#so like if he's off to the side and smoking

[adventuringblind]

The Thrill of It (1.8K Words)

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Street Racer AU, Smut

Summary: Sometimes the boys come back from races a little riled up, it doesn't help tonight that they get a bit possessive when someone lays a hand on what's theirs.

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, public sex, exhibitionist Lando, Sub reader, Dom Oscar, Oral, face-fucking, Hair pulling (?), minor degradation, Oscar being stressed after because AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT OKAY

Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I think this is the most lewd smut I've ever done... But reminder that comments and filling my inbox with nice things motivates me to write!!

Side Note: MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The lights amongst the crowd flitted about in shades of neon. The people are rowdy tonight on the sides of the street. All of them handing off their cash to each other to bet on which driver they think will win. 

It’s a dangerous game with no medic on scene. She supposes that’s the thrill of it. Knowing there may be no return once they put their foot on the pedal.

Lando and Oscar are practically swimming in the cash now. While she isn’t in the spotlight, they certainly are. These are their streets. They know Woking like the back of their hands now. 

Lando says he drives by feeling where Oscar has a map of the turns memorized. It speaks volumes about their character.  

You’d think these idiots would stop betting so much on other drivers. She’s been here enough times to know they never learn. Always lured into a false sense of hope. She doesn’t mind it, simply finds it funny. 

She finds herself entranced by the sounds of the engines, the people chanting their names. She sees other people oggle the two, hands becoming a bit more than friendly as the night progresses and alcohol is consumed.

A car pulls below her hiding spot. The second car driven, a truck she can sit in the bed of when things get overwhelming and the people too much. 

Those friendly hands tend to slip when they see a pretty stranger. Boundary lines are crossed. Another thing they should know by now: Oscar and Lando are the kings of these streets and it’s best not to mess with their queen. 

The bed of the truck shakes as they climb in with her. Their faces are half hidden in the dark. The other is illuminated by intermittent flashing lights. 

 Lando looks all too happy about the stunt he just pulled. A dangerous thing that could have killed him if not done right. The adrenaline has his pupils dilated. “Don’t think he’ll be coming back again. Gave him a run for his money… Liturgy!” 

“Literally-” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant - Literally!” 

She tilts her head back and laughs. Drunk off the atmosphere of the night and maybe the fumes of whatever people have been smoking all night. “Scared him off then?” 

“You know it baby!” Lando latches right onto her exposed neck with his teeth for all of two seconds before Oscar is dragging him off. It leaves them both whining. “Osc! I’m doing things!” 

“You’re doing our things.” The dehumanizing language should not have her this hot and bothered, in Woking, in October. She’s wearing a skirt with nothing aside from panties underneath and one of Oscar’s zip-ups with a tank top. Not the best choice of clothing all things considered, but she could care less. Not when it gives them easy access when they are all riled up like this.

Oscar drags her into his lap. The feeling of strong thighs underneath her in almost the right spot has her whimpering. “Didn’t realize you’re already so needy for us darling. Forgot how much seeing us drive turns you on.” 

She nearly cries when Oscar pulls her underwear to the side and slips a finger through her slit. “Look at this Lan! She’s a mess already!” Oscar’s free hand grips Lando by the collar and pulls him closer; nearly choking him out in the process. When his fingers are pulling obscene sounds from her, he brings them away. Up towards Lando’s mouth which unlatches to suck on them eagerly. 

The Brits eyes roll back as Oscar jams four fingers down the back of his throat just for the sake of it. “S’pose you’ve earned it tonight, Lan. You’re already a mess anyhow and I think you’ve been leaking since you got out of the car.” 

Lando mumbles something around Oscar’s fingers. It’s unintelligible - or she’s too lost in her haze to comprehend anything. Having slotted down on Oscar’s thigh to get some kind of friction. 

The sound of Lando’s belt buckle coming undone becomes louder than the engines. Then the wet sound of lips clashing together. The hand Oscar previously had in Lando’s mouth is now around his neck. 

The same story time and time again. Lando goes by feel where Oscar exudes superiority in how he has them memorized. 

She clocks the hand on her waist moving to the back of her head. Oscar switches to kiss her instead. The filthy kind - all tongue and teeth. It keeps her occupied long enough for Lando to shimmy his boxers just far enough down. 

“I knew you were leaking.” Lando makes a weak noise at that. Oscar’s words seem to have that effect on him. Both of them - really. “I bet you like showing off for all these people, huh? The possibility of us being caught like this. You get off on the thrill.”

The boys help her reposition her boy. Oscar gets two of his fingers in her, hovering just above Lando’s cock. Which - to Oscar’s credit - He’s not wrong. Lando is leaking like a faucet that has a consistent drip. It is mesmerizing and should be illegal. 

Oscar gets a third in her, dutifully stretching her open despite having to support her weight. Lando thrusts into the air out of impatience which earns a lovely smack to the side of his ass. “You should know better, Love, that all good things come with time.”

She feels empty for all of two seconds before her body is plunging down onto Lando’s cock. She can feel him twitching behind her - trying to remain still until given the go-ahead to move. His hands paw at the slope of her back and curve of her ass. 

In front of her, Oscar is undoing his own belt. She should’ve realized sooner how he had positioned them. How the truck bed is conveniently long enough to let Lando work out his residual energy by thrusting into her while Oscar makes use of her mouth. 

He’s always three moves ahead of them. 

She leans down, ready for him without him even having to ask. “Spit,” He commands. She does it without hesitation. 

Oscar makes use of the makeshift lube and gives himself a few strokes before motioning her forward. She unhinges her jaw and relaxes her throat and still - she gags. 

“See Lando, patience works wonders.” 

“Please Osc, please - I’m dying over here-” 

“Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.” Oscar chuckles. 

They find a rhythm. When one is going in, the other is going out. She’s drooling all down the exposed skin Oscar is showing. 

“Best. Fucking. Reward. Ever~” Lando punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust. The sounds are ridiculous and they are lucky that the sound of engines revving is drowning them out. If anyone is watching - well - they are certainly getting a show. 

Oscar’s voice cracks. “Fucking hell, you two look so good.” She concludes the walls of his resolve are starting to crumble. That the grip she has on his waist to ground herself is enough to make him snap and throw him over the edge. 

“You like the show, Osc.” 

“You could say that.” 

Lando likes to be seen and Oscar likes to watch. She likes everything in-between that. To be the object of their affections and an element of desire. Something they covet enough to lose themselves like this. 

Everything gets messier - if that was even possible. Oscar snaps his head back and grips the back of her head so he can hold her stead and fuck her throat. Lando grips her hips and sets an unrelenting pace. Each movement is sloppier than the last. Each moan is more pitched. 

She swallows. Her throat constricts enough for Oscar to growl from somewhere deep and sum without any warning. The tears are streaming down her face as she gags on the new and sudden change of consistency. 

He drags her off and gives her no time to recover. Simply lunging forward and nearly sending her crashing backwards onto Lando. His hand goes back to the Brits throat while his tongue goes so deep into her mouth that there is no way he can’t taste himself. 

Lando is a mess of high pitched whines. “Please - please I’m close-” 

She inhales desperately as Oscar unlatches from her mouth only to find the sensitive spot on her exposed collarbone. “Osc-” 

“I could keep you two like this forever. Desperate and whiny. Leaking with the thought of how good it would feel to cum.” They are both letting out desperate sounds. “I bet that guy from earlier would have stayed away then. So consumed by us that he could smell it on you.” 

“Yesyesyes - please-” She’s going to lose her mind. Lando might be closer than she is and yet he won’t slow down. There is nothing but this until Oscar tells them yes. Because it feels better waiting for it. 

And Lando will always go by feel.

“You’ve earned it Lando, fill our girl up yeah? Make her cry harder.” 

Oscar has to cover her mouth as everything goes white. Her ears are ringing - swimming in the sounds of their voices and nothing else. It’s white hot blissful nothing. No thoughts or anxieties, no worries about some guy making passes at her. 

Here she knows the two men who want nothing but to see her smile and cry for their cocks. Which is a stark contrast considering - but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Oscar recovers the quickest. Swiftly jumping out of the truck bed to grab their extra blanket and hoodies. “I can’t really clean you two up yet, but will this do for now?” He shifts his weight between feet. Normally more prepared, ready to meet the needs of physical pains and emotional needs that come with the aftermath. 

They both nod and excitedly wait for him to climb back up. “That… was amazing,” she laughs. Her voice broken and hoarse from her throat being used. 

Oscar winces. “I need to get you some water.” 

“Osc-”

“Yeah.” 

“Relax! It felt good! It was great and we’re okay.” Lando gestures to the two who can barely move. Bodies still twitching from the overwhelming sensations. “Now we shall bask in the glory that is the ridiculous amount of cash we made tonight!”

“What are you gonna spend it on?” 

“You, of course!” Oscar leans her into his side as Lando throws an arm around her shoulders for good measure. 

Cars begin to drive past. Leaving for the night either to wherever they are staying or another race. They wave off some of the familiar faces and flip off the annoying ones. Yeah - she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc

[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy

[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his

[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick

[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience

[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes

[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that

[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.

[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."

[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side

[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you

[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s

[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore

[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife

[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too

[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up

[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying

[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime

[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you

[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you

[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still

[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him

[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two

[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often

[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking

[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you

you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion 🫶🏻

here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami

xoxo sarah <3

[teapartyprincess4two]

Call Out My Name- J. Webber

pairing: OFcreator!reader x CoStar!Jake

classification: angst, smut

inspiration: request1, request2, Call Out My Name by The Weeknd

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, mention of online sex work, use of y/n, jealousy, slight cursing, Daddy kink, arguing, possessive!Jake, FWB (kinda?), slapping, cream pie, camera usage, somewhat pervy/ gross side character, smoking & alcohol

summary: When you film a video with somebody else, Jake’s jealousy takes over.

—

Your whole life you’ve been known to tell a good lie. You’ve never been necessarily sneaky, you’ve just always been a good actress; a good pretender.

That’s why it’s easy to pretend that Kevin, the man on top of you, is making you see stars. He’s jabbing his penis inside of you like a double edged sword, managing to make every angle less pleasurable than the last.

You put on the performance of a lifetime, but only because the cameras are rolling. A red, blinking light stares back at you to taunt you; to let you know that it’s not over until he’s done.

So, you arch your back off the bed, kiss all over his body, wrap your legs around his waist, chanting words you don’t mean. Words along the lines of, “It feels so good,” “Just like that,” and “Faster! Harder!”

The whole time, as Kevin pounds into you at an ungodly, un-pleasurable pace, all you can think about is Jake. Jake always managed to make you feel good even when the cameras were off. Yet you somehow always find yourself under subpar men.

A loud grunt, and a sweaty forehead against your shoulder pulls you out of your trance.

“Holy fuck that was good!” Kevin groans, his voice choppy as he attempts to catch his breath. His entire body collapses on top of yours, suffocating you under his weight.

This is your grand finale, the big show!

You let out a high pitched moan, claw at his back, and shake beneath him (as much as his weight will allow you) as you praise his hard work.

“So good! Fuck! I’m coming!”

You sit in the moment for a while, uncomfortably adjusting yourself under Kevin as the camera continues recording the awkward silence.

Finally, when you decide this entire interaction needs to end, your palms press flat against his shoulders to push him off of you. His body rolls onto the opposite side of the bed, chest still rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his high.

You throw on a robe and walk over to the camera, turning it off and looking expectantly at Kevin. He smirks at you, misreading your expression completely.

“Already ready for round two?” He chuckles. “Couldn’t get enough of the stallion, huh?”

He stands up and begins walking over to you while stroking himself, ready to engulf your frame in his arms.

You scoff, picking his clothes up from the floor and shoving it into his chest. “Let’s see how many views this gets. Then I’ll think about it.”

Kevin wears a dumbfounded expression as you kick him out of your house. You’re definitely NEVER collabing with him again, no matter the views.

—

Loud music bumps through the club speakers. A cold drink sits in Jake’s hand, the same drink he’s been nursing all night.

All week he’d been looking forward to a night out with his friends, but now that he’s actually here, he’s not sure he’s enjoying it as much as he thought he would. Maybe it’s just because you haven’t arrived yet.

Kevin stands across from him, retelling stories that everyone is only half-listening to. For as long as Jake has known him, he’s hated Kevin. Everything from the way that he walks, talks, dresses, and even the way that he name drops all of his collabs.*1

As an online sex worker, Jake knows that collaborations between creators are no strings attached and meaningless (for the most part at least). But as Kevin says your name, and describes in detail how good the sex was, Jake can’t help but feel jealous.

“I had her in every position you can think of,” Kevin boasts, holding his arms out as he thrusts the air. “I don’t think I’ve ever made someone cum that fast either,” he continues, pretending to slap ass as he continues his gross display.

Jake scoffs, unintentionally gaining Kevin’s attention.

“Jake! You’ve filmed with her before, right?” Kevin asks.

Jake’s done more than film with you, but he’s not the type to show off. “Yeah, we’ve collabed here and there.”

Kevin jabs Jake’s side, “So you know how tight that pussy is then.” Jake’s heard enough, he shoves Kevin away from him and downs the drink that was still in his hand.

He sucks in through his teeth, slamming the glass onto a nearby table before pushing his way out of the club. “Fuck’s his problem?” Kevin says in confusion, watching as Jake disappears outside.

Jake doesn’t know why he’s so upset, or even why he’s jealous in the first place. He knows you’ve had sex with people other than him, it’s literally your job, but for some reason it gets under his skin ever time.

The thought of you under another man —even if it is just for work— and enjoying it makes him see red. Sometimes he wishes your relationship wasn’t so transactional, that he could have you all to himself even when the camera wasn’t rolling. But he’s forced to accept the fact that what you two share is purely business.

Jake now stands outside of the club, back against a rough brick wall as he tries hard to think of anything other than you. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, craving the burn that smoking brings him to distract his mind. He’s quick to light the stick and take a long drag from it, blowing in the general direction of an approaching figure.

The street is dimly lit, causing him to squint his eyes until you finally come into view. It’s almost like his jealousy summoned you.

Immediately you notice Jake, excitedly skipping over to him as quickly as your tight leather dress will allow you. “Got one for me?” you ask, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at his cigarette.

You look so happy to see him, but his face doesn’t mirror your expression. He’s quiet, trying to keep to himself as much as possible before his mind inevitably reminds him of Kevin’s words.

He pulls another cigarette out, watching as you place it between your lips and wait for him to light it for you.

“How come you’re not inside?” you ask through puffs of smoke. Jake can’t stop looking at your lips, reminiscing on all the times you wrapped them around his cock while a camera was pointed at your face.

“It was getting loud in there,” he replies simply, before mindlessly continuing, “Plus I couldn’t listen to Kevin keep talking about how good it felt to fuck you.”

You grimace at the mention of his name. ���Kevin’s here?”

Jake’s jaw clenches, fingers flicking the cigarette onto the floor. “Don’t sound too excited,” he scoffs with an eye roll.

What the fuck? You choke on the smoke, coughing loudly as you reply, “I’m not?”

“Whatever, let’s just go inside. Everyone’s been waiting for you.” Jake’s pushes off the brick wall, ready to walk past you and into the club, but you stop him by standing directly in his path.

“Move, Y/n,” he grits, stretching his neck out to avoid eye contact.

“No. Why are you being so pissy?”

“I’m not. Now move.” Jake tries walking around you, but you just scoot over and block him again.

“Jake,” you say sternly, trying to pull his attention to you, he’s upset and stubborn. “Look at me.”

Finally, he meets your expectant gaze, and the look in his eyes is one you’ve only ever seen during sex. “C’mon, wouldn’t wanna keep Kevin waiting,” he grumbles, a clear displeasure evident in his tone.

Finally, it clicked.

“Are you jealous?” You tease, chuckling slightly. His expression shifts from annoyance to embarrassment, mostly because he never thought you’d catch on or that he made it so obvious.

“You’re jealous!” You exclaim, trying hard to hold back your laughter. Once again, he scoffs, but he’s terrible at hiding his embarrassment.

“Aw Jake, don’t be jealous,” you tease.

“Video did get a lot of views though.” It’s true, the video brought a lot of traction to your account, but so did every single one of your other videos.

An idea pops into his mind at the revelation, but you don’t give him time to respond before you’re turning on your heel and excitedly walking into the club.

—

All night you’ve been working towards making Jake more jealous than he already was. All you had to do was stand close to Kevin, chat him up a bit, and pretend to be interested in whatever he quipped back. Kevin was definitely getting the wrong idea, but if it got you closer to Jake, it didn’t matter.

Jake’s eyes have been glued to you from the moment you entered the club, trained on your every move. His blood is boiling, his jaw is clenched, and his fists are bawled.

He needs to come up with an excuse to get you alone as quickly as possible, just so you two can make a video of your own. Honestly, he’ll be content for some alone time with you even if the camera isn’t involved.

Jake watches in jealousy as your hands grip Kevin’s bicep, supporting yourself as you throw your head back in laughter. Surely Kevin isn’t that funny.

Kevin’s arm manages to escape your grip and slither around your waist, his hand resting on your ass before squeezing it. You know Jake’s watching, so you let Kevin put on a show.

When Kevin slaps your ass, loudly and proudly, Jake decides he’s seen enough. So, he walks over to you without a real plan, but he’s being fueled by rage and jealousy.

Jake leans down in front of you, whispering into your ear, “Meet me in the parking lot.”

You struggle to hear him over the music and Kevin’s hold on you makes it hard to scoot in closer to him.

“What?” You whisper shout.

“Meet me in the parking lot,” Jake repeats, gritting his teeth and sending an unreadable look towards Kevin.

He’s quick to dismiss himself from everyone else, bidding his goodbyes as he walks out into the parking lot. As you watch his brooding figure disappear, your thighs subconsciously clench together. For some reason, the miserable, possessive aura that radiated from him was causing a heat to grow within you.

After some minutes, you make up an excuse as to why you need to leave. Something along the lines of, “I have an early day tomorrow.” Luckily, no one questions your excuse, or the way you giddily skip out of the club, not even Kevin.

When you exit the building and round the corner into the parking lot, you spot Jake leaning against the hood of his car. A cigarette sits between his lips, the lit end blinking with each inhale.

“No Kevin?” He says with a sly grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “I can go get him if you want?” You turn on your heels, pretending like you’re going to walk back into the club.

“I was kidding,” he grumbles, pulling your body into his roughly. You slam against him, your crotch hitting his already erect member.

Jake’s arms wrap around your waist, both hands landing on your ass. He squeezes firmly, massaging your skin repeatedly.

“Why’d you call me out here, Jake?” You ask, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

“You know why,” he hums, applying pressure to your back until you’re basically grinding.

You decide to tease him, knowing that he’s so unbelievably horny that it’ll work him up even further. “I don’t know why, Jake. Care to explain?”

He’s still grinding himself into you, his breath becoming heavy with every passing second. Jake’s mind is going crazy with the thought of you on the back of his car, camera in your face, praising every inch of his body.

Jake’s head falls onto your shoulder, mouth latching onto the skin of your neck in a soft, sloppy attack of kisses. “Just thought we could… you know, make a video of our own,” he murmurs against your skin.

You want to give in, to take him right there in the middle of the parking lot, but you know that the further you push him, the greater the reward.

“We’ve made enough videos. They don’t bring in as many views as my other ones…” you say, stifling a moan. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t have to know that. Your videos with Jake are easily the most popular on your account.

“… As my videos with Kevin.”

Jake’s lips come to a halt, hands becoming stiff on your ass.

“Yeah?” Jake says.

“Yeah.” You reply, a stubborn underlying tone in your voice.

He unlocks his car, opening the back seat. “Get in.”

“What?” You laugh, slight confusion written on your face.

“You heard me,” he growls.

As you begin crawling into the backseat, his hand lands a firm slap on your ass.

