#and i wanna apply in six weeks so i need to have my shit in order

[seancekitsch]

Die with your Boots on: Part 3, a Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

part one, part two here

warnings: vampire shit, cursing, possessive eddie, steve is fed up with couples arguing, surprisingly sweet smut, maybe angst, insecurities, maybe sinister implications

Things fall into a pattern in the Harrington household. Steve goes to work, you go on job interviews (refusing to apply to Family Video and frustrating Steve to no end), and Eddie mostly just manages. He eats about three times a week, and doesn’t have to sleep during the day, but he does have to stay away from the windows.

Tonight you come bounding into the house, an excited look on your face. It’s something Steve and Eddie were getting used to seeing again. It’s clear you’ve interrupted some conversation between the two men, but Eddie greets you with a tight hug and a kiss to the forehead.

“What's got my lady so happy tonight?” Eddie asks, leading you to the kitchen island where he and Steve were.

“I got a job!” you announce to the both of them, not holding back your voice and nearly shouting.

“That's great!” Steve praises, “Where?”

“At a bar right outside of Marion! Like, thirty minutes from here?”

“Yeah, I know that area,” Eddie says, not exactly sounding like he wants to celebrate anymore.

“What's wrong, Eds?”

He sighs deeply, really wanting to be excited for you, but he knows you and you’ll fight him on this. He knows exactly the type of place youre talking about, dark and dirty, everything in the bar wet for some reason. Married truckers and cops and washed up scuzzballs that rough up the cute young bartenders or follow them out to their car when clearly all they want to do is go home and study for their college courses.

“I wanna be able to come check up on you okay? If you work night shifts, I’ll be there.”

You nod slowly, the smile dropping from your face. Steve excuses himself, something about not wanting to hear a couple fighting even when his parents are absent.

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, already leaning away from him and crossing your arms. He already knows it’ll be a scuffle when you get like this, stubborn to a fault. He loves it an equal amount to how much he absolutely hates it, especially because Eddie always lets you get your way.

“I do, Babe,’ he sighs, “I’ve done shows in little bars near Marion. I don’t wanna see those guys that hang out be gross with you.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“I think I can handle myself just fine. I don’t need you to eat anyone who gives me a big tip.”

It’s his turn to scoff and get mad.

“What, you think I’m jealous of some slobs who don’t treat women right?”

“I think you might be a little possessive! Don’t you remember high school?”

“All six years of it?” he snarks back, putting his hands on his hips.

“I never got to go to prom because you scared off everyone that asked! I totally believe you would scare off big tippers. We need the money, Eds.”

Eddie only scoffs, muttering something about you having a better time prom night somewhere else.

He runs his tongue over one of his fangs, new and sharp. You sigh and shake your head at him. He’s impossible.

“Might do more than scare,” he says nonchalantly.

“You’re gonna fuckin eat my customers?” You ask, trying to sound angry but your gaze softens and the laugh in your tone is apparent. He won this round.

“Yeah maybe,” he replies cooly.

“If they touch you,” he adds, his eyes raking up and down your body.

You try hard to suppress the shiver going down your spine, but with Eddie’s heightened senses, you can’t get anything past him.

“Oh, did you like that?” he asks, tone immediately changes, and he steps forward, invading your space. You step back until the small of your back hits the stone counter of the kitchen.

“N-no?” you stutter, and his arms come around either side of you to lean against the counter, trapping you between him and it.

“I think you’re lying, Darling. I can smell it on you. I can hear your heart racing,” He dips his head low, whispering in your ear as he presses further against you. For either dramatics or his own selfishness, he inhales deeply as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck

“Maybe I like my guys possessive,” you admit smiling bashfully and turning your head away from him, but that’s not even half of it.

You like Eddie possessive; you like Eddie being so possessive he’d fight (or worse) for you. You liked that even when Eddie was just a friend in high school he was like your attack dog ready to get anyone who looked at you wrong. You just wished that when he scared away your prom date he would have taken you to somewhere a bit more intimate than Reefer Rick’s house and done something a little more with you than just smoked you out and set off fireworks high with you. 

 You can’t even hide the fact that him being some kind of vampire or something is fucking hot to you. His strength, the ease in which he can just carry you both onto the roof to watch the stars and do anything he wants. He has you a blushing mess, even in front of others, when he can throw you over his shoulder like you’re featherlight, when something as simple as your pulse can have him hard as a rock. He’s all over you, and you have a feeling it’s more than just the fact that he can finally say ‘I love you’ behind that.

And it's not like you haven't tried to be… intimate. The two of you try to get down to it, the most recent time he actually had your shirt off and had you writhing beneath him before he had to pull back. It's hard for him, he explained to you, because if he hasn't fed recently the urge can be for him to devour you instead of to ravish you. You notice the way his eyes glaze over and his brow furrows in frustration right before he pulls away from you, ripping himself from your grasp as if he’d been burned. You know it's not personal, but it still hurts a bit to be rejected like that. Part of you worries about his hunger, but deep in your heart of hearts you know he would never hurt you, not really.

“Well I guess it's good you chose me, huh?” he whispers, lips now ghosting over the shell of your ear. Your hands come up over his back, rubbing light circles against his shoulder blades. You practically melt into his embrace, letting him press you by the hips into the counter as he leans forward, your back arching to accommodate him.

“Uh huh,” you mutter, words failing you currently. How was he so fucking hot?

“Uh huh?” he mimics the breathiness of your voice, “That all you got? Baby, use your fuckin words. You know you got a mouth on you.”

His lips find your neck, mouthing at your pulse point teasingly before he presses more kisses down the column of your throat. He holds you close to him, enjoying the feeling of your body against his, taking extra care to press your chest against his. Eddies hands move all around you, groping at any part of you he can reach.

Eddie grabs you under your arms and hoists you up onto the counter, not gently, but then quickly settles in, his hips now between your thighs as he gets himself even closer to you.

“You like this top?” he asks, already pawing at the buttons.

“Eddie, don’t,” you warn, already knowing if you were to hesitate he wouldn’t. He would rip the buttons right off and pull the shirt apart.

He whines a little and pouts, but then gets to work; deft fingers working the buttons from their clasps quickly so he can pull the shirt from where it’s tucked into your jeans and throw it somewhere across the kitchen.

He presses kisses all over your chest and collarbones, mouthing and moaning on you and leaving a trail of spit in his wake.

“So pretty, so fucking pretty,” he groans, and you can only arch further into him, your head falling back as you flourish under his touch.

He makes his way back up, finally capturing your lips in a long awaited kiss, wet and sloppy. He licks at your lips until they part and then is quick to push his tongue into your mouth. It's imperfect and messy and so perfectly Eddie. It's exactly how you always imagined he would kiss you.

When you were just friends, he was still so tactile, always hands on you, any kiss on the forehead or cheek would be messy and smear up your makeup. Now that you think back on it though, his reasons for being all over you probably weren't so innocent.

Your hands roam his body, palms coming up over his shoulders and rubbing against his chest where you can reach, soft skin against the soft worn material of his motorhead shirt. You reach down, towards the hem of his shirt. He seems to anticipate this, and his own hands grasp your wrists and pull them away, stopping your movement. He pulls away, worry in evident in his eyes, previously dilated with lust.

“If we— can we,” Eddie stutters, his bravado and confidence fading fast, his eyes darting between you and the stairs.

“Let’s go upstairs,” you offer, sparing his nerves. He helps you off the counter, removing your hands from under his shirt as he does so and leads you towards the stairs. Almost all of the urgency of his movements has faded away.

He opens the door to the guest room- your bedroom- almost timidly and leads you to the bed, where you instantly drop onto it. Eddie chews his lip, his fangs poking out every few seconds.

“Eds, baby, whats up?” you ask, “Are you… hungry?”

You try to put it lightly, you don't want to set him off. He shakes his head, his lovely curls shaking wildly as well.

“Nah I- I had a go at the meat freezer earlier.”

You stand up to try to embrace him again but he steps back.

“Are you okay?” you ask, a slight edge in your voice. You're not mad at him, you're not, but Eddie is always at least recently direct with you. He tells you what he’s thinking, what different stimuli are doing to his new senses and experiences. If this is a vampire thing, you need to know, sooner rather than later.

He sighs and looks down at your slightly shaking hands. Maybe he shouldn't do it.

“I don't want to scare you away.”

You shake your head, ready to refute him, but he keeps going.

“I don't look like I used to. I know I wasn't exactly Eddie Van Halen before but I’m downright ugly now, sweetheart.”

Your shoulders sag, your heart breaking for him.

“Eddie you know I only said I liked Van Valen was so I could say ‘I have a crush on Eddie’ without embarrassing myself, right?”

Well shit, he didn't. He smiles a little at that.

“You've always been handsome. I promise I’ll like what I see.”

Your hand reaches out for him encouraging him to get close again. He doesn't, but he takes a step closer.

Well, don't say I didn't warn you, darling.”

He lifts up his shirt slowly, refusing to meet your gaze. You were there when it happened, so you know what to expect, just maybe not as scarring. You saw him bloodied and holey. Pale purple and white scar tissue litters his skin, one of his hips looks marred and torn like a road in need of paving. His light happy trail that leads all the way up to the bottom of his belly button is interrupted by another tear of flesh, this one darker than the others you see. Eddie sighs as he pulls the tee shirt the rest of the way over his head, and he continues to look anywhere but at you. Suddenly, it’s like the sneakers Steve had leant Eddie in the corner were the most interesting things in the world.

The scarring gets worse the closer to his neck it gets. His right nipple is entirely gone, his pectoral on that side a shredded flat panel of near white scar tissue so much paler than the rest of his skin.

Your heart is fucking broken. How had he survived this? Vampire or not, he must have been more bloodied chew toy than young man for an agonizing amount of time. Despite this, you don't find yourself missing his old body. This is the body of your boyfriend, the man you love. You can't help but love every scar. It's all part of him. 

You stand up off the bed, and enter his space. He tries to dodge your gaze, but you're nothing if not stubborn, bobbing your head until he can't escape you and he finally looks at you.

“You didn't need to hide this from me,” you whisper, as if you’d scare him if you speak louder. 

Your hands gently reach out to touch him, his cool skin a contrast to yours. His skin is still smooth, where there isn't scarring. The scars don't feel rough like you'd imagine, though; the raised texture doesn't feel much different from your own scars. You run your hands up and down his chest, careful to avoid the purpled scars as those ones look more painful. His eyes are trained on you, dark brown and wet like he's ready to cry.

“You're so strong, Eddie, thank you for trusting me with this,” you punctuate this with a kiss to the top of his marred pectoral, then another kiss right above his heart.

“You're sure you want this?” He asks, his voice wavering.

You only nod, offering him a reassuring smile and all of the silent love in your heart.

Eddie grabs you again, this time with even more force than he did in the kitchen, his hands pulling your bare waist against him. His mouth is all over you, quickly descending to your cleavage. Eddie nudges your bra away to nip at your breast, sure to leave a mark.

“All mine, all fuckin mine,” he mumbles against you, one of his fangs grazing your skin and lighting a fire in you.

What would that feel like? you think. Would it feel good for you? It’s already clear Eddie has some kind of need to taste you, one that he’s a complete gentleman about not acting on, but maybe you’d let him one day.

“All yours, baby,” you moan, loving his attention to your chest, “I want you to take me, make sure everyone knows I’m yours.”

“Fuuuck, babe you sound like a good porno. Keep saying shit like that and I’m not gonna last.”

You're both laughing as he unclasps your bra and pushes you back towards the bed, and then reconnects in a sloppy kiss as you fall over each other trying to climb up towards the pillows. You settle under him, his body between your thighs and pressing bare chests against each other.

“Do you know how long I've waited to see these?” Eddie asks, cupping your breasts in his hands.

“I’m guessing it's not recent?” you joke, hooking your fingers in his belt loops and yanking his hips into yours.

“Since that summer you came back from camp with them, sweetheart.”

About eight years, then. How long had he loved you then?

He squeezes one harshly, and you moan wantonly.

“I think I need you out of your pants too, Eds. I can't wait any longer,” you moan again, starting to buck your hips up against him or any kind of friction you can get. How many fucking nights you had spent with your hand exactly where Eddie currently was and just hoping youd get to feel the real thing one day.

“Guess I can’t leave my queen waiting, can I?” Eddie teases, and gets up quickly, fumbling with his pants at the edge of the bed. You’re just as quick to work your way out of your pants, comically raising your hips off the bed to slide them off of the curve of your ass and almost frantically kicking them away. Instantly you feel better, so ready for Eddie’s cool skin to soothe the fire in your core.

He presses back flush against you, grinding himself against your panties and whining at the contact.

“More, please,” you beg, and he obliges.

He moves quickly, shimmying out of his boxers one handedly as he tries to pry the elastic of your panties down. It’s not smooth or suave, it’s not even the most romantic, but it’s you and Eddie and that makes it perfect.

You help him the rest of the way, and then you lay back to admire him. There’s another large scar on his upper thigh, and another tattoo you didn’t know about. A blade, one that looks like the one he described three campaigns before last ever one he led. His cock is everything you imagined and more. He’s hung, not the thickest, but still girth and slightly curved downwards.

“See something you like?” he teases you again. Yes, yes you do. You’re not ashamed in your staring. He’s more perfect than the statue of fucking David.

“Uh huh,” you nod absentmindedly, distracted by finally seeing your best friend naked.

“There you go again with that shit. Words, babe,” He warns, leaning back down to cage you in between his arms.

“Fuckin handsome, Eds. Godly,” you whisper, still staring down at him instead of looking him in the eye. You don’t even realize where his eyes are.

“There we go. Fuck, you’re beautiful. How are you mine?” he sighs in disbelief, eyes going back and forth down your body to memorize every detail.

“All yours, Eddie,” you echo, already out of it and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“You’re sure you want this?” he asks, tilting your chin to make you look at him again, “No going back if we do this.”

He means no going back from fucking your best friend. No running from the full extent of your feelings. No going back from knowing exactly what the stakes are now that this unholy coupling is consummated.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, I think I might cry if you don’t fuck me,” You respond, more sure of this than anything in your life.

“You don’t want me to warm you up or anything? Grab a condom?” he presses, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“Eddie, I. Will. Cry. Please fuck me,” you beg, squirming under him now for any type of friction or release.

Eddie kisses you on the forehead, the tip of your nose, your lips.

“Anything for you,” He mumbles against your lips, and then lines himself up against you. The tip of his cock bumps against your clit, and an embarrassing squeak leaves your lips. Eddie laughs, dropping his head to lean his forehead against yours as he finally pushes into you.

Eddie moans loudly as he does, not hiding any of his pleasure. You're breathing deeply, unused to the stretch. Its been since high school since youve fucked anyone, and its not like your fingers could do this.

“This okay?” he asks, noticing how you are tensed.

“Better than okay,” you hiss, breathing heavily through your nose, “Youre just big.”

“You sure do know how to stroke a guys ego, pretty thing,” he chuckles, and starts moving, slowly, glacial.

You roll your hips up into his, forcing him that much deeper.

“You’re evil,” he laughs again, and then picks up the pace. He quickly finds a rhythm, rolling into you like a tide to the shore, pressing kisses and words of love into your skin the whole time. You’re massaging your thumbs into his shoulders, holding him in place and kissing your own words of love into him.

“Wanted this forever,” you gasp, lips lazily moving across his jaw.

“Want this forever,” Eddie counters, his thrusts already starting to falter and speed up. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter if this lasts long. You’ve already been wound up since Eddie caught an attitude with you, and you’ve been dying for him to touch you like this for years.

You do want this forever, you know that, and have known that forever. Truthfully, this is exactly how you wanted prom night to end after Eddie had all but threatened the guy that asked you and got you to come smoke with him instead.

“Fuck babe, you’ve got me forever,” you promise, rocking against him to help, “I’m all yours forever.”

“Forever?” he echos, and you just nod aggressively, now starting to lose more of your composure. With each thrust you start to lose control of your moans, little whimpers and squeaks leaving your throat as he bottoms out each time.

“Fuck, those noises, I could get addicted to those alone,” he moans, more ragged and losing his own composure as well.

“Could get addicted to all this,” you manage to say, “Fuck, close.”

“Yeah babe? You're gonna come for me?”

“Uh huh,” you say again, but this time he doesn't correct you, he lets it slide, maybe because of the way you are moaning around every syllable, the way hes the only thing tethering you to this world right now.

“Gonna make you- fuck- gonna,” he stutters, and then trails off focusing all his energy on you, his hand reaching down to rub tight circles on your clit to finish the job, and it works like a charm. You practically scream his name as you tighten around you, your entire body tensing and shaking beneath him.

He fucks you through your orgasm, actually quieter than he always imagined it, but sublime and beautiful moreso than he expected. You're like an angel, a real one, a biblical one, in the way that he's almost blinded by the beauty of this moment and seeing you this vulnerable. It stirs something dangerous inside of him. He’s never wanted to bite into the artery of your neck more than this moment. Never wanted to sink his teeth into you more than right now, with you making love to him and completely falling apart at this moment.

The realization scares him as much as it triggers his own release. As much as he would love to stay buried in you forever, he hastily pulls out and paints your stomach with his come. He’s not sure it would even do anything, but he doesn't want to take any chances or jeopardize anything he has with you.

Fucking ignoring the mess, he collapses on top of you, holding you close to him, hugging you tightly.

You realize your shoulder is wet, and it's not your sweat.

“Eds?” you ask, instantly worried, “You okay?”

He nods against you, not picking up his head.

“I love you, that's all. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too Eddie. You can come hang out on my night shifts,” you concede he won the earlier argument. You like your Eddie possessive.

You fall asleep like that quickly after, with Eddie staying like that with you until the sun started to rise.

He loves you too, as much as it might scare him.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine

[dailyshialabeef]

y’all I am. LOSING IT. LOSING MY MIND!!!!!!

That job???? PAYS FOURTEEN AN HOUR. IS TWO DAYS A WEEK. IS AT. A. LAUNDRY. MAT.

We have gotta fucking do something about workers rights and just. Everything in this country. I would love to hang out and just fold laundry and talk to folks all day, get home by dinner. Maybe only work a few days and week so I can spend more time volunteering and gardening and ya know. LIVING.

I just left the service industry as a line cook because I was experiencing so much stress I was blacking out from panic attacks…I’m not bad at working. I just really don’t want to be extremely stressed out every day. But I also don’t want to spend!!! 40 minutes!!! Applying for a minimum wage job!!!!!

My other option currently is going back to seasonal work and I do really desperately want to do it. But the positions are mostly all filled by now at ski resorts and national parks. And having filled out like six in the last few hours I have started getting exceedingly burnt out by the amount of FUCKERY that a RESTAURANT AND HOTEL want. Like literally six paragraphs of waxing poetic about your fucking ambitions and how much you want to fucking work for their company and ugh!!!!!! I know it’s like to see if you’ll do it, so they’ll know if you REALLY wanna work there and out in the work but y’all. I will work hard, I will. But these places have got to start making it easier.

When my parents applied to jobs they just walked in and dropped off an application or called them on the phone. In 2022 if you wanna fold laundry for $15 an hour you gotta do a work assessment to see if you’ll turn your coworker in if they steal a box of clorox wipes and record yourself pretending to be a Good Employee.

I am. Tired. I want to break shit, I want to cry. Maybe I need water or to go for a walk. Idk. Why is the world so difficult now.

#long post #sorry #personal vent #fuck capitalism

[tenswrld]

old enough to understand

mark lee x reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff

summary: now that you’re older, you seem to finally understand how mark makes you feel

a/n: came up with this at 2am while listening to my mark lee dedicated playlist and pluto projector came on and u already know that one part made me emotional also do u like my doodles i made on the photo ^^

growing up, you were surrounded by the concept of love. you witnessed it with your parents, when you got your first pet, and even when you took your first bite into your favorite fruit.

when you first met mark lee at the age of 6, you didn’t think that the word love would apply to him. at least, not in the way that you knew it. 

“no! it’s mine, i don’t want to give you any!” the young boy yelled.

“you can just go get more! i just want some watermelon!” you screamed back.

“go get some yourself!”

angry, you stomped away towards the table of adults. “mrs. lee, mark won’t give me a piece of his watermelon.”

the older woman laughed softly before getting up and leading you to the table of fruit. “forgive him, watermelon is his favorite. i’ll be sure to make sure he shares next time, okay?”

while you ate your own fruit alone in the grass, mark came up to you scratching his neck awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “i’m sorry for being rude...i just really like watermelon...”

you narrowed your eyes at him before bursting into a fit of giggles, offering your own watermelon out to him. “it’s okay, mark, i like watermelon too. i understand.” he took the piece that you held out to him and took a seat next to you.

when you first met mark, you didn’t think anything of him except for that he was the dorky boy next door who seemed to reserve the concept of love for his favorite fruit.

in middle school, you and mark seemed to clash heads more often than not, and you found it hard to stick around him. desperate to seem cool in front of the new friends that he made, mark steered away from you and teased you whenever he saw you in the halls. you almost despised him in your middle school years, but no matter how much teasing he did mark always waited for you outside of the school gates and walked you home safely. 

though he was still unsure of the role you had in his life, mark knew that he wanted to keep you around.

in high school, your parents fantasized about the idea of the two of you dating, but you and mark always recoiled at the thought. friend groups and social status set you and mark even further apart and before you knew it you became a messenger to girls who wanted mark to call their own. when you got your first boyfriend in sophomore year, mark tried to warn you that the guy was no good, but like always you never listened to him. when he broke your heart, you expected mark to scold you and tell you he told you so, but he provided you comfort in his arms instead.

though he didn’t love you then, mark vowed that he would never let your heart get broken again.

when it came time for you and mark to go off to college, you found yourself a lot more upset than you had initially thought you would be. you were excited to go off and find yourself elsewhere, but something about not having the silly, brown haired boy by your side 24/7 felt strange. granted, you two weren’t as close as your six year old self thought you would be, but you found that you and mark held a special type of bond that you feared you wouldn’t find anywhere else. 

you still hadn’t figured out your love for mark lee, but you knew that leaving him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do.

“just...promise to call often, okay?” you told him as you walked with him to his car, a box of his things in your arms.

mark’s lips curled up into a smug smile. “why? gonna miss me that much?” 

you rolled your eyes. “you’re making me regret saying that. you’ll be lucky if i don’t block you after this, idiot.”

mark laughed loudly and you found yourself smiling softly at the sound. you placed the box in his truck before you both turned to each other. “i’ll text you everyday and call when i can. don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily. you’ll probably be hearing about my uncontrollable gas everyday so if that’s not what you’re looking for then...”

you laughed and shoved his shoulder, mumbling for him to shut up. “it’s gonna be weird without you, i think.”

mark shrugged. “yeah, well, we’ll see each other again. just think about it like that time where you got so mad at me for blowing up your house in minecraft that you ignored me for a week!”

mark expected you to laugh but became concerned when he saw your lip quivering and your eyes threatening to spill tears. “y/n? sorry, is that, like, a sensitive memory?”

when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his torso and mumbled a soft ‘i’ll miss you’ into his chest, mark cursed at himself for being the first one to fall in love.

