.

"Am I correct in assuming her mother is Medusa?" Chiron asks.

"Yes," El says, answering for Steve as the two snakes poking through rub their heads on Steve's arm. "She's very nice."

Chiron seems to be holding back an amused smile at that, and he nods. "I'm sure," he says, nodding once. "Yes, you are still welcome, my dear. After all, our very own Eddie Munson has vouched for you."

Steve can feel the kids behind him relaxing, and he glances at Eddie to see the relieved smile on his face. "Okay then," he says, looking back at Chiron, "lead the way."

----

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze, @melodymeddler

And now, the quality meme you've all been waiting for

[kvtie444]

°•★ SOLO .2 

A/N: none lol

Summary: reader moves to LA for work and becomes the sturniolos editor, but what happens when she falls for someone unexplected…

Warnings: mentions of drinking/drugs, swearing, smoking, suggestive?

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

It's been a few days since I last set foot in the Sturniolo's house, still haunted by memories of Chris's party. I left his text on opened, unwilling to complicate things or face the reality of what might have transpired - a fleeting moment that lingered in my thoughts. As I scrolled through the comments on their latest video, relief washed over me with the positive feedback on the editing.

Now, here I am, standing outside their house after Nick's call to pick up footage for their upcoming video. I knock on the door and take a step back, idly kicking at small stones on the ground. The door opens after a moment, and the sight before me alone had me drenched - Chris, wet hair, a snug white tee, a chain dangling, grey sweats revealing a hint of his black Calvin Klein boxers at the waistband. He wordlessly holds the door open, allowing me to enter before closing it behind me, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Ascending the stairs, he practically screams, "NICCKKK, Y/NS HEREE" My face scrunches in response. Chris heads to the kitchen, nonchalantly devouring snacks from the pantry fist first. Classy. The atmosphere remains charged with unspoken words.

Summoning my courage, I decide to address the elephant in the room. "Chris, about the other night," I say tentatively, nervously biting at my cuticles. He turns to meet my gaze, chuckling before shutting the pantry door with a box of Lucky Charms in hand. "Dude, just pretend that shit never happened. I was faded as fuck," he laughs, continuing to chew. ‘Dude’, nice.

My attention shifts as Nick descends the stairs, smiling at me. He steps into the living area and looks at Chris, "You can go. Be gross somewhere else, thank you," waving him off. Chris just sticks his tongue out before walking to his room, my eyes trailing after him. "So we did our vlog, and oh my god, you should have seen Matt. He ate a fucking habanero pepper," Nick laughs, and I subconsciously nod, eyes still fixed on Chris. He looks at me for a fleeting second, holding eye contact before disappearing upstairs. I shoot Nick a smile, exhaling a laugh through my nose.

After some more small talk, Nick hands me the SD card, and we decide to grab some food with Matt. Seated in the passenger seat, Nick in the back, we parked after grabbing our food. I was about to take a bite of my burger when my phone rang, interrupting the moment. Sighing, I put my food down, reaching for my phone in my pocket. It was Laura. "Hiya," I answered. "Hey Y/N, I'm in a bit of a rush, but just a reminder, you've got that fresh love shoot tomorrow at 11," she blurted out. My brows furrowed in confusion, "I do?" "Yeah, Chris told me you agreed to it." That little shit. "Oh, yeah, I'll be there," I replied, pinching my nose in stress. We hung up, and I groaned; between editing a video, a last-minute photoshoot, and the chaos, time seemed to slip away. I grabbed my burger, taking a big, stress-relieving bite.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After an entire night of editing, I had to gear up for this shoot. With everything packed and ready, I booked an Uber to the warehouse. Arriving, I spotted around five models, two assistants setting up a white backdrop, and there, on the couch, was Chris himself. He lounged in a Nike tracksuit, sporting sunglasses and a toothpick in his mouth. Who the fuck did he think he was? I sighed, dropping my bag on the floor, and made my way to the snack area for a can of Pepsi.

As I reached for the drink, a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned to face one of the assistants, “Hi hun, shouldn’t you be in the back getting dressed?” she sweetly inquired. Confused, I realized she mistook me for a model. “Oh no I’m not-““she’s not a model” Chris cut me off, appearing behind me, I shot him a death glare. "Shouldn't you be getting changed?" I quipped. He chuckled, "You calling me pretty?" he teased. I rolled my eyes, replying, "No, just knowing you, you'd want to be the centre of attention.”