“We’re gonna see how many views we can get you.”

—

Even though this is what you’ve wanted all night, now that you’re in the backseat of Jake’s car, you feel nervous. You’ve filmed videos like this before, yet you feel like a virgin anxiously awaiting to be touched.

Because you’re in a car, you have none of your camera equipment, so you’re wondering what Jake will record this on.

“C’mere,” Jake murmurs, catching sight of the way you anxiously play with the hem of your dress. “What happened to all that confidence?” He teases as you make your way onto his lap, finding a comfortable position over his crotch.

Instinctively, you grind onto him, but his hands are quick to stop you. “Uh uh. I’m in control, baby.”

“You were acting like a stupid brat. You think brats deserve to be rewarded?” He asks, pulling his phone out of his one pocket. You don’t answer, but you don’t have to because he does it for you, “They don’t. They get punished.”

The phone’s flash shines in your face, a clear indicator that he’s started recording. Suddenly, you become shy, because even if this is what you do for a living, it always feels more vulnerable and real with Jake.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips as he swiftly maneuvers you so that you’re lying across his lap. Your tight dress has managed to ride past your hips at this point, providing Jake the perfect view of your ass which he gladly captures on camera.

“You know what happens to brats, Y/n?” Jake asks, his unoccupied hand massaging your thighs and ass.

Your voice is squeaky as you try not to get lost in the feeling of his hands all over you, “Mmm— No.”

Suddenly, he delivers a quick slap to your bum. You weren’t expecting it, and you’re so lost in the moment that all you can manage to do is squeal.

“You like that?” He taunts, focusing the camera on the red handprint that’s forming on your skin. You bite your lip and nod your head, batting your eyelashes at him. Not only did you know that this would rile him up, but you actually did like that.

“Fucking brat,” he grits. Jake’s hand lands on your ass again, only slightly harder than before. The sting courses through your body, eliciting the smallest moan from you.

He delivers another slap. “I won’t stop until I know you’ve learned your lesson.” Slap.

You cover your mouth, attempting to muffle your moans and whimpers. But it’s no use, you’re enjoying this much more than you’d care to admit.

If it weren’t for the wetness that formed in your panties, you might’ve allowed this to continue all night. But, as he continues delivering slap after slap, all you can think about is the erection that is poking at your stomach.

So when he proposes the question, “Have you learned your lesson?”

You’re quick to reply with, “Yes. Yes, Daddy.”

The pet name flips a switch in Jake. It’s the first time anyone has ever referred to him as that, and he’s instantly addicted.

“Say it again.”

You crawl back into his lap, sitting right above his crotch. Your fingers weave through his hair and tug the strands.

Slowly, you lean close enough for your lips to graze his. “I learned my lesson,” you whisper, “Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers. Suddenly he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to remain in control. There’s something about the way the word sounds coming from your sultry voice. It has him weak.

You grind onto his cock as you connect your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy, needy, and tastes of desire. Jake’s completely forgotten about the phone, tossing it to the side and allowing his hands to roam your body.

His strong, rough hands travel from your ass to your boobs, pulling the dress down until your breasts are free. He hungrily latches onto your nipples, sucking and nipping at the sensitive buds until your head is thrown back in pleasure.

Your body continues gyrating against his, the material of his jeans providing you with the slightest relief. It still wasn’t enough, though, you needed to feel him, all of him.

You pull his face back up to yours, capturing his lips in another heated makeout session. Moans and groans are swallowed by the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth. You’re breathless, but the kiss is so much better than oxygen.

One of your hands begins palming him through his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in an attempt to free his cock.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg against his lips.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good,” he grunts, watching as you pull his pants down. Jake’s cock springs free, precum already leaking from the red, swollen tip.

As you pump him slowly, spreading his natural lubrication along his shaft, he uses one of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. The fabric pushes against your clit and the pressure is soon replaced with his fingers as he circles the bundle of nerves rhythmically.

You’re quick to position yourself over his cock, sitting on the tip momentarily before sinking down on it completely.

“Jake— fuck!” You moan, throwing your head onto his shoulder. Jake’s size always manages to overwhelm you.

You’re about to start bouncing on his dick, but he stops you with strong hands on your waist.

“That’s not my name.”

Rutting your hips in response earns you yet another slap to the ass.

“Don’t be a brat. Say my name,” he growls.

You clench around his girth, desperate for some sort of relief as he continues to hold you in place.

“Say.” Slap. “My.” Slap. “Name.” Slap.

Your asscheek is red and stinging, the need growing deep within your core. “Jake?” You tease, feigned innocence laced in your voice.

In an attempt to reposition himself, he bucks his hips upwards into you. You whimper at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix.

“Wanna act stupid?” He asks, mostly to himself. He grabs the long forgotten phone, its flash once again illuminating your exposed body. “I’ll fuck you stupid then.”

In one swoop, Jake lays you on your back in the backseat. Your tits jiggle against the fabric of your dress that’s pooled beneath them, an excited giggle being the only thing keeping you from moaning.

“You won’t think shit’s funny when I’m done with you.”

His large hand slithers up your body, wrapping around your neck as he begins pounding into you relentlessly. Small hands wrap around his wrist as you try adjusting to the feeling.

He’s fucking you so fast, so good. Muffled and strained moans ring through the car, harmonizing with the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

Jake’s still pointing the camera in your face, capturing your fucked out expression perfectly. He expertly angles the camera down to your wet cunt, biting his lip at the sight he’s met with. His length plunges in and out of you repeatedly, squelching as it’s coated in your slick.

“Jake— I—,” you stutter through your words, the euphoric feeling of his dick suffocated between your walls clouding your mind with lust.

He pulls out of you completely, immediately missing the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, but he needs to teach you a lesson.

Your hips lift from the leathery cushion beneath them, chasing his cock in a hungry haze. You whimper and claw at the wrist that’s wrapped around your throat, begging desperately for him to stuff you again.

“Say my name,” he commands. Your nose scrunches in indignation.

His grip on your throat loosens, that same hand traveling down to his aching cock. Jake teasingly traces the tip along your cunt, earning another hip buck from you.

“You know what to do, baby,” he teases.

“One word will give you everything you want.” He slaps the tip against your throbbing clit. You want to continue playing this game, but you know you won’t last long.

You sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows. The camera has the perfect view of your face and your pussy that clenches around nothing.

Your eyelashes bat against your cheeks as you bite your lip. “Please, Daddy. Please fuck me.”

As soon as the pet name leaves your mouth, Jake is diving back into you in a hungry frenzy. The force pushes you back onto your back. His pounding thrusts have you seeing stars, his tip kissing your cervix each time.

“Was that so fucking hard?” He grunts. One of his hands grips your waist, providing him with the leverage necessary to continue fucking you deep and hard. The other hand, is focused on filming every beautiful second of this. From the way you look wrapped around him, to the way your mouth falls open because of the sheer pleasure coursing through your veins.

His grunts bring you closer to the edge, especially when mixed with the filthy words that fall from his lips. “Did Kevin fuck you this good? Did his dick have you squirming and whimpering like this?”

You’re too fucked out to respond, causing Jake to pound into you even harder than before. “Hmm? Did he?”

“No, Daddy. No one fucks me this good— fuck!” Your eyes screw shut as he fucks you at a particularly delicious angle. “Only you do, Daddy. Only you.”

You feel your climax approaching quickly, so you slither your hand down to your clit. Your fingers rub circles into the sensitive bud as you chase your high.

Jake’s orgasm must be close too because his hips stutter and his movements become sloppier, a string of curse words and moans melodically falling on the skin of your neck.

“I’m coming!” You squeak.

Your legs convulse and shake as your orgasm washes over you, your core clenching around Jake’s cock as he continues pushing and pulling inside of you.

“Fuck. You feel so good, baby. So, so good,” he praises as your plushy walls continue clamping around his dick.

He’s so unbelievably close, all he needs is to hear you say his name one last time. “Say my name, baby. I’m so close.”

You chant the pet name like a mantra, kissing his sweaty chest and shoulders repeatedly to help him reach his orgasm. He loves the way you say it and would gladly listen to you say it forever if he could.

Jake’s hips snap into you one last time as hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your insides. A breathy, animalistic moan racks through his body as he collapses onto you.

For the first time in a long time, the weight of a man’s body on you doesn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it feels comforting and you’d love for him to remain this close to you for as long as possible.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. So, as you both recover from the powerful orgasms that just surged through your body, he pulls out of you slowly.

You immediately miss the feeling of him inside of you and as he turns the phone off, you find yourself wishing you were still under the spotlight, because maybe then the moment would last longer.

You sit up and adjust your dress. “Hope you got your footage,” you comment, attempting to sound nonchalant. “It’ll get a lot of views.”

Jake pulls his pants up, sending you a bewildered look. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m sharing this,” he chuckles.

Your brows furrow in confusion, a slight twinge of embarrassment painting your expression. “Was it not good enough?”

As you await his response, you crawl into the passenger seat. He follows suit shortly after, joining you in the driver’s seat.

“Was it not good enough?” He scoffs, restating your question like it’s an insult. “It was too good.”

A blush forms on your face. You don’t know what it is about Jake that always makes you feel like a giggly teenage girl.

“It was too damn good, baby. And Daddy doesn’t like sharing.”

Instinctively, your thighs press together. He always managed to rile you up within seconds.

“You’re mine, don’t forget that. I’m greedy,” Jake states.

You nod your head slowly.

“And whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets.” His right hand rests on your thigh as the other works the steering wheel. *2

“Yes Daddy,” you whisper, earning yourself a squeeze. If it meant he’d fuck you like he just did, you were going to continue calling out his name.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

okay so I’m writing Arranged CH.2 rn, but this idea just came to me based on the two requests (linked). Also, I need a smut break tbh I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING FLUFFY AND/ OR ANGSTY. which is what Arranged is perfect for 😏

I’m trying to gain the motivation to write frequently again so I can post more, but it’s a process. I’m getting there guys.

Thank you my sweet anons for these reqs (linked), hope you enjoy!!!

- L.A.M.B 👼🏻💗

—

1* Kendrick V. Drake, thoughts? Personally, I’m team Kendrick 🤔 the songs are too damn catchy

2* I know he says “whatever daddy wants, daddy gets,” as a joke, but let’s pretend he says it to get us all worked up. okay? Okay.

—

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note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Second Choices

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I hope this makes sense lol. I opened my planning doc for the next part of Triad, read the three sentences I had written there, and then closed it and went back to a random drabble in my notes app that exploded into this. So… enjoy, I guess? There will be three parts of this total, so click here to be added to the taglist to be notified when those go live!

Warnings: Angst, drinking, drug use (slightly forced, if you squint?), a little hint of smut at the end but it doesn't progress very far

“Y/N is a bitch,” Braelie whined, voice echoing out from the restroom’s open door. Mor sighed, snapped the cap back onto her signature red lip gloss, then turned towards Cassian’s female-du-jour. She was pretty, in an artificial sort of way. Her foundation, a shade too light, was caked on with a thick layer of matte powder that swallowed the light when it hit her face, leaving her skin dull and sullen. The dark eye makeup and too-bright lipstick made her look like a doll, and not the kind for children.

“Listen, Brae,” Mor hoped that using a nickname would soften the major blow she was about to land. She reached out and laid a light, comforting hand onto one bony shoulder. “Y/N and Cassian have been friends for a long time. I won’t lie to you, sometimes the lines get blurred when they’re both single. She’s probably having some complicated feelings, since you’re so pretty,” Mor rushed to add that last part when Braelin’s lower lip wobbled. Then she prayed to the Mother for your forgiveness and said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “she’s probably just jealous.”

That put a spark back into Braelie’s eyes, and Mor cringed. She added Cassian to her list of prayers as Braelie flounced away in search of him.

Cassian hovered with his hand on the doorknob, ready to duck out the side door to sneak in a quick smoke break while Braelie freshened up with Mor. 

Braelie was hot, sure, but Cauldron she was dumb. If Cassian had to hear the words, “wait, really?” one more time, he might not make it long enough to get her into his bed tonight. Just a few puffs of mirthroot would dull the edges of his brain enough to find her cluelessness endearing. 

She wasn’t the most exciting company, but she was reliable, and he needed that. He’d broken things off with Skyla three weeks earlier and knew that he was dangerously close to doing the one thing he wore he’d stop doing, so he went out one night, alone, and found Braelie. 

After overhearing Mor’s words, he felt guilt roiling deep in his gut. So he smoked half a joint and headed back inside. He danced with her and thought of you. Walked her home and thought of you. She invited him in for a drink and pressed her too-pink lips against his. 

He thought of you. 

Afterward, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and waited until her breathing slowed before sneaking out through the window. He shoved off of the sill and let his wings fully expand, catching the wind and sending him soaring into the early morning sky. 

—

You hadn’t meant for Cassian’s latest fling to overhear you calling her a “Cauldron-damned floozy,” but it had happened anyway. 

“She’s soooooo annoyingggg,” you slurred, taking another swig from the wine glass in your hand. You let your head fall back until it landed on Azriel’s shoulder. He chuckled and you felt his shadows nipping at your cheeks, lightly scolding you for being bitchy. They tickled like tiny, ice-cold kisses, but that wasn’t enough to stop you. “Seriously, Az. I dunno what Cas sees in her. She’s just another Cauldron-damned floozy, good for keeping his bed warm and not much else.” 

Mor had managed to redirect Braelie towards the restrooms after that, leaving you alone in the booth with Az, completely oblivious. 

Azriel’s shadows had alerted him to her presence, and a smirk graced his lips. He sensed some major drama brewing and relished in his position at the sidelines. 

“Why, Y/N, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous,” he drawled. You let your head loll to the side so you could glare at him, which coaxed a bark of laughter from his lips. 

—

The first coherent thought you had the next morning was water. I need water. You dragged yourself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom, gulping mouthful after mouthful straight from the faucet. 

But water could only do so much for a hangover, so you threw a robe over your pajamas and tiptoed down the Townhouse stairs. It was nearing noon but, based on the disheveled state everyone had returned in last night, you didn’t want to risk waking anyone and incurring their hungover wrath. 

Outside the kitchen, you heard low, muffled voices and paused to listen before entering. Mother forbid you end up interrupting Cassian and Braelie’s post-coital feast. Cauldron, even her name was annoying. 

“I just don’t understand why Y/N would say something like that,” you heard Cassian say, wincing as memories from last night flooded your brain. 

“Look, Y/N’s your best friend, I’m sure she’s just feeling put out now that you’re spending so much time with Braelie,” Az said, careful to keep his tone neutral. 

“Well she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.” 

You turned away and snuck back up the stairs to change into real clothes, deciding that breakfast at your favorite cafe was in order. Preferably paired with a mimosa or five. 

— 

Az sighed and took a sip of tea to buy himself some time to think. He’d stayed up with Mor until sunrise, talking about their clueless friends. 

While your comments about Cassian’s love life had been funny the first few times, after more than three decades, it was getting old. They recognized a pattern repeating itself ad nauseam; Cassian gets a new girlfriend, you distance yourself from him and start grumbling about the girls’ flaws, then when Cas eventually dumped her you’d be back to being best friends like no time had passed at all. And if you both happen to be single, well, sometimes after smoking too much mirthroot you’d end up all over each other. In a friendly way, of course. 

This time, though, you’d been much more open about your hatred for Braelie despite the fact that she was one of the more tolerable ‘floozies’  they’d had to deal with over the years. She was dumb but harmless, and soon enough Cassian would tire of her, resetting the cycle once again. 

So they’d decided to divide and conquer; Mor was going to try and get it through your thick skull that you’re in love with Cas, while Az was tasked with showing the General what was right in front of him. 

Easier said than done. So he decided to go for the jugular. 

“Well, it’s not like you have the best track record with females. Maybe Y/N’s gotten tired of playing nice when you’ve got someone new on your arm every other week.”

“Last I checked that wasn’t a crime.” 

Az held his hands up, raising one eyebrow at Cas. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger. If it’s really bothering you, why don’t you talk to her? I’m sure if you asked her to lay off Braelie she would.”

Cas ducked his head to hide the heat rushing to his face and mumbled something incoherent into his chest. 

“Sorry, brother, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my shadows laughing at your blush.”

“I broke up with her this morning,” Cas growled, tightening his grip on the mug in his fist. 

Azriel cackled, laughter only growing louder when Cas glared at him. 

“It’s not funny,” Cas insisted, launching his teaspoon over the table. Az’s shadows caught it before it could make contact, turning Cas’s glare into a downright glower.  

“Alright, alright, it’s not funny. You’re just predictable, that’s all.” 

After stewing in silence for a few minutes, Cas felt his self control crumbling. Words bubbled up from his chest, through his throat, and then he was rambling. 

“I overheard Mor telling Braelie that Y/N was jealous of her,” he pushed his chair back and started pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “And at first I thought, no way, that’s crazy, if Y/N was jealous I would know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She always gets weird whenever I’m dating someone, right?”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Az suggested, leaning back in his seat. Just a friend offering a casual, off-the-cuff solution to a problem he knows nothing about. 

“Yeah, maybe…”

—

Mor tracked you down later that afternoon, sprawled out on a blanket next to the Sidra and halfway through a bottle of vintage red imported from the Summer Court. 

“Heyyy,” you greeted her, pushing yourself up into a sitting position and holding the bottle out towards your friend. “Come to join the pity party?” 

Mor eyed you, curiosity and amusement sparking behind her honey brown eyes, and she accepted your offering. 

“And why are we having a pity party?” she asked, plopping down next to you and taking a long pull from the bottle. 

“Cause I fuck everything up, duh.” You flopped back down, this time onto your stomach. “Cassian hates me, but whatever. I’m sure he and Braelie are going to be very happy together.”

Mor had to force her eyes not to roll at your drunken dramatics. 

“I’m gonna find a boyfriend, that way when they break up Cas can’t come crawling back to me with his dick in his hand. See how he likes it.” You made grabby hands for the bottle but Mor shook her head, keeping it held just out of your reach. 

“Or you could try telling him how you feel?” She suggested, casually, as she took another sip. 

You scoffed, hiccuping giggles following as you struggled to keep your composure as mixed emotions ebbed and flowed through your body. 

“Tell him how I feel? Should I tell him it makes my skin itch whenever he dances with another girl? Tell him that I haven’t been able to finish with anyone else since the first time he fucked me? Or maybe I should tell him that he’s my mate, good idea, Mor. Maybe that will make him fall in love with me!” 

Mor let her eyes roll this time, patting you on the back. But when you flipped onto your back, she saw the pain and longing etched into the lines on your face and stared deep into your eyes, waiting for you to laugh and say it was just a joke. 

Unease settled in her stomach. 

“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked. 

“He’s my Cauldron-damned mate, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s too busy burying himself in the hordes of females fawning all over him to notice how much it hurts.” 

“Y/N…how long have you known?” 

“Four years,” you whispered, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your tears from your oldest friend.

“Oh, babe,” she sighed, tugging you up into her arms. The dam behind your eyes broke and sobs wracked your body while the gears in Mor’s brain started turning. 

When you finally settled in her lap, tears dried up, she hauled you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get you home.” 

All you managed to mutter was, “Not the Townhouse,” before she winnowed you away.  

—

Cassian dodged Azriel’s attempts at cheering him up in favor of sulking at the kitchen table all day, waiting for you to wake up. 

When it was nearing dinner time, he sighed and put together a tray of tea and pastries to bring up to you as a peace offering. But after knocking politely on your door for five minutes straight, worry started worming its way into his stomach and he threw open the door to reveal your bed, perfectly made and empty. 

“Fuck,” he growled, throwing the tray down the hallway where it crashed against the wall, broken bits of pottery clattering to the ground. He’d wasted all day waiting for you when you were out doing Mother knows what with Mother knows who. 

Screw apologies, he was on a warpath now.  

