#and i was making you a wish in every skyline

[earnedmagic]

very good fence we saw in coastal oregon

#who the hell is bucky #interior design #i was making you a wish in every skyline

[merevide]

#and every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips and i was making you a wish in every skylineeee #and meanwhile a man was falling through space and everyday I WORE YOUR FACE #this is poetry. this is one of the songs of all time if i’m being real #f+tm #my text #Spotify

[astralnymphh]

saturated sanctity

tonguefucking raw in the barn, away from dina's eyes ౨ৎ

. part two 𝜗𝜚

❛you had cunt on your mind, 'n cum on your breath❜

PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER > .ᐟ ♡. summary; a chore so innocent and prosaic, far from featherbedding and near to plucking grain from your scalp– turns for the worst, or the best? i soundly connote, fornication ventured on two bends of eager knees, drinking you from beneath the hood 𐙚 .ᐟ ♡. cw; depictions of infidelity, homewrecking, semi-risky sex, jealousy, bit angsty, tension, guilt, pining, tears are shed, playing around, lusting, clit stim (r, fingers and oral), fingering (r), pussy eating (r), scant nipple stim (r), ass groping, ass slapping, breast groping, swallowing slick, pussy slapping, steamy make-out buildup, dirty talk, needy ellie, smug ellie as usual, dom!ellie, sub!reader (i swear sub!ellie is coming next chapter) domestic acts, bold text is flashback dialogue, petnames; babe, baby, good girl (lmk if i missed anything) .ᐟ ♡. pairing; farm!ellie x farmhand!reader .ᐟ ♡. a/n; ending feels a little lazy but it is what it is. hey i'll pull through on ss3 that's like the smut crux, if u get my jizzst..

✵ masterlist ✵ series masterlist ✵ got too lazy 2 proofread right away ✵ WC; 9.8k+

VOLUME TWO - The skin that flakes/ Under the hood

𝄞

Indulgences have the gall to peck at you. 

Pecky and prickly as the oncoming hens do, handwriting–on–the–wall misgivings that throttle you off a steady minute by minute track. Small nuances under light of sun kept doing so this week, numerous things apropos of bawdy suggestions wisped by that reckless pink snake of hers– always mere footsteps from running into Dina, ‘I think it would be, really, reaaally hot if you didn’t wear your p-panties at the table, tonight..’ always brain–caked in a bit of alcohol, hiccuping. Or, even when a cold cuff cocoons the hind of your upper–thigh, an inch below the crease of your butt and done as she passes like a ghost behind you in the kitchen. 

A plum bruise should have formed from how often you flicked that forehead of hers. But no, of course no. The only thing that formed each time was a cocky curl into her lips, corkscrewing those fine hazel freckles connate to a whirlpool in water.

Owing to the fact that she lacked sufficient care from you, has her pouting when you deny her. Denied her of that fiendish wish to lie beside each other– even if it be upon that packed sofa, or– of her vehement dreams, reposing within sniffing distance of an ambery lit fireplace, running her work–worn fingertips along your hill of chest, letting the beat beneath your breast verse in her hands a tale to beckon her own in accordance, toasting aflutter with love. She would push a kind pressure to said breast, emboss prints to squishy skin, mold it to her liking, and smirk when your nipple erects and bends under her hardy palm. 

On the other hand, woe of denial, she sought Dina in your figment. When she wasn't courting twisted fingers up your billowing skirt, she instead smelt her heart in twisting her from the inside out, which– even more woefully, gave Dina the impression that Ellie had come crawling back on starved knees. Woe is her, to misreckon and take what she thought was hers to safekeep.

Arteries, wrenched and awreck, you felt a toy in contrast to what really stood. Worry. 

Worries are the hens, pecking at you.

Will Dina catch you two here? Over there? This night, or the inbound day? Tines of time aren't obligated to tell, ringing of peril whenever they yen a sign to sow.

Thoughts would only continue to foment come light of day.

A lemony sun has risen beyond the hill laden skyline, plucking rays for your wake. Muted orange tones mingle and caper into flaming reds on the crest of your sealed eyelids, caught just as you bid adieu to your cotton sogged dream. For dreams die, at every crossroad.

“Mhh..” the gentlest brush of breath hinders sun washed quietude split, and a set of toes curving down to a stretch. Achy aches ache, as there’s enough ache to go around for farm hands such as you, ugh right? 

Disturbing be the sunlight drawing blinding rays on your bleary pupils, attempting to shade out familiar nooks of your room. Ah, there we go, hues of sable dark in unvisited corners and shyly crowding the light, fluid out of the clear glass pane. As the couch is situated opposite of this blaring window, it greets you quite rudely. 

The moment colors begin to mature and petrify within your vision, you're already hiking up a foot and rocking your bottom off the quaint sofa, veering a peek to the indent left. Slept like a log, huh? Feet plant weight on plods carrying you towards the wardrobe, grantingly aside the wide pearl–border window, flitting a forearm up to block incoming light. 

A huff bloats your cheeks and pouts ducky lips, then grumbling a burden off your shoulders, “Hhhmmmm..” no truer words were spoken.

You lodge fingers in oaken crevices and pull a sundry of drawers from their frame, rubbing cotton on wool as you dig without aim on what you may don, this or that, with which and what, where and when. Blah, yawn, bored, you avert your gaze on lucent glass and scrutinize a pine bough panorama– only for your eyes to spring and espy a sparkle.

A gleam of skin.

And a tuft of copper.

Ellie.

Her torso fit in a white ribbed tank, soaked in hues of gray at the dip cut collar, and handsomely clung to her perky breasts. An arm raises, a graceful length likeness of a canopy above her head, stretching freckled flesh over toned muscles, the grooves– shadowed in a whisper of brown, highlighted celestially, and exposing a small auburn bush beneath her pit. A seen groan escapes her slit gob, brows hefty– she crumples them dear into her eye sockets, ruching the thin skin. Exertion tapered her body akin to clay, and it was undeniably hot, scrunching her face up like that. Ellie then juts her hips forward and casts her head rearward as she stretches, releasing all tension in a swing of her arms down. 

Seems like she's tending to the fore yards.

Dew gleams honey, sweat paints skin, and portrays your girls as a ruddy rose in dashing spring. Ruddy, yeah, that solar ball in the sky sure made her skin popping arid of paleness. Naturally, her freckles betone like pepper, bulging on her red face– which scrunches in her gripe of stress.

Her lips part, mouthing an obvious, ‘Fucking hell.’ and baring teeth after, slightly. Lashes interwoven, her eyes stayed squinted, only to widen and dart when a muffled shout rattles the walls.

Right, fuck, Dina needs me.

Just as the drizzly auburn–head jogs from a peeking view and presumably into the house, you reverse and capsize through stacks of cloth until you land your choice– a sundress. Hey, it's hot today, let your butt breathe for a change. You dangle it by the thin straps prior to pleating up the skirt and slinking it over your crown, yanking every seam in place. Ruffles hit a stonecast above your knee, a sensible length.

But one question stands unturned.

Bra, or no bra?

Hmm.

No bra.

A proper chest of cotton cradles your breasts come rain or shine, not like Dina would mind with brine, nor judge off the heart– just freeing the girls. No biggie. The woven material lollops to a fare–thee–well, cozy on the curve, ribbing as it falls in place. Now, you just need something on your feet. Striding forth, waxing a gale, bare steps soften on each oak board's scant gap, sylvan grain texture grazing your toes. Just a few feet ayond the couch is your shoe cubby, small box frames home to varied work boots and scuffed sneakers, and based on today, you choose boots, clasping the hardy backstays in a pinch. You crouch and gripe at the sore sting your knees gave, manning it through and sliding foot by foot plumb to the squishy sole of your boots, tying up the cordy laces.

Guh, these boots are near rugged.

Ignoring the plain–in–sight fray to your boots’ hemp laces, you grasp and wrench the icy knob ‘round till the door grinds a cry open. Stepping under the arch, you brisk thump by thump and cut where the hallway bends, advancing the dining table.

A dyad of ears harks your growing din of solid steps, calling, “There you are, did'ja sleep like a log?” mellifluous notes of Dina's cadence carries, veering your sight on the kitchen– where she be, perching an oaken honeycomb rack to forearm.

That I did.

“Yuup–” you pirouette, spanning the table's border and hiking that very ridge plane into your butt, sighing, “sun was there to greet me, obnoxiously.” leaning into the table, you grouse lightheardedly.

“Oh shit– sorry ‘bout that, swear I'll put up a–”

“Don't worry, it's the one thing that actually wakes me up these days,” you crack a quip, chuckling with an open mouth.

Dina caters a kind tug on her mauve lips prior to whisking her eyes returned, a glossy honey to be. Syrupy knuckles press and crinkle in the hilt of a honey fork, pruning waxy slices and welling gold bubbles, crafting a drippy stream that canals into a glass bowl. Through laden light it gains a gilded life, casting a tiny star on the moist blob– and there you witness, nectar of the gods.

Capricious minds might have swiped a dollop of that sweet, sweet delicacy by now.

Weighing the silence, you tempt thoughts racing around your skull. What chore am I assigned today? Where is the cacophony of babbles and gurgles that follow Dina like a haunting spirit? Where did Ellie go? Ellie, Ellie, Els.

God did she look breathtaking in that tight–

A rush of thuds divert your curious eyes to the creaking stairs, preluding the swell of said babbles and a husky voice, Ellie's voice. 

“Dina?” hailed she, echoing halfway down the steps, “I changed his diaper!”

Dina cocks her head in heed, crowing back, “Okay! Just– give ‘im to her!” tone knocking against the hollowed walls, then, she sheers attention to you, “mind feeding him?” 

You hum a keen, “Mhm.” void of second qualms and wait on that certain honey–head to appear, hearing the increments of footsteps draw lower and nearer.

The honeylike cowl, stria of fawn auburn drapes soft strands to laze with a purpose on her neck, fashioning that scruffy mullet eyes prize after. Honeykin defines the head that tags after gray, deadbeat converse hop the last few steps and plant still on the oaken floor. For a honey so sinful sought you, and buys a bite of time, to stare.

Her liven pasture eyes catch on you, just a moment, and skip away, reminded of what she intends, “Uh, here.” her forearms unfurl and slink to you, offering JJ up in thankful arms.

You rub in bare flesh to hers, scooping the gurgly baby in a shyer than thankful human cradle, foreheads feckly bumping into each other as you swap, a ghosting of heads. A whaff of her work–spent scent digs into your brain, and you had to admit, it was a tinge sort of lovely. She had the farmyard tang about her, blessed with sweat, a firming physique, a stare that caught you a corpus melting in her esse.

Fairer than the weeks before her touching of you, the bounty it procured was tame, fair is the present. Fairest days, faring a harvest more splendid than dreams carping yonder ebony skies and heavy heads. An unruffled weightlessness many souls find hopes fed in, you found aplenty of in the waking world. With Ellie, you drank laughs, fiddled about the haystacks, snuck apples in your fist– nicking dewey chunks down her gullet in shared kisses, or let her shamelessly tug some of your ass meat in horny hands. Oh, isn't infidelity just the niftiest drug.

Smitten as a kitten, you are.

Carpe diem.

“You’ sleep well?” asked Els in monotone, pitching a paw up to weave through her jumbled locks, splitting strands.

Heaving a breeze, you sigh, “Decent enough, you?” and counter the question, bobbing your stance on bending knees– pray that baby doesn't scream, as always. 

“Like a baby,” she asserts, lush of a brag, dropping her hand and poking at the chubby–cheeked fella, who just got a free mention, “not so much this one, yeahh? Did you scream my ear off all night?” cooing.

“Mhm, heard that.” you add.

“Betcha did.”

“Hmm.”

Her eyes peek up, and goddess, it's that look again. Oh yes, the very gaze spilt upon the oaken table that hale spring day, a twinning star. These eyes, ladies and gentle–non–mens’, fondled a plight of husky play sat on the edge of her mucky mind, and it showed vividly in those flourishing pupils that thin her pine–lined eyes. Tilted smirk dotting dimples in her big appley cheeks, cuspid teeth goring a dint in chapped lips crying with dire need of moisture. Sexy– minus the lips maybe.

She knows what effect that look has.

What exactly sits vanward of that hormone tipsy mind, is an excerpt best served in the formula of two tongues tied– for even Ellie herself may strive to compose hunger incarnate at this fledgling hour of daybreak. And yet she cannot. The mere thought of your pussy clots her brain cells. So, how do we fix that?

Play pretend!

“Hey babe,” that auburnette already had her head whipped south towards Dina before you could flit a blink, feet sparking her a brisk carry yon the shabby oak floor. Creak, creak, clonk, foot by foot she departs a sliver of bitterness in your chest. 

A demure bitter, a sense you can simply shake off. For now.

“There you are..” spoken so softly from Dina, who still had a rack of flaxen honeycomb in her hold, slanting to an angle, “what took ya so long?” voice curling.

“Wasn't that long,” she emphasized her vowels, “m'here now..” 

“Good..” 

She was far from there.

“Mhh,” hummed Ellie, pressing her lips into a thin stroke, puckering about to intone a curly, “ohhh, honey– can I have a lick?”

“Mh–mm, that's for the apples.”

“Aww.”

A meshing of lovers. Real love, virgin love, dying love, feigned love, it all wreathes together on the outside– for the sake of earthly vein, tender were those emotions long ago. Hasty do the doves encircle a budding entanglement, and bells chime where dust remains uncollected on wanton hearts. Uncanny, do the crows crawl in their grandeur of an affection died– sprawling sooty wings through tough gravel and mushy mud, rendering them unable to fly again. Unearth that shit, and you're seated for a whole fuckfest, indeed. 

So consume what you see with a grain of shit–face nothingness.

Ellie slinks a glide upon Dina, pushing her harsher on the counter's nook and slumping arms to swaddle her torso. She cradled her in the natural bow of her body, projection of her bony hips plated dual plumb dimples in her ass, grinding with a purpose. Denim chafes on denim, bringing a light noise of fabricy licks. The cottony hem of her soiled tank begins to bunch with each rolled hump, proving the friction to be– lustful. Her hands wander her body, not yours, pausing and choking the fat plush of her thighs, losing sunny–ruddy pigment to wanting pressure, then releases, and traces back up.

