#plus the stained glass sun.............

[clonerightsenthusiast]

truly obsessed with the way Adam Pollina drew Warren's wings here

(from Angel: Revelations, 2008)

[waldau-archived]

I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like

"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"

whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this prompt was really cute!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?

you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.

you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.

there’s none of that here, in this moment.

you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.

it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.

you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.

a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.

a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.

“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”

so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”

“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”

one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”

“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.

“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.

“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”

you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.

“cheol, let me in.”

“not until you tell me the password.”

“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”

he giggles. “close.”

you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”

he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.

rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.

you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.

it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.

it’s a mess, to say the least.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.

you shake your head but no words come out.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”

“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”

“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.

you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.

you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”

“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”

“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”

but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.

seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”

“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.

“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.

“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.

“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.

“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.

that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.

you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.

seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”

“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”

seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.

“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”

“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”

“so, a bad week?”

“more than one.”

“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”

you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”

“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”

“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”

“hey!”

“also, why were you baking in the first place?”

“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.

“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”

seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[urhoneycombwitch]

shrine of your lights

🍯 honey flavour: edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one? 

🐝 the bees: FWB!Eddie x reader 

wc: 4.8k

content warnings: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all. 

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing. 

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out. 

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath. 

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin. 

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance. 

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears. 

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts. 

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera. 

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place. 

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson. 

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him. 

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business. 

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention. 

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard. 

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby. 

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.” 

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.  

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache. 

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons). 

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass. 

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look. 

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes. 

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack. 

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up. 

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot. 

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space. 

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side. 

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm. 

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks. 

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

1875 hacienda style home in Lamy, NM. I can't believe it's that old! The 3bd, 4ba home has a pending sale for $1.2M. It looks like a motel, doesn't it?

Enter a large entrance hall.

Lovely fireplace in the living room.

The home has lots of interesting details.

Both of these details are in the living room.

Brightly pained niche, too.

Chippy stained glass doors open to a bath. Note the interesting ceiling.

There's another sitting room and fireplace in here, plus a dining area.

Lovely dining space has a built-in adobe banquette, and a beautifully detailed ceiling.

Here's a beautiful hand painted tile picture.

The bright kitchen is full of tile details. Cute island houses the dishwasher.

The primary bedroom is gigantic with a sitting area, fireplace, and room to spare.

Walk-in closet/dressing room.

Very large bath with lovely black accents, including the cute vintage tub and sink vanities. A double shower with glass block is in the corner.

This bedroom is a large size and features a window ledge and built-in shelf.

The baths are so roomy. Love the turquoise wood and the bowl sink, plus the nice tile shower and the cement counter.

None of the bedrooms are small and they're so full of light.

This bath has gorgeous tile.

And, this room is being used as an art studio. It's so neat, though.

Each bath is so different and so beautiful. Isn't that unusual, a tiled vanity with doors and drawers.

Lovely sun room.

Outdoor covered porch with a fireplace.

The yard is very large.

The lot measures 2.18 acres. Wow, in the 1800s when this was built, it must've really been no-man's land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/5-La-Otra-Vanda-B-Lamy-NM-87540/71192710_zpid/?

[dandelions-143]

Secrets (finale)

Secrets 1 - 4 found here: Hyunjins Masterlist

All other members: Masterlist

Pairing: Non-Idol Hyunjin x Plus size/Mid size fem reader

Word Count: 2,700

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content, Strong language, Emotional Intensity

Summary: Hyunjin reenters your life, this time on your terms. With a heart still mending, you agree to a second meeting. But the question lingers—has the man you love truly changed?

A/N: as of right now this will be the final installment of Secrets. You may possibly get to see these two in other members stories that will be posted later. I really hope you enjoyed this story. It was very fun and challenging to write! Also I will be pausing any other posts of the bad boy series until October is over, due to Kinktober coming up! Stay tuned for more!

Two weeks had elapsed since that pivotal conversation in your mother's lush garden. Hyunjin had caught only fleeting glimpses of you as he concluded his business with your father. These brief encounters—a passing glance in the hallway, a distant figure in the garden—only intensified his longing. With each passing day, the weight of your absence grew heavier, and the looming departure tomorrow evening felt like an impending doom.

Hyunjin found himself in the spare bedroom of his temporary apartment, a space he'd leased for the month but which now felt suffocating with memories and unfulfilled hopes. Before him stood an easel, supporting a canvas awash with vibrant hues. His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled slightly, leaving smears of paint across his palms and fingers. The portrait taking shape on the canvas was unmistakably you, though rendered in hazy, dreamlike strokes—a reflection of his current state of mind.

As he gazed at the painting, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, emphasizing his solitude. You had always been a constant presence in his thoughts, a guiding star in his universe. But now, faced with the very real possibility of losing you forever, those thoughts had transformed into an all-consuming tempest. Every waking moment was filled with your image, your voice, your touch—memories that both comforted and tormented him. Even in sleep, he found no respite, his dreams a kaleidoscope of shared moments and imagined futures.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice echoing in the empty apartment. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the scattered art supplies and half-finished canvases. Hyunjin's eyes darted to his phone for the hundredth time that day, willing it to light up with your name. The sinking feeling in his gut grew heavier with each passing minute, whispering that he had lost you forever.

He stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. His fingers ran through his hair, leaving it disheveled as he paced the room. The wooden floorboards creaked under his restless steps, a rhythmic accompaniment to his racing thoughts. The painting of you on the easel seemed to mock him, your eyes following his movements, a constant reminder of what he might have lost. Hyunjin's gaze kept returning to his phone, silently pleading for it to ring, to show any sign of your name on the screen.

Suddenly, the silence shattered like glass. The shrill ring of his phone cut through the air, sending Hyunjin's heart leaping into his throat. He lunged for the device, nearly knocking over a cup of paint-stained water in his haste. His hands trembled as he picked up the phone, fingers slipping on the smooth surface. Not bothering to check the caller ID, he answered without hesitation, his voice breathless. "Hello."

He tried to calm his racing heart, acutely aware of how loud his breathing sounded in the quiet room. There was a brief pause, the silence on the other end stretching for what felt like an eternity. Then, your voice came through the speaker, soft and hesitant, sending a shiver down his spine. "Hyunjin... I've been thinking about everything." His breath caught in his throat, his grip tightening on the phone until his knuckles turned white. He waited for you to continue, hardly daring to breathe. "Can we meet? I think we need to talk face to face."

Hyunjin's heart raced, pounding so hard he was sure you could hear it through the phone. He replied, his voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, of course. Where do you want to meet?" He held his breath, the anticipation of seeing you face to face, of finally having the chance to talk things through, was almost unbearable. He could hear the nervousness in your voice as you replied, the slight tremor matching his own internal turmoil. "I'm actually on my way to the address you gave me right now. I should be there in ten."

His eyes widened in shock, darting around the cluttered space of his apartment. Paint supplies were strewn about haphazardly, evidence of his restless attempts to capture his emotions on canvas. Half-finished paintings leaned against walls, their subjects a blur of colors and shapes. The air was thick with the acrid scent of turpentine, mingling with the earthy smell of oil paints. He quickly surveyed the chaos, his heart racing at the thought of you seeing his living space in such disarray. With only minutes to spare, Hyunjin began a frantic attempt to tidy up, his mind torn between the urgency of cleaning and the anticipation of your arrival. He moved in a whirlwind, shoving supplies into drawers and closets, his hands leaving smears of paint on every surface he touched.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah... I'll be here. My apartment is 224B," he said, biting his bottom lip as he rushed around to clean up as much as he could. His heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation of your arrival making his hands tremble slightly. "See you soon," you said before hanging up. Hyunjin's heart raced as he ended the call, his eyes darting around the cluttered room. He had mere minutes to make the space presentable before you arrived.

With frantic energy, he began shoving art supplies into drawers and closets, his mind a whirlwind of anticipation and nervousness. Paint-stained rags disappeared into a nearby hamper, and half-finished canvases were hastily propped against the wall, their still-wet surfaces gleaming in the afternoon light. The scent of turpentine hung heavy in the air, a testament to his recent artistic frenzy.

As he heard a soft knock at the door, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation that could change everything. The sound seemed to echo through the apartment, making his pulse quicken even more.

That's when he remembered the paint on his hands. "Shit," he mumbled, his eyes widening in panic. He dashed to the kitchen sink, nearly tripping over a stray easel in his haste. "Coming!" he yelled, his voice slightly strained as he scrubbed his large hands vigorously under the running water. The cool liquid mixed with the vibrant colors, creating a swirling rainbow in the sink. He managed to get most—but not all—of the paint off, leaving faint traces of blue and green under his nails.

Hyunjin ran his wet hands through his black messy hair, hoping to tame it a bit. Droplets of water clung to the strands, giving him a slightly disheveled but endearing look. He quickly dried his hands on a nearby towel, leaving colorful smudges on the fabric. Then he stepped to the door, taking one last deep breath to compose himself before opening it smoothly.

As the door swung open, Hyunjin's breath caught in his throat. There you stood, your eyes meeting his with a mix of uncertainty and determination. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence. Your familiar scent wafted towards him, stirring memories of shared moments and whispered promises. Hyunjin stepped back, gesturing for you to enter, his chest tightening at the sight of you. "Come in," he said, his voice softer than he intended, betraying the emotions swirling within him.

You stepped inside onto the rug and took off your shoes, leaving them right next to Hyunjin's. The simple sight of your shoes beside his made your heart squeeze a bit, a physical representation of the closeness you once shared. The apartment was homey, a bit messy but you liked it. The warmth of the space enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air outside.

Then you began to notice things... mainly how the apartment was decorated. Your eyes scanned the small yet modern kitchen, taking in the sleek appliances and the soft, warm lighting. The countertops were cluttered with various art supplies, evidence of Hyunjin's recent creative burst. A half-empty mug of coffee sat on the island. The whole scene felt intimately familiar, as if you were stepping into a dream you'd had countless times before.

Your gaze swept across the open living room, taking in the modern furniture adorned in comforting beiges and deep browns. "Hyunjin..." you began, words momentarily failing you. The apartment's decor mirrored exactly what you'd once described as your vision for a shared living space—a conversation you'd had when discussing plans to move in together.

You turned to him, your eyes brimming with a complex mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of hope that you couldn't quite suppress. The familiar layout and color scheme stirred vivid memories of shared dreams and plans, making your heart flutter erratically in your chest. Every detail, from the soft beige walls to the strategically placed artwork, echoed conversations you'd had about your ideal living space. You wondered, with a mixture of awe and trepidation, if this was mere coincidence or a deliberate, painstaking choice on Hyunjin's part. As your gaze met his, words failed you, the weight of unspoken questions hanging heavily between you, almost tangible in the charged air.

Hyunjin shrugged slightly, a knowing smile playing on his plump lips, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. "I couldn't help myself," he admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to be surrounded by you, by our dreams... I guess it was my way of holding onto hope." Your eyes widened, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across your face—surprise, tenderness, and a surge of affection you couldn't quite contain. The realization that Hyunjin had gone to such lengths to recreate your shared vision touched something deep within you, melting away some of the ice that had formed around your heart. Taking a hesitant step closer, you spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Hyunjin, I've been thinking a lot about you... about us..." You shook your head, struggling to find the right words to express the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

Hyunjin's eyes softened as he watched you struggle for words, his gaze filled with patience and understanding. He moved closer, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I understand," he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper, the softness of his tone wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. "Take your time. I'm here to listen, for as long as you need." His familiar scent enveloped you unleashing a flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm you. Stolen kisses in hidden corners, lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, shared laughter over inside jokes—each memory washed over you, reminding you of the depth of your connection. You took a deep, shaky breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your words. "I've realized something important during our time apart, Hyunjin. Despite everything that's happened, despite all the pain and confusion, my feelings for you haven't changed. They've only grown stronger, more certain. I miss you, Hyunjin. I miss us—the way we were, the way we could be."

You watched as Hyunjin's handsome face transformed, lighting up with a potent mix of relief, hope, and unbridled joy. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened visibly, brimming with unshed tears that made them glisten in the soft light of the apartment. A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, slowly spreading until it illuminated his entire face. He reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid you might disappear if he moved too quickly. His hands enveloped yours, his touch sending a familiar warmth coursing through your body, igniting every nerve ending. His fingers, slightly calloused from his art, intertwined with yours, fitting perfectly as they always had. "I've missed you too," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, cracking slightly on the last word. "More than you could ever know. Every day without you has been... incomplete. You're the missing piece, Y/N. You always have been." The raw honesty in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes, made your heart swell with a renewed sense of hope and possibility.

You gazed up at Hyunjin, your eyes meticulously tracing his features as if rediscovering them for the first time. The warmth of his hands, still bearing faint traces of vibrant paint, served as a tangible reminder of the passion he poured into his art. An invisible, magnetic force seemed to draw you closer, the familiar connection between you intensifying with each passing second. The air around you felt charged, crackling with unspoken emotions and shared memories. "Hyunjin," you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling slightly with the weight of your words, "I've lost a lot of trust, but... it can be rebuilt. I want to try."

Hyunjin's eyes widened, so many emotions flickering in their depths - hope, determination, and a hint of vulnerability. He gently squeezed your hands, his long fingers intertwining with yours, creating a perfect fit. His voice was soft yet resolute, carrying the weight of his sincerity. "I understand completely, and I swear I'll do whatever it takes to rebuild that trust. We can take it slow, day by day, moment by moment if that's what you need." His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense, as he continued, "I want to prove to you that you can trust me again, that we can make this work. I'm committed to us, to you, with every fiber of my being."

His words rang with undeniable sincerity, each syllable resonating with the depth of his feelings. You found yourself believing everything he was saying, your heart softening despite your best efforts to remain guarded. Yet, the way he looked at you made your pulse quicken, sending a rush of warmth through your body. Hyunjin's deep brown eyes, flecked with gold in the soft light, kept darting to your lips, lingering there before meeting your gaze again. His tongue would occasionally sweep across his own plump lips, moistening them and making them appear irresistibly enticing. The gesture, probably unconscious on his part, sent a shiver down your spine. You stepped away from him, trying desperately to keep your composure. You'd just agreed to take things slow, to rebuild trust gradually, but your body clearly had other ideas, yearning for his touch.

Hyunjin noticed your hesitation immediately, his artist's eye attuned to even the slightest change in your demeanor. He mirrored your action, taking a step back to respect your need for space. His hand ran through his hair, tousling the dark strands - a gesture you recognized as a sign of his own nervousness. It was oddly comforting to see that he was just as affected by your proximity as you were by his. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. We can take this as slow as you need. Your comfort, your trust - they're the most important things to me right now." His words were genuine, laced with care and understanding. But despite the physical distance between you, the tension remained palpable - electric and alive. It was a testament to the deep, unbreakable connection you shared, a bond that had weathered storms and now stood on the precipice of renewal.

He ran his long fingers through his messy hair, not doing much to keep it out of his eyes. He looked tense but so were you. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.. I’m just trying to..” you didn’t continue your sentence because Hyunjin was suddenly in front of you his lean body pressed to yours. His warm breath fanned across your face, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The air between you crackled with electric tension, your bodies drawn together like magnets. Despite your resolve to take things slow, you found yourself leaning in, your lips mere inches from his.