___

“isn’t it like 4am for you? you should go to bed,” you scolded him half heartedly. you sat at your vanity on facetime with a sleepy mark as you did your nightly skincare routine.

mark groaned through the phone and shook his head. “but i wanna talk to you,” he whined groggily. “i miss you.”

your cheeks heat up and you smiled shyly. “i miss you too, mark.”

mark blinked slowly with a tired look, his hair all messed up and his face in need of a shave. he watched you silently as you rubbed your moisturizer into your skin, smiling at the sight. “...you’re really pretty you know that?”

you froze and chuckled nervously, keeping yourself busy with your moisturizer so you didn’t have to see the way mark was looking at you. “you’re talking nonsense again.”

he grumbled, “i’m not talking any nonsense. you’re so pretty, y/n, i miss seeing your face. i hate facetime and my shit wifi.”

“you’re rambling, marky, go to bed,” you ushered him, this time grabbing your phone to look at him.

he smiled fondly at you. “i like it when you call me marky.”

“okay, i’ll call you it more if you go to bed.” 

mark huffed and complied, bidding you one last goodbye. “fine. i miss you so much, y/n, call me tomorrow.”

“okay, i will.”

“promise?” mark asked softly, peeking open one eye to look at you.

“i promise, you big baby.”

“okay, goodnight. love you,” mark mumbled softly into his pillow, already half asleep.

your breath hitched in your throat at his words. you two hardly ever said that phrase to each other but you began to realize that nowadays mark seemed to say it quite often. before, you’d probably make a face in disgust at the cheesiness, but now it only made your stomach sick with butterflies.

“yeah, love you too, marky. sleep tight.” 

already fast asleep, mark stayed silent. your thumb hovered over the ‘end call’ button, but you waited a few more seconds just to look at how peaceful mark looked. you could see the sky turning from a dark black to a paler blue from his window, making you frown since the boy had stayed up so late. before you could look at him any longer, you ended the call and sat back in your chair.

loving mark lee had always seemed impossible to you, but now you realized that it was the one thing that you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

___

you spent a lot of time thinking about your feelings for mark while you were away and most of it was you being in denial. you thought that maybe it was just because you weren’t used to being so far away from him, but deep down you knew otherwise. your friends had tried setting you up on blind dates, yet no one seemed to fill in the gap that you felt you had in your heart.

after you finished your first year of college, your mother began to pester you about having a boyfriend for you to bring home for the holidays. yet no matter how many guys you thought about, your mind would always bring you back to mark.

it was now christmas time and your family and mark’s family were going to have a small get together, meaning that you and mark would get to spend time with each other in person again. you weren’t sure if you should tackle mark at the sight of him, but you figured he would do the same to you anyway.

“y/n, sweetheart! my gosh, it’s been so long! you’ve grown up so well,” mark’s mother cooed as she gave you a warm hug.

you chuckled and returned her hug, replying with, “thank you, mrs. lee. it’s nice to see you again.”

she playfully nudged your shoulder. “any boyfriend yet?”

you laughed awkwardly and shook your head, looking away. “oh, um, no...not yet.”

she beamed. “mark will be happy to hear that.” she said it so fast that you almost didn’t catch it. “he’s out back waiting for you. i told him i’d tell him when you got here, but it’ll be a nice surprise for him,” she winked.

you thanked her briefly before making your way to the backyard excitedly. you thought that you’d be more nervous facing the boy you loved but, frankly, all you wanted to do was finally tell him that you loved him.

when you opened the door mark immediately turned his head, expecting to see his mom, but his facial expression completely changed when he saw you. he ran up to you with the brightest smile on his face and engulfed you into his arms. you laughed joyously into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you as close to his chest as humanly possible.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to do that,” he mumbled into your hair.

you smiled against his shoulder before pulling away to look at him. the two of you held eye contact for what felt like an eternity before mark finally returned his arms back to his side.

“even though we call everyday, it feels like i’m meeting you for the first time all over again,” mark said with a light laugh.

“i hope i lived up to your expectations, then,” you joked.

mark smiled fondly at you before brushing snow out of your hair. “definitely above expectations.”

you blushed at his comment but thanked the cold weather for hiding your rosy cheeks. before you could make more small talk, mark burst out into another sentence.

“y/n, i have to get this off of my chest before i explode,” he blurted.

your eyes widened and you nodded your head. “oh, um, okay, what is it?”

he gripped at his hair and turned around, beginning to whine. “oh my god, i’m gonna sound like the biggest idiot on earth. please don’t hate me after this.”

“...what did you do, mark?”

“i didn’t do anything! well...” he faced you again with a sigh and grabbed your hands taking you by surprise. “y/n, i’m in love with you. and i know you probably just see me as that stupid annoying boy your mom forced you to be friends with but i’ve loved you for over a year and it’s driving me crazy and i-”

“mark!” you interrupted him, placing a hand over his mouth. he looked at you with wide eyes while you smiled at him, practically glowing with happiness. you removed your hand from over his mouth and he sighed again.

“just reject me so i can go cry in my room.” mark shut his eyes and prepared himself for rejection but it never came.

“i love you too, mark.”

mark opened one at to stare at you suspiciously. “...really? like, seriously?”

you chuckled. “yes, really. for a few months now.”

“wait, you’re not pranking me or anything, right?” mark asked with a small laugh.

you glared at him. “mark...”

“i’m sorry, i’m just really surprised!” mark opened his mouth to say something but then gasped and dug into his back pocket to grab something.

when he pulled out a small piece of mistletoe you seemed to fall in love with the brunette boy all over again. he grabbed one of your hands and gently pulled you closer to him, using the other hand to hold the mistletoe over your guys’ heads. 

“i brought this just in case. i know that you’ve always fantasized about a moment like this so...” he said sheepishly. “kiss me?”

you laughed and brushed his hair out of his eyes before cupping his cheeks and placing a soft kiss on his lips. you felt him smile into the kiss, making you laugh and pull away.

“been waiting for that one too, huh?” you teased.

mark waved the mistletoe above the two of you and shook his head. “less talking and more kissing please...”

it took you over 10 years for you to realize that you loved mark lee but, if you had to, you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee oneshot #mark lee fluff #NCT #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct dream #nct mark #nct oneshot #im so bad at writing confession scenarios im so sorry #superm #mark lee oneshots

[kakejiszka]

Studio Fun

This is my first Jake smut, hope you enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: contains lots of smut, you have been warned.

After changing at least six times, you still hadn't chosen among the three set of clothes that were lying on your bed, surrounded by several other pieces of clothing that together created a mess in your entire room, that smelled like citrus, makeup and despair.

You couldn't help but tremble with anxiety at the sight of yourself in your lingerie in the mirror, after all, the occasion you were dressing for was unprecedented. Should you wear a fancy dress? A slutty short skirt? A rocker leather jacket?

You had hit the jackpot: after a few weeks going out with Jake, he had finally invited you to meet the studio where he and his band rehearsed every week. And furthermore, you would meet his brother Josh and Sam and their friend Danny for the first time. You were nervous, as shit was starting to get serious.

Jake was living rent free in your head. Since the first time you saw him, your standards for men had never been the same, after all, no one could surpass his beauty, talent and charisma. To top it all, he was so romantic: on the three times you went out together, he managed to surprise you even with the simplest things. On your first date, you had coffee together, but he gifted you white roses. On the second date, you two took a walk around the town and he held your hand the entire time. On the third date, where it's socially acceptable to have sex, he took you to a super fancy restaurant with wonderful food. You even wore a beatiful black dress and made sure to wear your best lingerie. But, despite taking you home and kissing you by the door (for the first time), that was it. Maybe he was shy, maybe he wasn't ready, but you couldn't help but feeling a bit disappointed for not spending the night with him.

You chose the skirt. If there was even the smallest chance of you seducing him that day, you were willing to try. You finished the look with a black tank top, which was so tight you didn't feel the need to wear a bra, an oversized jeans jacket and black boots. You applied some eyeliner and mascara.

You called an Uber to the address Jake had texted you and quickly you arrived. Your phone vibrated in your jacket's pocket. "Be there in 15" his text said. You felt your legs tremble during the whole time you spent waiting for him, which seemed like an eternity. Despite all his qualities, it wasn't new to you that Jake Kizka's worst flaw was that he was always late.

You noticed the studio: it was very big and it seemed like a place full of quality equipment. The street where it was located was full of different records and musical instruments stores, what made you realize you were in a part in town where you could find everything that was music-related. As you waited for him, all the thoughts in the world were crossing your mind: what if he's not so into me? What if his brothers don't like me? What am I doing here? What kind of idea was this? Do I still have time to go back home?

"Hey!" you were surprised by a familiar voice behind you.

"Jake!" you said, nervousness resonating in your voice.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, giggling.

"No, I'm okay, it's just that..." you didn't even have to finish what you were saying so that he could understarnd the situation.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, they will love to meet you."

Jake gave you his hand and you held it, now feeling much safer and calmer than before.

You two entered the studio and followed through a long dark hallway. The walls were painted black and were full of band posters and stickers. There were other rooms there and you could hear other bands rehearsing inside them. Jake guided you to the end of the hallway where a small set of stairs took you to the second floor.

For your surprise, there weren't other rooms on the second floor like there were on the first floor. It was a single room entirely, where you could find everything: a big couch, a frigo, technical equipment for recording, vending machines, snooker table, a mini bar, all sorts of things...

A section of the room was isolated by a thick glass wall. Inside it, the walls were covered in acoustic panels and the room was filled with many amplifiers, pedals, instruments and a bunch of other things you didn't know what were called were there.

Lying on the couch were Danny, Sam and Josh, waiting for Jake.

"Goddamnit, finally!" Josh shouted "we waited for like an hour!"

"I was getting ready for her" Jake answered, smirking and pulling you close to him by your waist. You couldn't hide the embarassment on your face.

"What a fancy studio!" you said, trying to change the subject "I didn't know you rehearsed in such a cool place."

"It wasn't always like this, ya know" Josh said while standing up and putting his hands in his pockets "we started playing at our house, but it was starting to get too noisy for miss Karen" he laughed.

"It's true, we had to look for cheap studios, but it was hard to find anything in a small town like Frankenmuth" Sam said.

You all talked a bit and, fortunately, the boys were all very nice. You felt very welcomed by Josh's sense of humor, Sam's big smile and Danny's kindness.

After you got to know them, they entered the acoustic room and started rehearsing. You sat on the couch to watch them and, although you were scared to feel bored, you had a lot of fun with the private show they were performing for you.

You couldn't take your eyes off Jake. What he did to the guitar was phenomenal, sexy and even pornographic. The way he slowly slid his hand over the guitar's neck while sweat drops fell on his forehead were making you cross your legs a bit too hard over the couch.

He noticed you were staring at him and smiled at you through the glass, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarassment. You must have been making a funny face, because he giggled at the sight of you.

After two or three hours of rehearsal, they were done. Although the air-conditioning was making you shiver, they left the room all sweaty. Josh, Sam and Danny went to the frigo to get some beer. Jake went there as well, but he made sure to get one for you too.

"Did you like to watch the rehearsal?" Jake asked, offering you an already open Corona bottle.

"I loved it!" you said, getting the bottle from his hand and taking a sip.

"I was scared you would get bored" he said while he sat by your side on the couch and opened his bottle.

"How could I? I felt very special for watching such an exclusive show!" you said, making him laugh.

For the first time, you noticed what he was wearing: a dark purple silk shirt with the buttons opened showing his chest, as he always wore them. He had tight black cuffed pants and brown boots. On his neck, some long necklaces that reached the middle of his bare chest, and on his wrists a few bracelets. His style was casual and attractive, but goddamn, he looked so fucking hot.

The rest of the day was very fun. You two drank together and talked a lot, what got you even closer to each other. Josh, Sam and Danny played snooker and drank a lot, until they decided to leave.

There were only you and Jake, that were now a bit tipsy and still had a lot to talk about. You noticed that, although you two had already went out before, this was the first time you talked this much. When you realized, you were physically very close: your legs were resting over Jake's left leg and his hand was caressing the back of your head. Your index finger was circling around Jake's bare chest. He looked so great in that shirt.

"Do you wanna see something?" he excitedly asked. You, curious as you were, immediately answered:

"Sure."

Jake stood up and walked towards the platform where there was a panel with a billion different buttons you had no idea were for. After pressing and regulating some of them, he made a sign with his fingers invinting you to join him.

"What does that thing do?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Everything" he playfully answered.

"Everything what?" you asked again, laughing impatiently.

"This is the sound mixer, where we can control everything inside the acoustic room. Bass, treble, autotune, tuning, echo, volume... and so on" while he patiently explained to you, you admired him. He would get so excited when talking about music.

"Wow" you responded, without taking your eyes off his.

"Wanna try it out?" he asked.

"What? Are you serious?" you almost spit the liquid of the forth or fifth beer bottle you were having that day.

"Very serious" he said, looking deep in your eyes.

"Okay then..."

"Put this on" he said, grabbing the two headphones thar were lying on the table over the mixer and handing one over to you.

You did as he said and Jake left you responsible for the sound mixer and ran inside the acoustic room, almost tripping due to his light state of inebriation.

"What is he doing?" you quietly asked yourself.

He shut the door of the acoustic room and got one of the 6 or 7 guitars that were inside. After that, he put on the headphones that he brought with him to the room, turned on the microphone that was resting over a tripod and said:

"Can you hear me?"

The sound came out so loud in your headphones that you got scared and jumped, almost turning deaf. After that, you laughed a lot and so did he.

"How do I turn this thing down?" you asked him, screaming so he could hear you through the glass wall.

"Slide the red button down, on your right. Oh, and you don't have to scream, on your left there's a microphone that's meant for you to talk to me while I'm inside, just hold its button down."

You did as he told you to and laughed at yourself, feeling silly for not knowing how to use those things.

"There. Can I do what I want here?"

"Yeah!" he answered.

Jake started playing a random melody and you played with the sounds, having fun like a child. Distorting, increasing and decreasing the echoes, you two laughing like fools.

When you had enough fun, Jake spoke on the microphone again.

"Did you know this room has an almost perfect acoustic insulation?"

"Almost perfect? Like, no one can hear from the outside?" you said while pressing the mic's button and arching a brow, without believing him.

"Exactly" he said, putting his guitar away "I can scream as loud as I want here, no one will listen. Wanna try it?"

"How do I do that?" you asked, searching for the function among the million buttons on the sound mixer panel.

"Just turn the volume down, all of it."

And so you did. As you turned the volume down, it was getting harder and harder to hear what he said, until you couldn't hear a word. He only realized you couldn't hear him when he saw the surprise on your face, caused by the magic of the acoustic room. You could tell by his facial expression that he was laughing, and you laughed as well.

He made a gesture with his hand, like he asked you if you could hear him. You answered through the mic:

"I can't hear anything! This is amazing!"

He smiled and made another gesture, as if he was inviting you to the acoustic room. You quickly removed your earphones and walked to the door, thinking it would be your turn to stay there as he played with the sound.

When you opened the door, Jake immediately pulled you inside and shut the door with both of you inside. Then, he pressed you against the wall, pinning both of your wrists against it over your head.

You couldn't help but feeling surprised, after all, Jake had never acted like this before. He had always been romantic and careful, so you were pretty curious about his sudden dominating attitude.

He approached his face to yours, whispering close to your ear:

"Wanna test the acoustic of the room's acoustics?"

His tone was everything but innocent. You finally understood where he was getting to, so you decided to play his game.

"How can we test it?" you answered, faking innocence, and he smiled at your acting. So he put his leg in the middle of yours, gently rubbing his thigh against your groin and pressing you even harder agains the foamy wall.

"We can try it the best way possible."

After he said it, he kissed you deeply. His hands let go of your wrists and slowly slid down your arms, all the way to your neck. One of his hands held the back of your head and the other choked you slightly, but strong enough to make breathing a little harder. Your arms, now free of his grip, curled arould his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

The kiss was getting hotter. You felt the hand that held your neck go down to your waist, and the hand on the back of your head gently pull your hair, bringing your head back and making you moan softly. Jake stopped kissing you and smirked, watching your pleasure face.

"They might see us through the glass!" you said, but he didn't pay much attention as he immediately returned to kiss your lips.

"I don't care" he answered, and although it was a bit scary, the fear of getting caught was also thrilling and exciting.

Your neck was completely exposed now, inviting Jake's silky lips which left soft kisses on your skin, making their way to your ear lobes where he gently nibbled. It sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps on your skin, something Jake noticed and made sure to show he enjoyed.

"You like this, huh?" he whispered in your ear. You nodded with a small moan, still a little overwhelmed by the situation, but certainly enjoying it.

Jake went back to kissing your neck, now a little faster. The tiny threads of growing beard on his jaw scratched your face, the sensation was even more arousing. You were so focused on that that only later you realized that his hand wasn't on your waist anymore, but was grabbing your ass.

Your body was warm, but you had chills. The mix of sensations Jake was causing on you gave you so much pleasure, but at the same time it was torturous. It wasn't enough, you wanted more and he knew that, but he wanted to keep you waiting.

Jake put both on his hands on your ass, squeezing it hard and making you moan softly. But after a short period, you felt his hands leave the place, which surprised you. Only then you realized he was taking off your jeans jacket and tossing in on the floor. The black tank top you were wearing left your collarbone and your shoulders exposed, which was exactly what Jake's lips were looking for. But before he went back to what he was doing, he took a good look at your newly exposed body part. His eyes traveled from your face to your breasts and there they stood, what got you a little embarassed.

"You're so hot, did you know that?" he whispered, staring even harder at your cleavage and then at your eyes. You smiled and blushed. The way he said those things made you feel a way no other man had ever managed to do to you. "You don't have to feel ashamed..." he said, smirking at your reaction.

His lips met yours again, but only for a short period of time. They quickly moved to your collarbone. His hands were now were wandering around your whole body, moving from your neck to your shoulders, back, waist and ass, as if he was desperate to feel you. Which was amazing, because you were eager to feel his hands all over you.

You also wanted to feel him, so you did as he did: you took one of your hands to the back of his hand and slightly pulled back some of his long brown hair, what made him moan and smile in response. Your other hand traveled through his chest, gently dragging your nails around the small part of exposed skin. My god, he looked so hot in that purple jacket. The only way he could look hotter than that would be without it.

You started to slowly unbutton the shirt, which made him stop kissing you and look at you with a naughty smirk.

"So much hurry!" he giggled.

"You take mine off, I take yours, that's how it works" you answered, winking at him.

He helped you take off his shirt and toss it on the floor, next to your jacket. You enjoyed the view of his shirtless body, staring at it just like he did to you before, sliding your nails and digging them on his torso. He held your hand over his chest, looking deep into your eyes. you were expecting him to say something nasty, but instead he just went back to kissing you, now even more intensely.

He embraced your waist and pulled you closer to him, as if it were possible. Then, his hands slowly moved upwards, passing through your waist and reaching your breasts. He squeezed them softly, making you moan. Your skin, that was already shivered, got even more chills under his touch. You weren't wearing a bra, which made your nipples appear through your shirt. Jake noticed and liked it, since he touched and tweaked them over the thin cloth. At this moment, you were already wet and impacient, but you were only getting a small portion of Jake's sexual expertise.

"Jake..." you moaned in agony between his kisses, suffering with his touches over your clothes. Although it was very hot, the throbbing sensation in your groin was starting to feel unbearable and painful.

"I know, babe" he answered, resting his forehead on yours, without ceasing to fondle your breasts "you're eager, but I'm only getting started."

Hearing that made the situation of your arousal even worse, to the point where if he decided to just lift your skirt and fuck you at that moment you wouldn't even feel pain, so horny and ready you were. He went back to kissing you, never letting your breasts go. But suddenly, you felt him pull your shirt up and reveal your stomach.

He kept on pulling it, enough that your breasts dropped down from your top, due to how tight it was. He watched that pornographic scene without blinking, dazzled. Rapidly he went back to fondling your breasts, only now he took his lips to one of your nipples.

He sucked it gently, making you let go a pleasurable moan. Glad with your reaction, he kept on sucking it, sometimes licking, nibbling and kissing. He moved to the right breast, but without stopping to give attention to the left one, playing with the nipple with his thumb. The saliva he left on the thin skin of your nipple in contact with the air made you feel a little bit cold, but it gave you pleasure.

Jake took his time there, enjoying the sensation he was causing you. You, on the other hand, dig your nails a bit deeper all over his back, feeling his skin also get goosebumps.

Jake finishing sucking your nipples and went back to kissing your lips. He took off your top with a bit of hurry, tossing it on the floor and then pulling you closer to him by your waist. His hands were now back on your ass, but now he started to lift your skirt.

"This short skirt of yours... I spent the whole day thinking about lifting it and fucking you" he said, holding the cloth with the tip of his fingers and raising it slowly. The fingers that lifted the fabric softly scratched your thighs and your hip, making you shiver.

Jake saying those things made your legs tremble with pleasure. You didn't know how good it felt to hear that dirty-talk until it was Jake whispering it to you.

"I wore it thinking about it" you answered, what made him smile in a sexy and predatory way at the same time.

When he lifted your skirt high enough, he slid his right hand over your thigh. He gently slid back and forth towards your groin, torturing you with the desire of his touch. He looked you deep in the eyes with a serious expression, like he was in control of the situation. When you couldn't stand the teasing anymore, he caressed your pussy over your panties.

"Wow, you're soaking wet... I didn't know it was that easy to make you horny, baby."

You looked at him, almost not believing what you had just heard. After half an hour of teasing, he thought it was easy?

"Jake, please..." you moaned in desperation as he now rubbed your clit over the thin lacy fabric.

"I know, love, I'll give you what you want."

Jake pulled your panties down and slid his index finger between your fold, reaching your clit. You were so wet it was slippery inside you, making his job even easier. He then started to rub your clit in slow and circle motions.

You let go a fairly loud moan and, out of embarassment, you covered your mouth with your hand. He took your hand out of your mouth and pinned it against the wall behind you.

"Moan all you want, no one's gonna hear us. Moan loud for me."

And so you did. The harder he rub your clit, the more pleasure you felt and the more you moaned in his ear. He, who was also feeling pleasure, had his lips parted, watching you squirm against the wall.

Jake increased the speed with which he masturbated you, driving you insane. But you also wanted to torture him. Therefore, catching him by surprise, you took your hand to the huge bulge in his pants. He wasn't expecting that, but he enjoyed it.

You stroked his cock, that was very enhanced outside his pants. You were surprised with its lenght.

"You did this to me" he said, grabbing your hand and rubbing it harder against his dick.

But you didn't last for too long, since Jake's expertise in masturbating you was making your legs shake so you couldn't concentrate in anything but your own pleasure. You kept on moaning ach time louder until your orgasm finally hit. The pulsation made you almost scream.

You couldn't help but feel a little embarassed, but the look on his face comforted you and made you realize there was nothing to be ashamed of, since the man was clearly enjoying it.

He removed his fingers from your pussy and licked them. what made you feel another throb of pleasure. Next, he deeply kissed you.

"Fuck, your moans are so hot" he whispered in your ear. You couldn't answer him, since you were still recovering your breath.

Although you didn't say a word, you went back to stroking his erection. Gladly, he let you masturbate him over his clothes, torturing him as he had done to you.

"It's your turn to suffer" you said, and he smirked in response.