Pupils of yours aimed so pinpoint on each sweep of her hand, yet, you bore an idle set of gestures. Cupping a waxy rubber bottle in your grasp, brimmed with milk opaque of lily–white and feinting a crisp chill to your fingertips, you park the nozzle to the baby's lips. Giving a squeeze with care, you feed him– idly, idly turned from the scene afore, except for your eyes.

Strain sets a pull on them as you stare.

A bitsy wince of, “Ellie..” dries moistness on her lips, shuddering to an ajar gasp.

“Mhm, like that?” husked with a bass that ripples, so, so deep in her diaphragm, you swore it nearly rattled your ears from where you poise.

A gasp died into, “We can't–” 

“But we can..” a frugal answer, meant for one pair of ears only. Only, what a joke. An ill timed joke on Dina.

Had it truly been for one person only, Ellie would not be striking risk right in the butt. Nifty as she is, juggling those risks aimlessly, she stares at you. The crown of her head ruffles up messily on her scruff as it pivots, flushed nose pointed to you, pale lids of supple creases kin to a beach cove as they open, batting reeds of chestnut everlasting. They flap, waiting for you, in the delay of that week–past chance snuffed. 

Intimidating, austere demeanor flowering in those buttony pupils– and she eyefucks you with them, even tugging a wink your way. A fucking wink. Her ploy of fondling Dina, so obscenely, clearly dirty, read in gold typeface as ‘Wish this was you.’ loud and proud. Much more so when her digits curl and dig dents in her waist, and her teeth carve marks as she bites her coral lip down, showing you. 

She's showing you how she wants to play with you.

Being an unwelcome voyeur, you felt the tail–tug to glance away. And in that fleeting veer, a loud smack resounded and left you surprised on the tips of your boots.

“Uh!” a yelp ejects air from its jailed position in Dina's gullet, forwarding her body with a jounce.

A foul, “Hehe–” trebles a giggle from Ellie, shit–eating grin withal, “so sensitive.. again?” her hand rubbing circles to where she struck ass.

Fuck.

Fuck, because she has uttered those exact words to you before, wetly on the shell of your ear, yesterday. At dead noon eve, stark flat on your bedroom door, a makeout you'd rather not divulge. Though, did Dina hear that thumping racket?

You feel a throb, a throb that drops. It beats from your maddened heart to your aching hole, literally. A web of hot arousal dribbles over the ribbing of your walls, leaking into a sticky splotch on the plateau of your panties. Fern eyes of something unholier–than–the–moan–of–a–devil felt denser working than self–pleasure, it tickled just right.

But it doesn't belong to you, so don't pluck that apple. Ignore that tickle.

“Okay, baby–” Dina gruffs and shoots her shoulders up, nudging Els’ clingy head off, “seriously, I got shit to do.”

“Hmm, suit yourself.” Ellie gave up and wacked her hands up in defense, feigning offense. 

You slither that milk–glossy tap gently from purling lips, cooing, “There you go.” as you set the bottle down with a placid thud, spurring a lone finger up to bat slowly upon the baby's nubby nose, how maternalistic of you.

A gait of striking steps softly approaches you. With your head huddled and stance shielded the opposing direction of the two, you couldn't see who that person was. Although, you deemed it safe to assume it may be Ellie, coming to poke at you again.

“Hey, could you help Ellie sweep the barn?” a honeyed voice entrances your focus instead, Dina, of course, “sheep dragged in a whole buncha’ shit, shouldn't take long though.” she notes, casually.

A long droning intervenes “Uhhh, I never volunteered to–”

“You did when you chose to live on this farm with me,” her voice strains, flowing into a breezy chuckle whilst gesturing for you to hand her JJ, “Right, babe?”

“Pshh–” 

Bearing aloft, you slink that baby's bum right into her curviform arms, feeling the cottony onesie drag on your forearm as his weight lifts off, bending at the knees scantily.

“Fiiine, I'll muck the– smelly sheep shit for ya’,” her voice bores deeper in exaggeration, becoming a blurry blob moving behind Dina's poise as she slinks forth, “gunna’ need a mask, I think.” and quips, wrapping her lithe arms to a cinch on her waist.

Dina grunts, butting her arms loose before it gets tighter and coasting a few feet yonder, “Barn, please.” reiterated she, flatly.

Tapered as her jaw is, she clenches it further, taking that blow of a refusal to her touch peevingly, teeth to a grind. Jeez, she's quite handsy today.

“Hmmph,” a grunt deadlocks at the fore of her compressed lips, rolling at the neck and cocking aside a signal for you–”c'mon.” she mumbled, clicking her waggish tongue.”

A scoff jumps from you, “M'not a horse.” you squint and trot your feet along, heavy timber steps pittering towards the ajar backdoor, dash of light spilling through.

“What? Didn't say you were.” she headstarts and jerks the door chasmally open, banging against the oaken trim.

“Door!” shouted Dina, now muffled as you enter beneath true light of day.

“Sorry!”

You wince both muck–free feet into a macula of moist earth, feeling your weight sink and squeeze a taint of muddy blob as you hoick off and traipse forth. A kittenly, “I think the only horse here is you– smelling of sheep shit,” comeback lightens the air, giggling, “Peee–yuuu, somebody get me a mask.” and shooing an invisible stench from your nostrils.

“Puuh–lease, as if you don't smell like a hot pile of garbage after your chores,” thrummed out of her gob easily, just so she could smooth in, “Emphasis on the hot.”

“God, you amuse me.” you shake your head low and smile, bloating the inwards of your cheeks ‘till they hugged your nose, two blooming mushrooms.

Her body spirals in a swing of her leg, now walking completely backwards, “Wasn't trying to amuse, m'being serious. U're hot.” she brownnosed, even giving you the fucking eye–up–and–down. 

This baser, coy weirdo. Can't go nary a breath without summoning a smile unto you.

Your wandering eyes travel up a stream of fading cumulus clouds, sheer stranding like a veil pierced with astral rays– and you mull mind over answers across those clouds, for how could you reply, origin of wit?

Then, so cross the dumbest, possibly weakest retort, transferring from sky–gaze to mouth.

“Andddddd u're not.” you skip ahead of her with a feign of sass, causing her to whip back around.

“Not what you said last night.”

Okay that's true, but..

You egg her on, splayed palm melding to cold, rusted iron grip of a shovel, “I said a great many things, remind me?” as you tease.

“Gladly.” a hotness more snug than the sun cupped your wrist, pricking your grasp open free of the shovel–hilt and spinning you like a ballerina– knocking shin to shin so you plaster flat on the splintered wood door of that barn. Els hovered close, horridly close, breath fervent to your mid–face, “where should I start, babe?”

You freeze, blizzard of a kindled burn, a smolder trenching roots through your reddening cheeks. That throb, returns. You just couldn't gauge which throbbed more severely– the banging of a mad heart, resounding echoed thwacks against caved ribs, or the chokehold of your beaded clit, squeezing up into your cunt and getting you to chafe moist arousal from your labia, wringing webs across your entrance.

No, not again, not here.

“You should start..” a gulp burdens the words back in your gut, re–rounding with a deflect, “by mucking the stable.” silkenly fallen to a wholly nether topic.

Dumbfounded was the look to darken her visage, bristly brows dropping like sawed trees and cleft of her lips bowing to a frown, unamused, “Seriously?” 

“Mhm!” you swerve the shovel handle at her unprovoked, letting her catch it prior to crouching under her barred arms and strolling off towards the sheep stall.

And like a dog, she tailgates hot on your hind. Bark bark bark, yapping ditto to one too, “Why do I gotta shovel shit n’ not you? –Huh?” yet in the most unserious, sportive tone, ever. Dorky smirk lingering in her words, pounding a laser through the thickset back of your skull.

Man, if Ellie was a dog– she'd be a damn Siberian husky. Pining for unending attention and peskily playful, too playful, even. 

Each crunch of hay behind you, every little sigh she put forth in bone–dry air, the sum of her laughy scoffs that no way in a verdant pasture heaven wouldn't be expelled without a toothsome smirk. She was the blight of you, your anathema, pockmarking inside your brain imagery of how she looked when you averted your gaze, meanwhile she beheld the rear of your head, cocksure of her annoyance. Oh, and goddess how it never falters to soar her heart high of a heavenly altitude, skirmishing every cloud with her melodious drum of life when even simply laying scrutiny to the hair awry with mess, shrouding your nape in the natural fall of it, bouncing on each step. A love of life that you could give.

That is all her mind bends to, pestering you, so help her goddess, she will enact anything, to make this abominable sin a grounded relationship.

Look upon me, won't you?

You tuck a finger around the tiny hook lock, opening the large sheep stall, “Because–” you pause, cutting past the rails and drawing an arm over to grasp a rickety rake, elevating it over the half–wall, “someone's gotta uncover the shit first.”

Her knee pooches out mildly as she recasts her weight on a wall, twiddling her thumb over every scuffed mark of the shovel, examining its ridges beneath her print. Yet, her eyes stayed absorbed in you, taking the waft of every leg stride, arching of your spine as you stoop down, extension of your hands grasping the rake's shaft– stabbing the crooked tines into a labyrinth of heaping hay, the screaming of metal scraping on concrete, causing her ears to tremble and tighten, alongside a squint. The noise muffles, then awakens as she relaxes her facial muscles, slacking her jaw to speak, “Y'really good at that, y'know..” mumbled, even.

“Mmht–” you smack your tongue moist, dithering your head in puzzled wags, “–I am literally just raking the ground,” humbled you, thinking of her dumbly so, “weirdo.”

“Pshh, yeah, but I bet you'll have this whole stall swept in like a minute tops.” she claims through a fried rasp, vailing her pale lids low as she stares– stares of yearn.

Further squashed upon hilarity, you whack a tuft of hay clean through air, then stake the rake upright to a wooden beam and lean, staring back rich with spite, “And I bet an hour for you, what– just standing there?”

“I don't see any shit yet, m'waitin’ on youu..” her vowel drawls long, smug–fuck expression curling those rosy lips.

“Oh really?” your thumb unlocks from the lot of your clutching digits, breaching the rake with a springy sound as it bludgeons against the oaken column. Ranging your foot forward, you brace the skimp distance from you to her, planting softened steps.

Maraschino cherry of her chubbed cheeks, a puckish smirk reads more and more intently as you approach. Each thwack of sole leather to hardy ground is a pump of excitement for her– reckoning your current passage as a rite of igniting something. Sway of your hips, stopping of your tracks in front of her, she wonders– or hopes, of what you'll do next.

You gave that freckled face a prompt pore–over, recognizing that flare of her brows jerking up slightly when you park optics onto her slit–open ones, inhaling, “Then let me do it.” and splaying your palm up to the ceiling, expecting the shovel plumb in–hand, easily.

“Hmm, nah.”

You furrow a lone brow, “Why not?” 

“Cuz’ I got it.” spoken cockily, lips flubbed out and head swung like a whip, winding the crescent strands of burnished hair out of her eyesight.

So cavalier.

If Dina were here, the place’d be fuckin’ primely polished. Be for real.

“Sure,” you blunt your accent, nigh on sarcasm, “what's gotten into you?” pleating your fist to a ball, you slot it between the warm pocket of breast to bicep, crossing your arms.

You.

You– are what's gotten into her. Two horny adults unchaperoned, in the convenience of privacy, sub rosa, a smidgeon apart, lusting with their parts of lechery, staring down at sorely empty hands that could be full of each other's flesh, it doesn't fare well. Emptiness, a sphere of it, sleeping in palms where it is an unwelcome voyeur– snoring, vibrating. Dormant touch never falls short of pulsation, like a magnet, it reaches for her. 

Stroking the shovel rod as she does, with those knobby fingers of hers, twining the length, was patently suggestive. Soft rings resonate with each tug of her clewed hand, rubbing up and down, slow and thorough, what the fuck. 

And worst–best of all? Eyes. Her sooty, pebble blown pupils thinning the evergreen in her eyes, pierced yours. Forbidding ones. 

God, wary of reality or not– admit this, it was definitely hot. Hot, how her ashen lids embrace the snow and veins, a human cadre of gossamery skin. Hot, because they read debaucherous– and could carbonize a bible to cinders with a single glance, sacrilege to poetry, ergo; ‘Fuck me’ eyes. And lastly, hot, as they sat a throne upon a wicked smile, exposing her front teeth lightly, spit line attached top to bottom. In short, breathing you in, made her high off lust.

Asudden, the bow indenting her mouth is backwashed in a swallow, and her eyes disappear beyond the hood of her brow bone, captivating her soul upon a sigh. A sigh she breaks contact for, a sigh she must take, in lieu of composure– when all she perceived of you was a temptation.

A bastion of forced air swells up her cheeks, lukewarm on the gums, pouty of the lips, “Fffffffuck–” mouthed she full of that exhale, shaking her head to a low duck.

“Fuuck, what?” a mimic of her quiet curse befell your lips, curving tone and brow in confusion.

That's when her head perked, an inch, a slanted inch, bedeviled eyes divided by the drop of a short russet strand, mouth pursing to vowel out, “You.” hoarsely.

“Like ‘Fuck you bitch’ or in a ‘I'm gonna fuck you’ typa’ way?” you undulate your head cartoonishly, heightening the emphasis of both those options, cause both appeared likely.

Fluff of her brows crooking weirdly, she gawks with an inlay of temptations, bought, “That is the dumbest fuckin’–” she chuckles dryly, nose facing heavenward as she spins the shovel, going clockwise ‘round you, “–question, I've ever heard.”

Step by step, on beat, you slowly spun with her encirclement, noticing now that you're inclined to back up into the wall as she kitty–corners you, idle mitt pressing finger wads to textured wood, laying spread.The scratch of it smooches your shoulder blades as you smush plane on the wall, calves ghosting wales of wood coarse enough to leave blushy marks, and yet you rely on it to camouflage from her intimidating gaze.

A heartbeat hastens, brimming your throat with a blockage capable of consuming the words before ears could, tethering a timid gasp out instead.