He took off his glasses, and in a smug move, removed his shirt, revealing more than I bargained for. My eyes trailed up reluctantly, form his v-line and happy trail, only to meet his cocky gaze and messed-up hair. "Chris, what are you-" "Since you're so concerned with my outfit," he started, grabbing a fresh love hoodie and slipping it on, "I'm getting changed." He raised his eyebrows, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. I scoffed and walked off, back to my bag.

Finally, the photoshoot commenced. I followed Chris's directions, and truth be told, the shots looked incredible. I couldn't help but bite my lip as I admired Chris modelling. He approached, leaning over my shoulder to view the final pics on the screen. "Yeah, that's fire," he murmured, briefly squeezing my shoulder before returning to the snacks. I smiled to myself, but my mood took a downturn when I noticed Chris whispering into a model's ear, her hand on his chest. Disheartened, I put my camera back in my bag and walked to the front door, pushing it open and leaning against the railing.

"Y/N, he doesn't even like you. What is your problem?" I scolded myself. I reached into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a pack of Camel Lights, a new one I bought before deciding to quit. Despite my recent success, stress led me to light one up. I took a drag, noticing my lip stain on the end as I exhaled. The door creaked open, and there he was again - Chris. Seriously? I wiped my eyes quickly before turning around. "Do you not care about your lungs?" he smugly remarked, standing next to me and leaning back against the railing. My eyes remained fixed on the LA skyline. "Yeah, let me know how your kidneys are in 10 years," I replied, taking another drag. He chuckled slightly before speaking up. "Toosh." I squinted my eyes at him. "Do you mean 'touché'?" I retorted. A brief silence followed before he grinned and repeated, "Touché." I couldn't help but laugh - not with him, but at him.

"Matt's picking me up if you want a lift; you look hella tired," he added. I shot him a look. Thanks. "Yeah, whatever," I mumbled, putting out the cigarette against the rusty metal railing and flicking it into the distance. Without a word, I walked back inside, gathering my equipment again. I couldn't read him - was this his attempt at being nice right after flirting with half the set? He was a prick, but did I even like him? No. Was he cute? Unfortunately, yes. As much as I hated to admit it, I saw a glimpse of an actual tolerable side when he helped me after I got hurt, and I missed it - I missed something that barely existed.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The car ride back was silent, with Matt occasionally asking me a question here and there, to which I responded with a nonchalant "mhm" or "mm mm." I felt bad for seeming like a bitch to Matt, but I was utterly drained. Nick called Matt post-drive, asking if I wanted to sleep over. Despite yearning for my bed and a good scream-into-a-pillow session, I couldn't bring myself to say no.

Saying yes turned out to be a good decision. Matt, Nick, and I had a great time playing Mario Party on the TV, watching a movie, and making snacks. Eventually, I decided to crash on the sofa, relishing the comfort of having my own space. At 3 am, however, sleep eluded me, and the distant sounds of cars and crickets filled the quiet night.

The door opened, and I glanced up to see Matt rubbing his eyes, smiling to me as he headed to his bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Another set of steps approached, and I looked up again. Lo and behold, it was Christopher Sturniolo. He glanced at me, and then looked away. I turned over, burying my head into the corner of the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position. However, Chris seemed determined to disrupt the peace, loudly opening and slamming the fridge door, and then cracking open a can of what I assumed was Pepsi. I shot him a glare, silently conveying, "Shut the fuck up."

When I looked up, I found him standing close to the sofa, a beer in hand. I mumbled and buried my head in the pillows once again. Suddenly, I felt him ruffle my hair with his hand. "What's with the attitude, sweetheart? “He cooed at me. Shit. I sat up, propping my elbows on the arm of the couch and leaning forward. "Because some people are trying to sleep," I hissed at him. He smirked, his eyes scanning my body. "Is that my shirt?" he asked. I looked down at the graphic tee Nick had given me to sleep in. "No, Nick gave me it," I replied, holding eye contact with him. "Well, it's mine," he retorted, placing his hands at the edge of the couch's arm, leaning in.

"Problem?" I cocked my head at him. He was so close; I could feel his hot breath fanning over my face, sending chills down my body. He shrugged slightly. "Suits you," he replied, moving a hand down to adjust some of my hair over my shoulder, his eyes reading the graphic details of the shirt. He licked his lips, leaning in slightly. Was he drunk? No, I would have seen him come up to grab more drinks. Unable to resist, I leaned in too, our lips now brushing against each other. His eyes fixed on my lips as he moved, mere millimetres away from me, and our lips finally met.