He trekked through the busy streets of Velaris looking for any sign of you, starting at Amren’s apartment and making his way through your favorite shops and restaurants with no success. Just when he was about to give up, assuming you were holed up with a male somewhere, he saw Mor ducking into one of the small cafes near the Sidra. 

“Mor!” he shouted, jogging to catch the door before it closed behind her. She turned around, and a look of shock flashed across her face before it smoothed into cool indifference. 

“Cassian,” she said, nodding at him before turning to the hostess stand. “I’m here to pick up a takeout order for Morrigan.” 

The hostess nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to grab the food. Cas reached out and grabbed Mor’s wrist, tugging her around to face him.  

“Where is she?” he asked, barely able to contain the rage flowing through his veins. 

“Not now, Cas,” Mor sighed, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “Trust me. Just give her some space.” 

“I can’t,” he growled, siphons glowing as if they were attempting to warn her that his magic was sizzling just beneath the surface. It felt like something was pulling him along, the desire to find you growing stronger the longer he looked. “I need to find her. Please, Mor.”

The hostess came back and handed a bag to Mor, who promptly turned around and dumped it into Cas’s arms. 

“Fine, then you can take this up to the House of Wind for me. I have some errands to run, you have an hour.” Cas’s face relaxed and he nodded, about to open his mouth to thank her when she waved a hand at him to dismiss him. 

But when they were back outside, she turned around to flash a sickly sweet smile at him. 

“Oh, and Cassian?” His eyes widened as he froze in place, wings spread and ready to take off. “If you hurt her, I will feed you to Bryaxis.” 

With that, she disappeared and Cassian took to the skies wondering what would be waiting for him when he arrived. 

— 

On the back deck of the House of Wind, you stood leaning against the railing, music swirling around you as you watched the sun sink behind the buildings of Velaris below. Lights blinked on one by one until the whole city was filled with twinkling stars.

With a joint in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, your mind was finally, blissfully, numb. Only the subtle ache deep in your core served as a reminder of your unfortunate situation, but even that was starting to dull. 

Of course, your peaceful night had to be ruined by the one male you had no desire to see. The sound of flapping wings and rushing of air past your face gave you a split-second warning, and then Cassian dropped to the ground behind you. 

You turned around and held the hand with the joint lazily balanced between two fingers at your forehead. 

“General Bloodshed, or whatever the fuck,” you said, wobbling on unsteady feet as you saluted him. Then you lowered your hand and took a long drag, holding the smoke in your lungs for as long as physically possible before letting it out in a steady stream pointed in his direction. “Come to fight for your fair maiden’s honor, or just to rub it in my face that you’re getting laid and you don’t need me anymore?”

“Y/N,” he said, all the anger draining from his body as he took in the bags under your eyes and the heavy winter clothes hanging off your frame even though Summer was right around the corner. It was like he was seeing you for the first time after a long mission away, noticing how much weight you’d lost, how tired your body looked. 

He set the food down on one of the lounge chairs and took slow, careful steps towards you. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’, Cassie, nothin’ at all,” you said, pausing to hiccup before continuing. “I don’t care about Braelie, I don’t care about you, I don’t care about anything.” You thrust your arms out wide and turned to face the sunset, which was now casting a golden glow onto Velaris. “I’ve got a hot date with my fingers later, and I probably won’t even think about you.”

Cas ignored the heat flaring up low in his belly at the mental image that flashed behind his eyes. 

“Hey,” he whispered, coming up next to you and prying the joint from your hand. “Gimme that.” 

You turned to face him, lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Why? So you can leave me here and go get high with Braelie? I bet she’s real mouthy. You like em loud, don’t you? Like when females beg for that big Illyrian cock?”

Your voice got higher and higher, becoming breathless as you rambled on, letting all of your deepest, darkest, pent-up thoughts and feelings fall from your lips. Even though you knew you’d regret it in the morning, in the moment it felt so good to let them go. 

“Y/N, stop, just take a breath. I’m not going to leave you, okay!” Cassian stubbed out the joint and tossed it aside, putting his hands on your shoulders to force you to look at him. “I’m not going to see Braelie, I broke up with her this morning.” 

Your eyes glazed over as you looked him up and down, a lazy smirk blooming on your lips. 

“Ohhhh, I see how it is,” you drawled, waving a hand to summon the joint to you. Snapping your fingers to spark it back to life, you took another deep hit and then stuffed the unlit end into Cas’s mouth. He tried to protest but you held firm until he finally inhaled. Its effects hit immediately, and you watched as his shoulders drooped, muscles relaxing. With a wicked grin, you dropped from his loosened grip to your knees, palming his dick through his leathers. “Want me to kiss it better, put your broken heart back together?” 

A war waged behind Cas’s eyes; on the one hand, the mirthroot was clouding his judgment and lust threatened to take over at the sight of you looking up at him with wide eyes.  

On the other hand, he had set out to make things right, to talk to you and figure out the true nature of your feelings for him. Sleeping with you would send the wrong message. 

“Y/N, stop,” he grunted, pulling his hips back and shoving your hand away. 

“What?” you asked, your pout back in full force. “Want me to beg for it first, cause you know I will? Know I’ll give you anything you want?” You shoved yourself up to your feet, pushing onto your tiptoes so your narrowed eyes bore right into Cassian’s. 

He felt the tension that had been building all day melt away—the anger, the frustration, the confusion—all of it was gone with a snap of golden magic that flooded his body. 

You felt it, too, from your side of the bond, could see the moment it registered behind those hazel eyes. It felt like the bond was on your side, snapping just in time to help you prove a point.

“I’m done being your second choice, mate,” you snarled, plucking the joint from his hand before turning around and stalking into the house, leaving him stranded alone in the darkness. 

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| ii. two| rough voice, gentle hands

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: smoking, blood, fire, mentions of nightmares, crying, treating wounds

↳ ❝ the battle of wanting to be a good person and the fire of revenge ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Hobie felt as though he was suffocating. Sweat clung to him like a second skin against his flesh. Sleep eluded him every time he so desperately reached for it. The sway of the ship did not comfort him as it usually did. It did not lull him to sleep like being held in his mothers tender arms and rocked slowly into slumber. It did not hum in his ear the tune of his childhood and offer the respite of home.

He stared out of the window beside his bed. The moon was full and partly hidden behind pale clouds. It shone so softly on the calm waters and made it sparkle like silver under the light. His fingers traced imaginary shapes on his tummy to soothe the turbulent thoughts plaguing him. Closing his eyes was not an option. Closing his eyes meant being haunted by the sight of two pearls, white and glassy and dead. He wasn’t sure who they belonged to. You or his mother.

Anxiety ate away at Hobie. It carved pieces of his soul, whittled away at the contours of his being with the intent to leave nothing behind. He trembled as if he were cold but the thin film of sweat layering his body said otherwise. Nights like these were not uncommon. If he wasn’t having a nightmare about his mother, he couldn’t sleep at all. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, if any.

Hobie sat up and sat off of the side of his bed, running his hands down his face with a heavy sigh. He thought of you, of your weeping frame in that cage looking up at him with those haunting eyes. He thought of the way you looked at him, the way you lingered, the way you looked so much like his mother in a way— helpless.

Hobie gripped his sheets and looked out the window once more. It was stifling in his cabin. The air was thick and hot with humidity. He needed fresh air and maybe a cigar to soothe his nerves enough to find some peace in sleep. Ale would be nice, drink himself to sleep so even if he did have a nightmare he wouldn’t remember it. But everyone was asleep below deck and he didn’t want to stumble about in the dark, risking an angry, sleepy crew member cursing at him.

He got up and grabbed a lanturn. He took his time lighting it and placed it carefully on his desk. It cast just enough light to let Hobie look through his desk for a stray cigar he had in one of the drawers. Once he found it, he took the lantern and his cigar and grabbed the dagger he never went without before he left his cabin.

The deck was eerily silent. Every creak of the wood under his boots made him wince. The air was cool, the wind was salty, and the moon shone so brightly that the lantern was mostly unneeded. The Mary Jane swayed softly with the calm water that kissed and caressed her sides and kept everyone in her hull fast asleep except for her captain who made his way towards the side of the ship.

Hobie placed the lantern down on the ledge and took out his cigar. He leaned against the side of the ship, placing the end of the cigar in the small flame encased inside the lantern to light it before taking it between his full lips. He took a drag with the wind, embers burning away at the end. And as the smoke passed between his lips, he let go of the tightness in his shoulders and the knot in his stomach. The smoke was musky and rich and eased Hobie's nerves more than the comfort of any human other than his mother.

His mother, you, his mother, you. He couldn't close his eyes. Eyes, white eyes, pearls hanging off your hips, his mother's corpse, the tremble of your lips, the decaying of her jaw, half her skull exposed.

His fingers gripped the edge of the ship, lip curling. Hobie took another long drag of his cigar and held it in a tight grip between his lips. He shook his head and rubbed his face. Burying his face in the palms of his hands, he groaned loudly with frustration. This was a torture Hobie wished on no one.

Hobie sat there with his face in his hands for a long while, occasionally bringing his cigar to his lips to smoke from it. His head ached, his chest tightened, and he longed for a home that no longer belonged to him.

There was a splash in the water. Swiftly, Hobie took his hands from his face and looked over the side of the ship down into the dark waters below. It must have been a fish, nothing more. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars behind his lids and then white. Shakily, he took another drag from his cigar and let the smoke tumble from trembling lips.

Another splash. Hobie opened his eyes again and almost dropped his cigar into the water when he saw a head peeking up through the darkness just enough to reveal completely white eyes staring blankly at him.

It was you. Even in the darkness, he knew for certain it was you lurking in the waters, staring at him now with the same eyes that kept him from sleeping. He couldn't quite believe it was you and for a moment thought he was dreaming. This must have all been some elaborate scheme conjured up by his mind, set out to ruin his life and drive him into insanity.

He rubbed his eyes again, pinched his arm, and you were still there. You looked at him with an almost child-like wonder, your head breaching the water a little more to reveal the rest of your face. Water rolled down your cheeks like the tears had before, shimmering under the moonlight like little droplets of pearls.

Hobie looked towards the door that led below deck. It was still quiet. He almost wanted to retrieve Gwen to ensure his mind wasn't making fantasies, to ensure he wasn't dwindling into madness.

He looked back to you, his lip curling with distaste. “Wha’cha doin’ here?” 

You stared at him, your head tilted subtly to the side as you waded closer to the ship. Hobie sneered at you. “Are ya daft or sometin'? I let’cha go free. Get outta here.” He waved you off, attempted to shoo you away like one swats away a pest but you remained, moving ever closer to the ship.

You placed a clawed hand against the hull of the ship. Hobie watched in horror as you used your claws to grapple into the wood and climb your way up the side of the ship.

Hobie stumbled back, his hand retrieving his dagger as you climbed onto the ship and placed your feet aboard his deck. You glanced at his knife and trembled, whimpering softly.

Hobie had almost forgotten how ethereal you looked. Memory did your beauty no service. You were something handcrafted, something so meticulously designed it almost made him believe in a higher power. But he couldn’t let your deadly looks make him lose sight of what you really were. A danger.

“What do ya wan’?” He bared his teeth at you, fingers white-kuckling his dagger. His eyes were sharp with caution, shooting up and down your decorated body covered in pearls, seaweed, and shells. Your patches of scales almost twinkled with iridescent light. How could something so gorgeous be capable of such mass destruction and devastation? Nature was a cruel mistress.

“I let ya go. I coulda killed ya but I didn'. Ya gotta death wish or sometin’?”

You were clutching your shoulder; the one that had been injured before. You were shivering, looking so soft and vulnerable. It was clear you needed help. You had only wrapped up your shoulder with seaweed but it was bleeding through with the strenuous task you had just done.

You fell to your knees before him and looked up at him. You were tired and in pain. It would be easy to kill you now and be done with it. No one would know of his sin. You would plague him no longer. He would sleep well at night knowing you would never destroy anyone with your beauty again.

But how could he harm such a defenseless thing? If you wanted to kill him and his crew there were easier ways to do it. No– you were asking for help from him of all people. Maybe you figured that because he had helped you before he’d help you now when you needed it most.

Hobie should kill you. He knows he should. Your kind takes entire ships down indiscriminately, lure innocent people into the ocean to never be seen again or to wash up on shore days later with bleeding ears and whitened eyes. He had every reason in the world to kill you and let you rot out at sea like your victims.

But a softer part of him, the part who took in strays and gave them a home, asked him, ‘Is this who you really are? Killing someone that's so clearly asking for your help? Is that who you want to be?’ The battle of wanting to be a good person and the fire of revenge.

This was not right. Killing those in need of help would make him no better than the sirens he despised so much, no better than you and your kind. Hobie’s lip curled into a scowl. He would help you but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d be better than you, better than the whole lot of you. 

Hobie took his dagger and shoved it away into his belt at his hips. He raised his hands as if to surrender to you and got down low to show that he was no threat. You watched him slowly approach and something in your eyes told him you were scared. “Look, ‘m no’ gonna hur’cha.” His voice came off a bit abrasive though he tried to be gentle. You whimpered at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder, your lips pulling back to bare your teeth at him.

He backed away a bit. “You wan’ my help or no’?” He bit back at you. “You can go back t’where ya belong if no’.” His eyes were sharp and his lips were pressed, holding back a sneering frown. He made it clear. He did not need to help you, didn’t even want to in some sense. If you didn’t want it, he wouldn’t go out of his way to convince you to accept his help.

Your gaze shifted, you looked away for a moment. You were considering it. Finally, you yielded and stood, allowing Hobie to come close enough to touch you. Your skin was cool to the touch, water droplets clung to you, rolling down the dips and valleys of your body, your decency just barely hidden by coverings of seaweed.

His fingers slid over your skin, over the scales and fins of your forearm. You shivered, trembled so subtly under his warm touch. Your extra appendages were sensitive, his fingertips just barely grazed your fin. You almost tore your arm from his hold, but Hobie took your hand, taking a quick look at your webbed fingers carefully grabbing it. He stood before you, tossing his cigar over the side of the boat and into the water. You looked at him but he never seemed to look at you straight on. He’d catch quick glimpses of your gaze before letting his snap away elsewhere.

“Stay quiet.” Hobie’s voice was firm. “Do ya understand?” He grabbed the lantern from the ledge and held it up between the two of you to get a look at your face. You were pretty. Soft and delicate looking. He always expected sirens to look more…severe, more sharp and lethal-looking. The light reflected off of your eyes and made them glow gold. You nodded wordlessly.

Hobie guided you by your hand and led you below deck into the hold separate from where the rest of the crew slept. The dim fire from the lantern served as your only light in the darkness. It only illuminated the first few steps before you before the darkness swiftly rushed back in, biting at your heels.

He took you to where the few medical supplies they had were stored and brought up crates where you could sit with the lantern while he got bandages and a bottle of whiskey. Hobie placed the lantern down beside the two of you, it’s dim light glowing just enough that he could see your glittering frame.

“How’d ya get this anyway?” He grumbled, reaching out with tender fingers to carefully unwrap the seaweed you had haphazardly tied around the wound. “Harpoon or sometin'?” You nodded slowly, fingers mindlessly twiddling with each other in your lap. Your eyes keenly watched him, traced the contours of his face. Hobie pretended like he didn't feel your gaze grazing his face.

Eyes flicking between your exposed wound—bloodied and irritated by the salt water—and your eyes, tracing the lines of his being with endless bounds of curiosity, he swallowed. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey. “Hold still. And don't bite.” Using his teeth, he popped open the cork of the bottle and poured the liquid inside over the wound.

You flinched away from him, fangs bared just for a moment at the sting. A low growl erupted from your chest somewhat instinctively.

“Growlin’ a’ me will get’cha nowhere.” He set the bottle down and grabbed the strip of cloth he was using as a bandage. Your lips formed into the smallest touch of a pout. You wiggled and writhed away from him. Hobie scoffed. “Gettin’ pouty won' get me either. Now stop movin’. Makin’ this much harder than it needs t’be.”

His voice was rough but his fingers were gentle. He traced over your skin with tender care– bandage in his hand– and began to wrap it tightly around your shoulder. He made you lift your arm a little so he could wrap it under the hinge of your arm. Hobie leaned in close. He was sure to focus his gaze on your wound though he could feel the burning gaze of your pearl eyes on him, lingering.

“Ya got a starin’ problem or sometin’?”

You did not grace him with a response. No shake or nod of your head. You simply stared. You did have a problem.

Hobie finished up wrapping your bandage with a quiet, “there”, and leaned away from you to hopefully get some space and breathe. You sat with your hands on your thighs, staring with wide, bright, white eyes. He was disturbed by you. Your vague allusion to human-ness made him uneasy, the way you stared made him uneasy, you made him uneasy.

“Leave. Ya got whatcha came fo’.”

You did not budge. You sat and stared with your head cocked to the side a little. You almost looked like a puppy, confused, eager, a bit ditzy.

Hobie almost wanted to be endeared. Instead he got annoyed. “Did ya no’ hear me? Go!” He pointed towards the hatch that led up to the deck. “Ya don' belong here ‘n ya know i’.” It was harsh, cutthroat, as if he had taken his dagger and jabbed it through your chest.

Hobie looked at you and could see the beginnings of tears glossing over your eyes. Your full, bottom lip trembled in a way all too familiar to him. Your tears reflecting in the light, tears like the pearls that hung off of your frame. Even if you couldn't sing, you were a siren in your own right. Your tears were your song and could lure even the toughest of sailors to their doom.

Curse you.

“Fine, fine, just– stop cryin’ would’ja? You can stay here fo’ the night but ya in the mornin’. Ya hear?” Rough voice.

You nod vigorously with understanding. You watched tearfully Hobie stand up with the lanturn and take your hand in his. Gentle hands. “Come on, we gotta hide ya. Don't wan’ my crew knowin’ ya here. Yer gonna give ‘em a fright.” He tugged and you stood, stumbling along behind him further below the ship into the hull.

Hobie took you to the room where they kept all the gunpowder and ale and moved a large barrel to the side so you could lay in the corner behind it. He looked around and found a sack of potatoes he summarily dumped out and tore apart so you could use it to cover yourself through the night.

“Don't leave this spot ‘til I come get ya in the mornin’. Understand?”

You nodded and grabbed the sack, looking at it in confusion. You slept underwater or on rocks. You’ve never used anything of the sort in your life. Hobie took it from you and made you lay down before draping it over you. “See, t’keep ya warm.”

Hobie moved the barrel back into place to hide you in case any of his crew came in to grab any ale in the morning. He’d come back for you as soon as day broke over the horizon before anyone woke up to usher you back off the ship and out to where you belong.

He was going to just walk away when something in him made him turn around and tell you, “good night”. Something soft and human. Something sympathetic and understanding.

And you purred a little tune along the same lines.

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...

A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig it the concept. Let me know what you think.

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Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time. 

While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath. 

"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile. 

"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look. 

𝜗𝜚

The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.

"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.

"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over. 

"I don't like sweets," he states.

"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door. 

𝜗𝜚

A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling. 

"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing. 

"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning." 

"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair. 

"Can you hold this for a second?" 

"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh. 

You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."

"It's fine"

"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"

The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors. 

"Ladies first" 

He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself. 

As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator. 

"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.

𝜗𝜚

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course. 

You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.

Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though. 

For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...

Then he drops his lighter. 

Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become. 

You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you. 

"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request. 

He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke. 

"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.

"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze. 

"You sure?"

"No," you release a tired sigh. 

He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."

A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes. 

You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter. 

"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."

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[penvisions]

zest {chapter 1}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Changes are sudden, lifestyles are altered, and important questions bubble up but through it all, you have Joel by your side.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, age gap (joel is mid 40’s / reader is late 20’s -early 30’s, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, death of a loved one, mention of life-threatening cancer, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, mentions of therapy, references to time apart from each other, adult content, smut, piv, unprotected piv be safe y'all!), talk of marriage, adult conversations, joel and reader are down bad for each other.