Ellie rasped deep, “Cat got your tongue, hmm? Don't back down ‘n me now..” the heat of her face hovers close, cocking her head laterally to fit perfectly in your headspace, air blown from every syllable fanning your sutured mouth.

The weight her stare threw upon you was, probing, and direful. Every attempted scape–glance was a gut instinct, a reflex when shagged to a set of human bars. Flesh of bone, bone in flesh, arm to arm, what a bloody mess.

You curl your shoulders inwards, pressing folded elbows skin–tight to your ribs, “Dumbest question?” a gulp cuts the sentence, “you didn't even answer.”

“Want me to?”

“Yeah,” in defense, you tested her, “I do.”

“Ohhaha– okay..” Els’ cadence rose to amused laughter, shifting on her feet slightly, “We can fuck.” but she spoke it like you requested of it, although, did you?

Fuck.

A bulbous mass pushed your legs clean apart, trampiling the dress to a tight pull around your thighs. Confounded, you drop sights, sinking your chin in towards your neck and realizing– it was her knee.

Rough denim rustles clemently, a whisper of two fabrics meeting, between your quads. A friction so faint, so hush, begins to purr more acutely when a– ahh, pressure. A carnal pressure is given, given with urge, urging on your barely confined clit.

It stings as she drives her knee in, getting  you to clench your insides, to seize up.

A juxtaposition doomed to interblend skin.

You impel up on the wall, heel sloping to rest on the flat trim. It smashed your pussy lips, causing a chafe, ramming fabric inside the rim of your hole, a velvety draw of sleek depressing on the cotton tongue of your panties makes it stay there. Thereupon, her groin grinds a roll, nudging your pussy on top of her knee.

“Remember this, babe?” Ellie gives thrall to the dense steel in her vocals, ticking her head aside more to pass that breath firmly on your ear, “–‘member how good my knee felt? Mhm? ‘So fuckin’ good’, you said?”

A diabolical coo, she's trying to get under your skin figuratively– and literally further.

But it surfaced that memory like a buoy, erecting ayond the navy sea line with its eye–catching signal. In you, it materializes. Last night, came a blanket of umbra, yawning its penumbra in the horizon. Witching hour, obscene–eyed, gloaming your senses and eating away at deceit. Deceived? Yeah, that's how you felt, daylight by day bright, a misinterpreter.

All throughout the day, she would ghost right past you en route to Dina, much like earlier– and love up on her. Spread her taint of arousal between you, her, and you, then her again. Leading on last night, where she stowed her knee, just like now, affirming how mortally she may succumb to madness without your vulnerable phasing unto her, except, in a casual way, short of poetry. On top of that continuous grind she gave on your groin, she marked you with a claim so bold,

So freakish, so outré.

Dirty with her perverted thoughts.

You remember it, hard.

‘You love me just as much as your pussy does, face it.’ 

Hence, her knee felt as fucking liberating as it did that stone stark night. Your clit throbs with an ache, coiling your womb in moreish begs, more, moree.. please more. 

“I remember.” uttered softly, throat shutting on the words as you choke up in sensation.

A cordial chuckle blows summery hot on your ear, “Hehe, good,” and is soaked deeper in with a puckered kiss, popping quietly, “Good girl.”

That made you shiver, in a growing delight. A heat seeping between your folds, has you bearing down on her knee, slopping that raw precum all over the ruined seams of your underwear. In bodily reaction, your cunt shriveled in on itself, squelching a drop on barely–there textile– glossing a wet patch on the knoll of her knee.

Ellie espied that moistness saturating through her jeans and spreading warm on flesh when it seeps, slinking her leg a wimp inch out to gauge the spot, a fucking masterpiece, smack dab on her knee, “Fuck,” she spews, pinning teeth to lip, “for me?” she questions, even with an obvious ass answer staring her in the eyes.

Forget Dina, this felt right– too right.

“For you.” 

Her teeth bare vast in a smirk, doubling up her cheeks, “God, I love you.” because finally, fucking finally, she will have her cake and eat it too.

But first, eat the space before you.

And so she does, tucking the wad of her nose squashed in the crevice of your nostril and cheek, brushing of her mildly cracked lips greet yours to part, a balmy ask of entrance. Wagging against, the skin barely hugs with cushy compress, then she nips your bottom lip and wedges her own between, indulging the bump of your cupid's bow to cradle a whisker inside her suckled hold– her humid realm of fog. Buds connected, she felt like butter searing, softness melting, disintegration inside your clasp of a satiny hole, and she was pungent of farmland, muck sweat, everything you could have prest for. Ellie pushes passion in the form of little spit bubbles down your throat– ingesting your voice, your taste, your brain, essence in whole. Taking each other in your own two gullets, bolts of song, and long gaping moans– and even longer pants of make–out exhaustion.

“Mhhh,” she shoves another groan to rattle your teeth, hopping over cloud nine with each moan you reciprocated– like music in a fairytale, a ballad, or of a siren song, splendidly spellbinding, yes? “–fhhck yeshh–” She hums, forwarding a buck of her knee fiendishly.

You yelped, and she liked that, an impish grizzle pushing past the swollen smile and drags saliva across yours.

But.

Those hands once empty, cannot lie powerless to being so. Hers, fly from the wall behind your head and trace down your biceps, buckling unfurled over the bulge of your loose breasts and cup them tender, giving a squeeze that dimples flesh above the neckline of your dress. Not a complaint rose from you, you liked it, yearned hard of it– loved it.

She could tell by the mere movement of your back, arching into her grasp, getting her fingers to squish them even flatter, laughing the kiss to a pause, “Look at you–” she hinds back to look at you, taking your eager rush to follow her lips into regard, “fucking cutie.”

“Don't call me cutie.” you astern.

“Why noott–”

“No.”

A grin enlightens her anyways, “Got it,” and slides her lip back between yours, suckling the plump of your upper, “Mhmm..” hummed so gravelly, so good on your ears, yummy.

This girl will be the first suspect of your murder. Murder of love.. in spring.

Adjourning the freshly–sown kiss with a sloppy smack, you interrupt, “Y'know–” mhhp, a quick peck, “–think I love you too.”

“Think?” she knits her brows together dumb on your featherly melded foreheads, squishing the grooves that form in–between, “could already tell from last night,” her rasp makes it sound of a patent fact, chuckling like an asshole when you whine amid her tease, “hmm–hm, sorry babe.”

“God, you're such a dick,” you bind your head lower and ghost your barren lips over her chin, smiling amongst your dim shadow.

Index and thumb of her hand thaw ripely of your chin, exerting under the bone and beckoning you up with a kind pull, “Would a dick do this–” she twines you to the left, “Mmph,” pasting a kiss beneath one eye, “or this,” twines you to the right, pasting another peck, “or even this?” and lastly, twines you faceward.

Patent of her pattern, you expect a delicate pair of those blood swell, pouty lips to spare something planets away from porny lust– a promise, that none of this was bad. However, hopes are dashed like a racehorse when your chin rears free and a blur of her auburn head plunges out of sight, and under the hood. 

“Els’, where are you–”

Oh.

A gale of air spills up the gap of your thighs, sought upon by the whipping of your sundress’ hem up crinkled in her dual grasps, pushed against your hip bones. Knees grind in shallow dust, planting just next to your parked feet with a soft rub between the four, the perfect position, an orgasmic view. Ellie lets a gasp free upon eyeing the fat blotch soaked thoroughly to a glisten, fabric eased in your labia, showing her the shape of it. God, ‘think she saw you clench just now.

She balls the fabric to one hand, dropping her other and husking dry, “There she is– fuck, missed me?” a waggy finger rises to your clit, toying it in meager flicks– almost as to pet it.

A wince cries from you, “Ahh–” and you perk on your toes, inching away from her fingertip now padded in your sodden arousal.

Yet that fucking finger follows, pressing a hiemal print to flatten your bloated clit, clothed labia hugging the willowy knuckle. Cocky chuckle– likeness of her unabashed assholery and spilt through grit teeth, she muses in your clamping pussy lips, “Hehe, yeah? Need my fuckin’ fingers, huh?” and those damned coos, that tender tune, gosh– you can't get enough of it.

But you've had your fill of plaguing rumination.

Dina's away, nay a breath of her lingers here, not a peep of her can disrupt you, disrupt what you feel– how Els’ makes you feel. It's not wrong, if you're not the one suggesting it. It's not immoral, if it was never held in the hands of your intention. It's not your fault, if you let it transpire. Nothing to rue, not your sin, not your wrongdoing. 

So you pluck the apple.

An ease of your quads down pricks your clit with the poke of her finger, cushing the delicate flesh, “Mhm– yes, yess.” whined you, nigh on breathless.

“That's right,” thick is her voice– like a coddling of wood thicket, pushing past the devout lips that embed themselves in the chub pliancy of your belly, lain of a smooch to your womb, a quiet one, “thaat's fuckin’ right.” and jerking your clit measured with tease, idly rubbing.

The gentle marrow of that contact with your belly and your clit, sent you aquiver. Your abdomen, shaking lightly against her mouth with a breath in, lading your stomach with a rise, high–strung by that simple kiss. Too sweet, you thought, sweetly toxified of honey, unorthodox to how hoggish she usually strikes as– you expected her usual playfulness.

Softness can be addictive, and her version of soft, definitely was.

“Soo fuckin’ good t'me..” her lips detach only to press back in, multiple times, same exact spot. She wouldn't dare budge, not when it was deemed her duty to kiss you there by some unknown force, or her own accord. Ellie whispers, lugging those honey–drug lips over the pouch of your belly, “need that good fucking pussy n’ my mouth.”

A tilt, a modest slant of your hips projecting your crotch against her collarbone was your ask of entrance, and she gave her answer so fast.

“Hold this,” she cranes the clump of skirt to one of your paws, letting go when you meet fingers over fingers with her and hold your skirt to your ribs. She stops playing with your clit completely, tracing said finger up your groin and under your pantyline, pleating the band in on itself as she journeys it to your knees– letting it freefall from there.

Despite the milk–warm weather lambent to your forehead when settled under the sun, meant zilch to the cooler world inside the barn. Not wintry, but a tangible change sensed in your bare pussy. That's why you fastened your quads to a clench, nearly sucking in your cunt– oh, and the fact that two olive fern eyes are bluntly viewing it. Stage fright, much?

 A fried gasp of, “Ohh, shit–” chills it further with exhalation upon discovering the raw truth to your aroused pussy, engorged in size and pinkish in sex irritation. Ellie was drunken in that eyeshot of serumy precum wetting a film between your slit, drawing gluey webs over your hole, barely open for full study. She needs you open, she longs to see, gulping a horny thought audibly before speaking, “spread them pretty legs for me, hmm? C'mon, it's just me–” she assures, donning that calming placidity whilst palming the round of your knees apart to guide you, “–there we go, uh'huh, fuck..” departed of her voice, husky as she studied the open spread of your filthy hole, dripping for her like it fucking knew she was looking at it.

All you could engage was a tunneled stare down of your protruding crotch and her reddish–brown dusted crown, the slump your knees took clung on the flank of her biceps– plowing with an indent in her bare sun–baked skin. Els’ face so sanguine compared to the paler pigment of her fingers, which now push your thighs uncomfortably agape to the extent of bulging fat between her knuckles. Eyes bark, luring under lids so heavy and lashes like a vignette– they bark and say, ‘Keep your fucking legs open.’

Say no less.

Taken in awe, “She's so fucking pretty–” she curses with meaning, a means to make it known, licking up a river between your folds upon seeing that exhilarating view, cupping a glob of slick in her pink muscle.

“Shit..” 

Withdrawing her tongue, she swallows the creamy delight, “Prettiest pussy ever, ‘uh'huh, that's right.” Ellie being Ellie, she slaps it, eyeballing the spongy skin recoiling.

“Ah!” 

“Yeah..”

Your nude cunt was honeydew heaven in her eyes, gleaming wet like grapefruit, that's why her tongue was already slipping out on open air. Head inching to intimacy, the button of her nose dovetails seamlessly between the tippity top of your folds, and your clit, kissed with a hot spell. That bud, it fit perfectly in the wrapping of her lips, straightaway suctioned further into the gummy pucker of her mouth.

An ache zaps that little bouquet of nerves and coerces you to nearly swoon over it, yelp hitching, “Ha– aah,” and shudder teething, “Ellie..” with a hump of your glutes butting her head back, only stirring that hungry mouth of hers to pop off and swaddle it back in, tongue flicking.

Her nostrils sunk deeper in, airflow turning muffled in your crotch– yet her moans remained, abounding, vibrating on your sensitive pearl, “Mhhhh, mhmm.” rumbling deep under the soft squelching her moving jaw brought to fruition. 

Ellie, you fucking god, giving those plumate licks that are barely there, but scarily paired with deftness, getting you to squirm and squeal, “Yess– baby, yess..” That pink muscle snagging under the hood sometimes, smacking that pretty tiny clit of yours around with foams of flavor whisking onto her taste buds, humming in the notes of sex.

“Mhhh, fhhck.” her lips sever an inch, mumbling into your clit, “fuck you and your pretty little hole, god, fuck you.” she curses, cause how dare you let her impulses conquer, returning a trio of digits along your legs and swiftly finding your pussyhole, dilating the lips apart and shoving all three inside. How dare you, engross her ears in your moans echoing akin of a cathedral in her skull, ushering her to fuck you unholy.

“Ellie!” you wail, hoisting on your toes a second and clutching her in those slobbering walls– which only gushed a leak of arousal on her digits, and blocked her from further thrusting slightly, taken aback by the sudden stretch.

Her lips pop off again, slurping up the wet laces strung to her pout from your fattened labia, “Schlp– jesus, you are fucking tight,” the deepness rippled in her voice, groggy from the moist caking her gob, “let me in, don't push me out.. c'mon..” she coos gently, eyeballing the swallow her fingers took past your soaked lips, knuckles disappearing.

“O–ohh,” you tried to mouth ‘okay’, but the word just didn't fit the part.

“Just like that..” Ellie cools a fresh sigh, praising with a proud curl on her face, “Good fuckin’ pussy..” 