The kiss was hungry, full of passion, and I reluctantly admitted to myself that he was a good kisser - of course he was, he'd definitely been around. His lips tasted like beer as he sighed against my lips. My stomach did flips, and I felt myself growing hotter. Suddenly, the sound of a flushing toilet jolted us apart, wide-eyed. "Shit, Matt," I whisper- yelled, pushing Chris away. The door opened, and Matt, still in a sleepy state, looked at us confused. "Dude, wash your hands," Chris pointed at him with his beer. "Get off my dick," Matt murmured back, walking back into his room. That was too close. Chris took a swig of his beer, moving his hand to my cheek and soothingly rubbing my cheek with his thumb. Maybe he actually was a sweet person deep down. "In a bit," he said, patting my cheek before heading back to his room. Never-fucking-mind.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer

@daddyslilchickenfingers

@mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @sturnphilia @s1urnioloslvr

@mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332

@recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333

@flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess

@poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo

@m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444

@thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf

[tired-teacher-blog]

Late night surprise

Characters : Aizawa/ Fem reader

Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Somnophilia (consensual)/ Oral (fem receiving/ Pussy drunk!Aizawa/ Fingering/ Breast play/ One Shot

Notes : This is something that I've been talking about with my bestie @aizawas-non-right-foot 😍 Banner by : @/cafekitsune

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

Part 2

It has been a while— three weeks and five days to be exact, since you were able to spend a quiet evening with your boyfriend. Your schedules have been extremely hectic lately, and his night shifts have become reoccurring for the past few days, leaving you even less time together.

You miss him a lot, and lately, even the frequent calls and voice mails have become insufficient. You want to spend some quality time with him, cuddled up in bed together while watching a movie, or having a pleasant conversation and catching up with one another over dinner, as opposed to eating alone and going straight to an empty cold bed.

When was the last time you woke up in his arms? And how long has it been since you were.. intimate with one another?

Three weeks and five days, that's how long it's been.

_ "Really! You're coming home early today?" your heart almost leapt with joy when you heard a soft 'yes honey' on the other end of the line.

Finally, you will have the whole night to yourselves.

You run around the house like a maniac, fixing dinner, setting the ambiance and taking a quick shower before slipping into something that seemed to always make him lose his mind.

Your luscious curves are gleaming in the mirror as you observe the sexy night gown barely covering your pantiless bum and falling perfectly over your soft skin, "I'm ready."

You check your phone and sigh with relief as your preparations have been completed on time, only a few more minutes until hearing the door click and seeing his beautiful frame stepping into the apartment.

The anticipated few minutes turned into an hour and then another, your delectable dinner is now nothing but a cold lumpy mush, and your cheerful smile is nowhere to be found.

You plop onto your cold empty bed and reach for your phone again, sighing miserably as your eyes scan his latest text once more :

"I'm so sorry honey but something came up, looks like I'll be home late after all."

You're too exhausted to think straight or even move a muscle, your plans have gone to waste after careful preparations, so you need to get your ass up and clean the dining table before succumbing to sleep, not to mention removing the needless night gown that's making you feel stupid at this point.

You need to get up, but your mind is foggy and your head feels heavy on your fluffy pillow, still, you have to put away the food and get changed first.

You have to..

.. have to..

Something feels warm and, wet? A strange yet familiar sensation is spreading throughout your whole body, but what exactly is it? Last thing you can remember was moping about your ruined plans while struggling to fight off sleep, so what happened after that?

_ "Fuck, I can't believe I had to miss this after being forced into a second shift."

You recognize this voice, this growl, but where is it coming from? You're asleep right? Then it must be a dream..

_ "I'm so sorry for being late princess, so let me make it up to you huh?"

There it is again, that same recognizable voice.

_ "Shouta.." this dream, this sensation, it all feels too realistic.

_ "Yes honey I'm right here."

Your eyes flutter open and your body jerks in surprise as you clearly hear it this time, it's not a dream is it?

_ "Shouta, what are you.. oh God!" you tilt your head back and arch off the bed as you feel it deeper, his warm fat tongue, licking its way into your slick walls.

You are still in a haze, your vision is blurry and your brain is foggy, but your body is reacting on its own. You reach out a shaky hand and grab onto his raven locks, pushing his face deeper against you.

This isn't an unusual occurrence, you can't remember how many times you have awoken to find his lips or fingers latched onto you, and it's a favor that you have eagerly paid back many times in return.

The pleasure your man is giving you seems more intense than usual, it has been a while after all.

_ "Fuck I missed you gorgeous.." his words are mixed with obscene slurping noises and satisfied hums that vibrate into your core, he seems out of it, needy and desperate while lapping up your cute love bud and nibbling on the surrounding swollen lips like a bear clinging to a honey tree.

Your heavy eyes travel downward to steal a glimpse of the man doing wonders for you, and you whimper as you're faced with an arousing sight that almost gets you spasming violently with intense pleasure.