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || masterlist || ko-fi

It’s the perfect spring day: sun shining in a warm but not hot brightness, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as you zip past them, an iced coffee, and the singing figure of Ellie in the passenger seat all make the first half of the day melt away. The amber of your sunglasses allows for everything to be swathed in the honeyed hue and you smile to yourself as you recall a rather heated comment from Joel ‘that every goddamn show feels so creative ‘n artsy when they slap the same tones over Mexico’ and then a softer set of words as he had cuddled closer to you on the couch ‘it’s not really like that, I’ve been there, darlin’, trust me’.

“What’re you all gooey lookin’ for, Sabrosa?” Ellie pauses to catch her breath between songs from the newest pop punk album from a band you first enjoyed in your teenage years. Unable to resist the temptation of adding it to your already laden down basket at the bookstore last week when you and the young girl had ditched Joel to run errands. “Ew, gross, don’t think about my dad while I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Oh hush,” You stuck your tongue out at her. Getting a kick out of how casually she sounded. It hadn’t ever been awkward between you two, or her and Sarah despite the six or so years between your birthdays. But then again, Sarah had let you into the secret of the older guy she had started seeing in her graduate program the last time she had been in town visiting… “It’s nothing dirty, just one of his many rants about my choice in television.”

“Lemme guess….oh! The washed-out way they show Mexico, huh? Cause you were watching…oh fuck, what’s that show called…”

“Breaking Bad.” Was the supplied answer from your lips as you turned on the turn signal and began to slow down to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. It wasn’t operating hours quite yet, too early yet for the dinner crowd Joel preferred to cater to. But Ellie had a shift, and you were dropping her off after classes. She wasn’t in either of the ones you teach, having completed the two semester course you had started off with. But you both had a class that ended around the same time, living so close to the university, she liked being able to walk but then catch a ride with you. Tradition, the word rang in your head. Routine, followed it and you smiled wider at the way your life had fleshed out.

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed as she unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back in her chair. “Man, I really don’t have the energy for work today, but the old man said we have a full reservation list and then open seating at the bar.”

“Gonna be that way for a while, the article about him came out only two months ago. Everyone’s clamoring for a chance to try the ‘bursting flavors’ and ‘exciting combinations’ of the renowned Chef Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hot shit right now, at least the restaurant is.” Reaching for her coffee in an imitation of you, she sipped at the whip cream, caramel whatever it is she had gotten. Coffee wasn’t her favorite, so she always got the espresso taken out, a glorified milkshake Joel had teased her once. “Proud of him, though. The restaurant was in shambles when he bought it from the previous owners, some shitty Italian place that never cleaned anything.”

“He’s done good.” You quietly agree, sipping from your own overly complicated drink. That was another tradition of yours and hers, to make your way through the menu at the coffee shops on campus, always pausing to get the special of the month. Joel claimed he didn’t understand the need for so much stuff mixed in with coffee, but you caught him stealing sips of yours if he were to come across it unattended around the house or when you were out and about with him and treated yourself.

“There’s my girls.” Joel chimes as you input your code into the gate for the employee parking and round the side of the building. His voice filtering in through the open windows as you pull into a spot and cut the engine. He’s leaned against the back of the building, cigarette in hand. “Was wondering what took you so long.”

“Accident on the main road, had to detour.” You appease as he approaches to open the door for you and pressed a greeting kiss to your cheek as you roll up the windows. He does the same for Ellie as she sidles up beside him for a side hug before trotting off to the door and disappearing through it. He let’s you pluck the lit cigarette from his fingers as you shoulder your bag and close the door. His hand goes around your waist to walk alongside you toward the building.

“As long as you two are safe, that’s all that matters. Today’s special is spaghetti all nerano, wanna do some grading here and try a plate?” He takes the smoking roll back from your offered hand and takes the last drag before tossing it into the pale beside the door. Opening it and leading you through it with a hand hovering over your lower back.

“That sounds yummy, I’m starving.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder before greeting everyone with a wave.

It’s well into the third hour of service and you never got the chance to leave once the doors opened. The bar had been struggling, Millie having taken over as manager and Mary trying to appease the picky impatient customers who all want a taste of the raved over menu and a glimpse at the alluring Chef Miller.

Picking up a shaker and twisting a bottle of vodka in your grip, you glance at the ticket that just printed and adjust the amount you free pour into it. Mary had been looked so guilty as she approached you’re the table where you do your work on a regular basis, the question of if you were willing to help out getting drinks started for those waiting on tables barely out of her mouth before you were nodding and cleaning up your stuff. It was now safely tucked away in the office and you were moving at a fast pace behind the bar to keep up with everything. Millie stepped down to let you take the reigns, knowing she would only get in your way. Ellie could be seen picking up and dropping off glasses at the well as often as Millie as she acted as barback.

The restaurant was buzzing, excited conversation and pleasant atmosphere making you remember the tingling high of getting off from a busy shift with a wad of cash tucked into your pocket. Just as you place a strainer over the shaker and begin to pour the contents over six shot glasses the door to the kitchen swings open and Joel walks through. You’re too busy, so you shift the chilled shots to the mat over the well and place the corresponding tickets beside them. Moving onto the next drink, you rinse out the shaker with the star sink in place.

His eyes catch yours through the crowd of people when you look up as Ellie comes up to take the shots and then watching as she delivers them, the sound of the shaker loud in your ear as you hold it over your head. His steps don’t falter as he approaches the table, he was delivering the plate to, but you could see something flash over his face. He’s back behind the door as you move to lodge the shaker open.

The night goes by quickly, taking orders for those lucky enough to snag a spot at the bar but hadn’t been able to make a reservation. Shoving each cash tip into a pint glass for the girls and even taking a few business cards from people interested in hosting parties in the space. You’ll be sure to pass those along to Mary, even if some of them requested you as the bartender. You didn’t mind, missing the atmosphere and good moments you had experienced in the setting. Ellie is taking back the remaining dishes from the last few tables, Millie is out back smoking after helping to clean up the bar top when Joel ambles from the kitchen once again.

He's got his chef’s coat unbuttoned and loose around the shirt underneath, the glint of his belt buckle catching the fairy lights around the bar. His steel curls are slicked back, but you could see the frizz and fluffiness where they rested over the back of his neck. He had been saying he needed a haircut, but you had made a sound in the back of your throat that made him put it off.

His eyes are trained on you as you move the trash cans full of empty bottles to line up beside the drink pick up area. You’re about to return behind the bar with a wink thrown over your shoulder when he snakes his hands around your waist and pulls you to him. He smells amazing, the perfect mix of savory spices, smoke, and Joel.

“Playin’ restaurant, huh? Thought you went home and passed out.” He leans down to kiss your jawline.

“Nah, Mary asked for my help when Millie got swamped.” You breath out, hands coming up to rest on his chest and push should he get a little too enthusiastic in you still being here.

“Not your responsibility.” His eyes hold no real heat or command, you know it’s born from a place of worry, of not wanting you to stretch yourself too thin.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.” You cradle his cheek in one hand and play with the collar of his open coat with the other. His eyes glance down, the glitter from your lotion catching the light on your neck and chest.

“Hmm, you looked good. Dress looks good on you, shakin’ those drinks and-“

“Dad, holy crap, it was so busy tonight. Some dude tipped me like fifty percent because he was trying to impress his date!” Ellie plops down on a stool with her server’s book. She doesn’t even look up from where she begins to go over the receipts. “Wait until everyone leaves to start doing that or better yet, wait until you’re home to do that.”

“One day you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna be hard to keep your hands to yourself.” You only giggle at the typical parent response from Joel. Ellie wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but you were sure she would be with the right person, you’d seen her flirty interactions with girls while out with you and your friends, tagging along for the free drinks and to have safe company. She was pretty smooth if she didn’t get into her head too much, soft touches to shoulders and waists, though she steadfastly refused to dance. With anyone, no matter the setting.

“Gross,” She begins to fill out the printed shift report before organizing the receipts in order and then asks you for the stapler. Detangling yourself from the man, you do make it back behind the bar. That’s when she notices the pint glass. “Holy shit! You made all that?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The restaurant did. Here.” You hand the wad of bills over to Joel. With your own shift report and stapled receipts. He uses two nimble fingers to extract the shift report but leaves the cash in your hand. Frowning, you track the report as it’s tucked into his back pocket along with Ellie’s. Her own cash tips secure in her booklet.

“Also gonna see about getting some of the petty cash from the safe for the hours you worked.” He begins to take the full bags from the trash cans, tying the ends together tight.

“Joel.”

“You worked, you get paid.” He doesn’t look up as he reaches into the bottom for the rolls sitting inside and begins to place new ones over the lips of the plastic.

“I’m your girlfriend. Who used to work here. I was just helping out.”

“Nope, not gonna fly, darlin’. It’s yours.” He slides the empties cans back around the bar for you to put back in their designated places.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Ellie reaches for it and you let her swipe it from your hand. Only for Joel to set her with a look. “Oooor not.” She says as she puts it down atop the clean bar top.

“Joel!”

“Can’t hear you, Sabrosa, gotta make sure the kitchen duties were done.”

“Seriously, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” You quirk an eyebrow at the younger girl, but Millie bounces up and says everyone was going out for a bite at the taco truck parked a few blocks down. They have a spot in a lot that has picnic tables and offer late night service. Ellie takes off, ensuring you she’ll text either you or Joel when she’s back at the townhouse afterwards. She’d been staying the second bedroom there more and more, as you found yourself splitting your time pretty evenly between it and Joel’s. He would join you sometimes, but certain nights either you needed you own space or he did and that was okay.

Sighing, you lock the patron door behind her and turn the sign from open to closed.

As you’re double checking everything is shut down properly, you open the washer to let the last load of glasses air dry, the steam billowing out. Turning when you hear the swing of the kitchen door again, Joel has his chef’s coat tossed over his shoulder and his backpack over the other. His eyes zone in on the cash and then a smirk takes over his face. You turn your attention back to the washer and ensure it’s off before you round the bar top and makes sure it was swept underneath the stools. You’re about to ask him which car you were gonna take home when you spot a crumpled napkin you must’ve missed.

As you bend down to pick it up, you feel thick fingers sneak beneath the skirt of your dress. You don’t think anything of it until you feel Joel tuck a bill from the stack into the band of your panties. Knuckles grazing against your slit as he moves to the other hip and does the same. You shoot up, the napkin forgotten as you try to turn around.

“Nu-uh,” His palms come to rest on your lower back and shoulders, bending you over one of the stools as the heat of his body looms close. He whispers something about having to scrub the video cameras set up around the dining room before you hear the clink of his belt being undone and feel him move your panties to the side. You throb at the feel of the cooler air circulating around the room, a gasp leaving your lips as he gently runs the head of his cock over your folds, arousal from you both making it such a smooth motion.

As he reaches over your back for something, he fills you up, the stretch of his girth feeling like a reward for the hectic shift completed. But you know the night would’ve ended like this either way.

A moan rips from your chest as he grabs a hold of whatever he had been trying to get, hips flush with yours. He chuckles, pleased with himself before his hands sneak around to cup your breasts as they threaten to spill out from your dress at the prone position. His fingers tuck more bills into your underwear, beneath the straps over your shoulders, into the already full cups to peak out over the swell of your chest. He even tucks one into the mess of your hair thrown up into a clip at the back of your head before his hands secure around your waist and he begins to thrust.

That’s the last memory you have of both smoking and drinking, only a few days before you had anxiously waited for a piece of plastic to tell you your fate. It was now a month since finding out, Joel making sure to go with you to get confirming bloodwork and a full physical. The headaches from missing both finally having abated. Joel on the other hand, he was sneaking cigarettes, you could smell the lingering smoke on him when would come home and you were still up. It didn’t really bother you, knowing he indulged for far longer than you had in the bad habit. But you missed the social aspect of the act, of seeking out the designated spots around campus and chatting, of sitting out on the back patio with Tommy as he enjoyed one on the evenings he stopped by with his own little family for dinner.

But it was all worth it, you mused as you poured yourself a cup of steaming water into what was once your coffee mug. Tea was something you indulged in now, the cupboard filled with the different types you were trying to work your way through to see what would help with the onslaught of nausea and also appealed to your tastebuds. You preferred the fruity ones, just like you did with your cocktails, hence the nickname Ellie had graced you with that stuck.

Jingling keys and heavy footsteps signaled you to Joel’s return, the sun still shining on the calm afternoon. He had been gone when you showed up at his house, a cookout planned for the day. Tommy and Maria had been here an hour, the grill just about ready for the first of many things to be cooked and the pool was sparkling as it awaited the arrival of Sarah and Ellie. You had spent the morning cleaning it of debris and adding a few treatment drops. The whole family getting together. It was good, it was a good feeling being surrounded by them all. You and Maria hitting it off even more over the news of what was to come. Her own child now nearing two, she had given birth while you and Joel were split. But you had sent a care package and visited her in the hospital with her favorite takeout.

It was so domestic, so full a life…it made you wonder why you hadn’t been able to experience it as a child yourself.

“Missed ya, darlin’.” Joel steps up behind you and embraces you. Kissing your temple, you feel the frown mar his lips as you don’t respond. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his chest. He smells like cinnamon and the grill brick he used while closing up the restaurant after a brunch shift and you breathe him in as you press your face into his broad chest.

“Gotta shower, wanna join me?’

“The girls will be here soon.” You hold him tighter, missing your own family even if it had never been the same as his own. Dinner once a month with your own father, no visits offered or initiated, grandparents raising you since you were young. A mother who had passed early due to complications from cancer she hadn’t known she had until she was pregnant with you herself. “Wanna make sure everything is ready for them.”

He peppers kisses into your hair before pulling away and disappearing upstairs.

The afternoon continues, the smell of grilling meat and roasting vegetables lilting into the air alongside ruckus laughter and bad jokes. Everyone is comfortable around the patio and the in the pool, food served and consumed. Just a few bites left of everything, Joel ensuring you that he would heed your cravings and what you felt like you could stomach, not worried about leftovers lately.

“So when do we get to meet the rest of the Sabrosa clan?” Tommy askes around the lip of his beer bottle. He’s across from you at the table, Joel off by the grill as he messes with something he hadn’t let you sneak a peak at.

“Oh, um…you don’t?” Caught off guard, the bite of food falls from your plastic fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“No siblings or nothin?”

“Um, well-“ Clearing your throat you take the bite and chew it contemplatively. Honesty or the thinly veiled truth? Your mind is working hard, something Maria must hear in her seat beside you at the patio table. She shoots Tommy a look you catch out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep calm so the child in dozing in her arms doesn’t stir. “I’ve got two half-siblings, but we don’t keep in contact much.”

“They gonna be at the wedding?”

“What wedding?” “Oh my god, dad! You proposed and didn’t tell us!” Ellie and Sarah holler from where they’re in the pool, one of them resting on a floating device and the other is practicing her laps to get more comfortable in the water. Joel turns from where he was ensuring the grill was off and brings over the s’mores dip he had just let melt to perfection. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the gooey swirl of marshmallow and dark chocolate, of the rye biscuits he must’ve whipped up at work steaming beside it in a single use tin. Set up with a divider in the middle.

“Haven’t proposed to ‘er yet, quit it.” He sits it down atop a trivet, but no one makes a move to reach for it until he gives the go ahead. But he doesn’t until he’s got one of the dark biscuits covered in the dip and set in front of you. Then it was fair game as the girls begin to swim across the length of the pool, or well Sarah tries to glide her floaty across while Ellie does. Tommy readies one for Maria before making his own, quirking an eyebrow at you as he watches the pull of the dip.

“But your dad is gonna walk you down the aisle, right?” Tommy presses on, not catching onto the awkward way you were shifting in your seat or how you had placed your fork down to rest on the edge of your paper plate. The dessert untouched. But you don’t get to think of an answer before one is flying from your emotionless face.

“Can’t, he’s dead.”

Silence falls over the once happy and jovial backyard, the splash of Sarah slipping from her floating longue echoing.

“Tommy.” Joel’s voice is firm as he pins his brother with a mild glare. Maria is equally unpleased with her husband’s penchant for talking without thinking, not reading the room. He yelps as she kicks his shin underneath the table.

“It’s okay, wasn’t much of a father when he was alive anyway.” You reach for the mocktail you had made a pitcher of for you and the girls to enjoy. No one says anything as you pour yourself another and take a sip from it. Not liking the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, you gather up your nearly empty plate and stack it atop Maria’s to take inside, making more room for the messy dessert. Slinking away, you feel Maria reach out a hand to trail down your arm, comforting you before you’re gone back into the house.

“You dumbfuck.” Ellie mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Joel over his shoulder for her language. But he doesn’t disagree. You do, but it wasn’t his fault. How was Tommy supposed to know he had picked the one subject you had nothing good to say about?

“Shit, I- holy shit.” Tommy’s voice follows you before he yelps a second time as Joel brandishes the still warm tongs from serving biscuits.  

“Way to shove your foot in your mouth, we were havin’ a good time.”

“I didn’t know! I thought she was just quiet about her family not that she didn’t have any.”

“Tommy, you’re the father of my child and my husband but you are seriously so stupid sometimes.”

“Dad, she-she doesn’t have any family?” Sarah is tearing up, affected by the sudden realization of why you never brought anyone around except for a friend every once in a while. She could understand not having a mother, as her own was so distant, only showing up when she needed something or felt lonely in the life she created for herself. But to not have a dad? That was all she knew and she couldn’t fathom how her life would have been without him in it;.

“She’s got us, baby girl.” Joel goes to run a hand over her shoulder and press a kiss to the fluff of her kinky curls as she stands beside the pool set into the ground outside the patio. He wraps the towel she brought out around her and rubs it across her shoulders before lifting his hands. “We’re her family, pretty good deal, huh?”

“Dad….”

“She’ll be okay, I promise.”

The laid back vibe from the afternoon returns once everyone piles into the living room to watch the season finale of an admittedly awful reality tv show. But everyone was hooked and harmless bets were made on who would cause the most drama and how things would end. You’re a little subdued, but you make comments along with everyone else and laugh at the absurdity of what happens on the screen.

Stepping out of the bath you had decided to soak in, you startle when you see Joel sat on the small bench in the master bathroom across from the vanity as you pull back the shower curtain. He’s already changed into his sleep pants, his freckled and bronzed chest on display through the steam.

“Darlin’, why didn’t you tell me your dad was passed?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” You stand in front of him, taking in the way he watches you through the mirror as you press a bead of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and wet it before popping it into your mouth. A heavy silence fills the room, tangling with the rose scented steam from the bubble bar you had used. The pink water swirling down the sink a near silent hum.

“It-uh, kinda does. Makes me feel…like a whole wedding would be…”

“You don’t have to ask me. We don’t have to get married if it’s going to be a problem.” Shoving down the worries and residual guilt of being raised in a certain religious culture at the thought of having a child out of wedlock, having a child as a single woman you catch the man’s gaze through the mirror. The burn of embarrassment simmers beneath your skin, shame for feeling such embarrassment sparkling behind it, creating a swirl of emotions you hadn’t wanted to feel this close to bed with an early class. You want to marry him, to experience that with him, to live life together as husband and wife, but it feels perfunctory when you didn’t even believe in the reasoning behind why you felt that way. He’s frowning, his brows knit close together, something off in the depths of his brown eyes.

“It’s not a problem…right?” You see the worry flickering through him, in the way his eyes shift and the way he clenches his fists in his lap. “I just…you know you’re a part of the Millers. Have been since the moment you caught my attention, but baby…I don’t want you to feel lonely if it’s my family and your friends.”

