#you’re creating a house of cards and it WILL fall

[stevesjockstrap]

I Can Tell You Miss Me

Rated E • wc 1800 • preseries-S1, getting together, sneaking around, fuck buddies, top Eddie :)

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember: sneaking around + @steddiesongfics: I Like The Way You Kiss Me - Artemas

Eddie yelped as he was yanked by his collar and pulled into an empty classroom. He almost ducked and swung on instinct but then his mouth was overtaken by insistent soft lips. The now familiar scent of hairspray and expensive cologne assaulted him and he relaxed further.

I like the way you kiss me, I can tell you miss me

Eddie smiled into the kiss and quickly swapped their positions, groaning softly when the other immediately yielded to him, allowing him to press them against the wall and take over.

Breaking apart with a gasp a few minutes later, he couldn’t believe his luck that Steve Harrington was looking at him this way.

“Mmm, missed you, Eds,” he breathed as Eddie dragged his teeth over the hinge of his jaw.

“I know, Stevie boy. I wanted to jump you the second I saw you this morning.” He sunk both hands into the perfectly styled hair. He loved dirtying up the pretty boy, sue him.

Steve whined but didn’t stop him, allowing him to ruffle his shockingly soft hair.

“Can you come over tonight?”

Eddie froze, trying to meet Steve’s eyes but he avoided him, biting into his lip. Eddie couldn’t get any words out, so Steve continued.

“I-it’s, you know, my parents are going out of town again. Usually I’d throw a party, but then I realized the only person I really wanted to see was you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and he clenched his jaw to keep it from actually dropping. Play it cool, Munson.

“Oh, I guess I could swing by,” he managed, sounding a lot less affected than he was, thankfully.

“Cool,” Steve replied, trying to shrug casually. “Awesome,” he nodded and then seemed to realize they were still pressed against each other, his hands sliding confidently between them.

This thing had actually started at a party at the Harrington house. Eddie had been bored, suggesting to Jeff that they crash and see how much free alcohol they could pilfer from the rich kids before they were kicked out.

But Steve had shocked them. He just smirked as they filled their cups from the keg in the dining room, holding up his own plastic cup in a silent cheers.

Later in the night, Eddie had been even more surprised when he’d walked into one of the bathrooms to an eyeful — it hadn’t been locked, in his defense — and Steve leered at him as he slowly zipped up. “See something you like, Munson?”

He’d tried to seem nonchalant but the way his eyes couldn’t leave Steve the rest of the night must have shown his cards.

Steve pulled him under the bleachers after third period the next day.

The first time he’d sunk into his tight heat, Steve had looked up at him with his huge wet doe eyes and shuddered.

“Is it too much?”

Eddie received a short shake of his head and a gasp as he pulled back a bit.

“N-no, just- ah, you’re inside of me,” he breathed.

The unbelievable surge of want and the need to keep him safe, to bundle him against his chest and never let go hit him like a fright train.

All he could manage was a weak, “I sure am.” He let himself stare at where they were connected, pushing forward again roughly, making himself shrug off the clenching of his heart.

Not tryna be romantic, I’ll hit it from the back

Just so you don’t get attached

He’d had to step back a bit, for his own sanity. Get a little distance between them. Remind them both that this was just sex. Eddie made sure they were never in that position after that. He couldn’t trust himself not to fall into those wide expressive eyes. To make mountains out of molehills, to create feelings that couldn’t possibly be there.

It wasn’t easy, Steve hadn’t made it easy, using his biggest puppy eyes until Eddie had had to get rough, shoving him over whatever surface. Pulling his hair, covering his mouth, anything to make him forget about kissing him as he fucked into him. To keep his eyes from making promises he couldn’t keep.

Their sporadic make out sessions during school became almost daily, until their senior year. Eddie should’ve known it was too good to be true. It wasn’t like they were even dating. Not even friends with benefits. Fuck buddies, really. It shouldn’t have been such a punch to the gut.

Nancy Wheeler wasn’t even hot, and definitely not anywhere near good enough for Steve. He chose not to dwell on the clear similarities between her and himself. Not part of the popular crowd, gangly limbs, dark curly hair. Jeff pointed out it was probably to pass a class, but Wheeler was only a sophomore. And Steve had no problems using that charm of his to get extra credit.

Then Steve showed up at the trailer for the first time, bleeding and slurring and not making any sense. But Eddie got him into the shower, butterfly bandaged his face up and got some of the story out of him after a few beers between them.

He hadn’t thought Jonathan Byers had it in him.

He jolted, blinking up at Wayne who stood above him, apparently had kicked his foot to wake him. Why was he on the couch?

“That wasn’t your doing, right?” Wayne jutted his chin to his left. Eddie frowned, trying to move his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes. The arm that was wrapped around one Steve Harrington, sporting two black eyes and the cut across his eyebrow bleeding again.

He looked up, cringing at his uncle. “It wasn’t.” Then their current predicament hit him. “Uhh-“

“Should’ve put ice on it, instead of just drinking all the beer,” Wayne huffed, turning to ease himself into his chair, calmly opening up the newspaper. As if that settled everything.

Eddie blinked. Frowned. Rubbed his face. “That’s it?”

Wayne grunted. “Seems like it. Unless you need me to give you ‘The Talk?’”

They both shook their heads, and then laughed.

The jostling finally woke Steve.

“Hey,” he groaned, wincing. Eddie caught his hand before he could poke at his face. “Ouch.”

Steve’s eyes widened comically as they landed on Wayne. He untangled himself from Eddie and shuffled quickly to the other end of the couch.

“Uhhh- I- we-”

Eddie almost wanted to see what his excuse would be, caught snuggling on the couch with the likes of him. Wayne waved him off though.

“Don’t mention it, kid. But don’t bleed on the couch, huh? Family heirloom.”

Steve groaned again as his face moved between surprise, confusion and settled on pain. He stumbled to the bathroom and Eddie rolled his eyes at his uncle. “Family heirloom? We found it by the dumpsters.”

“I’m leaving it to you in my will,” he answered without looking up from his sports page.

“It’s too early for this shit, man,” Eddie grumbled and went to make coffee.

Since Wayne didn’t have a problem with them hanging out — or anything else, as long as they were quiet — Steve became a pretty regular visitor to the trailer. Steve seemed to prefer the trailer to his cushy, usually empty house. And Uncle Wayne was happy to have someone to talk football with.

Eddie didn’t go to his classmates’ graduation. Actually the principal made it clear in no uncertain terms that he should not make an appearance. He was probably worried he’d pull a stunt, but it would’ve been nice to watch his friends walk across the stage. And Steve.

But all of that was erased from his mind as he flicked the graduation gown up Steve’s back

“No shirt, baby? Wanted to give them a show, huh?”

Steve gasped, arching his back into the finger Eddie was dragging down his spine. The rough black fabric highlighted his tanned and freckled back beautifully.

“It was hot, ah!”

Eddie’s fingers had made their way down to his boxers, tugging none too gently at the waistband.

Does it turn you on when I turn you around?

Can we make a scene?

Can you make it loud?

He was the one groaning when he found his pretty ass already wet and open.

“What’s this, Stevie?” He gave him a moment to think as he roughly plunged three fingers in his loosened hole.

“I- oh my god. I didn’t want to wait.”

Eddie hummed, pressing biting kisses down his back. “Where’d you do it, huh? Spread out on your big bed thinking about my cock?”

With a shake of his head, Steve wailed. “No,” he dragged the word out as Eddie teased his prostate. “In the shower.”

Eddie grinned. “Ohhh I see. Did you touch yourself thinking about getting fucked later? Getting yourself all open for me?”

There was a shudder around his fingers and Eddie thought momentarily that Steve had come already but instead he practically yelled, “Yes!”

“Is that right? Did you come? Playing with your ass like a little horndog?” Eddie teased, rubbing continuously now against his prostate.

Steve was whining and groaning so loudly now Eddie hoped no one called the cops.

“That’s it, get loud for me. Wanna hear you. Are you that close already?”

Steve shrieked, and Eddie chuckled. But then almost swallowed his tongue when Steve cried out, “Didn’t- ah! Didn’t come! I waited! Wanted you!”

Eddie could’ve come untouched at that. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Shocking him even further, Steve got enough leverage to turn most of the way over to look back at him. “C-can, please Eds. Can I turn around? Want to be… Need to see you. Please?”

It was that last ‘please’ that got him. The final crack in his resolve, every reasonable argument now quiet to his plea.

Eddie pulled away, then rearranged them in his tiny twin bed. Steve shuddered again as Eddie guided his hips.

Almost as soon as he was fully inside, Steve’s mouth was on his.

I like the way you kiss me, I can tell you miss me

I can tell it hits, hits, hits, hits

Eddie was not going to last long, and from the way Steve was mewling against his lips and meeting his thrusts he didn’t think he would either. The knowledge that Steve had edged himself earlier and probably thought about him the entirety of his commencement, squirming around on his hard chair had him biting into Steve’s lip as he came hard into his body.

“Eds Eds- oh my god,” Steve breathed, staring up at him with those beautiful doe eyes as he came untouched between them.

After they came down, Steve chuckled into his chest. Eddie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe I’ll have to keep the cap and gown, huh?”

“Fuck yes.”

[psqqa]

“and i would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for my own meddlesome penchant for needless poetics”

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul

in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members

➺ bitchin - by @kinktae

summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien

summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton

summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts

summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts

summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces

➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie

summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons

summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

➺ changes in between - by @taegularities

summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie

summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

➺ sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild

summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae

summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash

summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.

➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates

summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

[lipringlrh]

HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER PART 2 (LANDO ENDING)

read: part one | logan ending

summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.

pairing: lando norris x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

Lando wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that night was the worst sleep he’d ever had. He left as soon as he found out you’d left with Lily and Alex, and made his way to your house just to find out you weren’t there. He messaged Alex to get no response and contemplated waiting outside your door until you came back, whether it be days or months, he’d wait for you. But, after almost falling asleep numerous times and getting laughed at by a group of teenagers, he made his way back to his apartment, knowing you’d be looked after.

He was awake almost all night, messaging and calling you and regretting everything in its entirety. He didn’t fully know if you had even seen him kiss the person that resembled you, he only felt it deep down, but even if you hadn’t, he shouldn’t have done it, and he could never apologise enough. He thought of how to explain his thoughts but nothing would suffice; nothing would ever be able to explain how he felt.

At some point in the early hours, he finally drifted off, but awoke not much later to an aggressive banging on his door and a voice screaming at him to hurry up. He wished the voice was you but it wasn’t and he hated it. He rushed to his door, barely having time to pull on some grey joggers before opening it to an angry Alex, very close to breaking the door down.

“Are you stupid?” Alex questioned, fuming, pushing his way into Lando’s house, “I know that you’re in love with her so what are you doing?”

Lando looked like a deer in headlights. He couldn’t explain his actions, he didn’t even want to think about them. All he remembered feeling was grief at watching you walk away, so when he found someone that looked eerily similar, he took the chance to kiss them and create the image in his mind of kissing you. It didn’t last long. He realised too quickly that they didn’t smell like you and the way they kissed wasn’t the same. He hated it, he didn’t want to kiss anyone but you.

“I know, I didn’t mean to-”

“What, you just tripped into her mouth then?” Alex questioned, pushing a finger against Lando’s chest.

“No- no. I don’t know why I did, I really love them I promise. We almost kissed but then they walked away, I was hurt, I didn’t think they wanted me,” Lando almost cried, his voice cracking.

“You do this every time you go out. You kiss her every time you go out and she follows, you don’t get to pull that card. You might be upset but I promise you’re not even feeling half of it,” Alex spat, not caring if he hurt Lando because he hurt you much more.

“Help me apologise. I need to apologise, please Alex, please help,” Lando begged, wanting you to more than anything, “Please Alex, I’ll do anything.”

Alex sighed. At that moment, he hated Lando for what he did, but he’d been wishing for you both to get together since he first saw you both together, making heart eyes at each other. He contemplated in his head whether to help or not. He always envisioned you together but always wanted what's best for you and right now he couldn’t tell if that was Lando or not. But looking at the state of him, red, wet eyes, begging for his help, he wanted to believe Lando regretted everything and would do anything to prove he loved you.

“Okay, but I’m not letting you be forgiven easily, I want you to prove it,” Alex sighed, running his hands over his face. A feeling of simultaneous relief and guilt eating him alive.

Lando promised Alex over and over again, and in between each syllable, promising himself also that he would give you the world in apologies, and whatever happened he deserved it, but even if there was the slimmest chance you could forgive him, Lando would take it and cherish it.

Alex messaged you and you told him it was fine to bring Lando over, as long as he didn’t expect much, and so they turned up less than five minutes later. Alex left you both alone in the kitchen to sit with Lily in the living room after repeating countless times he was a shout away.

You almost broke down just seeing him but managed to keep it in. You didn’t want him to explain, you didn’t care to hear it at the moment, but as soon as Alex left he began spilling out apologies and trying to explain himself, which you quickly shut up.

“I want some space,” you sighed. You wanted Lando close but you wanted everything you felt for him gone first. You couldn’t believe he ever felt the same, not after that.

“Of course, I understand,” his voice broke as he stepped back, trying to show you he would do anything you said.

“Not like that, Lando. I mean it, I don’t think I can see you for a while.”

“Oh-” he said, “When can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be, this is my fault,” he sighed, clearly upset and looking at the ground, “I’ll go, I’ll see you soon.”

After he left, you broke down crying, debating your decision on if you handled it right. You already missed him, and still loved him, but you also didn’t want to see him. Alex explained the whole morning, and his perspective, giving you hope you could fix it with Lando, especially after Alex’s approval, which you trusted more than anything.

The next few times you saw him were at hangouts with your shared friends. You knew he’d be there as none of your friends would invite him unless you were completely sure you didn’t mind him there. He stayed away, but didn’t make it awkward to the people around you, and always gave you a shy smile when you caught his eye.

He didn’t try to text or call again, despite wanting to more than anything, and instead waited for you to make the first move whenever you were ready. You had missed him more than anything, in both an “I love him” and “he’s my best friend” way, and it was killing you from being away from him, especially after how well he listened to your instructions.

You were at a mutual friend's get-together, a small barbecue in a back garden when you decided it was time. You had been debating texting him but after seeing him, you decided you couldn’t wait.

He was standing alone in a corner beside a flower patch and some grass, drink in hand, and surveying everyone that was there when you walked over. He didn’t know how to greet you and so awkwardly moved his hands between going for a hug or a handshake. You laughed and hugged him, both of you holding on tightly, unhappy to let go.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered gently, looking down and playing with your fingers, slightly nervous to admit it to him after all this time.

“I’ve missed you too,” he grins, adding on, “So much,” with a quiet whisper.

“How’ve you been?” you asked, trying to make small talk before delving right in.

“Okay, I’ve not really done much. Races have been okay.”

“I saw,” you smiled, “You’ve done really well.”

“You watched?” he questioned, a little surprised. You met his eyes and nodded, explaining how you could never miss one.

“Do you want to talk inside?” you asked, heart pounding as you said it. He nodded immediately, without hesitation, and followed you in through the double glass doors into the kitchen, but only after picking out a daisy from the grass next to him and offering it out to you, causing both of you to grin.

He closed the doors behind you both, blocking out as much other noise as possible, ready for you to begin. “I want to know how you feel about this and about me,” you started, voice shaky.

“I’m sorry, I’m still so sorry. I love you and I want what’s best for you and I can’t even find an excuse, I was being stupid and thinking how you’d never want me. It was all nothing, you’re the only person that’s ever meant anything, I’m so sorry. I will do anything to fix this- anything.”