It's exhilarating, your boyfriend is still in his work attire, filthy sweaty and disheveled, and it looks like burying his face between your legs was the first thing he thought of doing after walking into the house.

You can't help gawking at him, propping yourself up on quivering elbows to have a better view of your beloved, and biting down on your lip as a knot starts to form in the pit of your belly.

He is beautiful, with his flushed skin and focused eyes staring back at you, and his soft hair falling perfectly around his face and neck to tickle your sensitive skin with every little move he's making.

His calloused hands release your thighs to slide along your sides, bringing your night gown further up and revealing more of your flesh to him.

_ "You dare fall asleep while wearing this instead of waiting for me? You're a bad girl." his playful words are groaned against your weeping cunt, and your legs instinctively squeeze him tight between them.

_ "Stop talking! Please don't talk with that in your mouth!" your cute little outburst brings a throaty chuckle out of the man who insists on feigning ignorance.

_ "Why's that? Why can't I speak while pleasuring my princess?" his purrs send a shudder deep inside of you.

This bastard knows his effect on you, he loves tormenting you, seeing you helpless underneath him, and he succeeds in making his wish come true every single time.

Your arms give out and your back hits the mattress again, you can no longer see his face but the feeling of his eager mouth is driving you mad.

His hands move under your silky night gown to grope your mounds, thumbs brushing over your perky nipples while his tongue fucks you deep and slow.

You're not going to last much longer at this rate, your heart is pounding harshly in your chest, and your whimpers are getting louder and needier by the second, "keep going! Please! Just a bit more!" your shameless demands are well received, as he humms with delight and keeps on thrusting his tongue deeper within you.

His fingers carry on massaging your soft breasts, kneading your flesh and pinching your perky teats teasingly before one of his large hands runs down your body and rests on your lower belly.

You know what this means, though you're not sure if your body will be able to handle any anymore of his taunting behavior, you've just about reached your limit.

_ "Shouta, I'm so close.."

He retracts his tongue and kisses your clit before rubbing two fingers along your wetness to slowly ease them past your welcoming slit.

Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out of it, your breath gets caught in your throat and your body twists under his brute dominance as his fingers take control.

You're a wreck, shattering a little bit more each second that passes, and he loves it.

His lips kiss along your inner thighs, and his fingers curl up and stroke that one particular sweet spot he knows all too well.

_ "No wait.. wait! It's too.. too much!" you finally find your voice, crying out a warning but only a moment before giving in to a splintering orgasm, shuddering uncontrollably and coating the fingers still moving inside of you before relaxing at last.

_ "That's my girl, you've done a good job sweetheart." he cooes sweetly while trailing a few soft kisses along your sensitive cunt, "so how's my princess feeling?"

_ "Perfect.." you breathe out drowsily, a satisfied smile adorning your face.

He carefully licks you clean, attentive as to not overstimulate you while flicking his tongue up and down on your throbbing clit, "fuck.. what a treat."

You giggle happily and reach out for him to get closer, your blush deepening as you notice his reddening lips and glistening chin, proof of what he has just done for you.

_ "I'm sorry for missing our date love, but I promise to make it up to you tomorrow." he looks apologetic as he speaks, and you can't help the giggles escaping your throat, he is truly adorable.

_ "But I don't want to wait until tomorrow, so how about taking a shower together right now and see what happens?" you request suggestively, sneaking a hand between your bodies and pressing it against his raging stiffness.

_ "Oh I'd love that even more."

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 1

Masterlist |-| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

AO3

Summary: As Frankie reaches the end of her second week at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield, she begins to find her footing among the men of the 100th Bomb Group

Warnings: Excessive alcohol consumption, language

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee

The setting sun cast a golden blanket over Thorpe Abbotts airfield, basking everything in an idyllic, orange glow that was almost beautiful enough to distract from the heady stench of motor oil that lay thick on the air, permeating hair and clothes so thoroughly that anyone who spent even five minutes in the place would carry it with them for the rest of the day.

Frankie Bevan clamped a flashlight tight between her teeth, the narrow beam of light illuminating the underside of the B-17's gun turret as she surveyed it for any cracks or gaps in the glass that could compromise its integrity. The rest of the ground crew had called it a day almost two hours ago, but the Yanks always did prefer to work in the daylight. She was nearing the end of her third year in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and after so many nights spent running the airstrips in the darkness for the RAF, Frankie was well accustomed to toiling away into the night.