"I'm sorry, I just need—" Hyunjin began, his voice husky with desire, but you silenced him with a searing kiss. Your lips crashed against his, igniting a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface for far too long. The kiss was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as Hyunjin's arms instinctively encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against yours with a passion that left you breathless. You could taste the faint hint of coffee on his tongue as it tangled with yours, exploring and rediscovering. The familiar scent of his cologne—a heady mix of sandalwood and citrus—enveloped you, evoking memories of passionate nights spent tangled in bed.

As the kiss deepened, Hyunjin's hands began to roam, his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. They traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers coursing through you, before settling on your hips, gripping them firmly. You melted into his embrace, your body responding to his touch as if no time had passed, as if you were made for each other.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Hyunjin's mouth left yours, blazing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and you gasped, your fingers threading through his silky hair, holding him close. "God, Y/N," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, "you feel so incredible... I've missed your taste, your scent, everything about you."

With gentle yet insistent pressure, Hyunjin guided you backward until your lower back met the cool edge of the counter. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he settled you on the countertop. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against you.

The familiar spark between you erupted into a roaring inferno, consuming all thoughts of taking things slow. Hyunjin's hands roamed your body with reverence, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour. His touch was both familiar and exhilarating, as if he was rediscovering a favorite piece of art, committing every detail to memory.

You arched into him as his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. Each touch of his lips sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel the wetness building between your thighs. The need to have him closer, to feel his skin against yours, became overwhelming. "Hyunjin..." you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he lavished attention on your collarbone.

Hyunjin slowly straightened, his dark eyes meeting yours. They were filled with a mixture of desire, adoration, and a silent question. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, seeking permission. In that moment, time seemed to stand still. You knew that if you nodded, there would be no turning back. The air crackled with tension as you made your decision, your heart racing with anticipation.

With a small nod, you granted him permission. Hyunjin's movements were gentle yet purposeful as he slowly lifted your shirt, his knuckles grazing your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. As the fabric cleared your head, your hair fell into your eyes. Hyunjin paused, a tender smile playing on his lips as he reached up to brush the strands aside, tucking them gently behind your ears. The simple gesture, so full of care and intimacy, made your heart swell.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his lips were on yours again. This kiss was different—deeper, more passionate, filled with unspoken promises and barely restrained desire. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feel of his body pressed against yours. As Hyunjin's hands resumed their exploration of your newly exposed skin, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, your connection—this undeniable, all-consuming love—was worth fighting for.

His hands roamed your body with reverent intensity, expertly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside. As his lips trailed down to your newly exposed skin, you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. The warmth of his breath against your sensitive flesh sent shivers down your spine. Hyunjin's eyes, dark pools of desire, met yours as he whispered against your heated skin, his voice husky and filled with adoration, "You're so fucking beautiful. Every inch of you is perfection."

Hyunjin's hands slid up your long skirt, the fabric rustling softly as he hiked it up to your thighs. His fingers caressed every inch of you. The contrast between his warm hands and the cool air made you shiver with anticipation. "So soft... and all mine," he murmured, his voice deeper than before, dripping with sexual tension. His effortless sexiness, the way his muscles rippled under his skin with each movement, made you ache to remove his clothes, to feel his bare skin against yours.

Your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards with urgent desire. Hyunjin obliged, breaking contact for just a moment to pull his shirt over his head. The sight of his toned chest and abs, now fully revealed, made your breath catch in your throat. Your fingers traced the contours of his muscles, feeling them flex and tense under your touch. The warmth of his skin and the slight sheen of sweat made him glisten in the dim light. A low groan escaped his lips at your touch, the sound sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. "Your turn," you whispered, your eyes locked on his, dark with desire, as your hands moved to undo his belt.

With deft fingers, you unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink echoing in the charged silence between you. You popped open the button of his jeans, the anticipation building with each small action. Hyunjin's breath hitched audibly as you slowly lowered the zipper, the sound seeming impossibly loud in the quiet room. Your eyes never left his, watching as his pupils dilated further with each passing second. The tension between you was electric, palpable, as you pushed his jeans down his hips, revealing more of his toned body.

As his jeans pooled around his ankles, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you. Hyunjin stood there, his sculpted body on full display, every muscle defined and begging to be touched. His chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, his excitement evident in every aspect of his being. Your hands trailed up his thighs, feeling the muscles tense and quiver under your touch. The warmth of his skin seeped into your palms, igniting a fire within you. Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, teasing the sensitive skin there. You could feel his arousal growing harder beneath the thin fabric as your fingertips trailed over his skin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

You could visibly see his pale skin pebble with goosebumps just before you pulled his boxers down, the anticipation making your movements both eager and torturously slow. As the fabric fell away, joining his jeans around his ankles, Hyunjin's impressive length sprang free. The sight made you unconsciously lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry with want. Your hand wrapped around his shaft, feeling it pulse beneath your touch, hot and hard and impossibly smooth. Hyunjin let out a low, guttural groan, his head falling back, exposing the long column of his throat. You began to stroke him slowly, teasingly, watching in fascination as his abs clenched with each movement of your hand.

Your thumb circled the sensitive head, spreading the precum that had gathered there. The slick warmth made your movements smoother, more sensual. Hyunjin's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of your touch, more friction, more of everything you had to offer. "Y/N," he breathed, your name like a sin on his lips. His voice was husky with need, rough with desire. "I need you. Now." The raw want in his tone sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. With those words, Hyunjin lifted you off the counter in one fluid motion, his strength evident in the ease with which he moved you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed flush against each other. You could feel the heat of his arousal against your core, separated only by the thin fabric of your skirt.

He carried you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. The kiss was deep, passionate, filled with promises of pleasure to come. As he gently laid you on the bed, his eyes roamed your body hungrily, taking in every curve, every inch of exposed skin. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and incredibly desired. But then he stilled for a moment, his brows furrowing in confusion. You felt his finger trace over your ribcage, his touch gentle yet questioning. The sudden change in his demeanor was palpable, concern replacing the burning desire in his eyes.

"Y/N, where did you get these?" Hyunjin asked, his voice laced with a hint of anger. His fingers traced the fading yellow-green bruises along your ribcage, his touch feather-light yet sending shivers through your body. The marks, a week old, were a stark reminder of your confrontation with Joo Won.

You hesitated, memories of that night flooding back. Joo Won's face contorted with rage as you told him your heart belonged to Hyunjin. His fingers digging into your skin as he roughly grabbed you, shouting accusations and threats. The fear, the pain, the relief when you finally broke free and ran.

"It's... it's nothing," you whispered, your voice barely audible. But Hyunjin's eyes, usually warm and loving, now blazed with a protective fury. You could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his body tensing above you.

Desperate to salvage the moment, to feel his love rather than relive your pain, you pulled him closer. Your lips found his, urgent and needy. "Please, Hyunjin," you breathed against his mouth, your hips pressing insistently against his. "I need you. I need to feel you, to forget everything else."

For a moment, Hyunjin remained rigid, torn between his desire to protect you and his need to love you. Then, with a soft sigh, he melted into your embrace. His kiss deepened, becoming a promise, an assurance. "I'm here now," he murmured, his lips trailing fire down your neck. "Let me take care of you, let me make you feel good."

His hands, so gentle yet possessive, roamed your body. Each touch seemed to erase the memory of Joo Won's anger, replacing it with warmth and desire. Hyunjin's fingers skimmed over your curves, his palms cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Hyunjin's mouth followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heated kisses down your body. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around each nipple before continuing his descent. When he reached the junction of your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire but still tinged with concern.

"Let me make you feel good," he repeated, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head, his tongue finding your most intimate areas. The first swipe of his tongue made you gasp, your back arching off the bed.

Hyunjin's skilled mouth worked magic on your flesh, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you with fervor. The pleasure built rapidly, your fingers tangling in his thick hair as you felt yourself approaching the edge of ecstasy.

The room filled with the sounds of your pleasure – the wet noises of Hyunjin's mouth, your breathless moans, the rustle of sheets as you writhed beneath him. Your thighs began to tremble, your grip on his hair tightening. "Oh god, Hyunjin... I'm so close," you gasped, your voice high and breathy.

In response, Hyunjin redoubled his efforts. His tongue circled your clit with increased pressure and speed, while one of his hands left your thigh to slide two fingers inside you. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, the coil of pleasure in your core winding tighter and tighter.

With a particularly clever swirl of his tongue combined with a curl of his fingers, Hyunjin pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out his name. Your back arched off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head as you rode out your orgasm.

Hyunjin didn't let up, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to draw out your pleasure until you were trembling and oversensitive. Only then did he slowly kiss his way back up your body, his lips finally meeting yours in a passionate kiss that tasted of you.

As you came down from your high, you felt Hyunjin's hardness pressing against your thigh. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you, both of you gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. The feeling of fullness, of completeness, overwhelmed you as Hyunjin began to move. His hips rolled against yours in a familiar yet exhilarating rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your still-sensitive body. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingertips.

Hyunjin's breath was hot against your neck as he whispered words of adoration. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, punctuating each word with a thrust. "So perfect. I love you so much." His words, combined with the sensations he was creating in your body, brought tears to your eyes.

As the pleasure intensified, your nails dug into Hyunjin's skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders. Your bodies moved in perfect synchronization, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, lost in a moment of pure, unrestrained passion.

Hyunjin's movements became more intense, his thrusts deeper and more purposeful. A light sheen of sweat coated both your bodies, the feeling of skin sliding against skin sending shivers down your spine. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, urging him on as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable crescendo.

With a final, powerful thrust, Hyunjin pushed you both over the edge. Your body tensed, a second wave of pleasure washing over you as you cried out his name. Hyunjin followed moments later, his release mixing with yours as he buried his face in your neck, breathing heavily.

As you both lay there, basking in the afterglow, Hyunjin's arms wrapped around you protectively. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest filled you with a sense of peace and belonging. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, finding his eyes filled with love and adoration.

In that moment, as Hyunjin's eyes bore into yours, you both knew. This was more than just passion or desire. This was a connection that ran soul-deep, a love that could weather any storm. Hyunjin was your person, just as you were his. You owned each other, mind, body, and soul. And in that perfect, quiet moment, you both silently vowed to never let go, to face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

It didn't take long for you to drift off to sleep, held tight in Hyunjin's strong arms. He lay there watching you, mesmerized by the gentle flutter of your eyelashes and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Your skin glowed in the dim light, and he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his fingertips. You were the most precious thing to him in the entire world, a realization that both thrilled and terrified him.

Though he may not have shown it before, Hyunjin was now determined to make up for all the wasted time and mend your broken heart. He thought about all the moments he'd missed, all the times he could have loved you the right way but didn’t. The weight of his regret was heavy, but it fueled his resolve to do better, to be better for you.

You were his to protect, and as Hyunjin lay there in the dark bedroom, his mind began to race. The memory of those bruises on your skin made his blood boil. He didn't need you to tell him who gave you those marks; he knew. His jaw clenched as he imagined Joo Won's hands on you, hurting you. The protective instinct that surged through him was almost overwhelming.

Slowly, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, Hyunjin reached for his phone. The blue light illuminated his face as he typed out a short, cryptic message to Minho. "Need a favor before I leave.” He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, knowing that once he did, there would be no going back. But as he looked down at your sleeping form, so vulnerable and trusting in his arms, he knew he had to do whatever it took to keep you safe.

As he set his phone aside, Hyunjin's mind was already formulating a plan. He would make sure Joo Won never laid a hand on you again, no matter what it took. With a soft sigh, he pulled you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he whispered into the darkness, a promise and a vow wrapped into three simple words. "And I'll always protect you."

Taglist💕

@cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @syedazarintasnim @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @shecheatedwithme @antisocialties @akaligogrrr @thisaintredwine @rose-w-00-d @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @kayleefriedchicken @skzfelixlove @athforskz

[roosterbruiser]

ok i just read your jake x reader get caught by their teenage son. and it had me thinking about their teenage son has friends over and one of them is clearly crushing on seresin son’s mom (aka reader). jake would be protective and youd tease him bc hes just a kid. and then your son would notice his friends constant looks at you and be like “if you dont stop that youre never coming over again” and jake would be all smug like “thats my boy” 💀

𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

Jake is a wise enough man to know that you're the hot mom.

I mean, really, anyone should know just from looking at you.

But he especially knows because he's been your partner for a long time; he knows the kind of attention you get from both sexes, the kind of looks you never really see but he achingly does.

So he isn't surprised necessarily whenever August brings his friends over for a pool day and finds all of those pimple-faced boys practically drooling over you.

Not that they can help themselves really--they're jacked up on hormones and probably just discovered porn, like, recently.

Honestly, it's kind of endearing at first.

All the boys are stuttering out yes ma'am's and gaping at you and stealing long-lasting glances whenever they can.

Not that you even notice--no, you're just preoccupied trying to be a good host. You've done the whole mom-thing today by cutting up about a billion fruits, buying sub sandwiches for everyone, getting the bluetooth speaker out, setting out towels, the whole ordeal. It's important to you that all of August's friends feel comfortable in your home.

This surprises Jake because most of the boys haven't discovered the wonders of deodorant yet, but he understands that you're softer by nature.

Jake's right there next to you, making sure everything runs smoothly. But dammit if he finds himself unable to take his eyes off you, too--you look undeniably sexy today. You look sexy every single day, no matter the time (hence getting caught so early in the morning that one fateful day).

You're wearing a black one-piece, your most conservative swimsuit, that comes up high on the hips and kisses your curves just right. Your hair is in a clip and your cheeks are sun kissed and your chest is glowing with sunscreen--God, you just look effortlessly beautiful today.

Honestly, you look like you could be in a swimsuit catalog. Like one of the ones Jake would've stolen from his mother's bathroom when he was August's age. So he kind of gets the boggling.

It doesn't help that you're prancing all around, making sure there are enough napkins and running back into the house whenever you remember that you bought the makings for virgin margaritas.

He sees all the boys drooling over you when you sit on your knees at the edge of the pool and bend forward to dole out the glasses.

He also sees August punch a few of his friends arms with an incredulous look--one Jake found himself on the receiving end of not long ago.

The first time Jake steps in is when one of the boys, named something dumb like Braydenleigh or something like that, spills his drink all down your front. He frames it like an accident, his cheeks going bright red and his voice thin as he blurts apologies. But Jake saw it happen--he saw Braydenleigh nudge one of the other boys with a smirk, saw him get into position and let the glass slip out of his hands and all over your plush chest and lap as you sat on the edge of the pool.

You're too nice--you are forgiving him instantly, assuring him that the cool drink is honestly for the best since it's so hot! Plus you're wearing black, so no need to worry about a stain!

But you're running your fingers along your breasts now, your hands getting sticky with lime and salt, and instead of dirtying the pool water that your husband religiously tries to keep clean, you start to carefully lick your hands free of the margarita.

And every single boy in the pool is oggling, their eyes practically bulging out of their heads as they move to cross their hands over their crotches.

"Hey, baby, c'mere," Jake says as he approaches, discarding his shirt so the bird-chested boys can see what a real man's chest looks like. "Use this."

Jake hands you his shirt and you grin up at him, taking it softly and beginning to dab at your chest with it.