“Lan,” you let out a breath, “You still want me?”

“More than anything,” he grinned and you stepped forward to reach him, locking your arms around his neck.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pull his face down until his lips are almost touching yours. He was smiling so much you thought it might be impossible to kiss him but you pulled him into you anyway, finally kissing him again.

“Stop smiling,” you laughed, pulling away to say it before immediately kissing him again.

“What? Can I not be happy? I’m getting my girl back,” he pulled away, grinning harder, then trying to drag you back in, which was almost successful until you pulled away at the last second.

“I can barely kiss you like this and I’d really, really like to,” you giggled, tugging him back again to enjoy another impatient kiss.

Your hands were running all over his head, completely ruining his hair, but he didn’t care. His hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you impossibly close. When you finally parted he still kept you close, resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you sure you want this?” he questioned, his breath still heavy.

You kissed his cheek and looked straight into his eyes, “More than anything, I promise,” you paused for a moment, “But you’re going to have to grovel to repay all the lost time we’ve had.”

“I’m going to prove to you that I’m all in, that I want this more than I could possibly explain,” Lando promised, meaning every word. He was already planning out exactly what he wanted to do - he knew he had to work to become your official boyfriend, but he would do everything possible for you.

You just stared at him, showcasing the biggest smile you’ve ever had, eyes full of love, knowing you weren’t ever going to let each other go or even risk it again.

“God I love you,” he grinned, ignoring the fact he still hadn’t caught his breath and pulling you into another, more intimate, kiss.

taglist in reblogs

[jolapeno]

met you once, saw you thrice

lucien flores x f!reader

summary: the first time, he kissed you. the second time, you found yourselves in a bathroom. the third time, well, the third time.

warnings: 18+ smut, fingering aka hands go inside underwear under a tree. not-friends to not-lovers. tension. lots of references to past debauchery. slight mention of lucien's sobriety. lots of plot for some sexy rewards. wc: 5.3k an: this is my submission to summer lovin', brought to you by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy. i got Lucien, and this gorgeous moodboard. im a touch nervous about this man as i usually need the source material to write, so be kind. huge thanks to @pedgito for hand holding and to my circle for lifting me when i kept falling.

You shouldn’t be here.

That’s what you think, hovering under the white canopy away from the sun, surrounded by expensive bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets, their labels catching the flickering candlelight strategically placed around the sprawling garden.

Another bead falls down your glass, the ice in your drink melting. Thick rolls of condensation drip over your knuckles, along your hand, and down your wrist. Each one falls like rain, landing on the flowy skirt of your summer dress.

It's a new purchase, far too expensive, the label tucked inside, hidden away—pressing and cutting into your skin when you move—doing so each time you nod and over-pronounce a hello to those draped in designers and silk, while the grill sizzles and steams as more is added to it.

You shouldn’t be here because you don’t belong.

Not an actor, not someone on stage; not a writer or a producer. Not the girlfriend of one either. Just a friend of a friend—one ditched, left to ferment with the salad wilting in the warm temperatures as Smith flits between flirting with a waiter and the one he really wants.

You’re not sure why you let him convince you to come. Even as you take another sip, glancing at the time on your wrist, the free food and drink are slowly becoming less worth it. Assessing through sideward glances where the hand needs to be before you can dismiss the worries of being a bad friend and hail a cab.

Not that Smith would notice.

To him, you had completed your role, and earned your accolade in his eyes—the role of not allowing him to come to this alone. It would be criminal to do that. To let him arrive at a house tucked into acres, with Dom Perignon on tap and a grill larger than your kitchen.

You know you should be grateful Smith hadn’t traded you for his new friends. The ones who walk red carpets and call him Smithy. You suppose you should also be thankful he brings you so you can take home stories that make you not hate that you live in a studio apartment and work a 9 to 5.

It’s hard not to be bitter right now. On your own. Exhaling and staring around, wearing that plastered-on half-smile perfected from shitty customer service jobs.

Bringing your glass back to your lips, doing one last sweep before you sneak out, fighting the scent of split open apricots and pungent flowery perfume, you see him. Spot him. The crowd practically parting for him to come into view, creating a gap that would make a romantic swoon.

But, you’re no romantic—more thrillers and mysteries on your nightstand than meet cutes and midnight kisses. If anything, you’re more a cynic, a twisted-up, poisoned hater of hand-holding and Sunday mornings.

Especially when it comes to him.

Lucien Flores.

His name echoes around your skull in the same way it did when it was first introduced to you. Dropped to you, honeyed and elongated as though by stretching it out, you’d fall under some spell as he seated himself beside you—a deck of cards in hand.

Tipping the glass, your mouth fills with lemonade, holding his gaze—willing to do so until your eyes burn, until it feels impossible. All stubborn to a fault. Obstinate and arrogant.

You’re saved as a group moves in between the two of you—breaking it for you.

And you decide, rather quickly, it’s time to move—hoping the sight of your back will be enough for him not to press further.

You’re not counting—but he waits an hour.

Crosses the garden, where the tables have moved into standing groups around various points of the green. Some have stood to mingle, to mill around with their flutes and their tales of marriage, honours, and complaints once the grilling finished and the bubbles got to some of the louder women. Others begin the garden games, the ones which had no rules but also had some, as though the aim was to confuse rather than create fun.

Smith had returned between the salad being offered and the grilled steaks. A leaf between his fingers, he whispered he was going back to his tennis match. A twinkle in his eye, a kiss to your forehead, a promise there but one that never really seals itself or makes itself solid. Just confirms that your use was done—You don’t have to wait for me, pumpkin.

A nickname which had once made you smile and now just makes your heart lurch when you let go of his hand and watch him vanish into the house.

One person who hasn’t vanished is Lucien. It surprises you that he’s waited so long to make his approach. Almost as surprising as it is to see him, having heard rumours he’d landed a role in a movie—something British, remote, taking him overseas.

But he’s here. All brown eyes that attempt to drown you, pull you under—dig into you. You feel you should be used to them; they’ve been fixed on you for so long. Soaking you in deep chocolate, thick enough to make it feel like it’s hard to move, to fight it—akin to sludge, mud—as he begins to smirk as he nears.

And maybe he remembers too.

Able to recall a time similar to this. Not the first, but the second. When instead of barbecues and setting suns, it had been wine, cheese and a much later evening. Card games having caused outrage, shrieked words from a woman who should have been cut off a while ago, having caused you to slip out, escape to the first-floor bathroom. Finding he followed.

Don’t think about him—

The opposite sprouts so easily, you have to wonder what soil lives in your mind.

Because, of course, you had thought about it, about him. More than you should. Heat gliding up your neck now, making you shift your shoulders as the straps of your dress cut in, as you do. You think about how his lips felt on the juncture of your neck when you sit in conference calls, and how his hips had dipped before you felt his hardening cock slide over your covered ass. At night, you think about how it feels to have his thick fingers sliding open the button and zip of your pantsuit, how they’d slid inside your new lace undies and collected your slick to enjoy a taste.

The more you stopped yourself, the worse it became. Craving him when the moon was at its highest, hand delving between your thighs as you tried to replicate all the places he touched. Wanting, needing—desperately desiring until you arched from your sheets, sprinkled in sweat as you hissed his name out between gritted teeth.

That’s all you allow.

No second-glances passing newspaper stands when he makes the front page, no secret Google searches when you were frustrated and impossibly lonely. Knowing, and comprehending, that if you did, it would only lead to further disappointment. It would land you somewhere close to remembered disinterest, like those times when you’d found yourself sat across from charm and wit—making you disassociate when your palm rested on white linen with a candle flickering in the middle as you hoped, prayed, internally begged for a comment on how nice you’d looked.

Not again.

Never again.

So, you placed him where you suspected he had placed you. Out of sight, out of mind. Yours a box, right at the back of your mind—the lid sliding free when you needed release, and only then. It marked in thick Sharpie: a good time, even better cock, but comes with baggage.

It’s why you stand as he takes the final steps to you, your hand retrieving your glass, only to find it empty, drained, with only the little bits of fruit and a smidge of ice at the bottom. But his hands were not.

Extending one to you, one that looked close to the one you’d been enjoying—all mint leaves and lemon slices swimming in lemonade.

“What are the chances?”

You snort, taking a sip. “You’ve used that line.”

“Have I?”

“The last time.”

It’s his turn to snort. Staring. Looking you up and down in a soft drag that makes your stomach flip and your skin prickle with heat.

“Next you’ll tell me your name, tell me that you’re a movie star and that you’ve not seen me around.”

For a second, he gives you a silent stare, eyes speaking volumes that you couldn’t hear as he chews his tongue, and flicks his eyes from your chest back to your face once, twice. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

Swallowing, wrapping a hand around your middle, you smile—cold, wickedly. “No.”

“S’that why you won’t look at me?”

You eye him, as he does you. Despising that he looks good—that it’s another silk shirt, slightly unbuttoned, similar gold chains hanging from his neck. Hating that he looks so broad, that you remember how it feels to have them spreading your legs, how his chest feels pressed to your back with his cock in your pussy.

Loathing that right now, as you will a quip, a response, your thigh remembers how his palm felt on it as he held it and speared into you. How much of a mess he made of you, that you’d come so hard you’d seen galaxies and not just stars.

“Never known you to be this qui—”

Scowling at him through your eyebrows, you slide your lips into your cheek and straighten your spine. “Do I still look nervous?”

Your pulse quickens as he takes another step closer. His aftershave smothers you. It’s wooden and earthy this time, it flooding your senses as blood hammers in your ears. Every muscle in your frame going taught, tight—so close to snapping that you expect with one breath you’d play a tune like a harp.

Scoffing, a roll of his eyes and he’s taking a long drink of his water—a pebble of it remaining on his lower lip, it commanding to be stared at, to be wiped, to be noticed and applauded like the rest of him as he replies no.

You’re quick not to react, to let pride flood your expression. Something warning you against it, telling you not to—especially when he places his bottle down. The sound echoes out in the quietness of the moment.

“You do look fucking miserable though.”

There it is. Expecting it, the doorway to show itself so he can use a line to cheer you up, to have you smiling, as though he’s a gift. His cock might be, not that you’ll admit it—not even if he begged, if he pleaded.

“Maybe that’s because this asshole keeps staring at me.”

“You think I’m an asshole?”

Eyes narrowing, head tilting to the side as you shrug. “I don’t think you’re not an asshole.”

Rolling his lips, pursing them, before they flatten into a line—hand stroking the hair along his chin, his jaw, he bathes in it, your insult. Let it simmer, cook, before clearing his throat. “Is that why you gave me a fake number?”

Your mouth falls open. Your eyes quickly widen—all cards gone, knocking the air out of your lungs as your heart slams into your stomach for different reasons as he sneers, and shakes his head.

“Enjoy your drink.”

“I—I…”

But, he’s already turned his back.

While a perfectly good exit window had cracked itself open for you, you don’t take it.

Even if it would have allowed you to bid the ache in the arch of your foot goodbye, slide out with the people moving into the house to avoid the chill and those making their own escape.

But, guilt gnawed, chewed. It there ruminating when you catch sight of his silk shirt between other guests. When the scent of his aftershave lingered in the air when you stepped inside to catch your breath from having to re-explain what it is you do to the same people you had done hours ago.

You know he’s presenting a chance to leave, yet your hand grabs another glass bottle of water, the lemon slice bobbing around as you venture down the lit path no one else seems to be trekking.

The one you know he escaped down earlier, seeing it after you’d heard some of them talking about him—the man who doesn’t settle, the one who’s clean but not really clean, the one who has talent and charm, and they wonder in their hushed voices if his cock is really as big as it’s rumoured.

It took all you had to bite back that it is, wanting to point out you’d discovered it in one of their new bathrooms only three months ago.

You pause when you reach the end of the path as it morphs into perfectly manicured grass. Feet sliding from your shoes as you grab the straps, wondering what you’re doing—cursing yourself as your chest heaves and presses roughly against the too-expensive fabric as you question all life choices.

Because you wouldn’t survive him.

A man too big for you, who wouldn’t fit in your world. There’d be no farmers markets and Chinese takeout boxes in bed; no quaint coffee shops and sharing of woes of the day. It would be unbalanced, wrong, awkward, in the same way, it would be if you let him step into your shoebox of an apartment and battle feeling smaller than you do when you’re alone.

Adventure, you think.

He’d said that the first time—when his fingers had wrapped around your wrist and tugged you further into someone's hedge you didn’t know. All green leaves and the scent of flowers sticking to your skin as his mouth pressed to yours. He’d repeated it in the bathroom, your palm flush to the white tiles above the sink—clawing at grout as he hissed it in your ear, filling you, making your mouth contort around a moan of his name as he dragged his cock in and out of your puffy, needy hole.

You suppose adventures are fleeting, not ever after.

Something momentary, nothing serious.

You wonder if he’s actually an adventure or if he just thinks he is. Whether he struggles to leave the fun of who he plays or whether it bleeds into him—a patchwork personality of who he’s had to morph into. It gives him the tools to be an escape, becoming a pause from the mundane, but nothing that stretches itself out passed an evening into the daytime.

When you spot him, your adventure has his phone in hand—spinning it, round and around. Lit cigarette between his lips, the tip burning, paper crisping.

“You seem like trouble.”

Lucien doesn’t turn, but he hears your announcement.

The phone pauses in its 180—it catching the light flickering in the tree above, making the leaves and branches more ominous than they do surrounded by the vivid oranges and reds of the sunset, all fiery intensity. As though the horizon itself had caught fire from the tension, the sun sinking slowly into it, leaving a trail of molten gold and crimson streaks.

“Trouble?” he asks, deep, guttural—caked in smoke and disbelief.

“Trouble.”

Taking another step closer, you stop close to his side. Handing him the bottle, feeling him take it as drop your shoes and stare in the same direction he is—taking in the shades as they deepen before the sun bids the day goodbye.

“That realisation come before or after you came on my cock?”

Nostrils flaring, you regret finding him almost instantly. Shame blooming, filling you from stomach to throat. “A-after.”

He makes a noise, and leaves you in the cold of his mood. To the point, you question again what it is you’re doing. Why you fucking care. Because you don’t. Not really. There’s nothing to know, to latch to—no feelings that could become anything more than a crush.

Incompatible, you think. Incompatible. Incompatible. Incompatible—

“You brought me water.”

His head turns, takes you in—and sweeps you in the familiar brown from earlier. And this time, you let it hang on your shoulders like a sweater. Let it warm you, and bring you comfort. Allow it to smother the shame and force it to seep away as he blows out rings of smoke.

It quickens in its retreat when he pushes off from the trunk, pocketing his phone—it stretching the pocket of his dark jeans as you will yourself not to stare at the bulge already there.

“I did.” It’s matter of fact, no further questions—head dipping, a tightness forming as you shake your head and exhale. “I… I just don’t think your sobriety is a joke.”

You feel his gaze snap to you as the words hang—stringing themselves together like twinkling lights. Unwilling again to meet him, wondering if he was thinking about it, that first time. When a sentence was said in response to a casual joke as the two of you hid out of view. It was made by someone you didn't know, at a party where people pretended to be friends when really they were trying to belittle one another, and Smith pretended he wasn’t in love with the older man he’s vying for.

His cigarette is almost out when you look at him, the lit end illuminating his face in some ways, and casted shadows in others. But, you could see his eyes searing—likely able to even in the darkest night. It etches into you as he takes another drag, as your nose tries to capture the scent of it, it so him, a thing which comes to you when you’re close from your own hand, blotched by it.

“Do you have a collection of silk shirts or something?” 