"This is nothing, I've been suffering since I first saw you in those tight clothes, your tits almost bursting out of that small top of yours. It was hard to hide how hard I was" he answered, gently pulling your hair behind your back so he could delight himself again with the sight of your naked breasts.

You rolled your eyes, giggling. He always had an answer on the tip of his tongue. But the fact that he said he got an erection only by looking at your cleavage made you feel powerful and sexy.

You kept masturbating him over the thick fabric of his pants, watching him twitch out of pleasure. After a few minutes, you removed his leather belt, tossing it on the floor together with the rest of your clothes. Next, he unzipped his pants himselft and lowered it a little, just enough so that you could see the bulge on his boxers. You could see the tip of his cock, since it had scaped the prison of its tight black fabric, which was already wet with his precum.

You licked your lips at the sight of his rigid cock. You wanted to suck it, but you would make him wait, just like he did to you. You stroked it over his underwear, which was way thinner and allowed you to move up and down much more easily. Jake was panting, anticipation taking over both of your bodies.

When he couldn't stand it anymore, he grabbed your hand and put it inside his underwear, surprising you.

"Couldn't handle it?" you laughed.

"I need to feel you" he murmured, almost out of breath.

So you masturbated him, now inside his underwear. You started off slowly, gently touching the tip of his cock with your thumb. It was wet with eagerness. You then started to move more quickly, but the fabric of his underwear was making the job a little difficult, so you impaciently pulled it down, completely revealing his penis. Now that you could see it completely, you masturbated him even faster.

You looked at his face saw the expression of pure pleasure, small groans escaping from his mouth. You smirked and he smirked back, pleased with how much fun you were having while touching him so intimately. You then looked back at his cock and realized you couldn't take it any longer: you had to suck him off.

When he noticed you were getting down on your knees, his eyes widened up in anticipation. Knowing what was about to happen, he helped you take off his pants and underwear and took off his shoes, tossing it all on the floor. Then, he grabbed all of your hair and held it tightly in the back of your head, not letting any strand of it get in the way of you doing your job, but at the same time being able to mildly control your movements.

You slowly licked his entire shaft from the base to the tip, making him shiver and moan. Next, you placed your lips around its head, gently sliding his whole cock inside your mouth. When it reached your throat you gagged, but you kept going. Starting off with slow movements and then increasing the speed, sometimes licking, sometimes kissing, sometimes harder, sometimes easier, sometimes just masturbating it while you gathered some air. With one hand you stimulated it, with the other you grabbed his butt. You looked him in the eyes, knowing he was enjoying it. His pleasure facial expression was incredible, only making you want to suck him even more.

You kept going, so eagerly you reached a very high speed, but it didn't last long. He gently pushed your head away from his cock and pulled you up, asking you to stand up.

"If you keep going like that, I won't stand for long, babygirl..." he murmured, catching some air.

"Sorry, I guess I got carried away..." you said while wiping your lips with your hand, making him giggle.

"Don't ever apologize for giving me the best head I've ever got."

Jake gave you a deep and sloppy kiss. Next, he is the one who went on his knees.

Jake laid kisses on your chin, neck, the middle of your breasts, your tummy and, after taking off your skirt and your boots and throwing them on the floor, he kissed your groin. Your body shivered in anticipation, nervous with what was about to happen.

Jake lifted one of your legs up and laid it over his shoulder, in a way he could be face-to-face to your entrance.

Before he got started, he looked up deep into your eyes, grinned and held your hip firmly with one of his hands, while the other squeezed the thigh that laid on his shoulder so tightly you had marks of it the day after.

Jake touched his tongue gently on your entrance, spreading your lips allowing his to explore your pussy. His hot and wet tongue in contact with your soaking folds sent shivers through your whole body, and several others followed it when he started to lick your clit.

The sensation was even better than the one he caused you with his fingers. Which was surprising, since he was a guitar player, you always thought he would be better with his hands. Turns out Jake Kiszka was god with incredible with string instruments and even more skilled in pleasing a lady.

He kept licking your clit, now harder. You, who were already having trouble standing on one leg while getting your pussy eaten like that, reached a tripod that stood nearby, dropping the microphone from it. Your other hand grabbed his light brown hair tightly between your fingers, trying to hold up to something and not lose grip from reality. You two were making a mess in the studio but you didn't mind, for he continued to go down on you and you kept moaning as loud as you could.

But it didn't stop there.

Jake slowly inserted his index finger inside you. You felt your walls clench around his finger as he moved it up and down, hitting your g-spot so easily you regretted not doing this earlier. The mix of sensations his tongue on your clit and his finger inside you were causing on you combined drove you insane. At this point, you were moaning so loudly you completely forgot where you two were. Your eyes were closed and all you could say was Jake's name between groans and breaths.

Jake inserted another finger and started to estimulate you really rapidly, as fast as he was sucking on your clit. Your pleasure had become unbearable and your second orgasm hit like a tsunami, wetting even more your folds and Jake's tongue. Although you had shown him he could stop so you two could move on, he didn't want to. He didn't stop, never allowing your orgasm to reach its end and making your legs shake uncontrollably.

When he thought he had enough he started to slow his movements down, for your relief. When he finally stopped, he laid a soft kiss on your wet entrance as a demonstration of affection and stood up, immediately kissing your lips making you taste your own bitter juices.

"You taste so delicious" he whispered between your lips "I can't get enough of it."

You two kissed once more, now more romanticaly and tenderly. When you two finally caught some breath, you looked at each other and smiled, excited with what was about to happen next.

He then grabbed your hair very firmly, bringing goosebumps to your skin. Next, he whispered in your ear:

"Are you sure you want it?" he asked, you thought it was sweet of him to ask for verbal consent.

"Yeah" you answered, embarassingly anxious.

"Then ask for it."

As he said it, he turned you over, making you face and lean against the wall, your back completely exposed to him. He still had his hand holding your hair very tightly. You moan at his dominance.

He bent you over in a way your ass was tilted up for him. He enjoyed the sight of it, caressing and squeezing it really hard. Next, he rubbed his hard cock over your entrance. You arched your back even more, feeling exposed like that felt hot and thrilling. The sensation of his entire lenght rubbing against your wet folds was torturous.

"Ask for it" he repeated impaciently.

"F-fuck me" you stuttered, nervously enjoying him telling you what to do.

"I can't hear you" he rubbed his cock against you even harder.

"Fuck me, goddamnit!" you shouted, feeling obligated to put all shame aside to please that wonderful bossy man.

"Good" he said in a husky voice, seeming pleased.

Jake finally put the tip of his cock inside you, slowly so your walls could adjust to his size. It wasn't necessary to wait for too long, since you were so horny and ready that he slipped right in. When his entire lenght slid inside you, you felt chills run from your neck to your back. Finally feeling Jake inside you was incredible.

Jake started to fuck you, increasing the speed bit by bit. You impaciently start to move your hips in his direction, showing him he could go faster.

"Oh, you want more, you slut?" he asked, squeezing and then slapping your ass, what would leave a red mark on the next day.

"Yeah..." you moan.

Jake then did as you asked, increasing the speed. You were now fucking really hard, his cock moving in and out of you at a rapid pace. The pressure of his shaft hitting deep into you gave you so much pleasure your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, and your moans had become screams.

Jake slapped your ass again. The pain was intense but extremely hot. He, looking for more pleasure, pulled your hair back even more while his other hand reached one of your breasts, which shook due to the harsh movements you were making. Jake's groans were low, but vibrant and rough. He moaned your name while gasping for air.

"Your pussy feels so tight, so good."

Then, for your surprise, he got out of you. You turned over to him to see what was going on, but he pulled you to the floor before you could say anything. He lied on the floor and placed you on top of him, then putting his arms under his head and laying down, enjoying the view of your completely naked body on top of his.

"Ride me" he commanded, and you obeyed without question.

You began to ride him, getting used to the position before doing it faster. As soon as you managed to find balance, you started to ride him really quickly. That position hit different a different spot inside you, and you could see by Jake's expression that it hit different for him too.

You were fucking him so hard Jake was cursing between his breaths. He put one of his hands on your butt to guide the movements as he wanted to and the other hand on your right breast, holding it and squeezing it. You two kept that position for a while, looking deep in each other's eyes, chills running through your spines.

Jake wanted to change positions again, laying you under him. For the first time you could feel how harsh the carpet felt under your soft skin, only then remembering the place the two of you were. But that didn't matter. Jake leaned on his knees and pulled one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder and going back to fuck you again.

That position was taking you to heaven, what seemed impossible. To make it even better, Jake began to estimulate your clit with his thumb while he slid his cock in and out of you. At that moment, any drop of sanity that you still had disappeared.

"Yes!" you moaned, biting your lower lip.

"Fuck!" he hissed, sweat running down his beautiful face.

He kept fucking you in that position, which didn't take long to make you come for the third time in a row. Your orgasm made you scream and moan his name for the millionth time that afternoon, and that was driving him insane.

"I'm gonna cum" he said, increasing the speed with which he fucked you, not allowing your orgasm to end. The noise your hips crashing against each other was so loud it filled the room.

Jake reached his limit, letting his fluids fill you up inside. You, still experiencing your multiple orgasms, enjoyed the sensation the hot liquid mixed with the bliss caused you. The two of you began to slow the pace, until you fully stopped. Jake laid over you, without pulling out. You two were dripping in sweat, his hair all messy and glued to his forehead.

The both of you stood there for a while, catching your breath. He caressed your hair and you stroked his back. When you could finally breathe again, Jake looked you in the eye and you both giggled in complicity.

Jake pulled out and lied next to you on the carpet while holding your hand.

"This was..." he said.

"Wow..." you said.

You two laughed for having spoken at the same time. You two stood there for a long time, staring each other in the eyes. His dark brown eyes sparkled with joy and both of you were enjoying the serotonin the intimate moment you two had just shared produced, cuddling.

"I think I'm falling for you" Jake said, breaking the silence.

You couldn't hide your surprise in hearing that declaration, but you gave him a big smile in response.

"Me too" you said, unable to contain the huge smile on your face.

"Phew!" he said, laughing "This means we will be able to do this more often."

"Obviously. But can we do it in a more comfortable place next time? This carpet is so rough!"

"You didn't like the studio? But we can make as much noise as we want in here!" he said, comically offended by your preference of having sex somewhere else.

"It has its advantages, yes, but I bet it can't be better than Egyptian silk sheets on a king-sized bed" you said, convinced you knew better than him.

"Okay, you've got a point. But I can't promise I'll be able to provide the Egyptian silk sheets and a king-sized bed by tonight."

You hit his arm and laughed, glad for having found such an amazing partner.

#jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf imagine #jake gvf #jake imagines #smut #one shot

[vicious-vixxxen]

Kirishima x Male!Reader: First ‘I Love You’

I’m back on my Kirishima shit, so just bare with me- he really is one of my fav bois, and he’s just so sweet, can you even blame me? Though I’m almost finished with season 4 finally, and Tamaki is quickly closing in as the bestest sweet boi ;)  But yes, enjoy this little blurb, as I continue working on actual prompt fills- I just keep getting distracted, don’t @ Me  Enjoy <3  Kirishima x Male!Reader

Saturday nights in the dorms usually went one of two ways. Most of, if not all of class 1A were walking corpses, after accepting an extra day of training, not often offered by Aizawa in the first place: which is why they all usually accepted. Though that usually meant back at the dorms by two, and once everyone was showered, given a chance to finally catch their breath, and come together to make dinner, it was pushing six, and by then everyone was taking a note out of Bakugou’s book and crashing early. Some not even making it back to their rooms- sprawling out across the common area, and groggily rising too early the next morning, stiff necked and a little grumpy. /But/, if classes let out normally on Friday, and everyone was in bed at a reasonable enough time, Saturday’s were the absolute SHIT. A group breakfast to start, always. Bakugou aggressively whipping together a horde of spicy cinnamon french toast, and bacon, everyone stuffing their faces, discussing the previous week’s accomplishments. Areas in need of improvement, etcetera. Though without the added pressure of being in the midst of classes, and homework. They could reflect calmly, gather and offer tips, all smiles and jokes and general good naturedness. After breakfast, everyone split off to get ready for the day. Keeping the dorm stocked was a responsibility up to you all, which meant splitting the allotted weekly allowance the class was given, and separating into groups to get all the shopping for the coming week done. Groceries, cleaning supplies, toiletries, /unmentionables/. You all worked as a group, and allowing for a few stray hours of wandering, and personal shopping, visiting with family, you’d all be back around five. With the groceries put away, all errands run, the dorm dissolved into pure chaos. Different types of music blaring from individual rooms- dance dance revolution set up in the common room, the loudest of them all- all the dorm room doors open, save for Tokoyami’s, of course- and passing by any would give you a curious glimpse into the comfortable life the occupants had taken up there. “Wanna help me...ya know?” Kiri whispered into your ear, standing behind the sofa, bent down to nuzzle your temple, and speak. Blushing lightly, and giving you a sharp, lopsided grin as you broke your gaze from Denki’s...bold choice in dance movements against Mina. Noting Kirishima’s gaze moving up and down, before he jerked his head back in the direction of his room. Oh. Guess it was time for a touch up, huh?

Grin to match, you nodded, taking Kiri’s hand when he offered it, and allowing him to tug you up and over the sofa, nearly tripping over each other in your haste to get back to his room. Thirty minutes later, with a look of concentration on your face, you gently applied hair dye to the other boy’s roots. Hips swaying left and right, as Kirishima tapped his feet, and played air drums dramatically- making it difficult, but not impossible for you to get at all his roots. This was routine at this point. Ever since the two of you had started dating the year before, Kirishima was quick to let you in on his hair care secrets. It was only a matter of time before you caught him with a little bit of black peeking through, so rip the bandaid off all at once, Kirishima thought. It really was adorable how concerned he’d been over it. Muttering like Midoriya, before standing tall and announcing you’d have to love him for his box dye, or not at all! And here you were. Touching up his roots for maybe the hundredth time? If he needed any more clarification. The moron. But he was your moron. Getting more aggressive in his drumming, no doubt trying to mimic Bakugou in his mind, the hopeless goof. You smiled, despite yourself, as the song switched over, and you tilted Kirishima’s head back to get at the front you’d sectioned off. Mouthing the remix down at your boyfriend, and closing your eyes briefly as the beat pumped, and your body felt relaxed enough to collapse. But in a totally cool way, not like, a narcoleptic way. You hoped. ‘I will always love you,” you breathed in time, voice barely audible over the array of noises in, and outside of the dorm, but Kirishima watched, enraptured, mouth slightly agape as he read your lips. ’-I’ll love you forever’ you continued. Opening your eyes again, and staring down at Kiri’s. Breath hitching as you took in his pure, unadulterated admiration. And…. “Mmph!” Kirishima hummed suddenly, against your lips, as you’d leaned down to kiss him- both of you giggling against each other’s lips afterwards, as you moved around him. Careful of your gloved hands, and the brush of dye in hand, as you straddled the boys lap, and scooted forward till you were comfortable. Kirishima’s hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist. Palms sliding up and around to rub your back, as you continued applying dye top his hair. The two of you were quiet after, taking in the sounds of the dorms, and feeling the music blaring through Kirishima’s radio. Until you’d finished applying the dye, finally, and set your tools aside. Peeling off your gloves, and wiggling your sweaty fingers in Kiri’s face. Laughing suddenly as he nipped at them with sharp teeth. “That felt like a threat,” You teased, wrinkling your nose cutely at your boyfriend- Kirishima, ever the fan of the expression, beaming up at you, and kissing at your collarbone, where your shirt had ridden down. “That’s me, the boyfriend eater. Hide your boyfriends or i’ll gobble em up, all manly like”, Kiri boasted, and you couldn’t help but snort- having to restrain yourself from running your hands through his hair. For now. “We both know you’re tasty enough,” Kirishima added, winking at you, and you rolled your eyes, smacking the boys chest gently, before wrapping your arms carefully around his neck, and shifting back and forth in his lap to the new rhythm from the radio. At some point though, as you stared down at Kirishima- matching grins on your faces, as Kiri raised a hand to boop at your nose, and your lips, something hot, and happy ran through you. A sudden realization, as you stared into those gorgeous red pools he called eyes. It seared through you, racing down your spine, and jolting you up in your boyfriend's lap so suddenly, he paused- always on red alert, brows raised in question. It had never been something either of you had worried about saying- had never even truly discussed it. You cared about each other deeply, your connection since beginning your journeys at UA unprecedented. You’d watched each other grow, been there for the ride. Helped each other. Loved each other. Because you did love Kirishima. And he knew that...but not until just then, the scent of dye clinging to the air, did you realize you were, in fact, in love with him. You were in love with Kirishima. Wow. Your face was unreadable for a few long moments, before you huffed- almost in disbelief- and kissed at Kiri’s questioning thumb, now brushing along your jaw, and lips. “What? Kirishima asked finally, unable to take the silence. “Just realizing how absolutely, unequivocally in love I am with you. Kinda jarring,” You admitted, candid as ever, noting the way Kirishima froze beneath you. Mouth agape, and eyes wide. “Was that lame?” You asked as an afterthought, lips slowly pulling into a grin as Kirishima opened and closed his mouth several times, before his hands found their way up and around your jaw. Hesitating again, just a moment, as through the process what he;d just heard once more- before smashing your lips together. Heat, and passion, and love, all pouring into that one intimate gesture, and fuck it. Your hands carded through the sticky red dye clinging to the boy's roots, as you kissed back. Kissing until you absolutely couldn’t breathe anymore, and breaking away to pant, though only centimeters away from each other’s mouths. Foreheads pressed together, red dye smearing between the two of them, completely forgotten. “I love you too,” Kirishima sighed, hugging you close, and peppering your face with kisses. “So, so much. Love you so much, holy- I love you? Haha! I love you! I love you!” He shouted, bringing a deep blush to your cheeks, almost as red as your forehead now was as you wondered idly if anyone could hear him. Until you realized, you didn’t give one shit if they did. “I love you too! Again!” You shouted back, bursting into a fit of laughter with Kirishima, as you kissed again. And again, and again, and again.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #eijiro kirishima #kirishima #eijiro kirishima imagine #eijiro kirishima x male reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima x male reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #viciousvixxxen

[imaginethatneathuh]

Silence: Elijah Mikaelson - TVD/TO (Request)

Elijah Mikaelson x partner!reader, romantic

Elijah is upset with you for drinking so much and the two of you fight.

Request from Wattpad.

TW/CW: Drinking, controlling partner, fear, might be something else I've forgotten.

Word count: 2.4+ K

Completely unedited.

•

Swaying to the music and feeling the hot bodies around you, you smiled. The Mystic Grille back home was great and all, but places like this, places no one cares about who you are and you can let loose, are the absolute best. Though that may be the alcohol talking.

You had five, maybe six, shots. Plus, of course, a fuck ton of beers prior to said shots.

Despite Elijah’s warning, one you didn’t really care to listen to, you had gone out.

Kol, of course, came along for the ride. After all, if his brothers wouldn’t let him have any real fun, then he’d tag along with you and find some trouble of his own.

A pair of hands rested on your sides.

The contact of someone you knew wasn’t your partner caused you to turn around in fear.

Kol stood there, smirking.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me, love,” he said, shouting over the music.

Realizing it was him, you relaxed and smiled.

“I wanna do more shots,” you said, bouncing around.

Kol laughed. “You keep this up, I might not be able to get you home without Elijah knowing.”

“Shots, Kol, shots,” you said, dragging him to the bar. “We are doing them.”

Kol allowed you to pull him along, smiling. “God, Elijah is going to kill me in the morning.”

“What?” You asked, not hearing him.

The bartender smiled politely at someone and handed them a martini.

The bright lights of the club’s neon lined bar reflected off Kol’s pale skin, making you giggle slightly.

The bartender smiled, placing their hands on the edge of the bar.

“What can I do for you?” They asked.

“Shots!” You shouted, continuing to bounce.

Kol nodded, giving the bartender a polite smile.

“Water them down a bit, will ya?” He asked, leaning over the bar slightly.

The bartender looked at you then back at him before nodding.

“Gotcha,” they said.

•

Kol, with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding your arm over his shoulder, made his way to the front door of your place.

“Come on,” Kol said. “We’re almost there.”

You laughed.

“Almost pear,” you said, still laughing.

Kol smiled a little, shaking his head.

As the two of you reached the door, Kol tried to grab your keys from your pocket but failed. You moved away from him, giggling.

“Y/N,” he said. “Let me get the keys.”

He tried getting them again but you moved away, landing against the wall and falling, all while giggling.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, smiling at him in your drunken state.

Kol sighed and tiredly smiled at you. He picked up the keys that had fallen out when he fell.

“Come on, love.” He reached for you but you crawled away on all fours. “Y/N, you need to go to bed. Elijah --”

“He is not my daddy,” you said, crossing your arms and pouting.

The drizzle from earlier made its home on your trousers.

Kol glared at your childish actions. But he couldn’t really fault you for that. He would have acted the same way and besides, you were drunk. Most people do and/or say stupid shit like that. It wasn’t surprising, really.

While talking, neither noticed Elijah as he walked over.

“Am I not?” He asked, causing Kol to whip around.

Eyes wide, Kol’s mouth opened to say something but Elijah held up his hand.

“You can go,” Elijah said, his gaze only leaving you for a split second to look at his brother.

Kol shrugged and tossed him the keys.

Elijah caught them with one hand.

Instead of walking over and helping you up, he walked to the door. He didn’t even bother to say anything as he did so.

“Elijah,” you called.

He ignored you.

“Eeeliijaah,” you called again.

He kept ignoring you as he unlocked it.

Pouting, you got up but stumbled. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you fell. The ground wouldn’t be so bad to sleep on. Sure, you’d be wet in the morning, but you’ve done it before.

Elijah stood at the, now open, door.

Of course, he wanted to go back and pick your drunk-self up. He was your partner and did love you very much. Even if you had directly and purposefully disobeyed him.

After fighting with himself for a good minute, he went back and picked you up. But, using his vampire-speed, the two of you went inside and he tossed you on the sofa.

You sunk into the soft, blanket covered sofa, grinning. Though the ground and grass of your front lawn was fine to sleep on, a sofa was definitely better. Not as good as your bed, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“I knew you loved me,” you mumbled, pulling one of the throw pillows into your grip and quickly falling asleep.

•

At the Mikealson’s place, you relaxed in one of the sofas, hiding your face from the sunlight. As much as you enjoyed the relative silence of the house, you hated how open the rooms with sofas were. But, it wasn’t that bad.

There was this crushing force being applied to your skull from pretty much all angles. Since you got onto the soft, warm, comforting sofa, you hadn’t left. Every time you moved, the ground under you felt like it was swaying and you wanted to puke. The mere mention of eating also had a similar effect. The feelings were slowly diminished, but not as much as you wished they had.

Elijah, your current partner and favourite person, walked into the area of the house you were desperately trying to sleep in. He said nothing as he poured a glass of alcohol.

The mere sound of it made you cringe.

You pulled the blankets tighter around your body. “Do you wanna join me? I could use some cuddles.”

He didn’t say a word.

“Elijah?” After realizing he wasn’t going to respond, your shoulders slumped. “Is this because I got drunk?”

His silence spoke volumes as to what he was getting at.

“You’re really going to give me the silent treatment because I wanted to have some fun?”

He sipped the dark liquor from his glass, turned away from you.