Letting go, your gut loosens and heightens the sensation of her skinny fingers bottoming soundly inside your vagina, feeling the callouses rub as they curl and tickle your angelsent spot, airing lips find purchase behind her fingers– and a pointy nose bumps your clit pervaded with purpose.

Spry is the moan, moaning over ‘spilled milk’, “Oh my g– uhnn..” woe is you, clawing phantomly at the spring that coils inside your womb, unknowingly providing Ellie's eager mouth with your precum.

The physical reality around you, suddenly only consisted of you, her, the barrier that stills your back, and a void inside you– being filled.

Literally.

And figuratively? Cause jeez, you must give sanctuary to a sin–eating, fleshoid beast inside your bone prison of a body, coming back here for seconds like that.

Might you be the dirty.. dirty dog instead?

Rivers of filth, she pumps those glossy droplets out of you, leathery scars caressing your ribbed canal with each pleasuring undo of your senses, she steals them like they are impartial to your bliss– bliss is all she needed you to feel for her. Fuck the worry, trash the heartache, yank the anxiety out, and soften into a pretty blob atop her fingers.

Her sultry blessing sitting upon those fingers, that's how she deems you– you do well to remember that. Her, willing frame of hips thrusting back down on the friction she gives, burrowing her nose a scent so naturally seducing, a pheromone, fucking elates her own throbbing pussy. Nothing sugary, nothing stomach–churning, just the taint of you. The threading of her jean's crotch was enough of a brute, bullying her egged clit by driving a split in it, flattening the fleshy hood everytime she shifted weight from knee to abdomen, poor her. 

“Huhnn– shit,” heaved grizzlier in her carp of stimulation decay, lack thereof rubbing one out herself and watching your delicate skin expand and crease. How could you blame her– her hand looked so right plugging your hole.

You suck your belly in, drawing tense on that thickset motion playing with your g–spot, whimpering, “Els’, please.. I can't..” a well floods in your waterline, searing with tears of crystalline iodine.

You really can't.

That scruffy mullet hides most of her big cranium, but, it was so fucking hot seeing the nominal stroke of her face, blushing strawberries betwixt your butter–spread legs. Her nose bobs north and south, dragging the bulb of cartilage over that nippy rosebud she happily exhales onto, pushing you over the earthly edge born of paltry touching. Ellie cognizes the slick–clear gospel that you were pending climax, manifesting as your needy bear downs into her slopping mouth practically lactating your pussy juices deep in the pit of her stomach, and the swelling of your wooed clit led on by her tongue, growing big and reddish on her nose to where it clasps the tip in a pillowy fashion, dabbing a glob of creamy sap. 

A mouthquake splutters wetness mixed with her spit across your inner–thighs abd vibrates your folds, betrothal of her voice waking back up, sourly muted, “She's– suh good.. mhphh– to me..” 

“Ellie..” you falter on breath, leavening in pitch.

“Phh–” a frothy sound garbled in your pussy lips, pushing her spit bubbles inside your gaping hole and traveling deeper with her fingering you, “makin’ this pushhy’ mine..” flubbed she, lapping up her cupid's bow of smeared sleek.

Your hole clamps her in as the pang begins to tick its patchy count of time, wearing the glass knot of your womb to a cracking, and troubling the base of her digits.

“Fuck, you wanna’ make this harder?” she sterned to the velvety rim of you locking on her triple shafts, porking webs of your pre–finish to teardrop down your walls as her palm splashes against your loch–sodden slit and mashes your g–spot repeatedly, plush of your labia bouncing in ripples. The noises were abundant, and pornographic, mushy as she fixes so much of your arousal on the pads of her fingers, hormones spiking at the lewd noises, “you hear that baby, ooh, fuck.” foxily ‘ooed’ that foxy–maned girl, beguiled in how your pussy spurts for her.

It wept in slaps, eliciting a palping squelch to bang, bang– bang– pound, brandishing a chilly tempest through and through your bloating labia, quivering as it readies to release. The stuffing was intimate– like a punch inside your spirit, coaxing the fragile glass to a rend, ergo, pushing out every lash of pure lucid squirt.

On the beat of your hole gushing, yelps batting you shut in the plain intensity such an orgasm brought forth, tore Ellie from simply just watching– to drinking every drop. Her voice, dusky in the backdrop of your wails sounded, “Yes– yess, babe fuckk that's it.. mhm, all over my fuckin–” her words wane as her lips clock in, a sudden rush of void fleets with her fingers sheathing out, drawing a long lubricous bunch of webbing only to be nourished in the warmth of her mouth– pursing into your labia and shaking about as you squirt.

Ellie has no shame in getting soiled of you, even the devil himself blushed at the linkness of her mid–face pancaking your lissom skin apart, spewing you wide.

“Ah! Nuh– nonono, t'much, too– uhhnn..” your throat fails you, clumping wads of words that wanted to breach, but her mouth was too good, and it's fucking obvious that she wouldn't stop, not when she can have you like this, bucking onto her flat tongue. Sinfully good, disgusting in the rawest fashion, making your crotch burn with ecstasy more than it already did.

Water upon the push of her mouth, blowing in and slopping noisily at the meat of your pussy lost it's carry to your ears. A biome of shadow, veils your vision and a pressure rains less than tender between your eyes, blurring everything before you, ebbing the grasp of your skirt to an impossible job, hands ashake. All you could gauge above the hood was fiery sweat, hot, steaming– taunting sweat, licking at your forehead.

Her nose headbutts into your vagina, slinking languidly as her head finally smacks off your numb folds, laughing, “Holy fuck– y'taste so good,” the air windy to your soaked entrance, convulsing in front of her barren eye, “shoulda’ let me lick you sooner.”

Huff, and puff, until the binds of your chest blow down, sprouting with an entire current of air, panting more than dramatic as you dwindle down like a bird's plume, “Too.. huh– haah, bad.”

A new kiss is savored to your clit, absorbing the snift her snort gave, “Haha– yeah yeah, n'you liked it, don't lie.”

No lie was home to call. You’ve a truthful virtuality.

You truly did like it, love it, cave obsession over that moment– for now it passes, and not a peck of guilt ran prickly on your arm hairs, saving your gullet free of a stony gulp. No crows died in the revelation of your scandal, only doves, encirclement in a trance chirping nuptials to be had.

I really do love you, Ellie.

Is that so bad?

“I can’t catch my– oof,” you grab sudden air with your fructifying lungs, “–can’t catch my fuckin’ breath.” and the struggle was visible, muscles like puppet strings to your fingers losing proper grasp and billowing the skirt plop on her head.

The rotund shape of it wiggles from the draping hem, continuing to laugh when her wet–handed fingertips poked thin on your ankle, bulging on both sides as she drew your panties back up all the way, slithering under your skirt’s canopy and stretching the band to a snap on your hips, skin tiding, jerking you off warning, which for sure winded the breath back in ya.

“Sheesh, no care for my panties at all?” remarked you of fun wit, gliding your thumb apart to rub the bend of your hip crest.

“You literally ruined them before–”

“And whose fault is that?” you winched from the barn wall and met pupil–to–pupil with her rising figure, revealing how slick–fucked her face really is, glossing with evidence of your cunt.

“Mine..” proudly, guilt was basal to her tone, nonexistent, inching closer to you with a slight wobble swaying on her heels.

You hark the crunch of gravel below, but keep your gaze airborne, Ellie–borne, “Exactly.”

“Cause m'hot?”

“No,” you rock your head, evil smirk deepening the corners of your lips to your gums, “that's a dumb question.”

Her arms begin to slink at fore, elbows chafing her flank, “Wow, stole my line.”

“Still dumb.” you pinch the neckline of her tank, straining it up to wipe her mouth clean.

“Coulda’ just used my hand.” she still does, the dork, purging any excess to the hill of her bent wrist.

You scrunch your nose fakely, “Uck,” and express, mumbling, “Bring a rag next time.” 

Her hands then drop, creeping towards your sides, “Didn't think we were gonna–”

“Liar.”

Those strapping hands bend with wrinkles in her knuckles as they plant pleasantly on your hips, fingernails curling with lustier keys, tugging you plane on her body, “You're so fucking cute,” is all she could say, because there was no stem of denial baying for a different answer,

Doing this was always lingering a tail on her thoughts.

“And such a bitch, fuuck– want you so bad,” complained she, pushing the last of her grizzled groans past her blood–swell lips, which now dive in the sweaty nook of your swan neck– bespattering the sensitivity, “–need y’so bad..”

You comb a paw of fingers through her honey–cresten mane, dividing strands apart and giving a fond press to her scalp, whispering upon her pale–rosen ear, “Then have me–”

“I can’t,” her crumbled lips fail to cling, dragging dry beneath your ear, “I fucking can’t.” wearily said, wearing her voice to nothing.

Infidelity.

Wasn't nice at all, on both sidewalks.

A purer bid of tears wet her cheek, drenching into the flesh of your neck as she pushes into you, holding you dear, vast afar from intentions to let go.

“I know..” was a rare comfort, and wasn't one to you right now– for plucking that apple, ripped you of innocence. A blind eye you turn when sensuality is awake. Enrapture chokes your senses, sweeps you in the moment, clouds your memory of those ugly, nasty etceteras– those facets that deplore it. Even now, when Ellie collapses weight onto her ankles, pressing you into that same wall you saw heaven on, touching heartbeats incandescent for each other's total consumption, weeping wet on your bare shoulder– it hurts, aches you to say, “But I don't want to know.”

Clutch of your neckline, she bruises her knuckles tight in it, spiteful almost– gagging on tears that roll the wrong road, “Guh– fucking hell, don't say that..” 

“Ellie, it's–”

“Don't.”

“Not your fault.” you flap your fingers up, palm still glued, patting her head.

She doesn't belong to you.

Yet you act like she does.

Pity.

A sniffle is the intake of air you feel before her nose skims off, craning her neck to an angle where she can gaze adjacent to your cheek, for beholding may prove a demise. But she can't forgo this one ask, this dream perched upon her brain, “Babe..” she purrs, dead of cadence.

“Hmm?” a whirl invites your nose to her cheekbone, offering you the picture of her side–profile. Oh, those lashes so dashing, they curl, darken her snow of eye, and trap tears.

Why, it's as if a rainbow overcasts those auburn reeds.

Ellie's capsized tune finds its stream back to that scratchy rasp, silkenly intoning on your earlobe, “Can you sleep with me tonight?” her buds ghost the rim, popping on the syllables.

Is that even possible? 

You debate with the figments in your mind, casting doubt over your facial muscles, knitting, “Ellie, you know–”

“I don't.”

“Els.” 

Long forked strokes of her fingers run up your jaw, scrolling you to then focus on her face cocooning your entire sight, and a husk enlaces you, “Forget about Dina,” a glimmer summons her lips to curl once again, “just tonight, fucking please?”

Fucking please.

A silence rots in the cordial space sparsely separating you, wrenching her brows with a ravine indenting between them– the serious look you love. And her hold of hands appear to deepen in your cheeks, claiming your skin as one, melting into her prints, squeezing a reply from you.

“Please?”

Odds may dote on you, think about this.

“Okay.”

(couldn't tag everyone who wanted to be)

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[wlntrsldler]

Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

#frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

[darkstar225]

Sick Spider-Girl ft Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff

The Avengers Tower was bathed in a soft, dim light as the sun dipped below the New York skyline. In one of the rooms, Y/N Parker lay in bed, a silhouette against the pale glow. The room was quiet, except for the occasional muted sounds of the city below.

Y/N, known as Spider-Girl, was usually full of energy and vitality. However, tonight was different. The fever that had gripped her was relentless, leaving her feeling weak and achy. She curled under the blankets, shivering despite the warmth in the room. Her thoughts were foggy, and every move she made seemed to take a monumental effort.

Down the hall, in the living room, the air was thick with tension. Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff, two powerful and formidable women, were locked in a silent battle of wills. It was a fight that neither seemed willing to concede, even for the sake of the person lying sick in the other room.

Y/N had sensed the tension earlier, and it hurt more than any fever. The strained glances, the clipped words, it was all too familiar. The three of them were a makeshift family, brought together by circumstance and choice. Y/N, Wanda, and Natasha had shared laughter, tears, and battles, but tonight, the air was heavy with unspoken words.

In the quiet of her room, Y/N tossed and turned. She wasn't just sick physically, the emotional toll was equally overwhelming. She wished she could intervene, and smooth things over between Wanda and Natasha, but her body refused to cooperate.

The distant murmur of their voices reached her ears, the rise and fall of argument that she couldn't quite make out. Y/N groaned, a pitiful sound muffled by the pillow. She wanted them to stop, to come in and check on her, but pride held her back.

As the verbal skirmish escalated in the living room, Y/N's stubbornness kicked in. She couldn't stand being a burden, especially in their current state of discord. Ignoring the protesting ache in her body, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

The floor felt unsteady beneath her feet as she stood. The younger girl clutched the edge of the dresser, trying to steady herself. Her vision blurred, and she wobbled, but she pressed on. She couldn't let them see her weakness, not now.

The argument in the living room had reached a crescendo when Y/N, determined but frail, stumbled out of her room. She moved silently down the corridor, hoping they wouldn't notice her. Yet, every step felt like an eternity, and the distance between her and the living room seemed insurmountable.

Just as Y/N reached the threshold of the living room, the door swung open, revealing the formidable figures of Wanda and Natasha. Their eyes widened in surprise as they took in Y/N's pale, feverish form.

Natasha - Y/N!  What are you doing out of bed?

Natasha's voice was a mix of concern and irritation.

Y/N - I'm fine. Just needed some air.

Y/N replied, her voice shaky but defiant. 

Wanda's eyes, however, were sharp. She stepped forward, reaching out to steady Y/N, but the teenage girl brushed her off. 

Y/N - I can take care of myself.

The tension in the room thickened. Y/N's stubbornness clashed with Wanda and Natasha's concern. The air crackled with unresolved emotions. Unbeknownst to all, the atmosphere held a combustible mixture that would soon explode.

Ignoring their worried glances, Y/N shuffled toward the living room door. The distant sound of the city seemed to call her. She needed space, a moment away from the suffocating presence of the people she cared about most.

As Y/N stepped into the living room, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her. The world tilted, and for a moment, she felt weightless. Panic set in, but before she could react, everything went dark.