"Thanks, baby!"

"Why don't you boys run along and find a jet to hump or something?" Jake says to the boys, a grin plastered to his lips.

Then they're all blushing again, fleeing, as August snickers softly to himself.

But then Jake looks down at you and sees that you're gaping at him now, your eyes narrowed.

"What was that?" You hiss.

"What was what?" Jake says innocently, definitely not flexing his biceps as he stretches nonchalantly.

"Oh, I get it," you grin, holding your hips and letting his shirt sit in your lap. "You're jealous, huh?"

Jake scoffs. As if.

"Not jealous of a bunch of little boys," Jake says as he sits decide you, making sure your thighs are pressed together.

"Mmhmm, so I guess you took your shirt off because you're hot, then?"

Jake laughs, shrugging.

"My wife needed my help," he says. "I am a gentleman after all."

"Wow," you sigh, leaning on his shoulder. "If only there were some sort of item that could soak up liquids--you know, like a towel. And if only we were somewhere that have towels in abundance--you know, like a pool."

Jake just grins.

"Wishful thinking, sweetie."

And even though you don't really believe that the boys think you're hot and you're specifically looking away from them when you know that their glances have fallen on you once more, you love your husband for protecting you.

"Hey, uh, Mrs. Seresin?" One of the boys calls out as the other boys flock around him giggling.

"Yes, honey?" You ask sweetly.

August is staring at the boy from the other side of the pool, absolutely fed up with all of his friends antics today.

The boy clears his throat and gives you a nauseating grin.

"We have an odd number for chicken," he explains pathetically. "Wanna partner up and get on my shoulders?"

Before you can even respond, too shocked to do anything but laugh at first, August is trudging through the water to stand in between you and the boy. Jake has stiffened beside you, putting an arm around you protectively.

"Bro, if you don't stop coming onto my mom, then I'll be forced to tell everyone here that you wet the bed a couple weeks ago!" August says.

The boy goes absolutely pale as the rest of their friends break out in laughter.

Honestly, you want to reprimand him. He can be a brutal little thing, something he gets from his father, and you can't help but feel a little sorry for the little pervert that wets his bed.

But then August gestures to you and very fiercely says, "Apologize to her, bro. Now!"

And the boy meekly apologizes, barely able to meet your gaze. The other boys are hitting his arms now, unable to control their roaring laughter.

"I've told you before, Hayden," August says incredulously, crossing his arms and tutting. "You're never gonna get anywhere in life if you don't respect women."

And suddenly you've never been more proud of your little man. You've always known that he's got a good head on his shoulders. He's truly wise beyond his years, something he gets from you. And you know that you brought him up to respect women, especially with the aid of your husband who practically worships the dirt you walk on, but seeing it in action just makes your heart soar.

If you didn't know any better, you'd hop into the pool and kiss his sweet little face. But you know that would just take all the attention off Piss Pervert and you want him to burn a little bit.

"Atta boy," Jake whispers, choking on his own pride for your son.

"We should get him a dog or something," you whisper, smiling fondly at August as he initiates a group-wide game of Marco-Polo.

"A car, maybe?"

"Something," you whisper back to Jake, leaning on his shoulder. "He's a good boy."

"He's got a good mama," Jake whispers, squeezing your hip and pressing a chaste kiss to your hair. "Raised him right."

"Don't worry," you tease, "I'm sure there's still time to mess him up."

here is my tag list!!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

[skunaskitten]

Yakuza Husband ch2

Paring: sukuna x female reader

Contains: family talk, mention of death, stabbing, flirting

Au: sukuna yakuza boss

Summary: You are just trying find a way to live normal with sukuna being in your home as well but it was getting hard, it would be best if you just sat and talk with him.

chapter1 ch2 chapter 3

 Ever since that night of sukuna's threats you kept your distance from him. Your boss has given you three days off and those days you ignored him waiting for your foot to fully heal up so you could walk properly again. Your coworkers were worried about what happened. You just told them you stepped on glass from a plate you dropped. You left out the details of sukuna. 

 He stayed out in the living room watching movies while you hid in your room only coming out to get food or to ask how his wound feels. You tried to have as little talk with sukuna as you could. The following day he was still in just his dirty pants with no shirt. Maybe it would be best if you got him some clothes since he is staying here a while. 

"Hey sukuna."

 He looked over at you taking a bite of the sandwich he made. 

"I am going to go out to the store and get you fresh clothes and extra stuff." Sukuna smirked and gave you the size of his clothes. As you were about to grab the door he spoke out.

"Are you really going out there you are still limping. You shrugged and said "it's not so bad anymore. Plus there is things called busses and trains." 

"Hey kitten, come here. Take this."

 You curiously walked over to him as he stuck his hand into the cushion of your couch and pulled out a pocket knife. He opened it showing it to you. A tonto shaped blade about five inches long. "What is that for?"

"For your protection do not hesitate to use it. Keep it close to you."

You took it carefully and closed it then slipped it into your sweater pocket. 

"Thank you sukuna, I will be back. If I don't come back before sundown. I guess you should start to worry." 

"Kitten do not be afraid to use it. Make them bleed."

You gave a soft smile to him as he watched you leave the house then he walked up to your window taking a peek outside watching you walk away.

 The first place you went was to a clothing store, looking around in the men's section picking a dark red button shirt and a black casual shirt. You smiled then went to look at the pants seeing which ones will fit as you checked the sizes on them. 

 "May I help you find anything miss?"

 You looked over to see one of the female workers giving you a smile. "Oh no it's alright I am just trying to see what color would best fit on someone."

 She smiled and asked "husband or son?" You blushed a little saying "uhh a friend." She giggled and said "no worries I will be around if you need help." You nodded and walked around some more until you found the things you needed. 

 You also stopped by a pharmacy to pick up more bandages for his wound. Walking around was starting to make your foot sore so you just had to walk slow. Taking the same route you always do when going home which means you had to walk by the same alleyway where you found sukuna. Your body felt a bad feeling in the air as you got closer to that alleyway. You wondered if his phone was still there?

 As you came out from the corner there was someone standing there at the end talking on a phone. Feeling a shiver go down your spine you stepped away back around the corner of the wall to hide. The sun was setting and you had been out longer than you thought which meant sukuna was going to worry. If he even cared about you at all.

 After what felt a little longer than a few minutes the man finally walked out and he looked normal. Probably just someone taking a walk to talk on the phone and wanting to talk somewhere private. 

 You watched him disappear out of sight so you took the chance to walk down the alley and to the spot where sukuna was at. To your luck the phone was there under some trash and you could still see the blood stains which must had been from him. You picked it up and placed it into your bag but when you turned around the man was standing right there at the entrance.

 "Well, I didn't expect you to be one. They just take anyone, don't they. I am going to need that phone and tell me where you are holding him."

 You gulped clutching onto your bag straps. "I don't know what you are talking about and I don't know who you are." He was wearing sunglasses so you couldn't see his eyes but his white hair and dressed in casual clothing looked normal to you.

 He laughed and walked over to you with long strides saying "no need to lie we can have a normal conversation."

 Alarms were going off in your head as you stuck your hand into your sweater pocket feeling the knife and opened it. 

 "Darling we can do this the good way or bad way. I rather do it the good way. I am really tired. So where are you hiding the king?"

 He got closer to close then you quickly pulled out the knife and slashed it across him but he moved away as he groaned feeling the knife slice across his chest ripping his shirt.

 You took a run for it seeing him holding his chest. Running for your life and not looking back taking the routes back home where there were more people. As you ran by the crowds they looked at you running by not noticing the knife in your hand. You didn't care about the pain in your foot right now you just needed to get home safe.

 Seeing your home getting closer you felt your heart beat louder and harder and legs run faster. Tears filled your eyes as you ran through the gates but you were still not safe. You got to your door and started to fumble to get your keys out feeling your hands shake trying to put the key in. You kept looking back to see if anyone was coming after you.

"Fuck come on just get in already please."

 The door suddenly opened with an arm pulling you inside your slightly darkened home. You yelped feeling yourself being pressed into a chest and the door closed. Feeling the warmth of skin and the bandages on the stomach you knew it was sukuna. You dropped everything and wrapped your arms around him crying slightly.

 Sukuna wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back trying to calm you down. "Hey its alright. Tell me what happened."

 He looked over to the knife on the floor, seeing that you must have used it. 

"I walked past the alley where I found you. There was a man there. I didn't think anything was wrong. When he left I went to get your phone and he came back. He wanted to know where you were. I used it like you said."

 You looked up at him as he smirked and moved his hands to wipe away your tears with his thumb. "That's a good girl y/n. No more tears, your home now. You need to know that once you step foot into this world of mine there is no getting out of it. People will hunt you down to get any information out of you."

 "Will I always have this issue of being hunted now?"

 He saw the sadden look in your eyes as he let out a long breath from his nose. "Sadly yes kitten. There is no escape."

 You pulled away from him looking down at the floor to the stuff then picked up the bag with his new clothes then handed it to him. "Here are the clothes with your phone. I am going to go check my foot."

 Sukuna watched you limp away heading to your room and into the bathroom. He picked up the other stuff and placed it onto the table then pulled out the clothes and supplies you got him. Seeing the red button shirt and black shirt along with black jeans and soft cotton sleeping pants. Inside the bag he noticed the box of bandages and things for a shower. He looked at his stomach thinking it was a good time to get it refreshed.

 He walked to your room and quietly stepped to your bathroom door hearing your slight cries through the door. He didn't know why the guilt started to set in him. He knows he shouldn't feel this way to any one but with you he doesn't know why?

 Sukuna knocked on the door hearing you go quiet. "Y/n my bandages need to be changed." 

 The door opened for him to walk inside and take his seat on the toilet while you just ignored him taking out the stuff needing to clean the stitches. Sukuna could see how drained you are already done with life. Ever since that night he threatened you, it hasn't been the same for you. He remembered the caring eyes you had when you fixed him up and the soft smiles. It's been long since he has gotten any true smiles to him.

 You got onto your knees in front of him and started to peel off the bandage as he smirked and said "if this was a different situation being on your knees would be more fun."

 He didn't see you blush or smile, no emotion. His smirk disappeared and just looked over your face. Seeing nothing behind your eyes. 

"You know you are not a prisoner. This is your home." You still ignored him.

"You hate me. I know it. It's all over your face."

 "Sukuna, I don't want to have this life. I want to go back to my life where I just go to work, see and help animals and come home to relax. I don't want to have this fear of losing my life every time I walk out that door. Like you said there is no way to run from it. So I am trapped and you do not care. The sooner this is healed the better. Then I won't have to see you any more."

 He leaned back watching you. "So now I am just a ruthless man who doesn't care about anyone."

 "Yes." You answered quickly, staring at him with a scowl.

 Sukuna looked away and said "when this is done I will leave right now. Will that make you happy." 

"Won't you get killed."

He scoffed saying "I can handle myself darling."

"Clearly not." You told him pointing to his stomach then said "I promised I will help you. But it's just all this overwhelming. I am scared and stressed. I don't know what is going to happen next."

 You leaned more between his thighs looking at the wound healing up nicely to your liking. He looked at you then closed his legs on you making you gasp and look at him. Sukuna chuckled, resting his cheek on his knuckle and releasing you saying "just making sure you are still aware of your surroundings."

 You shook your head placing on a bandage saying "sukuna how many people have you killed?"

 "Enough."

"That is not a answer."

He sighed and said "a plentiful amount."

 "I wanted to ask you. Why did you ask me if I had a child or family?"

His jaw clenched debating whether he should tell you the truth or not. 

"I don't think you want to hear the truth. Let's just say I have innocent blood on my hands. I am not proud of it. A thing that still haunts me sometimes."

You looked at him asking "did you kill a child?"

 He just stared at you. Seems like you are pushing for the truth.

"Yes and no. I was forced to kill this woman. I didn't know she had a child both out and in the womb."

 You looked away from him. He was right you didn't want to hear the truth but it wasn't like he did it on purpose. 

"Are you a bad or good yakuza?"

 He let out a laugh and said "kitten there are no good yakuza."

"The people that want you dead. They are bad right. Or is it the other way around."

 Sukuna could see that you calmed down and got more curious about him and his way of life. It's better than watching and hearing you cry.

 "Well every yakuza has their own clan. There is no good or evil. We do what we do to keep our family safe. At least I see my clan as family. We protect each other, anyone that is a close friend to us. But others who want me dead are not as friendly as us."

 You leaned your arms on his thighs looking at him curious to hear more of his stories.

"The man I ran into called you a king. What did that mean?"

 He smirked saying "I am the king of my clan. Ryomen sukuna, king of curses. Because in this life we are all cursed."

 "It's a fitting name for you. I want to ask. Do your tattoos mean anything?"

 Sukuna ran a hand through his hair then said "yes they all have a meaning. The plants are representing of  japan and these flowers. Cherry blossoms are a big part of our culture. The lotus of life, the spiritual energy. And spider lilies of rebirth or death."

 You smiled slightly looking at the colors saying "they are pretty."

"As for the one on my chest is what I do to people. I take their fingers as a mark." 

You looked at him saying "gross do you keep them?"

He chuckled at your comment. 

"I keep them for a while then send them back to the owner. They won't be able to put them back on though."

 "What about your back?" 

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck and said "that is me. The king of curses."

"The artwork looks amazing."

He smirked and looked at his other arm.

"The dragon is everywhere in this culture a spirit. It could also mean power as well."

 You noticed him stop talking, not explaining the tiger. "Umm what about the tiger?" He stiffened up and finally spoke but his voice was more quiet, "that is, for my little brother."

 You can tell it's a touchy subject for him so you just let it go for now. 

"You must a good big brother then." He nodded but didn't say anything else as you stood up saying "well your wound has been cleaned up and fresh."

 Sukuna looked at you and said "what did this man look like?" You looked back at him and said "he was wearing sunglasses." He cut you off asking "did he have white hair casual clothing?"

 "Yea why?"

Sukuna let out a sigh and stood up saying "that man is an idiot. He is one of my people. He probably thought you were along with the others that tried to get rid of me. But as you can tell they did a poor job. Always make sure your enemy is completely dead, always shoot in the head for an after kill."

 "Sukuna, I am sorry I cut him. I didn't know."

 He chuckled and said "don't be, I am proud. It teaches him a lesson never let his guard down or to approach anyone without backup."

 You and sukuna walked out of the bathroom and to the living room as sukuna held up the clothes you got for him. Then went to pick up his phone looking at it. "Fuck it won't even turn on."

 A smile formed on your face "I might be able to help. I have an extra phone. I still kept it after I got a new one just in case I broke mine."

 You ran into your room going through a box in your closet then pulled out your other phone and came back to him handing it over. He smiled taking it then sat down to take apart the phones. You sat beside him watching him put the little memory card into your old phone then turned it on. When he saw all his information he smiled wide.

 "Ahh perfect! Thank you sweetheart. Now I can let my people know I am safe."

 You left sukuna alone to give him space to talk if he needed to talk about things he can't say in front of you. After he was done on the phone he walked over to you. "Y/n I told my men about you so if you need to go anywhere they will be watching you from afar to make sure you are safe during your travels."

 You smiled at him saying "thank you sukuna."