Thorpe Abbotts was new, and yet much the same. It was only her second week here, compensating for the Americans' manpower shortages. The job was always the same, no matter where she went or what planes she worked on - checks, fixes, refuelling, over and over again - but thus was the nature of a mechanic's job. What she was not yet quite used to was the Americans themselves. Loud and brash and self-assured, Frankie was sometimes glad they worked different hours.

Taking note of a few cracks in the glass panelling, she reached up to swipe the torch from her mouth, offering a satisfied nod as she completed her checks for the night. All that was left was to pin her list of concerns up on the board inside the mechanics' Nissen hut, and then it was off to the pub for her.

Once she changed out of her oil-stained coveralls, that was.

"They're working you like a dog down there on the strip," Georgina, one of Frankie's bunkmates, pointed out, flipping nonchalantly through a magazine as she lounged on her bed.

"Someone's gotta do it," She shrugged, kicking off her coveralls as she rummaged in the shared wardrobe for the correct service uniform. "Some of the mechanics they've brought over are practically kids, not sure I'd trust 'em to fix my plane if I was going up there."

"You'd better show 'em what for, then," George smiled, glancing over as Frankie finished buttoning up her blouse, reaching for the navy blue jacket.

"You coming for drinks?"

"Uh, nah - I'll go tomorrow. Sandra thinks we'll be starting early tomorrow so I wanna get a decent night's sleep."

"Ooh, luxury," Frankie teased, shimmying her shoulders as she made her way to the door of the hut. "Alright, see you later."

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The pub was crammed from door to door as she forced her way inside, the sound of chattering overpowering the music blaring from a radio in the corner. The American invasion of Thorpe Abbotts had well and truly been successful, scarcely a flash of RAF blue visible amongst the sea of khaki as Frankie burrowed her way through the crowds towards the bar.

"Pint of Guinness, please," She called over the din, the bartender offering a friendly nod of affirmation as she felt the crowd behind her push her body further into the edge of the bar.

"There y'are, love," The man nodded, placing the pint glass in front of her as she smiled her thanks, foam lining her top lip as she took her first sip. Frankie barely had time to wipe it away, turning to take a step back from the bar, before another body collided with hers. She gasped as the beer she had so looked forward to sloshed over the rim of the glass, pooling on the floor and staining the front of her uniform, as the other man's drink did the same.

"Woah, careful there!" The man cried, flicking a few stray droplets of spilt beer from his hand onto the floor. A deep frown creased her features as she peered up at him. The soldier was so tall that the tip of her head didn't quite pass his shoulder, and yet the irritation in her expression was so palpable that he took a full step back.

"Oh, that was my fault, was it?" Frankie tutted.

"Well, sweetheart, maybe if you'd been looking where you were going-"

"Maybe if you bloody Yanks gave us some room to breathe in here we wouldn't have a problem!"

There was an easy smile on the man's face that struck her as distinctly annoying. Discarding his now almost empty glass on the bar, the man put up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Look. We're not gonna agree on this, so what d'ya say we settle this with a little friendly competition?"

She raised a brow. "What sort of competition?"

"Uh... how 'bout a drinking contest?"

Frankie let out a guffaw so forceful that the man's confident smile disappeared, and a few nearby airmen turned to watch the scene unfold. "Y'know what? Yeah. You're on."

With a nod, he turned away, marching towards the closest table. "Alright boys, gimme some space, I got a contest to win against half-pint over here."

She approached the table, sitting down opposite the soldier, smirking at his arrogance. The airmen he had kicked out of their seats were lingering to watch the spectacle unfold, and it was clear their bets were on her opponent.

"Now," He sighed, taking a seat. "In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I oughta introduce myself. John Egan," He said, reaching a hand across the table.

"Frances Bevan. Frankie," She nodded, shaking his hand.

Egan nodded. "So, normal rules apply. No spilling, no vomiting, gotta drain the glass. Still wanna do this?"

Frankie nodded firmly. "I'd never pass up such a wonderful opportunity to humble you Yanks," She grinned.

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Egan was turning red, his smug smile long since vanished, the motion of his arm slowing as he reached for the next shot glass, glancing across at her with a slightly nauseated expression. The crowd surrounding them had long since grown since they had begun, although how long ago that was she couldn't quite remember. The huge pile of empty shot glasses in the centre of the table did nothing to jog her memory.

"Oh, come on, Egan, you've gotta do better than that," Frankie teased, reaching forward and downing her next shot. In fairness, she too was beginning to feel light-headed, but it never showed on her face, her demeanour as cool and collected as it had been when she first sat down.

"I thought... I thought this would be easy," John complained, grimacing as he brought the next glass to his lips. "You're so small, where are you storing all this liquor?"