“Are you insinuating because I don’t have a family of my own, I’m somehow missing something?” Anger flared hot and sticky in you, washing out the embarrassment. The heat from your bath making it so much worse and you cross the room to pull the door open. Back at the vanity, you ignore his gaze and rinse out your mouth before moving on to clean and moisturize your face. He’s quiet behind you, knowing he phrased his sentiment wrong and this…this communication was new for you both. Still hard sometimes as you both realize how deep some things run and how different you could be.

“You know I’m not.” The gaze he has trained on you reminds you of the way he would watch you through the kitchen, tensions high as you both couldn’t seem to get your heads out of the dirt and just be honest with each other. A time that had passed, allowing for the present to bloom.

“Then a wedding wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s kind of moot, you haven’t proposed.” You don’t anticipate the slight edge to the words as they leave your lips, but they slice through the air. You feel shame overtake the waning anger, making your face hot underneath your massaging hands. The burn of tears threaten to ruin the routine you just completed and you hiccup as your hands flatten atop the vanity, head hanging between your shoulders. You do not like this, but you have no idea where it’s coming from. It really doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t asked. You know he has the intention to, the agreement of a visit to town hall and then a small party to celebrate. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, simple.

“Hey,” He whispers as he comes up behind you, hands resting over the quick beating of your heart, his naked chest pressed to your back, the damp towel the only thing separating you. But you can feel his own heart between your shoulder blades, strong and sturdy. Grounding you in the way you had explained you preferred when overwhelmed. “I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you, just want you to be comfortable, to have everything you deserve.”

You let him help you to dry off the rest of your body, lotion lovingly applied to your body by his hands before you slip into a nightgown and slip between the sheets beside him. You kiss an apology to his lips, needing him to know that it was just initial panic and not the real way you thought or felt. He accepts it and offers one of his own, lips pressed to your chest, right over your heart before sleep takes ahold of you both.

“I said don’t.” You warned, no humor in your voice. You had tried and failed to put on every one of your pairs of pants, jeans, leggings, and none of them were comfortable. None of them zipped, buttoned, or stretched enough underneath the slight bump that had seemingly blossomed overnight. Joel was sprawled on the bed, working his way to getting up at the late hour. He had been at the restaurant late, later than usual as they had a party stay well after service hours. He had let the staff go on time, ensuring they would get the tip out but not wanting them to have to stay once all the cleaning and side work was done. One of the many things you adored about the man, his willingness to heed situations like that in favor of his staff even if he was gruff and to the point most of the day.

“Didn’t say nothin’, darlin’.” He rumbled from beneath the sheets, tan skin looking deliciously golden paired with the pale pink set you had insisted changing from the white that had previously been curled around the mattress. You had woken up with bad cramps last month, terrified something had happened as you pulled back the covers to find blood spotting the pristine fabric. A quick trip the emergency room as he shared in your panic, albeit in a more controlled way, assured you that spotting was normal during the early months of pregnancy.

“Dress...” You muttered to yourself, hand cradling around the small bump. Joel only hummed, stretching out to alleviate his sore body, thick legs appeared from beneath the fabric. Your eyes traced the long lines of his body through the mirror atop the dresser, drinking in the sight of him and your body began to thrum with arousal. When your eyes roved up the expanse of his broad chest dusted with dark hair to his face, he was smirking at you with an eyebrow arched in a silent question of how long you would ignore his deliberate departure from the bed.

You had all but jumped him when he got home last night, papers you were grading scattered all around you on the couch and coffee table, a Josh Gates show on the television for moral encouragement. He had teased you once about your affinity for the man but you had clapped back with his borderline obsession with Anthony Bourdain, to which he simply said ‘can’t help it darlin’, the man knew his shit’.

The dinner he had brought home had been tossed to the entry way table, as you knelt down to help remove him from his shoes and pants. Mouthing at the line of him through his boxer briefs before he could even get his keys hooked on the mirror over the table. He had been prepared to find you fast asleep, a different kind of tired taking hold of you more and more, almost demanding naps during the day when you got home from campus and right before dinner if you hadn’t worked. But you had sprung up from your spot and welcomed him home, the food forgotten in favor of getting your fill of the man that had been consuming your thoughts. The thought makes his cock fill, twitching underneath the sheets as he recalls your enthusiasm.

He sees the way your eyes dilate at the movement, the hush of his hand skimming down to grip himself.

Suddenly, you’re no longer debating over the clothing flowing from the draws inside the closet or those of the dresser. You peeled the pants you had been fruitlessly trying to zip up and nearly threw yourself at him. He greedily accepts your frantic kisses, starting from his shins and all the way up neck to finally connect with his own. He groans at the taste of coffee you had allowed yourself this morning, his own cup still steaming on the bedside table. His glasses beside it, his cellphone lighting up only to be ignored.

“Does mama need some attention?” He breathes into your open mouth, large palms caressing the exposed skin of your hips. His hands graze your middle, and you shy away from him, self-conscious of the extra jiggle, the stretchmarks from rapid weight fluctuation of your years now accommodating the swell of the beginning signs of the life you two had created together. “Hey, no, c’mere.”

You’re sure he sees the flicker of emotions across your face before you school it into a cool arch of your brow, the playful smirk of your lips. Falling back on bravado that wanes far too quickly these days as your hormones ping pong all over the place. You were just as apt to burst into silent tears as you were to jump him, confusing for you and devasting for him as he tries to read your moods as well as he can. He was hoping to dislodge the habit of you seeking refuge in the townhouse you had gifted Ellie, her own budding relationship prompting her to ask for her own space just as the new stage of your life became known to them. Equal parts of respect for the more tender and tense moments sure to happen and yearning for her own space again.

“Mama needs some new clothes, wanna spoil me?” Your voice is a confident hush, hands reaching forward to urge him to shift closer, both of you on your sides and facing each other.

“Do anythin’ for you, darlin’, you know that.” His teeth sunk into the curve of your neck, tugging you back to him. That seemed to get you to forget your insecurities as he felt you pull him closer, your smaller hands so soft on his chest as they caressed his skin.

“I think I wanna go to that fancy mall, maybe get some pretty underwear that won’t make me feel like a total loser.”

“I’ll take ya anywhere you want, maybe even that big shopping center in Dallas? It’ll be just like the trip we took to Arizona. Could get a hotel, see the sights and just relax. Hear they have a mac and cheese restaurant in the arts district.” He rolls to pin you down, and you move to allow him space between your legs instinctually. Body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck, your chest, he lets his words sink in. The bralette you had put on doing nothing to hide the perk of your nipples. He laps at them through the thin fabric, delighting in the way it makes you arch up into him. You were so sensitive to his touch lately, your body on high alert as your hormones fluctuate erratically.

“That’s a lot, Joel. Shouldn’t we-“ Your hesitant words are cut off by a searing kiss, the press of his skin against yours making it hard to keep your train of thought.

“We should do what we want, darlin’. Wanna get everything sorted to go this weekend?”

Tears are suddenly pitter pattering over the sheets, darkening the fabric where they land after rolling down the sides of your face. He pushes his weight from where it pressed you to the bed, back on your sides and you let him, unable to stem the tears.

“Oh hey, hey it’s okay,” Joel crowds close, the thin fabric separating your bodies as you bury your face in his neck and curl your legs up, knees pressing into his stomach. Hiccups startle you both as you find it suddenly hard to breath through the onslaught of emotions spiking. “Hey now, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into his skin, embarrassment flaring up hot in your cheeks and chest. You feel so silly, pulled in too many directions in so quick a succession. “I just…you’re so hot and I’m all bloated and my skin feels all tight and I really want some ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re happily spooning a sundae into your mouth with a red plastic spoon in the passenger seat of his truck. All the tears and frustration gone from you as you held tight to the treat in your hands with far too many flimsy napkins. He’s got a cigarette dangling from the hand he rests on the inside of the door, trying to keep as much smoke from wafting back into the cab as possible. Errands, today was an errand day and you smiled over at him. Pairs of sunglasses meeting, eyes hidden beneath them. He just leans over to press a kiss to your temple, not wanting to disrupt your enjoyment of the ice cream you literally cried over.

next chapter

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@regalwhovianbrowncoat774

@pazizz

[abiiors]

HI HELLO HI this is a half-formed, fully horny, wedding guest ross concept. i'm not fully back to writing yet but ross in white is a damn good muse!!!!

cw: minors dni!!! smut, finger fucking in a bathroom, alcohol consumption, smoking, typos probably-i wrote this at work

you haven't really met a lot of john's friends yet, that's probably why you don't remeber seeing this handsome stranger across the bar, cigarette dangling between his fingers, a glass of whiskey in his hands that he sips from so lazily.

he's busy in conversation, you're busy gawking at him, wondering how you've never seen him before (and this you're sure of because let's face it, there's no way you're forgetting this man if you'd ever had the chance to talk to him before.) much to your surprise, he's alone--well, his group of friends is there and he seems particularly close with the groom but there's no date in sight. at least you hope not, because you've definitely caught him staring a few times--long, hard, lingering stares that make you feel like you're about to spontaneously combust.

"this seat taken?" he comes up from behind you just when you're think he's too busy socialising. you smile to yourself, throw him a coy smile too.

"not if you're the one asking."

"is that right?" he smirks and settles into the chair. up close he's hotter somehow--the white shirt clings to him in ways that have you drooling. he takes a quick drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke to one side.

"ross," he introduces himself quickly, "no one told me there would be gorgeous bridesmaids."

you take a sip of your wine and tsk, "'m not a bridesmaid."

"so you're not off limits then?"

"off limits for...?"

he takes a sip of his whisky and leans in, almost like he's about to divulge a secret. then he looks you up and down slowly, gaze landing on your lips. you get the vague sense that he's undressing you in his head, and it sends heat swirling in your gut. "don't pretend like you weren't undressing me with your eyes, darling."

"and if i admitted to it?" you challenge, "what will you do about it?"

ross leans even closer, his breath fanning your face, his fingers are on your wrist, cool from the whiskey and deliciously callused. he draws circles on the skin. "i hear the first floor bathroom is not open to guests."

"is that right?" you mimic him, smirking when he nods.

"we can sneak in though. if you want?"

in one quick gulp you finish your wine and stand, smoothing down your dress that reaches just past your knees. he's up in an instant too, towering over you and so close that you can practically taste the heat radiating off him.

"lead the way," you giggle and he takes your hand in his.

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

the marble edges of the countertop dig into your ass, his fingers dig into your thighs, and yet all of that simply fades to the background when you kiss--hungry and feverish, teeth clashing against each other, your lip caught between his teeth until you hiss and he slips his tongue in.

his hand snakes down your side, effortlessly undoing the hidden zip until you feel cool breeze against your ribs, and then his fingers--his big, warm, rough fingers, tracing the visible skin, leaving goosebumps behind.

hastily you loosen his tie and move on to his belt, fumbling with it until it's almost undone. ross laughs into your mouth.

"so impatient!" he tsks, "is that how much you want me?"

"the undressing with my eyes didn't give it away?" you retort, and finally undo the belt, sliding it out of the hooks and off his waist. it goes flying in some corner of the bathroom, clinks against a wall.

"turn," he pants, and the moment you obey, his hand are on the straps, pulling them down and off your shoulders until the dress falls just below your chest.

"fuck, darling!" he curses at the sight in the mirror--you, utterly breathless with messy hair and swollen lips. your peaked nipples are fully on display now. his eyes turn darker, taking you in hungrily, then he moves.

the moment his fingers close around your nipples, you moan, head thrown back and eyes closed and ass backed into his crotch where you can feel him completely. he's painfully hard and deliciously big and just the thought of him in you makes you clench around nothing.

"oh you are testing me," you grit out, desperate to be touched. his fingers circling your nipples feels good, his hand snaking down your body feels good, but you need more and more and more, you need him until everything other memory in you brain is replaced by the feel of his cock pounding into you.

he laughs, mouth hot on your neck, "what would you like me to do then?"

"touch me!" you hiss.

"like this?" his hand snakes down, bunching up the fabric of your dress until it's lifted up and around your waist. you close your eyes in anticipation, waiting, shivering when his fingers trace the inside of your thigh--up and up and up and---

"oops," ross grins, and rips the flimsy lacy underwear off you in one smooth motion. you gape at him in the mirror, but then his fingers are on you, circling your clit at a delicious pace and the buzzing in your head grows so loud, you forget the stupid underwear and forget the cold marble digging into your hips.

you moan, clutching on to the countertops when your knees threaten to buckle. "yes--god, yes, like that..."

tentatively he dips a finger in you and your breath hitches. ross clearly likes the reaction because a moment later he plunges a finger inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, thrusting the finger in and out and in and out until without warning he adds a second and you have to bite on the palm of your hands to stifle your scream.

"fuck, you'll kill me with those sounds you make," he growls in your ear, and increases his pace. you barely care to answer, mumbling something in gibberish, entirely focused on the feel of his fingers dipping in and out of you, of his thumb pressing into your clit and his cock digging into your ass.

heaven...is exactly how you'd describe it. your body agrees too--tensing and tensing until you're panting and barely even controlling the moans anymore. fuck it, it's fine if anyone walks in at this point. you and ross can put on a good show!

"'m so close," you moan, "ke-keep going, shit!"

and he does, his other hand snakes around your hips, holding you in place so he can reach deeper, hit your sweet spot with his long, thick fingers every time. your head spins, overwhelmed, dizzy and---

there's no warning like there usually is, all you know is that your vision goes white, your body feels slack and with a cry you cum all over his hand, holding onto the countertop to stay upright somehow. ross holds you too, dipping his fingers in and out slowly so you can ride out your orgasm. his hand feels wet and slick, your release coating his fingers. he looks like he's enjoying it though...

the moment you open your eyes, he holds your jaw in place, making you look at him in the mirror, them he places his fingers on his tongue, licking and sucking every corner, making you watch the filthy scene unfolding, making you wetter by the minute somehow.

"delicious," he moans, right in your ear. "ready for round two?"

you bite your lip and nod. "ready for round two."

[anticidic]

Literal Casino AU where the ADA takes a trip to Sigma's casino because they're supposedly investigating something but then it turns into:

Atsushi getting overwhelmed by all of the sounds and blinking lights and cigarette smoke and having no idea where to start, because a lot of the games seem fun.

Kunikida in a corner stuck on a slot machine insisting he can beat the casino, he's bound to win at some point because he's only lost up until now. It's all about probability.

Dazai playing roulette and garnering a crowd because he's a little too good at predicting the outcome that staff and security are getting suspicious that he's cheating, but everyone around him is awestruck. (He already got banned by the card tables for being a know-it-all lil shit)

Then enter the Port Mafia:

Chuuya's playing craps the whole time and not-so-subtly using his ability to make them land on the sides he bet on. Dazai ends up seeing this and he sneaks up behind Chuuya at some point and taps him on the shoulder just as Chuuya uses his ability again. Chuuya went all in on his bet, lost, the crowd gasps and Dazai slinks away

Mori has to drag Chuuya away from the table before he flips out over all the money he lost. Don't worry you'll make it all back in another paycheck

Chuuya put two-and-two together when he notices Dazai trying to creep off and disappear into the crowd. He angrily downs a drink or two because he spent so much money they were on the house. (Dazai steals one of his drinks at some point)

They end up arguing at the bar while sipping colorful cocktails and Dazai can't even take it seriously, but Chuuya's mad over the fact that it was Dazai messing with him. But, like, Chuuya shouldn't have been cheating in the first place. No, using your ability is not just giving yourself a small advantage.

Then Atsushi walks over at the perfect time and asks Dazai how he, too, can learn to be great at poker winkwink and Dazai and Chuuya argue over who cheated more

[sanjoongie]

Downtown

ღPairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader (f)

ღAu: office worker au, club goer au

ღTrope: strangers to lovers, age gap (10 years between younger Hongjoong and older reader)

ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut, angst

ღWarnings: alluding to sleeping with Hongjoong, somnophilia, oral (f), alluding to being fucked by Hongjoong on his kitchen table

ღWord Count: 3,229

ღSummary: when you stumble out of work late on a Saturday, a curious club goer wonders who you are and what you're doing and it's all downhill from there

ღBeta's: @flurrys-creativity @mejuii @downtoamagicalland

You raised your hand to rub at your tired eyes but quickly brought them down to not touch your beyond-twelve-hours make-up. The last thing you needed was to rub your mascara in and add to the dark bags under your eyes. You pulled the lapels to your jacket closer to your neck and pulled out your phone. What would be quicker, flagging down a taxi or ordering an uber?

This wasn’t your first rodeo, working on reports in your office until 2am on a Saturday. The repeat of the schedule wasn’t preferred but when your job was always on the line and it was expected of you, you did what you could to maintain a paycheck incoming to your bank account. All you wanted to do was shuffle home and get into something comfy and--

“Do you have a lighter?”

You blinked slowly at the heavy make-upped face in front of you. A shock of blue hair haloed his face and the charming grin calmed your beating heart that one of the homeless wasn’t here to harass you. By the look of this guy's clothes, he was stumbling out of a club at 2am. 

“I don’t smoke, sorry,” you mumbled and started to side walk away from the stranger. 

“Ah shit, there it is!” The guy smiled triumphantly, having dug into his pant’s pockets for a flashy lighter that had the initials of either a rich person or an expensive label. “Wait!” His face fell when he saw how far away you were. “Where are you going?”

You pulled a tight, customer-service smile at him. “Look, I’m sure you’re looking for a good time, still half-drunk and making your way home when the bar closed, but I’m just trying to go home after a long day, if you don’t mind…” You ducked your head and walked a bit quicker down the street.

“I’m not looking to harass you or anything, come on!” The guy called after you. You winced when you could hear the clicking of his dress shoes on the sidewalk behind you.

You stopped abruptly. “I don’t know if you’re into an older woman type thing but,” you paused to wave vaguely at the skimpily dressed girl across the street cooing at him, “they seem primed and ready to take up your offer.”

The guy took a drag of his cigarette, contemplating you. “I don’t want them.”

You had to laugh at his audacity. “Well, I don’t want you, sir. Goodnight.”

“Just call it late night curiosity!” He continued to follow you. “If you’re not coming from the clubs, where did you come from in your high heels and felt jacket?”

“My job,” you replied curtly.

“Your…?” That made him stumble. “You were at your job until 2am?!” He said in disbelief.

You stopped again. If you just had to answer a few questions to get this guy off your back, maybe that was better than him following you late in the night. “Listen,” you raised your eyebrows, indicating it was his turn to give you his name.

“Hongjoong,” he grunted, eyes still wide with curiosity.

“Hongjoong,” you continued, “my life is clearly not the same as yours.” You motion to his one-of-a-kind suit. “We’re cut from a different cloth. If I don’t finish typing up reports or doing invoices or other boring office activities, they’ll fire me and hire someone fresh off the street. They don’t care, as long as the work is done and on time. So if it takes me until 2am on a weekend night, so be it.”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you sure I didn’t catch you leaving the office late after blowing your boss or something secretive like that? Maybe digging for corporate secrets to sell?”

Maybe it was your brain almost being dead, but you let his suggestive thoughts roll off your back. You snorted in response. “You’ve watched too many movies. Yes, I’m sure you didn’t catch me doing a plot to a porno or a spy documentary. Now, have I satisfied your curiosity?”

Hongjoong watched as your toe tapped in impatience. “What are you going to do now?” He shot back a question, ignoring your own.

“I’m trying to go home so I can get into something baggy and comfortable and hopefully sleep until the late afternoon,” you intoned. 

Hongjoong visually perked up. “Hopefully sleep?”

You sighed heavily. “I’m an insomniac.”

He smiled happily, for what reason, you hadn't a clue, until: “Me too.”

You offered your hand to him in a professional handshake. “Nice to meet you, fellow insomniac, now, can I please--?”

Hongjoong’s phone dinged and he pulled it from his pocket. “Car’s almost here.”

You winced. You looked up and down the street, which was almost ghosttown-like in its cold abandon. You had not flagged down a cab nor ordered an Uber like you had planned. Your feet hurt and your shoulders ached and you were still talking to this stranger--

“Wanna share a car?” Hongjoong tossed the half smoked cigarette to the ground and snubbed it with the toe of his shoes.