 It was the last day for your time off before you had to go back into work. You wanted to stay out in the living room to watch movies but sukuna was on the couch taking a nap. It is your home so rules are rules, you went out to sit on the floor in front of the couch. He turned in his sleep letting his arm fall off beside you.

 You softly chuckled and went to place his arm back taking a longer look at his tattoos admiring the art work. You smiled and placed his arm back giving it a slight pat as you continued to watch your movie.

 Sukuna didn't seem like the bad yakuza type when he is calm like this. It does scare you still after he threatened you but you can see how he feels bad about doing that to you. After seeing him on his bad side then sitting him watching him sleep peacefully, it was cute to see him. 

 You bit your lip slightly and raised your hand to touch his pink fluffy hair feeling the slight softness of it. Looking at the black shirt and sleeping pants you bought him, he looks hot in them. You picked out the perfect color and fit. As you pulled your hand away you heard his voice. "Did I say stop?"

 You snapped your attention to him saying "sukuna I am sorry I didn't mean to touch you." He smirked, crossing his arms saying "it's fine kitten. It felt nice."

 Sukuna groaned as he sat up and ran through his hair. "I should try to take a shower."

You smiled at him saying, "well I bought you supplies so you can go ahead if you want just don't soak the stitches. I will bring you some more bandages."

 You left to your room and into your bathroom to grab the medical kit then you walked over to the spare bathroom to the door giving it a knock hearing him tell you to come in. When you walk through the door you froze seeing him naked from the back side. A blush filled your cheeks standing there frozen but your eyes would stop shamelessly staring at his naked form. His ass and thighs seeing a black band around the top of his thighs. All the muscle that is on him. The full art work on his back.

 Sukuna looked over at you with a smirk. "Hey kitten you alright?"

 You snapped out of your gaze placing the kit on the counter then looked away. He chuckled as you turned around as you blushed more and looked away. "I am fine sukuna. I will leave now."

"Why don't you join me?"

You looked back at him then realized he was facing you and you gazed right at it then covered your face.

 "No it's fine…I will leave now.." you left the bathroom closing the door, your cheeks red and face felt hot. 

 He is a dangerous and sexy man. You didn't know why he was so willing to let you see him or even be near him this way. 

 While he took his shower you went to start making dinner for both you and him. Sukuna walked into the kitchen just with his sleeping pants on and a towel around his neck. 

 "What are you making?"

You looked over at him and turned away as you could smell the scent of the soap making you smile. 

"Just some ramen. You know that soap smell fits the color of your hair."

He chuckled saying "I noticed you brought that scent for me."

"Well you smell nice now and not like a dirty alley way." You just so happen to purposely buy cherry blossom pink soap for him just to spite him from being an asshole.

 You looked over to his stomach seeing the stitching and the healing wound. "You didn't put a bandage on it?"

"I like it when you do it."

He moved a hand and went to lightly scratch around the wound as you swatted his hand away. "No scratching you will loosen the stitch work."

 The ramen was done and you served him a bowl and took yours then started to walk towards your room until he spoke out. "Come sit with me."

 You looked at him with hesitation then went to sit on the other side of the couch next to him. The two of you were silent for a while just eating but you broke the silence with a question.

 "So ryomen sukuna. It's an interesting name."

"It means two faced spirit." He looked over at you as you looked at him and said "that explains the double eyes on your face and your tattoo."

 He placed his bowl down onto the table saying "I want to ask. Where did you learn to do medical work?"

 You put your bowl down as well and got more comfortable on the couch. "My father taught me. He used to work on animals as well. So I just followed in his footsteps. Now I work for a shelter helping injured animals."

 He turned his attention to you and rested his cheek on his knuckle of his right hand. "How did you know to fix up people?"

 You looked away to your hands. "He used to bring home his friends with stab and bullet wounds. He showed me how to fix up wounds like that. So I know how to stitch up animals and humans."

 "What happened to him?"

 You let out a sigh and said "he was shot and died at the hospital. The report said it was suicide attempt. I don't believe it. I think he was murdered."

 Sukuna then asked "where is your mother?"

 You started to tear up and say "car accident she died when i was young so I didn't get to grow up with her it was just me and my dad."

 "You've been alone for a while. No lover?"

You gave him a sad smile hearing sukuna's question  and said "I have bad luck with men. None are faithful."

 You looked back to sukuna and said "did you know that I almost died in the womb. Well could have. My mother was stabbed when she was eight months pregnant with me. My mother survived a stab wound and in the process she punched the man in the face."

 Sukuna smirked and said "well I am glad you are here. I would probably be tied up and tortured to death if you didn't find me."

 You gave him a wide smile and said "I am happy that my work was able to help someone. With this rate your wound should be healed up fully in no time." 

 "Did you see a dog in the alley way?" You looked back on him confused and said "yes why?"

"I saw him and went to give him some food then I was attacked. I am surprised that dog stayed around".

You smiled saying "the dog probably knew you were in danger so he was waiting to signal someone that just so happened to be me."

 He smirked and asked "what is your favorite animal?" You chuckled and said "I like cats the most but I guess for animals I would have to say it's tigers." He said "just like my little brother he loved tigers."

 Sukuna quickly looked to you realizing he slipped up by telling you that part of his life he does not wish to speak of. "It's fine if you don't want to speak about it."

 He sighed laying back against the couch saying "he died. I got this tattoo for him after he passed."

 You could see the hurt behind his eyes as he looked at the tattoo but he didn't show it through his body.

 "Hey ryomen I think I am going to go to bed now. I have work early tomorrow. Will you be fine by yourself?"

He smirked saying "yes I am fine I am a big boy."

You went to bed with still worried thoughts about sukuna being in your home alone. But you seemed to get closer to him after the talk. Hopefully you are more on a friend level with him so that you don't have to worry much.

thank you for reading. sukuna is slowly learning all new feelings.

< chapter1 chapter 3 >

[zoesblogsposts]

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[chibi-celesti]

Was yea ra afezeria infel waath sos herra(I bless you with my love and song of healing)-REDUX

A/N: Yes, you are reading this title correctly! I needed to remaster this story so badly. Not that the old was bad, Sevens no. I wasn’t happy with the format and execution. This is not tied to the main story. It was a test run for how Hymmnos would play out in Twisted Tonelico, but yeesh. The format for the chorus and awkward wording left little to be desired in my opinion ^-^’. Hopefully this redux is better.

By the way, for the sake of this story, I had Meryu sing the Pastalie/ [Method] song Implanter-aka METHOD_IMPLANTA/.-a form of Hymmnos that she cannot technically sing because she is not an IPD. But for the sake of this drabble she is one, and I gave it to her because this song fits the events of GloMas. Plus, I was in the mood for some Malleyuu fluff when I wrote this lol.

One more thing!: Words in parentheses are the Bell of Salvation singing, and non parentheses words are Meryu singing!

With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this redux!!

Synopsis: In the aftermath of the Fire Lotus incident, the Ramshackle Prefect felt powerless as her classmates fought tooth and nail to end the chaos. Knowing the weakening states of everyone in her group and the city, Meryu decides to break the nighttime rules for one night to sing. Only this time, this song is a gift to all.

Pairings: Malleus Draconia x Meryu Melenas (though like with the old one you read their relationship as platonical or romantical)

Warnings: N/A outside of Glorious Masquerade Spoilers

The night still fell onto Fleur City. The city itself seemed calm and at peace, a complete opposite from what transpired a mere hours ago. Long after the sun had begun to set, horrid flowers of fire had sprouted throughout the city like a disease. Sucking the magic and life out of all its citizens. The people within this primavera town would’ve forever been trapped in the clutches of that fiery nightmare brought on by the Fire Lotuses, were it not for the valiant efforts of Night Raven’s finest.

Together, they had confronted the perpetrator responsible for the birth of this former parasyte, Rollo Flamme, defeated him and used the Salvation magic of the City’s Bell of the same name to eradicate the vile plague before it would spread to all of Twisted Wonderland.

In the end, they all celebrated at the city’s Noble Bell College Lecture Hall, closing off the school’s Arcane Field Trip with the highly anticipated Masquerade. After that, everyone had retired for the evening, so they may be prepared for their eventual return to their school life.

Thinking back to all that happened made it impossible for one little soul to sleep. The soul of Meryu Melenas, Night Raven College’s lone Reyvateil, could not fall back asleep at all. Her mind was still racing from all that transpired. The tour, the square, the outbreak, the fall…almost losing her dearest Prince to death. All of it consumed her mind so badly, the poor girl couldn’t even think straight. 

Meryu hated the fact that she was powerless to stop the fire lotus. She had attempted once to use her songs, only for the blasted plants to try and choke her voice out. She loathed not noticing the signs when Rollo was telling her his thoughts on magic and how the world was better off without it. She felt useless…again.

Getting up from the bed Noble Bell offered to her for their stay, Meryu grabbed the coat from her NRC uniform and quietly stepped out of the room. Since Grim had stayed the night with Deuce it made it much easier for her to leave. Making sure she did not disturb anyone else sleeping in their rooms, with the grace of a ballet dancer she walked past the living quarters and further into the school halls. 

Wandering the enormous, stained glass window halls of Noble Bell College, Meryu marveled at the beauty of the moon’s soft light shining past the colored window planes. She thought once again to the Masquerade where she danced and jumped with everyone to Malleus’s tribute song. It was enchanting, both the dance and his song. It felt like she was healed by his singing like she has to him and everyone during her time in this world.

Before she knew it, her feet had guided her to the very Lecture Hall where everything started. Gazing above to the ceiling, beyond the paintings detailing the beauty of Fleur City, was the Bell of Salvation. An Artifact that she had noted to have the same SH-Waves of Infel Phira back home in Ar Tonelico and the Dark Mirror back at school. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, praying to the enchanted Bell. 

‘Oh Holy Bell, I wish for you to sing with me this night. Would you please join me?’

The soft chimes from above signaled to the young Song Mage that they would love to.

‘Thank you…’

A melody began to play, giving Meryu the chance to perform her serenade.

~xA rre exail sarr wLYErm anw sphaela/. xA sorr aLYEuk zess l.l.n. anw aje harphe/. xA sorr aLYEuk zess y.y. Ahiew_ayulsa/.~

Through her song, she hoped and wished for it to heal everyone within this City of Flowers.

~xU rre rhaplanca hLYEmYAmArU enw raklya en yLYEzAtU, jLYEwA dejuy an arhou tes 1001 Implanta/.~

Her body began to glow; a warm light filled with love encompassing her and her song. Wisps of the light took on a phantasmic form; a Will of Wonderland.

~Hana wo sanji shu ni someta yubi de Hitai wo kazaru toge wo ande~ ~Watashi wa ima shokuzai no shirushi Ibara no tsuru no kauburi itadaku~ ~Hohotsutai ochiru shizuku Kawaita daichi ni somite~

She swayed with the tune, slowly dancing about with the fainted Will within the Bell.

~Inochi no me uruosu you Ame to narite sosogitai Anata ni~

As the Will danced with her, it began to drop small golden orbs into the ground…

~Kono mune no naka afururu Hikari maioriru~ ~Inori no tane wa kagayou Kiseki ni mebuku~

Each one became a small wave that flew into the school walls. The waves then became pulses that flew beyond the campus walls and expanded into the sleeping city. As this happened, Meryu began to recall the moment the fire lotuses bloomed and Rollo showing his true colors.

~xN rre harr f.s. tes maoh ess ouvyu sechel/. :/xO rre qejyu m.t.y.y. anw daedu/. Naave wEsLYN ayulsa sphaela/. xE rre vega a.u.k. ayulsa Asiance_qejyu/:~

Almost as if it’s reenacting Malleus's actions from the Fall, the Bell’s Will embraced the Reyvateil and sang together with her.

~xN rre Maoh s.s.w. tie Rhaplanca enw h.k.t.t. has./~ (:/Reta yorr tYAnu za j.d.r. gor Ajues_qejyu./ sYAIA Atitia_qejyu, Reta yorr hYArAnAt oucc/.)

The shift in the air from the Bell had unknowingly awoken some of the School's inhabitants. Including a certain fae prince.

(:xU yorr vUsUk 1000 Aujes_qejyu wYAfA za rYAfrm 1001 Atitia_qejyu en vYAsk yor/:)

Meryu, feeling more at ease with the nightmares gone as fast as they appeared, continued on with her blessing.

~Shiroki ashi de deido wo fumishime Tsubasa was tsui kegaruru tomo~ ~Watashi was tada inochi hatsuru made, Asu wo shinjite kanata e Habataku~ ~Aganai wa itsuka tabi no Subete wo oeru sono hibi ni~

The newly awakened group watched Meryu's performance from afar. Some musing at her typical actions. Others were mesmerized by her singing as they had dozens of times. And while one was bewildered by what he saw, the boy next to him was silent, taking it all he was hearing from the lone woman.

~Hatenaki negai utaou Omoi kasaneau~ ~Tsunaida yubi wa ikue no Hanabira no you ni~

The passion within her voice was strong, tears suddenly started to form in her eyes. Even from far away, the smallest of the audience saw them and booked it towards her. Leading to the others to follow suit.

~Kono mune no naka afururu Hikari furisosoge~ ~Negai nokigi wa itsushika Sora eto todoku~

In the climax of their song, the Bell and Reyvateil sung together once more.

(xN herra h.r.n.t. ane sphaela ttu y.y. 1000 hiewi meryu/. xN harr v.s.k. nafa eje en Atitia_qejyu enw h.r.n.t./.) ~xN rre Rhaplanca y.y. eh 1001 Atitita_qejyu, en harr w.n.s. anw ouvyu sechel sev maen olo/.~

~xN harr h.l.s.s. ess ouvyu sechel/. :/xU rre vega a.u.k. zz ayulsa siance/. xU rre vega a.u.k. zodal sechel/:~ ~xN harr y.z.t. en y.z.t. enw raklya/. :/mAtUyYAy 1001 Implanta/:~

The last notes faded away into a whisper, carried off by the wind. the sound of bell chimes echoing through the Lecture Hall. 

When she opened her dewey eyes, Meryu felt something paw at her leg. She looked down and saw Grim looking up at her with worry. She leaned down to scoop him in her arms and hugged him close. Seeing Deuce and Epel rush to her side surprised Meryu even more, causing her to see that the whole NRC group had come down to the Lecture Hall. Even Prof. Trein and Rollo were with them, something that shocked her just as much as seeing her classmates. 

As some of the boys came to her to praise or reprimand the Song Mage, Malleus had stayed silent. All throughout her solo performance he had listened to her words carefully, imprinting each one in his heart. He knew what each melodic note coming from his dearest is what she truly felt deep down.

And for that he was grateful. 

Malleus stepped forward to meet her, the others moving away for him to face the young woman. No words were exchanged, only actions as he embraced his beloved Reyvateil, knowing that was enough to express his thanks to her and her song of healing.

[callsignvenomcod]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter

Young!Simon and his troubled life in Manchester with his equally fucked up best friend Y/N, loosely based on "Chemtrails over the Country Club" by Lana del Rey.

Trigger warning: Mentions of abuse, sexual abuse, drug addiction, physical abuse, violence.

Author's note: In my head, at least for this one shot, young Simon would look like Charlie Hunnam during his Green Street Holigans era. Maybe a tad bit taller. A headcannon of mine, I guess.