Smirking, blowing a smoke ring between the two of you. “Do you not like my shirts?”

Breathing, you fight saying I do. Not enjoying that you think of how they feel between your thighs when he'd spread you with his thumb when his tongue had licked from clit to hole and made you sob.

“They’re okay.” 

“Liar.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “Says you.”

“She miss me?” Stuffing the cigarette under his shoe, leaning the water against the base of the tree as his chains catch the light as he straightens. “Bet she’s missed me.”

“She?”

His lips curl, eyes flicking down to the place your thighs meet, before he hauls them back up.

And it’s instant, the way heat floods your cheek, pussy fluttering around nothing—remembering.

The noise is first, recalling whispering sweet nothings as he slid inside you in one thrust. Next is the feel of him, the stretch, how impossible it had felt as he kept going, and going, until those fingers, thick and dexterous slid over your swollen nerves. Then, there’s the aftershave, the same as he’s wearing tonight. How it mixed with smoke and liquor, and roses and expensive hand soap—

“D-don’t flatter yourself.”

But you swallow, give it away. Shaky on two legs as you try to look unfazed.

Because you’re pulsing between your legs, starving, aching. Trying to blink back memories of his tongue, of his thigh, or his crooked smile in the mirror as he repeated your name, over and over, like it held weight—like it lived on his tongue and in his mind—

“Parched, are you?”

“Parched?” you hiss. “Who the fuck even are you? Who the fuck says parched—”

Snorting harshly, leaning in his stance as he shrugs, “Oh, you know who I am. I’m baby, baby, right there, baby, I’m gonna come, Luci—”

In a step, your chest is flush with his—hands steadying you on your hips as your palm flattens to his words. You’re aware of him smirking, gloating, right against your skin; feeling the wiry hair around his mouth scratching at you, the same one that left your skin raw and irritated from lapping up the taste of you both before sending you back out to smile.

Lowering your hand, you become conscious of how close you are and how his fingers spread out, holding you tighter, keeping you pinned against him as you descend into his web all over again. Embers spreading out, electricity pulsing out from where his fingers touch you over your dress, as your body recognises, identifies.

“I’m trying not to be an asshole.”

“Is that what you’re doing…”

His hand reaches up, stroking your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip as you take in a deep breath. “Tell me you don’t want me to make you come.”

You should. But, you don’t.

Instead, you close your mouth around his thumb, swirling the tip of it with your tongue as he grunts, right in the back of his throat before he slips it out with a pop. A second brews, and then another before his mouth crashes to yours, all impatient, hungry—rough. Lips parting for him as you feel him lick into your mouth, tasting cigarettes and lemon, at the same time as your back meets bark.

And you’re desperate, yearning.

Tugging him close, palms sliding over silk as you make a note that it’s softer than the faux-paint-splattered one. More velvety, smooth. Hooking your hands around the back of his neck as you pull him closer, practically feeling each breath as coolness slides up your leg, the heel of his hand gliding behind as he bunches the fabric in his hand, his jean-covered thigh coming up between yours as you hiss into his mouth at the contact. Lost in it, in him.

In how intoxicating he is, how wrong it is, clawing at him to come closer, to touch you, whining as he teases you by rocking his knee and slides his palm to cup your breast through your dress. Thumb expertly hardening your nipple, tongue lathing over a spot on your neck that has you keening.

You forget, for a moment, blissfully allow yourself to until he’s pulling at it—tugging at the label as you try to pull his face up.

“Shit, Lucien, no.”

He grunts. Not mockingly, but not full of surprise either. “Planning on returning this?”

Clenching your teeth, you take a breath—needing air to fill your brain to help you think. To ignore the way your lips are swollen and your underwear is already soaked and pressing to his thick thigh.

“Yes.”

“You look too fuckin’ good in this dress to return it.”

“Well unless you’re going to buy it, I have no other choice—”

“I’ll buy it.”

“No you fucking won’t.”

Because it would be wrong.

More than an exchange of your body, more than a mutual appreciation and hunger and need. It would be a gift. A something more. A thing that would fester in your closet and make you hope when you see it, make you dream when your finger slides over the fabric.

“Lucien.”

His fingers drop it, let it hang—the tag. Both your embarrassment and the price of it, just there, as his lips slide down your jaw.

“You won’t want to return it. You’ll want to see it hung in your closet—bury your fingers in your underwear as you stare at it, thinking of this.” Teeth grazing over your pulse, tongue swirling a signature you suspect is his own. “You’ll think of me when you stick that toy in your pussy, wishing it was me, turn it on right between your perfect fucking thighs and—”

You blame his fingers ghosting over your upper thigh for what you let escape, let slip free. “Already think of you.”

Pausing, his shoulders bow—somehow becoming even broader before his head comes up from his place buried in your neck. You see it, words, kindness—a bunch of things he could likely reel off that would make you ruin the wet patch on your gusset even wider.

But he ingests them, consumes them like they never existed. A different offered kindness, you suppose—as though he knows, can see, and begins to understand.

“Be rude of me not to say hi to her then.”

“Why do you…”

His thumb hooks into one side of your underwear, dragging it from its place. Aware of it, the way he’s gentle in shifting the fabric down, handing you the bunched-up dress with a pointed stare, before he’s teasing your lace from between your slick, soaked core. Tugging it down your thighs, eyes not breaking from yours, exhaling as he licks his lips at the sight of you bare to him in the middle of someone's fucking garden.

“Lift?”

And you do, without question. Taking a deep inhale in, closing your eyes, hand covering your face as you lift one foot, then the other.

Finding him staring when you look down. Ogling. Admiring you like what is there between your thighs is some art piece, an exhibit, a thing he’d queue for—as he pockets your panties.

“I’m keeping these.”

“Lucien…”

His hand urging yours to take the balled-up fabric of your dress as he rises, places kisses on your outer thighs, dragging his face slowly up your frame—breath fanning out, somehow feeling it under your layers.

“I’m. Keeping. Them.”

You swallow, silently surrendering. Back of your head flat against the tree as his hands nudge your thighs to part.

“Gorgeous.” He whispers. “You’re so gorgeous—prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

A protest readying, but stolen as one of his thick fingers slides over and through your folds. Knowing you, understanding you. Standing as he drags your slick to your desperate, swollen clit, swirling it, massaging it as you hiccup his name and forget all about his compliment and chase his lips instead. Instead, your hips move on instinct, desiring—determined to find more friction even as he just slowly draws a circle.

You know he’s grinning. Cockily. Frame pressing to you as you feel his hard cock against your thigh—hips keeping you pinned. Fixed.

“You want my fingers? Let me give you my fingers, baby.”

Nodding, fingers tangling in his curls you say it, more in a whisper, something close to a whine: yes, please, yes—

Aware of the heaviness in the air, how thick it feels, even in the breeze. In the same way, you’re aware of the way he breathes good girl. It makes you shudder, yearn, more so when he slides his fingers down from your clit and works two into you.

You gasp. Almost crying out. Unable to stop yourself when he curls them inside of you, bearing down on him, squeezing him, hand releasing your dress as your fingers grip his forearm.

“Want me to stop?”

Shaking your head, no, no, no—

“Good,” he breathes, kissing the side of your mouth. “She’s the best pussy I’ve ever had my fingers in.”

You almost hiss your bet that he says that to all the girls. But, your teeth grit. Not wanting him to stop. Not as your head tilts, eyes opening to see the navy blue smothering burnt orange, blurring the afternoon into the night through your lashes. Shh, he coaxes, as your nails dig into the bark, as he finds that spot inside of you that makes you dizzy, makes you pant. He works it, makes you roll your hips and his palm catches your clit in teased movements—

“Feel so good clenching down on me.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, and buries it right into your neck as he nips, as he grazes his teeth over your skin. “You tell me one thing but she’s giving you away, baby. Telling me all your secrets.”

Your hand tightens around the fabric in your palm, mouth falling open, paused around words that won’t appear—

“Said you’d tried to make your fingers feel like mine. But they just, wouldn’t, do.”

Each word is punctuated by his fingers fucking into you, crooked, making you messier, wetter, hearing the evidence of it, all filthy, obscene. Enough to get you barred from one of these events again.

Good you almost think, until his mouth slants over yours. Then, it’s bad. Very bad. Each flick of his wrist, and curve of his fingers solidifies it. How bad it would be to lose this, to lose him. The man who has your vision spotting, darkening in the corners.

“Fuck me, Lucien. Please—”

“Not tonight.”

Blinking, hearing it over and over: not tonight, not tonight, not tonight. Your body is lit, more electric than skin and muscle. Thrumming, vibrating bone against blood as he drags his moistened lips against your cheek.

“That’s it. Give it to me, can feel you squeezin’. I know you’re close, baby. So, soak my fingers, want you to stain them, make—”

You come somewhere amid his sentence—right when he kisses you properly. When he presses his vulgar words to your mouth and curls his fingers to meet that spot that has you arching, tensing and chasing. It’s maddening, and everything else before that. Hitting you, and exploding out—something like liquid fire erupting through you as you bear down on his fingers. Each cry and whine muffled by his mouth, by his tongue licking past your teeth and his hips being flush to yours. Pinning.

Because he doesn’t slow or stop even as you tremble. Not doing so until you’re gasping, frayed, all shaking nerves and splintered edges. Lucien swallows each heaved and hissed version of his name until you’re nudging him with your forehead, face scrunching, fingers pushing on his forearm until he retracts.

And, like it does in the movies, your dress falls back down into place. Creased, likely ruined. But nonetheless perfect to anyone who may glance.

Not that you care. Not as you chase normal breaths, as you blink and he comes back into vision, all ridiculously handsome and wide, brown eyes.

Because he’s watching you, seeing his lips curl into his cheek, fingers being brought to his mouth before he wraps his tongue around them. Licks and sucks you clean from them—

It makes you breathe heavier. Want more.

Even on shaky legs, you take a step closer to be flush to him. Arms sliding around his neck, finding your mouth glues back to his as though it should be there. Tasting yourself now, discerning it from the other things he’s enjoyed tonight.

“You do make me nervous when you stare.”

He gives a short laugh, hand on the back of your neck, tugging you back so he can stare into your soul. Something there. Something hurt that has healed all wrong, left things poisoned and rotten as you.

“You know I’m too fucked to be anyone’s anything, right?”

You smile, fingers teasing the hair on the back of his neck. Swallowing, seeing it shift back—the usualness of the two of you.

“See, this is where I think you’re an asshole.”

“For being honest?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head—lips ghosting over his. “Because I think you’re a liar. I think you’d kill to be something, never mind an anything.”

Smirking, but you suspect he stops it from being a smile. Offering silence, instead of a lie—a thing that’ll hurt and sting.

“You going to keep the dress?”

Shrugging, offering a roll of your eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“You think I could have your number now?”

Biting your lip, you tug on a particular curl. Hearing a dull yelp, watch him narrow his eyes. “I think you can have an email address and take it from there.”

Snorting, he tilts his head back as the both of you hear a commotion from the other end of the garden. Private time likely ending, his name called out in confusion by the same high-pitched voices you’re sure were comparing his inch size earlier.

“I fucking hate these things.”

“Yet you come to them every time,” you reply.

And then his head moves; stares at your side profile as you pretend not to notice. “So do you.”

So you do, you think.

hope you enjoyed! this was so much fun, and also so scary. but i did it, wahayyy. now, i should admit, i may have fallen for him...

npt's [added from the liked post]: @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @janaispunk @sawymredfox @angiewatson

@survivingandenduring @saradika @purplerain04

[nayatarot777]

how can you co-create with the universe to attract fortune to yourself? 🪡🎨 • pac 🎴

if you’d like a personal reading, then see info here

subscribe to the patreon if you’re interested in daily messages from spirit, weekly pac readings for “the week ahead”, exclusive extended readings to the tumblr PACs, exclusive pac readings - such as 18+ and love pac readings - new moon + full moon readings, plus more. i’m on there everyday, just doing my thing 😂

{• pile one •}

cards: the hierophant, knight of wands, 3 of cups

spirit is suggesting that you focus on finding a community that connects people based on their faith. a community of people who are focused on sharing knowledge and downloads that they’re receiving from the divine. whether this is a spiritual community, a self-help community, maybe even a religious community (please be careful with any communities like this, because when you’re not, that’s when you fall into the trap of a cult 🙃). i’m also seeing that you guys could create your own community of people on your own platform in which people are able to learn valuable lessons from you - especially about friendship, happiness, “sisterhood”, i’m hearing. i’m seeing jupiter in the 4th house/jupiter in cancer, so if you guys have either of those placements (or maybe sagittarius in the 4th, moon in sagittarius, something that mixes cancerian and jupiterian energy together) then your abundance is tied to womanhood and femininity. so surrounding yourself with likeminded women/feminines or helping them in some way will bring a lot of abundance to you. i’m also hearing “changing people’s definition of happiness”. motivating people to follow their own morals and values, leading you to do the same.

{• pile two •}

cards: 2 of swords, knight of pentacles, strength

you attract abundance when you’re in your ego. not when you let your ego control you, but when you control your ego and know how to direct your strengths into some type of creative process that you can persistently focus on. when you focus on taming your ego so that you can use it to your advantage. you need to honour your ego a lot more. i feel like, with the 2 of swords, spirit is saying that you’re listening to external noise from the outside world wayyy too much. you don’t need to look for direction and guidance from other people. other people can’t help you. you need to listen to your intuition. certain communities (especially the “new age”, phony ass ‘spiritual community’) will teach you that it’s a negative to be in your ego. no tf it’s not. your ego is your identity. who you are. if you don’t know who you are, then you’re a nobody. a pushover. with no morals, no personal values, no backbone (which is probably why those same communities promote toxic positivity and being a doormat for the sake of appearing like you’re all ‘love and light’ and shit). fuck all of that. you need to have patience with yourself when developing your ego because you may not even know who you are currently. once you do, you’ll find your courage and strength to listen to your intuition and invest into what it’s telling you. your ego is your life force. feed it with valuable energy by valuing it - regardless of other people’s opinions. only insecure people who don’t know who they are will get triggered by you. who gives a damn about them though? this is your life. start living it as the person who you truly want to be.

{• pile three •}

cards: the emperor, queen of swords, 8 of pentacles

you guys are extremely intelligent people. you need to find confidence in your knowledge and what you know that you know - especially with something practical that you’re trying to master or perfect. you have an eye for what needs to be improved in your day-to-day, practical life or in your business. whenever the emperor comes out with the 8 of pentacles, it definitely indicates entrepreneurship to me as a reader. and this entrepreneurship could be surrounding honesty, truth, giving direct messages to people so that they can improve their life. this could be life coaching, motivational speaking (especially with this emperor (aries energy) mixed with this queen of swords). you guys know how to pump people up to start working on themselves and aspects of their life as much as possible. and you guys are naturals at this. start just posting random posts of encouragement or motivation whenever you get the inspiration to, and i feel like you’ll attract a lot of people to you who are willing to give you abundance in exchange for the energetic abundance that you give to them. you can really monetise your words and your motivation due to the guidance that you’re able to give people about their sense of self and how that relates to their manifestations/goals + achievements. this aries energy could also be about physical activity - like fitness training. you know how to stay on people’s necks so that they complete a task thoroughly and over and over again to the point where they perfect it. and you can do that for yourself. feed into that.

[miumura]

💭 — HEESEUNG AS YOUR BOYFRIEND !

tysm for requesting seol pookie 😊🫶 here to fulfill ur deluluness <3

warnings : mentions of pet names, mentions of kissing

— he definitely loves kissing your hands. like he could be playing around with your hands and suddenly he just kisses your knuckles.