“I--” The no was begging to roll off your tongue but a shiver went through you. “You don’t even know where I’m going?!”

Hongjoong shrugged with one shoulder. “If you want--”

“No.” This time it was prudent that you stomp down on that thought.

Hongjoong smiled but it was a little sly. “I can offer you late night ramyun and a blackout room.”

You hummed in sarcasm. “Uh huh, and no strings attached too, I suppose.”

A car pulled up and Hongjoong opened the door. “The carriage is leaving, Cinderella.”

Curiosity was killing you now. What would his place look like? Ramyun sounded real good right now and you knew you would be up as soon as the sun rose because your bedroom barely kept the light out. If you could get one good night's sleep-- 

“Fuck it! Fine, let's go.”

Oddly enough, the night was as PG as an adult night could go. Hongjoong’s curious questions didn’t hold a sliver of maliciousness to them. He told you about his life as a trust fund kid with a passion for fashion and you told him about your ridiculous coworkers over the steam of spicy noodles. Once your stomach was full, Hongjoong showed you his guest room and offered you some of the softest pj’s you had ever had the pleasure of putting on your body. And you slept like the dead. 

When you woke up the next day, however, you were starting to feel a little stupid. Why the hell did you sleep in some stranger’s place without even the benefit of actually sleeping with said stranger???

You tiptoed across the polished hardwood floor and past the exposed brick walls, having made up the bed you had slept in and folded the pajamas. You really didn’t want to encounter the owner of said pajamas, fearful he would hold you down with more questions and not let you leave like last night. 

“How’d you sleep?”

You jumped a foot in the air and squealed. You turned around and your breath caught in your throat. Along with the husky voice, sleepy Hongjoong really cut a figure. His hair was mussed and he was currently trying to rearrange it to no avail. His tired smile was charming. He moved to the island where a French press was clearly waiting for him. 

“Uh, surprisingly well,” you offered.

“Surprisingly?” Hongjoong wondered.

You wobbled on your ankle, having toed on your heels. “Listen, Hongjoong…” Hongjoong gave you his full, undivided attention and it was a bit unnerving to be on the receiving end of it. You stuttered, faltering on your firm words. “A-about last ni-night.”

“You don’t owe me anything, if you’re worried.” Hongjoong gave that one-shoulder gallic shrug of his again. “I just wanted to help out a fellow insomniac.”

“Right,” you said lamely. 

Hongjoong sipped his coffee, peering over his mug at you with unreadable eyes. 

“So… I’ll see you around,” you tried again.

Hongjoong dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Downtown. Same time, same place?”

A ghost of a smile pulled at your lips. “If I know my job,” you huffed.

“Then it’s a date.”

Then it’s a date echoed in your head for a few weeks. How could a man be so clingy and yet let you go without any information? Why the hell did he let you sleep at his place? It was all so very weird.

And yet when you saw him after stumbling out of your office late at night once again, you couldn't help the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You stomped them out immediately. He probably didn’t even remember you!

“Hey, Workaholic.” Hongjoong raised a hand to wave at you.

You let out some air. “Hey, Hongjoong.”

“Another late night with the boss again?” He teased you. 

You nodded studiously. “A blowjob a day keeps the hunger at bay.”

Hongjoong snorted. “Do you want to--?”

“Ah, Hongjoong, I don’t think--”

“What, the chance to sleep in my lavish pjs isn’t enough of an incentive?” 

You stomped your foot in frustration. “Don’t you think this is a little weird?” 

“Weird that I invited you to my place to let you get a little rest?” Hongjoong finished your thought.

“Yes!” You shouted triumphantly.

“No.”

You sighed. “Seriously, Hongjoong, it’s weird.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Hongjoong persisted. “Oh look, the car is here.”

“I’m not going with you this time,” You said coolly and folded your arms over your chest.

“No?” Hongjoong lifted an eyebrow at you.

“No!” You insisted. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong did his one-shoulder shrug and moved to open the door to the SUV. “But just to let you know, I bought you slippers.”

“Slippers?” You screwed up your face in confusion.

“You’ll never know if you don’t come.”

So you found yourself in Hongjoong’s elaborate highrise place, still wondering what the fuck you were doing. “I have a whole bedtime kit for you, including some tea I find helpful and a playlist and--”

“Hongjoong, seriously, what the fuck?” You interrupted rather severely. 

Hongjoong looked slightly sad but hopeful. “I want to help.”

“Some random stranger who is also an insomniac?”

“Exactly.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that I'm a woman?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Right.”

“You’d do this if I was a guy?”

“Yes.”

“You sleep with guys too, don’t you?” 

“Yup.”

You rubbed your temples, trying to understand with your sleep-deprived brain what this was. Hongjoong was a few steps away from you now. “Would it help if I actually slept with you?” He offered.

“Yes, actually, that would make a lot more sense,” you agreed without truly understanding what you said.

Hongjoong’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curled at the tips and you felt those butterflies again. “No, that’s not what I meant! I just--”

“If I was fucking you, you wouldn’t be as confused,” Hongjoong supplied.

You scratched your neck awkwardly. “Yeah…”

“You know what also helps with sleeping?” Hongjoong persisted.

“A knock out punch?” You joked.

“An orgasm.”

Your heart skipped a beat this time. “Hongjoong, be serious.”

“I am serious.” Hongjoong had crept closer as you talked, an arm's length from you now. 

“I already told you, I don’t want you,” you insisted.

“You did.” Hongjoong's gaze said he didn't believe it.

“It is the older woman thing, isn't it?” You frowned.

“Nope, not an older woman thing.” Hongjoong caught his tongue between his teeth cutely.

“Hongjoong, please, help me understand why this is a thing?” You pleaded.

“Does it ever make sense, when two people are drawn to each other?” Hongjoong put two hands on your upper shoulders and pushed off your jacket. 

He had you there! 

“Let me help you sleep?” Hongjoong offered, genuine concern radiating off him.

“From one insomniac to another?” You said mirthlessly.

Hongjoong shook his head. “From someone who's wondering what you look like without bruises under your eyes.”

And thus your friends with benefits exchange began. Hongjoong honored your original situation and never asked for your number or contact information. If the two of you happened to stumble upon each other, him leaving the club and you from your office, you went home with him. It had an odd sense of intimacy with no strings. Hongjoong spoiled you rotten but then you never heard from him until the next fateful meeting. It still didn’t make sense to you but you were starting to assume that was how this was always going to go.

There were a few nights where you genuinely thanked Hongjoong but wondered if you couldn't sleep in the guest room by yourself. He’d shrug and agree, whatever was best for you, of course. But when you woke up with him kissing up the inside your thigh one particular night, you knew he had changed his mind.

“Please,” he murmured against your skin. “Please let me eat you up.”

“Ho-hongjoong!” You stuttered. 

His kisses didn’t stop, unbuttoning the silk pj top you slept in while you were over from the bottom up. He revealed your very normal underwear that absolutely had not matched your bra today. His nose dived into your cunt and he breathed in deeply. When he raised his head, you could tell he was still half drunk from the bar. 

“Please? Wanna eat you out,” he pouted generously. 

“You, sir, need to sleep this off,” you insisted.

“Let me take care of you,” Hongjoong whined.

You watched in wonder as Hongjoong hooked a finger around the elastic of your underwear and pulled them to the side. His eyes wandered over your exposed cunt and he pressed his lips inward. “I need this. Please?”

“Why?”

Hongjoong groaned and rolled his eyes. “Always with the why! Because I want to smell you, I want to taste you, I want to hear your deep breathing and know that you’re sleeping better because of me.”

You swallowed loudly, your throat tightening at his confession. “Okay, Hongjoong,” you allowed in a small voice. “Go ahead.”

Hongjoong used both his thumbs to hold open your labia so that he could go straight for your cunt. He moaned like he was feasting, as his lips and tongue sucked and nibbled on the flesh between your legs. Your hips practically lifted off the bed when his tongue slipped inside of you and his nose brushed your clit with his motions. Hongjoong simply wrapped his arms around your legs to anchor himself to you despite your movements.

“Oh god, Hongjoong,” you moaned, hand diving into his blue hair. 

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you felt your insides coil with the orgasm he was coaxing from you. But it wasn’t until he sucked on your clit ruthlessly that you began to scream for him. The pleasure was unreal. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you away.  

You could hear your heart in your ears and your own panting as Hongjoong hovered over you to check in on you. “Sleep well, my darling.” And that was the last thing you remembered before you indeed fell asleep. 

You weren’t quite sure when it had happened, but you were pretty sure Hongjoong was falling for you. And you couldn't help but care for him. This man had no right being as gentle or caring or understanding as he was, but still he funneled energy into you, the only way you would receive it anyways. Everything was on your terms but you were starting to feel like you weren’t in control anymore. 

You could see it in Hongjoong’s eyes; how he felt about you. The care was moving towards love. His smile had morphed, even, and it felt… how the hell were you going to be able to introduce him to anyone you knew? Or tell them the weird way you had met? Could you even form a relationship with a man ten years your junior?

The more you stewed on it, the more your mind was made up. There was no way this could work. And if Hongjoong couldn't keep his heart out of this, well, maybe it was time you cut him loose. 

You couldn't bear to sleep with him, and this time you had received a hurt puppy dog look at the statement, but Hongjoong respected your wishes. That way you didn’t feel even worse for what you were going to dump on him in the morning.

“Hongjoong,” you started, sitting at the kitchen island.

“Bagel? Had them flown in from New York. You know what they say about--”

“Hongjoong,” you said more firmly. 

“What, can’t I feed you too?” Hongjoong teased.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” you announced.

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered with worry but he pressed forward. “Eat bagels? We can always switch it up if need be.”

“No, Hongjoong, us. I don’t think we should meet anymore.”

Hongjoong frowned heavily at you. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re the most healthiest I’ve seen since I met you, in fact, I was just about to ask you to move in with--”

You laughed in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hongjoong shook his head, still looking confused. “I’m really not.”

“Why would I move in with you?”

Hongjoong winced visibly like you had struck him. “Because I'm good for you.”

“So you think because you're a good lay that we should be together? Hongjoong, I don't even have your contact information!”

“That doesn't matter. Or can be fixed quickly. Why are you--? What's going on?” 

“You can't possibly think we could begin a life together? Based on a few months of sex and a good sleep? Hongjoong, come on. You're young but you're not THAT naive.”

“But we--I don't understand!” Hongjoong lamented. “Why are you doing this?”

“Being realistic? Hongjoong, this is what you have to do to live in this world.”

“No, why are you tearing down what we have? Making it lesser than it is. I know you feel--”

You squeezed your eyes tightly. “No, Hongjoong, I won't let you convince me into another fool plan. I can't afford to think like you! You have years to adjust and the money to support mistakes. I don’t!”

“What are you saying? That I was a mistake?” Hongjoong demanded.

“Yes.”

“No, I don't believe you for a damn minute,” Hongjoong denied. You could hear his slippers slide against the floor and his hands turn you around in the bar stool chair. “Look at me.”

When you refused to do so, Hongjoong pleaded. “Darling, open your eyes.” 

You pursed your lips stubbornly. “No.”

“And why's that?” Hongjoong persisted.

You felt weak. "Because if I open my eyes, I'll see your face,” you whispered.

“And what happens when you see my face?”

“I won't be able to say no to you.”

“Because?”

You opened your eyes. “Because I have feelings for you.”

Hongjoong giggled, then he pulled you off the bar stool chair and hugged you to his chest. He cradled your head against him and rubbed his cheek against the crown of your head. “I love you too.”

You had tears in your eyes but you refused to acknowledge them. “Can I have that bagel now?”

Hongjoong held you arm's length away, a sly grin pulling his features. “Only if I can fuck you on the island in celebration.”

“Hongjoong!” You squealed, slapping his chest.

“Is that a yes?”

taglist: @hijirikaww @starlitmark @stardragongalaxy @pyeonghongrie @k-pop-ology @mingsolo @flurrys-creativity

[oneforthemunny]

for the blurb game:

modern!eddie, cartoons, fluff

ok starting off the day with this blurb!! modern!eddie the neglected, this one is for you pookie <3 this also is centered around the fact that he definitely watched so much cartoon network growing up and that's a fact.

"You know what they should do?" Eddie's chest rumbled, your cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt.

You hummed lazily, a little spacey from the weed you'd smoked, a little cuddlier than you usually were. Sweeter and softer when you'd smoke, when you relaxed and eased into the affection Eddie was always so generous with.

"They should do like a Disney Plus but for Cartoon Network." Eddie tipped his chin down towards you. You'd felt nostalgic that day, and when Eddie mentioned he'd never watched Hannah Montana, you insisted you two had to have a couch date.

You moved, looking up at him. "Yeah. That would be so cool. I used to watch Chowder all the time. I think it's on Max, though."

"Yeah, but they don't have everything." Eddie shook his head lightly. "Wait. You watched Chowder?"

Your brows furrowed lightly. "Yeah. You didn't?"

"No, I mean, yeah I did. Just didn't take you for a Chowder typa girl." Eddie grinned playfully. "Thought you'd be more into The Power Puff Girls or somethin'."

"Wowww," You groaned sarcastically, looking at him fully. "Little bit sexist of you."

"No," Eddie's eyes widened slightly. "I didn't- I meant because you're kinda like Buttercup so I just figured-"

You rolled your eyes at his stammering, softly smacking his chest. "Let me guess, your favorite was Ed, Edd, and Eddy." Eddie's lips curled in a boyish grin, eyes lighting at your teasing.

"Of course, it was." You scoffed with a small giggle. "So predictable."

"Hey, ok, I liked Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends too." Eddie laughed. "I liked Bloo, he was fucking hilarious. And the basketball one. Shit, do they have that on somewhere? We gotta watch that next."

Your lips pulled in a smile you tried to keep down. "That was a good one." You hummed, settling back into Eddie's chest. "I liked Coco a lot."

Eddie snorted in laughter. "Now who's the predictable one?" He snickered, giggling at your feigned shocked hurt. "The batshit crazy bird was your favorite? I would have never guessed." He teased sarcastically, hand sliding down to your waist, squeezing your side playfully.

[wingedblooms]

Blooming with life

@offtorivendell and I were chatting about the cover for the next book and while there are several options for what might be depicted on the cover, the one that makes the most sense to me (and makes us scream) is the Cauldron (blooming with life, vines and flowers and creatures spilling from its iron lip). It hasn’t been used on a cover yet, and assuming Sarah will continue with one romantic pairing per book, it would align perfectly with what Elain and Azriel’s story would contribute to the overarching plot.

Let me preface this by saying that I do think the three Archeron sisters embody (or are vessels) for the three faces of the Mother, and they will likely need to come together at some point in this storyline (the dream). But if anyone’s story is connected to a force that once bloomed with life, and is tasked with uncovering its secrets to help it and the land bloom again, it’s Elain. The quiet, gentle gardener who glows like the dawn and smells like a promise of spring. She might even be able to use the language of creation to (re)write her own fate. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Azriel has been present or connected to Elain’s major moments involving the Cauldron (her forced rebirth, naming her powers, questioning the mating bond, using TT to rescue her family, being forbidden from going near the Cauldron, etc.). Their story is tied to the Cauldron and what we’ve learned about it (from the original trilogy to the spin-off books to the crossover). Sarah has left hints that it is still important, in general, and specifically in Elain’s journey with Azriel:

acotar

Feyre gives us our first glimpse of the Cauldron from the living (Spring Court):

I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow.

I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colors, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the windows.

[…]

At first I could do nothing but stare at its size, the ambition of it, at the fact that this masterpiece was tucked back here for no one to ever see, as if it was nothing—absolutely nothing—to create something like this.

It told a story with the way colors and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across the mural. The story of…of Prythian.

It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No—not sparkling, but…effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. Whatever was written there, whatever it was, the contents of the cauldron were dumped into the void below, pooling on the earth to form our world…(acotar)

acomaf

Elain emerges from the Cauldron. It tips onto its side by itself, as if influenced by an unseen force. Elain rises from the floor, like the earth in the mural, glowing with immortal light and beauty.

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water.

And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare. The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live—

Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer.

And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me—

Nesta began roaring again.

Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

acowar

After Elain was Made in the Cauldron, Azriel is the one to name her power, freeing her from a murky realm where dream and reality entwine:

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” (acowar)

Feyre wonders about Elain’s new, inner sight and how it might be connected to the Cauldron.

Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)

Feyre questions the mating bond system, wondering why Azriel and Elain aren’t mates and who determines it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…”

Azriel is the first to notice Elain’s absence and risks his life to get her back, inspiring Feyre to join him.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

With the shadows, he might stand a chance of slipping in. But there were wards to consider, and ancient magic, and the king with those spells and the Cauldron…(acowar)

Armed with Truth-Teller, the blade Azriel gifted to her for the battle, Elain—rather than the Cauldron—answered Feyre’s pleas, somehow appearing just in time to deal Hybern a killing blow.

For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

While connected to it through a living link, Feyre learns that the Cauldron adores Elain, gave her such powers (plural, baby), and would not harm her.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

Both Elain and the Cauldron are described as blooms in bleak and barren settings, which seems to be a hint of their intertwined role/power that is reinforced in the spin-offs and crossover.

She was a rose bloom in a mud field…[…] If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta, she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (acowar)

-

The Cauldron shattered into three pieces, peeling apart like a blossoming flower (acowar)

acosf

Cassian reminds us that the Cauldron is hidden (and supposedly asleep) in Cretea, worrying that no one could control it if it awoke.

A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim Prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

Nesta reminds us of the time the Cauldron stole Elain and its song called only to her:

Elain had been stolen by the Cauldron and saved by Azriel and Feyre. Yet the two terror still gripped Nesta, waking and asleep: the memory of how it had felt in those moments after hearing the Cauldron’s seductive call and realizing it had been for Elain, not for her or Feyre. How it had felt to find Elain’s tent empty, to see that blue cloak discarded. (acosf)

The Inner Circle discusses the Cauldron-Made Trove, and Feyre and Amren remind us that like calls to like, which is why the sisters can help find them.

“What does it have to do with the Cauldron?” Nesta pushed.

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured, looking to Amren, who nodded. “Because the Trove was Made by the Cauldron, so might the Trove find its Maker.” (acosf)

Elain offers to find the Trove when Nesta admits to her fears, and Nesta forbids her from going anywhere near the Cauldron.

Amren said, “You tracked the Cauldron—”

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.”

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to…reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways.o You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

Feyre said, “It’s Elain’s choice, Nesta.” (acosf)

Nesta gives us a glimpse of the dusk service where priestesses worship the Mother and the Cauldron and the Forces That Be (Fate). A sacred, possibly interchangeable trio, which is deeply connected to creation and the earth:

The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth. (acosf)

Nesta finds the carved rose Papa Archeron made for Elain and places it next to a figurine of a primordial goddess:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

-

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

Nesta makes a bargain with the Cauldron, so it is at least somewhat awake and seems to be influenced by, or working alongside, a luminescent hand (maybe a gentle gardener’s hand?) that intervenes on Nesta’s behalf.

And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore.

A bargain with the Cauldron itself.

Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf)

After their almost-kiss on solstice, Azriel dares to question the Cauldron, which he appears to revere.

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

Azriel ignored the question. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

hofas

In the crossover, we learn more of the Cauldron’s history. Life once blossomed from it, but—as if echoing Azriel’s question to Rhys—it was warped by the Daglan (Asteri).

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

-

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas)

The Under-King leaves us with a look at the Cauldron from the dead. It was misconstrued as a goddess over time, explaining interconnected, if not interchangeable, terms (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be), but she is a force and her name is Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos.

[…]

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Tags: @elriel-month 💕

What do you think will be on the cover, friends? Do you agree it might be the Cauldron, or will it be something else, like the Harp or even…a Pegasus?!