He tried to convince himself that he was only crying because of the stinging feeling of the alcohol against his broken skin, against the red cheek bone and the bleeding gash he had on top of his right eyebrow. The flickering greenish, puke-colored light that was dangling on top of his head didn't help much to the cure. That and the sad looking tiles of his bathroom, no toothpaste, broken mirror, whole look. Simon had to convince himself that this really was going to be the last time. He did a lousy job at that. The lad really drank that kool aid.

That next time he will hit harder, that next time he would be smarter, faster, wiser than Daddy. His heart and his lungs were still on fire from the fight he just had with his father; saliva dripping down his chin mixed with vice and blood, because if Simon was a big boy, well, he had to get it from someone. Petey Riley was a big son of a bitch, standing 6'5, belly outside of his wife beater (saddly, ironical) blonde patches of hair covering his baldening head, he drank like one, hit like one. No distinction too, Tommy would take it, his Mum would take it too. Simon just wanted to be present to take the biggest hit. He could bare it; he would do it. For those he loved he would sacrifice.

Some days it felt like he was the bull and his father was The Matador. A bloody number they both put on for his mum and his little brother but none of them were clapping. Simon was merely a distraction, one that showed his horns to drag attention.

It was an act of love. Some days it was all he could give, somedays it was all that there was left of him.

"For fucks sake..." he hissed dapping a pink colored, blood-stained cotton ball against his eyebrow split, the gash squeezing out anti septic and crying red down his face. He threw the cotton ball to the trash bin and let his head hang low on top of the sink, without looking in the mirror, before letting out a big, tired sigh.

18 years old and his live had already gone to shit. No compass pointing north, no aspirations, no home, and a family he felt pity for. A world that felt no pity for them, for him. Simon Riley was just another alley rat of Manchester, with lungs so black from the coal he might as well have been a miner.

The truth was that Tommy could no longer stay in the house like this, nor could his mother. Tommy was barely 12, an age in which his brain was so moldable it might as well be play doh; and Pete fucked everything around him; even carrots would rot if stood next to him too much time. He had to get Tommy away from the man before it was too late. Before he became like him.

There was a knock on the door, and he instantly knew it was his mother, because Tommy would just slip in due to the nature of being a younger brother, and his father would just storm inside, stumbling around to piss without caring someone was using the toilet; plus, his father had stormed out of the house with a loud door slam, making all the glasses in the house rattle. He looked at himself in the mirror while answering.

"Oi..." he acknowledges.

"..." only silence for a moment, before her mother cleared her throat from behind the door. "Here's more antiseptic, sun..." They all knew too much about first aids, he might as well become a doctor or join the army.

He almost smiled at use of the old nickname. Her sun, he called him. 18, looking 23, and his mum still called him sun.

Simon perked up in front of the mirror, his trashed simple white shirt, (now stained with yellow and few drops of blood) slipping back on himself as he took a deep breath and walked out of the toilet, straight into the hall.

His mother took a few steps back. It had been a while since Simon had outgrown her in height. The blonde woman, pale and frail stood in front of him and only could see the tip of his chin now. She was wearing acid washed jeans and a bright colored shirt with shapes in it very 80's, and they were so dirt poor it might as well be from the 80's. On top of that, an open bathroom robe and her hair was, in deed a mess.

Molly Riley, maiden name Harrison, winced out loud at the state of his son's face. Simon could tell she had been crying. "Oh, sun..." she moaned, quivering lower lip.

The woman looked up at his older son and gave him an apologetic smile, and Simon would be damned if he stood around to listen to her apologized for whatever reason it made his father snap this time. Simon shook his head, sadly used to this and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, feeling her shiver under his touch.

"Where's Tommy?" he asked, walking over to his room with his mother following close on his step. He just wanted to slip on his jumper and get out of the house.

"He's at the TV room. Sooty and Co is on." She explained, leaning against the frame of the door, hugging herself. She watched with hazel eyes as his older son would sin on his bunk bed and slip on his white trainers, dusty and worn out, and zipped up a jumper that went just below his chin, putting on a jacket on top of it.

"Simon..."

"Mum..." they both said at the same time as they mirror each other. He knew what would happen the second he went outside the house. Tommy would drown himself in milk and cereal, being a vegetable in front of the TV until his eyeballs burned, and his mother would sit in the couch behind him, laughing at the show until she ran away to cry in her room, toying with the idea of picking of the things and leaving Pete. Nothing would happen and the wheel will keep turning. In a not so hopeful way of speech, they still had tomorrow. They had to take that as it sounded at the moment.

"Where are you going?" she asked, in an effort to seem motherly. The boy had seen her give up all her earthly power to the monster of his father and being in this same room with her suffocated him. He hated himself for it. Sometimes he had to really try not to hate her. He could never be quite there, but he was always dangerously close.

"Pub." He simply said, feeling up his pocket to make sure he had enough money to spend. He worked long shifts in the butcher's and weirdly enough, being surrounded by so much blood and carnage made him feel relaxed. Maybe it had to do with the fact it was him holding the knife and the pig hanging upside down, cutthroat. Simon wanted to tap out, get a flat for himself, even move cities, move damn planets, but couldn't bring himself to leave Tommy and his mother behind. They were all victims of the same natural disaster. "Don't stay up."

"Well, give her my regards..." she simply said with a soft smile.

They shared a knowing look, knowing that Molly would drop a pill in a few hours and won't be up until tomorrow morning; if lucky. She nodded, dropped eyes, and leaned against the frame to let Simon walk past her, the too loud sound of the TV in the room next door and distracted laughs of his younger brother making a soundtrack. Simon would look the back of his blonde hair before stepping out of the door and head out to the pub, much like his father did a few hours ago.

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

Breathe in, breath out. Mechanical, your body could do it without your brain telling it to, but sometimes your brain got so anxious it forgot about it. Some people started calling them anxiety attacks. Doctors, mostly. Y/N wasn't a doctor, but instead just knew it made her feel like ripping out her hair one by one and crawl out of her skin.

The cigarettes helped. Michelle, her older sister told her it wasn't a very feminine look to smoke Marlboro reds the way she did, but with a prostitute mother and a junkie lizard for a step father, whatever effort they made to look good to society was futile now.

That and the multiple bruises they both sported on their bodies. Michelle had learned how to put makeup on them, Y/N couldn't bother anymore.

Michelle. Emerald eyes, long face, short hair. Smart Michelle, kind Michelle, 5 years older Michelle, in love Michelle, pregnant Michelle, crying face Michelle, "Come with us" Michelle, "Come to see me soon," Michelle. Two jobs and a new born Michelle, always a mother Michelle. Too busy for her Michelle.

Michelle, Michelle, Michelle. Ma belle.

She missed Michelle, and now and then she wished she just had picked up and left Manchester with her and John, take a train to America, to a place called Chicago. Scape this place like a crying Michelle had asked her to, but no. She had done too much: her older sister had already acted like a mother her whole life, and Y/N thought she deserved a chance at love. John was that. A chance at happiness. A warm pair of arms, a nice house. No unsolicited grabbing, to drugs, no shouting and no smacks. Y/N couldn't just storm into her life and wreck it all, be a reminder of the past Michelle barely survived.

She took a drag of her third cigarette and leaned against the back alley of the convenience store she worked in. Few hours, shitty pay, but it was a way to stay away from her house, with her mom asleep, drugged off her tits most of the day and working all the night, she no longer felt like it was a home; not that it ever did. It was a place where she had a thin mattress and some clothes and a place she would only want to use to sleep.

The girl hugged herself, her too big on her black coat almost swallowing her. Her shift was off, the old man owner of the store telling her to "fix herself" before coming back on Monday.

He meant the bruises. They all meant the bruises.

She had a gash on top of her eyebrow from running away from a blow from Ethan, Mum's husband, presumedly pimp. It took a lot of rage, but the bastard wouldn't touch her again, not a single hair on her head.

This was not the first time he did it. This was not the last time it would happen. Y/N knew it.

Her hands slipped down her face, chipped burgundy polish on her nails, and she ran her hand down her hair, stepping on her cigarette butt and placing her hands inside her pockets.

She could see her breath in front of her, and the news said that it might snow this year again. Man, her house could no longer hold another winter the way it was. It was cold and wet on the bottom floor, and she wouldn't dare step upstairs in fear of the risks of being in the same room as Ethan.

She thought that if it came down to it, she could always convince Simon to just gather some money and spend the season in a motel with heat. It was a luxury, but she didn't want to be an Ice Lolly.

She smiled to herself at the thought of him. She flicked open the fire and lit another cigarette, the cherry burning almost instantly as she blew the smoke out of her hair. The girl started walking out of the alley, with a bit of a hunched back to her step, something she learned from when she was a kid and tried to conceal the fact that she had grown tits now.

The boy was her best friend, if not he was her only friend, the only one she could trust. What started with an innocent childhood friendship, with both of them being at the headmaster's office almost daily (teachers would find Y/N stealing stickers and pennies out of other girl's school bags and had to physically break out fights Simon started) developed into a deep understanding of each other circumstances; into an everlasting love that held no labels.

Simon gave Y/N her first beer at 11 years old and smoke her first joint with her at 12. Y/N pierced Simon's ear lobe with a burnt-out safety pin drenched in vodka, and with time had more experience in curing his bruises than the local doctor. A match made in heaven, you could say. A refuge for both of them. They both did it for the right reasons.

It was freedom of not having to use a mask. Y/N could crumble to pieces in front of Simon, curse the Gods, curse fate, confess herself a human being because she knew her vulnerability was safe with him, that Simon wouldn't let the light in.

In a sick joke of destiny, they seemed made for each other. Y/N's mum was also an addict much like Pete Riley. Broken homes both opened their doors to let loose the monster that lived inside Simon and Y/N's chest, and their jaw clenched at a fury that they never knew where to direct. None of them knew very well how to live now, and at 18, it had stopped being cute long ago.

So, it wasn't Simon beating up John Misty in the playground, rather bare-knuckle fighting drunks at the local pubs that would serve him, spitting into his father's face, in a screaming contest with the police. It was no longer Y/N shop lifting lip glosses from Macy's, giving a cheeky wink to the slow and beat up security cameras, rather than that it was her letting any boy that would fake listen to her feel her up under her clothes in the alley, picking up the tails of stranger's joints in the street. In a race with rats.

The girl detached herself from the wall and fixed her jacket, putting some strands of hair behind her ear and walking down the alley, the sound of her torn sneakers against the cold pavement. The bags under her eyes were turning blue now and her back was starting to hurt like it always did after a shift, but she couldn't go back home, if she ever had one. Plus...she thought, looking up.

The stars were out.

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

It was a nice night.

The stars were out.

He could see it through the smoke of his joint as he leaned over the hill, joint in one hand, 40oz of beer in the other one. Nothing but the grey air of Manchester and the big hill under him, and yet the moon and the stars managed to go out and shine down on all of them mortals. Simon took a drag of the smoke and blew it out almost immediately, feeling every muscle in his body relax. He had to thank Ake next time he saw him; Ake had half a brain but double the heart and was always there when he needed someone to talk to...or free weed.

Yeah, Simon had that other bit covered. He knew that whenever he decided to open his mouth to speak whatever was locked inside, Y/N would be there to listen to him. He was the only girl he could talk to without fucking stuttering or feeling such an inadequate monster of a man. All the girls around him were older, mostly prostitutes, ladies of the night, that were equally broken than him, and more often than not, Simon thought about...just doing it. Pay for it. Pay for sex. In reality, he was paying for the company, for a warm chest and nice hands, for a fake smile, cheap perfume, but who was he to judge?

He stopped doing it that one time he saw Y/N's mum walking down the street in very tight latex and tired eyes and he couldn't stomach the image of another prostitute's kid, hungry and cold, waiting for their mum at home. Much like Y/N had done it before, and Michelle before her.

Around the same time, Y/N grew sick of the one-night stands. Of boys pretending to listen, to care, to feel her up. She grew tired of the empty eyes and the dead beat "goodbye's" after having sex. And after fucking Paul Brendan in the back of the school yard, and the boy fixing himself up and giving him a nasty wink without a second action to it as a goodbye, she decided enough was enough.

It was nice to have a friend for any ocasion.

A best friend.

They started fucking each other the summer they both turned 17.

And they never said it was something, let's say, exclusive, but none of them touched anyone else. Y/N just couldn't trust anyone else enough to do so, wouldn't go near boys or men in general after that last slip of her dignity and self-worth, and it was only wrapped around Simon's arms that she could allow herself to be as intimate as she wanted to, to literally spread open for him.

For Simon, however, it ran deeper. Once he tasted Y/N, well...there was literally no one else in the whole of Manchester that could catch his attention. Maybe he was attracted to other girls, sure, Emily Nichols could make a grown man cry with those tits of her, and Samantha Blunt's leg should be ensured for 1'000'000 pounds at least, but there was just something about Y/N that no one else could supply. It was like she had some sort of additive dripping from in-between her legs, something laced in her saliva that he just couldn't resist. He was just perpetually thirsty.

They never quite said it but they both knew they were only for each other, and they knew each other enough, so much, to reach the point where Simon could tell Y/N who she was in case she forgot.

And that's why, guzzling the rest of his first 40 oz down his throat, messily getting his chin wet, Simon could hear the dry leaves behind him and identify, the way only a kid born in a house on fire could, the steps of her friend behind him.

This was their spot. Sure, maybe some junkies came over, left needles and used condoms around, teenagers like themselves used them to drink from cans of beer and leave their traces behind but this was their spot. Hidden behind thick leaves and bushes, down the hill, slightly tilted down enough to lay down with no effort, only using their elbows. Simon bit down the joint to keep it in place and scratched under his shirt lazily.

"Look what the cat dragged in..." Simon joked, eyes still to the front, to the dark night. He earned nothing but an annoyed huff erupting from Y/N's plush lips as the girl sat down next to him in the dark.

"Fuck off, Riley. I am not in a good mood today."

Simon almost giggled in a lazy weed haze. "Oi, when are you ever in a good mood? I bet...-Shit."

"Shit." They both said at the same time, staring at each other, analyzing their faces, at least as much as the moonlight would let them. They had seen each other with all sorts of bruises and gashes, purple and red, dried blood and busted out stitches but it was always a sight for sore eyes. Simon sat down correctly, putting off the joint next to him next to the beer bottle and Y/N crawled next to him, sitting on her knees to observe his face.

Simon's hands went directly to her face, delicately, afraid to hurt her even more, calloused hand above a beat-up princess cheek. He wasn't surprised, he stopped being surprised years ago, at the same exact spot, seeing her first bruise, boiling with rage, wanting to go to her father, beat him up. Simon was as scrawny 12 year old back then.

Yeah, but it still wasn't a pleasant view. Never would be.

Y/N at the same time was able to stare back at him. Simon's rugged features were there, no doubt, but if she squinted her eyes enough, she could see the boy beneath him. The soft cheeks, now beat up, the kind eyes, now darkened. He was also sporting a pretty gash on top of his eyebrow, still red and angry around the edges. He must have cured it himself. She sucked on his teeth as his hands went and wrapped around Simon's wrist, in an effort to make contact. They both stared at each other for a pretty minute before both stumbled across their own words, trying to figure out what had happened.