— loves, i mean it, loves it when you sit on his lap. like he would literally drag you to his lap, whether at home or in public. he just likes wrapping his arms around your waist and having you close. screaming

— you can’t tell me he wouldn’t be a jealous type 😭 like he’s jealous and think hes sooo good at hiding it… (hes not good at it whatsoever) like he probably would side-eye anyone who he thinks is being too touchy w/ you… probably pulls that “boyfriend card” and be like, “are you ready to go, babe?” or suddenly kisses you on the cheek to let the other person know you’re off limits … LIKE SHUT UP

— def uses baby/babe…probably uses princess to tease you

— adding onto the teasing part, he would says “oh really?” with a smirk when teasing you just to make you more flustered

— “yeah i think you look great—” “oh really? how so?” “if you don’t shut your mouth.” LMAOOO

— i think he’s a very attentive boyfriend, like he would remember all these little details. so like when he does smth sweet and you ask him why, he simply just goes “because you like it” or “i remember you saying you like this”

— sings for you just because. like if you ask him to sing you to sleep, he’d do it for you everyday and every night

— obviously in love with you. like anyone can spot the heart eyes he gives to you only. and because of this, he gets teased by the others a lot and comes to you for help 😭

— finds you cute for literally no reason. like sir chill out you do not need to be saying cute every minute?? and when he does, he would js walk to you and ruffle your hair or just give you head pats … uh yeah i need a heeseung

— i think he prefers calling over texting just so he could think about your voice / face after the call ends. let’s say, it just makes him fall for you even more <3

— not a spam texter, def sends like 1-2 texts at a time, but flirty ones. and when you give back the same vibe/tone and send similar texts as his, he’s already giggling. yeah, you do that to him.

— def enjoys listening to you talk. if it was possible, he’d just be wanting to hear you talk 24/7. even jokes about how you should create a podcast just for him.

— tells you jokes all the time just for you to laugh at him

— loves kissing you okay …. like you + his lips always. kissing you when you’re out, a quick peck before he leaves the house, smothering you with kisses when it’s time to sleep, just every day, he would kiss you sooo much.

— out of habit, he would always get a second bowl of food just for you. ramen? you don’t even have to ask, he’s already cooking two packs. he just automatically grabs two bowls but serves you first. “do you want this?”

— loves teaching you things he knows how to do. like he would praise you sm after and look at you so lovingly as you attempt it. “you’re doing great!” , “woah you’re better than me!”

💭 — how delulu are you after reading this

ENHA PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @ixomiyu @yenavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @starcubes @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @woon2u @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @tnyhees @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @flwrshee

[stylesparker]

dead man walking

PAIRING: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: language, kidnapping, torture, graphic violence, hurt/comfort, sort of asshole!joel, protective!ellie, please let me know if I missed anything!

The lights that hung above you in your cell flickered again for the seventh time in the past twenty minutes. A new guard walks by and shakes hands with the woman who’s been watching you as of yesterday; they exchange a couple of words, take a glance at you, and snicker as one leaves and one takes the others place on the wooden chair.

You huff in your cold corner of the cell and burrow deeper into yourself, looking away so maybe you can forget that you’re here at all and not at home.

The memory of being torn out of sleep and out of your bed by cruel and harsh hands plagues your mind. The laughter that spilled from their lips when you screamed and kicked and scratched, but to no avail. You can only imagine the image created for Ellie when she came home from her night patrol early in the morning; bed sheets and pillows thrown on the floor torn and shredded, scratch marks all the way down the hallway from your fingernails, picture frames knocked off the walls and broken on the floor, particularly of Ellie. You don’t want to imagine how she might feel, the dread that she might have lost another person in her life with no goodbye.

You do everything you can not to cry.

“What’s the matter with you, stay quiet!” The new guard, a scruffy looking male with blonde hair tied into a bun, bangs the metal bars that hold you inside.

Despite your better judgement, you respond with, “What are you gonna do if I don’t, shoot me?”

He chuckles and turns away from you, “If it were up to me, I’d do much worse.”

That scares you more than you wish it did, so you stay quiet the rest of the night. Your mind wouldn’t let you rest, so you didn’t get a wink of sleep; but the asshole watching you did. As you watched him sleep, you imagined getting out of here somehow, taking him out before he could even know what hit him, and getting back to Ellie before she could even worry. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in your cards, so you huffed and tried to fall asleep.

...

“Damn, I cannot believe how much weed we found!” Dina laughs loudly.

“Yeah, I swear I haven’t found that much since that snowstorm with Y/N,” Ellie smiles at the thought.

Ellie and Dina trudge across the gravel towards the house you share with the two girls and Jesse. As much as Ellie wanted a house to you and herself alone, she had to admit it was fun living with her two closest friends as well; only when they weren’t getting it on in the middle of the night that is.

“God, I remember that day. When you finally grew some balls an-”

“Oh shut up, we were a thing before that!”

“You sure about that? If I recall correctly, you had only thought that-”

Ellie shoved her arm, “Do I really have to beat you to shut your damn mouth?”

“Ya’ know, I’d love that-”

The two friends got their argument shut down as soon as they approached the porch steps of the house; a terrified looking Jesse barges out the door.

“Dude, what the hell-!” The girls say in unison, but immediately stiffen at Jesses next words.

“She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone.” Ellie shoves him aside, ignoring his pleas not to go inside. Her eyes scan the house frantically, her body moving before she could even think, checking every room and only finding more terror.

“Oh my god.” Dina’s face looks like she can’t even fathom what happened, and Jesse is only staring at Ellie. She’s gone rigid, a stone cold look appearing in her eye as she catches sight of the smashed up picture frames, the scratches on the walls, and he knows she’s flipped the switch. They don’t argue and only follow Ellie as she storms out of the house, an aura of rage surrounding her as she went.

“We know who did this right?” Dina asks.

“Yeah, we know alright,” Ellie responds harshly, “and we’re gonna kill those sons of bitches like we should’ve.”

…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Ah shit,” you mutter, abruptly pulled out of your sleep (once again). Your hand flies to your face to cover the bright sun burning directly into your eyes.

“Wakey, wakey!” You hear laughter and rude mutterings coming from outside your cell. You can only imagine the state you must be in right now, but you open your eyes and examine your kidnappers in front of you.

Three guys and two girls, all standing there staring at you.

“What the hell do you want.” You try asserting a dominating tone, but you don’t think it comes across as bossy as you would have hoped.

“What do we want?” The blonde dude who was watching you last night laughs at that, and is quickly followed by the rest of them. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You snap.

He chuckles, crouching to the floor on the other side of the bars.

“Okay, honey. What we want... is a nice chat.”

You glare at them, “The fuck for?”

“Ellie Williams.” One of the girls behind him says. You think it was the redhead one, but you’re not quite sure. The other girl, the brunette, stands there leaning against the wall.

Ellie? You think. What does she have to do with this?

You huff out a laugh as best you can, “Right, and you think I’m gonna tell you anything?”

Blondie smiles, “I know you will. And you wanna know how I know that?”

You glare and don’t say a word.

“Because I know you know who I am.” Suddenly, he pulls his sweatshirt over his head and throws it to the floor. You watch him in confusion as he pulls his sleeve up and up… and…

Oh shit.

“Yeah. You know who I am.” He smiles, but this one, this one is not like the last one. It scares you so deep to your core, you almost try to flatten yourself to the wall behind you to somehow get even farther from him. “I know she would have told you. I’m glad I was right.”

“You attacked them, I don’t blame her for what she did.”

“You’re gonna talk about blame?” He hits the bars and it makes you flinch. “They came through our territory!”

“How the fuck were they supposed to know! They didn’t do shit to you until you fired on them!”

He rolls his eyes, “They knew. They saw the sign.”

“Right, like a damn sign was gonna stop them. For all they knew, the place was abandoned and that sign was years old!”

“Doesn’t matter.” A cold, dark look comes over his eyes. “Williams cut off my arm,” he gestures to the ugly scarring in the middle of his arm, with clusters of risen scar tissue on the edge of it. It looks atrocious, you wonder how he was even able to reattach it, much less use his arm for that matter.

“Well it looks like you got over that.” You mutter, but the look doesn’t leave his eye.

“And she killed my girl.”

His hands reach above him to grab onto the bars to pull him up. He stalks over to the door of the cell and unlocks it, swinging it open. His friends stiffen in anticipation.

“And now I’m gonna kill you.”

...

Joel, Tommy, and Maria were made known of your… disappearance, shortly after the others. Joel had immediately sent out a search party, but he knew what Ellie really wanted.

“No, that’s not gonna happen.”

“Joel, she’s fucking out there, I’m not sitting here-!”

“And I’m not letting you go out there! You know why they took her, right? You do realize why this happened?”

Ellie quickly straightens, mind shutting down at even the thought of it, and Dina and Jesse behind her stand to attention.

“Hey!” Dina marches up to Joel, “don’t bring that shit up. You know how hard that was.”

“Her killing that girl led to this, she has to know that-”

Dina yells, “I think she’s fucking well aware of that, Joel! And I think you should be too since she saved your damn life!”

He quiets, “Yeah, and now she’s gone.” He walks away, leaving the building as Tommy and Maria come in. They look behind them to watch Joel leave, but they walk over to the others, stopping in front of Ellie, who’s looking down at the floor.

“I know you want to go, kid, I would too, but I don’t know if it’s such a good idea. You’re gonna be their main target.” Tommy rests his hand on her shoulder, but she’s quick to shove it off.

“That’s kind of the point.”

“Ellie-”

“I don’t care,” Her voice rises, “I’m getting her back, and nobody’s stopping me.” She marches out the way they came, and Dina and Jesse sigh, following close behind her.

“Dina!” Maria calls. She whips her head back to look at her. “Watch out for her alright? Make sure she comes back with her head.”

Dina nods, “I think she plans to come back with much more than that.”

…

You scream a sharp cry of pain, whimpering at the harsh sting of the knife gliding across your skin. Your bra is soaked in blood since your shirt had been torn open so he could slice your collarbones, and you can feel the cool drip of it hitting your thighs. You lean your head back and whine, forcing yourself not to cry out again as the knife drags down the side of your arm.

“Dave, are you sure we can’t be done with her yet?” Molly, the redhead, asks. When you lean your head up just a bit through blurry tears and blood from your hairline, you see the horrified looks of the others surrounding him. As horrified as they are, they’re still sickly enjoying it, which makes you even more terrified.

“No,” he coldly replies, “we’re not done until I say we’re done.” You earn another punch across the face, you spit out the blood in your mouth onto your lap, coughing as you catch your breath.

“You’ve- you’ve made your point,” you said roughly, your voice cracking as you say it. “Just end me for gods sake, man.”

“Heh,” he chuckles, “you’d like that, huh? A swift end to your suffering? Well that’s not gonna happen, bitch.” The knife glides across the flesh of your stomach, causing you to scream out in pain again.

The brunette speaks up this time, “I know you want her to suffer, but… Daisy didn’t suffer dude. You’ve gotten your revenge, let’s just end it and get out of here before she gets here.”

“I plan on her being here.”

The group stiffens in horror.

“WHAT?!” They all shout, immediately starting to panic.

“You’re shitting me man-”

“We’re gonna fucking die.”

“She’s probably already on her way here with their shit ton of guns!”

“You think she’s just gonna let this go? You fucking tore up her girlfriend, man!”

“Y/N here was just the start of it, I’m ending her tonight.” You start fighting against the ropes confining your legs and hands after he said that.

“Ohhhh!” He laughs loudly, “Did I say something that bothered you, sweetheart?”

“You’re not gonna fucking touch her!” You snarl, spitting blood in his face.

He wipes it off, leaning his hands on his knees as he gets real close to your face. “I don’t think you’re gonna do much from this position, girl. You’re gonna sit here and watch as Williams comes in here and attempts to save you..” he says condescendingly, “and you’re gonna see the life leave her eyes as I slit her throat.”

You glare menacingly at the man, yelling at him and fighting to rip out of your chair, but he ignores you, and so do the others as they leave your room. You yell for hours, but it weakens you, and eventually, you become too tired and succumb to black nothingness.

...

"This is it," Ellie says, looking back at Dina and Jesse.

"How do you know?" Jesse asks, walking up beside her.

"Because, I recognize the building. Let's go!" She snaps quietly, waving her hand for them to follow her. They trek sneakily through the grass right up against the side of the building, and Jesse watches behind them to make sure no one is following. Sneaking out of Jackson wasn't hard, but they're very aware their absence has probably already been noticed, especially since Ellie didn't exactly hide the fact this was her plan in the first place.

The three crouch even lower when they hear voices coming through the open window right above them. Dina, being in the middle, throws her hands over the other two so they don't pop up too early and get themselves caught.

"Cool it. Let's not make ourselves known until we've at least gotten her out of there, yeah?" Ellie grumbles and Jessie just nods. "Good. Now, the five that were with the girl are most likely in there, one of them the boyfriend, so they're gonna be on our asses ready to kill. Shoot if you have to, but remember, the goal is getting Y/N out, not killing everyone-"

"This isn't going to end until they're dead, Dina," Ellie says, "I'm gonna do whatever it takes, and if that means everyone in that building dies, so be it." Without warning, she throws her gun behind her on her back and pushes herself over the wall into the awaiting room of the building.

"Well, guess we're goin' then." Jessie mutters. Dina huffs in response but is quick to follow her inside, Jessie right behind her.

Once they enter the building, they're able to hear some of the voices more clearly. The room contains two doors, both completely open, so the chance of getting caught is slightly greater now. Ellie signals two coming from the right, and two coming from the left, so Dina and Jessie split to take each side. Ellie lets Jessie take the lead into the next room, and waits until Dina is out of sight to make her next move. Once she's in the room once over, she realizes how big this room is, and Jessie is already on the other side near the two men, watching them in case they hear Ellie. Neither of them are him.

To the left, there's a long, straight hallway with what seems to be cells, with all the bars and all. Right as she's about to uncover herself, a shot rings out through the building and women start screaming.

Dina.

The men look at each other quickly and take off for the door she just entered. Jessie springs up from his spot and starts shooting at them, hitting his mark as they both crumple to the ground with bullets in their legs.

"Go!" Jessie yells at Ellie, and she takes off for the hallway. She pushes so hard her legs feel like they're gonna give out, but she ignores it and grits her teeth, determined to find you. Hopefully unharmed.

But she knows better though. She killed his girlfriend. If it were the other way around, and he killed you, she wouldn't have let that bitch live for another minute. She forces it out of her mind when she catches a sliver of your hair as she nearly passes up your cell. Ellie suddenly halts, backing up to run to your door. She struggles with the lock for a moment, but she quickly takes her gun to repeatedly jam it into the lock so it breaks apart. Once she throws the door open, she's next to you in a second, softly placing her hands on your face so you lift your head.

She hears you grumble and she sighs with relief. You're not dead.

"Hey, baby, I'm here. Let's get you outta' here yeah?" She talks quietly, nearly a whisper so you barely hear her, but you feel her hands on your skin so you start squirming.

"No no no, stop, please-"

"It's Ellie. It's Ellie, baby, you're okay." Your eyes open slightly, and tears start to fall against your face. You whimper and slump forward once the ropes are off your wrists, not able to keep yourself up. You whisper her name and she nods, taking your arms to wrap them around her neck before she picks you up to cradle you against her chest. "Yeah, me. Ellie. I'm here now. You're gonna be okay."

Your face nudges her shoulder as you dig yourself deeper into her embrace, and once you're settled she turns and runs out of the cell with you now in her arms.

She makes it half way back down the hallway when she hears a click.

A gun click.

"Stop."