"I'm British - pretty sure it's in our bloodstream," She teased. Egan's eyes narrowed as he weakly upturned the contents of his glass into his mouth, screwing up his face as the liquid ran down his throat.

"I really like her," John admitted, letting out a long sigh as he drew a hand over his eyes. A few of the airmen laughed, clapping him over the shoulders.

"I think we're done here," Frankie chuckled.

"You forfeit?" He asked hopefully.

"No, I'm saying you're about to. That or you're gonna throw up - either way, I win."

"Nuh-uh," Egan shook his head. "Not gonna happen," He fought to suppress a burp, and the room seemed to brace itself for the inevitable vomit that would follow, letting out a collective sigh of relief when he swallowed his nausea back down. "...Yeah. Ok."

She clapped, throwing up her hands in victory as a couple of the men standing behind her cheered. "Well, it's been a real pleasure doing business with you Major," Frankie chuckled, fighting through the splitting headache that was growing in her temples as she rose from her seat, offering him a hand to help him stand.

John batted her away, but stumbled as he got up, one of his friends pressing a firm hand on his back to keep him upright. She smiled. "I'll help you get him back since it's my fault. Gotta get back to the huts anyway."

The airman accepted, each of them slinging one of Egan's arms around their shoulders as he tilted haphazardly over to one side, struggling to prop himself up against her due to her height. Trailing towards the door, a few of the men let out celebratory whoops at her as she passed, praising her victory.

"Thanks for the night, gents - I'm here all war," Frankie called over her shoulders, a cheer erupting from the crowd as they dragged Egan sideways out of the door.

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It was growing difficult to see as they marched John back to the huts, the street lights growing more and more sparse the closer they got to the airfield. "You gotta teach me how to do that," He slurred, tilting his head down towards her, the smell of liquor thick on his breath.

"You gotta get more practice in - you Americans with your 'no alcohol until you're 21' rule never stood a chance, we've just been in the game longer."

"Ah," He nodded, pausing for a moment. "Hey, why'd you call yourself Frankie?"

"Because Frances is a terrible name," She scoffed.

"Can I call you Fran?"

"Only if you want to die."

"Fair enough."

As they reached the end of the row of men's huts, she shrugged his arm off of her shoulders, relinquishing custody of John to the other airman, who thanked her for her help.

"See ya 'round, Shortcake!" Egan called as they trailed away, grinning proudly to himself at the nickname. Frankie scoffed, rolling her eyes and massaging her temples as her headache steadily worsened.

"You look like shit," George whispered as she wandered back into their hut. She had rolled her hair up into pin curls, protected beneath a headscarf, and was reading a copy of Wuthering Heights in the dim light of her bedside lamp.

"Got into a drinking contest with one of the Americans," She shrugged, tossing her beer-stained blouse and jacket into a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed, a reminder to wash them tomorrow.

"Did you win?"

"Of course."

"Shh!" One of the other women hissed from the opposite end of the room, shrouded in the darkness. Frankie pulled a face at her scolding, dragging a brush through the knots in her dark brown hair as George stifled a laugh, discarding her book and turning off the light once her friend had changed and gotten into bed.

It was silent for a while as she lay beneath the blankets, staring up at what would have been the ceiling if not for the complete absence of light. Her alcohol-induced headache thrummed behind her eyes, a constant, dull pain keeping her from sleep.

"George?" She whispered.

"What?"

"Do you have an aspirin?"

The sound of quiet rummaging was audible in the stillness of the hut, and she struggled to suppress a laugh as she felt the tube smack her in the face, a result of Georgina tossing it blindly in the darkness.

"Thank you," She giggled, trying not to gag as she took the pills dry, lying back and waiting for the pain to subside as she thought back on the night's events.

I'm not that short.

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The blinding morning sun was unwelcome the next day as Frankie made her way to the airfield from her hut, bike resting against her hip as she made a momentary stop to fix her hair for the day ahead, hair tie held between her teeth as she scooped it into a ponytail. Most of the women she shared the Nissen hut with had left over an hour ago, hurrying to the flight tower in anticipation of the arrival of yet more American pilots, but her job didn't begin until after the planes landed, so fortunately for her, she had been afforded a little more sleep, her headache now more or less dissipated.

A loud honking startled her, the hair tie slipping from her teeth and falling to the floor. As she bent to pick it up, a jeep rolled to a stop in front of her, the horn parping once more.

"Fuck's sake, what?" Frankie muttered, glancing up to see the cheery grin of Major John Egan smiling down at her.

"Mornin'."

"Are you even fit to drive after last night?"

"Fifty-fifty. Hop in, throw your bike in the back."

She frowned as she noticed the pile of bikes already forming in the back of the car, but stacked her on top all the same, sliding into the passenger seat beside him. "Starting a collection?"