"What did..."

"That fucking arsehole, the cunt..."

"Simon, it's not..."

"Did he...?"

"No." They both remained silent. She had hurried the answer, not wanting for Simon to finish the question. "He didn't." Not this time. And it was true. This time it was true. Y/N had seen him reach for his buckle, but she had hurried away before he could do anything to her. Make her do anything to him.

Simon scanned her face for a second. "Good..." he whispered. There was nothing much else to say. He sorts of missed the days where she would rush over to him a crying mess, babbling, shaking with fear and anger and sadness and shock. These days Y/N would just sit next to him, sort of showed her wounds and then just...drink it away. There was nothing else in there. The light was already broken.

The ball of the bottle gagged up and down as Y/N drank a big gulp from it, the burning sensation on her throat long forgotten. Simon watched for a few seconds before deciding to look away, look to the abandoned park in front of them and just let her sit in silence for a while, figure out her emotions, how much pain she was in. If it was worth the cry.

Y/N leaned the bottle next to him and her fingers left the neck of it seconds before Simon picked it up, drank a little himself. She placed her elbows on her bent knees and sniffed the cold air of Manchester through her nose. Simon lazy eyes scanned her side. Perky nose, loose messy ponytail, tear eyed, glassy look. He sighed and shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure about himself but...he knew Y/N deserved better.

This wasn't like any of the other times. Once she was fierce, fiery, talking about how many things he would do to her stepfather if she ever gathered the courage to do it herself or let Simon take business in his own hands, but now she was quiet, and the lonely park was just an extension of her silence. Dead, and beautiful and familiar and comfortable.

He opened his mouth to say something, as he thought he should but Y/N, beautiful, forceful, trainwreck Y/N spoke first.

"You know I see us so far away from here? Sniff." She said with a watery tone in her speak. She looked at him before briefly looking at her torn boot. She sniffed again, holding back tears. "So far from Manchester, so far from that fucking neighborhood..."

"What?" He dared to say. "Wales?" They shared a very brief look before she shook her head.

"Out of fucking England, me and you..." she said, talking absently, more to herself, as if Simon wasn't there. "Away from Ethan, the cunt, and your bloody father. Away from this park..." Her voice was raising, and she didn't even realize she was close to shouting. Simon straightened up in his seat, alert.

"Oi..." he tried to interrumpt, hands up to stabilize her.

"Away from this fucking cold, and the leaky ceilings and, and my whore of a mother and... a-away from...away from that fucking house! Away from... FUCK, FUCK!" she ended screaming, as if it was a crescendo.

No one was around to hear it except Simon, and it tore his insides a little to see the vein in her neck pop out, to see her run out of breath, fisting her hands, face all red and angry. Her chest was going up and down, her rage bubbling inside her chest, from an angry red dissolving into a confusing and cold blue. She swallowed her tears, chest still in a rush and stared at him, biting her bottom lip, trying to contain herself.

It was seeing herself reflected in Simon's unsure, impressed face what broke her. Her brows furrowed, and her face contorted in a sob as Simon opened his arms to embrace her, whiskey bottle now forgotten next to them. Their cheap jackets rubbed against each other, sheltering the cold away from them, so thin their hearts could touch each other.

She had kneeled next to the boy now, almost crawled into his lap and it was only there that she allowed to...feel.

It was the loudest she had cried in years and again it was Simon's chest who sheltered, from the outside world, from the cold, from the dark of the park, from herself. From Ethan.

The girl leaned her cheek against his chest, pressing hardly, as if wanting to crawl into his ribcage. It had reached a point where she was that scared. Where she made sense out of it. She trembled and groaned, and cried, stopped for a few seconds shivering, while Simon rocked her slightly, confused, aware, terrified.

Was this the end? Was this what happened before the whole world went utterly to shit? Were they staring at the abyss and didn't even realize?

The girl trembling in his arms knew it was ending. Something had kicked inside her, her surviving instincts and, okay, if it came to it, he knew that Y/N would be the type of girl to survive a mass shooting, a natural disaster, any disaster really, but first...she was going to cry. She was a Manchester girl, a port girl, she was made to live in the waters.

"I see us so far away from here, Simon..." She repeated, her voice calmer, miles away from that park. "I need us far away from here." Y/N closed her eyes and frowned. "I still believe we deserve a kinder life than this..."

"Y/N..." he whimpered, holding her tight against his chest. "Where...?"

"Do you see it?" She asked, and Simon looked down to his chest, to her pressed cheek against his pectoral, his arms surrounding her small frame, his thumbs rubbing against her shoulders. Her eyes were staring at nothing, or at something very far away in the distance. "Simon, do you see it?"

Did he? What were they going to do now? Okay, out of Manchester, out of England. Then what? They were 18, just out of their mum's fannies, not a penny to their names, no one that gave a shit about them really. Did he really saw something out of that park, something that involved them both, safe, not starved, somewhere warm?

Nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Somewhere kinder.

He looked down to his chest, to her rosy cheeks, to the small patch of tears that stained his jacket, the icy forms her lips made due to the cold of her breath. A little dove nesting in his chest, a pair of bloody knuckles from bare knuckle fighting, holding her so softly. Simon's breath got caught up in his chest and he decided they will leave town the next day.

"Simon?" she asked, looking up, childish thick eyelashes, glossy stare, hopeful, terrified. "Do you see it?"

He nodded, hugged her tightly against him and felt her arms hugging him back for the first time in the night. She had moved into giving a part of herself, hugging back. She was in.

He kissed her temple, he dared, softly, wet, his eyes now also looking into the distance, to something that involved them both in a kinder place.

"I see it."

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can I ask for a sam wilson prompt with I want a family, and can it have smut and fluff please?

.⋆｡Build Our Nest｡⋆.

Sam Wilson x plus size reader

After spending the day caring for Cass and AJ, you and Sam realise that you want kids of your own.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, fluff

WC: 670

Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

3000 Follower Celebration

The Louisiana sun had been incredibly hot that day but it did nothing to dampen the spirits of your boyfriend’s nephews. They ran and played for a solid 12 hours before collapsing into their beds, too tired to even change into their pyjamas.

You smiled down at them as you tucked them in, ensuring that both were dead to the world. You gave each of them a kiss on their heads before cautiously walking out of their room, leaving the door open just an inch.

“They sleep like the dead, you don’t have to be so cautious.” A deep voice startled you. You squeaked in shock, only just managing to slam your hand over your mouth before you made any more noise. Sam stood at the end of the hall, laughing at you

“You asshole!” You hissed, “I’m trying to get into their good books!” With a light step, you traversed the short hallway, intent on slipping past your boyfriend but  evidently, he wasn’t going to let that slide. Sam grabbed your wide hips with his right hand and tugged you back into his strong chest.

You fought his hold for a moment but as his woodsy cologne washed over you, you slumped against him. “Buttercup, they like you more than they like me. I think you’re good.” He chuckled as he pressed a loving kiss to your hair and gave your side a firm squeeze. “Now, let’s get you home. I’ve been neglected all day and I think I deserve some lovin now.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah yeah, only if you open a bottle of wine.” 

“Whatever you want, buttercup.” He pecked your temple and guided you down the stairs with a chuckle.

With all the windows in your small home thrown open, a pleasant sea breeze fluttered over you and your boyfriend as you sat on your couch. Two empty wine glasses sat on the coffee table, their transparent surfaces stained red and yet neither of you made a move to go clean them.

Your lips were locked together in a kiss that had started off as one of your typical pecks but quickly heated to a full on make out as Sam grabbed the back of your head, keeping your lips against his. Something had gotten into your boyfriend and you weren’t complaining.

“Sam.” You moaned as his kisses travelled from your mouth to your jaw then travelled down to your neck, where he began to bite and nip at the delicate skin. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Just hoping I can get into you.” He murmured against your pulse while not-so-subtly pushing you back to lay down.

“Sam.” You said more firmly. He sighed.

“I want a family with you. You’re just so good with the boys and I kept thinking about how you would be with our kids.” His voice didn’t waver, he knew what he wanted and he wanted it now.

“Then take your pants off Captain, we’ve got some babies to make.” 

The next thing you knew, you were on your back, stripped down to nothing as Sam hovered over you, his big hands gripping your plush thighs. He pulled them over his hips, spreading your legs open for him. Your tongues tangled together as Sam tilted your lower body upwards, positioning the head of his bare cock at your entrance.

“Fuck!” He groaned into your ear. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your nails digging into his back as your ankles locked over his ass. “Buttercup you gotta relax, you’re too tight.”

“Feels too good. Need you to get me pregnant.” Sam’s hips bucked at your words, forcing his thick cock even deeper into you. You could feel him throbbing almost violently, as if he was about to cum. 

“You’re in for it now. There’s no way you aren’t going to have my baby after tonight.” He growled, pulling his hips back and slam forward again. “Get ready buttercup, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Bring it on.”

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[sharpbutsoft]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Hi Inell! Thank you for this 💞

I’ve got a terrible case of recency bias when it comes to reccing my own fics do I’ll try and include some older ones too!

Hi Does This Look Weird / 911 / Buddie / 1.6k / M

My first (& only) attempt at a texting fic/adding html to a fic and I’m still SO happy with how it turned out. Basically t’s circa s2 Buck&Eddie being absolutely normal friends & also platonic dick-pics! Yay!

Bangin’ / Stranger Things / Steve&Robin / 1k / T

A pre-S4 stock fic that I really enjoyed writing. They’re still one of my favourite platonic pairings & I loved writing this little moment between them as something of a connector between seasons.

Hate Me Harder / 911 / Taylucy / 3.5k / M

My beloved Taylor/Lucy bathroom hookup fic. They are the ultimate Sun/Moon gf rairpair to me PLUS after everything Buck put them through I think they deserve happiness. And each other.

Piece by Piece, Rubble to Rubble / 911 / Chris!Pov & Buddie / 6k / T

This fic was such a challenge to write but I think it really paid off and I’m so happy with how it turned out. That kid needs to know about the will, like, yesterday!

Stained and Broken Glass / 911 / Eddie!Centric / 8k / T

This fic was so fun to write! I love characters who absolutely cannot ever say what they mean and Eddie & Helena are in competition to see who can say the least!! Also featuring Buck & Ramon bonding and pickle superiority.

[visceravalentines]

I'm So Dirty, Babe

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

This ain't perfect but by god I'm sick of looking at it!! This is a love story about two normal people and it's fine. Sike, this is fucknasty gross vile bullshit porn that grew legs and ran away. Some mornings, Bo gets up early to work out. You really like seeing him sweat, and he really likes making you suffer. Originally inspired by this post if you squint.

4.2k words. Established "relationship" with a GN!reader so far gone their legal name has been changed to Stockholm. Bo is an ass but also is catching feelings (don't tell him). Horrible toxic relationship dynamics. Penetrative rough sex. Predator/prey dynamics & chasing. Choking. Degradation. Biting. Daddy kink. Super duper blood kink. Excessive mention of sweat and spit and body hair. Threat of orgasm denial. Creampie. Reader is so so brainwashed and so down bad (the call is coming from inside the house).

You set an alarm the night before, right after he told you he’d be up early to work out.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t because of him. 6:30 AM was a perfectly reasonable time to wake up. Sure, the sun wasn’t up yet. And no, you didn’t have anything in particular to get done that early. And yes, fine, you knew exactly when he’d be wrapping up his workout because he was shockingly punctual, a creature of habit.

But it wasn’t because of him.

You brushed your teeth and fixed your hair because that’s what people do in the morning. You filled a travel mug with coffee and milk and dumped a heap of protein powder into it plus a tablespoon of sugar because that’s how he liked it. You knew that’s how he liked it because your health and happiness hinged on keeping him content and for no other reason at all.

The assemblage of dirty glasses on the counter rattled with the sheer volume of bass pounding in the garage. You thought you could make out the hoarse vocals of Rob Zombie through the mud room door. Some days, he came out of his workout flush with endorphins and something akin to civil. Others, it was like the testosterone transmuted his blood to vinegar and he would burst through the door frothing at the mouth.

You told yourself you hoped for the former, and this was mostly true. But there was something about the latter – that sneer, the attitude that came with it. He hadn’t been nice to you in the beginning. He wasn’t exactly nice to you now. But you still felt…well. How you felt.

You knocked on the garage door even though you knew he couldn’t hear it, but as long as you tried, sometimes that was enough. Cautiously, you opened the door and ducked inside.

The garage was in no better condition than the rest of the house, the walls hemmed in by shelving and laden with dusty relics of the last fifty years. A car had not been housed in this space since before you were born. In the middle of the floor, a few mismatched squares of castoff carpet had been laid over the permanent oil stains in the concrete. A weight bench took up most of the space, along with a mismatched collection of dumbbells and a few other things.

Despite the chill weather outside, the air in here was warm and humid. The music was deafening in the small acoustic sinkhole, almost painful, but you knew better than to lay a finger on the boom box perched by the door. It was smaller than the one at the station, but it was one of the few things in the garage that was dust-free, and you knew it had been meticulously restored to functionality by hand time and time again. You could relate.

Bo was on his back in the middle of a bench press set and paid you absolutely no mind as you came in. With every lift his lip curled in a snarl. You took his focus as an opportunity to ogle him with abandon.

He was wearing sweatpants and a wifebeater with holes in the fabric. His triceps rolled with every press, stomach taut, feet planted wide. You had been reminded time and again he was stronger than he looked, and that came with effort. Even from where you stood you could see the tank top was soaked with sweat, the hair of his underarms damp and curly.

The final two reps were a struggle from which you could not look away. Arms quivering, he racked the barbell with a grunt and sat up, slumping forward with his elbows on his knees. His hair was plastered to his forehead, lips parted as he caught his breath. He lifted his head and spat on the ground and much to your chagrin, you felt a response in your jeans.

He growled some remark at you that was inaudible over the music. You jumped to attention, quit your staring as he rose to his feet and wheeled to face you. Face flushed and scowling, he stalked towards you and you stood your ground. Even after all this time, after everything, a thrill shot through your stomach when he came at you like that, fear and arousal inextricably linked.

You averted your gaze from his face and had the misfortune of landing your focus directly on the outline of his dick against his left thigh. You released a desperate puff of air and scrambled to recall how it felt to have self-respect.

The music cut with a punch of his finger and left a vacuum of silence in its wake. He was so close you could smell the testosterone coming off him in waves. He was still breathing hard. “Did you hear what I said?” he snapped.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Fuckin’ knock next time.”

“Okay, I will.” You handed him the coffee.

He eyed you distrustfully. “What’s this?”

“It’s your…protein coffee. Whatever you call it.” You could feel the heat radiating from his body, practically taste the salt on his skin when you inhaled through your mouth.

“Ain’t you helpful this mornin’.” He turned halfway away from you and took a swig from the thermos. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. It mattered to you – so much – that he approved of the concoction.

Without a word, he handed it back to you. The blood vessels in his arms were swollen and bulging and you had the fleeting thought that you’d like to trace them with your tongue. Then he reached past you, and you flinched in spite of yourself, and he caught it, and he smirked but didn’t say anything. He grabbed a hoodie off a hook just behind you and threw it over his shoulder.

“C’mon.”