She closes her eyes shut and huffs out a breath, letting her head fall back towards the ceiling. Shit.

"Turn around."

As slowly as she can, she spins around to face him, making eye contact as soon as she lifts her gaze from the ground. Surprisingly, he's smirking.

"You're here. Finally." He forces a laugh, "What took you so long? Figured you'd be here hours ago."

Ellie ignores the comment and stays quiet, glaring at him menacingly.

"What, no excuse? Alright." He shakes his head, and starts shaking the gun in his hand, pointing it in her direction. "You know who I am, right?"

"I know who you are."

He smiles, throwing his hands up, "Good! Good, that's great. I'm glad." He huffs out another laugh, but it's cut short when he drops the facade and his face turns daunting. "You know my name?"

"Your name doesn't mean shit." Ellie says.

"Dave. You should know since... you should always be able to put a name to the face who's about to ruin your whole damn life." Ellie's face doesn't change, but she starts to worry. She doesn't know what she's gonna do with you if she has to fight. "I know your name, Ellie. I know... your name, where you live," he starts to count off his fingers, "who you love, who was here that night, I know everything about you."

"Aw, how sweet."

"Yeah, joke about it now. You're not gonna be laughing when I blow your brains out."

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Ellie lifts her chin, keeping her head high. "I know what I did, Dave. You should have taken me, this had nothing to do with her-"

"Oh, Ellie, but it did!" He interrupts. "It did because you wanna' know why? She's your girl. You took mine, I took yours. End of story."

Ellie grunts. "She was gonna kill someone who was important to me. It was either her or him."

"Blah, blah, blah, I don't care. Daisy was important to me, and you killed her."

"Daisy didn't suffer! You tortured her!" Ellie screamed.

"I suffered, Ellie. You would've done the same." He keeps his voice leveled. "We're the same you and I."

"Maybe. The only difference is that I'm gonna walk out of here alive and you're gonna be dead."

You don't see much of it. One minute you were in her arms and the next you were slumped against the wall watching her bang his head against the ground five times. At first she had the upper hand, but when she stopped, he threw his head back and slammed it hard on her nose. You heard her groan, you heard him scream, but your eyes were sort of blurry and it was so hard to lift your head.

You don't know how long you're there, it could have been a minute or an hour, but they don't stop, they never stop.

When you're able to see a little better, you see him pressing her body against the bars with an arm over her throat, choking her. She gasps for air and her hands are pushing his shoulders, but he doesn't give. You whimper on the ground as you try to move, but you just fall to your side on the floor.

"She's mine, now."

"Like hell." She sputters out. She shoves her thumbs up and into his eyes, digging her nails in causing him to scream in pain and let her go. She knees him in the crotch and watches him collapse to the floor. He groans, holding himself on the floor as Ellie towers over him.

He lifts his head to glare at her, but then he screams, "Just kill me!"

"Gladly." She whips out the gun from her belt behind her and shoots him point blank between the eyes. His head smacks the ground and his body twitches before it stops and lies motionless. Ellie stares at him for a second before her head snaps to you, lying on the ground in a crumpled sort of position and she runs to you, lifting your head to look at you properly.

"Baby, you there? You okay?"

Loud boots are heard stomping down the hallway and Ellie lifts her gun, prepared to shoot again before she realizes it's just Dina and Jessie. They come to a stop, breathing hard from their fight, but they still when they see you on the ground. Their eyes change from shock to horror, but Ellie doesn't pay attention.

"They all dead?" Ellie asks as she grabs you and cradles you in her arms again.

"Yeah..." Dina breathes, and Jessie nods. Even though you're leaning on Ellie's shoulder, you can still see them holding hands, and it makes you smile.

"Good. Let's go."

...

"It was reckless!"

"But she's here isn't she? We got her back!"

"You put her at risk-"

"She was already at risk, Joel! She was being tortured, it really couldn't have gotten much worse than that!"

"-and you three put your lives at risk, Ellie!-"

Their voices get louder and louder as you start to wake up and gain consciousness. You almost couldn't tell who it was at first when you began to slowly blink your eyes open, but as you listened to more and more of what they were arguing about, it was pretty clear who it was.

You feel the softness of a couch beneath you, and a pair of jeans rubbing against your ear. You already know it's Dina who has your head in her lap, the gentle rub on your arm giving it away. Without hinting to Dina that you're awake yet, you look around the room to see who's with you. You're in Tommy and Maria's living room; Tommy and Maria reside in the corner on a chair together, Jessie sits on the arm at the other end of the couch, and other than Dina, it's just Joel and Ellie that's left. They all look defeated and grave as they sit and listen to their argument, one that you're starting to comprehend.

You guess you were doing a bit too much shifting around because suddenly Dina's hand stops moving and her head comes into view.

"Guys, shut up, I think she's waking up!"

All of a sudden, all the attention in the room is on you, and you rub your eyes as you sit up, making it seem like you didn't just hear part of their conversation. Ellie's face lights up and she moves from across the room to kneel in front of you, helping you and Dina sit you up from your laid down position.

"Hi, baby, how you feelin'?" Ellie's soft voice is comforting to your ears, so different from how she sounded two seconds ago.

"Hi," you rasp, clearing your throat so you don't sound so hoarse, "I'm okay, I think. What time is it?"

"It's a little after 8 o'clock," she says, "do you want something to eat? Or do you want water?"

You nod your head, "I'll take some water."

"I'll get it for you." Jessie says, leaving the room to get you a glass. You look around and examine their faces, and the way they're looking at you starts to make you feel overwhelmed.

"What? You're looking at me like I'm a ghost or something." You chuckle halfheartedly to yourself, but none of them laugh with you. Ellie grips your hand, bringing your attention to her for a moment, and it's then that you notice how much emotion is being held in features as she stares at you. You can tell she wants to cry, but she holds it in her chest, shoving it down deep, so it doesn't bubble up in front of everyone. You grip back as hard as you can.

Nobody talks until Jessie gets back. He hands the glass of water to you with a gentle smile, rubbing your shoulder gently as he passes by and sits next to you on the couch. You awkwardly take small sips as they sit and stare, watching you, as if you're gonna fall or die on the spot or something. After about five minutes, you couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, is someone going to say something, or are we all just going to sit here and stare at me?"

Ellie hides her laugh a little bit, breaking the silence, and Joel gives her a look.

"You've been through a lot, why don't you go get some rest?" Joel suggests. You want to make a comment about his and Ellie's argument, but you hold back for now. That can be hashed out in the morning, for now, you'd rather go lay in bed with Ellie.

Just as you think about going home, you remember what happened there and what the house must still look like. There's no way Ellie even went back into the house after seeing it, much less to clean it, from what you can assume she probably left right away. You look at Ellie, and she's already speaking, and lending you a hand to stand up.

"We're gonna stay here tonight, Tommy and Maria offered us a room. Just so everyone can stay together." She gives you a tight-lipped smile, and you know as soon as you get to the bedroom and you're alone, she'll probably tell you more.

"No problem, I'd like that. Thank you guys."

"Of course, honey. Get some rest, we'll see you in the morning." Maria offers a kind smile. Then her, Tommy, and Joel leave the room and head to the kitchen where they start a small, quiet conversation with themselves.

"Thanks for... everything," You turn to Dina and Jessie, giving their hands a squeeze, "I don't really know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything, babe. You know we got you." Dina pulls you into a tight embrace, and Jessie follows suit, wrapping his lanky arms around the both of you.

"Yeah, you know we got your back. Even against crazy psycho cults." Jessie adds. Ellie and Dina give him the most point blank stare you've ever seen, and it makes you laugh, maybe a little too hard because you wince and hold your ribs.

"Stop, Jessie, you're making me laugh." He smiles, giving your head a rub and messing your hair up even more.

"Okay, let's go." Ellie grabs your hand and wraps her other arm around your waist as she leads you up the stairs, while you give Dina and Jessie one last smile. Once they're out of sight and you guys are up the stairs, you finally let yourself lean into Ellie and let her take your weight. You didn't realize how much pain you were in until now, but you think the shock of seeing everyone again all of a sudden must have just worn off. "I got you baby, we're almost there." Ellie says into your ear, giving you a kiss on the side of your head as you make it to the top of the stairs.

She sets you on the bed before going back to close the door, giving you a once over as soon as she's standing in front of you again. You offer your arms out, and she steps closer, letting your face fall into her stomach and your hands come up to wrap around her body. She feels your sigh of relief almost instantly, and it makes her cup your head and lean into you as close as she possibly can.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She whispers.

"For what?" You look up at her.

"I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you that morning-"

"Ellie, you were on patrol, you couldn't have known-"

"It was still too soon after everything that happened. I didn't want to leave you in the first place and I shouldn't have." She's shaking her head, eyes closed, and her hands in a fist with your shirt enclosed in them. You know no matter what you say, she won't listen to it, so you just rub her sides.

"You saved me, Els. I'm home because of you." She nods her head and glances down at you, cupping your cheeks.

"I would have never stopped until you were."

You nod back, "I know." You pull her down so your faces are level and kiss her, taking her by surprise. Of course, she returns the kiss, and it's so soft, so comforting, familiar and safe.

Ellie changes into sweats and a t-shirt quickly so she can help you get into your clothes, which is the exact same thing as she's wearing, and get you under the covers faster. Once you both are changed, she holds up the blankets so you can slide under, and once you're settled you let your head hit the pillow and close your eyes. You breathe deeply, calming your heart, and trying to force your mind to settle down. Ellie's arms snake around you, pulling you close to her chest.

"I'm never leaving you again."

You smile, and kiss right above her collarbone where your head is resting against her chest.

"I don't doubt it."

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Valentine Headcanons about (almost) every fictional character I love 💕 

happy Valentine’s Day to everyone! I hope you know you are appreciated and cared for! Here are some Headcanons on how my fictional crushes would spend Valentine’s Day 💓

featuring: Daiki aomine, Sasuke Uchiha, Takumi Fujiwara, Rindou Haitani, Jean Kirstein, Ryusui Nanami, Spike Spiegel, Hisashi Mistui, Matt Holt, Taehoon Seong, and Damian Wayne

Daiki Aomine:

He’s playing basketball 💀

You’re 100000% sure he forgot what today was because when you gave him a handmade lunch AND a net for catching bugs he just stares at it like “what is this for?”

So as you sadly sit on the bench watching him play

But then he falls idiot

You sigh and walk over to him. “You ok Daiki?”

He groans and kneels with a bracelet in his hand blushing

“H-happy Valentine’s Day…”

You’re speechless. Only for a short moment of course, you quickly begin laughing your ass off

“W-what’s so funny?! Damn Kise telling me to do dumb shit…”

“I love it Daiki! Where’d you get it?” 

“S-satski taught me…”

This man has the largest amount of pride but will always throw it aside for you!

Sasuke Uchiha:

You both would either stay home or be somewhere private 

You both have this secret spot in the woods that you guys have been going to ever since you were kids

So it’s no surprise on your 15th valentines together that’s where the two of you would be

With the little snacks and dinner entrees the both of you made to surprise each other and the nice lighting and river it was perfect

This is also the time he’s most vulnerable with you; kissing your hands, neck, cheek, arms, and of course your lips ;)

He whispers sweet things in your ear and tells you how he’s never loved like this and won’t with anyone else 

“You’re my everything (y/n). I look at you and see a future brighter than all the stars out tonight.”

It’s safe to say he only and will only ever love you

Takumi Fujiwara:

You’ve always went on Tofu runs when you could with Takumi, and it was no different for Valentine’s Day 

When he arrives at your house he’s standing there with a small bouquet 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” He asks you as he drives to the hotel

You shake your head. “It doesn’t really matter as long as I’m with you!”

He can’t help but smile

When he’s done with the deliveries he pulls into a parking lot in front of Lake Akina 

“Can w-we just sit here for a while then? I really just want to be with you.”

You smile at him and lean your head as close as you can to his shoulder. “I’d love that Takumi.”

Rindou Haitani:

Rindou takes you dancing

You both love to dance so it was a win

But of course after that he takes you home

You both cuddle on each other and watch random movies

Rindou has the finest liquor out and the sweetest chocolate and all your other favorite sweets 

He kisses up and down your shoulder as you sit in his lap holding one of his hands

“You’re mine (y/n). And you’re gonna be for my next valentine and the one after that…”

Jean Kirstein 

He cooks for you!

He makes you sit there patiently while he scrambles around creating the perfect meal

“Jean, i don’t mind helping you. I think it’ll be a lot easier if-“

“I got this (y/n)! Just sit there and look beautiful! Tell me about your day. You know I love to hear your voice.”

After he’s FINALLY done cooking, you dine together in the not so fancy living area, but the both of you don’t care

Jean did his best to clean up and set the sweet, loving tone and that’s all that matters to you.

“I love you (y/n). Thank you for making me so happy.”

Ryusui Nanami:

This man goes all out💀

As soon as you wake up it’s the most perfect breakfast in bed

He has to leave to work but literally leaves you his black card to treat yourself and constantly has people arriving with beautiful flowers every 5 minutes

He comes back for lunch and talks to you

“Has your valentines been well? I’ll make sure that you have the best day ev-“

“I really like all the things Ryusui really i do, but…I just really want to spend time with you…”

He pauses

Then calls in like it’s nothing!

The rest of the day is the two of  you lay in bed together and act all cutesy!

“I’m glad you’re my valentines dear. It’s been one amazing day.”

Spike Spiegel:

This broke man does his best I’ll give him that

He buys you flowers and takes you to a pretty nice restaurant. Nothing too fancy but it’s nicer than you normally go to

He lets you order first and gets him something small, which is weird for this man

You both talk for hours the waitstaff is so annoyed

After you two are FINALLY done you both walk back to the Bebop

“Why did you eat so little Spike? You’re normally chowing down!”

He chuckles and keeps walking, “wasn’t that hungry.”

“Come on spike, we’re practically married, I can tell when you’re lying!”

He sighs and mumbled something 

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure I had enough money for you to eat…”

You stop in your tracks

“Spike…”

You kiss him lovingly 

“Thank you Spike. I love you so much.”

He smiles, “ditto.”

Hisashi Mitsui

You’re probably his first valentines tbh

He waits at a cafe with flowers in his hand

When you show up he’s bright red. You’re not even wearing and saying anything spectacular he’s just so nervous lol

You sit next to each other and talk snack and laugh about everything and anything 

After the cafe you head to the park

And after that you go to little stores you see along the way

Mitsui buys you a stuffed animal you were looking at and you bought him a chain necklace he glanced at

It was a really great valentines, especially since it was first

“T-thanks for being my valentine (y/n). I’m glad i get to spend it with you.”

Matt Holt:

He makes this super cool heart shaped projector thing!

He hands you this heart 

It rises shifts into being a projector that displays all of your favorite memories together

It shows the new inductee dance and how the two of you jumping around without a care in the world

Then it shows a lazy night of the both of you “studying” for an exam as the camera zooms into Matt’s face and your giggles from behind the camera

And one of your favorite memories of all, your day at the beach together. Throwing water at each other, making sand castles, resting you head in his shoulder as the sun goes down 

“Matt…this is beautiful… I-I’m speechless…!”

“It’s alright.” He begins, “I know what you’re gonna say. I love you too.”

Taehoon Seong

Mans has no idea what to do

He acts like he doesn’t care as Hansu tries to give him ideas but really he’s terrified of messing something up

So when the day comes you hear a knock on the door you’re surprised to see a nicely dressed Taehoon with a rose in his hand

“Happy Valentine’s Day idiot.”

You smile and kiss his cheek. “Thank you Tae Tae!”