"Won them in a bet, night before last. Got one for me and my buddy Buck, he's arriving today."

"Is that Major Cleven?" She asked.

"Sure is," John nodded as the engine roared to life, taking them sailing along the road towards the airstrip, the wind ruining her hair before she even had a chance to finish it.

"So..." He began, swerving slightly to dodge a few maintenance workers on bikes. "Where ya from, Frankie?"

"Stratford."

"I... do not know where that is."

"I didn't expect you to," She chuckled. "Grew up with my dad working his garage, that's what got me into it. Always preferred planes to cars, though."

"You and me both," John nodded, slowing as they neared the landing strip. Up ahead, the flight crew were beginning to disembark, and Frankie's eyes narrowed as she noticed one of the airmen carrying a large dog.

"If they let that dog shit in the plane, I'm not cleaning it up," She stated. "You've heard me say it, that's on the record now."

"Yes ma'am," Egan affirmed, pulling to a stop, a grin spreading across his face as he got close enough to recognise his friends.

As he clambered out of the car, stepping forward to greet his comrades, she climbed out of her seat, wandering around the back of the jeep to disentangle her bike from the pile, tugging it free as the sounds of wind and aeroplane engines overpowered the men's voices.

"Oh, and, uh - This is Frankie Bevan," John called, guiding Cleven towards her, speaking louder so that she could hear. She raised her hand in a somewhat awkward wave, almost dropping her bike on her foot as she hauled it off the back of the jeep. "Best damn mechanic we've got, she's holdin' us together, that's for sure."

"Ma'am," Cleven greeted her with a tilt of his cap.

"He's never seen me work," Frankie shook her head, stepping forward to shake Cleven's hand. "We only met yesterday, he's just being nice in the hopes I won't tell you about how I drank him under the table last night."

John scoffed. "That is not what-" She raised a brow and he stuttered. "Yeah, that - that did happen."

Cleven laughed, squeezing Egan's shoulder. "Well, I'm sure glad he's had someone to keep him humble before I got here. Thank you for your work, ma'am, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon."

She nodded, grinning at Egan's embarrassment. "How was your flight?"

"Smooth sailin', not sure there'll be anything to fix up this time."

A soldier she had heard John greet as Demarco spoke up from where he was stood, scratching his dog's stomach. "The dog dropped a deuce in the cockpit."

Clicking her fingers, she pointed to Egan. "She's not doing that!" He called, craning his head over his shoulder as Demarco put his hands up in surrender.

"Well, that works wonders," Frankie chuckled, lifting her leg to straddle the seat of her bike. "Now, if all you gents have planned is standing around, I've got work to do."

"Bye Shortcake," John grinned as she pedalled the bicycle into motion, ringing the bell and offering up a middle finger as she left. He chuckled, feeling Cleven clap him over the shoulder again.

"She's interesting... nice," His friend began. "Bucky, I know you're sick of Marge tryna set you up, but she is definitely-"

"She's definitely my friend, Buck. Besides, I could never date a woman with a higher alcohol tolerance than me. That's just embarrassing."

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The wind whipped her hair this way and that as Frankie hammered at the pedals, gaining speed faster and faster with each second until the rolling fields beyond the airstrip were little more than a green blur. She'd always loved to cycle, preferably as fast as she possibly could. Her father used to say she should try racing, but his ambition curtailed rather when she got in trouble for almost taking out a couple of tourists outside Shakespeare's birthplace on her way home from school. Besides, she'd never quite had the discipline for sports.

Her breaks squeaked noisily as she rolled to a stop outside the mechanics' Nissen hut, stationed just beyond the main runway. They had been given a single hut for all of their operations, much to the chagrin of many. The back end was an orderly pile of spare parts - buckets of rivets, piles of sheet metal - but someone had supplied them with a table and chairs, and the recent addition of a gas stove and kettle had proved a huge hit.

Ken Lemmons was sat at the table as she wandered in, glancing at the corkboard by the door where she and the others posted notice of anything in need of urgent repair.

"A couple of the guys replaced the glass in the gun turrets earlier - thanks for the shout," Lemmons spoke up.

"Ah, good," Frankie nodded, taking a seat opposite him. As much as she bemoaned her younger, American co-workers, she had grown fond of Ken. He was sipping a cup of coffee, and by the look on his face, he was not enjoying it. She tossed the paper bag containing her lunch onto the table, retrieving a cucumber sandwich - meagre subsistence, and a sight that made the boy frown.

"I think I'd actually murder someone for some Hershey's right about now," He remarked, grimacing as he took another sip of coffee.