The single careless word may as well have been a handwritten invitation embossed with glitter. You grabbed another jacket from the hook and tried not to follow too close behind him as he picked his way between the lawnmower and a credenza from the 60s and hauled the garage door open by hand.

The sound of rusty, reluctant metal startled the birds into silence. Bo loped down the drive, his breath pluming soft and white in the air. It was a mild winter as far as you were concerned, but it was winter nonetheless, and you shoved your free hand deep into the pocket of the jacket. It was his, of course, and it smelled like him. You told yourself you were burying your nose in the collar for warmth, that’s all.

You trailed four feet behind him, still struggling to pinpoint how he felt about you this morning. He stretched his arms up, bent them behind his head, and it pulled the hem of his wifebeater up to expose a strip of skin just above his waistband. Your eyes flicked back and forth between it and the back of his head. You wanted to bite him, bite and suck, hands on his hips, you on your knees –

“Gimme that.” He was reaching back for the thermos. You trotted up, the most obedient little show dog, and handed it to him. He took another sip and you smiled.

He thrust it back into your hands and now you hung by his side, taking a step and a half for every one of his. When he tugged the hoodie off his shoulder you scampered out of the way so he had room to pull it on. He tossed his head, flicking sweat in the other direction, and pushed his hair back. You handed him the thermos; he drank and handed it back; it was slick under your fingers.

You were pathetic.

Together you strolled down Main Street. He paid you no mind, scanning the deadeyed homes and storefronts for any change, any overnight imperfection. Everything always looked the same to you, but you figured after decades spent staring at the same town he probably knew how many shingles were on every last goddamn roof. You could respect that, admire it even. It proved he had the capacity to care for things. Perhaps you held that a little too close to your heart.

He paused in front of one of the houses near the end of the road and exhaled sharply through his nose, hands on his hips, shaking his head. You squinted slightly as you examined the facade, searching for whatever it was he could see.

“Fuckin’ again,” he muttered. “Every year.”

You furrowed your brow. The house looked the same as it ever did to you.

“Gonna take me all mornin’ to fix that.”

Bemused, you nodded obediently and offered him the thermos like a trained monkey. He gulped the rest of it down and thrust it back into your grasp. For the first time all morning, he looked directly at you. You squared your shoulders to bear the weight of his stare and tried to keep your eyes off his lips. You failed; you were always failing. His jaw was dark with morning stubble.

“You’re up early,” he remarked like he had only just noticed you. “Got somethin’ to do with yourself for once?”

You shrugged noncommittally. You kept busy most days, what with the state of abject horror the house was usually in, but that was none of his concern. “Nothing special. Just…wanted to make you coffee.”

He made a sound of derision. “Well ain’t you a saint.”

You rubbed your thumb against the thermos. “How was your workout?”

Bo shot you the sort of look most people reserved for unexpected insects in their living space. “Life-changin’.” He scratched a spot on his chest.

You stared at the patch of hair visible above his neckline for half a second too long, and when you looked back up he was laser focused on you. “That’s good,” you said lamely.

He cocked his eyebrow. You felt spotted, like a small creature in a field.  You felt seen.  Something changed, something subtle in his expression that you couldn’t name but could sense like a shift in the wind. “Coulda used a little cardio.” He moved half a step towards you. “Think you could help me with that, sugar?”

You chewed on your lip, then nodded. He smiled.

“Swell. Put that down.”

You bent slowly, eyes on him, and set the thermos on the concrete with a soft tink.

“Stand back up, baby, c’mon. I can’t do all the thinkin’ for you.”

You stood, clenching and unclenching your cold fingers, waiting. Always waiting. He regarded you for a moment with a curious look on his face, the way you might consider a stranger in the mall you thought you recognized from somewhere.

And then his expression went blank the way a cloud passes over the sun, and your blood burned like ice, and he levelled a glare at your head like a gun and said, “G’on. Run.”

You were off before the mist from his mouth could dissipate. It had been a while since you played this game. It was a good one, with simple rules. And really, in the end, you both won.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw he hadn’t moved yet. He was feeling generous apparently; you both knew he was faster than you. Already you were out of breath, the frigid air lacerating your throat and lungs. Maybe you needed some cardio too, you thought absently.

You kicked up your heels and darted around the corner, wanting to make him work for it. You liked to watch him work.

Once upon a time, you would’ve run for the highway. You even used to believe you could make it. You never got close, not once. On this mundane morning, the thought didn’t even cross your mind.

You couldn’t keep up the pace for long and you slowed at an intersection. In your mind you tried to conjure up your faulty map of Ambrose proper – should you turn left? – but the sound of pounding footfalls behind you tore the map to shreds and you bolted.

He caught up to you quickly. You were just ahead of him, you could feel it, hear the emphysemal rasp of his panting. The seconds until he had you were dropping like flies. Too easy. It was too easy.

In a move that surprised you both, you skidded to a stop, lurched to the side, and hopped over the hedgerow of the little bungalow to your left. You were shocked you made it. He was shocked you even tried.

Your small victory was short-lived as your sneakers slipped on the frosty grass and you went down hard, landing directly in the half-thawed patch of mud at the mouth of the rain gutter and the foot of the porch.

Bo coughed out a bonechilling amalgam of a laugh, a snarl, and a curse. You would’ve laughed too, had you not been halfway certain you were about to die. Scrambling to your feet, you just managed to dodge his grasp and wheeled off-balance up the porch steps.

To your relief, the door was unlocked and you darted inside. To your horror, it had no lock. You leaned all your weight against the door, palms stinging, teeth rattling as he flung his weight against it.

“Shit, little piggy, you’re really in for it now.”

A thrill of fear shot right through you. You hoped so. Fuck, you really did.

Wildly you searched for your next move, but you’d never been in this house before and couldn’t begin to guess the layout. An exit did not miraculously present itself to you. He didn’t like it if you just gave up.

But he did like a fight.

Acting on instinct, you stepped to the side. Bo burst through the door, flinging it wide – and you caught it and slammed it right back into his face.

He yelped, and then he roared, yanking the door from your grip and slamming it shut as he grabbed you by the throat and hauled you into the living room. Blood streamed from his nose and he flung you on your back onto the couch.

“You wanna play, darlin’? We can fuckin’ play!”

He was on you with his full weight in seconds, one hand wrapped around your jaw, the other scrabbling at your fly. You gasped as his wrist crushed your windpipe, whimpered and clutched at his forearm, bucked your hips in a half-assed attempt to throw him off. Thinly veiled excitement was pounding in your chest, anticipation pooling in your mouth. 

He saw right through you. He always did. “Look at you,” Bo sneered, his teeth smeared red. “Fuckin’ starry-eyed. You’re some kinda somethin’, ain’tcha.”

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed.

He thrust his hand into your underwear and you whined. “You ain’t sorry,” he said. “Don’t lie to me.”

You ground up into his fingers, frantic with need. “Please...please please ple – “

He smashed his lips into yours and your mouth opened eagerly to receive him, tongue awash with the taste of his blood and spit and coffee. You were making such helpless sounds, writhing as he groped at your sex, dragging your dirty nails across his skin as you pushed down the waistband of his sweats.

He was hard; he was huge. He had the prettiest dick you’d ever seen. You reached for him and he slapped your hand away with force. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” He pushed his fingers into your mouth and hooked them around your bottom teeth, pulling your head and forcing your gaze. “Watch.”

He wrapped his free hand around the base of his shaft and rubbed your arousal along the length of his cock, squeezing a lopsided bead of precum from the tip. You moaned and he flashed you a smirk. “Y’want it?”

“Uh-huh,” you gargled around his fingers.

“Y’think you deserve it?”

“Uh-uh.” You managed a miniscule shake of your head.

“That’s right.” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and slid them into your desperate hole. You keened, back arching off the couch. “Since I’m so sweet I’m gonna give it to ya anyway. Ain’t I sweet?”

You nodded like your life depended on it.

Breathing wetly, he snorked in the back of his throat and spat a wad of blood and phlegm on the mint green carpet, and then fixed his piercing gaze back on you. He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance and your breath hitched in your throat.

In a brief moment of near sanity, you wondered if maybe you were a lost cause even before you met him. Maybe you had always had a grit to your soul. Maybe you’d always been a little bit dirty.

And then he was seizing your hips and forcing himself into you, brutal, all the way all at once, and you had the final fleeting thought before your brain fuzzed blank that it didn’t matter how you used to be, because these days you were his, and you were filthy.

Your body clutched at him, greedy and grateful, as he slid into place. Sheathed deep inside you, he stifled a groan, sucking the blood off his lips. He gripped the back of your thighs and pressed your knees to your chest, bracing himself unsteadily on the couch cushion and jackhammering into you with a vengeance.

Your mouth fell open and he shoved your legs further apart so he could deliver another crushing kiss, pulling hard on your bottom lip. You clawed at the swell of his biceps, toes curled, heart racing. 

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut, huh? Beggin’ for it all mornin’ like a bitch in heat.” You nodded feverishly, made some sound in the affirmative. “Fuckin’ shameless. You like bein’ a slut for me?”

“Yes,” you mewled, and you meant it. 

Gasping, you clawed your fingers through his sweaty curls, gripping, twisting. You wanted to hold him. You wanted to make it hurt. You yanked him back to your lips, smothering a grin when his busted nose hit your cheekbone and he grunted, low and irritated in the back of his throat, and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your side.

This was the only time your relationship approached anything resembling fairness, when he tried his best to claim everything you had and you fought to give it to him faster than he could take it. Because if you gave him enough, sometimes, he gave you a little back.

You lapped at the roof of his mouth like a starving creature. You were so hungry for him all the time with an ache like you’d never known. It was as if you’d inherited the hollow space inside him, like he’d infected you with emptiness. The only remedy available to you was more of him, all of him, as much as he would surrender. Maybe someday it would be sufficient. Maybe if you could consume enough of him, he’d be yours. 

Bo pushed your face away and raked his teeth along the flesh of your neck, biting and sucking. Your legs were quivering, your hole clenching helplessly against the punishing saw of his hips. The smell of his sweat was thick in your nostrils. His tongue slid up the side of your throat to your earlobe and one hand snaked down between your bodies to paw at your aching sex. Ribbons of electricity rippled through your core. A cry like a lonesome animal tore from your throat and you squeezed his waist between your thighs. 

“You gonna cum?” he panted, almost taunting. 

“N-no,” you whispered. Not yet. Too soon. He might not even let you since you made him bleed.

“No?” You could see his pulse thrumming fast in his neck. “You sure about that?”

He knew your body so well, too well. It was getting harder to focus by the second, sparks shooting under your skin. “Can – can I?” You met his eyes. His pupils were blown, his expression almost manic. “Please, Daddy?”

His lip curled in what could’ve been a smile or a sneer, cracking the veneer of dried blood on his cheek. “You been bad, baby.”

“I’m – I know.” The friction of his fingers was borderline painful, scratching some deep and desperate itch that set your nerves on fire. Not yet.

“Someone oughta punish you, huh?” he said through gritted teeth. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, knew he was close. Knew he wanted it as bad as you did. “Oughta leave you – fuckin’ – miserable.”

You splayed your hands on his chest in supplication. You were dancing on the edge, dangling over it, scrabbling for a few more seconds. “I know, Daddy, but I – I can be good. Please let me be good.”

You felt the panicked squeezing of your walls around his cock and you could tell he felt it too by the way his breath dead-ended in his throat, the half-crazed look on his face. 

“I want to be good for you, please let me cum for you, please, I want – “

His whole frame shuddered and you had him. With immense satisfaction, you watched his eyes roll back, watched him come apart on top of you, and in that moment he belonged to you. You came hard, absolute euphoria, every last inch of you a spitting, crackling livewire.

For the moment, you were sated.

Bo lowered his body flush to yours on trembling arms. He pressed his forehead to your sternum, breathing hard and hot against your skin. You never acknowledged these perfect minutes in the aftermath because you knew that would put them to an immediate end. His post-coital proximity was never for your benefit, and that was okay. You wound and unwound a lock of his hair around your finger, tugging on it sharply now and again, because he would only accept your sidelong affection if it came with a sting. 

You could do that for him. It wouldn’t be the hardest thing. 

He lifted his head at last and scrutinized you. Dried blood flaked off the bottom half of his face and the bridge of his nose was red and swollen. His hair stood up in all directions. “You’re a mess, darlin’,” he said flatly. 

You didn’t doubt it. You could feel his spend drying between your legs. When you licked your lips you tasted copper. 

Bo stood up slowly, grimacing at the change of pressure in his head and sniffing gingerly to clear his nose. He heeled off his sneakers and kicked off his sweatpants, then made his way across the room towards the stairs, shrugging off his hoodie, stripping his wifebeater over his head, and dropping both to the floor. Your eyes tracked slow and appreciative down the length of his body.

“Don’t be long,” he said over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. “Can’t let you back in the house lookin’ like that.”

You let out a sigh of something akin to contentment and listened to the creak of his footsteps across the ceiling. The groan of water through bedraggled pipes kicked up soon after. 

Carefully you peeled yourself off the couch and stood on wobbly legs, the warm wet trickle of triumph seeping down your thighs. You shed your clothes in a breadcrumb trail across the carpet, casting a glance at the wide-open windows. Even if there had been a soul in town to see you, you had no shame to offer anymore. 

You hauled yourself up the stairs, taking in the faded photographs still mounted on the walls, the ancient and odorless bowl of potpourri on a small table in the hallway. The air was years old, stale and musty. It was a quaint, cozy little house underneath all the dust. You peeked into a bedroom with windows draped in lace curtains. The bedclothes were marred with a rust-colored stain as big as you. You eased the door almost all the way shut and moved on.

The sound of the shower came from the room at the end of the hall. You pushed the door open and crept into a steam-filled bathroom tiled green and white. The slap of water rolling off his body to smack the floor of the tub was loud in the tiny space. There was a framed cross stitch on the wall of a goose and three goslings. You stared at the shower curtain for a moment before turning to the vanity.

With a squeak, you wiped the fog from the mirror and looked at yourself. He was right, you were a mess. Your cheeks were smudged with his blood, lips puffy, hair disheveled, throat a mosaic of bruises and hickies. You examined your hands, palms scraped up and scuffed with dirt. His skin was under your nails. You stank of sweat and sex. 

Someone had told you once that love left a mark.

“You comin’ in?”

You smiled at your reflection. Were you happy?  You might be happy.

“Yeah.”

You slipped into the shower and his begrudging embrace.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This wedding cake house is an 1886 Victorian in Galveston, TX. It has 3bds, 5ba, and is listed for $1.4M. It's been restored. Let's take a look inside.

The wood! Look at the floor! Love the striped wallpaper, too. This is gorgeous.

Lovely sitting room with an alcove. Look at the Texas stars in the floor.

I can't fault the kitchen remodel. It's spectacular. Look at the beautiful cabinetry, the floor and the sunny dining area.

Lovely formal dining dining room with beautiful original fireplace.

Such an elegant home with so much attention to detail.

Love the way they did this shower room. Original restored wood, reproduction Victorian toilet and sink, plus I love how the modern glass shower basically disappears.

Mini library by the stairs.

Beautiful upstairs hall has doors to a terrace.

Large bedroom with fireplace and pocket doors.