You Motion for him to come in

When he does there’s a nice breakfast for two in the dining room

“I know you don’t like to go out Tae, so I thought we could stay in for the day.”

Oh my gosh that sounds perfect

“Heh, I guess so. At least I’m with you.”

Damian Wayne:

Spoils you with acts of service 

As soon as you wake up you’re greeted with the smell of a nice breakfast in the dining room 

Then you sit in bed as he feeds you chocolate cover strawberries, watching silly movies and drawing pictures for each other 

At the end of the day he prepares a bath for the both of you

You wash each other not like that weirdos and you even blow some bubbles at him

When it’s finally time to sleep he massages your back and whispers about how much he loves you 

Then of course you fall asleep on his chest as he holds you

“Goodnight beloved. I hope you understand how much I love you.”

[hardlyinteresting]

A good day's work

Day 10 of the #MarchHotchness event. Find the other days HERE Thank you to @hotchfiles for creating this event 💕

As always Request here! | Masterlist

Your paint-splattered clothes lay scattered on the en suite floor: white and pale blue, smudges and speckles of colour tint your old t-shirts and jeans. A breeze runs through the house, bringing in the cool evening air, and the sound of cricket chirps. It carries away the smell of freshly coloured walls. 

A rare day off left you and Aaron free to stop by the local hardware store. What was supposed to be a short trip to pick up lightbulbs ended two hours later in the paint department, carding through colour chips, determined to find the perfect shade. 

The desire to repaint the master bedroom had been a topic of conversation since the day you moved in together. The pale beige walls were drab and dreary in the space. With the bedside lamps on at night, the colour glowed with a yellow undertone that left the room anything but relaxing. After long days, and nights away from his family, Aaron deserves a place to unwind and destress. 

You had considered grey for the room. Aaron said the shade reminded him of the concrete in his office. You immediately vetoed the colour. 

Green felt too upbeat. Positive, and inviting? Yes. Tranquil? No. Purple had been too bold for Aaron’s taste. The shade you’d selected was muted, and warm like a hug, but ultimately too much of a deviation for his taste. 

The bedroom looks beautiful in blue. Ataratic, and soothing. In the daylight, it felt as warm as the open sky outside. You both breathe deeper into the space, exhaling a great deal of your stress and anxieties. By the time you’re completing the second coat, the orange gleam of the setting sun casts a brilliant reflection on the wall, it envelopes you and leaves you beaming. 

The blue handprint he leaves on your hip draws your attention back to the blot of paint you had dabbed on his nose earlier in the day, and the flecks of colour that have dried on your arms. It’s a good reason to pull him into the ensuite shower. Dutifully, he washes away smears of blue from your cheek, and then the rest of you. He watches the pigment dilute itself, melting away with the soap suds. He can’t say for certain, but he thinks that this might be what peace feels like. 

The bed is still in the middle of the room, pulled away from the stilling drying walls. Unsure how to enjoy the sense of amusement, or child-like satisfaction the vaguely chaotic sight brings him, he chuckles. It’s more exhaled air, than any real kind of sound, but it’s enough to convey his joy.  The half-huff leaves you bubbling with your own laughter. You’re both safe to do that here. 

In the soft moonlight, the room is no brighter than the endless night sky. The depth of the shade soothes you, it wraps you up and holds you, not unlike the arm he drapes across your waist. Falling asleep comes easily and with no complaints. A good day’s work deserves a good night’s sleep.

[music-orthemisery]

Saw this photo floating around and it is…SENDING ME. In multiple ways. So I’m going to ramble.

Ok first off - this is like, quintessential mid-00s teen heart throb photo shoot. Literally erase Pete’s tattoos and photoshop on a head of any popular male celebrity at the time and it would honestly work. This was The Template.

I think it’s easy to either forget (or just not realize) how TRULY big the FOB/“emo” hype train was back then. Cosmo Girl, Tiger Beat, and countless other magazines that solely focused on HUGE celebrities like Beyonce and Justin Timberlake and Lindsay Lohan were suddenly putting FOB, MCR, and Panic on their covers (although, let’s be real, usually just one or two members - i.e. Pete, Gerard, Brendon, Ryan).

There are…slightly less boundaries now with stuff like this because of the saturation of social media making “normal people” famous, but, back then, that was almost unheard of. You’d only see pictures of these bands in like, ALT Press or Kerrang. For them to get lumped into the same category as these A listers was absolutely bonkers.

So to see this picture of Pete…it kinda makes me laugh tbh, but it also makes me sad. Because that didn’t…FIT him. It looks ridiculous. It’s not an authentic picture of him- it’s him being placed into a mold. Him accepting “The Template” because that’s where he was expected to go. Which makes it…not at all surprising that he was only able to keep that up for so long before it fell apart.

It reminds me of that part in the Zane Lowe interview where they’re talking about this time of their career. Like, just go watch from min 35-42 because it’s fantastic but some highlights:

Zane acknowledging how easy it is to fall down the rabbit hole, especially when you’re thrust into it so quickly - it’s not really a choice. Patrick seconds this later by saying that once that fame light is on, it’s on, and you don’t really have a way to turn it off

Pete acknowledging how it kept him from being a “real person,” how little he liked it, and how much he had to grow during the hiatus to get away from that

Patrick saying how you really can’t win - you either accept the attention and you’re hated for it or you reject the attention and you’re hated for it. And this was ESPECIALLY true then. The media is still brutal but it was absolutely HORRENDOUS at that time. You really had to be “on” 24/7 and that’s…impossible.

Talking about how that level of fame creates a wall around you that is not only difficult for others to penetrate, but also yourself. And if Pete can’t access himself, he can’t access what he can give Patrick to create around, which then makes everything crumble like a house of cards.

I give FOB so much credit for realizing that, if they didn’t take a break, they would’ve ended VERY poorly and likely forever. Look how a lot of careers ended from that time. Either not well or a fade into irrelevance because of just trying to “keep up” and failing. Because, at that point, you’ve lost a lot of your “real person-ness” and, if you’ve lost that, what authenticity can you bring to your work? And if you’re BUILT on authenticity (which FOB is), then what is there to put out that is meaningful and relevant to your art?

Part of FOB’s magic has always been their authenticity and that they really are just “some guys.” That is what has allowed them to be so innovative and grow as artists and as people because there is a constant striving to push themselves and still remain grounded in who they are at their core. Pre-h, they didn’t know how to do that yet, and it was hell.

Pictures like this honestly just remind me of how deep in the hole the pressures of fame at that time did to not only them as a band, but Pete himself. Like, look at this picture. Does he look…genuine? Happy? Does this look like the Pete Wentz you know and love? Of course it may on the surface, but if you really look at it…to me it looks more like a caricature. The clothes, the pose, the styled hair and eyeliner…it just looks off. It’s Pete Wentz through a lens meant to appeal to the masses.

These lyrics from So Good Right Now feel extremely relevant to this time:

I am endlessly grateful that…regardless of the other reasons and intense drama around it…they recognized that need to step back from…all of this. That they didn’t let themselves just get covered by the weeds. Chewed up and spit back out like so many others. And so many years later we are still getting incredible, meaningful music from them. Like, it truly just keeps getting better. You can’t say that about…A LOT of people/bands who have been making music for this long.

I think I’ll end this here for now. LOL at a thirst pic of Pete Wentz making me wax poetic….

[thatsthat24]

Sanderstober 2022

Upon request (and because you're all amazing at them), I have a NEW Sanderstober art prompt list for you this year! Feel free to do one, some, or all of these prompts for October! Take em in any order you feel & use the hashtag #Sanderstober2022 if you’d like me to see your creations! Hope you all have fun with these if you take em on!! 🎨 

Day 1: Starting out with a traditional classic, take a character from media or OC and draw how they look on September 30th vs. how they look on October 1st. 

Day 2: Time to shine the light on the articles of clothing we all love to bust out in the fall, by CHOOSING one of those items and making a monster based on it!

Day 3: It is announced, beyond all reason, that they’re going to add a NEW suit to the deck of cards, in addition to hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades. Disregarding how much this would destroy the structure of most card games, what is this new suit called and what does it look like??

Day 4: Centaurs are half-man, half-horse. Draw another kind of fantastical creature, that’s half-man, half ANOTHER kind of animal! - Idea from Dominic!

Day 5: Take a typical children’s nursery rhyme… and create a thriller poster based off of it…

Day 6: Design Challenge - create a stylish look (clothes, makeup, whatever you like) based off a candy of your choice!

Day 7: There’s a Pokemon based off almost everything. But not everything. Take a random object, animal, etc. that a Pokemon hasn’t been based off yet… and create one, complete with a corresponding name!

Day 8: Take any piece of Western animation and re-imagine it in anime form. - Inspired by an idea from Dominic!

Day 9: Take any traditional Halloween monster and think about what TikTok challenge they probably would take on. Doesn’t even have to be a real one! 

Day 10: A dabbling in minimalism. Take one or several characters from one of your favorite pieces of media, and try to depict them using only simplistic shapes. See if you can get people to guess the characters or show/movie/video game from the shapes and color schemes. 

Day 11: Always a fave prompt of mine - depict a pleasant fall-related memory of yours using solely fall-related colors (red, orange, yellow, brown, etc.)

Day 12: What if Halloween took place at another time of the year than Fall?? How might the holiday look different? Are there any traditions that might change? Any imagery? Any houses decorated differently??? Depict any aspect of the holiday that may look different!

Day 13: Another fave of mine - Take ANY Disney character and depict what they might look like as a superpowered individual in the Marvel universe.

Day 14: It happened again. This time, they announced a NEW chess piece that would be added to the game of chess. Why are they doing this?? Once again, disregarding how much of a wrench this throws into the gameplay of chess, WHAT does this new piece look like? What is it called? And how does it move on the board? 

Day 15: Re-imagine any Halloween monster or thriller movie baddie… as a character in a fantasy world…

Day 16: Using just inspiration from items found in your kitchen, use them to create a flag for a new country - Idea from Tammy!

Day 17: Draw a dynamic duo in a dynamic couples costume (Jessie & James from Pokémon as the front and back half of a horse, etc) - Idea from Cambria!

Day 18: My first prompt where I can take Inspo from Our Flag Means Death! Take any character from pop culture who isn’t a pirate… and design what they might look like in a pirate universe. Basically… pirate-ify them.

Day 19: Taking inspiration from the Haunted Mansion paintings, where the top of the painting looks pleasant only to then pan down to show the situation is much more grim (give it a Google if you need a reference!), create your own version of one of those paintings! - Another idea from Cambria

Day 20: The return of a classic… take any character(s) from a piece of media and depict them in the style of a Tim Burton character. (Sorry, I just love what you all create with this prompt!)

Day 21: Take any social media app… and turn it into a person.

Day 22: Take any Halloween-esque or Fall-based item/imagery and depict it in the iconic style of a famous painter!

Day 23: Oh my god, they’re doing it again!! Out of the blue, Hasbro announces that Clue will now be adding a NEW guest to the game of Clue who will be joining all the other color-based guests. Why does this keep happening?? Please create this guest and what their colorful name shall be!

Day 24: Take a loved pet from any point in your life, and turn them into a MONSTER.

Day 25: Take one of the characters from our videos (or a character from another piece of your fave media if you prefer!) and draw them with an animal that you think matches them perfectly! - Idea from Cambria!

Day 26: I’m such a sucker for this prompt: Depict characters from one of your fave animated shows in the STYLE of another animated series

Day 27: Since this would probably make Remus happy… if it makes you comfortable, draw a nightmare you remember having in your life, and instead of it happening to you, depict it happening to Remus

Day 28: Since we did the opposite prompt earlier… take a superhero and depict who they’d be in any fairytale you think suits them…

Day 29: Take any Halloween/ Scary movie monster and draw a suit/dress/suitdress inspired by their style and color palette!

Day 30: At long last, it’s revealed, the reason behind ALL THESE ADDITIONS to traditional games (the fifth card suit, the new chess piece, the additional Clue guest) was ONE NEW EVIL MASTERMIND! Based on your past creations for Day 3, Day 14, and Day 23, draw what this mastermind looks like and give them a name!!!

Day 31: In typical end-of-the-month fashion, today’s prompt is all about celebrating the reason for the season, Halloween! This year, Halloween’s PR team wants you to come up with a new catchphrase/slogan for Halloween! Please create a Halloween sign/poster with the new phrase featured!! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

[rqsser]

for yet another au created by @pinksiames and i…

—

“Please, Bucky?” Gale begs from where he sits on his bed. John is sat on the floor opposite to him, leaning against his wardrobe with a book that definitely is not reading.

Gale is asking his boyfriend to go out with him to do whatever, run any errands that a seventeen year old might have or go and play laser tag. Typical teenage activities. He just needs to get out of the house; he hates sitting in his room and doing nothing.

See, John doesn’t exactly enjoy being in public places where he’ll be spoken to by strangers. Even if Gale doesn’t necessarily talk to anyone but John, it’s not his favourite thing to do. Curt invites Gale out to a party, and then John is pleaded to go with him. It’s not as if Gale has no other friends, he just really prefers his boyfriend to anyone else. Which is mainly the reason John agrees to go, but even that’s rare.

Right now, Gale is in an old, beaten tank top and plaid pyjama pants. He looks rather childish with his bare feet swinging in the air and his hair sticking up every which way. His habit of staying out till late hours and dancing wildly shows with the muscular curves of his biceps. His eye makeup is smeared down his cheeks and mostly gone from bordering his eyes, he looks like he just woke up. John thinks that his heart may explode.

He himself arrived at Gale’s house when he was still asleep. For once, the blonde hadn’t tired himself out at someone’s party and stayed in for the night. John knows because the two of them were calling all night. So he’s dressed, partially. He’s also in pyjama pants, but is wearing Gale’s hoodie that he’d left at John’s last time he was over. It fit him quite well by some miracle.

“I am not going out with you, Gale,” John repeats for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’ll go out and have a nice dinner, sure, but not to some stupid party that you won’t remember come tomorrow morning.”

Gale whines and lets his head fall back, like a child. “But it’s more fun when you’re there! What if some guy hits on me and I have no proof of boyfriend?” Gale challenges him, enticing John with the chance of flaunting his Gale.

John glares at him. It’s a low blow to feed into his issues with jealousy and possession.

“Gale…” John starts, but Gale is already up off of his bed and rummaging through the pile of clothes he has on his desk chair. Of course he won’t take no for an answer, especially on the weekend when he doesn’t have to worry about waking up for school.

He thinks that it’s on purpose, when Gale finds his tightest shirt that ends barely at his hip bones. When he puts on his jeans that make his ass look amazing. John watches from the floor, coming to terms with his fate of fighting off horny teenagers who want a piece of Gale. He doesn’t blame them for wanting, though.

It’s like a ritual witnessing Gale Cleven getting ready for the day, colour matching his outfit and checking what looks good with what. John doesn’t understand fully, he just throws on the first thing he sees and at least checks to see if he looks stupid or not. Gale though, he spends minutes carefully lining black eyeliner around each beautiful eye and sometimes even puts on some lipgloss. Though that’s usually when John is promised a good night.

John stands with a groan and shucks off his pyjama pants in favour of something he left here from last time. Which happens to be an old pair of basketball shorts. He thinks he looks okay, compared to Gale he looks like shit.

“So hot,” Gale whispers in his ear as he looks at them both in his floor length mirror. John rolls his eyes and cards his fingers through his own curls.

“Says you.” He tugs on Gale’s dyed-black locks and snickers at the low noise that he gets out of it. Time to go and fight off guys who try to sneak a hand up his boyfriend’s ridiculously tight shirt.