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (7)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 7: More Than Human

During the time you stayed at his place, Leon let you have the bed while he took the couch. You tried not to feel guilty as he draped one of his extra bed sheets over it, fluffing the cushions up like pillows. And you tried not to feel the same guilt again, when you glanced over at the broken bedpost that you’d damaged in a fit of anger not long ago.

With a remote control, he closed the blackout shutters over every window in the apartment. They locked themselves with a click, ensuring that all outside light would be blocked out. A large duffel bag sat by the side of the room. Earlier, you’d packed a bunch of your stuff and transferred them over to your temporary residence. You didn’t know when you’d be able to return home again. Perhaps when the case that you’d been unwittingly assigned to was over and you had the chance to invest in some thick blinds.

You kept the usual hygiene routines you’d practiced before, wanting to retain any sense of normalcy you could from the time you had been human. Leon appeared to do the same. You felt like a weird couple, brushing your teeth together as your deadened gazes stared straight into the bathroom mirror. What was the point of pretending to be something you weren’t? You spat out the foamy toothpaste, traces of reddish-pink swirled along its surface. At least you could still bleed.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, fingers grazing your wrist as you passed by his couch. Then, he was out like a light.

You watched as he entered into a comatose type of daysleep; no breathing and no heartbeat to be found. He lay like a corpse, dead to the world — exposed, vulnerable and defenseless. Only vitae could reanimate him now.

You were glad that you couldn’t dream in this state. After what you had experienced, there would be no shortage of night terrors. Leon had mentioned about other Kindred who could hear whispers from the Abyss or the Beast in their sleep, but so far you hadn’t had to worry about that. In fact, going to sleep felt like dying all over again and for a moment you panicked, thinking you were suffocating on a bed you were unaccustomed to. But soon, you drifted off into nothingness, and your brain shut down until it was time for you to rouse the blood again.

It was an hour before sunset when you woke up, gulping in air as if you had drowned and resurfaced. Maybe it would take a couple more tries before you’d become more familiar with the feeling. You peered down from the upper level of the loft, spotting that Leon was still out cold. Funny how you were the early bird for once.

Filling a glass with the tangy, dark red liquid from his supply in the fridge, you drank it imagining it was beetroot juice. It was easier to stomach it this way. Your colleagues were expecting you at the cafe this evening, and you decided to get yourself ready to head off, paying close attention to the way you styled your hair, your makeup and even your clothes. You weren’t sure if they would be able to sense if anything was ‘off’ about you.

Leon hadn’t instructed you to do anything tonight, but it still felt as though you were a grounded kid sneaking out on a sleeping parent as you left the apartment building for a place you’d always regarded as your second home. Perhaps it would be nice to pay a visit to something you were familiar with in your previous life.

“Whoa… hey! If it isn’t the girl who came back from the dead!” Patrick called out the moment you stepped into the establishment. 

You nearly choked on your saliva, and he must’ve noticed the look of absolute horror on your face, as he peppered it with, “I mean, your phone was dead, and, uh, we thought you got kidnapped or something,” while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bursting into laughter from the unnecessary tension you had been holding in, you pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug, like you’d never been happier to see him. He seemed flustered by your sudden display of affection, but returned the embrace, giving you a few awkward pats on the back.

“Y’know, something about you seems… different,” he squinted, giving you a once-over, when you released him from your grip.

Shit, did you miss a spot? Was there blood on your teeth? Could he tell that you weren’t human anymore? A barrage of thoughts raced through your mind, until you reminded yourself to play it cool with one of those jokes you usually cracked when you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, guess I got pretty.” You shrugged, emitting another giggle as he rolled his eyes.

“If you were fishing for compliments, you could’ve just said so. I’m a generous man,” he retorted before heading towards the stage area to set up. “Anyway, whatever. Holler if you need me!”

As the evening crowd began to trickle in, you noticed that the two companions who seemed to know Leon, albeit on less than friendly terms, had shown up tonight as well. They waltzed over to you, though the nearer they got, the more they looked like they were treading on eggshells. You feigned busyness and the nonchalance that came with it, putting away clean glasses and helping your colleagues to take orders at the bar. It wasn’t until the male counterpart of the two thumped his broad, hefty hand on the counter top to get your attention, that you could no longer avoid the inevitable and turned his way.

“How can I help you?” you asked, putting on a well-practiced, polite smile.

“Mind if we take this somewhere more private?” It didn’t sound like he was the type to take ‘No’ for an answer.

“Um, sure?” You acted as if you were confused, but you had an inkling of where this was heading and wanted to see if your suspicions had been right all along.

Leading them to a storage area at the back, which was semi-hidden from public view, you waited for them to talk.

“So, we heard about your new status,” the man began, carefully choosing his words.

Oh boy, that explains it. “Jesus, you guys too?” you blurted out, pressing your forehead against the palm of your hand as you heaved an exaggerated sigh. “How many of you are there? And why my cafe?”

Before he could answer, you kicked a loose piece of trash on the floor in irritation and cursed out loud, “God-fucking-dammit.”

The man raised his hands halfheartedly like bear paws, his soft brown eyes looking on at you in amusement. “Sis, you sure this one’s a Toreador?” he roared out in laughter. “Smells more like one of us.”

The woman rolled her eyes, pushing her way forward in front of this hulk of a man. “Sorry about my brother, he’s not great with women.” You heard a disgruntled snort from him as she said that.

“Anyway, I’m Claire,” she mentioned rather matter-of-factly, though she hesitated a little before sticking out her hand towards you cagily, as if you might chew her head off. 

You weren’t sure what all the fuss was about as you accepted it, offering a firm handshake, which seemed to surprise her. For the first time, she smiled appreciatively back at you while you followed up with a short introduction.

Turning towards the man, she indicated, “This big boy here is Chris.”

Without any pretense, you took his hand proactively, giving it a similar handshake as he glanced at his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Does she know?” he questioned.

Claire ignored him, focusing on you instead as she broached the subject. “Listen, I’m gonna cut to the chase here. You and I? We’re kinda on different sides, if you catch my drift.”

You nodded at her to continue.

“Thing is, most of us Anarchs are wondering if we’re now gonna have to vacate this area, ’cause uh, well, you’re a Cammy,” she tried to put her point across as succinctly as possible. “And I don’t mean this as a threat or anything, but I gotta say, there are some who are pretty pissed that this shit went down.”

Right, the Anarchs. They were but a brief footnote in Leon’s history lesson. The ones who broke away from the Camarilla, founding their own governing structure from what they deemed as ‘oppressive rule’. You likened them to left wing radicalists against the exclusive, upper echelons of conservative society. It was a no-brainer which group out of the two you would have preferred, but unfortunately Leon had already made that choice for you.

Anger at the lack of agency you had in all of this unfurled like gaseous vapor, sluggishly rolling off the tip of your tongue. “Fuck Kindred politics and whatever form of bullshit that it comes packaged in,” you seethed. “I’m not going to play anybody’s game here. As long as you behave, you’re welcome in my books.”

Chris gave a low, drawn-out whistle through his teeth as he clapped measuredly in response, somewhat impressed by your impassioned speech. “I like this one; she’s got some bite,” he told Claire before addressing you wistfully, “Damn, you would’ve made a great baby Brujah.”

No prizes for guessing that these two belonged to that clan. Rabble-rousers, spirited fighters, but intellectuals all the same. You wondered what it would’ve been like to join them. Were you merely a Toreador by lineage alone, shoehorned into the clan because of some forlorn love that your sire had for you? One that you were conflicted in reciprocating. Or did you actually have the heart of Brujah instead? What would happen if you didn’t belong in your clan?

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” she agreed. “Though you are a bit like Leon in some ways.”

“Claire!” her brother warned. It was his turn to knock some sense into her.

“What do you mean by that?” you pried, aghast that they could find any similarities between you and the man who broke your trust.

She opened her mouth to say something further, but he gripped her arm as his eyes narrowed at her.

Wedging yourself between the two of them, you demanded, “You can’t just bring him up and leave me hanging?!”

“See what you’ve done now?” he fumed, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards into a pronounced frown.

“Chris, she’s gonna find out sooner or later,” she fired back.

“Will someone just tell me what the fuck is going on?” you groaned in exasperation.

Chris let go of Claire roughly. “Fine, sis,” he grunted. “But you deal with the aftermath.”

Yanking her arm away, she tugged her devilish red leather jacket down by the lapels to straighten it, before explaining, “Leon used to run with the Anarchs for a while. Well, not officially, according to the Cam, but I would’ve considered him like a brother.”

Shooting daggers at Chris, she added snippily, “Apparently, having one already wasn’t enough, so I had to torture myself with more.”

Chris shoved a fist into his chest, as though an arrow had pierced his heart. “Ouch, that hurts,” he grunted mockingly.

Your jaw dropped at the story that Claire spilled to you. Leon as an Anarch? You could never imagine him joining the cause.

“No way that prissy ass, stuck-up, boy band reject switched sides,” you exclaimed, as Chris stifled a guffaw at your insults. It was evident from your tone that your pent-up frustration over Leon’s convenient omissions and hypocrisy had reached its boiling point.

“Way,” she rebutted smugly. “And I don’t blame you; I’d be mad as hell too if I were in your shoes. Unfortunately, Leon was always guided more by his emotions.”

Expelling a weary sigh, you leaned your arm against the wall and buried your head in the crook of your elbow to steady yourself. “I don’t understand this guy.”

Claire threw you a sympathetic look as she continued, “Now, this is just a hunch, but I’m pretty damn sure he was about to defect to us, when the Cam got him by the balls.”

You perked up, arching your eyebrows as a quizzical expression spread across your face. “With what?”

“That’s a good question. We don’t know,” she admitted, exchanging perplexed glances with Chris that could rival yours. “But must’ve been something nasty.”

You wondered if Leon would tell you if you asked him. But seeing as how he’d already been keeping secrets from you, either out of a misguided belief that it was for your own good or for more malicious reasons, you weren’t optimistic. Maybe you’d wrangle it out of him someday. After all, he owed you — a lot.

“Anyway, you both seem, um, cool? We should stay in touch,” you suggested, suddenly unsure of whether things like this worked the same way in the Kindred world. Perhaps you were overthinking it. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Claire flashed a grin. “We’re not going anywhere.”

At that moment, something caught Chris’ eye and his previously jovial expression turned solemn. Leaning in, he mumbled into your ear, “By the way, your vampire daddy is here.”

Vampire daddy?

You angled your head to peek in Chris’ line of sight and near the entrance of the cafe, you could make out Leon glaring in your direction. Uh oh, were you in trouble?

“Ha ha, very funny, Chris,” you articulated sarcastically, but before you could make your way over, Leon had beaten you to it, already standing by your side with his hand on your shoulder.

“I see you’ve been getting acquainted with my protegé?” his innocuous question taking on an accusing tone. 

You couldn’t comprehend what the hostility was for. “Yeah, turns out they’re actually great company, so why don’t you back off?”

Chris snickered in the corner as Leon clenched his jaw, visibly incensed by your interference. Wheeling you around, he backed you against the nearby wall, palms flat against either side of your head, caging you in with his body.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled. “And don’t ever interrupt me again.”

His reprimand resounded in your ears which were now bright red; you weren’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or anger, or both. Swallowing a lump in your throat, your eyes darted from his glittering blue ones to his full lips, which were a hair’s breadth away from yours. He remained unmoving, but you could see his features darkening and a conflict brewing in his mind. Warmth pooled in your chest and your face flushed, remembering that same electric rush you felt the last time he was this close to you at the arbors. Was this what you were attracted to — the danger and excitement? Or was there something more to it?

“Having fun babysitting, Kennedy?” Claire’s voice pierced through the mounting tension in the room.

That broke his trance as he peeled himself away from you diffidently, carding his fingers through his hair as its silky strands fell back into his face. “Good to see you too, Redfield,” he remarked dryly. “Still running your mouth like you used to, huh? Guess nothing’s changed.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight to one hip and sassily replied, “Could say the same about you. I mean, you always did have a thing for… interesting women.”

He scoffed, brushing her comment aside with a shake of his head as he steered the conversation onto a different topic. “I need you to do something for me.”

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but he raised his finger to silence her. “Uh-uh, let me finish. This concerns all of our skins. I assume you’re aware of the incident that happened the other night?”

“Yeah, it was pretty fucked up,” Chris attested, speaking on behalf of his sibling, before glancing at you and mouthing “Sorry.”

You gave him a sad, side smile in recognition. It seemed like no matter how you tried to avoid it, you were fated to be reminded of your passing again and again.

“I’m not pointing fingers here, but it’s likely there are more players than the Sabbat involved,” Leon explained.

At this, Claire raised her voice defensively, “Are you trying to pin this on us? You think one of us was responsible?”

Her brother, who seemed to be the more collected one, patted her shoulder a few times, indicating for her to stand down and listen to what else Leon had to say.

Leon nodded curtly at him, as if they shared some sort of unspoken brothers-in-arms code that you and Claire weren't part of. “No one’s blaming the Anarchs. At least, not yet. I made sure of that,” he pledged.

Claire pressed her lips into a thin line; you could see her bristling at Leon’s words. However, she knew that he had done something to prevent Wesker from launching a full-frontal assault and destroying the Anarch conclave in one go.

“That suitor you mentioned…” he trailed off with a slight pause, and for some reason you felt all pairs of eyes land uneasily on you for a brief second before he continued. “The one interested in the East Side domain.”

“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” she snapped, obviously uncomfortable with the way this discussion was headed.

“What if it was no accident that she was there,” he suggested, pointing at you as more questions popped up in your head. God, you hated how they talked in riddles sometimes.

Waving her hands about frantically, she rejected this notion and went on a vehement tirade, “That’s nuts! Are you even listening to yourself? You sound fucking insane, how the hell—”

Though, once again, her brother stepped in as the voice of reason, “He’s right, it could be a power play.”

“It could be many things,” Leon corrected, trying to appease the siblings. “I’m just saying we need to keep an eye out. After all, we’re only pawns in this game,” he added cynically.

“And don’t try to argue with me on that, Claire,” he preempted. “You and I both know there’s bullshit within the Anarch ranks too.”

This time, she kept her mouth shut, though her face was still livid.

“Regardless of the politics, another incident like this and we’ll be wiped by the SI, I can guarantee you that,” he stated bluntly.

“He’s got a point,” Chris established, looking over at his sister to see how she was faring.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she let out an aggravated groan, “Ugh, fine! We’ll see if we can find any dirt on him.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Leon squeezed her shoulder in gratitude before cautioning, “It goes without saying that this stays between us.” His eyes flitted momentarily to where you stood. “Including you.”

To his satisfaction, you bowed your head slightly in acknowledgement, making a mental note to run through some points with him later on.

As the siblings prepared to set off, Claire turned around to address Leon for a final time, “Guess we’ll be seeing you around here more often.” 

Smirking at the dumbfounded expression on his face, she affirmed, “Your protegé declared the grounds as neutral… again.”

With that, they went back to join the crowd in the front of the cafe, leaving the both of you to your own devices.

“Couldn’t you have waited before making a decision like that?” Leon chided, sighing heavily as his eyes searched yours for an explanation.

Unfortunately for him, this time, you had the upper hand. “What was that about not ordering me around in my cafe?” you challenged, chuckling to yourself quietly. “Or did you already forget, Kennedy?”

He glowered at you, realizing a little too late that he’d locked himself into such a deal the night before. Luckily, he still had an ace up his sleeve. “That only works up to a certain extent. Remember, you’re still a fledgling under my care.”

“Right, the sire card,” you simmered, tired of the constant antagonistic exchanges with the man. “Anything else you wanna toss in while we’re at it?”

“Look, I don’t want to keep fighting with you,” he admitted, his gaze softening as his fingers grazed your cheek lightly.

If you were honest with yourself, that was what you longed for as well. “Then don’t give me a reason to,” you breathed, lowering your eyes as you reinstated a suitable distance from him, to avoid any further misgivings.

“I’ll see you later at home,” you whispered, your finger absently tracing the length of his arm as you walked away.

━━━━━━━━━━━

For the rest of the evening, Leon left you alone at the cafe, and though he sat at his usual spot while he was there, he left at some point halfway through without saying goodbye. On the one hand, you felt relieved that you didn’t have to speak with him further, but on the other, it smarted a little to know that he had ignored you afterwards.

The cafe was bustling with activity as usual, and it was as if you had never left. You found solace in the routine you had set yourself, helping out with the technical system, pouring drinks for guests and taking turns with your colleagues to announce bingo numbers on stage. Of all nights it was Bingo Night. Someone won a travel-sized steam iron while another snagged themselves a pastel-colored riding crop adorned with ribbons. The random prizes made it fun, as evidenced by the giggling faces of the crowd who made their way up to the stage to receive them.

You shared a smile with Patrick, sweating in the muggy air, as the house lights reflected across shiny surfaces, glitter on skin and bejeweled décolletés. The room was cast in a warm, golden glow, soft and blurred on the edges like a Rembrandt painting. Even though time slipped through your fingers like fine sand, things seemed to move in slow motion. You missed this; you missed living, just like the rest of them. Now you could only impersonate life, and watch as the rest of the world grew older while you didn’t, and your friends drop like flies, rotting in their graves while you mourn their loss.

Hot, fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you wiped them away with the back of your hand, still smiling, teeth showing through the pain. Patrick looked over at you in concern and you laughed, dismissing it as being overcome with emotion. What was it—? Your period’s coming? Too many late nights and not enough sleep? Just tiredness, you feigned. Bidding your colleagues goodnight, you trudged out into the sinking cold, already craving the comfort of being surrounded by people, both strangers and companions alike. 

You were lost in your thoughts the whole way back to Leon’s place, so much so that you didn’t even hear him greet you when you came in. It was only after the second time he had called out that you realized you were being spoken to.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked, worried that your current state of mind might have to do with how he had treated you earlier.

Collapsing onto the couch, you let your legs spread out limply over the edge, fiddling with your thumbs. It was not like you could go on social media anymore and chat with your friends on there. Not when your smartphone had been confiscated and all you had left was a semi-allowed, shitty flip phone which was mainly good enough for playing Snake.

You shook your head, but he still came round to sit beside you, holding a metallic, hexagonal contraption in his hand that he had been tinkering with at his study desk. That was when you noticed the reading glasses hanging loosely by a silver chain around his neck. The oddness of his get up momentarily distracted you from your previous troubles.

“You still need those?” you questioned, gesturing towards the dated-looking spectacles before his chest.

“These?” He raised them up, closing one eye as he squinted through the lenses, inspecting for dust. Sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth, he rubbed them clean with the hem of his iron-pressed white shirt. It seemed like he was used to them, and had worn them for a very long time.

“No, I don’t,” he answered plainly. “But old habits die hard.”

“They do, don’t they?” you remarked with a bitter smile. “Chasing after things that make you human?”

He sighed, understanding full well the predicament you were in and that he didn’t exactly have a remedy for it. Yet, there was no point in lying to you. 

“I do, and many others do, until we can’t anymore,” he stated. “We’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing and inherently evil — at least, that’s what the pessimists think.”

What he had mentioned was bleak, but at the same time, you appreciated his honesty, which, in your opinion, had been lacking lately. “What do you think?” you probed, eyeing him with curiosity.

He pondered on it for a while before he spoke, “I don’t believe a word they say,” he confessed. Cradling your chin with his fingers, he lifted it towards him. “You are human enough. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different,” he instructed, brushing his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip.

You felt heat rise towards your cheeks as you actively searched for something else to grab his attention. The contraption — it was lying at his side. “Is that a puzzle box?” you managed to cough out.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he muttered self-consciously, handing it to you as you pulled away from each other. “Wanna give it a go?”