In the living room, Wanda and Natasha froze. The silence after Y/N's thud on the floor was deafening. Fear gripped them as they rushed to her side. Wanda's hands glowed with scarlet energy, ready to assess the situation.

Natasha - Y/N! 

Natasha's voice trembled as she tried to wake the fallen hero. Wanda's magic gently probed for signs of life.

A groan escaped Y/N's lips as consciousness flickered back. Wanda and Natasha sighed in relief, their earlier conflict momentarily forgotten. Y/N's eyes fluttered open, confusion and vulnerability shining in them.

Y/N - What happened? 

She mumbled, disoriented.

Wanda - You fainted. 

Wanda answered, her voice a mix of worry and relief.

Natasha brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's forehead. 

Natasha - You scared us, honey.

A sheepish smile played on Y/N's lips. 

Y/N - Guess I'm not as invincible as I thought.

Wanda and Natasha shared a glance, the unspoken tension still lingering. But at that moment, the priority was clear: taking care of Y/N. Wanda conjured a damp cloth, gently placing it on Y/N's forehead.

Natasha - You need to rest. 

Natasha said, her sternness softened by concern.

Y/N nodded with a rare vulnerability in her eyes. 

Y/N - Yeah, I guess I do.

As Wanda and Natasha helped Y/N back to bed, a silent understanding passed between them. The fight, the unspoken words, it could wait. Right now, they had a sick family member to take care of, and that took priority over everything else.

In the quiet of the room, as Y/N drifted into a restless sleep, the weight of their makeshift family hung in the air. There would be time for conversations and resolutions, but for now, they would stand together, united by the unbreakable bond forged through battles, laughter, and, most importantly, shared concern for one another.

#avenger!reader #avengers x teen!reader #platonic avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x reader platonic #wanda maximoff x teen reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x sister!reader #wanda x natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x platonic!reader #natasha romanoff x sister!reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x female reader #wandanat #wandanat x fem!reader

[heartcereql]

tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader pt.2 || read pt.1 here

the sun was supposed to be setting at this time of the day. but, as you outstared at the skyline, you saw nothing but a silvery sky only getting darker.

usually, after a long day at school, exhausted by your students' behaviour, you went to an abandoned dock on the canal to watch the day fade into the night, hoping to relieve the tension of the day and to diminish the headache in your temple.

but it didn't seem like you were very lucky today, as the landscape was an ash-colored blur, clouds heavy. you turned your head to both sides, chasing sunlight, stars, anything. and that's when you saw a figure approaching.

dark coat, cigarette's smoke surrounding the shilouette, flat cap, confident stride. he was unmistakeable.

"mr shelby" you greeted. he shot you a glare and you remembered. "right- tommy."

he acknowledged you with a nod of his head, a cigarette dangling from his lips, icy blue eyes staring ahead at the horizon as he arrived by your side. you directed your eyes at the sun setting, too.

"i have seen the results of you staying true to your word and giving my suggestion a try", you hummed. "thank you"

you turned your body to face him, watching him exhale a cloud of smoke.

"turns out you were right, eh" he shrugged, taking a drag of smoke and exhaling it.

you gave him a small grin.

"but you still have to fulfill your part of the deal"

you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words, as you remembered what you had promised him. you had agreed to go for a drink with him.

"well, i am waiting for a proper invitation" you remarked, your tone playful.

"as the lady wishes. miss y/n, will you join me in this-" he paused, looking at the sky for a second. it was painted with dark clouds, auguring storm. "- in this bleak and unsurprisingly grey afternoon for a drink at the garrison?"

you smiled at his words, having to bite your lip, preventing yourself to smile any wider.

"it'll be my pleasure" you replied, watching him drop the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. "care to lead the way, mr shelby?"

he was about to correct you when he noticed the mocking tone in your voice and the grin on your lips. he started walking, -

"what will it be?" tommy inquired.

the two of you had taken a seat besides the bar almost immediatly. the people had appeared to go silent for the slightest second, observing you, but then had quickly returned to their affairs.

your eyes explored the pub, resting delightfully on the golden details, scanning every detail. quite nice for the reputation that preceded it.

"whatever you're having" you answered, finally directing your gaze to him.

he raised his brows, not quite impressed but amused.

"it's strong"

"oh i'll be able to handle it"

he just gave you a smug smirk before ordering the barmaid another drink for you.

"so what is it?" you wondered as you stared curiously at the amberine drink.

"whisky. scotch." he sipped his drink as if it was water.

you copied his action, putting on your best efforts to suppress a face as you swallowed the stinging alcohol.

very soon, you were caught in the joyous mood of the garrison, establishing light conversation with tommy, mostly exchanging courtesy questions, drinking and sharing some laughs.

"i understand you own this pub" you brought up, voice louder than usual so tommy was able to hear you above all the noisy chattering and giddiness from the garrison.

"my brother. arthur."

"well it's a beautiful place. he must be proud." you complimented, downing the rest of your drink, trying not to grimace as it burnt down your throat. it sure was strong.

"aye, that he is" tommy took a swig of his drink as well. "how's it going with the kids?"

you frowned in confusion for an instant before realising he meant your students.

"they're alright. they get introuble, make fuss about everything, but then again, they're children. they're actually sweet when they want to."

"and how's finn doing?" his eyes locked on yours, unable to escape the others'.

"he's a bright kid, he really is. but he loses focus more often than not. he gets carried away. and then it's even more difficult to help him back on track. but i think he can do it." you informed, sending a sympathetic smile his way.

he only hummed, his reaction to your comment unreadable.

you decided not to ask how his own business was, knowing better than to pry on affairs that didn't concern you. instead you asked something else, something that would make him warm inside.

"finn mentioned you have horses. you race 'em, right? how're they?"

tommy's gaze immediately softened. though only the corners of his lips seemed to curl into a smile, he was beaming inside. you actually asked about his horses. not many people did. it was something he appreciated.

"alright, yeah. we got a new addition a couple of weeks back." he answered as he grabbed the bottle and refilled the glasses for the third time. "she's being trained now. great promise, that one. she's got a resistance quite difficult to find, an endurance rather auspicious. lot of potential."

he handed you the drink. you thanked him, head a bit fuzzy. but there was something about the way he spoke about horses. passion. you would've never guessed, not before getting to know the man, he could speak so fondly, so committed. you sipped the whisky, listening to tommy attentively.

the pub was cleared out by the time you two decided to leave. your head was spinning, groggy from the alcohol. you could barely contain your smile anymore.

but as you stepped outside, birmingham's weather hit you like a splash of cold water. literally.

“it’s raining!” you laughed. “fucking storming”

“here”

tommy unfolded a black umbrella, holding it your way. you scooted closer, under the protection of the umbrella. for a moment, neither tommy nor you moved, both standing under the ubrella. droplets of water splashed lightly as they fiercely hit the ground and already formed puddles.

"care to lead the way, miss y/l/n?" he repeated your words from earlier.

"where to?"

"your residence, of course", he replied. seeing you were still as confused, he clarified "you're not going home alone, in the rain and certainly not tipsy as you are"

you were taken aback from his stern but concerned demeanour. and how come he was not affected in the slightest from the drinking? were you really such a lightweight?

"okay then" you smiled up at him as you started walking your way through the dark streets of small heath, praying the man wouldn't notice the way your skin heat up when your arms brushed.

after what seemed like an eternity, you reached the disheveled door, once white, that led to your house. stepping into the porch, you now stood in front of him.

"thank you, thomas. for the walk, for the drink, for the talk, for talking to finn. and" you smiled, mostly to yourself, before continuing, "i had a really good time."

he silently nodded, also smirking.

"stay safe, y/n"

"you too"

you watched as he turned and walked off into the night, under his umbrella, with the stride you were getting so used to.

"wednesday evening" he called out as he walked away.

"what?" you exclaimed in disbelief. was he asking to meet again? not that you were complaining, or that it wasn't thrilling and making your stomach churn with eagerness; but you knew it was risky.

"be there"

he disappeared around a corner, and you shut the door quietly, resting against it, smiling like a schoolgirl.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #heartcereql

[cheesus-doodles]

Wish

Reincarnation AU! Yandere Gojo

Masterlist | Reincarnation AU Masterlist

found myself in kind of a slump just trying to write anything, please have this in the meantime - will also be trying to answer some asks soon while i work on the longer pieces

‎‎‎

tw: violence against reader, mentions of torture, blood, dead dove do not eat

I'll grant any wish you have. That deceptively loving coo was something you had heard countless times before, combined with a gentle comb of his hand through your locks.

Sure, Gojo, would come your predicable reply, complete with a roll of your eyes, before you go back to whatever it was you did for work.

Good looks, money, power - Gojo Satoru always had had the world at his fingertips. And it would have all been yours, everything mortal possession he owned. He hadn't even asked for much in return, just your utter and completely loyalty and obedience to him. In exchange for the sun and moon, any wish that you had granted at the drop of a hat, that much seemed like a rather paltry price to pay, Gojo would think.

Yet here he was, the sorcerer mused, as he drove another nail straight into your shin almost absentmindedly, the spurt of blood that came rocketing out a tantalising shade of crimson. Your shaky gaze shot up to meet his instantly, pupils completely constricted as tears were forced from the corners of painful red eyes; your cries and whimpers had long died away despite your current obvious suffering, raw throat having lost its ability to produce any sound louder than a grunt.

Leaning over to peer down at you with those infinite crystal eyes, Gojo didn't seem the slightest bit affected by your twisted expression. "See anything yet?" The question was followed by a giggle, the look on your face already telling the man everything he needed to know. Despite your understandable fear of him, you still showed no sign of recognition of the presence of curses all around you, and that was unacceptable.

He did need to make absolute sure that you had complete belief in souls that you could reincarnate back as a curse after all, and there was no way better way than to let you see one for yourself. Some real-life ghouls would definitely make quick work of turning a disbeliever into a believer.

‎‎‎

The night outside was quiet, the ominous heavy clouds that threatened to spill at any given moment a perfect reflection of your current grim predicament. Picking up another nail, Gojo made sure to show it to you before he selected a new spot for his gruesome art, this time driving it into the top of your arm with a whistle.

He didn't want to do this, the white-haired man assured himself, that much he would swear to anyone that would care long enough to listen. Out of all the souls that roamed this mortal plane, you were the last one that he wanted to hurt, let alone kill. Not his beloved darling, his soulmate. But you left him no choice. He simply couldn't let you go, not with the way you lived in his head rent free, haunting his every thought.

Maybe, perhaps if you had been a sorcerer in this life, things would have turned out differently. You would have looked up to him as the world's most powerful sorcerer, would have been taken in by his abilities and the weighty clan name attached.

But that was fine.

"Don't worry," the man patted your mangy hair, gently rubbing two matted locks of hair apart between his fingers. "Everything'll be fine."

It'll hurt for now, that much was certain, but your pain and suffering wouldn't be for naught. Being on death's door was one way for normals to see curses, and he would make sure that your agony would be over quickly.

Taking a glance up at the starry sky that blanketed the empty skyline, Gojo breathed, the fresh air a welcome change from the iron scent of stale blood that clad his clothes. You only ever made a single teasing wish of being immortal to him before, over a cup of coffee at a cafe, before you laughed it off - and you had never made another wish after that. But Gojo was benevolent.

Once your soul was reincarnated as a curse, he was sure he could find some old tool in the depths of his clan's treasuries to force you back into your old body and grant your wish. Plus, it would be so much easier to bind you to him when you weren't quite human, and you could spend the eternity of your next life with him.

Win-win.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #yandere gojo #satoru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #yandere gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #reincarnation jjk #reincarnation au

[piratefishmama]

I Wish | Part 2

Two sharp claps woke Eddie that following morning.

Followed by the whirring sound of some kind of motor, and then gradually, sunlight.

Sunlight travelled up his face until it hit his eyes directly, lighting up all the little veins behind his eyelids that nobody ever really wanted to see but no matter which way he shoved his head into the pillow, and he did try left and right…

He couldn’t dodge the sunlight.

“Wakey Wakey rockstar!” He was awake. Wide awake, sat up very straight very quickly and then everything felt very wrong when his world spun and— “awh shit Eddie, not again. Hold it! Don’t you dare, not until I—” chunks hit the floor about two seconds before a bucket would have been in place to catch it all. The shockingly red bucket held frozen in place where it’d failed to reach him. “Get there.”

Whoever that was sounded so disappointed.

Eddie had no idea why, but he felt like death. The sunlight hurt his eyes, and his head ached like he’d been hit by a brick wall, not him walking into one, no, one falling on him.

“Ngghhh” he groaned, before spitting what remained in his mouth out into the bucket, for what it was worth.

“What did you do last night, Eddie?” Eddie lifted his head up slowly, trying not to agitate his throbbing headache any more than it already was. With squinted eyes, he struggled to make out the person in front of him, but even when his focus returned, he couldn’t place exactly who the guy was, nor… where he was.

The room he was in was… large.

A huge open space with beige walls sparsely decorated by what looked like gaudy hotel art, he didn’t recognise the bedsheets either, softer than his usual ones, and when he finally found his eyes able to focus against the harsh direct light of the windows, with his hand shielding them a little, the large floor to ceiling windows of his room looked out across a city skyline.

“Who… who’re you?” That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Mystery guy didn’t look too impressed.

“Are you kidding me? Who—who am I? That’s how bad it is? You’re so fucked up you’ve forgotten me this time? I swear to god every fucking time Eddie. Every single goddamn time it’s like this and you just—I keep falling for it!!” Every pitchy hike of that voice had Eddie wincing back “What excuse will it be this time Eddie? It was just ‘one last time?’ Or what about your greatest hit ‘everyone else was doing it’, or maybe you’ll just wave it away like it doesn’t even matter? What did you even take?!” Eddie just wanted to hide, he wanted to hide under the mystery covers, away from this loud person who seemed to know him but…

Eddie was still drawing a blank.

The last thing he remembered, the last thing he clearly remembered, was being in the trailer after coming home from the faire, he remembered… he remembered—

“Where’s… where’s Stephan?” He remembered the Genie.