[gretavanlace]

Silent Night

Jake Kiszka x Reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, toys, language, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, masturbation, etc

First, I don’t know who edited this pic of Jake, but I am forever in your debt. Let me know if you need a kidney or something. Second, I realize this is late and Christmas is over, but I trust you’ll forgive me. Xoxo

UPDATE: @dancingtopurplerain created this lovely edit of Christmas Jake! Please show her some love for sharing her talents with us!

Your finger is pressed flat against the gift box, holding a fold of wrapping paper in place - Where the hell is the tape? - when you feel the electric spark of his gaze clocking you.

Eyes lifting in exasperation, you find him leaned against the archway, eyeing you as you wrap a gift for his brother. Why do you alway get stuck with the holiday heavy lifting? If things were left up to him, everyone would get a gift card and a shot of single malt whiskey for Christmas.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks, with a strange smile playing at the corners of his plush lips.

“Wrapping a sweater for Sam.” Your tone is snarky, but you can't seem to lose the edge. “You know, the sweater that I shopped for? The one I picked out and am now wrapping. Why do I always get stuck playing Santa?”

He shrugs, arms crossed casually. “I guess you just give more of a shit.”

“Why are you so smug?” You abandon the present and lean back in your chair at the dining room table. “I know you haven’t found your gifts, I hid them extra well this year.”

He’s spoiled, and slightly bratty at times. Every year, just like a child, he’ll scour the house top to bottom in search of his Christmas treasure…far too impatient to wait until December 25th.

Josh, on the other hand, loved the exhilaration in his youth. He lived for the early morning rush of flying ribbons and bows. So, true to brotherly form, Jake would hunt for his twin’s loot as well, and threaten to spoil the surprise if Josh didn’t do his chores in exchange for silence.

“No,” his smirk widens. “Haven’t found my gifts. I searched though. I think someone has gotten very good at hiding things from me.”

You nod dismissively, “Okay then, if you’re all finished up with being a failure of a snoop, why don’t you help me wrap some of these?”

His stare lingers on your face “Seems to me like you have everything under control. In fact, it seems to me like you’re very well-versed in taking care of things yourself.”

At last, you locate the tape and fasten the cheerful paper in place, paying him little attention in your annoyance. “Yes, yes. I’m very self-sufficient, Jacob. Thank you for noticing. However, it would be nice if you…”

You fall silent and unsure, noting his curious expression. He looks like he’s hoarding a very salacious secret. His eyes carry the air of indecency you’ve come to know so well.

He looks arrogant and victorious. Almost hauntingly so. His gears are turning deviously, that much is clear. He’s engaged in a constant game that no one else seems to be in on, and something has played well into his hand.

“You look pleased with yourself.” You offer quietly, treading lightly.

He simply carries on watching you as if he can read your thoughts; like he’s figuring you out. A puzzle he’s fitting together piece by piece.

He’s enjoying your unease, while fighting a tiny smirk.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, inexplicably nervous. “What?”

“These can wait.” He gestures at the gifts scattered about and holds a hand out to you.

Unsure, you eye him. Watchful, as though he’s a breathtaking snake that could strike out and sink its teeth into your flesh without warning, poisoning you with the sweetest of venom.

“Why so shy, Christmas elf?” He rasps, leaning forward to meet your line of sight. “Afraid you’ve landed yourself on the naughty list?”

His tone, cashmere soft and gentle, sends a tickling shiver up the nape of your neck. “Maybe.”

He tilts his head in contemplation. “Maybe? What have you done?”

Silently, you watch him watch you. A heated stand-off choked with something you’re unable to place…though you like it all the same.

He breaks the tension by snapping his fingers. “I’ve waited long enough. Up you go.”

Rising to your feet without question - how does he do that? - you allow him to take your hand in his, following blindly as he leads you towards the stairs.

“I really did look for my presents, you know…” he explains as if making mundane conversation, climbing the stairs slowly with you in tow. “Didn’t find them.”

“Perhaps I got tired of your impatience and didn’t shop for you this year.” You suggest.

“Perhaps.” He squeezes your hand, leading the way up to the landing. “You’re very mysterious, aren’t you? My pretty little dark horse.”

He nudges the bedroom door open with the tip of his boot, “I said I didn’t find my gifts, but I never said I came up completely empty handed.”

Your eyes land on the tiny bag waiting at the foot of the bed. It looks innocuous; just a simple oversized makeup bag. Powder blue. Innocent. But you know better, and you can guarantee he does too.

He’s taking in your reaction with barely contained glee. With you, quite obviously, giving him the show he’d so hoped for.

“It looks like you recognize this…” he ambles over and hooks a finger through the handle, dangling it on display. “But that can’t be right because…” he sighs and drops it back down against the duvet, “I know what’s in this bag. And my angel would never…”

His eyes are burning into yours as your face flushes with the pounding heat of shame. Your fingers caught in the cookie jar.

“Isn’t that what you said?” He grasps the zipper pull, easing it open at an excruciatingly slow clip. “You told me that you don’t touch yourself when I’m away. No matter how long I’m gone. No matter how many times I’ve asked, begged, to listen to you with my cock in my hand.”

“Jake…”

He silences you by upturning the bag, spilling toys out like evidence in a courtroom. “I wonder where these came from, then?” He asks conversationally. “Do you think someone might have broken in and left them? Seems like a strange thing to do, but you never know these days.”

“Jake.” You repeat, at a loss for much else.

“What?” He feigns concern. “Maybe we should call someone…safety first. Unless…” he shakes his head as if an idea has just occurred to him, but he thinks it’s outlandish.

You wait quietly. If you’ve learned anything over the years it's to let Jacob have his fun, because he’s going to have it regardless. He won’t be denied.

“Unless…” he steps forward and tilts your face up by your chin. “Do you know something about this? Have you been lying to me? That’s not very nice at all, now is it, pretty girl?”

“I…” you stammer unsteadily. This is ridiculous. You’re a grown woman, confident and in love with the devil of a man standing before you, who is clearly very into this���but there’s that unwelcome voice in the back of your mind. A wretched-shrew version of yourself barking about how good girls don’t indulge, and if they do, they certainly don’t talk about it.

“Oh, poor little love…” he mocks teasingly. “I think you do know something about this, don’t you? Your cheeks are as pink as your sweet cunt. Are these yours, baby? C’mon,” he snatches up a cutesy purple vibrator and taps the tip of your nose with it. “You can tell me.”

A bashful nod is all you can manage, but he’s off and running with the small concession.

He begins sifting through the bounty, eyes alight like a kid in a candy store. “Even this one?” He is brandishing a dildo, wobbling it around obscenely. “Do you slide this inside when you're all alone? When there’s no one around to hear all those dirty little sounds you make?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. He is absolutely vulgar, and you’re embarrassed beyond description, but that somehow makes this even hotter.

“Yeah?” He traces your tightened nipples through your shirt with the head of the silicone cock his fist is closed around. “You lie in our bed and make yourself cum and leave me out when all I want to do is listen? I’d call you cruel if I didn’t know better.”

“I just...” Your voice is small, but breathy with want. Invisible fingers of desire are reaching out for him, but still, you long to turn back the hands of time. To hide them wisely. Or better still, to not have been so damn squeamish about it and showed him yourself. You picture the shock that would have flickered to life in his eyes.

“You just what?” He coaxes with gentle authority.

“I just can’t. Not with you watching, or even listening.” The confession tumbles forth, melting into one rushed word.

Clicking his tongue as though it’s a shame, he creeps the toy up to glide over your throat. “Angel’s just as pure as the driven snow until no one’s around to enjoy the show, is that it?”

He has clouded your brain right up, every thought blurred and faded around the edges like you’re stumbling through a lucid dream.

“Since you’ve grown so quiet, I suppose I’ll do the talking for you.” Smooth silicone is now sweeping across your lips. “You like that anyway, don’t you pretty girl? When I talk to you? Lick.”

You nod, curl your tongue pensively, and wonder if he’s rendered you speechless for good this time.

“Yeah,” he leans in close and pecks a chaste kiss upon your cheek. “I know you do. Now be a good girl and go get comfy on the bed.”

There is hesitation on your part, and he isn’t a fan. “I’d behave myself if I were you, little girl. Santa’s watching.”

“I could say the same to you.” There, you’ve found your voice after all.

“It’s hurtful that you seem to know so little of me,” he shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I don’t have to do anything to get my way. On your knees.”

Sinking to the floor instantly, you watch him through the fan of your lashes, trying to map out his next move. What you don’t anticipate, is the warm laugh that shakes his shoulders.

“Look at my sweetheart, so pretty at my feet, proving my point.”

You’d hate him if you didn’t love him so fucking much.

“Come on,” he helps you up with a wink as you scowl at him. “Off you go. On the bed. And get rid of all that,” he waves a hand at your cozy pjs. “You won’t be needing those for what I have planned.”

“And what exactly do you have planned?” You question, feeling warm under the spotlight of his carnal scrutiny.

He watches you unbutton your pajama top with a nod of silent praise when it falls to the floor- a puddle of red flannel at your feet.

“What do I have planned?” He kicks your question back conversationally “Oh, a little of this, a little of that.”

Your pajama bottoms are next to go, and with small triumph, you note the quiet growl that rumbles in the back of his throat. “Where are your panties, pretty girl?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You tease. It’s unwise, he unmistakably has a firm grip on the upper hand here, but you can’t help yourself.

“No, truth be told, I wouldn’t like to know.” He shrugs. “I’d like to burn them all. It ought to be a crime to hide that beautiful cunt away. Lie down on the bed.”

You make a move to tug your socks off first, they’re of green stripes and rosy-cheeked elves smiling warmly…but he stops you with a sound of disapproval. “Let’s leave them on. A bit of wholesomeness is always nice. Makes me feel like I’m corrupting the innocent.”

Stretching out across the bed, fully on display for him, you preen prettily. “That’s exactly what you’re doing, Jake.”

“Innocent?” His brow frowns and tilts up in feigned confusion…it reminds you of the pained, slightly submissive expression he wears just before he’s about to cum. “You’re far from chaste, pretty girl…and your secret bag of tricks only proves what I’ve always known.”

“And what’s that?” You let your knees fall apart and his hungry stare hones in as if you're a beacon in the night.

“That you’re fucking filthy. A dirty little plaything all for me. You’re my whore, aren’t you baby?” His words are slow, and thick, famished with need. “Say it. Tell me what you are.”

“I’m your whore, Jake.” Your voice quivers with a level of desire that rivals his own.

He saunters over and begins sifting through your toys. “Do you have a favorite, baby?”

You shake your head. That technically isn’t lying, right? You haven’t actually spoken the untruths aloud.

He sees straight through you as easily as he would were you made of glass. “That’s not true…” he sing-songs mockingly. “Is it this one?” He holds up a shiny, chrome-finish bullet, but only for a second; he knows that isn’t the prize in which he seeks.

“Maybe this is our winner…” he inspects a party of a tiny toy…undeniably fun, but far from a favorite, and then tosses it aside as well.

He observes you, lingering on your face, calling forth everything he’s ever known about you as though preparing for a not safe for work pop quiz. “You know, my girl is a classic. Traditional. Reminds me of old money. I think…” he scans the toys, running thoughtful fingers over them as smoothly as he caresses the neck of his Gibson. “Yes, back to basics.”

He wraps his finger around an understated dildo, complete with raised veins and ridges. Absorbing your reaction, he nods cockily. “I know my girl, don’t I?”

The heat has risen to your cheeks again, your very body a betrayal to your inner thoughts. Desperate to play the game, you work hard to maintain eye contact, but find yourself staring over his shoulder anyway.

“I love it best when you stare directly at me,” he soothes like a spoken lullaby. “But, I’ll let you hide just a bit longer, my shy little girl.”

Your chin tilts upward in defiance you can’t help. “I’m not shy, just private…and you just have to be included in everything or you get fussy.”

“Fussy?” He asks with a humorless huff. “I’m not sure I’m in love with that description.”

“I doubt you are.” You challenge, scrambling to find your footing before he’s got you helpless and pleading.

“I’m bored with this.” He sighs, brandishing the toy that, without saying a word, you’ve told him was teacher’s pet. “Here you go sweetheart, you get to love on my competition tonight.”

Competition? It’s laughable. Nothing could ever compare to Jake. He’s in an elevated class all alone. It’s also laughable that he’s deemed you confident enough to do this in front of him. Not with him, which would have been an immeasurable task itself, but for him. In front of him. While he sits on the sidelines and sips at the IPA he’s grabbed off the dresser and is now casually nursing from the chair off-set the bed.

Legs still spread in invitation, you clutch the pliable plastic as if it’s a lifeline rather than the very source of your inhibition.

“So, this is what you’ve been denying me?” He stretches his legs out before him and settles in, eagle-eyeing you as one might a starlet on a stage bathed in beautifully flattering lights. “C’mon, pretty girl…show me.”

“Come lie down with me.” You pout softly, playing into his affinity for coddling you. If he’s beside you, you can touch him as well, leaving you less ‘under the microscope’.

“And give up this view?” His grin is slow and sly. “No, thank you. You look gorgeous from here. So wet. You’re glistening, you know…twinkling like lights on a tree.”

“Yeah?” You’re practically purring…he makes you feel pretty everywhere.

“Yeah.” He leans forward, eyes locked between your legs. “Next year, you’re the holiday theme. I’m going to hang ornaments from every branch of the fullest, tallest tree I can find. Each one pink, to match your lovely velvet cunt. An angel on top instead of a star, because that’s what you are. You’re my angel. Aren’t you, baby?”

Your grip, still ironclad, tightens further around the toy. Your legs, long to squeeze together…the pressure would be such a welcomed relief, you writhe subtly, “Yes, I’m your angel, and you’re mine. You’re the most beautiful angel of all.”

“The most beautiful of all?” His query is teasingly unsure as he pretends to think this one through. “No, pretty girl, I refuse to rob you of your title. Now do as you’re told and slip it inside that snug little pussy for me. Make yourself feel good.”

Timidly, you reach down, easing it in slowly. You get as far as the tip before your nerves break out the big guns to win the battle.

“None of that, baby.” He gently scolds. “Show me how you fix it when I’m not around to make that needy cunt cry.”

He watches on as you draw a centering breath and plunge the cock inside so deeply there’s nothing left to take. How you wish it was his. Warmer, thicker, those blissful throbs and twitches that set your heart beating as rapidly as a flitting hummingbird’s.

“That’s it,” he groans, a barely there tremor in his voice betraying his calm facade. “That’s my good girl. How often, pretty girl? Do you snuggle in every night while I’m away and treat yourself real sweet while you picture all the things I do to you in the dark?”

You nod with a soft whine as you begin moving the toy in and out delicately. It isn’t every night, but for the sake of the moment, a teensy exaggeration is more than warranted.

“I wish you’d told me sooner.” He’s palming his cock absently through his jeans. “Because I’ve thought about it so many times. Do you fill this lonely house with all of those beautiful noises you make? Those pouty uh uh uh’s that float out of you every time I push in deep and grind against your clit?”

You shake your head, losing yourself little by little as the tension begins winding up low in your belly, growing white hot as you listen to him mimic the way you sound when you’re lost in it.

“No?” He sounds inquisitive, and incredibly turned on.

It spurs you on, and you begin fucking yourself a little faster, the balls of your feet sinking down into the bed for the leverage you need to properly rock your hips.

“Why not?” You catch the hum of his zipper splitting open, and then the sight of his perfect cock being tugged free, hard and slick at the tip.

“The neighbors.” You pant through quivering whimpers and shaky hitches of breath. “They know when you’re gone. So if they heard me, they’d know that…”

He cuts you off, “They’d know you were in our bedroom with your little bag of tricks fucking yourself to sleep without me?”