“Okay, fine. Two can play at that game.” You fell back into the sofa and buried yourself.

If he was going to ignore you, you would ignore him, too.

•

Several weeks passed by and he still hadn’t talked to you. It was really starting to get under your skin, but Elijah seemed cool as a cucumber. As always.

Happily, you threw your arms around Kol’s neck. He was sitting on the sofa, making it that much easier.

“I’m bored,” you said, pouting.

He flipped the page of his book. “Your point?”

Straightening, you smiled. “Let’s go to a club or something! I want to party.” You mimed dancing, tossing your hands into the air like you just don’t care.

Kol laughed and set his book down. ‘You sure? Elijah still hasn’t talked to you since last time and that was weeks ago.”

You nodded, still dancing to nothing.

“Fine, but he gets pissed again, don’t go blaming me,” he said as he got up.

•

The pulsing music felt good as you swayed to it like there was no one else there. It felt good in your soul. The three or four drinks you’d had definitely helped loosen you up. They let you move to the music in a way you usually wouldn’t which is just what you needed.

Kol, instead of dancing with you, sat at your table and watched, drinking and smiling. A few girls had taken peaks at him. When he looked over at them and smirked, they giggled and looked away. The Original had that effect on people, especially girls.

Someone comes up from behind and starts dancing with you, getting a little too touchy for your liking.

You turnt to Kol, giving him a look that said “help”.

He nodded and stood, leaving his empty glass on the table.

Before Kol could reach you, someone else pulled the stranger away.

“What the fuck, dude?” The rando asked.

Elijah cooley glared at them before turning to you. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, no, fuck that, you can’t make me do shite,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m having a good time and I ain’t about to let you ruin that.”

The two of you glared at each other for a while before Elijah grabs you and drags you away.

“Elijah!” You yelp as he pulls you along, his strength far exceeding your own.

Kol hoped that the two of you would actually talk about Elijah’s overprotectiveness so the hostility between the two of you would go the fuck away and he wouldn’t be stuck between you two anymore.

•

The bouncer for the club watched as Elijah dragged you away but said nothing. Still, he watched on with narrow eyes.

You turnt back and waved goodbye with a smile. It was your way of letting him know you were fine.

He nodded to you, a polite smile on his face.

Elijah dragged you along to his car, opening a door for you.

“I’m not getting in,” you said.

Elijah sighed. “I do not wish to compel you, my love, but I will if I must.”

The defiance you tried to keep up faded as you got into the passenger seat of the black sedan.

•

Elijah sipped on a glass of whiskey, sitting on the sofa in the living room. His suit jacket lay over the arm and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

When he had found you gone, he wasn’t surprised but still the anxiety of your disappearance had made him feel like puking.

Despite his rather cold actions toward you lately, he loved you more than he had loved anyone else in his life. He’d said it before about other lovers in the past, and he had loved them greatly at the time, just as he did with you now. But now is slightly different to back then. Now, there were other monsters he had to fear, ones that could find him and, more importantly, his family much easier than before. That family now included you and you had no way to protect yourself from the horrors his family had to face.

He mentally slapped himself for even considering being with a human.

With all the dangers of just being around supernatural creatures like himself, being with one romantically was even more dangerous.

Elijah downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down. He leant back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

“So, what?” You said, walking into the room. “You can drink, but I can’t?”

Elijah sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t feel the effects the same as you do, my love,” he said. “I’ve also had one drink over the course of several hours, not a bunch over the course of not even an hour.”

You rolled your eyes.

In a random act of defiance, and right in front of Elijah, you poured yourself a glass of whiskey. It was your way of saying “fuck you, you controlling arsehole”.

He didn’t try to stop you, not even when you downed the entire glass.

“You should eat something. There are still leftovers in the fridge,” Elijah said.

Ignoring him, you poured another drink and downed it.

“My love,” he said. “Please, eat something before you go to bed. I can make you something if you wish.”

“Fuck you.”

The vampire sighed and rubbed his face. “Why are you like this?” He mumbled.

“Why do you have to be a controlling prick?”

He looked up as you drank more from the decanter containing whiskey. His jaw tightened but he said nothing.

“What? Can’t admit it so you ignore it?” You asked. “And I thought you were the mature one of the lot.”

Elijah stood and began to leave. “I’m going to reheat some leftovers for you. It’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”

“Don’t.”

He looked back. “Don’t what?”

“I want answers, Mikaelson, not fucking food.” You set the decanter down with a thud.

Turning back to you, Elijah sighed. “I’m rather tired, Y/N, can we do this tomorrow?”

“No. I want answers and I want them now. You’re being a total fucking control freak and I want to know why.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m not trying to be.”

You crossed your arms and scoffed. “Well, you are. I’m safe with Kol. He knows how to make sure I’m okay when I drink. I don’t need you butting in.”

Elijah got closer to you. He looked down before meeting your gaze, his voice hardening. “And what if he loses track of you at a club or bar? What if you find yourself in a dark alley? What if there’s someone there? Someone we’ve-- I’ve done wrongs to? What happens then?” He asked, torturing himself with the idea.

You looked him up and down, finally understanding what was going on in his head. “This isn’t about my drinking, is it?”

Elijah shook his head.

“Doll, why didn’t you just talk to me about it?” You asked, getting closer and taking his hand. “I’d be fine with drinking at home or somewhere you believe’s safe.”

He shrugged. Elijah, ever respectful, brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I hate thinking about it,” he whispered, pulling you in close. “I hate thinking about you getting hurt. When I sleep, it’s plagued by different scenarios, each one more horrific than the last. And even if I don’t, I still stay up and play and replay things that could happen to you.”

You kissed him softly on the forehead. “Elijah, you don’t have to worry about that. Not when my best friend is Kol Mikaelson and my beloved partner is Elijah fucking Mikaelson. What vampire, or witch, or werewolf, or whatever, in their right mind would try it?”

Elijah chuckled. “Not many of them are, my love.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll stop going out to clubs and bars and shite.”

He shook his head. “No, no. I was being too ‘over dramatic’, as Rebekah would say. Just, please, tell me and take Kol with you.” Elijah cupped your cheek and rubbed his thumb across your skin. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, smiling at him.

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #the vampire diaries #the originals

[yvaineseleneposts]

The Troubadour

Requested: no

A/N: This has to be my longest piece ever! I hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoyed it. There could be a few mistakes in there both in English and Italian, sorry in advance. I loved writing this, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I am a perfectionist and I have rewritten this about 5 times. I just needed to post it now!

Pairing: OC!Diana Bianchi & Damiano David

Words: 3k

Warning(s): swearing, drinking, smoking (I mean it’s the 70s…), smoking weed, my Italian (I have been studying this beautiful language for three years now but people make mistakes)

West Hollywood, California // Mid-January 1972

Red eyes.

Sweaty foreheads.

That is all Diana would see when they screamed at her. “CAN I GET TWO BEERS AND A COKE PLEASE?!”

Working behind the bar was not her dream job. Diana remembered it like it was yesterday, she and her friend Tami had gone to The Troubadour to celebrate the weekend when she saw a “help wanted” poster. It was a godsend. Diana applied there and then and not long after she found herself behind the bar, handing out drinks to people who looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Another plus side was the fact that she could attend the concerts of all the artists and bands for free.

Obviously, there were also downsides to this job. For example, Diana couldn’t go out and live her teenage years. She isn’t allowed to drink (too much) on the job and the hours aren’t exactly great. The pay is okay though and the tips are even better. Half of the people don’t even know how much they are giving and walk off like they didn’t just hand you 20 for an eight dollar drink. She doesn’t complain much about her job but she does feel left behind sometimes. Like when Tami or her other friend chat about some weird adventure they had the night before and who they met or kissed. Diana felt like she missed out on a lot of things but she had no other choice.

Her parents had kicked her out when she was 15. Diana moved in with her grandmother and lived with her for a while until she passed away. She has been living alone in her grandmother’s old apartment ever since. A few friends had moved in with her but then moved out again when they had found a better place to live. So it was just Diana paying the rent for the place.

 “CAN I GET A RUM AND COKE?!” Diana gets snapped out of her thoughts. Shit, what did he want?! She thinks to herself as she stares at the intoxicated man.  “SORRY?!” She shouts back over the loud music. At least she had another reason for not hearing the man.  “RUM AND COKE!” That is all the man yells before turning his band to her so he could face the stage. Some weird indie band is playing tonight. Diana wasn’t really into it and honestly couldn’t wait until her boss would send her home for the night. She puts in a little less rum, the man will probably not even taste the difference.

The band had stopped playing somewhere around two a.m. However not all the guests had left around 2.30 which is something Diana hated the most. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job but after so many hours standing on her feet, she wanted nothing more than to clean up, go home and get into her warm bed.

 “Diana, can you come here for a minute?” her boss asked. What was that tone, was he going to fire her?! “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” Pfew. Diana walked behind him into his office.

 “What can I help you with, Doug?” She asked as she sat down in the very comfortable chair across from him. Doug Weston had somewhat become her parent over the last few years that she had worked here. He was always so kind to her and could always ask him for help if she needed him.

 “I want to get more bands from across the sea. I want interesting people and not just the same bands playing over and over again. New talent that no one has heard of before but will become known because of this place. Inspire new talent, you know?” He was rambling on with his sales pitch as if you had any input, it was his place after all. “And seeing that you can speak more languages than I have ever could, I was wondering if you could write small pieces for newspapers in Europe that will inspire these artists to come here and get all the fame and fortune they want.”

 “Sure, Doug. You know I would do anything to help this place… and you of course”, Diana said while a wide grin spread on her face. She felt like she was moving up when in reality it wasn’t a new job position. She would do anything to not have the same indie bands playing almost every night. Diana would never have imagined that she would change the lives of four individuals barely six months later, and change her own life along with it.

Rome, Italy // Mid-March 1972

 “The Troubadour. The place where artists and bands from all over the world can make it or break it in the United States. It all depends on the crowd. If they love you, you can come back for an entire week! If not you will receive the money for that evening but sadly you won’t be allowed back. It’s always packed with record executives so you could get a sweet record deal out of this experience. Do you have what it takes? Sign up and good luck to everyone competing in the battle of the bands! – D. B.” Damiano finishes reading. “Ragazzi, I honestly cannot wait till we get to play there! It’s going to be veramente stupendo!”

 “Bene Damiano, calm yourself. It’s less than five months away. We still have to play in this dump to even afford to go. We barely have enough money for a motel, we don’t even have the plane tickets yet!” Classic Victoria, always worrying as if she is the mother of the group.  “Calmati Victoria, noi staremo bene”, Ethan jumps in. “Let’s get back to practising before we start another fight, sì?” The rest nods their head and pick up their instruments.  “I was thinking, should we start with I wanna be your slave oppuro no? Is it too much?” Damiano suggest.  “Oh, and for outfits, I have a few ideas?!” Thomas adds like a little kid who is excited for Christmas day.  “Positivo, let’s look at those after practice”, Damiano says. Not even ten minutes later they had many up a little setlist. It was a battle of the bands so they had to at least practice 4-5 songs to play against other bands. Then if they were allowed to come back they had to prepare yet another 6 songs on top of those 5 they had already played. They could do it, they had enough songs in their database but were they going to sing their Italian songs or did they have to translate them? The members of Måneskin weren’t sure yet. Luckily for them, they had four months to think about it.

West Hollywood, California // Mid-July 1972

Diana hadn’t even woken up yet, but on the other side of the city, Måneskin had arrived at the airport.  “Finalmente ci siamo. Ce l’abbiamo fatta!” Thomas exclaims. Damiano chuckles and throws an arm around Thomas’s shoulders.  “Slow down, loverboy. We have not made it yet. We landed yes, but we have a long way to go from here to that stage tonight.”  “How every grown-up of you, Damiano”, Victoria teases. “I bet with Ethan that you would follow the first American girl that you saw in this airport and that we wouldn’t see you until much later.”  “Ha ha, molto divertente, Victoria. Sei una persona così divertente.” They continue their bickering whilst Ethan collects all of their suitcases.   “Addiamo?” He finally asks the group, they all agree and make their way through the busy airport to the designated taxi area. During this, they complain about how crowded it is and how much the air smells. It is nothing like their own country but you have to take chances if you want to become famous like their dream.

Later that day

Doug had told Diana to come into work later than she usually would. It was going to be a busy night and he’d rather have her work during the performances than during the day and wear her out. So here she was around six-thirty instead of two o’clock. It felt so weird because usually when she arrives there is no line out front and now there was one to the end of the block. She passed all the people waiting in line, hearing them complain and moan as she walks up to Mario, the bouncer. He doesn’t even need to see her worker-id, as she walks in he wishes her good luck with tonight. She liked Mario, he was working here before she came and even then he had told her if she ever needed anything him and his wife had an extra bed for her. Honestly, the sweetest guy… also the toughest guy you will ever meet.

As Diana walked to the changing area to hang her coat and bag, she ran into a few participants of tonight’s show. She greeted most of them but they were too busy with themselves, the fame they hadn’t even earned yet was already rising to their heads. Before she could make her way to the bar, Doug called her over.

 “Diana, come here for a second. I want to introduce you to a few people.” Classic Doug, always introducing everybody to everybody. If he believed you could make it, he would introduce you to all his workers. However, the bands did not know this, the workers would treat them a little extra. “They are from Italy as well!” As if Diana herself had moved for their, it was actually her grandparents. She could speak a little Italian but other than her last name, there was nothing Italian about her. Doug briefly introduced the members of Måneskin to Diana, who couldn’t keep her eyes off a certain member. To be quite honest she had not remembered everyone’s names and she stumbled to get her name out of her mouth. All because she was already head over heels with this handsome, tall, young Italian man.

After a couple of introduction, Diana was finally behind her bar, her safe space. Meeting Damiano had made her weak in her knees, she had never had a reaction like this before. She didn’t really pay attention to the competitors and focused on serving the people but when it was Måneskin’s turn, she started to lose focus on her work.

During most of their setlist, Damiano kept glancing over to Diana and winking at her. Or at least that’s what it felt like for Diana. However, after a rather sexy song (let’s be real most of them are) he kissed one of his male bandmates on the mouth. Now Diana is not one to judge people on who they love. She reasons that everyone should love who they want to love and receive love because of it. It wasn’t that she hated it, it kind of turned her on, but she was very confused. Had she read the signs wrong? Were there even any signs to begin with? At times like these she wanted to ask Tami for help yet she was afraid that if Tami came and tried to help her that somehow Tami’s charm would work on Damiano and Diana would still end up with nothing. No, she had to do this on her own, she decided.

After the battle of the bands was over, a few stayed behind to talk with record labels about future arrangements. Diana started cleaning up, and washing and drying a few glasses, secretly listening in on a few conversations.

 “I liked what I saw out there. Let your agent call me and we will discuss your expansion in the United States.” Well, that sounded very good. Diana turned around to see who the band was that this man was talking to, but when she turned around she looked right into Damiano’s eyes.

 “I have been trying to get your attention all night”, he says shyly.  “Really? I thought so but I wasn’t sure”, Diana responds. Damiano raises his hand and scratches behind his head.  “I was wondering, you know. If maybe- ugh. Perchè è cosi difficile?” He mutters, not looking Diana in the eyes.  “Provalo in Italiano?” she suggests and Damiano’s eyes shoot up to meet hers.  “Cazzo. Parli Italiano?” He looks even more nervous now.  “Si, parlo Italiano.” He laughs at her answer.  “Vuoi uscire domani sera?” Diana nods her head, she honestly cannot stop smiling.  “I’d love to go out with you. Do you want me to pick you up at the hotel? That would be easier than you trying to find my house.”  “Yeah, sure. We’re staying at the Millwood Motel, it’s not too far from the airport.”  “Ah yes, I know that place. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leans over and kisses her cheek before leaving her to finish her work.

That night Diana barely slept. Did Damiano know any places here to take her to? Did she have to come up with a place? What if he was some weird guy? What if he was a murderer?! She sure was happy now that she didn’t give him her address. The following day she woke up around noon. She went to the kitchen and grabbed her Cona coffee maker, if she was to get through the day, she was going to need a big cup of coffee. She put water and coffee ground on the lower half of the pot and put it on the stove. She hated having to watch the coffee boil and couldn’t wait for better times when you would just have to push a button to get your coffee.

Seeing that she woke up around noon, it didn’t take long before Diana met up with Damiano. She asked him if he had anything specific in mind. Surprisingly, he did. He explained that he and his bandmates did a little sightseeing and they walked past a roller skating rink. Damiano always wanted to try that and he thought this would be perfect for their little date. Diana absolutely loved the idea and couldn’t wait till they got there.

Both of them were sad that the night had ended so quickly or so they thought. It was in fact 1 a.m. and they had already spend ten hours together. Diana brought Damiano back to the motel with her car and of course he couldn’t leave without planting a kiss on her lips. They kissed for a while before finally letting each other go.  “We’ll be leaving soon”, Damiano said and looked at their intertwined hands in his lap.  “Already? You just got here two days ago”, Diana complained. She just met him and now he is leaving already? She wasn’t prepared for that. She knew he was leaving at some point, he had to he didn’t live in the US, but still she had hoped for a little more time together.  “Maybe we’ll come back soon. We have a meeting with our agent and that record label guy tomorrow.”  “Could we meet up after? We should catch dinner together, I have another day off”, she suggested. Damiano agreed, kissed her one more time before leaving her car and making his way to his motel room.

The next day

Diana waited for Damiano in front of a large building. She was enjoying the sun on her face when she felt two arms coming from behind and hugging her on her stomach.  “Ciao, amore mio. Sei adorabile oggi”, Damiano said into her ear before kissing the side of her face.  “Ciao, you don’t look to bad yourself”, she said as she turned around. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on his lips, his mates cheering them on in the background. “How did it go in there?” With that question Damiano’s face broke out in a wide grin. “What?”  “Amore, we’re staying here in the US. We got a record deal, we will be here for the entire year!” he shouts and all five of them jump in celebration. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but I just couldn’t wait anymore. We can be together, amore.” Diana broke out in tears, nodding her head, for she had never met a man who she loved more than Damiano. Her Italian lover boy.

#damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano maneskin #damiano x reader #damiano david #victoria de angelis #victoria #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #victoria x reader #ethan #ethan maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan x reader #thomas #thomas raggi #thomas maneskin #thomas raggi x reader #thomas x reader #maneksin #måneskin #maneskin imagine #blurb #70s!maneskin #70s!måneskin #70s!damiano

[p---ink]

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. 

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival. 

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face. 

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised. 

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process.  When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return. 

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job? 

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love. 

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him. 

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil. 

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one. 

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids. 

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you. 

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest.  You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message. 

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day. 

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you. 

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!” 

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin. 

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet. 

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though. 

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him. 

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself. 

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent  ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes. 

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew. 

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it. 

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex. 

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?” 

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last. 

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say  “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub. 

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face. 

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy. 

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch. 

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips. 

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers. 

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch. 

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You  felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were. 

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up. 

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.” 

#Chris Evans smut #Chris Evans fluff #chris evans x reader #black reader #Chris evans #marvel smut #marvel fluff #captain america #Steve rogers #ransom drysdale

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

The Keep

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Merlin (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Elyan/Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Elyan/Gwaine (Merlin), Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Elyan/Percival (Merlin), Elyan & Gwaine & Percival & Leon (Merlin)

Characters: Elyan (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Percival (Merlin), Leon (Merlin)

Additional Tags: Episode: s05e01 Arthur's Bane, Established Relationship, Drinking, Kissing, Fluff, elyan and gwaine being little shits, literally all the other knights hate them bc they're so annoying, Long-Suffering Leon (Merlin), yk perelyaine are the main reason he suffers right, he can get away from merlin and arthur, but he spends most of his waking hours w these idiots, a trifle bittersweet if you think about the fact, that they're gonna be separated for six weeks soon, but believe me not as bittersweet as my orginal idea, actually fuck it this is an au, where nothign goes wrong in s5, Drunkenness, don't get drunk on tall buildings kids, honestly just don't do anything anyone does except leon, Cuddling & Snuggling

Words: 723

Read here or on Ao3!

Most times when Percival went on a night patrol without them, Elyan and Gwaine would wait for him on the keep that sat on the road into Camelot. They climbed up there while the guards were changing over and no one ever seemed to hear them once they were there.

Oh, and they brought several bottles of wine with them.

And so tonight they lay on their backs beside each other, staring up at the stars, very drunk.

“I don’t wanna go to Ismere next week,” Gwaine mumbled, pressing his face into Elyan’s hair. "Wan' us to stay with you."

Elyan grumbled. “I don’t get why I can’t come too. I wanna throw a snowball at your head!”

“I want that too!” Gwaine exclaimed, head popping up in wide eyed earnestness.

“-And then you can throw one at my head-“

“But Princess thinks all three of us together are a distraction-“

“‘n’ we can both throw one at Percy-“

“Stupid Princess.”

“And then we can all just snuggle… Hey he’s my brother in law! So he’s kinda yours too.”

Gwaine shuddered. “Noooo… I’m breaking up with you.”

Elyan’s eyes got all big and sad as he propped himself up on an elbow to look down at him. “Really?”

Gwaine considered him solemnly for a moment. “Nah. You’re too cute.”

“Oh. Ok.” Elyan lay back down with his head on his shoulder.

"You're cuter than Princess is annoying."

"That’s a lot!"

"Mhm," Gwaine agreed proudly.

Elyan grabbed two fistfuls of his boyfriend's hair and gazed widely into his eyes. "I love you!" he told him loudly.

"I love you too!" Gwaine half yelled back delightedly, an inch from his face.

He tilted his head and they shared a clumsy kiss which was immediately broken when the sound of hoofbeats reached them.

“They’re back!”

Trying to muffle their giggles they climbed down from the keep and landed just in front of the returning patrol, leaning against each other and swaying slightly.

“Stop! In the name of-“ Gwaine broke off to think.

“Alcohol!” Elyan pitched in with a hiccup.

“Alcohol!” Gwaine agreed. “You have our boyfriend!”

As they broke into a round of giggles the other knights rolled their eyes and rode straight past them, leaving only Percival and Leon.

“Percival, your boyfriends are being annoying again,” Leon said in a weary tone.

Percival was grinning broadly at the sight of his partners. “Oh come on, don’t blame me! He-“ He pointed at Elyan- “Has been your friend a lot longer than he’s been my boyfriend. Isn’t he basically your brother?”

“More like bother,” Leon muttered. “What about him?” He pointed at Gwaine.

“You arrested him first!”

“I really need to get the guards some better training,” Leon muttered to himself. “What did I tell you about getting drunk on tall defensive structures!” he called to Elyan and Gwaine who had now both clambered onto Percival’s horse and were both somehow perched on their partner’s lap, cuddling with him.

“Percival’s a tall defensive structure,” Gwaine murmured lovingly into said man’s neck. Elyan giggled into his side of Percival’s neck and high-fived Gwaine. Percival snorted with laughter, kissing the tops of their heads.

“That makes no sense, love.”

"You don't make sense!"

Leon just sighed. “Are we going to make it home this side of midnight?” he asked loudly.

There was a squabble over who got to ride with Percival which Elyan won, leaving Gwaine to beg a lift with Leon. And so they set off, Elyan snuggled against his partner’s broad chest, Gwaine hanging on behind the First Knight.