“Stephan? Who the fuck is Stephan? Are you—motherfucker are you cheating on me?! Who the FUCK is Stepha—” the bedroom door opened, cutting off the mystery mans tirade before Eddie could think too deeply about the idea of cheating on someone he didn’t even know, and like straight out of some kind of sit com, in walked the man himself.

All that was missing was an audience cheer track.

“I’m Stephan, Louie. Please get out.” ‘Louie’ straightened up, face seemingly set into a permanent scowl, he’d have probably been attractive if Eddie’s first encounter with him wasn’t that.

“Steve? Where the hell have you been?! You let him get like thi—”

“Get out Louie, or I remove you.” Arms crossed over broad chest, frame tall, broad, his attire less like it was in the trailer, now he wore a simple white button down and a pair of black slacks. Imposing despite its simplicity. “And make no mistake I will remove you.” He added, tone just as firm as his stance, Louie faltered, resolve quickly crumbling under that impressive presence.

“Fine, but I’m done with this. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t support him like this, so… please have my things sent to my apartment in Chicago. I’m finished.” And out he went, without even so much as a backwards glance to the deeply confused man still in bed, door slammed behind him leaving him alone with ‘Steve’.

“…Stephan?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“What the fuck is going on?” The outfit melted away, replaced with a glittering twinkle of a stereotypical magical effect, by the peasant garb he’d worn in the trailer. It was him.

He was real.

Stephan, or… Steve. Steve was easier, he was going to use Steve. Steve offered him his best attempt at an apologetic smile, before approaching to sit on the edge of the bed. “World fame, big shot. You’re lucky I didn’t dump you mid-way through one of your gigs, or worse, last night. Sorry but this was the uh… lesser of many evils. You’re currently in LA staying at a hotel midway through a press tour to advertise your new album, and that… was Louie. Your boyfriend of… three months now? Underwear model, definitely too young for you, I never approved but hey, who listens to the Genie? Nobody, because you’re all too ‘metal’ to listen to the Genie.”

That was… so much information at once. The room still felt like it was spinning, Louie had left the bucket on the floor next to the throw up. Eddie kind of wanted to throw up again. He couldn’t even process the ‘boyfriend’ thing.

“Can… can I wish to feel better?” He was almost proud of himself for coming up with that one.

“Sure you can.”

“I wish I felt better.” A snap of Steve’s fingers, and all those aches, all those pains, the headache the nausea the spinning, it all just. Vanished. Kind of disorientating but, for less than a second, and he was fine. Clear as a whistle, never felt better than he did in that moment. “Holy shit…” Steve smiled. He was prettier than Louie when he smiled.

“You’re welcome. Listen Eddie… I’ve basically disguised myself as your bodyguard in this reality, I exist as a normal person in your life, your band know me, your friends know me, I will be there in all realities we walk through together in some way shape or form. But this one… this one is tricky.”

“Can I wish for the throw up to be gone cause it’s starting to smell.”

“Go ahead.”

“I wish the throw up was gone.” Another snap, both the vomit, and the bucket were gone “oooh bucket too, you overachiever” Steve snorted a little laugh, shaking his head, making his softly coifed bangs sway lightly. “Where were you when I needed to clean my room last month?”

“Please be serious, Eddie, only for a moment.” Eddie settled in the bed, hands in his lap, totally fixed on Steve. Then he noticed he had new tattoos on his hands and suddenly that was way more interesting. As were the tattoos up his arms, a whole sleeve, no. Both sleeves! He looked down at his chest, MORE tattoos, and— Steve grabbed the covers before he could lift them to check his lower half. “Eddie.” Oop. The tone was firm, not quite as intimidating as the one Steve had used on Louie, but… Eddie stilled.

“I’m listening big guy.”

“You wished for world fame, that your band were to become world famous. That does not happen in a blink of an eye, Eddie. Not even by magic. That happens with years of experience, of effort, it happens with dive bars, basement, and garage gigs, it happens with multiple awful record deals that limit and exploit you until you find something that works, it takes nearly breaking apart, it takes, and it takes, and it takes, but what it takes the most of… is time. Eddie. It takes time.” And wasn’t that sobering.

He looked at his hands again. Saw the weathered lines amidst the tattoos for the first time.

Steve didn’t stop him this time from looking beneath the covers, there were more tattoos, way more than he remembered having, but there were lines where lines shouldn’t be, scars where scars shouldn’t be, there were wrinkles in places he was too young to have wrinkles in. Weathered.

He looked weathered.

Steve could only be sympathetic about it, could only appear softened, like he knew this would be tough, but he couldn’t really do anything about it.

“…How much time, Steve?” His fingers gripped the covers tight, he could feel his heart in his throat, thumping away faster as anxiety skyrocketed. He was older. His wish was world fame he didn’t think about anything other than that. It wasn’t even supposed to work Steve was supposed to just be some crazy homeless person who walked in from the cold.

He wasn’t supposed to be real.

“About thirty years?” Eddie pinched himself again on autopilot. It hurt. Silently, he threw his covers off of himself, and stood, the room didn’t spin like it had been earlier and nothing hurt like before, Steve’s magic working like a charm. Still silent, he crossed the room to the bathroom, turned on the light, and found himself looking at… a stranger.

No. It was still him. But he was struck with the thought of why someone like Louie, youthful and handsome as he’d been even in his anger, would want something like him? Wrinkled skin, bags under his eyes, his body slimmer than it ever ought to be and his hair… still long and badly maintained, but now peppered with streaks of grey. “What…” his voice croaked, his hand lifting to rub at the loose skin of his cheeks. Gaunt. Weathered. “What happened to me?”

“Addiction mainly.” Steve was there, behind him in the doorway, close but not touching. Never touching. He held a robe in his hand.

“I don’t do—”

“Mmm… you didn’t… not at first. You smoked but… drugs were more a business venture to you than a vice, right?” Absently, Eddie nodded. He’d dealt his fair share of weed, so what? How had he gone from dealer to— “one of those record labels that didn’t fit. You see… it’s easy to keep a band relevant and making money, when they’re always making headlines, good or bad, it doesnt matter, getting publicly trashed makes some people more money than it loses. Coupled with heartbreak, encouragement, and easy access… impulse control was never your strong suit, was it?” He spoke like he knew him. Maybe he did, Steve had said a genie knew its master, right? “World fame has its dark side. There’s no gain without some form of suffering, Eddie, especially when the gain is as gigantic as world fame.”

“Can—can I go back?”

“Of course you can, you need only wish it. However… I don’t think you should though. Not yet. This is jarring, seeing yourself like this, it’s incredibly jarring, however… you asked for world fame and haven’t even experienced it. Just a small downside. Why don’t you live the day, think of it as an opportunity to experience what this is like, maybe it’ll help you achieve some goals in your own time.” Eddie’s eyes returned to his own reflection, taking it in…

He kind of looked like Wayne. There were worse people he could look like in his older years, especially since people had always claimed he looked like his father. But no... he looked like Wayne. He took some comfort in that.

“…Will it be safe?” Steve regarded him with silence for a moment, just long enough for Eddie to understand. “Nothing’s ever totally safe, is it?”

“No, it’s not. But as your bodyguard I’ll be as close as I can at all times. You don’t need to ask if you can wish it either, if you want to go home, just wish it, and it’ll be done, alright?” Steve stepped forwards into Eddie’s space, and carefully draped the robe over his bare shoulders as Eddie nodded his acknowledgement and pulled the robe tighter around himself, Steve’s hands still there, a pleasantly warm and grounding weight on his shoulders. “Now you should shower, and get yourself dressed. You have a few things to do today so I’ll be waiting outside to take you to your first thing once you’re ready.”

Eddie was almost scared to ask. “Which is?”

“Breakfast of course, but then you’re taping a talk show so chop chop!”

Two quick claps in succession and Steve was off, headed for the door to give him some privacy as if he hadn’t just seen Eddie completely nude, ignoring the sharp, “A what?!” That followed from the bathroom as he exited the suite.

Part 4

#PirateWrites #IWishFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Genie!Steve #The Adventure begins!!

[jessmaybank]

Cardigan - Part one; hand under my sweatshirt

Based on the song Cardigan by Taylor Swift

Series Masterlist

Navigation

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader.

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: in which coming back from college and seeing him again, ruins everything.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs & violence, cheating, SMUT (a little), mentions & implications of public sexual acts, nipple play.

AN: lots of mutual pining, angst, jealousy and everything in between. Ex’s to lovers again. Flashbacks are in italics!

When you are young, they assume you know nothing

But I knew you

The day she had been dreading had finally come. Ever since she left for college, ever since she abandoned the life that was once all she knew, she wondered how it would feel coming back to outer banks. Coming back to the place where it all started.

She left for college about a year ago, eager to escape the harrowing memories of her past, and the people she lost along the way. That’s what she told her family anyway, that she needed a fresh start. That she needed to get away from all the familiar faces who chewed up her kindness and spat it straight back out, again and again, without a second thought. but in reality, the only person she was running away from was her ex boyfriend Rafe.

Her mind had been permanently plagued with memory’s of him since she left, tainted by the deep-seated pain of her first love, and as much as she would love to avoid him forever, summer in obx was something she didn't want to miss, and she missed her family. So, inevitably, she sucked it up and got a flight home.

She wished the memory of him would dissipate into the evening breeze as she sat in her mothers car, watching the horizon pass her by just as quickly as it came as they drove home from the airport. The radio played quietly in the background as she gazed into the golden skyline through the window, and the closer she got to figure eight, the more the memories started flooding back, like a whirlwind reminder of what could have been.

“3, 2, 1, go!” Topper shouts from his seat on the camping chair next to her, the light crackling of the fire filling her ears as the flames devoured the wood that they had gathered.

The beach was littered with drunk teenagers, and numerous crowds of tents to house everyone for the weekend, as part of the annual camping trip which graced the Outer Banks beach every year, to mark the start of summer. This tradition also just happened to be her favourite.

Topper opens his beer as quickly as possible, wasting no time in tipping the liquid down his throat, gulping it down swiftly. Everyone else followed suit in chugging down the beverage, and her eyes screwed shut as she got about half way, the questionable taste making her regret the decision to partake in these games.

As always, Kelce finishes his drink first, scrunching his can in his hands and chucking it into the fire, the smile on his face an indication that he’s clearly impressed with himself. She envied his drinking skills as she gave up, retracting her lips from the can when only about a quarter was left, her face scrunching up as she swallows the last of the liquid in her mouth.

“Has beer always tasted this bad?” She says, not sure if she’s asking herself or her friends around her.

“If your a pussy Y/N, just say that” a male voice taunts, and she didn’t have to turn her head to know who it was.

Rafe made his way towards the group, a backwards baseball cap sitting on his head rather lazily, as the sound of his footsteps trudging in the sand got louder and louder.

She was thankful she was wearing sunglasses as she took in his shirtless state, her jaw threatening to drop as she gawks at her boyfriends washboard abs, the defined muscles practically staring back at her.

He halted his movements as he stood right next to topper, just in time to watch her stick her middle finger up at him, a fake glare hidden behind her sunglasses. The corners of his lips turned upwards into a devious smirk, the sun painting his face in a golden hue, and she had to poke her tongue into the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling at him.

“I thought you couldn’t come until later?” She says, reaching to get another beer from the cooler, the condensation from the can running down her fingers, before she extends her arm to pass it to him.

“I’m good at sweet talking” he says smugly, sending her a subtle wink that only she noticed, before taking the beer out of her hand, their fingers touching briefly. She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see it, but it wouldn’t of mattered anyway. All he was concentrating on was the small grin that graced her features, her sweetness practically radiating off her. Rafe couldn’t believe someone as sweet as her would want to be with someone like him.

He thanked her for the beer with a quick peck on the lips, ignoring the gagging noises from Topper at their affections. She had been with Rafe for a while now, and although they had got used to the teasing from their friends, she wondered how much longer they would keep up the act for.

“Debatable. I bet you just didn’t wanna help set up the tents, so you lied about being busy” Topper says, used to his best friends lazy tactics.

“You think so low of me, Top” he says, a cheesy grin on his face as he adjusts his hat, before opening his can. He takes a swig, relishing in the cool liquid which contrasted heavily to the beaming sun which reflected down on them.

“Right, I’m going for a swim before the beach gets too crowded” she says, standing up from her chair and finishing the rest of her beer. She took off her rings that previously decorated her fingers before lifting her shirt over her head, blissfully unaware of the stunned expression on her friend’s faces as they admired her body.

Rafe, on the other hand, was all too aware. His clenched jaw was hard to miss as he slapped Toppers chest, sending both him and Kelce a glare.

“Wait for me” Rafe shouts as he watches her begin to walk down to the shore, almost loosing his balance as he observes her hips swaying from side to side. God, he could get used to that.

“Wait for me” Topper and kelce say at the same time, the mocking tone in their voices evident as they both laugh. And if they weren’t making fun of him, Rafe would of been impressed at how unionised they were. Rafe held his middle finger up, trying his best to maintain a serious look when Topper raised his arms up in surrender, a small smirk painted on his face.

The water was cool when she got in, her muscles relaxing almost immediately. She sighed as she fully submerged herself into the water, swimming deeper into the sea, but her relaxed aura disintegrated when she felt something wrap around her foot. She screamed as she turned around, her fearful expression contorting into a glare as she realised it was just Rafe, clearly trying to fuck with her.

“you make it too easy for me, baby” he laughs, pulling her body towards him, in awe of the freckles which danced along her cheeks, and all the way along her nose. But as her chest was pressed flush against his, she realised just how exhausted he looked, the bags under his eyes making her cringe a little.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concern laced in her voice as she runs a thumb along his slightly sunburnt cheek, just below his eyes.

She knew his dad had been putting him under a lot of pressure recently, and it pained her to see him like this, all tired and deflated. Even though he did his best to hide it from her, she could always tell.

He nodded, melting into her touch as he tilts his head, relishing in the gentle feel of her skin. His eyes shut for just a second as he snakes his arms around her waist, and it was moments like this she realised just how different he acted around her, compared to everyone else. And as much as she wished he wouldn’t put on a front all the time, she was grateful he let her see the real Rafe.