A cry, anguished and fevered, claws its way out of your chest, and he’s on his feet in a blink, crawling over you on the bed, neglected cock in hand. “Ah ah ah,” he hushes into your ear, hovering just out of reach. “I want the real deal, baby. Exactly the way it is when it’s only you and these four walls. So be quiet as a whisper…what if they hear you?”

Muffled gasps choke out of you, strangled and ragged in your taught windpipe. “Yeah, listen to you…” he mocks, the equivalent of pulling your pigtail on the playground.

“Why do you worry about them anyway? They already know. They hear you in here begging for awful, unspeakable things. Desperate and pleading for my cock deeper, and faster, and harder until our headboard rattles the pictures on their walls.”

“Fuck, Jake…” your back arches away from the sheets, you need to be closer to him the closer you get. And you’re so close. So fucking close.

“Yeah?” The word lilts up at the end tauntingly. “You like that? I just know they fuck to us. I just know they listen to you with all your candy sweet moans until they can’t take it anymore.”

The very idea…Jake’s belief that you sound sexy enough that even strangers get off on it, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his fist as he strokes his aching cock, sends you toppling over the razor's edge you’ve been skating along.

A sob of finality bursts from you, shattering the peace, but his palm is quick to silence you. “Quiet, pretty girl. Remember? Not a sound.”

You’re cumming so hard, fucking yourself frantically through it as you spill, hot and wet, all over your hand and down your wrist, soaking your thighs and the sheets.

It’s your eyes that finally do him in. The way they burn into his own just before rolling back in your head blissfully…he releases against your stomach, warm and delicious, like something you might lick greedily from the spoon while baking Christmas cookies.

You did so well, hardly made a sound at all…but the rules don’t seem to apply to him, and the room fills up, thick and heady, with his shuddering groans and obscene curses as he works himself through it.

Soon, you’re both working to chase down your breath, having cleaned up with the threadbare shirt he yanked over his head afterward.

It’s calm and dreamlike, with your head on his chest, counting the beats of his heart, until he twists his body around to grab his phone from its resting place on the nightstand.

“What’re you doing?” You sigh at the unwelcome, momentary parting.

“I think I’ll order some party favors.” The lazy excitement is more than evident in his tone. “You’re gonna need a bigger bag.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @gardenofgreta @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @joshkiszkas @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelight-fanfic @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Lazy Sunday

Chapter 14 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: I know it’s been a while since I’ve written a chapter, but I really wanted some time to figure out where to go with these two idiots

The holidays pass, leaving only the bleak, gray winter beyond. You’re lucky that this year you have wonderful friends to keep you occupied, to make sure you don’t retreat in on yourself until the world starts to thaw. You have movie nights and go out for pizza and spend days driving around the city, stopping whenever you feel like it.

It’s been almost a year since you’ve become friends with everyone, and yet it’s felt like this has been your whole life. It’s hard to remember a time when you didn’t have such an amazing support system behind you, people to help you when you fall and celebrate when you stay standing.

They make the freezing temperatures feel like summer, just having them nearby seems to warm you up. Whenever you work a shift with Rose and the sun doesn’t come up until you’ve been at Maz’s for three hours, you barely notice because of how hard she makes you laugh and how easy it is to work with her.

You and Finn have made it a New Year’s resolution to bother each other at work as much as possible, so you find yourself at The Resistance for an hour or two a few nights a week, just sitting and chatting with Finn and Poe while they work.

It seemed as if you’re with Poe more often than anyone else though. The two of you went out and explored the indoor offerings of your city and the surrounding areas, sometimes taking walks together through the winter landscape if it wasn’t unbearably cold.

Other nights, you cooked together or brought takeout to one of your apartments, watching a movie or some sort of TV show together. It didn’t matter what you were doing, just that you were together. At first, you’d been worried you’d end up confessing your true feelings, but the more time you spent together, the less you felt like you’d spill your guts at any moment.

The rest of your friends noticed how often the two of you were together, and it seemed like they made it their mission to tease you as often as possible.

One night, you had just arrived at Finn’s for a game night with the whole group and were busy arranging and sorting the snacks into bowls when the teasing started.

“What were you up to last night?” Rose asks as she shuffles cards for some game, a smile on her face that says she already knew exactly what you did.

“Oh, I was with Poe,” you reply, not looking up from arranging food onto the serving plates.

“Of course you were,” Rey replies, standing to move your finished plates from the counter to the table.

“What does that mean?” You pause, looking up with a furrowed brow.

“Just that the two of you spend every second together, and should probably get married already,” Finn adds with a grin on his face as he sets up a speaker. You’re just glad Poe isn’t here for this, knowing that Finn teases him just as much when they’re at work.

Really, it wasn’t your fault that you spent so much time with Poe. If anything, it was his fault, for being all sweet and inviting and wonderful to be around. And, as much as you love the little studio contained in your apartment, Poe had a wonderfully large window, with a perfect view of the world down below, and he always let you come over and paint whatever you see for a while.

You just hope he doesn’t notice the pages upon pages of him, of his gorgeous profile, of his beautifully expressive face, of how he looks whenever he wears those oversized sweaters he’s so fond of. You keep those to yourself, but you show him practically every other piece you create, whether you made it at his house or not.

Soon, though, Poe arrives, and the teasing mostly tapers off, except for a few little comments and eyebrow raises from Finn, who’s seated directly across from you.

Otherwise, it’s a fairly normal game night: Poe keeps pouring drinks for everyone, Rey gets louder and louder as she continues losing, you and Rose cheat together on every game possible while Finn pretends he doesn’t notice. Even with your little tricks, you and Rose lose a majority of the games you play while Poe gains more and more bragging rights.

It’s past midnight when you finally find yourself in bed, happily exhausted from the evening spent with your friends. They always left you drained, in the best way possible, the same way you’d feel after running a marathon: tired but jubilant. You always ended your nights with them feeling so unbelievably happy, as if you’re practically walking on air. Almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re deep asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning, the sun is already high in the sky and you feel groggy and a bit disoriented. You feel the same as when you’d wake up at a sleepover, sprawled across your friend’s floor after getting a solid 4 hours of sleep, your mouth dry and your body aching and the smell of pancakes filling your nose.

Looking outside, the sun is shining, and it’s almost like spring is attempting to peek out at you from around a corner, even though you know winter will linger for a few more months. You drink some water that you’d left by your bedside table, immediately feeling more awake. Still, you lounge in bed and scroll through your phone for a few more minutes before braving the walk on cold flooring to get to the kitchen.

Last time you’d worked, you had taken home a box of old pastries that didn’t sell, making your groggy morning that much easier. You were thankful that you didn’t work today and that you had no other plans so you were able to let your body rest before another hectic, freezing week.

It wasn’t as though you stayed out extraordinarily late or you drank until you felt sick, you’d just been surrounded by friends and excitement and yelling at each other over board games, leaving your social battery a little drained. All you wanted to do today was take a long, hot shower and lounge around, watching shitty TV and eating comfort food.

You’re freshly showered and halfway through your skincare routine when your phone pings with a message from Poe.

Mind if I stop over today?

It takes you half of a second to think of your reply.

I’m not putting on jeans for you

I expect nothing more

And now here you are, smiling down at your phone as if you haven’t been telling yourself your feelings don’t mean anything. You don’t bother rushing, taking your time while mentally chastising yourself - not for inviting Poe over but for being so damn happy about seeing him when you just saw him less than 12 hours ago.

You know you don’t need to impress him at all, so you don’t bother rinsing the few dirty dishes sitting in your sink, you don’t clean up the scattered paint brushes, and you leave your blankets thrown around on the couch. You’re flipping through channels when you hear a knock at the door, and you have to restrain yourself from sprinting to let him in.

When you finally make it to the door, it opens to reveal Poe, all bundled up with his arms laden down with coffee and a brown paper bag you can only assume is full of breakfast sandwiches from that diner you went to together all that time ago. He gives you a bright smile in greeting before he steps inside and slips off his shoes.

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?” You ask, glancing at the clock as you take the tray from his arms.

“It’s never too late for coffee,” he counters as he hangs up his winter coat, “you of all people should know that.” He always makes it so easy to smile, so easy to forget about your fears and worries and doubts.

The two of you make your way to the couch, drinks and snacks in hand, and settle in to watch whatever’s playing on the TV. Despite the size of your couch, Poe sits next to you, not too close that you’d be uncomfortable, but close enough that you could easily extend your hand and touch his arm. You don’t mind it, and you’re a little upset to admit that to yourself.

It’s hard to keep your eyes from wandering, from drifting away from the glowing screen and towards Poe. You’ve always loved his profile, his jawline and his nose and the curve of his eyelashes. Today, his curls look untamed and soft, and you need to physically restrain yourself from reaching over and running your fingers through them.

He doesn’t even need to try, and you’re fawning over him.

You’re a little amazed at your own strength, at the fact that you’ve yet to confess your love through a blurted-out, spur of the moment decision. You know you need to tell him, and soon, but you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth when it could ruin your days like this.

Poe is easy to be around. You never feel like you need to perform for him, like you need to be anyone but yourself. He makes you smile and laugh more than you have in years. He’s thoughtful and full of life and always up for adventure. He loves his friends and family fiercely. Poe Dameron is the perfect man, and you’d be delusional to think he’d want you that way.

As much as that voice in the back of your head wants you to confess, what’s to see what would happen, you’re terrified to ruin what you already have. It felt like your life was over when you’d accidentally kissed him, what would happen when you tell him you love him?

You tell yourself you’re content with this, with his bright and unbounded friendship, and you really are. It’s like acid in your lungs, a rock in your stomach whenever you think about pursuing more, because how can you be so greedy? You’re lucky enough to have Poe as a friend, how could you possibly ask for more?

Being with Poe is like having your own personal sunshine. No one makes the sun shine brighter or the days feel warmer than him. You crave being near him the same way you crave the sun in the winter, there’s just something inside of you that calls out for him. There’s no one else you’d rather spend a semi-hungover Sunday afternoon with.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” Poe says, breaking through your rambling train of thought and bringing you back to the present.

“Of course,” you tell him, turning your attention away from the TV screen, “there’s no one else I’d rather spend time with.”

He smiles at that, a little bashfully, as if he could possibly doubt that he’s your favorite person, that he’s wonderful to be around. You think, for a millisecond, about leaning over and kissing him on the cheek or the forehead, but you resist the urge because last time that happened everything became a disaster.

Part of you craves for Poe’s reaction to your confession, whether it’s good or bad, you just need to know. Still, you hold off a little while longer because you’d rather do anything than break the blanket of peace that’s settled over the two of you as you return to watching movies side by side.

The remaining little bits of sunshine fade away, leaving just you and Poe in the light cast off by the television screen. You scoot just a little closer to him, shifting your weight from one side to the other. His fingers twitch where they rest against your own, as if he’s holding himself back from something.

But he doesn’t make a move, doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, leaving you both side by side and full of things you can’t say.

Tags: @zoriis @andr0medafallen @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate @loonymagizoologist @stvnnie @campingwiththecharmings @outmodead @welcometostayingawake

[whatspringdoestothecherrytrees]

The October Make-Over 🎃

Hello Girlies, this is my October Makeover - feel free to join me if you want! And to customize to whatever you’re working on! (And that could be rest and recovery too!) @mamabeatnik @anolderlove @2pretty @abeatingheart @alicedowntherabbithole-blog

Hyperfocus October: 🍁 🧠

Keep a running distractions notepad.

Put your phone in airplane mode +/- Do not Disturb.

Keep phone in a drawer/bag, different room, etc.

NO TEXTING BEFORE 5pm UNLESS CRITICAL/EMERGENCY (only exception is texting brother and spouse)

List your distractions. (For me: non-critical busywork tasks, email, depressive states, baby stuff, fighting, gossiping, thinking about my traumatic past lol, worrying about the future, finances and budgeting, low self esteem thoughts, having too many metaphorical ��irons in the fire”, not exercising and then having lack of focus/energy/positive mood, Fear of success)

Action October: 🍁

Go live with that project you’ve been putting off. (For me it’s my music Youtube channel. Find an equivalent project for yourself! What are you afraid of doing but want to do? Is shame holding you back like it is for me?)

Remember: You will never be perfect to your standards! You just have to do it. Perfectionism is a form of fear.

Take action on that thing you’ve been complaining about/feeling trapped about. (For me: Actually hire a sitter to have actual date nights/mornings/etc! Rather than mentally complain that “you never get time with ur spouse anymore blah blah”.)

Accountability October:

Make a physical, visual workout tracker for the month to see your progress and consistency over time

Have Friday evening check-ins for a budget, calendar, admin

Zero gossiping!

Zero negativity! Say 3-5 positive/grateful things for every negative/critical thing you say.

Love October: Per Ed Mylett’s Power of One More concept.

Give your sweetie a hug, and then one more!

If you normally give them a greeting kiss, give them one more! Spend a minute hugging, then one more! etc.

Give them a compliment, and then one more!

Go on a weekly date night, and then a little extra time!

Nature October:

Leave the windows open at night!

Enjoy fall candles

Air duvets on balcony overnight

Eat outside as much as possible

Weekends October:

Pumpkin patch trip

Bonfire

Feed the homeless

Make cards for kids in the hospital

Actually go to church events (ie for me cookouts at least once)

Actually take a sabbath (i’d like to do zero chores! Cook/clean ahead). Give yourself the gift of a day completely off!

Make apple pies

Spending $$Sober October: 💵 🍁

NO AMAZON PURCHASES unless absolutely critical

Grocery budget: no fancy vegan foods like vegan cheese, burgers, brats, etc. You can do without that for just a month!

Grocery budget continued: Consider picking fresh wild flowers when possible instead of buying flowers! Or 5$ pretty carnations!

Create a financial goal: ie, house, car, laptop, iPad, 10k savings. Something not too big so it is still attainable. Mine: 10k in savings by January; $$ so I can get Thermage at dermatology!

October Fallcore Hard-Core mornings: Level up from the 5am club!

Get up an hour earlier than usual by the end of October: Wake up 15 minutes earlier each week. (Ie: week 1. 4:45a. Week2, 430a, etc.)

Morning ice bath (or cold plunge outside)

More time reading Bible/praying

Selfcare October:

Weekly clay face mask

Weekly steam/ice facial

(Daily skincare routine should go without saying! It does for me. Cleanser, Vit C + SPF am, retinol + moisturizer pm. If you’re not already doing this, you need to fix your life!)

Weekly epsom salt bath

Daily green juice

Weekly intensive journaling (for me: jordan peterson’s selfauthoring suite)

Fitness October:

30 days of Yoga (YT Yoga w Adriene)

Zone 2 cardio > 3x/week (for me - running, swimming)

Stretching afterwards, side splits (TLB on YT)

Pull-ups on Tuesday and Thursday

Weekend warrior: extra long run or swim

Inspire October:

Meditate daily > 15 minutes

Spend time riding your bike > 1x/month

Get rollerblades again! Skate > 1x/week

Let your mind wander for a few minutes daily!

Watch inspiring YT videos (for me, that’s Robin Sharma etc).

Read for pleasure/inspiration > 1x/week!

Grind October:

Get to work/school 30-60 minutes earlier than you usually do

Have at least one day per week where you work insane hours in person (ie big experiment, long project)

Lay out your work outfit the night before so mornings are a little easier.

Professional Goals October:

Have at least one major needle-moving goal accomplished this month in your school/work.

For me it’s:

Submit manuscript

Complete dissertation

Apply to defend dissertation

Defend dissertation

Complete scoping review

Complete meta data analysis