Were Elyan less drunk he might’ve made a show of grinning smugly at Gwaine, but with alcohol he had considerably less dignity so instead he whined and made grabby hands until Leon sighed again and nudged his horse close enough so that his bother could grab one of Gwaine’s arms and hug it along with Percy’s.

“You know I really don’t think this is safe,” Leon pointed out as Gwaine entwined his leg with Percival’s, but he was predictably ignored by the entire throuple who were now clinging to each other. "Come on, let's hurry this up or I’ll have to explain to Gwen why I’ve murdered her brother and brother-in-laws."

"Wait, Gwen’s our sister-in-law?” Percival exclaimed.

"That balances it out," Gwaine declared. Elyan hummed in agreement.

#bbc merlin #perelyaine #they're just. so annoying :') #my fic #mine

[lacharcutiere]

i’ll take u to the coffee shop

words: 2.3k

atsumu miya x fem!reader, feat. suna rintarō & kita shinsuke // sfw, fluff & coffee shop au obvs

ahaha the title is a play on 50 cent’s candy shop, get it ???

a/n: this was supposed to be hcs. or a drabble. but it ran really long (& also barely took me any time to write???) so here we are. enjoy @nkhachuuya​ <3

general masterlist // haikyū!! masterlist

· i ·

there’s this adorable, tiny little café a block away from your apartment, and you take pride in being one of their few regulars—it’s kind of niche, undiscovered, and a wonderful place to study. it’s got a single bar against the wall opposite the counter, and you’re almost always the only one there. it’s not that business is bad; it’s just that it sits right next to an office complex, and most of its other regulars don’t have much more time than it takes to pick up a coffee and a croissant and leave. so you’ve almost always got the place to yourself. and by now, you’re familiar with most of its employees.

the weather is kind of disgusting this morning: there’s a light rain, and it’s chilly but not cold enough for snow, and it’s a little too windy for an umbrella to be anything other than an inconvenience.

your head is dipped, your bag is tucked tightly under your trench coat, your hair is damp when you walk in. and there’s a new barista, one you’ve never seen before—tall, hair bleached blond, big brown eyes, and... not unattractive. he must be new, you think.

as it normally is at this hour, the café is otherwise empty. his elbows are leaned on the counter and he’s on his phone, and the jingle of the bell on the door seems to startle him; he jumps when you walk in. you hide a laugh, but badly.

he snorts. “what a way to start my morning.”

“what?”

“embarrassing myself in front of a pretty girl like you?” he says, shoving his phone in his pocket. before you can get a chance to respond, he continues, “what can i getcha?”

“uhm,” you say.

he grins. “yeah?”

“large, uh, caffè vanilla. with, uh, extra sugar ‘nd almond milk. for here.”

“you got it, pretty girl,” he says, and turns to grab a cup and get the milk out of the fridge.

“you’re not gonna ask me to pay?”

“oh, shit. um, yeah. four seventy-seven, you can insert your card whenever you’re ready.” while you give the chip reader a second to process it, he looks up at you, running a hand through his hair. “two for two?”

you laugh as you return your card to your wallet. “i haven’t seen you before, ‘s it your first day?”

“nah,” he answers as he returns to measuring out the milk for your coffee, “but i was supposed to. i started the other night. suna—you know him?— yeah, he had me fill in for him.” he pauses briefly, turns back to you. “i take it you come here a lot?”

“yeah,” you nod, and then add jokingly, “so you’ll definitely be seeing more of me.”

his face lights up at that. “yeah?”

“mhm.”

“huh,” he laughs, “well, i could get used to having you around.”

it’s awkwardly quiet as he finishes pouring the drink into a mug for you and you walk over to set your things down on a chair. when he calls you back over and hands it to you, he says, “i’m atsumu, by the way. in case i’m ever not here and you wanna ask when my next shift is.”

you laugh and introduce yourself back.

“‘s pretty.” he smiles. “it suits you.”

and you take your drink and have a seat, your back to him as you fish your laptop and a book out of your bag. you can feel his eyes on you almost the entire time you’re there, though—and you don’t hate it.

he speaks to you once more when you’re heading out the door, calling out your name and handing you scrap of an old receipt with a phone number written on the back, which you can only assume is his.

“can i take you out sometime?” he asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“i don’t even know you,” you say, to which he responds:

“sure you do. i’m atsumu.”

“right.” and you give him one last smile and leave.

you don’t text him.

· ii ·

atsumu isn’t working when you come in the next afternoon—instead, you’re greeted by kita, who says to you as he makes your usual: “he was here this morning.”

“huh?”

“atsumu. he told me to tell you.”

“oh,” you say, and try to hold back a smile as you wonder why that bit of information has just about made your day.

“he works thursday morning, if you wanna come by then.” as kind of an afterthought, he laughs and adds, “i think he’d like that.”

“oh, please,” you respond sarcastically.

· v ·

but then it’s thursday morning, eight forty-six a.m., and you’re on your way to the café.

when you get there, he’s not even behind the counter—instead, he’s sitting in one of the barstools, his feet kicked up on the table.

“you’re gonna get fired,” you greet him.

“hey,” he responds with a grin.

“hi. i’ve got an order, if you wanna take it.”

“yeah, yeah, of course.” as he rushes back to where he’s supposed to be, he says, “i’ve got another thing i wanna take.”

you give him an eye roll.

“you. on a date.”

“that wasn’t as smooth as you think. large caffè vanilla with extra sugar and almond milk, please.”

“for here.”

“i was gonna take it to go this time, actually.”

“that wasn’t a question.”

“atsumu—”

“i’m making it for here.” he smiles, and turns to the fridge.

“i haven’t paid,” you point out to him, but this time he doesn’t stop.

“on the house,” he says. “i’ve got a new policy for hot girls: in house, on the house.”

“you’ve been working here for like, a week.”

“so?”

“so i don’t think you get to have policies.” the last word is in air quotes for further emphasis, but it doesn’t matter since his back is to you.

when he hands your drink to you, he says again, “date?”

and you say, “no,” with a smile and another eye roll.

you make sure to leave while he’s taking care of another customer.

· vi ·

you come by in the morning again, and atsumu’s working. there’re a couple people in line ahead of you, graciously saving you from the greater part of his antics.

you don’t think you mind them, though.

and when he winks at you and says, “here ya go, pretty girl,” as he hands you your drink—to go, this time—your gaze snaps to the floor, hoping he won’t see the flush in your cheeks.

· ix ·

you have class early monday morning, but find yourself craving a danish after lunch, so you stop by the café on your way home.

“hey suna,” you greet him as you walk in, and he gives you a nod back.

“usual?”

“not today,” you say, “just a danish. cream cheese,” and pull your card out of your wallet.

“so.” he grabs one out of the fridge and sticks it in the toaster for you. “i hear you’ve taken a liking to atsumu?”

your eyes go wide. “huh? no way. other way around.”

suna shrugs. “‘s just what he said. i wouldn’t go for it if i were you, though. he’s kinda... i dunno. doesn’t take most things seriously, y’know?”

“yeah,” you say, as he slips the danish into a paper baggie and hands it to you. “yeah, i figured.”

· xi ·

atsumu knows your order.

it’s only the third time that you’ve come in when he’s working, and he knows your order.

he asks you on a date again, too, and you turn him down again. this time, it’s less because you don’t know him and more because what suna told you is echoing in your head.

and you’re not gonna lie, you wish you hadn’t heard it.

· xv ·

he always works mornings, you find out, unless he’s covering someone else’s shift.

“i kinda hate it,” he says, and continues with a smirk, “but not when you come in.”

“okay, atsumu.”

“date?”

“no.”

· xxi ·

and so that becomes your routine. when you do stop in, you try to make it a point come by the café in the morning.

you’re there more mornings than you’d like to admit.

atsumu doesn’t have to know—you’ve been a regular since before he started working there. he doesn’t need to know how much more frequently you visit now.

it’s your new routine: stop by before class. atsumu recites your order, large caffè vanilla, extra sugar, almond milk, before you can. sometimes it’s for here, sometimes you get it to go. “four seventy-seven,” he’ll say, and he’ll ask you on a date as you wait for the chip reader to process your payment. you always turn him down. and he never seems down about it—suna was probably right.

· xxxiv ·

and then, one day, atsumu doesn’t ask.

everything else is the same; he meets you with the same bright, mischievous grin, he still gets your order ready without you even having to say what you want. still tries to convince you to have it in house.

but he doesn’t ask you out.

you don’t mention it at all, and get him to put your drink in a to-go cup after some brief back-and-forth.

as you walk home, though, you can’t help but to feel kind of disappointed. is he taken? was he ever actually interested?

all this time you’d been trying to convince yourself that suna’s words didn’t apply to you. you were going to say yes. you were. but now it really seems like you were no exception, and as much as you don’t want to belive that, it’s hard not to when the proof seems so plainly laid out in front of you.

· xxxvii ·

it’s that strange kind of hurt that’s easily bearable, but that eats away at your thoughts with each passing day that you don’t get an answer.

you still stop by the café in the mornings, when he’s working. you do your best to hide whatever strange thing it is you’re feeling. he doesn’t seem to be any different than when you first met him, more than a month ago now.

well, aside from that he doesn’t ask you out every time he sees you anymore. but you’re gonna just try to ignore that.

· xl ·

apparently, there’s a first time for everything: you have never run into atsumu outside that café before. but then today, you’re heading home from the on-campus library after some late-evening studying, and you see a familiar blond-headed figure leaving the gym.

it seems he sees you too, in the yellowy glow of the lamps lining the walkways, and he waves and jogs over to you.

“what’re you doing out so late?” he asks when he reaches you.

“i could ask you the same thing.”

“i just got done with practice,” he says, and you notice that his hair is, in fact, still damp from the shower. “you?”

“writing papers.”

“gross.”

“ha, yeah.”

and then he stops, and he looks at you for a bit. you fight the urge to turn away.

“it’s kind of late.” that, it is. “do you, uh, want me to walk you home?”

“no, no, ’s fine,” you say, too quickly.

“no,” he responds, “i’m walking you home. don’t want you to get, like, kidnapped or anything, ya know?”

he’s right. you hate that he’s right, but yes, walking the five city blocks back to your apartment alone after dark is kind of terrifying.

so you thank him, and you let him walk with you.

he’s talkative, at least, so you never end up having to ask the burning questions that have been at the back of your mind for a few days now. except, you want to know the answer.

so you figure, i’ll ask him when i get home, and then too soon, you’re home.

“this is it,” you tell him.

“alright.” he doesn’t move.

silence.

and then you both start at the same time:

“you—”

“why—”

he laughs. you laugh too, nervously.

“you first. ladies first.”

“uhm.” just say it. “why’d... why’d you stop asking me on dates?”

and he doesn’t say anything for a moment. you watch his eyes go wide.

“what?”

“what?”

and he laughs again. “i was gonna— you never texted me.”

“huh?”

“i— you— i gave you my number, remember?” he pauses. “but enough of that, what?”

your face heats up. you’re glad it’s dark. “you stopped asking me out,” you whisper.

“yeah.”

you look at the ground. the next words are barely audible; just breath. they’re not even for him; they’re for yourself. “—was gonna say yes.”

“what?”

but he heard you, and next thing you know, his arms are wrapping around your shoulders and you inhale sharply, shocked.

“atsumu?” you breathe.

“you were?”

you nod into his shoulder, and then he pulls away. you want to pull him back to you, but you don’t.

“why did you stop asking?”

“well,” he says. “after, like, a month i figured i didn’t have a shot.”

“oh my god, i thought you had a girlfriend or something.”

“no, i—”

that’s it, that’s it. all your patience is gone; it’s not needed anymore. you don’t even let him finish before taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his.

he melts into it almost immediately, bringing his hands to your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. he’s warm, very warm, and you almost forget it’s november.

impulses spurred on by this new thing, you invite him back up to your apartment.

and it’s funny, he points out from his place on the couch, how this time, you’re the one who makes him a cup of coffee.

he likes his with extra sugar, too.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #suna rintarō #kita shinsuke #inarizaki #inarizaki boys #coffee shop au #fluff #sfw #college au #i did not mean for this to be so long #this was just gonna be hcs #but whatever #i like how it turned out :) #i hope you can read roman numerals #kt's requests #(kinda) #anyway now its time to do my math ia #pray for me #pray for marg #mara's archive

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Untitled

Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change.  She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #lauren writes rizzoli and isles fan fiction #the high school teachers baseball California AU no one asked for lmao #not sure if it's too niche or if there'll be interest for it #but it feels like if I do continue it it should be long? #idk we'll see

[thelastspeecher]

Pirate AU - Shore Leave

A coupla times this week I randomly got inspired to write some Pirate AU stuff.  And I got some good news yesterday, so I decided I’d post the stuff I wrote.  Like a gift to myself, that kind of thing.

So here’s some more Pirate AU content, but most importantly, some Pirate AU Stangie content.  Plus a bit of bonus Shermie content.  Enjoy.

(For context, this takes place a few years after this ficlet.)

——————————————————————————————

              “Thanks for watching the kids, Maria,” Stan whispered. “You can head home.”  Maria got up from the kitchen table.  On her way out, she tsked at Angie.

              “You know better, mija.  Be smarter and faster next time.”

              “Of course, Maria,” Angie said.  Maria shook her head disapprovingly one last time, then left.

              “Sit down, you gotta get off your feet,” Stan instructed his wife.  Angie obediently took a seat at the table.  Stan sat next to her.  “Angie.”

              “It’s a good thing I’m pregnant,” Angie said jovially.  Stan scowled.

              “Then we must be defining ‘good thing’ differently,” he growled.

              “If I wasn’t pregnant, I wouldn’t have been able to delay ‘em hangin’ me,” Angie said.  “Without that, you ‘n the crew wouldn’t have rescued me from the clink in time.”

              “You got caught pirating!” Stan snapped.  “You were about to be hanged!  Yeah, you were able to delay it this time, but next time?” Silently, he thanked whatever deity he believed in that day that they had come back from the rescue mission late enough the kids were asleep.

              Don’t want ‘em to see their parents fight. And judging by Angie’s already frustrated expression, this was definitely going to be a fight.

              “There won’t be a next time.”

              “You’re damn right.”  Stan met Angie’s eyes squarely.  “‘Cause you’re giving up piracy.”  Angie’s eyes flashed with anger.

              “You have no right-”

              “To what?  Want my wife safe?  Want my kids to grow up with both parents?  Angie, I can’t- I can’t live like this anymore!  I can’t watch you go to sea, knowing that you might not come back.  I love you too damn much to let you keep throwing your life away like this!”

              “This is the first time I’ve been caught,” Angie said, but her voice lacked some of the bite it had earlier.

              “Now that it’s happened once, it’s gonna happen again.”  Stan reached out and took ahold of one of Angie’s hands.  He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, feeling the thick scars from years of piracy.  “There are some injuries that, when you recover from ‘em, you’re never the same. You’ve had a lot of those.  It’s already started catching up with you. You know that.”  Angie looked away.

              “I…”

              “Give me a single reason you can’t leave piracy.”

              “You know my reasons.”

              “They were reasons you had when you first started. But they don’t matter anymore, Ang! Your name – your real one – got cleared. You’ve got a family and a home. You’ve got money.  Give me a reason that still applies.”

              “I…”  Angie looked down at the floor.  After a moment, she sighed.  Without saying a word, she got up and walked away.

              Shit.  Did I overstep?  Stan started to get up.  No. He sat back down.  Give her a bit of space.  You know how she is.  When a few minutes had passed, Stan couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  He followed her outside.  In the light of the full moon, he could see her talking to Dan. He walked over.

              “Thanks fer savin’ me,” Angie said quietly.  “Not just- not just tonight.  All those other times.  I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t fer you.”  Wordlessly, Dan enveloped her in a hug.  “Take good care of her, Dan,” Angie said, her voice cracking with emotion. They broke apart.  Dan ruffled Angie’s hair, nodded at Stan, and began to walk down the road that led to town.

              “What was that about?” Stan asked.  Angie’s shoulders shook.  “Ang, is everything all right?”

              “No!  I’m- I’m pregnant, I’m sure it’s twins again, I was almost hanged tonight, and I just gave up everything I spent most of my life buildin’ up!” Angie snapped.

              “You…”

              “Dan’s goin’ to run Sweet Viola fer a few months before easin’ her out of the game.”  Angie’s head drooped.  “This pirate king is hangin’ up her crown.”

              “Angie.”  Stan tilted Angie’s chin to look into her eyes.  Eyes the color of the sea.  “Thank you.”

              “You never thank folks,” Angie mumbled.

              “That’s how you know I’m serious.”  Stan grinned.  “And you’re not giving up all the shit you spent so long on.  You’ve still got me.  You’ve still got the kids.  All five of ‘em.”

              “No, darlin’, it’s definitely goin’ to be six,” Angie insisted.

              “What makes you so sure?”

              “A woman knows.”

              “If you say so.”

              “That’s no way to talk to yer captain.”

              “You just gave up your ship,” Stan pointed out. Angie looked away.  Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  “I’m just kidding, babe.  You’ll always be my captain.”

              “Damn straight,” Angie muttered.  “By the way, I might be givin’ up piracy, but I ain’t givin’ up thievery.”

              “Good,” Stan said.  “I’m gonna need your help to keep the shop stocked.”  Angie managed a soft laugh.  The two stayed outside.  Their home was atop a seaside cliff, from which they could see the dark ocean reflecting the pale moonlight.

              Angie buried her head in Stan’s shirt, crying, as her ship disappeared over the horizon for the last time.

-----

              They walked past a shop with a number of nice dresses in the storefront window.  Promptly, Danny and Daisy made a beeline for it, cooing over the fancy fabrics.  The whole family was in town to run a few errands.  Stan glanced at his wife.  Angie wasn’t happy she had been dragged out of the house, but Emmett refused to go anywhere without her.

              “Mama, look!” Danny said excitedly, pointing at the dresses.  Angie forced a smile.

              “Yes, dear, they’re very nice.”

              “You should get it!  It would look so pretty on you!”

              “She’s got a point,” Stan whispered to her. Angie sighed heavily.

              “It would be nice to have some more clothin’ options.  I noticed the other day that I don’t have many dresses.”

              “What are you talking about?  You’ve got plenty!”

              “Yes, fer this!”  Angie gestured to her enormous baby bump.  With how big she was getting, Stan had finally begun to agree Angie was likely right, that they were having twins for a third time.  “But after I give birth?  Most of the clothes what ‘ll fit me were fer workin’ on the ship.”

              “So, something that a nice housewife wouldn’t wear,” Stan said.  Angie nodded. “Well, want me to treat you to somethin’ nice?”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “I don’t think even you can steal a whole dress in public without bein’ caught, darlin’.”

              “I wasn’t gonna steal it.  I was gonna buy it.”

              “Buy it?”  Angie put her hands on her hips.  “Who are you and what have ya done with my husband?” she asked, aghast. Stan laughed.  “It’s prob’ly expensive.  I’m fine.”

              “After the kids are born and you’re back to normal, I’ll get you somethin’ fancy, okay?” Stan said.  He held out his arm.  Angie took it with a smile.

              “All right.  If ya insist.”  She leaned in to talk quietly.  “Darlin’, in all seriousness, yer okay with buyin’ somethin’ rather than stealin’ it?”

              “Ang, I haven’t done much crime ashore.  Only small stuff I know I can get away with. I didn’t wanna risk getting caught and leaving the kids all alone while you were at sea.”

              “…Right.”  Angie sighed again.  “I keep forgettin’ how little I’ve been on land with you ‘n the kids.”

              “You’ve got plenty of time to catch up on everything.”

              “Yes.  Since I’m now permanently on shore leave.”  Angie raised her voice.  “Girls, leave the dresses alone, we have to go to the market.”  Reluctantly, Danny and Daisy abandoned the dresses and ran back to their parents.

              “Papa, I wanna piggy-back ride,” Daisy whined.  From his perch atop Stan’s shoulders, Emory blew a raspberry at his older sister.

              “Emory’s got littler legs than you do,” Stan said. Daisy crossed her arms.

              “Emmett’s walking just fine!” she argued, gesturing at Emmett, who was holding Stan’s hand.

              “What have we talked about?” Angie asked patiently. Daisy pouted.

              “Being a good big sister,” she muttered.  Angie ruffled her hair.

              “Don’t worry, honey, when we get to the market, you can do some more pocket practice,” she cooed.  Daisy’s eyes lit up.  She nodded. The family continued walking down the street, Danny and Daisy running ahead eagerly.  Stan grinned cheekily at Angie.

              “You’re getting lazy, having the kids pickpocket for you,” he teased.

              “I’m too pregnant to be quiet and get away fast,” Angie said.

              “Fair.”

              “I’m glad that even if yer not willin’ to do much crime lately, yer not extendin’ that to the kidlets.”

              “It’s a lot easier to brush off a six-year-old taking something than a grown adult.”

              “Mm, true enough.”  Angie smoothed the fabric of her dress.  “Once I’m shipshape, I’ll get to restockin’ the shop, darlin’.”  She smirked.  “I’m damn fine at sleight of hand.  Not to mention, no one would accuse the sweet housewife of larceny.”  Stan chuckled.

              “I knew I married the right woman.”

              “Mama, what’s larson?” Emmett asked abruptly. Angie smiled at her son.

              “A grown-up word ya don’t need to worry ‘bout.”

              “Like ‘damn’,” Emory said helpfully.  Stan and Angie grimaced.

              “…We should probably work on cleaning up our sailors’ mouths if we wanna avoid attracting attention,” Stan said quietly. Angie nodded.

              “Agreed.”

-----

              Shermie walked up to the unassuming house.  A large sign outside read “McGucket’s Marine Antiques”.

              This is the right place, then.  Good.  Being a merchant, Shermie had to spend a lot of time away from his family, so he made sure to bring back souvenirs from each trip.  This trip, to a small town called Gravity Falls, had been woefully bereft of potential souvenirs.  As such, he’d been relieved when a local told him about the store on the edge of town full of fun and sparkly things.

              “Ma’am,” he said politely to the woman sitting on the porch, supervising two toddler boys playing on the front lawn.  On either side of her was a basket holding a young infant.  The woman looked up at him curiously.  Recognition flickered in her eyes.  She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, one of the infants began to fuss.  The woman quickly began to soothe the infant.                 Shermie ducked into the house.  The room he was in looked like a proper shop.  Shelves lined the walls, groaning underneath the merchandise.  Some larger items, like a rusted anchor, were set on the floor, with price tags that seemed far too high to Shermie.  Two young girls in the corner giggled to each other as they picked through a box on the floor full of even more small items.

              “Welcome to McGucket’s Marine Antiques!” a voice boomed. A familiar voice.  Shermie’s eyes widened.  He turned.  Behind the store counter was a face he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

              “Stanley?” Shermie croaked.  His little brother gaped.

              “…Shermie?”

              “Stan, what are you- how- you-”  Shermie ran his hands through his hair.  “The people in town said the man who ran this store was named Stan McGucket, not Stan Pines.”  Stan grimaced.

              “Yeah.  Uh…” Stan looked over at the girls in the corner.  “Danny, Daisy.”  The girls looked up.  One had the distinctive Pines nose.  “If anyone comes in, go get your ma and have her handle the customer.”  The girls nodded.  “All right, Shermie, come with me, I’ll answer all your questions.”