"Hey, we make do with what we've got," She shrugged, attempting to devour the sandwich before the cucumber could soak through the thin slices of bread. "I know one of the girls in the Land Army - I darn her jumpers in exchange for a bit of her extra cheese ration."

Lemmons chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I miss good chocolate. I can't get used to... Cad-berry's?"

"Oh, that's sacrilege," She laughed, tossing a slice of cucumber at him, which stuck to the breast pocket of his coveralls. "If you'd come a couple years ago when they were still making Dairy Milk you'd've thought you'd died and gone to heaven."

"I'll believe it when I see it," He grinned, plucking the slice off of his clothes. There was a pause before he spoke again. "One of the fellas says they're actually taking off later."

Frankie nodded, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she spoke around her food. "Oh yeah? This gonna be your first proper go at it?"

"Yeah..." Lemmons admitted, looking momentarily nervous. "You?"

She snorted back a laugh. "Nah. I've been in the WAAF nearly four years - moved around a bit, but whether it's Attlebridge or Docking or Thorpe Abbotts, it's all the same gig. You stick with me when the planes start coming back down and you'll be fine."

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a smile. "You're gonna babysit me?"

Frankie grinned, standing up to reach across the table and ruffle his curls. "With a cute little face like yours, who could help it?" She teased, laughing as he batted her away.

"Get off, I'm serious," Lemmons chuckled, but the smile never faded from his expression.

Ken's buddy hadn't been wrong, per se, but his fabled mission had come not hours, but days later, with a hammering knock on the door to her hut, the women stirring from their sleep in a wave of disgruntled moans.

"What time is it?" Frankie whined as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, resisting the urge to burrow her head beneath the pillow and block out the relentless knocking outside.

"Four thirty," George groaned, frowning vindictively at her watch as she put it on, as if time itself had caused her personal grievance.

"They're flying today, get ready!" A young male voice bellowed from the other side of the door, clearly too shy to bare his face to a room of half-dressed, irritated women.

"Fuck me, I'm coming," She muttered, brushing her hair with one hand as she buttoned up the front of her coveralls with the other.

"Spot me! How's my lipstick?" George called, and Frankie leant across the bed that separated them to wipe a stray smudge of red away with her thumb.

"All good."

"Right," Her bunkmate huffed. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"See you later," Frankie affirmed.

"I'll join you for drinks this time if all goes well!" George called over her shoulder as she scurried towards the door.

"I'll hold you to that!" She replied, smiling as she laced up her boots.

The planes left and returned in mere hours, but the in-between had felt never-ending as the ground crew waited in tense anticipation to see how many would return and in what state. Frankie had sent Egan away to the flight tower after his nervous hovering had started to get on her nerves, and she had since spent the last half-hour sitting in the grass beside the runway making daisy chains with a few of the local children as a way to pass the time.

"Frankie! They're comin' in!" She heard Lemmons yell from across the airstrip. Hurriedly sending the children back to their parents as the sound of plane engines grew steadily louder overhead, she scrambled to her feet, grass stains streaking the knees of her coveralls as she jogged over, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as the planes began to descend towards them.

"...10, 11, 12..." Frankie muttered, coming to the slow realisation that many of the men they'd sent away that morning had not returned. But that loss did not negate the importance of the work they had to do now. "Ok, let's go," She patted Lemmons on the shoulder, and they reached for the bikes they had discarded on the ground nearby, pedalling hard towards the landing strip.

From the second they arrived, she was surveying the damage, scanning the planes for the areas that would need the most attention. It was impossible to pick just one.

"There's a reason we go at night," She muttered, so softly no one else could hear over the din of shouts and dying engines. The mechanics weren't emergency staff, but she'd seen a fair few planes come in either on fire, half-collapsed or both over the years, enough to learn it was best to get in as soon as possible.

"Shit," Lemmons huffed beside her, staring up at a huge, jagged hole in the metal of one of the plane's wings.

"Send a couple of the boys back to the hut - tell them to bring a car back with all the sheet metal they can put in it. Oh - and get me a welder!" She called to him, and the young man began barking orders at the other mechanics, the crew erupting to life around the plane as they began to fix the mess that had returned.

"Frankie!" Egan's voice rang from down below as she climbed up onto the top of the plane, marking out the areas of the body that needed replacing. She looked down at him as he yelled again. "You need anything?"

"Nope, we're good here!" Frankie replied, holding up a thumbs-up in case the wind drowned out her voice. Looking down at the work to do below her, it was as if she could map out every fix in her mind, envision every action in order, play it out in her head until the beast was as good as new. She smiled to herself. "This is what I do."