He looked at you expectantly as you twisted and turned the various segments of the device like a Rubik’s cube, some of which clicked into place softly, while others remained unfettered and movable. A toothy grin broke out across his face as you motioned to him for help with the remaining steps and he jumped in, placing his hands over yours to connect the remaining steps. 

Before your mind could process the closeness of your bodies and his touch, the contraption connected entirely, unlocking and unfolding itself into a flattened shape. He beamed at the object in triumph, as though he had achieved something remarkable.

“You built this yourself?” you asked, tracing its ridges, impressed with his creativity and craftsmanship.

“Yeah, I've loved puzzles since I was a child,” he explained. “Maybe that’s why I went into solving crimes, huh?” Raising his arms, he stretched himself out and yawned. 

“Anyway, it kind of reminds me of better days,” he added melancholically. “When things were simpler.”

“I would’ve liked to get to know you back then,” you said, only realizing a second later that you had uttered your thoughts out loud. You had to restrain yourself from clamping a hand over your mouth in response.

His face melted at your words, though he kept his distance, uncertain about the mixed signals you’d been sending before. “That’s nice, but you probably weren’t even born yet,” he teased.

You snorted, surprised that he still had the ability to crack you up. “How old are you even?”

“Rude,” he scolded, wagging his finger at you.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on the couch, suddenly invested in learning about the man’s age. “Come on, tell me,” you coaxed. “I promise to be on my best behavior for a day in exchange.”

“A day?” he guffawed, shaking his head. His bangs swished from side to side as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Hey, take it or leave it, old man,” you taunted, turning towards him with an impish smirk.

“That’s a low blow, even for you,” he tutted, pausing briefly before revealing, “'77, I was born then. Embraced when I was 24… or was it 25? It’s been a while.”

“Oh, so you’re not that old then,” you pointed out, mentally calculating that he must’ve been in his unlife for just about over 20 years.

Ever the optimist, he shrugged, unruffled by your comment. “Guess I should take that as a compliment.”

Both of you erupted into peals of laughter — the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. This was how it should’ve been. No tears, no politics, no drama, just easy-going conversations learning about each other. You continued talking a bit more about the past, how he was like, how you were like, and you contemplated if you were just clinging onto things that didn’t exist anymore. He had changed and so did you, but when you looked at a person as a whole, their histories made them who they were. You wanted to accept all of him, though a barrier still stood in your way.

“Can I trust you to always be honest with me?” you raised out of the blue in the middle of your conversation with him.

He was taken aback at first by the sudden request, wondering if there was more to it.

Scooting closer to him, you added, “Even if it’s bad, I want to know.”

It was a lot to ask of him, considering how much the Kindred world relied on secrets, games and deceit. But he knew it was important to you, especially in earning back your trust. A voice in his head, which he had grown accustomed to after being burned time and time again, warned him about betrayal. She’s no different from the others… it said in a garbled, distorted tone, like someone speaking underwater. She’ll use it against you.

Call him naive or stupid, but he went ahead anyway. You could bring him to his knees to beg, and he would still do it gladly. “I’ll try,” he whispered, aware that he was on the verge of signing his unlife away. “You can ask me anything you’d like.”

Your hand pressed lightly against his chest, smoothing out the creases in his clothes as you swept it upwards to his neck. Your caress against his weak spot caused his breath to hitch. Toying with the trace chain hugging his skin, you pried, “Did the suitor you were talking about with Claire have something to do with me?”

Right away, a shadow cast across his face and his eyes clouded over. Withdrawing your hand, you began to regret your choice of words to begin with.

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Secretly seeing Natalie Scatorccio

Request: Yes or No

Kind of a sequel

~~~~

"Your music taste sucks."

"As if yours is any better." 

"At least you've got some decent choices."

Things felt oddly... nice. Most times when he invited someone over to his place for a quick hookup (which was a rarity in and of itself), they'd leave right after or he'd drop them off back at their place. But Natalie lingered, slipping his shirt on and exploring his room, going through the things he had scattered around and exposed. Things like his vinyl records, open notebooks, his Walkman, some of his clothes. He watched her from his comfortable spot on the bed, lungs exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air and eyes trailing over the shirt she wore that reached just around her upper thighs. 

Natalie glanced at him over her shoulder, taking notice of where his gaze went, and rolled her eyes, setting down the Blondie record back on the drawer and turning around to face him. "Like what you see?" She asked teasingly and walked forward until her knees bumped against the edge of the bed, moving down to crawl on it. Once she reached him, she snatched the cigarette from his fingers and brought it to her lips, settling comfortably on his lap. His hand moved to her hip, giving it a squeeze when she blew smoke into his face. 

"You excited for Nationals?" (Y/N) asked, waving away the smoke with a small scowl. Natalie chuckled and leaned over, pressing the cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand and slipping her arms around his shoulders, a bright twinkle appearing in her eyes at the mention of Nationals. A bright smile spread across her cheeks, her body slumping over his. 

"Definitely." She exhaled, resting her head on his shoulder. "Everyone's excited. Lottie's dad is lending us a private jet, too."

"I've never been on a private jet before. First time for everything, I guess." (Y/N) said, resisting the urge to laugh when Natalie shot up, her hands pressing against his chest and widened eyes flickering between his. Her lips began to twitch up, forming a pleased smile.

"You're going? Holy shit!"

"Ben doesn't want to leave me home alone so Coach Martinez told him to bring me along since he'll be taking his two sons." (Y/N) explained, barely finishing his sentence when Natalie swooped forward, mushing their lips together. (Y/N) chuckled against her lips, his arms coiling around her waist as a warm unfamiliar feeling bubbled up in his chest. "You know," He broke apart from her. "Most girls I hook up with aren't usually this excited to know I'll be around."

"Oh, please. You're just not an unbearable dick, is all." Natalie rolled her eyes, lightly shoving his shoulders. (Y/N) released an unconvinced hum, watching Natalie's cheeks turn a soft red as her eyes rolled again, this time more dramatically and forced. He leaned in, planting a kiss on her throat and feeling the vibrations when she giggled. Her fingers moved over the sides of his face, palms pressing against his cheeks and tilting his head back to kiss him again. They both froze when the family dog, Princess, began yapping loudly, the sound of the front door opening and Ben's voice following soon after.

"Shit." (Y/N) hissed and the two scrambled off the bed, almost tripping over themselves and trying to keep their snickers quiet. Natalie whispered a sharp 'fuck it' under her breath, snatching her checkered pants off the floor and wiggling them on as quickly as possible. She grabbed her backpack next, glancing up at him when he almost toppled over while putting his own pants on, a soft giggle escaping her. (Y/N) reached down, grabbing her vibrant red bra and shirt off the floor and tossing them in her direction. Natalie shoved them into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "Hurry up!" 

"I'm trying!" Natalie stuck her feet halfway into her boots, glancing frantically toward the bedroom door as Ben's footsteps grew closer and closer. She successfully shoved her feet into her boots all the way and darted toward the window (Y/N) opened, planting a swift kiss on his cheek before she began climbing out.

"My shirt, Nat-"

"I'll return it later!" She assured, hopping down the short distance just as the door swung open and Ben's wide smile greeted him, though it promptly fell when he smelled the air. (Y/N) faced his older brother, folding his arms over his stomach and leaning against the wall by the window with a small smile. 

"What'd I say about smoking? And in the house? Your room's going to stink for ages, (Y/N)." Ben let out a disappointed sigh, his eyes shifting to look at his brother. His brows furrowed slightly and (Y/N) swallowed thickly, giving a casual shrug and turning to shut the window again. He caught Natalie making her way off the lawn and onto the sidewalk, letting a small smile slip before he closed the curtains and climbed into bed.

"Sorry," He replied. "It was the last pack, I swear." 

"Uh-huh." Ben pursed his lips, his head lightly shaking and body shifting to leave his room. He stopped in the doorway and craned his neck to look at him over his shoulder, his brow quirking. "I brought burgers from that diner you really like. And, uh, you've got a hickey on your neck. I'll see you in the kitchen."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 110

Part 1 Part 109

Steve’s already out of bed when Jeff’s flailing limbs smack Eddie awake. He tugs on the connection, relieved when Steve immediately tugs back from somewhere in the trailer. He rolls over, smiling as he smashes his face into a grumbling Jeff’s chest. 

“Get off,” Jeff groans, shoving futilely at Eddie’s dead weight. “Or we’re going to be late”

Eddie whines, voice all raspy from the night’s cold air. “Don’t wanna.” Jeff smacks him again, and again, and again, until Eddie finally rolls off with a groan, tumbling ungainfully off the bed entirely. “Can’t we skip?”

Jeff’s already up and in yesterday’s jeans, hunched over the dresser looking for a shirt. “No,” he replies, sliding one on and bending down to grab a pair of socks. Eddie admires the view. “It’s hellfire day.”

That gets Eddie up, with some petulant grumbling to get dressed right alongside him.

Steve’s at the stove when they stumble out, with sleepy eyes, into the trailer proper. He’s still in his pajamas, but has clearly already showered and styled his hair into its usual coif. Eddie creeps up behind him to peer into the pan he’s currently working from, smiling when he catches sight of the pancake he’s currently flipping.

Steve doesn’t cook much, but he’s the best of all three of them when he bothers. Wayne’s got him beat for creativity, but Steve beat them both in his ability to somehow never fill the trailer with smoke. 

“Mornin’,” Eddie says. 

Steve lets out a little “mmhmm,” shoulders stiff as he stares into the pan with an unnecessary focus. 

Eddie stares at his back, brows furrowed. But Jeff’s already sitting at the table with Wayne, and if there’s one thing Steve doesn’t appreciate, it’s an audience when something’s wrong. So, he grabs the plates, syrup, and forks, and settles into his own place to wait.

It doesn’t take long until Steve’s setting a plate heaping with fluffy, brown pancakes onto the table. Jeff grabs two from the top, but Wayne and Eddie immediately grab one each from the bottom first, knowing that’s where Steve ferrets away the ones he deems imperfect so he can eat them himself. 

Steve doesn’t complain. That’s a solid strike two. Eddie bites his tongue against the worries that want to tumble out. 

Breakfast is quiet, aside from Jeff’s occasional pestering about that night’s session. Eddie locks his lips and throws away the key.

“Don’t act like you know how to shut your trap, boy,” Wayne says, scuffing the top of his head roughly. 

“Hey!” Eddie cries as Jeff laughs at him.

Steve only eats one pancake before he’s rushing into their bedroom to get changed. He’s never liked being late, and they’re thin on time. He’d rather not go at all then shuffle in partway through a period. It doesn’t stop Eddie from staring at the closed bedroom door worriedly until Wayne orders them off to brush their teeth.

Eddie loans Jeff one, and they brush their teeth side by side, too quick to do much of a good job, but Steve still beats them. He’s got both of their bags piled at the front door, his own already on his back. 

When they get to the van, Steve settles into the back, so Jeff slides into the passenger seat and buckles himself in. 

Eddie cranks the engine and peels out. They’re already on a time crunch, and he wants a minute alone with Steve before the bell rings. 

“How come you guys never take your car?” Jeff asks, craning his head back to look over at Steve. 

Eddie tries to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, but he’s in a blindspot so he looks back at road, fingers clenching on the steering wheel. 

“More room in the van for hangers on.” The “like you” is implied heavily enough for Jeff to squawk indignantly. 

“To be fair, that’s usually Carol,” Eddie says.

“And Barbara.”

Eddie nods even though Steve probably can’t see him either. “And Barbie,” he confirms. “Plus, it makes a great getaway vehicle.” He turns to Jeff smiling maniacally. 

Jeff’s probably thinking of parties broken up by cops, or harmless pranks, but all Eddie can think about is cramming everyone in on Halloween while Barbara gunned it to the Harrington’s house to find Steve. 

What would have happened if Steve had driven?

When Eddie parks haphazardly in his usual spot in the school’s parking lot, Jeff hops out immediately. When no one follows him, he turns back to Eddie with raised eyebrows. Eddie waves his hands furiously, shooing him away like he’s a fly. Jeff rolls his eyes, but slams the door shut and walks away.

Steve’s silent in the back. Eddie doesn’t turn; he’s too worried what expression he’ll see on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, staring out the windshield at the usual bustle of the morning. 

Steve sighs. He doesn’t answer, but he dutifully slides into the passenger seat and meets Eddie’s eyes.

He’s smiling, warm and crinkled and real enough that Eddie sags into his seat, relieved beyond measure. 

“I’m okay,” Steve replies, reaching his hand out and leaving it there until Eddie links their fingers together. “And nothing’s wrong.” Eddie scoffs, but Steve just keeps talking. “Really, nothing’s wrong. I’ve just got something to sort out, and I want to talk to Carol about it first.”

Eddie looks down at their linked hands, running his thumb along the back of Steve’s. There’s a burn there, still pink and shiny, but Steve shows no sign of pain, so Eddie caresses it as he thinks.

“But you’ll tell me?” he asks, looking back up to meet Steve’s eyes.

“I promise.”

As if to emphasize the point, Steve unclasps their hands only to hook his pinkie around Eddie’s. It’s the cutest shit Eddie’s ever seen. He wants to capture it in film, or sculpt it in clay, or paint it with the expensive acrylics he’s always secretly coveted but never bought. He wants to immortalize the way his Angel’s thumb looks around his own. 

Instead, he curls his around right back and shakes their hands up and down for good measure.

“It’s a deal.”

Nothing else seems to come from it. Eddie tugs on their connection like usual, and Steve always tugs right back. He comes to lunch, and the only sign that something’s shifted is a few furtive looks between Carol and Steve.

Maybe they’ve already talked?

Anticipation thrums through Eddie. He loves secrets and being in on them. But it’s okay, for Steve, he can wait as long as he needs. 

Steve’s worth the wait.

PSA: My taglist is NOT working even when i try to do the staggering my 5's thing, no matter what I do. SO. I'm no longer trying. For the last part, I'm going to try to tag everyone even if i have to do a bunch of reblogs, because I know that's the only way some people are following the fic. Just so everyone's aware that it's complete, and go back to read what they missed. But I'm not willing to do that for every part. Sorry! <3<3<3

[justkennadi]

Being plug!connie’s sneaky link🤫🤭

Plug!Connie x Fem/blk!reader

Summary: just u ‘n connie sneakinnn around…

Cw: Some cussing, a lot of mentioning of being high, nsfw

- Plug!Connie knew you since high school. You were friends with Armin and Eren who were friends with Sasha, Jean and him. He thought u were fine asf too but didn’t make a move on you until a while ago.

-You started trying out weed to take the stress off form college your first year and Plug!Connie was the only person you knew who had his hands on some. Y’all stayed together while he taught you how to inhale and all the basics of smoking. He honestly kept getting distracted by how good you looked in you biker shorts and crop top you wore that day.

- “You got a man’s yet mama?” He’d ask as you puffed out a bit of smoke, coughing a bit.

-“Uh, nah, *cough* why?” You’d ask looking at him. It could’ve been the weed but this man was starting to look real fine. You stared into his intense hazel eyes as he just smirked. “No reason…..” He’d trail off.

-And that was the start of it all. You started really getting to know him but once y’all got serious y’all decided to keep it secret.

-Now it’s been a year and honestly you both don’t know how none of y’all friends found out abt y’all?? (I mean Armin was very suspicious at this point but he didn’t have enough proof so he stayed quiet…)

- Plug!Connie would call you after he was done selling all this orders for the day and just sit in his car smoking a blunt as you rambled about your day and how much you missed him. You were in college but it was your 3rd yr so you didn’t have to stay on campus and had your own little loft apartment but you were still very busy all the time so y’all’s schedules didn’t really match up.

- “I miss uuu! I cant wait to see u this saturday.” You said laying on you bed.

- “I know mama. Me too.” Connie said blowing smoke out the window.

- Plug!Connie and you could only meet up about once or twice a week most of the time. And when y’all did…y’all had a mf ball🤭

- Onyankopon and Jean saw y’all at the mall once and swore they saw him holding your hand but Connie denied it.

- “Bro, we aren’t gonna laugh at you if y’all fuckin’ for real.” Jean said one day hanging out at Connie’s place.

- “Nah. I aint fuckin her. Ion even know what y’all are talkin’ bout anyways cause i wasn’t at no mall.” Connie said nonchalantly and focusing on the game he was playing.

-Plug!Connie regularly would take you on shopping sprees with all the extra money he had. He would buy you almost anything you’d want but y’all gotta be more careful from here on out now.

- He honestly didn’t care if anyone found y’all out in y’all friend circle by now but he definitely didn’t need his regulars finding out about y’all.

- Plug!Connie sometimes facetimed you if y’all missed your weekly meet up and he was feeling needy. “Come on ma, i wanna see u….” He’d say softly as his tatted hand stroked himself in his dim lit bedroom.

- It was pitch black in your room as it was 1:03am and you were half awake and did not feel like turning no lights on. But after a while of begging from Connie you turned your bedside lamp on anyways cause you were just as needy to see him. Y’all would be on the phone for hours on nights like this, missing each other deeply.

-Sometimes you wanted to break and tell your friends Mikasa or Sasha but you promised Connie you’d wait until he was ready to tell everyone too. Mikasa acted like already knew tho which fr threw you off sometimes. You’d casually mention Connie and she’d side eye you and smirk a little and you would just be like, “…What?” and she’d just say, “Oh, nothing.”

- Plug!Connie’s contact for you in his phone was - Princesa👸🏾 and for him you just had him as - 💋❤️

- When y’all finally had free time to meet up he’d pull up to your house and be in some silly disguise it was kinda funny. You’d walk out your apartment and get in and just laugh a bit.

- “Why you got sunglasses and a mustache on Con?”

- “…..Cause.”

- He’d do it mainly to see you laugh.

- Most of the time, especially after y’all got caught at the mall, y’all had to get smart and stop going to places like stores and parks where familiar faces would regularly be and could see y’all. Sometimes late at night tho y’all would go to a park and either walk around and talk or just smoke some blunts in silence.

- Sometimes y’all went to movies that started late like 11pm or midnight high as hell. Y’all would share a big bucket of popcorn and eat a lot of candy.

- Other times y’all would just hang out at each others place, most of the time Connie’s tho cause your place wasn’t too big.

-Y’all’s hang outs always concluded with a make out sesh and then the devils tango ofc.

-Plug!Connie would sit you in his lap while y’all was on the couch, stareing deep into your eyes with his slight tinted red ones. His hands would roam from your lower back to your ass and thighs just rubbing and squeezing the plushness. He’d admire you forever if you let him cause he truly loved you that much.

- Connie would slowly kiss you, your lipgloss getting onto his on lips in the process. “Mmm, this strawberry, ma?” He’d whisper while licking his lips and you would just nod and start to kiss him again before he said anything else.

- Sometimes y’all would stay on the couch as y’all did the deed but other times Connie would take you into his room so y’all didn’t stink up the living room in case he was gonna have guest over later.

-He loved doggy style the most, watching your ass meet his hips as he held your hips pulling you back over and over. Entranced and high, watching where y’all met as the slick, wet sounds and your addicting moans filled his ears.

- When y’all were done it was either time to eat or sleep. Sometimes when y’all met midday though Connie would just tell you to stay in his room if he was having people over or had to leave to handle business. You didn’t like when he would leave you there but he always came back within at least 3ish hours and he said it was, “For safety, ma.”

- It was rare y’all could spend a whole day together. Most of the time y’all met at night after either you or connie got off work.

- Plug!Connie always kissed you bye when you had to go in the mornings or when he dropped you off. He would hold your hand and stare into your eyes once more like he was never gonna see you again. He’d tell you, “I love you, princesa. Stay safe, i’ll see you later.”

- You didn’t know how much longer you could handle this sneaking around but lord did you love the mf thrill.

(I’ve had this in my drafts since July last year😭😭 i don’t have anything to write lately so ig i’ll just be clearing out my drafts. I’m down with school so at least i have time to write anywaysss. Reminder that my requests are open too!)