              “You better,” Shermie mumbled.  Stan pushed open a door located behind the counter. Shermie followed him into the house proper.  The living room they walked into was cozy and nautical-themed, full of décor that looked like it came from a ship.  Stan gestured to a couch.  Shermie sat down.  Stan sat in a chair across from him.

              “The people in town said this place was run by Stan McGucket because it is.”

              “But how-”

              “I’ll tell you everything, but first, what do you know?” Stan asked.  Shermie raised an eyebrow.

              That’s…interesting.  Stan’s careful dodge reminded Shermie a lot of how his brother would construct lies as a teen.  He would ask what someone knew, then build his lie around that information.  Asking first allowed him to avoid contradicting something known to the person he was lying to.  Hopefully he’s not lying to me now.  I’ve fallen out of practice seeing through Stan’s lies.

              “You were captured by pirates over a decade ago,” Shermie said, deciding to take Stan at face value.  “At some point after you were captured by pirates, Stanford disappeared at sea.”  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, that’s right.”  He sighed.  “Ford actually caught up to the ship I was captive on.  I got free in the fight, but Ford…he…”  Stan looked down at the ground.  “Well, I didn’t see his body, so I’m holding onto the hope that he’s still alive.”

              “Stan…”

              “The people in town know me as Stan McGucket ‘cause that’s my name now,” Stan continued, talking over Shermie.  “While I was captured by pirates, one of them decided he liked my name and took it.  I didn’t like the idea of sharing a name with a pirate, so I took my wife’s last name.”

              That smells like a lie.  Shermie’s brain caught up with what Stan was saying.  Wait, what?

              “You’re married?” Shermie asked.

              “Yeah.  You saw Angie – my wife – outside.  At least, I hope you did.  She said she was watching four of the kids out there.”

              “I…”  Shermie kneaded his forehead.  “Okay. Now I need to know how you met your wife.”

              “After I escaped from the pirates, I decided to stay at sea to look for Ford.  I didn’t- I didn’t wanna come home without him, y’know?”

              “Yes, I do,” Shermie said quietly.

              “I managed to get a spot on board a merchant ship where her brother, Lute, was first mate.  He was looking for her after she got captured by pirates.  Eventually, we found the ship she was on and rescued her.”

              “You…you rescued your future wife from pirates?” Shermie asked, dumbfounded.  Stan nodded. “Why am I not surprised?”  Stan smirked slightly.

              “We both stayed at sea as merchants,” he continued, “and fell in love pretty quick.  After we had the first set of twins, I decided to move ashore with ‘em. Angie, she, uh-”  He laughed quietly.  “She decided to keep sailing.  Even after we had another set of twins.”

              “Really?”

              “What can I say?  I married a free spirit.”

              Makes sense Stan would find someone like himself.

              “When she found out she was pregnant for the third time, though, we had a long talk, and decided that she’d move ashore with me permanently.  I like having her close by.”

              “I’d imagine having her help with the kids would be nice as well.”

              “Eh.  We’ve got some former crewmates in town that love watching the kids,” Stan said with a shrug.  “That’s why we settled here.  With that help, keeping track of the kids wasn’t what I was concerned about.  I missed my wife.”  There was something more, though.  A haunted look lingered in Stan’s eyes.

              “You were worried about her safety,” Shermie said. Stan looked away.  “I can’t blame you.  It’s dangerous to be a merchant.”

              He’s already lost his twin to the sea.  Of course he doesn’t want to lose his wife, too.

              “Yeah, well.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “I’ve got Angie on shore with me now.  We’ve got six great kids.  Life’s pretty good.”

              “Yes.  I can see that.  Mom will be relieved to hear you’re fine.”

              “She’s gonna show up within a week of you telling her,” Stan mumbled.

              “Can you blame her?” Shermie asked.  Stan shook his head.

              “Not after having my own kids, no.”  The door opened.  The woman from outside, who Shermie now knew to be Stan’s wife, Angie, poked her head into the room.

              “Darlin’, should I be plannin’ on an extra person fer dinner?” she asked.  Shermie tried to hide his surprise at Angie’s strong accent.

              “No need,” Shermie said, getting up from the couch. “I need to be going back to my ship before long.  But before I head out, I should do what I came here to do.”

              “What’d you come here for?” Stan asked, getting up as well.

              “To buy something for my kids.”  Shermie raised an eyebrow.  “Might I be able to get a family discount from my little brother that disappeared for ten years?”  Stan sighed heavily.  “If I get a good deal, I might forget to mention you to Mom for a few days…”  A twinkle appeared in Stan’s eye.

              “Make it a week, and I’ll see what I can do.”

              “Deal.”

#it's been a while since I posted Pirate Content so I'm happy to be posting a bit more #idk why this AU is what I got randomly inspired to write for but here we are #with more Pirate Content and Stangie being a cute criminal couple #Pirate AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Shermie Pines #Stangie Family #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

[jiminrings]

hi!! can i request a drabble of new personaltrainer!jungkook training a pretty awkward (and kinda chubby/thicc..?) y/n and its super fluffy and aaaa,, i love your writing aaaa 🥺

cloud nine

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: y/n finally gives into jimin the gymbro’s thoughtful push, and jungkook is sO close to barking back to his chihuahua the moment he gets home :D // gif isn’t mine but look at it it’s so cRISPY!!!

notes: thank you sO much babie!! here you go :D

okay that’s iT!!

you totally need something new in your life

you need a change of pace or whatever that’s called

all the days you’ve been having are all blurring into the same one and it just makes you feel so stagnant

the only difference you could point out are the sleep shirts you wear and that’s ONLY if you don’t try to repeat wearing them

you now have a list of people you’re in awe of

people who genuinely and unironically consider friends the tv show as a cinematic masterpiece because nOAH FENCE how do they manage to get entertained by laugh tracks and the same skit over and over again

ok maybe your slander towards it increased because hoseok (the guy you have a sorta crush on) likes it and he leaves you on read and sometimes doesn’t even open your message and thEN you’d see his instagram stories and they’re all just???? friends???? what was the reason

and second, jimin!

jimin’s your best friend and that just makes you awed even more because you don’t even know how the two of you got close

jk it was when your friends forced you to come with them at this inflatable water park and you were sCARED and so he held your lifevest and was like

“hEY do you wanna take this in the same pace that i’m doing it?? tbh i just wanna get back to my mimosas but my friends paid too expensively for this”

<3 he has been the guardian of your heart since <3

jimin’s just so well-paced and organized and knows how to have his fun that his daily life doesn’t seem like a mindless routine

you are actively YEARNING for that kind of lifestyle

and right now it just seems like the stars are aligning for you and are practically made for your existence alone!!

jimin’s a gymbro

he is the living breathing talking definition of gymbro and gymrat and gymgod or whatever it is

.....

.......

.... gymin if u will ....

okAy then

but he wasn’t the aggressive type of gymbro, not at all!

he’s a total natural!!

like he’s ripped but not excessively and exaggeratedly ripped

he doesn’t flex but the muscle definition and the physique are just wHew exquisite!!

he doesn’t talk in protein powder lingo but you aren’t surprised to see a giant jug of it inside his cupboard!!! after all he’s proud to say that it’s practically all-skill!!!

and to top it off.,.,

:D

okay so jimin takes off his shirt right

the two of you are neighbors and you often come into each other’s places and it feels like home too

and you aren’t complaining!! you know that he runs a little hot that normal and you wouldn’t want him overheating

but he has this large tattoo on his rib that reads nevermind and it’s so cOOL and it just makes the gears in your head go creak creak because aha your best friend is the blueprint huh

you’re not surprised!! you really aren’t!!

after all, why would you be surprised out of all the things above when you already know that he owns a goddamn GYM??

the only regret that you have is not meeting him sooner :((

yeah sure pjm athletics does have a nice ring to it bUT WHAT ABOUT PARK’S GYMIN

you’ve always been.,., a lil curious ok

i mean your goddamn friend is the ownEr of a really well-known and well-praised gym!! how could you not??

you don’t wanna mooch off from him though no matter how much he offers you free classes and stuff

he always brings you home extra merch and energy drinks that you’re sure you can now have a tap for gatorade

he’s not dENSE!! he sees how you look at him whenever he does push-ups on your floor or when he does planks like no big deal

there’s this thought at the back of your head that y’know..,., what if THIS was the thing that’s gonna be your change of pace

lmao you’re looking for hardship basically

jimin’s finally had it when you sigh for the eleventh time while he’s doing pull-ups

you want to spend your own money and he knows you won’t accept any of his offers!!

that’s it he needs to be smart about this!!!

“woah jimin holy sHIT you’re having a 50% off your membership??? and it comes with a trainer too??? are you serious right now???”

:)))

he can now sleep in peace knowing his editing job for this flyer has paid off and he’s passed the “y/n’s not believing me” stage :))

if it wasn’t established enough there really isn’t a sale lol

here you are then,.,.

wearing workout leggings that jimin deemed to be reAlly great and it made quite a hefty dent in your wallet but you trust his judgement so ok

you’re not in the mood to wear anything besides jimin’s black dri-fit shirt because you really don’t wanna attract attention as the newbie

this is good!! you now have a gym membership AND a personal trainer!!

you dON’T exactly need them but you feel you just do y’know!! there’s no harm in trying :D

you didn’t want jimin to be your personal trainer and he basically sULKED for a whole week

it’s not a him problem!! it’s a you problem!!!

you know that it’s a given that the trainers shOuld be excellently to a degree to actually train someone else

but it’s now dawning in you that HE’S the owner and he’s so intimidatingly good!!! you would look like a raw egg that’s just dumped haphazardly into a pot and he’s the perfectly-boiled egg :((

oh my god

jungkook feels like he’s gonna throw up with how nervous he is

it’s his first day as a personal trainer!! :D

he’s half-excited and half-terrified because holy shit fIRST of all this gym was hard to apply to in the first place

everyone’s flocking it because:

a) it’s really great

b) even greater benefits for the employees

c) the pay is hUGE

d) the equipment?? the morals?? the testimonials?? the owner?? the whole thing??? FANTASTIC

and second omg jungkook won’t admit it to anyone but uHm he’s kinda scared ok

he’s not the type of person that’s comfortable with ordering people around??? even if that’s technically his job???

like what if his first-ever client is a guy like jason momoa and that guy’s a fucking UNIT for sure

imagine hIM telling jASON MOMOA to give him three sets x twenty reps of push-ups

g-gulp

“or i can do it for you, i-if you want?”

he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet and swinging his arms around forward and backward to make them clap quietly

“there, you’re all set!! i already filled up all the forms for you the moment i gave you the flyer!!”

“but-“

“your trainer’s... not me. but he’s uh, what’s his name again, jungkook!! what does he look like again — oh right!! i remember!!”

“jimin-“

“he should be the guy with the big doe eyes!! has a lot of dangly earrings!! if he’s not wearing a sweater then he should be the one who has some tattoos!!”

“no jimin-“

“off you go!! i’ll be bouncing around but i’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry!! okay now go and i’ll let you have a sip of my gatorade even if we have the same drink :D”

.....

whew

there goes nothing then

you’re about to keep your duffel bag close as a reason to stall to getting to the locker room but jimin’s already one step ahead and snatched it from you

you didn’t even get your towel :((

it had a little blue cloud embroidered at the middle of it and it’s your Emotional Support Towel by default

you’re kinda nervous since there’s some pairs of eyes on you because after all they just saw you have the most carefree conversation with the owner they’re a lil scared to talk to

you’re wringing your hands together as you try to spot this jungkook with jimin’s descriptions and-

oh

oH

O H

jungkook looks so ????

wow?????

he’s gorgeous like that is nOt up for debate

he looks so fresh?? effortless?? handsome???

jungkook looks like he smells like baby powder and freshly-washed sheets

the baby powder that you’re tempted to snORt because it smells so good which was the one you’d put on your chest bc boob sweat and to prevent ur thighs chafing

he had to do a double-take on you because the first time he glanced at this walking person he immediately shut down

like when something looks sO pretty that you have to look away for a second because you literally can’t take it

oR like when you have this favorite scene of a movie and you have to physically pause it before rewinding and doing that for another six times

“are you perhaps jungkook?? because i’m not surE and-...”

“jungkook i am. i-i aM jeon jungkook!! yes, right, jungkook!!!!!”

holy fuck he’s stopped working

your mouth’s a little parted because you didn’t expect him to go on that lil spiel cLEARLY but omg he’s adorable!!!

if he could punch himself he really would

it’s taking him a second to regroup but you take the initiative to introduce yourself :D

“i’m y/n! you’re my trainer from what they told me :))”

you’re a lil more awkward when it comes to social interactions like these but it looks like you’re acing it when put in front of jungkook

the both of you shake hands and then immediately put it behind your back because wow u just shook the pretty boy’s hand AND it’s not even 8 in the morning yet!!

you haven’t even started the workout portion yet but ur already on fire

( jimin’s looking at the security footage and even HE’S blushing from the secondhand embarrassment jungkook’s brough oh my god )

(( jimin suddenly wishes he could unlearn reading people’s lips ))

“so, what brought you here?”

it’s jungkook who asks but he alsO wants to answer himself to say it’s fate aha :D

he’s getting you to stretches and he’s doing them with you!!

“to be honest?? well there was like a fIFTY percent discount but you already know all of that”

wait

what now

“a sale? what-...”

there’s an abrupt noise that goes through the whole gym and it makes the both of you flinch and you even yelP

if you see jimin lifting a 100lbs barbell only to throw it down and cut off jungkook from speaking THEN MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS

“you okay?”

jungkook asks you quietly and taps your shoulder and you’re about to faint right then and there of how you met like then minutes ago and he’s cONCERNED

the focus on today was flexibility plus easing you into working out!!!

stretches are the next best thing to working out and it’s a win-win combo bc you’re flexible aND you’re basically exerting effort = kind of a workout apparently

the bit of reaching your toes then doing a downward dog and the upward-facing dog right after to hear that satisfying grunt of your joints is a LITTLE awkward because jungkook’s looking at you

jungkook wants to look away but in the same time he can’t will himself to

one because he’s a young wide-eyed attracted man and twO he’s the trainer omg he needs to look at you!!!

“o-okay! just a set of jack jum — jUMPING JACKS!!! jumping jacks and we could start :)))”

no one told you.,.,.

no one told you where you should look when you’re doing jumping jacks

you can’t look downwards because that’ll throw you off and you can’t look up either because why?? what??? WHO are you seeking up there????

looking straight ahead is kinda awkward

the safe answer was everywhere at once according to you

you sneak a look at jungkook and you almost choke in your own spit with how handsome he still looks

you’re not gonna cope up with that fact probably ever

jungkook’s feeling a lil sweaty now because uHm he shouldn’t really be doing this with you technically

it’s usually a trainer doing it with you for like the first five reps and then letting you do it alone for the rest

but nO he’s doing this with you he doesn’t mind :D

he could feel a bead of sweat by his sideburns and he’s screaming internally to gO the fuck back where it came from

he wants to tear off his hoodie but he doesn’t know if he should since he doesn’t have a shirt underneath!!!

being shirtless to the gym isn’t new but you’re with him and nOW he feels nervous

honestly jungkook would rather overheat than to make you feel uncomfortable

news flash: you want to curl up into a ball and cry about thinking how you’d be sore the next day

you r about to give out and tear up a little bit because fuck this is nOT an introductory workout

you also don’t want to look like a wimp in front of jungkook because that is not a good look for your pride and you’d feel embarrassed for eternity

just two more to go!!

honestly fUCK fire hydrants!!! 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕊?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖???? 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠 𝕒𝕊𝕊!!!

you raise your head because you’re getting dizzy looking down

jungkook’s looking at you and he sees you looking at him and it dOESN’T help the way you look right now

with you sweaty and grumbling under your breath and ur baby hair all over the place and ur eyes unfocused and fix at the same time a-and ur lips parted and-

JESUS LINE UP AT THE DMV RIGHT NOW TAKE THE WHEEL

jungkook’s so nervous and flustered that his limp actually trembles with how hot his cheeks are and he’s rambling out of nowhere

“fire hydrants amirite??? most certainly inspired by dogs and stuff because cooky, my chihuahua, does exactly that when he pees and-...”

THERE’S THAT LOUD BARBELL CLANGING AGAIN

oh my god he should not have said that

jungkook’s beyond mortified wHY DID HE SAY THAT

you look speechless and you aRE

you’re just nodding at him with a tight-lipped smile and if he knows better that’s because you’re so spent and a little light-headed and less off from his nervous rambling

planks,,, just planks,,, the final bit of it all

you don’t wanna get dizzy at the last stretch so you’re trying your best to not pay attention to the blood rushing to ur head

jungkook’s so distracted with his thoughts that he wordlessly adjusts you

lifts up your core while adjusting your feet closer before pressing his hand to your back and-

aHA FUCK

you now feel like you can run a marathon right after that

jungkook now feels like he can compete in a twenty-hour triathlon

he’s praising you to no end that you did sOOOO good!!! you really did!!!!

meanwhile your face is hot not only from that but also because you’ve endured hardship that felt like hours <3

you’re breathlessly laughing because wHEW you really did do that and wow you’re proud of yourself!!!! it’s not even 10 in the morning!!!

there’s a towel that’s gently patting your face section by section

:)

“you uhm, you didn’t have a towel with you so-“

jungkook pats at your neck to your nape and that’s when it hits that o-OH right i’ll leave you to that

you take the towel with a grin you’re fighting so hard and that’s when you realize that it’s not just a random gym one

but rather it was jungkook’s himself because it’s the same clean one he had in his hands awhile ago!!

you can smell him on it and you make sure to pat your face extra dry because you wouldn’t want to get your face sweaty now would you :D his perfume’s just a bonus, right :D

shouldn’t trainers be the cold and straight to the point ones and immediately leave right after you’re all done????

..... inch resting

“oh my gOD — mr. jimin sir-nim min jimin-nIM!!”

jungkook has the fright of his life when his boss appears from nowhere by his side

jimin laughs at how frazzled this guy is lmao but anyways he came here for you (as if he hasn’t been supervising from afar the whole time)

“want me to give you a ride home or?”

kook’s a little lost and he might just cry as he starts to think that oh wait a second are you guys-

“he’s my best friend.”

you whisper under your breath towards him and he unknowingly sighs in relief

“well did you get here using your jeep or your vespa???”

jimin has this jeep he passionately calls chimmy the jeep and he has a knack for naming things with a ring on it ok

and the other was a cream-colored vespa he bought like six months ago

he learned how to ride the bike a year ago and he was immediately let’s get this to the next level idc i’m getting a vESPA!!!

you have an iRRATIONAL fear of vespas

you’re okay with big bikes and regular motorcycles!!! in fact you find them less threatening than jimin’s motorcycle

the little wheels scare you and it’s just so??? it looks so bite-sized wHY does it look like that???? it looks like you could breathe an extra breath to your right and the vespa would steer to the right

ugh you hate his motorcycle sO bad

“well don’t you hAte public transport when you’re tired and all that???”

yikes you did

it’s true!! you’d call him to pick you up because the bus ride hits harder when you’ve had a long day and u feel every bump in the road possible

“i have a big bike!”

jungkook chimes in and he even raises his hand and that’s when he shuts up when he realizes his mistake

“no one asked mhmm i’m sorry jimin-nim sir hYung-nim”

your eyes widen as it sinks in you that oh my god he mIGHT be as into you as you are with him and that’s so ???? that’s such a heartwarming concept you can’t believe

jungkook has the same big brain moment and he takes your widened eyes as a signal to keep talking

“i have TWO helmets! but uhm one of them is for kooky and he’s a chihuahua, wait i already said that, so that means it’s just a tINY helmet i ordered from amazon but it’s okAy i can wear it!!! b-but i’m not forcing you or anything that i should take you home o-or no offense to mr. jimin-nim sir i am NOT underestimating you or-“

surprisingly, jimin doesn’t hate the idea of you and jungkook

ah he should probably adopt a dog and name them jupiter or sth,,, you and koo look like you’re gonna end up anyways

“okay. just bring her home in one piece.”

he’s oddly calm and that also makes YOU confused

jungkook isn’t confused however because the moment you turn, jimin mouths to him in korean and the rough translation was hurt her and i’ll kill you :D

you nodded your head and that meant he’s iNDEED taking you bome

he starts throwing things in his duffel bag (and he should still be in the gym but jimin jus gave him a free pass) and he’s wordlessly carrying yours too!!

he could feel your fist holding the back of his hoodie and jungkook just feels at peace :’’’)

wearing a ridiculous miniature helmet for dogs on top of his head that won’t do shit is tOTALLY worth it

#feedback pls and thank you :D #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook au #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff imagine #jungkook fic recs #trainer!jungkook #bts masterlist #requested drabbles

[giorno-plays-piano]

Playing games Pairing: dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader Warning: yandere, swearing, some non-con implications towards the end. Words: 2069. P.S. JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAVE I DONE I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON I HOPE NO ONE WHO REALLY MET SEBASTIAN GONNA READ THIS ghjdfyjdfds I’m so sorry guys _____________________________________ “I asked for a vanilla latte with extra milk, not caramel cappuccino.”

You rolled your eyes at his irritated remark. You knew Sebastian wasn’t in his best mood this morning and expected him to make your day nastier just because he felt like it.

“Sorry, but I’m sure it was caramel cappuccino. You asked for some cinnamon on the top, remember?”

“No, I didn’t.” He snarled and looked at you, giving a mocha frappe to Jill, his hair artist. “I asked for a vanilla latte. If you suffer from memory loss, you’d better visit your doctor once we get back to US.”

What an asshole. Mary, who was now applying some makeup on Sebastian’s face with her beauty blenders and brushes, bit down on her lip: she had been watching how he treated you for the last 3 weeks, and it was a living nightmare. It was very odd since Sebastian was on good terms with pretty much everyone around, but you were always an exception. Why? Neither Mary nor Jill could tell. There was nothing revolting in the way you behaved around Mr. Stan, simply doing your job as his assistant. You were getting him coffee every morning, buying some personal stuff for him, managing his meetings… but you were more an errand girl, that’s true. It was surprising for most of the other people surrounding you two, but you didn’t object to your tasks. You were furious because of the way Sebastian treated you.

He was mean, unfair, irritating, and rude. You didn’t deserve it.

“Well, my voice recorder tells I got everything right.” You pulled it from the pocket of your below-knee sheath skirt, ready to press the button.

“What the fuck is that?” The man rose to his feet immediately, almost pushing frozen Mary out of his way and stepping towards you. “How many times do I have to tell you? NO. FUCKING. RECORDERS.”

He was ready to snatch it from your hands, yet you were able dodge him right on time, hiding the recorder in your pocket again.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, I’ll put it away!” In a second you were behind Jill’s tall figure as if you were a child hiding from a bad-tempered parent, Sebastian watching you with anger in his cold blue eyes. “I’m not going to use it. But it’s still true, you asked for caramel cappuccino.”

“Guess what? I don’t fucking care.” He growled in a low voice. “You’ll go and get me vanilla latte because it’s your goddamn job. And I want my coffee before Jill’s finished with my hair, understood?”