“Nothing I can’t handle baby. I just needed to see you” he says, and she couldn’t help but smile at her boyfriends sweet words, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“I can’t believe Topper and Kelce are going to be cock blocking me all weekend” he says, and she rolled her eyes at his vulgar statement, his sweetness evidently short lived.

“Like that’s ever stopped us before” she says, a tight-lipped smile on her face as she tries to hide her smirk.

Rafe had a shit-eating grin on his face as he recalled their past public escapades, reminiscing about the numerous times they indulged in public, even when their friends were too close for comfort. He just couldn’t help it sometimes, and neither could she.

She giggled as he grabbed her thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze before wrapping her legs around his waist. The gentle waves crashing around them drowned out her gasp as she felt his cock press against her clothed pussy, already starting to harden underneath her.

“Well, in that case…” he trails off, his smile never wavering as he takes a quick look around, making sure no one was too close before he tightens his grip on her waist, dipping his head to claim her lips in a harsh kiss.

And as she tangled her fingers into his hair, making him hum into her mouth almost immediately, she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

“Have you thought about the summer camping trip yet sweetie? Seemed like you really enjoyed it last year” Her mother asks, ripping her gaze away from the road ahead, and it was moments like this where she had to question if her mother could read her mind.

She turned her head to meet her mothers gaze, scanning her features as if to look for signs that she was in fact a mind reader. She noticed that she had a certain look in her eyes that she couldn’t quite place, but whatever it was, was tinged with concern.

“Im not sure, i'll think about it” she says, fidgeting with one of the threads on her jumper sleeve, one of the many tells of her anxiety.

“Okay. Oh- I forgot to say, I know you didn’t want to do anything big for your birthday, but I just couldn’t help myself…” her mother starts, and the side eye she gave her was unmissable.

“Oh god. What have you done?” She says, eyes wide with fear. She never really cared for her birthday, and therefore never made a big deal out of it. She hoped this year wasn’t an exception.

“I’ve invited some families around for a small party, nothing crazy. The Thorntons, the Cameron’s, the-“

“The Cameron’s?” She says, her voice raised as she draws in a sharp breath, head snapping to face her mother so fast, she could of got whiplash.

Her eyes were wide as she attempted to register what her mother just said, her muscles tensing with fear as she felt her heart practically sink to her feet. She was going to have to see him again. And as soon as her mother took one look at her daughters face, she knew she had fucked up.

She wanted to blame her mother, but she couldn't really. To her mothers knowledge, there was no hostility towards her and Rafe, and their breakup was mutual. In other words, she has never told her mother the real reason they broke up, or the fact that they don't talk anymore. At the start, it was just too painful, and telling her meant it was actually real. Now, it was like bringing up old news, and she didn't want to revisit the ghosts of her past.

She spent the rest of the journey pleading with her mother to un-invite them, but she wouldn’t budge, claiming it would be too rude to tell them they couldn’t come now, and the damage had already been done. Although she had always had soft spots for Sarah and Wheezie, she knew seeing Rafe again would break her into pieces.

But that didn’t matter now, she thought to herself, eyes trained on the raindrops which had started to trickle down the car window, the moody clouds a reflection of her own dismay. Using her mothers words, the damage had been done, and it was now time to face the music.

I knew you

Hand under my sweatshirt

Baby, kiss it better

She tapped her finger erratically on her leg as she sat on her desk chair in her bedroom, trying drastically to calm her nerves. This was officially the worst birthday ever, and she knew the worst was yet to come.

She finished the last of the wine she stole from her parents cupboards, the alcohol warming her insides as she inhales a deep breath, exhaling slowly, before checking her appearance in the mirror once again, ruffling her hair to give it more volume. She had already changed her outfit multiple times, wanting to make sure she looked good. But no matter how many times she checked her makeup, or fiddled with her hair, nothing felt sufficient.

She practically jumped out of her skin as the sound of the doorbell engulfed the house, her breath hitching in her throat. She sprayed her perfume on herself as her mother called her name, and gave herself a small but reassuring mental pep talk, before making her way down the stairs.

Her shoulders dropped with relief as she saw it was just the Thorntons, and she extended her arms out to embrace Topper as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Happy birthday! How is my favourite mai tai drinker?” Topper says as he hugs her, reminding her of the time she threw up after a long night of Mai tai’s and joints at his house; something that seemingly, she has never been able to live down.

“God, don’t remind me” she says, cringing at the memory.

“But that’s what friends are for?” He says, more of a question than a statement. His features held a playful expression, and she realised then she had missed her friends more than she thought.

She greeted Toppers parents, the familiar faces calming her anxiety a little as they all made their way to the garden, the music from the speakers getting louder and louder.

“This looks amazing mum, thank you” she said, a bright smile on her face as she hugs her mother, admiring all the decorations. Although this is definitely not what she wanted to be doing on her birthday, she could tell her mother put in a lot of effort, and she didn’t want to be ungrateful.

“Of course. Happy birthday darling” she says, before retreating in the kitchen to sort out a few things.

Once her mother was out of the sight, she pulled on Toppers arm, dragging him further down the garden, away from his parents “Top, I’m freaking the fuck out”

"what? why?" Topper says, his eyebrows furrowed.

"because, my moms invited-" her blood runs cold as she hears the doorbell again, and just by the look in her eyes, Topper instantly knew what was going on. “Rafe?” He asks. She nodded her head.

Luckily, it was just some old school friends, and she allowed her body to relax once again. She wondered how many mini-heart attacks it would take for Rafe to actually show up.

Her question was left unanswered as an hour past, and the Camerons still hadn't shown up. She didn't know whether she felt relieved or disappointed, but based on the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she definitely felt uneasy.

Despite this, she was actually having a good time. Kelce and the rest of her school friends turned up, and lets just say her mums wine stash was growing lesser by the minute.

"okay everyone, inside for the cake!" her mother yells, and everyone followed her inside promptly, taking a seat on the large dining table. She was just about to offer to help her mum cut the cake, when the doorbell went again. Her eyes shut in defeat, knowing there was only one family that was yet to turn up.

"ah! your just in time for the cake! come in, come in" she could hear her mother mumble from the hallway, and her heart dropped.

Low and behold, the Camerons waltzed into the dining room, and suddenly, she was stone cold sober. Ward was absent, which wasn't exactly unusual. He had missed so many of Rafe's important milestones growing up, so it wasn't a surprise he wasn't interested in hers.

Her eyes grew soft as they met Rafes gaze. He looked pretty much the same, although his hair had grown, and the way his dirty blonde locks fell in front of his face was doing something to her that she couldn't quite explain.

She hadn’t seen him for so long, that the memories she had of him where that of a timid ghost; one that always lingered but never pounced, and never allowed her to fully heal. But as she was standing in front of him now, in the flesh, everything felt so much more real. And it was clear his ghost had come back to haunt her, as vicious as ever.

But as he got closer, and she got a good look at his face, her insides started to twist in the worst way possible. The skin of his cheek was bruised purple, his eye was basically black, and the numerous cuts and scrapes that danced along his skin were accompanied by a cut lip. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a gasp, and she was sure everyone else was doing the same.

Rafe's heart skipped a beat as he saw her, his rationality crumbling before his eyes as he glanced at the girl who was once his everything. It was like their whole relationship flashed before his eyes in that very moment, and it was hard for him to breath. He tore his eyes away from her as the overwhelming emotions became too much, finding solace in staring at his feet instead. She wondered then if this was as hard for him as it was for her.

Wheezie was first to approach her, giving her a big hug as she wished her happy birthday, before Sarah and Rose did the same. And then, it was Rafe’s turn.

“Hey” she says, her lips turning upwards into a small smile. God, he had missed her smile.

“Hi. You look nice” he said in a soft voice, hands hidden from her as he fiddled with something in his pockets, a hesitant look in his eyes. It may of been a while, but she still knew the boy inside and out, and just by the deflated look in his blue orbs, she could tell he wasn’t doing well.

“Thanks” she said, giving him a tight lipped smile in response. There was so much she wanted to say. But with so many people around, she couldn’t.

The next twenty minutes were extremely awkward. Rafe didn't say a word to anyone, and you could practically cut through the tension with a knife. Her eyes were glossy as she blew out her candles, and it took everything in her to fake a smile and hold herself together. She had a good poker face, but Rafe could see right through her as he sat across the table, a pit of dread in his stomach as he observed the sadness that lay behind her eyes. He poked and prodded at his untouched piece of cake as he matched her dull expression, before Sarah decided to break the silence.

"so Y/N, hows college? are the people nice?"

"um, yeah" she says, swirling her fork around her plate. She really wasn't in the mood to elaborate.

"she's made lots of friends, haven't you sweetie? she even has a new-"

"mom" she says, more as a warning, looking up from her plate now.

"what? as i was saying, she as a new boyfriend" her mother says, as oblivious as ever, pausing to take a sip from her wine glass.

her eyes shut in defeat for a second, but she didnt miss the way Rafe's eyes snapped up, his jaw clenching at the revelation. she's moved on.

it was true, she had a new boyfriend. The relationship was new, but he was sweet. She would be lying if she said he made her feel the things Rafe did, though.

"oh, thats wonderful! whats he like?" Toppers mum says, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was provoking.

"um-" she was cut off with a clang before she could even start her sentence, everyones eyes darting to Rafe as the sound of him dropping his fork on his plate fills the room, his fists balled on the table.

"excuse me" Rafe says, not waiting for a response before he jumps up, storming out of the room without so much as a glance. She mumbles a quick "fuck" under her breath, her guilty conscience getting the best of her when she too sprang up, following him out of the room without giving it too much thought.

She walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, her movements coming to a halt when she spotted him outside, staring at him through the glass doors that led to the garden. She grabbed a random sweatshirt from one of the kitchen stools, and took a deep breath before heading outside.

He didn't look at her as she walked out, but he knew she was there. instead, he gazed at the pool in front of him. "new boyfriend, huh?" he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, his jaw still clenched.

"Yeah well, atleast he can actually look me in the eyes" she says, folding her arms over her chest. He took that as a dig, and turned to look at her then, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. It was painfully obvious he was still in love with her, hell, he probably always would be. But who could blame him? It was the kind of love you only saw in the movies, the same kind of love Rafe never believed in, until he met her.

"what happened to your face?" she says weakly, just above a whisper, as if it pained her to say it.

he opened his mouth and then closed it again, like a gulping fish, debating whether to tell her the truth or not. His mouth opened once again, ready to speak before his eyes trailed down to her sweatshirt. And just like that, he froze.

“You kept it” he says, and her eyes followed his, peering down at her sweatshirt before she too froze. Holy shit, she forgot it was his.

She walked with Sarah out into the garden at the Cameron house, taking a sip of her vodka orange as she walked past Rafe to the sun beds. He was watering the plants, no doubt a chore his dad asked him to do before he left the house this morning. But given his shirtless state, she definitely wasn’t complaining.

They had just started seeing each other, but they hadn’t told anyone yet, not wanting to deal with the agro from their friends. But again, she wasn’t complaining. As it turns out, sneaking around was a lot of fun.

“Have you no shame? Uncle Reggie doesn’t even drink this early” Rafe taunts, referring to his alcoholic relative Reggie, who had a reputation for always ruining family events.

“Debatable. I once saw him use tequila instead of milk in his cereal” Sarah says.

“Bite me, Cameron” she claps back at Rafe, smiling sweetly at him before perching on the sun bed.

I’d love to, he thought, but he bit his tongue at the presence of his sister. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her summer dress, the flimsy material just daring to be pulled down her body as he glanced at the flirtatious look that danced in her eyes.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a man with a hose” he threatens, his signature smirk gracing his cherry red lips. She wasn’t sure she could get used to his smile even if she tried.

“You wouldn’t dare” she says, confident in her words as she laid back in the chair with her eyes closed, letting the sun drench her skin.

“Wouldn’t i?”

her eyes shot open as she felt cold water being sprayed all over her body, a loud scream leaving her lips.

“Holy shit!” She screams, springing up from the chair to run away from him, a breathy laugh leaving her lips. He stopped eventually, once he had his fun, but the amused look on his face turned into a stunned expression, his mouth agape as he noticed the way her dress had become somewhat transparent.

“Perv!” Sarah says to her brother, eyeing the way he was shamelessly staring at her wet figure. She mentally cursed him then for his lack of control, he didn’t even try to hide it.

She went inside to change, grabbing the first thing she saw in the laundry room, which happened to be a pair of sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt. It wasn’t the most flattering outfit in the world, but it would do. When she opened the door to make her way back into the garden, she found Rafe on the other side of it.

“Scale of 1 to 10?” He says, a cheeky look on his face.

Whenever they would bicker or annoy each other, they would always ask the other to rate their rage in a scale of 1 to 10, as a way of gaging whether the disagreement was serious or not.

“A strong 9. I’m plotting my revenge as we speak” she says, a smile painting her face that made all of his defences crumble. He let out a genuine chuckle at her remark

“Your wearing my sweatshirt” he observes, a cheesy grin on his face as he raises his eyebrows.

At this point, their secret relationship was lacking a label, and she wasn’t sure if they were at the clothes-wearing stage yet. “Oh, sorry. I’ll take it off” she says, her voice weak. She went to lift the material over her head when he stopped her.

“No, no, keep it. You look good in it” he says, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling her closer.

“Plus…I want you wearing it when I do this” he says, guiding her backwards into the laundry room and shutting the door with his foot. She giggled as he began peppering sweet kisses on her neck, and her hands immediately clung to his hair, relishing in the feel of his soft lips. He just couldn’t help but smirk into her skin as her breathing got heavier and heavier, and it dawned on him then that, label or not, he was hers. “Your smooth Cameron, I’ll give you that”

“Of course I kept it” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And to her, it was.

His features softened at her words, and he came to the realisation then that maybe, just maybe, all hope wasn’t lost. He tried to stop himself from stepping towards her, but he just couldn’t. And as soon as the smell of her perfume invaded his senses, he knew he was a goner.

“Does your boyfriend touch you like I did?” He asks, his voice low as he dips his head to hers, eyes focused on her glossy lips. One wrong move, and his lips would be on hers.