This bath is incredible. Look at the wood, the sink and the floor. Love the wallpaper, too.

Judging by the number of beds in the bedrooms, they've been renting it out as an Airbnb. It's too beautiful for that. It needs a family to cherish it.

Elegant bath.

Cute kid's room in a sun room off a parent's bedroom.

See the luggage rack next to the fabulous French stove?

Rear stairway is just as elegant with stained glass windows.

Patio. The grounds are lovely.

The carriage house is a separate residence.

It's a cute 2 bd. home.

10,300 sq ft lot.

https://www.redfin.com/TX/Galveston/1826-Sealy-St-77550/home/110712542

[theanonwriter]

friends close, enemies closer: part 1

A/N: hey guys!! i’m starting this JJ fic bc i am currently obsessed with outerbanks and wanna live my hot girl fantasy! join me if you want ;) LOTS OF LOVE!

-

Summary: When your parents unexpectedly become wealthy from good investments, you're forced to leave your old life in the Cut and move to Figure Eight.  Right when you finally start to move on (thanks to the help of your best friend, Sarah Cameron), your old friends are suddenly forced into your life again. Getting comfortable with them means discovering their new lives and making amends for the past. And just when things couldn't possibly get any more complicated, you have to deal with your lingering feelings with a certain hot-headed blond. 

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: just swearing for this one!

-

You hated lunch at Kildare Preparatory Academy. It wasn’t that it was bad or anything, but it was certainly not good. There was no added butter, no oil, and obviously no love. It all tasted like it would have been sold downtown, at one of the new juice bars or vegan cafes. 

Sarah didn’t seem to mind, though. She was digging into her panini and pasta salad, gossiping with you as you sat at a table in the sun. You listened in silence, letting the warmth cover your bare legs. You were glad you met her. There was always a cliche in movies that the pretty, popular girl bullied the introverted new girl. But that wasn't true. Sarah accepted you into her circle. She invited you to parties, showed you the cool way to plait your hair, and made Kooks see you as one of them, rather than a Pogue whose parents hit it big.

Even though moving schools during freshman year was hard, it was moments like this that made you glad that your family made it. Kildare County High School was a mess, falsely beautified by newly lacquered gym floors and covered in finger-print-smudged windows. Kildare Prep was gorgeous, wrapped in ivy with Tiffany blue glass stained windows. You sighed contentedly and opened your eyes again to find Sarah staring at you. 

“I have something to tell you.” She announced, looking like she would burst. You raise your eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to spill whatever it was that had been weighing on her mind. “I started seeing someone.”

You wanted to pretend that you were shocked, but you weren't. Sarah had a bad history with men. The bad part being how fast she went through them. 

“I know what you’re thinking: ‘Sarah, another one?’ I know! But I actually really like him. He’s not like anyone else I know.”

You grin at your friend, seeing the blush rise on her cheeks. You send her a knowing smile. Witnessing Sarah giddy with excitement was a special kind of happiness. “Who is it?”

Her smile faded slightly, and she took a deep breath. “Well, it’s- hm. It’s…John Routledge.” You open your mouth to burst in, but she quickly talks over you. “I know! I know you know each other, and I know you’re gonna be so pissed, but it’s different! He is so sweet, and he just understands me, like everything that's going on with Rafe and Dad." She pauses briefly and searches your eyes. "You know I’m right. You would know better than anyone.” 

You knew all too well. Before your family earned big on investments your dad made, you used to live right next to John B. He, along with Pope Heyward and JJ Maybank used to be your best friends. You spent all day together, fishing and surfing, getting so sunburnt that you couldn't walk. They were always there for you, no matter what.

After you moved, it was radio silence from them. Not that you wanted it to be, but they never reached out after you left their side of the island. Ever since then, you became a stranger to them.

“Sarah.” Is all you say, mouth left hanging open. You can't help but stare at her. 

“Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.” She deadpans, a slight smirk extending across her face. “Plus, tell me that you never miss them. This could be good for you!”

“And if you break up?”

“Then nothing will change! You don’t talk at all. Please, Y/N, don’t be mad at me.”

Her reaction takes you back. Being mad never even crossed your mind. Shock that she would even hang out with Pogues, yes, but never anger.

“Mad? I’m not mad. I’m…I want to be happy for you. It might just take me some time to warm up to them again.” You reply, stealing a piece of pasta salad off Sarah’s plate with your fingers. You scowl as you taste the vinegar, far too strong for your liking.

“Then why don’t you hang out with us this weekend? Just to get you comfortable with them again. I've never met his friends, and I want you there. You’ll see, he’s so mature now. Plus, he’s hot too!”

Hot? That was never the word you would associate with John B. Nerdy and kinda bashful maybe, but definitely not the "hot" boy in the group.

“Ew! If I say yes, will you stop bugging me about a boy I grew up with, who at one point was practically my brother?”

She laughs out loud, arms spread wide and face set towards the sun. “Yes! I swear, I’ll be quiet forever!”

You grin at how happy she is. She looks so free like this, smiling at the sun with her golden hair practically blinding you. “I don't want you to be quiet forever. Just for now. And maybe for the next week."

-

The ride back home was slow. Sometimes, you wondered what life would have been like if you stayed in the Cut. Would your car be packed full of your old friends? Dopey boys changing the station, or a certain blond trying to light up in your front seat? Would your parents even be able to afford a second car at all? You feel like a loser thinking back on stuff that you can’t change now, but you can’t help it. What Sarah said to you weighed heavy on your mind today. What happened to the friendship you had with them?

You pulled into your lengthy driveway, spotting your brother's dusty car sitting in the garage. It was the end of May, so he would be coming back to the island soon. You missed him so much, it physically hurt you. 

With him home, there was only one thing left to wait for: summer. 

As much as you needed your days free, along with the ability to call your friends whenever to go get ice cream, summer only led to what you dreaded: college applications.

You didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life. How the hell would you? You were still a child, how could you figure out what you were supposed to do for the rest of your life? With your family's new wealth, your parents were very stubborn about the fact that you and your brother would go to a prestigious school where you would get a top-notch education.

However, that was not something you were interested in. Your brother went to school in Indiana, at Notre Dame University. They expected you to follow him. 

You wanted to stay local. Not commuter close, per se, but close enough that you could drive him if you needed more contacts or a new prescription. You couldn't stand to be far from the water, the only place that brought you stability and comfort. 

But your parents insisted that you would leave and see what else there was. So you would.

You parked your car and jogged up the stairs, kicking your shoes off and hanging up your backpack before heading to the outdoor shower to change into your wetsuit. In the warmer months, you taught younger kids how to surf in the afternoon. You loved the challenge of trying to get kiddos to not be spooked by the waves and going under. 

The beach had been the first place you and the Pogues had for yourself. Your parents were never there and there were no concerns about not having enough money to fill the boat with gas. Your surfboard was second-hand and coated in wax, but it was yours and that was enough. 

You used to all have matching anklets, constructed from pieces of sea junk and old rope found in John B’s surf shack. You lost yours swimming with Sarah the year before, but you wish you still had it. It was one of the only reminders you had of them. 

You changed quickly and headed to the beach. Lessons were exhausting, but the little girl that you taught today made you smile. She was six years old, and her name was Penny. She had long, blonde hair and shiny blue eyes, just like she was meant for the coast. She looked so similar to JJ, who was your absolute rock during your girlhood.

He was always at the beach at the same time you were. You never talked to him and he never even looked at you. He made you feel like there was never anything even there between you two, which hurt you more than you cared to acknowledge. Yes, you two had grown apart. But to act like a stranger? There was a point in your life where you would call JJ your brother, your best friend. Now you were nobody.

He was with John B and Pope, laughing and chilling on their boards in the water. Every now and then, you could see Pope splash at his friends, rolling his eyes when they said something idiotic. When a wave came by, they rode it together. You constantly saw them chuckling when they wiped out and help each other cough salt water out of their lungs. 

When John B caught your eye, he smiled a bit and waved. He always either nodded or half-smiled, but a wave was foreign to you. You grinned back shyly, unsure of how to respond. When the other two boys looked over at you, you suddenly felt like a target.

JJ did not seem as forgiving as John B. His eyes narrowed at you, scoffing a bit and mumbling something before he turned back to the group. 

Pope smirked at his comment, but John B did not seem impressed. You watched him yell at his best friend, and though you couldn't hear what he said over the waves, you could guess it wasn't nice. 

The fact that you knew they were not only making fun of you but arguing because of you, made you uneasy. The last thing you wanted was to create a rift in the friend group, as you knew how much they all depended on each other. You glanced around for Kie, but you couldn't find her. 

You guys had kept in touch when you both moved, but you never were the best of friends. You spoke at parties and occasionally you saw her strolling the boardwalk, but you never hung out. If you were honest, you were a bit jealous of her. Why wouldn't you be? She still had them. 

Growing up together as the only girls in a group of boys, you constantly were pitted against each other. Always being compared over everything, especially your looks, became tiring for both you. It wasn't either of your faults, but it created a barrier between the two of you. 

Soon enough, the class was over, and you could flee the beach. You practically ran home, desperate for a shower and dying to call Sarah and tell her what happened. 

The phone rang twice before she picked up the call. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?”

You switched your board from under your left arm to your right, and readjusted your phone. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need to tell you what just happened because I’m like, kinda geeked.”

You described the situation to her, breaking in the middle to let Sarah ask her most pressing question: Which board shorts was John B wearing? The blue ones with the suns or the stripes?

“Well, I’m glad he stuck up for you. I’m confused though. I've heard that JJ was nice. Maybe he was having a bad day? Or maybe he wasn't even talking about you.”

You puff out your cheeks and let out a deep breath. “I don’t know man, he seemed pretty pissed at me.”

“Well, there's nothing you can do about it now. Hey, are you coming to the club tonight? There's that barbeque for Memorial Day that my parents are making me go to.” Sarah asked, shutting the door to her closet and walking down the hallway. You heard Ward in the background questioning her, but she muted and gave you the "one-sec" motion before she answered him. 

You texted her that you were gonna hang up, but that your parents were also forcing you to go so you could suffer together. You made a fart noise into the speaker before you pressed the little red button, and laughed to yourself at the thought of Sarah hearing that as she squabbled with her dad. 

By the time you made it to the club, Sarah had already finished her food. She rolled her eyes as she saw you speedwalk to the table with your plate in hand. She took a long sip of her lemonade as she examined you up and down. “Well, at least you look good.”

“Shut up. I had work,” you reply, sliding into the chair next to hers and placing a napkin on your lap. “Plus, most of the food was gone. There was like, nothing left.”

“Maybe you shouldn't have been late then! I don’t know, just a thought.” Sarah mocked, laughing at your side-eye. “Hey, real talk though. I need some advice.”

“What?” You ask, covering your mouth with your hand as you chowed down on your pulled pork sandwich. 

“Well, John B said that when we all hang out Kie is gonna come. And it’s not that I don’t wanna see her, it's just that- well, I guess I don't wanna see her.”

“Why?” 

You knew why. Everyone knew why. You really hoped their beef wouldn't make the reunion any more awkward than it already would be. 

“It ended so badly between us. She literally left school because of me. I was such a bitch.” Sarah sighed, pushing some of her golden hair over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” You laughed, raising your eyebrows at her. “Sarah, be real. Do you think he would invite her if she was gonna make it a big deal?” 

She cocked her head to the side, eyes searching for something on the pristine golf course before shaking her head. 

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Exactly. You worry too much. If I can do it, you can too. My situation is worse, I’d say.”

Sarah giggled and drained the rest of her drink. “Yeah, probably. Hey, are you seriously okay about hanging with them? I know it might be a little awkward.”

Honestly, you didn't want to go back to them. It would be painful, to hear their inside jokes that you no longer had any idea about and re-acquainting yourself with the life that could have been yours. As much as you loved the life your parents has built for you, there were times that you missed the easygoing nature of the Cut and evenings at the Chateau with Big John. 

 “It’ll be more than a little awkward at first. I mean, JJ can’t even look at me and Pope can’t help but to laugh at JJ’s snide comments. But I’ll do it for you.”

“What do you remember about them? JJ and Pope?” Sarah asks, pulling her cardigan tighter around her tan shoulders as the wind started to wind up.

“Well, Pope is a genius. Always has been. Kind of a suck-up, but that’s just him. He’ll always help out if he can, and he’s super genuine. I honestly don’t think there's a bad bone in his body.” You stop and take a deep breath. You didn’t really like to allow yourself to think of them too often. “And JJ, he’s-”

“You used to like him, didn’t you? I feel like I remember you saying that.”

You instantly blushed at Sarah's words. You had drunkenly told her that one night during one of your “ladies' nights”. In other words, you each stole a bottle of wine from your parents and got wine drunk. 

“Well, yeah kinda. I guess. It was strange. He was my best friend. He was always there for me, especially when my dad was going through it. We were similar in a lot of ways. He was proud and courageous. He taught me how to surf on a board he stole from a random tourist. He said the most out-of-pocket shit, but somehow when he says it, it’s just funny.  He’s so fucking funny.” You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. When Sarah notices, she grabs your hand. 

“Sorry if that was too much, we can stop. I know it’s hard for you.”

You watch the sun disappear under the water, the sky filling with oranges and light pinks while the steady May breeze brushes over your skin. You felt Sarah's head lean on your shoulder, and you placed yours on top of her own. 

“You are the best person I could have ever hoped would come into my life. I love you.” Sarah sighed, feeling the smile grow on her face from where she was propped on your shoulder. 

“Love you more.” You replied back, watching your father play golf with other men of the club as you soaked up the lays rays of the holiday sun. 

[rom-e-o]

So, I'm curious:

The Girlfriend Effect on guys' wardrobes, appearance, style. overall look--do we think this affects the Twins? And if so, how? The only thing I can think of is... idk--the girls help them find more comfortable clothes for casual settings and more comfortable formal clothes that still look fancy? Maybe just expanding upon their current wardrobes? IDK.

Oh, interesting!!!

I feel like they already have a grasp on 'aesthetically-pleasing' fashion. Sure, they penny-pinched for a long time, but their basic outfits and suits were pretty...safe. Plain, but timeless.

So, with the gorls now with them, I feel like they'd come around so just a more...individual aesthetic, especially when it comes to fancier clothes (like you said). Now, they have a date they can pair with. Match with. After the girls, they wear actual colors (goodbye solid-neutral closet!). They get clothes tailored rather than buying 'off the rack.' For casual clothes, I think they allow themselves to be a little more laid back, ironically, than when they were single. They feel so safe with their girls, they don't need to always look prim in perfect linen pajamas and a dressing gown. Plus, the more casual clothes they have, the more casual clothes there are for the ladies to steal, and they do adore that sight. (Bess not only wearing Wolf's leather jacket, but also his softer, worn business conference T-shirts; Connie wearing Adonis' boxers as sleep shorts? They ascend every time.)

Oh, and if the Girlfriend Effect can extend to home decor, THAT'S where I see the ladies really shining. Curtains, bedsheets, wallpaper, knickknacks, new furniture. ("That window in your study...what if it was stained glass to block the sun? Oh, wouldn't that be gorgeous?") It's all things each man likes and definitely fits each's aesthetic taste, but the ladies just help them embrace it and bring it out.