Watching his with clear disdain on your face, you cursed under your breath. It was freaking hot in Prague where Sebastian was filming now and getting out the second time just to run to Starbucks once more would sure ruin both your makeup and a white blouse you had been wearing. Damn it.

“God, why do you have to be such a bastard most of the time?” You snapped at him, visibly shaking with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a closet psycho or what?”

“I’m the one who pays you, honey.” He smiled at you the same way he always did it in front of the camera and you felt sick.

You stormed off the room without having a glance back at his perfect white teeth. Sebastian Stan was the worst person you had ever met, and you were working for him, seeing him every day and listening to his orders as if you were his pet. How did it come to this? Why did he look like the most perfect human being to you six months ago? What made him behave like that to you when in reality it was him who offered you a job?

God, it was all messed up. You did not remember when things got so bad you could yell at each other in a full voice. It was actually surprising, someone like you shouting and swearing at one of the world’s most famous actors, but it was something Sebastian let you do. Like he wanted you to scream at him regardless who surrounded you whether it was his makeup artists, agents, cleaning ladies or anyone else. It was like he got off on it.

True, this job payed well, much better than the one you had before. Moreover, in these 6 months you saw more countries than you did in your entire life, travelling with Sebastian everywhere and meeting tons of new people, many of them being great professionals. It was inspiring; it made you dream of all the things you thought were impossible; it made you curious and gave you a chance to practice your networking skills.

But Sebastian was fucking blowing it. After six months of constant everyday battles filled with rage and pure hatred you had gained weight, 10 pounds to be precise. Now you were having problems to sleep, and you knew it wasn’t the jet lag.

Anyway, you spent the whole day running around the city to buy him this or that. In the evening you were so tired you could barely move your legs while Sebastian was clearly pleased seeing you like that. It probably stroked his enormous ego.

Fuck it. You didn��t deserve a minute of it. You were not going to let him ruin you for fun, just because he could it since he payed you. Why did you spend you precious time trying to please him? Sure, you still considered him one of the best actors on the planet, but the things he did to you were not ok. He wasn’t ok. Maybe he really was a psycho or had some disorder he didn’t want to treat, you had no idea. But you knew it couldn’t continue like that. It was too much.

You spent an hour writing an email and asking to be laid off. It was just a few lines, simple and professional, yet you were constantly adding and then erasing new sentences. You shouldn’t make it personal, you thought to yourself. You doubted you could leave on agreeable terms, but you needed to give it a try. Even if your last argument with Mr. Stan might be the worst of them all, it would be your last one. It was worth it.

Sighing, you decided to take a stroll before going to bed. 15 minutes wouldn’t hurt, right? You’d have some fresh air and enjoy the view of Prague’s Powder Gate – you were lucky to stay right in the center of this magnificent old city. You could make some more photos to show your friends once you return back home. It was also nice to just sit on a bench and look at the night sky full of stars.

Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so guilty for leaving Sebastian and your team.

In the end, it took you way more that 15 minutes, but your late-night walk made your thoughts clear and left no regrets about your choice. What was happening between you and Sebastian wasn’t right, and you could do nothing but leave. With so many people wishing to work for him he would get another assistant in a matter of hours, and you would get your life back. Those money you earned would keep you afloat quiet some time even if you wouldn’t be able to get a job right away.

“What is this, Y/N?”

His voice almost made you jump. Sebastian stood up from the chair in the corner of your room once you put on the lights. What the Hell was he doing here so late? How did he open the door? If he needed anything, he could simply give you a call.

Oh. You saw your little black recorder in his hand.

“I told you I won’t use it anymore.” Your jaw clenched.

“I’m not talking about this piece of shit.”

He tossed your recorder on your bed as if he couldn’t care less and moved towards you so fast you had no time to step back.

“What is this pathetic email you wrote?” Sebastian’s handsome face darkened. “Are you not right in the head? You want to leave?”

“Yes, I do. What’s wrong with that?” Your expression hardened. He dared to touch your laptop when you weren’t there. “I thought you’d be glad to know. Today you told me three times I didn’t deserve working for you, correct?”

“You know perfectly well I wasn’t serious.”

“God, I have a hard time telling when you’re serious since all you do is hating me.”

He sent you an icy glare.

“You know I don’t hate you. You just happen to bring the worst in me, dear.”

There he was again. God, were you going to have this argument right now when you were deadly tired? You hoped it could wait till tomorrow, but it was clearly not your luckiest day.

“If you want to blame me again, it’s ok. I’m the worst one. I’m a bad person and a terrible assistant.” You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed again, scratching your forehead. “I get it. What I don’t get is why you aren’t happy I’m leaving.”

“Because I don’t want you to leave. If I really hated you so much, I’d already found another assistant, but I don’t want that.”

“Listen, let’s stop playing our games just for a few minutes.” This conversation made you feel even more exhausted. “We don’t get along. You don’t like me. Why do we torment each other? I don’t even remember the last time we had a regular conversation without shouting and cursing.”

“I’m not playing games with you, dear. You do.” He had already cornered you, his face determined and somewhat unsettling. “What do you want? A raise? More benefits?”

You were ready to yell at him again.

“Did you listen to what I just said? I want to leave. I want to come home and forget about all our horrible fights. I want to have a steady and boring job back in US. Do you understand?”

“NO, I DON’T!” The man screamed at you again, and now you suddenly felt his arms clenching your shoulders painfully and winced from his touch. “I already told you to stop toying with me! After all this shameless flirting and batting your eyes you wanna tell me you’re leaving? Do you think I’m so stupid to believe in this bullshit?”

It took you a few seconds to process his words. What? Flirting? Well, you did consider him handsome and charming, who on Earth didn’t, but you had never pulled anything like that. At first, it was because of your professionalism, and then your relationships escalated so fast you knew that he hated you and you hated him. What Sebastian had been even talking about?

You felt very aware how close he was once you felt his heavy breath on your face. He never did this before.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I want to leave. That’s all.” You tried pushing him back with your hands against his chest. “Please, let me go. I need to… t-to go to the kitchen.”

“You’re going nowhere, dear.” His expression darkened. “Tell me the truth. You don’t want me to treat you like my assistant? I get it, I get it, it’s fine. I can treat you like my girl in front of everyone if that’s what you want.”

“No! I – “

His put his hand on your mouth immediately, leaning in closer.

“It’s ok, I understand. I grew tired of pretending like nothing happens between us, too. You want me to let everyone now? It’s ok. I’ll post our photo on Instagram tomorrow. Is this what you want? Is this what you want?”

You tried to scream, but his grip on you was too strong as if Sebastian was really some kind of super soldier. Desperately trying to wriggle free you only got him to hold you tighter, his soft lips all over your face already wet with tears.

“It’s ok, dear. I got it.” He shushed you, trying to keep your arms together with his hand and pushing his knee in between your legs. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I understand now, so you don’t have to go. You won’t go, will you?”

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #dark sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #winter soldier

[jehovahhthickness]

boo, i need some advice.🥺 i hate asking for it, but idk what to do anymore. so my boyfriend and i have been together for only 4 months, and i guess that’s why i’m so on the fence of caring about this so much because we haven’t been together that long, but i wanna stop downplaying my emotions. in the beginning, we’d always do the basics, good morning and goodnight texts, affection, talking a lot, asking how my day was or if i’d eaten, but maybe a month ago, he stopped doing it as much, and i didn’t go crazy at first because i didn’t think it had to happen a lot, but it got to the point where it felt like he didn’t care to talk to me, or care about how i was doing. i talked about this with him, he listened, understood where i was coming from, and told me that he’d start applying the effort again, and that was that. mind you, he’s also mentally ill, as am i, so i know he can get distracted, and works six days a week. (idk if i’m just making up excuses, but i’ll keep going.) ultimately, as of the last two weeks, he’s stopped applying the pressure again, and i feel like he doesn’t care about me as much as he used to, even though he claims he does, and idk if i should bring this up again, because i always feel like i’m annoying him.

I’m sorry for responding a million years later.

At our big ages, baby, it’s important to have difficult and uncomfortable conversations with our loved ones, including the people we date. Especially if your needs are not being met.

You have your love language and I feel like when you’re with somebody, y’all gotta adapt and speak each other’s love languages. That’s the only way that shit is gonna work out.

If he makes you feel like you’re nagging and begging him, clear the fucking air with him.

Ask him if he really wants to be with you like that. Ask him why is it so hard for him to do that for you?

All you’re asking is for is more attention and reassurance, that’s not a crime. It’s okay to want these things especially from your romantic partner.

Also, I do not like using mental illnesses as an excuse to avoid accountability. I’m fucked up in the head too but that doesn’t give me the right to treat people any kind of way, especially people I’m building a relationship with.

If you make the conscious decision to get into a romantic relationship, you need to hold your own weight and be an active partner. If not, let that person go so that they can find the one that’s going to love them the way they need to be loved.

[kafka-ish]

a long time coming | r.t.

when a familiar face shows itself in derry, a familiar feeling picks up in richie’s heart

word count: 8,012

warnings/included: nsfw (smut, fingering, and regular vanilla sex, first time stuff), fluff (like... a conspicuous amount of fluff), fem!reader

a/n: gL gamers

-

y/n y/l/n was coming back to Derry. 

To any other bystander, this wasn’t news. However, to Richie Tozier, it was because Richie Tozier loved y/n y/l/n.

He loved her when they were five and she had introduced herself as the girl who moved in next door. He loved her when they were ten and she made friendship bracelets for both of them (which he would later find out she made friendship bracelets for all the Losers). He loved her when they were thirteen when he should’ve spent his time running from the bullies at his toes instead. And he loved her when they were fifteen when he was writing love letters. But she’d never see them because she was away at some fancy boarding school in New York, per her parents’ request. 

“I don’t see why you gotta go,” Richie said glumly. He was looking down and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. Even if this would be the last time he’d ever see her, it would be too hard to look her in the eyes. 

Richie was the last one y/n told about Hoosac School. But if y/n had the option, she wouldn’t have told him at all. It was hard enough for her to bid her goodbyes to Bill, Stan, Eddie, Bev, Ben, and Mike. 

Naturally, Beverly was the first one she told. She was the only other girl in the Loser’s Club and the one y/n hung out with the most aside from Richie. Beverly was a blubbering mess. The brown mascara she applied delicately was running down her cheeks in ugly streaks and her red hair would sit tangled on her head for the next few days. 

Bill was next, but Bill knew everything. He found out from Bev the next day and confronted her about it at school. And y/n would sob into his shoulder and ask him what to do. 

“Tuh-tell the others,” he said sympathetically. 

So she did. 

She told Ben, Eddie, and Stan in her next period she shared with him. Ben sadly stroked her arm and told her he could have one of his CupCakes at lunch. y/n smiled, the sweet gesture easing the pain from her mind. And she told him she would take him up on that offer only if they were orange flavored.

Eddie cried that day, but he passed it off as an allergic reaction to the different brand of air freshener Mrs. Clarke used. Stan and Ben were just kind enough to believe him.

Stan was always the voice of reason. He told her this would be a great opportunity to learn new things and make new friends, but he also made her swear she’d write him—them—every week and call every night. He thought y/n would laugh at him for being clingy and compulsive but she didn’t. She took his hand in his, squeezing it firmly when she assured him she’d call every night and write every week.

But a certain sadness washed over her when it was Mike’s turn to receive the news.

It was on an early Saturday morning when he did. She offered to help him out with the farm—partly to spend time with him and partly to get some wear in her new overalls she’d thrifted before she left.

“I know… you’ve probably already heard.” y/n swallowed harshly before continuing. She was aimlessly shoveling a hole in the ground and she stared at the soil as if it were his brown eyes because this would be harder for her to say than harder for him to hear. “I’m leaving Derry.”

The sun wasn’t even up yet, but Mike was able to comprehend her words just fine. “When?” They were both turned away from each other—her working on the hole and him working on the bean sprouts.

“A month after school lets out. Don’t worry, Mikey. There’s still time for me to help you on the farm.”

“Just so you can dig holes in my daddy’s soil? I don’t think so.” Both y/n and Mike laughed. For a moment, y/n had forgotten about the packed boxes in her empty bedroom and the plane tickets her parents kept in an envelope for June the first.

And now y/n stood in front of Richie only a few days after she’d be boarding that plane because she’d been putting off telling him the way she did with the rest of the Losers.

y/n was staring at his forehead, desperately trying to meet his eyes. She didn’t care if the last time he’d be seeing her was with smudged mascara and red eyes, but she needed to see him. “My parents are making me,” she repeated. “If it were up to me I’d..”

“Don’t go,” Richie said abruptly, cutting her off. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her—even if her lips were bitten raw and her eyes welled with salty tears that he’d kiss away in his dreams when he went to bed that night. “To hell with your parents. You can live with me, kid. It’ll be like college but without the debt.”

y/n sniffed. Even though Richie was the funny one, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Maybe if the words were coming from Bill, Stan, or Ben, but not Richie. Not when her whole life was in front of her and there was no sign of him in it.

Richie frowned because if he couldn’t put a smile on her face, he didn’t know what would. A strong silence edged itself between the two of them. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. He pushed up his glasses lazily with his index finger to get a better look at the sad sight ahead of him who was poorly trying to contain her sobs.

“Hey, kid.” Richie took her in his lanky arms. Neither of them said anything after that, but Richie couldn’t help but think if he said those three words maybe she wouldn’t have left.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” She’d say. They’d spend their next three years together attached to the hip before college sweeps them away. But they’d find each other later in life; at a record shop or on the streets of New York. y/n would ask “Richie, is that really you?” And Richie would reply in his British-man Voice:

“’Ello, luv. Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

y/n would be left in a stunned sort of silence for a while—not because she was unsure if the person standing in front of her was him, but because she was in awe. In awe that she finally found him.

But now Richie didn’t have to wait. He didn’t have to wallow in his own pity because the girl he loved was no longer two states away, but a couple of minutes away as he paced back in forth in Stan’s room.

“Calm down, Richie.” Stan was laying on his bed, trying to ignore his friend’s loud footsteps. Even though he had forced Richie to take his shoes off before coming into his house, his feet still thumped loudly against the floor. He was uncharacteristically thrusting a baseball between his two palms. It cut through the air smoothly as it moved side to side in his soft hands.

“What do you mean calm down?” Richie stopped in his tracks so he could shoot him a cold stare. “How am I supposed to calm down?” His heavy steps had resumed. Stan sighed.

“Just don’t make such a big deal out of—”

“Don’t give me that shit, Stan.” Richie groaned and went to tug on the friendship bracelet y/n gave him from when they were in grade school. It was a habit he’d picked up when y/n left. Whenever he got nervous, or irritated, or missed her, his right hand would find his left and wind around the memento. Arguably, that friendship bracelet could be deduced to a tangle of old, ratty strings; better yet, trash. But in Richie’s magnified eyes, it was still the same bracelet made of vibrant blue and green yarn y/n had bought from the craft store and braided with her small, meticulous fingers.

“What shit?” Stan scoffed because sometimes Richie could be irrational. “It’s called honesty. And honestly, it’s just y/n. What could go wrong?”

What could go wrong? Hell, everything could go wrong. She could forget who I am. Or better yet, she would remember and hate me.

“She won’t hate you,” Stan said unconvincingly in his usual monotone voice. It was like he could Richie’s mind, but Richie was obvious when it came to this stuff. Painfully obvious.

“Wuh-what’cha guh-guh-guys talking ab-bout?” Bill let himself into the room without knocking. Neither of the two boys minded. “I br-brought my bb-b-base-ball cards. But I’m keeping the Babe Ruth—”

“We’re not trading today, Bill.” Stan put down the leathery ball which sat in his left hand and sat up exasperatedly.

“W-we’re not?” An odd sort of sadness flicked across his usually bright features and he pocketed the collectibles. “Ih-ih-if we weren’t you sh-sh… could’ve cuh-called me fuh-fifteen minutes ago.” He went down to sit on Stan’s bed with him but was met with a harsh stare and a scolding instead.

“Take your shoes off!” He screeched and Bill toed off his old, beat-up Keds.

“So, wuh-what are we doing… if wuh-we’re not trading?” Bill asked.

“Richie just wants to talk.” Bill’s nose scrunched like a child who had just been informed liver was for dinner.

“T-t-t-talk? Get a s-s-sex change while you’re at it.”

Both Stan and Bill laughed, and Richie only grumbled. “C’mon, guys.” His pacing had yet again stopped but Stan knew he wouldn’t stay still for long. “What should I do?”

Then, Bill knew what they were talking about. It wasn’t a secret that Richie liked y/n. But like was an understatement. It just remained unsaid between the Losers. Either because Richie wouldn’t hear the end of it if they did talk about it or because… what was there to talk about? There were only so many times six boys and one girl could sing ‘Richie loves y/n’ until it got old.

“Wuh-well…” The rest of Bill’s words were swallowed by a heavy build-up of saliva and replaced with new ones before either Stan or Richie could chime in. “What do yo-you wanna do?”

“Aw, man. Lots of things.” Richie took a seat next to Bill on the edge of Stan’s neatly made bed. Stan groaned and shoved a pillow over his flushed face. He was torn between wanting to hear the details and hating that Richie was taking this conversation to a sappy turn. “The first thing I’d do would probably pull her in for a hug and kiss her cheek… And then I’d—”

“Beep Beep, Richie.” Stan’s muffled voice came from under the pillow and Bill laughed in agreement.

“Kuh-kiss?” Bill asked skeptically.

“Yeah. I know that’s new vocabulary to you, Big Bill, but—”

“No,” Bill said, ignoring Richie’s previous, rude, comment. “I mm-mean, you cuh-cuh-can’t kiss y/n.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Richie said, only half-listening to what Bill was saying. But Bill’s next statement grabbed Richie’s (and Stan’s) full attention.

“I cuh-can’t. But her b-boyfriend wuh-houldn’t like it.”

“y/n has a boyfriend?” Both Stan and Richie said in unison. The pillow flew from Stan’s face and his eyes were now widened with interest.

“How’d you find out?” Stan sandwiched himself between Bill and Richie. Richie was almost falling off the bed and he wanted to scoff because if anything he was more a part of the conversation than Ol’ Stanny Boy.

“Oh-oh-over the phone. Sh-sh-she called muh-me and s-s-s-said some-thing about a guh-guy named Tr-Tr-Trevor Mmm-Martin. Nuh-Nothing s-s-serious at the tuh-time. Bb-but…”

Richie didn’t catch the bullshit spewing from Bill’s big mouth. His head was busy spinning in all different directions, and he felt as if he were going to puke. Though there were no signs of the tuna salad sandwich and salt and vinegar chips Stan and he shared trekking its way up to his throat and onto Stan’s just shampooed carpet. Was this what heartbreak felt like?

If so, it was one son of a bitch.

Richie couldn’t seem to enjoy himself for the rest of the day—or the rest of the week, for that matter. He didn’t laugh when Stan cracked a joke that Bill laughed at (something about Jews getting their dicks cut off as an alternative to hell). He didn’t race home to greet the girl next door he’d been longing to see. And he didn’t feel anything when that same girl was pressed against his chest during the scary part of the movie all of the Losers had planned to see.

It was a sort of ‘welcome back’ celebration for y/n. This whole week, actually, would be dedicated to y/n in regard to her return. Stan, Eddie, and Mike were the first ones at the theatre. They waited outside of the Aladdin Theatre, all three in a line while Stan checked his watch for what seemed to be hundredth time and Eddie counted the change in his pocket, hoping it’d be enough for snacks.

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie,” Mike reassured. He patted him on the back. It was firm but gentle at the same time. It calmed him. “If you don’t have enough for snacks, me or someone else can spot you. And don’t worry about paying back.”

Eddie visibly relaxed at his words but Mike didn’t know why he was all of the sudden anxious about something like that.

Just then, Bill and Bev came up. Beverly’s hair was held back in a blue cowboy bandana, a contrast to her red hair, as a makeshift hairband. Her white blouse almost blended against her pale skin and her blue jeans chafed because of how fast she was skipping. Bill was falling behind but he didn’t really care. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his denim board shorts and he walked—strolled—down the sidewalk as if he had all the time in the world.

“I’m so excited!” A harsh squeal erupted from Beverly’s lips and Eddie had to cup his hands over his ears.

“Jesus, Bev. You could blow out an eardrum with those lungs.” But he wasn’t too impressed with her vocal range.

Ben and Richie came up together. They were talking about some new comic issue—Ben looked really into it, but Richie just wanted to avoid the topic of y/n that he was sure was now prevalent in everyone’s minds. Beverly gave him a knowing smirk when the two finally reached the group and Richie displayed his best ‘what-the-fuck-do-you-mean’ expression when he really did know what the fuck she meant.

This left y/n to be the last of the Losers to arrive.

The rubber sole of Richie’s beat up left slip-on tapped impatiently against the hot cement. “How long does it take to get ready?”

“Do you think she got lost?” Ben asked curiously, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“We should go in. Y’know so seats don’t get taken.” Before the rest of the group could protest Richie’s lame idea in attempts to boycott seeing their long-lost friend, a familiar voice piped up.

“That’s awfully rude of you Tozier.” Richie turned around to see y/n. How could a person look the same, yet totally different at the same time? Her hair was longer from when he last saw her and there was a new glow in her eyes that Richie couldn’t help but think meant she lost her innocence. He could’ve sworn she got taller, but she was also wearing platform wedges with little white flowers on the straps which matched her baby blue sundress that came just above the knee.

“y/n!” Beverly was the first to say. She ran the not far distance between them and enraptured her into a tight hug. “I missed you so much! I can’t believe you left me here… with all boys.”

y/n didn’t miss a beat of Beverly’s sarcasm and rolled her eyes. “I know, how could I? I’m such a monster.” The two giggled for an ungodly amount of time which the boys summed up to a sort of telepathic communication between the two.

Ben was next to greet y/n. He said she and he could share a pack of Donettes this time and a nostalgic smile crinkled her eyes as she remembered how he shared his dessert with him when she left.

Mike, Eddie, and Stan were next. Mike told her that while there’s no work to be done on his father’s farm, they could still hang out. Eddie hugged her just like Bev had. And Stan scolded her for being late but then whispered a ‘thanks’ for keeping her promise of writing to him, even if it wasn’t every week.

y/n lingered behind to say hi to Bill when he opened the door for everyone.

“Luh-luh-long time no s-s-see. Stranger.” y/n didn’t realize the Losers were waiting for them.

“Nice to see you, too.” She nudged Bill’s arm with her elbow and walked in. They didn’t say much to each other because nothing had to be said. They had an unspoken connection. Bill was like her brother. Always knew what to say. Always there for her…

Richie was the last to greet y/n because unlike Bill, he didn’t know what to say. He could feel the words dancing on his tongue, but he knew they’d come out in either a stutter or gibberish. He was waiting at the candy counter, drumming his fingers on the glass while Ben ordered a large popcorn and Donettes. Mike paid for his own strawberry licorice whips—none of the Losers partook in his favorite candy. Beverly only got a soda, and Eddie bought his own personal popcorn, but if Stan asked, he could have a few kernels.

“Hi.” Richie looked like he had seen a ghost when y/n came up next to him. He shouldn’t have been startled by her, but he was.

“Hey…” He held off on calling her a cheeky nickname because she had a boyfriend and that would be wrong, and he had morals—

“Are you getting anything?”

That depends, are you for sale? Beep beep, Rich.

“Nothing really…really caught my eye.” He glanced at the menu one more time as if he hadn’t had it memorized from the thousands of other times he’s been there—alone or not.

“That’s too bad. I thought we could share a popcorn?” y/n asked hopefully. “Or a soda? If you’re trying to cut down on carbs.”

Richie laughed. “I thought you and Ben were sharing those mini nightmares.” His hand dove into his pocket anyway. You can never be too sure, right?

“It’s called balance,” y/n said all too knowingly. “Have you ever heard of salty and sweet makes the perfect combination?” She eyed him through her mascara coated lashes that he remembered from three years ago and Richie heard himself calling one of the girls at the concessions stand over for a large popcorn. Extra butter.

Was she the sweet and Trevor was the salty one of the pair? His mind was numb during the movie, except for the one persisting thought he couldn’t help but circle back to. y/n and Trevor sitting in a tree…

He felt the armrest that divided the seats fly up and a trembling body wiggle itself next to his. Her arms latched onto his torso tightly and her head buried itself into his tacky Hawaiian shirt. Slowly, Richie began to fall from his catatonic state. His eyes drifted down to her figure, squinting in the darkness of the theatre.

“Hey…” His large hand smoothed over her hair in petting motions as he cooed into her ear. “It’s all… this stuff’s all fake. It’s not real.” Her quiet, pathetic sobs continued throughout the rest of the movie. Richie still consoled her.

Only until the lights drew up and the Losers were the last to leave an empty theatre decorated with chewed up bubble gum, candy wrappers, and the remains of popcorn on the floor did y/n remove herself from his shirt.

“Sorry.” y/n cleared her throat and sat up straight as if nothing happened. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a horror movie.” She laughed, making fun of her own pitifulness.

“It was a h-h-horror movie. Not a d-d-drama.” Bill rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his lips.

“Girls, am I right?” Stan scoffed. He stood up, about to be the first of the Losers to leave the room until he stopped in front of y/n’s chair. “Don’t worry, I almost shat my pants.” Richie overheard him whisper in her hear.

y/n tried to eat the giggles trying to escape her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. Her laughter echoed in the empty theatre and the rest of her friends laughed with her. They didn’t understand what she was laughing at, they just missed the sound of her voice after so long.

Her small hand slipped into Richie’s sweaty one when the group met daylight which Mike was surprised at, even though they entered the Aladdin at one.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, shaken up. They had officially fallen behind from the group, but it wasn’t like either of them cared. He took his hand from hers, opting to hold his own. Once his hand left hers he immediately missed the feeling. The warmth. The comfort. But his own would have to fair as a substitute for now.

“Just like old times… I thought.” y/n was flabbergasted at Richie’s antsiness. He wasn’t like this three years ago. Three years ago, he would’ve gladly accepted her hand in his. Three years ago, he would’ve scooped up her hand claiming that he doesn’t want her catching cold even though they stood in the summer heat.

Richie twirled his fingers around the end of his shirt. Old times. But the old times were different.

Richie Tozier was thirteen years old when he finally got his own bike to ride. He no longer had to ride double on Silver or walk to any of the functions that the Losers had planned. It wasn’t embarrassing, but no boy wanted to show up to the quarry or Aladdin Theatre riding on the back of Bill Denbrough’s bike, his arms actually wrapped around him. Especially if y/n would be seeing him.

So, he requested his parents buy him a bicycle of his own. Preferably green with a large bell so everyone knows when Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was coming. Pretty please.

And after a few months, his parents finally complied. It was green but it, however, did not come with a bell.

“You’ll just have to come up with the money for that one on your own, son.” His dad told him. But that was fine by Richie. And he excitedly pedaled off to the Aladdin where his friends would be soon, in hopes to impress a certain somebody.

“W-w-wow, Ruh-Ruh-Richie. You got a bike?” Bill asked. He wondered why his friend never gave him a call, asking to come pick and him up—he just assumed he was walking today.

“Yeppers.” Richie proudly rode circles around his friends with his new ET Kuwahara. He couldn’t wait until y/n saw him on it.

“Wh-wh-when?” Bill was the most curious out of the group. He would miss hitching Richie rides, but he wouldn’t miss how tight his arms seemed to wind against his chest.

“Like, yesterday.” Richie shrugged and he was the last one to park his bike. He kept riding circles around the empty Sunday street until y/n and Bev showed up. y/n didn’t have a bike and Bev always walked with her out of courtesy.

“Hey, wide ride!” Beverly called while Richie tried to pop a wheelie.

“Stop it,” y/n giggled but Richie was too lost in his own world to hear her. Eventually, he parked it; carelessly setting it down with Silver and Stan’s, Eddie’s, Ben’s, and Mike’s bike. “You got a bike?” y/n asked, coming up from behind him. Richie grinned.

“Yeah, do ya like?” y/n nodded wordlessly.

“Green’s not my color, though… Why’d you get a bike?”

“’Cause riding double is lame.” He shrugged and they entered the movie theatre together while the rest of their friends waited for them. “Anywho, how ‘bout I take you home tonight?”

“I thought you said riding double was lame,” y/n repeated his words even though she didn’t think that.

“Well—you see… What I meant was—”

“Just kidding, Tozier. Only you think riding double is lame anyway.” y/n found herself giggling while paying for her small popcorn which Richie would end up sticking his fingers into later on.

So, Richie took her home that night (and the rest of the nights the Losers met up). Her arms wrapped around his torso in the way he used to wrap his around Bill’s. At first, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but that could’ve been because there was a pretty girl sitting behind him and he would be responsible if they got hurt.

After a while, though, he got used to it. And the arms slung around his chest were like a seatbelt. Once in awhile, y/n would rest her chin against her shoulder. And if she were tuckered out from swimming or any of the other adventures the Losers were up against that day, he would find her dozing on his back. The breeze from his ET Kuwahara ripping through the hot air felt nice and a kind of superiority swelled in Richie’s chest for being the cause of that breeze.

The same breeze swept over y/n and Richie. The group was now long gone from their eye line, but they would’ve been anyway because of the path Richie and y/n would take to get home.

Richie had been oddly silent until they reached their houses; side by side, just like how the two friends stood. y/n took it upon herself to break that silence, but his jitters were contagious.

“We’re meeting up at the quarry tomorrow.” She turned to face him as she stood on the highest step of her doorstep. He was still taller than her.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Richie tried his best to avoid her steady watch that followed him, but it was hard. He so desperately wanted to see the twinkle in her ambitious, yet caring eyes which he missed. It wasn’t looking at her that was wrong, it was his thoughts—and Richie knew that—he just couldn’t bring himself to look at her while thinking those thoughts.

“You’re coming right?” Insecurity wavered in her voice. Richie was being weird. Richie was always weird, but something was… wrong. He didn’t greet her the first day she came home. y/n eventually concluded that she was just being selfish and that Richie was probably busy that day. But now Richie was being distant. Richie was never distant.

“’Ve been thinkin’ about it. You know I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see Bev in her swimsuit—”

“Beep beep.” y/n wanted to laugh. She wanted to assume he was joking and think nothing more of it because that’s who Richie is. A jokester. Her heart couldn’t help but pang at the words and instantaneously the palms of her hands felt clammy. “Can you meet me beforehand? I thought we could go together?”

“Together?” Richie’s voice cracked.

“Yeah, goofball.” Again, her eyes searched for his under his mess of brown hair and coke bottle glasses, but they were playing a serious game of hide-and-seek. “I mean, it only makes sense.” She thought fast. “We live next door to each other.” And Richie realized this was only an act of convenience.

“Shore, shore, senhorritaa.” Richie couldn’t find the courage in himself—only in one of his Voices and y/n smiled, suddenly remembering how often he’d do impressions when they were kids.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” y/n said curtly.

“Tomorrow,” Richie replied cooly when he was anything but. Especially when he paced his own room, the same way he did in Stan’s, when he should’ve been at her door already.

He was only wearing the swim trunks (he had since he was fifteen and hadn’t bothered to replace) that resembled the shirts he wore, and he was debating on if he should put on a shirt or leave as he is. Or leave at all. It was going to be hot today. The weather forecast predicted to be in the nineties. Richie didn’t want to show up indecent, but he also didn’t want to sweat the whole walk there.

Two—that somehow felt like ten—aggravating minutes later, Richie stood at y/n’s door wearing a yellow shirt over his dark blue, tropical swim shorts. His forefinger hovered over the doorbell for a few seconds until he finally bit the bullet and took the bait. You’re gonna do it eventually, just do it now.

It swung open excitedly, revealing his favorite girl who stood behind it. “Come in!” She said and wasted no time to lead him up to her room.

Richie took a moment to catch his breath and take in his new surroundings. Her room seemed unchanged at first and he laughed at the grey, Victorian-style wallpaper that neither y/n nor her parents had taken down yet. But the longer he stood there, the more he noticed how bare it was. The room was stripped of any decorations she once had (except for her bed and desk)—replaced by brown moving boxes. It became apparent to Richie how much time she had spent away from the group. Even though she was here with them now, she had fabricated a life outside of the Losers Club. That fact hurt him, but a sort of curiosity burned inside of him. He wanted to know the new her, but they also had to get to the quarry at a certain time.

“When do we gotta be there by?” Richie asked. He was drawn out of his daydream by his own words and noticed y/n who was turned around in front of him. She was wearing a black, ruffled bikini that complimented her skin beautifully but barely covered the parts that should.

“Two-thirty… but I don’t think they’d mind if we show up early or late.” y/n shrugged as her fingers fumbled with the bikini strings that tied the top. “Can you help me with this?” She turned to him. If Richie picked any time to finally meet her eyes, he picked the worst timing. y/n’s neck craned to the side whilst she still struggled with her top. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him.

“Why’re you asking me?” Richie feigned a chuckle but walked over to her regardless. She angled her body dangerously close to his causing Richie to bite his lip, imprisoning the sharp gasp that threatened to depart from his lips. Cautiously, his hands took the strings from her and tied them into a sloppy bow with a double knot so it wouldn’t come undone anytime soon.

“’Cause you’re here, Tozier.” He made eye contact with her. “What’s been up with you lately?”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You’ve been distant… really distant.” y/n’s honesty made it hard for Richie to catch a break. “Do you think I haven’t noticed when you pulled away from me yesterday and…”

“And what?” Richie probed. His hands rested on either sides of his hips. He tried to hide any sign of nervousness in his voice, but it was hard to fake what you were.

“It’s stupid.” Obviously, y/n didn’t want to drop the topic of conversation. She didn’t want to coerce the boy into something either.

“Nothing you say, think, or do is stupid, y/n/n.” Richie chuckled once more though this time y/n could tell he wasn’t faking anything.

“You didn’t greet me when I first came home.” She mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t hear her. But he did. “Why was that?”

“I dunno… Bill told me something.” Richie wanted to drop a brick over his head because honestly, how stupid did he sound right now? y/n didn’t have to say anything. The skepticism in her eyes and her bottom lip between her teeth was enough to prompt him further. “He said you have a boyfriend and I just—”

“You just what?” Her words were mysterious. Richie couldn’t seem to read her anymore because the only telling expression she had was a raised eyebrow and cocked head. But that could mean anything.

“I really like you, okay? And how are you supposed to greet someone you’re in love with after not seeing them for three years when you can’t hug them or-or kiss them cos they went off and got a stinkin’ high and mighty boyfriend in New York? New York, for Christ’s sake. It was hard enough to look at you before but now—” Richie’s rambling was quickly cut off when y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed against his. Her fingers tangled in the loops of his hair and his glasses pushed up against her face. “What was that for?” Richie asked, completely dumbfounded.

“Stop listening to Bill,” y/n instructed. She was amused by the boy in front of her.

“What?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She brushed a strand of hair from out of his eyes and adjusted his now crooked glasses.

“But Bill said—”

“Bill’s stupid.” Her lips met his again. The kiss was longer this time. y/n’s were soft and tasted like the artificial cherry flavoring from her chapstick she had applied prior; a contradiction to the faint scent of tangerines that clung to her bare skin and the spicy bite of peppermint on her tongue.

His wet tongue traced the inside of her mouth, lingering on the inside of her cheek. y/n bit down on the fullest part of Richie’s bottom lip tentatively, making sure not to hurt him. She could feel his smile lines against her thumb when she removed her left hand from his hair, using it to cup his cheek. y/n pulled from him abruptly, leaving Richie floored and panting.

“You don’t think the crew would care if we showed up late?” Richie asked, his eyebrows wiggling with the new burst of confidence that kiss had given him.

y/n shook her head. A grin bestowed itself upon her swollen lips. Her arms re-enveloped themselves around his figure that towered over her. Richie copied her actions. Except his hands ghosted across the back of her naked torso covered in goosebumps from the spur of the moment. They created an invisible trail to her clothed butt, cueing y/n to jump up.

She did and Richie’s large hands supported her legs that wound around his waist. “Do you wanna…?”

“Yes,” y/n whispered into his ear. At that, a shiver crawled down Richie’s spine.

It became harder for Richie to contain his excitement as he walked the two of them over to y/n’s bed. He was gentle when he set her down on the mattress covered in grey sheets and stuffed pillows. The feeling of the cotton bed sleeves cooled her hot skin although she would need an icepack to completely bring her temperature down.

Richie was on top of her. His lips tickled face that he left quick, unperceivable marks on. When she got the chance, y/n took in his appearance thoughtfully. It was evident that his unruly hair was thrown in all different directions due to y/n’s hands that were knotted in it. There was a blush on his freckled cheeks that resembled a sunburn and he wore a look. It was soft and welcoming like he was an astrologist who had just found out she was responsible for putting the stars in the sky.

But the stars were her eyes as they held the same sparkle from yesterday at the theatre.

“Have you…have you?” Richie’s eyes hesitantly raked down her half nude body from behind his glasses, still held together with adhesive tape. They couldn’t help but slide down the slope of his long nose and y/n pushed them up for him.

“No,” y/n said bashfully. She ducked her head down only for it to be lifted back up with Richie’s thumb and forefinger.

“Do you want this?” He tried not to pose the question awkwardly, but how can you make a question like that not awkward?

“Of course.” y/n’s hand, still playing with the hairs on the back of his head, guided his face towards hers. The two met in a sweet kiss for a sweet second. “As long as it’s with you.” Her tone was confident and assuring, leaving Richie with no extra questions.

“You really know how to flatter a guy, y/n/n.” Richie still marveled at the sight splayed out before him and a melodious sound filled his ears. It was her laugh, but all of his senses seemed to be amplified to the max during this moment.

Both of her hands coasted down to the hem of his stupid, banana-colored shirt that served as a barrier between the two. Her light touches made his breath catch in his throat, released in a throaty gasp, and his once loose shorts now felt strained and uncomfortable. Ignoring the occasional breaths that left Richie’s perfect mouth, y/n’s fingers tugged on the end of his shirt; a signal for him to take the damn thing off.

Instantly, his shirt was off and thrown on her floor. In his head, he thanked that her room wasn’t fully unpacked yet but another part of him thought he and y/n wouldn’t even make it to the quarry. y/n ran two fingers down his smooth chest; the tips of her fingers sent a tingling sensation throughout his being. Richie seized them once they reached his abdomen, his grasp firm but tender. Slowly, he led her fingers with his to the crotch of her bikini. The black material was soaked through. Richie smirked to himself, she’d have to change again before they left for the quarry. Or they could just not go at all.

Her own touch had elicited a moan from y/n. Her head fell back on the grey cushions, exposing her pure neck that begged to be marked. The sighs of pleasure coming from the girl beneath him while he directed her hand that was now slipping into the bottoms of her bikini felt straight from one of his fantasies. He could only hope he wasn’t dreaming, and if he were, he’d just have to remember it for another lonely night in the sheets.

y/n’s fingers danced over her clit. She inhaled sharply at the teasing feeling. Richie’s hand moved to tightly hold her wrist, the contact burned against her already hot skin. His mind was drawing a blank again; lost in the moment. Lost in her. Another moan left her mouth, her breath hit his face, and Richie imagined how she touched herself when she was away at school. Did she think about him the same way he thought about her? Did she wonder what lied behind his pants like how he had on multiple occasions?

For the time being, Richie’s questions would have to be left unanswered. He felt her hand leave her bathing suit and his hand detached itself from her wrist. A blotchy red handprint was left in its place from his harsh grip and before Richie could ask if she was okay, y/n was kicking off the at once restricting clothing. Her lower half was now completely revealed, all for him. Vulnerability, a feeling y/n had only felt on the plane ride alone to New York and on her first date with Trevor, took its rightful place in her chest that lifted and fell at a rapid speed. Her thighs instinctively rubbed together, part out of insecurity, and also to relieve herself, but Richie stopped them before they could make another move.

His right palm had settled on her left thigh, gently separating it from its counterpart while his left palm kept busy as it laid flat on her mattress and held him up. Richie’s index finger toyed with her clit, much like she had done before, and then probed her entrance. Her walls generously coated his first finger with the same nucleus that slicked her now tainted swimsuit. His middle finger entered with the same proficiency and care. Richie’s fingers were long and slender, and they did well to effortlessly curl into the spot that y/n could never seem to find on her own. Richie grunted at the sound of another pretty sound leaving y/n’s pretty lips. But this sound was different.

“Richie,” she moaned breathlessly. Richie, again, came painfully aware of the tent in his shorts. But this time was for y/n, not him.

In and out. In and out. His fingers moved at the relatively same, slow, and predictable pace that didn’t fail to evoke the dirty noises coming from y/n which might suggest otherwise. He continued these movements until her pulse picked up and a coil inside snapped.

Richie Tozier was y/n’s first orgasm.

And second, as he withdrew his hand from her, swapping his fingers for him. He stripped himself of his shorts so that the two now pressed together, even—this excluded the upper half of y/n that was still covered.

Richie hovered over the girl. The girl who moved next door at the ripe age of five, not knowing the impact she’d have on his life. The girl who crafted him and the Losers Club individual friendship bracelets that were tied around his wrist to this day. The girl who moved away too soon. The girl who’d share his first time with him. The girl he loved.

“Can I?” He asked timidly. The thumb and index finger of his right hand pinched at the black strap which prevented her top from falling down—which, ironically, was exactly what Richie wanted. y/n nodded. Her eyes were still shut from the intense euphoria she was still recovering from. First, Richie unclipped the back strap. Then, his hands moved to the thinner strap he’d tied earlier. His knees were holding him up, straddling over y/n’s waist. A wave of frustration overcame him when his fingers clumsily messed with the frocking double-knotted bow. A quiet mutter, “gotcha”, unintentionally rolled off of Richie’s tongue.

y/n giggled at his antics—not to make fun of him, but because he was cute.

The constrictive article of clothing fell from her bodice, uncovering her hardened nipples and flawless breasts.

Richie ducked his head down. Instead of meeting her lips, his mouth wrapped around the still perky bud. Licking, and sucking until breaths turned to whines and whines turned to his name.

Richie. Richie. Richie.

After giving both the same amount of attention, he kissed her. His lips brushed against hers and time felt like it had somehow stopped when y/n felt him enter her.

It was daunting at first. And Richie thumbed away a tear that raced down y/n’s cheek when she had finally taken his whole length.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” Richie murmured—his nose brushing against her cheekbone as he did so.

“Rich…Richie.”

“Yes, gorgeous?” y/n could melt at the nickname, but she didn’t; the rest of her senses too carried away in his intoxicating scent of Spice… Something… and the stimulation of him filling her.

“Can you move?” y/n asked in quiet, broken words.

Richie didn’t say anything. He just slipped out from her only to push back in. The sensation of her tight walls around him was enough to be the reason of his gasps and the resounding echoes of her name that pleasantly escaped his parted lips. His thrusts were steady and gradual—much like his fingers from earlier but… different.

y/n’s back arched into Richie’s front. Both of their pants quickened, and y/n didn’t have to ask to know what this meant.

“Richie,” y/n mewled. Richie’s pace accelerated, pulling them both to their highs. y/n’s eyes rolled back from under her heavy lids. On the other hand, the boy above her had frantically removed himself from her. She would finish on his fingers like once before and he didn’t need any more ushering to find his end.

“y/n.” The moan belonged to Richie this time, and he collapsed onto the newly soiled sheets next to the girl whose name he just spoke. “I love you.” Richie didn’t intend for the words to come out. They just did. He suspected y/n was none the wiser, still trying to catch her breath from when she came.

“What?”

Richie was wrong.

“I love you,” Richie repeated, but he hadn’t intended to say it again either. He was running on autopilot now. His eyes squeezed closed, preparing for y/n to yell at him. Why would you drop the bomb like this? To kick him out.

But she didn’t.

“I love you, too.” She wasn’t facing him, so he had to trust she meant the words. He had to trust she wasn’t actually repulsed at the thought of the guy who’d just stolen her virginity and would never talk to him afterward.

“You…you do?” Richie realized he was laying butt-naked on top of y/n’s sheets and he wouldn’t be shocked if his face were mistaken for a tomato right about now.

“Yeah.” The bed shifted under her turning weight because she was now laying on her side, facing him. Her eyes roamed his milky skin and her fingers apprehensively traced an outline on his arm. Richie didn’t think he would ever get used to her silk skin and feather fingertips. “You’re supposed to lose it to the person you love, right?”

Richie’s heart was already digging its grave. “Yeah.” He swallowed dryly. His hand found hers—the one that was inking an invisible fence on his skin—and weaved his fingers with hers. He didn’t know what else to say but he didn’t have to.

“You still wear this?” y/n was incredulous and judging by the tone of her voice, Richie figured she found the friendship bracelet he still wore. Treasured.

“It’d make me a monster to trash it.” Richie faced her now and y/n laughed whilst her pink lips grazed his knuckles.

“I still have mine.” She raised her eyebrow. Was this a challenge?

“Pish, posh, dahhling. Proof or it’s not real,” he said in his god-awful British-man Voice.

y/n let go of his hand, leaving it for the coldness to slowly eat away. She leapt off her bed and dashed to her desk. She opened one of the side drawers and fished around for a dinky little yarn bracelet that would match his, only she used red and yellow string rather than blue and green.

She skipped over to him, not caring that she was undressed or that they had to be somewhere. A braided bracelet, similar to his, dangled in front of Richie’s tired face and he smiled. Unlike Richie’s, y/n’s bracelet was in perfect condition—just like it had looked from when they were ten.

“I can make you another one,” y/n said, noticing how worn Richie’s was. It was almost falling apart.

“Nah. I like the rugged look.” Richie bared his teeth to her. It must’ve been the fifth time she laughed that day.

“Do you still wanna go?” y/n asked. She didn’t meet his gaze; too focused on slipping the bracelet over her hand. It seemed she had outgrown the thing.

“Go where?” Richie hummed and snaked his arms around her once more.

“The quarry.” His eyes widened and suddenly Richie didn’t feel tired anymore.

“Do we have to?” He whined as if he were still a child.

“I guess not.” y/n gave in; relaxing into his arms. “You can help me unpack.”

“Or…” Richie’s lips pecked her forehead.

“I guess there’s a reason why they call you Trashmouth.” y/n nuzzled into the crook of his neck. His fingers drew lazy shapes on her bare back in attempts to convince her. But y/n didn’t need convincing. Now that she found a home in his arms, she would never leave.

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