She couldn’t deny the way her insides melted as her eyes widened slightly, a certain intensity laying behind his eyes that made all of the blood rush to her head. The lust within his blown out pupils only added fuel to the fire as he brought his hands up to her thighs, tracing his fingers upwards along her skin, before his hands reached under the hem of her sweatshirt.

Her breath hitched in her throat as his hands dipped under the material, roaming around her bare hips, pulling her closer to him, if that was even possible. One hand then settled on the small of her back, whilst the other creeped up to her clothed breast. He swiped his thumb over her hardened nipple, and as she let out a small whimper, he had to bite his lip to suppress a smirk.

“I-“ her words turned into mush as he pushed the top of her dress aside, making her jerk against him as he pinches her nipple. The cold metal of his rings cooled down her burning skin as he touched her breast, and she felt like her knees were going to give way at any moment.

“I bet he doesn’t” he whispers in her ear, taunting her even further, even though based on her reaction, he already knew her answer. She could feel his smirk when he placed a kiss on her head, his familiar after shave making her question why they even broke up in the first place. She knew then that she was screwed.

The sound of the garden door opening snapped her out of her blissful trance, and she pulled away from him, ignoring every urge in her body that wanted to pull him close again. The loss of her warmth almost made him frown as the distance between them increased, and when he saw topper standing at the top of the garden, he never wanted to punch his best friend more.

“Uh, your mum wanted me to check if everything is alright” Topper says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he tried to ignore what he just walked in on.

“Yeah, um, we should probably head back in” she says, refusing to meet Rafe’s eyes as she turns on her feet, making her way back inside.

“Top, give us a minute” Rafe says, and she halts her movements, turning back around to face him. Topper nodded his head swiftly before treating back indoors.

“I just- I got you this. Happy birthday” he says, walking over to her, before pulling out a small box in his pocket. It was wrapped in blue wrapping paper, finished off with a small white ribbon, and she couldn’t help the wide smile that escaped her lips. He got her a present.

“Oh. Thank you” she said, taking the box out of his hand. Their fingers brushed briefly, and she couldn’t ignore the butterflies she felt in her stomach.

“We should…” she starts, gesturing her hand towards the house.

“Oh. Yeah” he says, his voice somewhat shaky. It was strange how he could go from dominant to a nervous reck in the space of a few seconds. He hated what she turned him into. She was the only one that could break his defences by the click of a finger, and it was terrifying.

He wanted to grab her hand, or yell for her to stay, but he didn’t. Instead, he waltzed back up the garden steps behind her, before entering the dining room again with one question on his mind.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much did you miss me?

#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader

[deathblacksmoke]

call me when you get the chance

pairing: noah sebastian x nick ruffilo x fem reader

cw: polyamorous relationship, long distance yearning, it’s pretty fluffy my friends

taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @lma1986 / @monotoniscreaming / @xxrainstorm / @agravemisstake

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!

author’s note: thank you lady v once again for the beta; i added some pitt back in just for you. and thank you @darksigns-exe for the poly boyfriends brainworms. no smut in here - wild change of pace. and i’ll probably be writing more little bits of these sweet babes at some point 🤍 i got euclid on the brain so title from that, obvi. enjoy!

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

Nick sends a postcard from every city.

Missing you from Atlanta! Love, Nicholas.

It makes you feel warm and loved, every time you open your mailbox to another card from another city, with your partner’s pretty writing on the back.

You imagine him standing in the store for ages, sifting through the cards, trying to pick the perfect one for your gallery wall. You imagine Noah picking one out as a joke, and Nick scoffing, putting it back irritated.

No, man, she’s particular about her wall. Remember?

It makes your chest swell. You long to be there, to play mediator like you do when they’re both home with you. They need it sometimes, and you’re sure Jolly could use the break every now and again.

Noah sends memes. They’re ones you would never see otherwise because you won’t step foot on Twitter, but they make you smile and remind you of him, his stupid sense of humor, and the way his face lights up when he laughs. You close your eyes and imagine it, his eyes scrunching closed with his laugh, and your chest tightens.

They always send a selfie when they get off stage, and another before bed, sometimes a FaceTime if you’re still up. They don’t show you their intertwined hands. They know it makes you jealous and weepy, but you’re so grateful that they have each other. You imagine them kissing when the call ends and you cry anyway.

***

When you couldn’t make it to the show you had all planned for, you thought that was it. Work gets in the way again, sends you out of town, but you’ll see them when they come home to you and all will be okay.

The show looks incredible. You brave social media just this once to see clips of your boys, weep in bed in your hotel room. You stay up late to see them before you sleep—they tell you they wish you were there, they miss you, they love you. You catch a glimpse of a love bite on Nick’s chest and wish it could have come from you. You fantasize about quitting your job. You get closer every day.

The postcard comes two days later, a pop-art rendition of the Pittsburgh skyline, Nick’s little note scrawled across the back. It feels silly to have but you knew he wouldn’t dare to break the tradition he’s created.

Wish you were here! Love always, your Nicholas.

You don’t know how much longer you can go without them, holding back tears as you put the card in its frame, giving it its place on the wall.

You feel helpless and hopeless until you get an email, the airline notifications you had set up on cost changes doing you a solid, for once. Flight to LAX, suspiciously affordable, landing at 2 PM on the 8th of October.

It’s not a question. You don’t think twice. You have the PTO, and your boss can’t possibly deny you again. And if they do, fuck it, you’ll really dig your heels in about them needing another girl working on the tour. You’ll get Lana on your side this time around. They can’t say no to you both.

You book the ticket, arrange a guest list spot with Matt and buzz with excitement in preparation for your surprise.

***

You never tire of watching them perform.

The way Noah owns the stage, running from stage left to stage right, commanding the crowd to chant and jump with him. Nicholas, his long hair swaying with each rock of his neck to the beat of the song. His slender fingers grip the neck of his bass as he bounces his leg, growling backing vocals going straight through you. You wish you could be at every show. You swell with pride and know you couldn’t have picked two better boys to share your life.

You head to the green room when they come back out to say their thank yous and goodbyes. You hate to miss the photo slides but you helped pick most of the photos, anyway. Lots from your private collection and you think maybe you owe some of these people a “you’re welcome.”

Sitting on the old, worn leather couch, you start to panic. You’ve never surprised them before. Noah hates surprises, but you hope at least you’re a good one.

Folio comes through the door first, followed by Jolly, and the door swings back closed. Shocked at first when they see you, Folio’s face breaks out into a huge grin before turning on his heels.

“Yo, Noah, you’re gonna wanna see this—” he yells as he swings the door back open, to reveal Nick, sweaty and looking exhausted, but when his eyes land on you—

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

You can barely make it out above the roar of noise in the hallway. You don’t know where Noah is, but Nick looks as gorgeous as you’ve ever seen him. You need to take a deep breath but find your throat stopping you as your vision starts to blur. The look on his face as he crosses the room to you melts your anxiety in an instant. You haven’t seen him in so long. And he’s here. He’s right here with you.

When he reaches you, he sinks to his knees at your feet. His fingers digging into your thigh, eyes glazed over as he looks up at you, you lean down to meet him halfway.

The feeling of his lips on yours makes you feel dizzy. The feel of the wetness on his cheeks when you cup his face makes you want to sob, but you don’t, you lick into his mouth and bask in the sound of his gasp.

“Where the fuck were you,” he speaks into your mouth when he pulls away from you.

His fingers are gripping your thigh painfully. You know you’ll bruise, you wince, but it’s Nick and you don’t care. You’ll press your fingers there when you get home and you’ll think of him and—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was flirting with the pretty bartender. I think you’d like her, Nicky, do you think Noah will go for a fourth?”

He’s leaning in for another kiss when you hear the green room door slam back open, thundering steps getting closer and closer until Nick is jostled forward, Noah’s head resting on his shoulder, eyes focused on you.

“You were a very naughty girl, keeping this secret from us,” Noah says, his head angling to press kisses and nip at Nick’s neck. Nick grins and you watch as the hand that was digging into your thigh takes Noah’s hand and laces their fingers.

When you’re far away, it makes you jealous. When you’re right here, when you have them both in front of you, that’s the furthest thing from your mind.

When you kiss Noah and he smiles into it, when the hand not laced with Nick’s threads through your hair, when Nick nips at your neck while Noah kisses you, you’ve never felt more at home.

Because they are your home.

“Nicky let me pick your postcard this time,” Noah tells you when he pulls away.

“You’ll hate it,” Nick says, but he’s grinning as he stands up to rummage through his backpack.

When he returns to you and holds it out, it’s a silly little card, but both their names are signed this time.

Loving you from LA. Love, your Nicholas and Noah.

Noah’s grinning as wide as you’ve ever seen. It’s your favorite of the bunch.

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nick ruffilo x reader #noah sebastian x reader #nicholas ruffilo x reader #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo x reader #deathblacksmoke works

[shidouryusm]

little universe - gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: in the last hours of dusk you realise how much Satoru means to you

word count: 1.4k

content: soft satoru, way too soft reader, fluff.

a.n - im too disgustingly soft for this towering paintbrush. I will kiss his eyes a thousand times

The summer sky casted an endless blue, painting the skyline with her depth. Somewhere in the distance, the silence of this passing hour was cut by the songs of cicadas. and in the midst, you see Satoru. sitting on the porch, propped against the door.  a hand resting against his cheek as his eyes reach the infinity of the blue ahead of him. 

“toru?” your voice prompting him to break the unsaid staring contest and look at you. You bring your hand, raking through his hair, it’s muscle memory for you at this point. His hair, slightly damp from the shower earlier,was flattened over his forehead, tufts of it covering the cerulean eyes. His hair felt like light clouds drifting through your fingers,holding a softness in it that makes you wanna play with it forever. 

Satoru hums, feeling your touch. a sweet smile playing along his lips as he watches you take a seat beside him.

“you planning something devious? sitting like that.”, gojo laughs– a small breathy laughter, escaping his nostrils. his lips curving into his one sided smile upon your words.“can’t a man enjoy the simplicity of the nature. must I always be doing something”

“well, you aren’t exactly the type to…meditate under the nature, 'toru. it’s natural for me to conclude you’re probably plotting” you slash your hand against your throat “– world destruction or something nefarious like that. I'm not opposed at all though” you shrug your shoulders.

Gojo laughs again, a bit louder this time. his childish chuckle mixing with the buzz of the cicadas. A swarm of giddiness runs down your spine at his unadulterated boyishness. 

“Is this what you feel about me, darling? well, that’s saddening”, his large hand wraps you around your shoulder, pulling you against him, your body flush against the sides as you encircle your arm around his waist, you feel his thumb rubs small circles on your shoulder. Satoru presses a small kiss between your eyes before resting his cheek against you. An act of sheer comfort and tranquility. 

Silence veils over you both once again as you watch the blue sky deepening her shade, encroaching the night’s call. The colour of it resembling your lover’s eyes inadvertently making you look at them.

His eyes holds depth you can’t bring yourself to fathom. eyes that have witnessed acts you wish you could reverse time and undo. eyes that have seen through the uglies of the world that sometimes all you want is to wrap your hands around and protect them.

Yet these eyes hold unbounded beauty. eyes that conveys infinite promises to you. eyes that have never left the glint of mischievousness.

Eyes with so many layers of blue that you could sit down and point them out. Eyes even beautiful than the spread of the sky above and eyes that has left you falling more and more for him every passing day. 

“thinking something about me, sweetheart?” his drawling voice brings you back. His eyes are narrowed at you, eyebrows raised, as he brings his face closer. His nose brushes against your temples, small breaths tickling the skin, while he plants a sudden, sloppy and a rather wet kiss on your cheek. “you wanna go in for some–”

“Toru, that is vile. did you just smear your spit on me” you scrunch your face, touching the damp spot on your cheek where he kissed.

“Why you’re acting like I don’t do it every nigh….HEY OW OKAY SORRY” you pinch his sides with your arm that was wrapped around his waist. Glowering at him before resuming to lean against his chest, “sit here quiet and nicely.” 

“so mean.” you hear him mutter before tightening his hold on you, bringing you even closer. You smile, feeling his head resting against you again, as he releases a contented sigh. 

A waft of wind blows through the front porch. You watch the overgrown lawn swaying along the rhythm. There’s a sense of vulnerability in this moment, with the lingering hues of the fleeting blue hour. You and him. Unprotected yet so shielded within each other. 

Satoru’s heartbeat echos through your ear. The constant murmurs of his heart that is too big for his own good, sends your thoughts to an overdrive. 

His cheeky persona has always masked the care and love he harbours for the younger generation. His countless attempts have always wanted to set apart the world from the raw ugliness that he had to endure. His growth over the years has set himself on the pedestal of “the honored one”. A beacon of hope. The strongest of the Jujutsu world. A one man army to fix every twisted mess of Jujutsu.

But to how many is he Satoru? A raging sweet-tooth who takes drink orders, unimaginably sweeter for a normal human. A guy with a palm-in-the-face dressing sense. Someone who will mess up the bathroom in the mornings.Someone who will purposely use your shower stuff because it feels like you’re with me always. Someone who will pout and jut his lips to get something they want, too endearing for you to stick to your uptightness. Someone who purposely spoils a movie for you if he watched it ahead.

Someone who displays all the pride in the world while mentioning his students as if they are his flesh and blood,often treating them with whatever they demand. Someone who has a laughter ringing like a dulcet, and someone who is just…purely Satoru. 

You raise your head, facing him as you cup his cheek. A little sudden to surprise him but nonetheless melting into the touch. Your thumb rubs the rosy apple of his cheek, while his lips press a quick kiss to the inside of your palm. 

“don’t you get tired, toru?” your voice dripping with earnesty, your eyes pleading him to say yes just so you can say take some rest. 

Your insides points accusatory fingers to the world to make them see him as him. To let him take a break. To let him be his old self.

“I certainly do. I just wanted some sexy time with you and you turned me down. Im tired of being heartbroken all the time, baby”, satoru feigns sadness, closing his eyes with mocking despair. You shake your head, knowing he would avert it. 

 “Toru, you know what I’m talk-”

He stops you mid sentence with an abrupt small kiss, his lips tentatively hovers over yours before completely resting them. His large hand palming most of your face, tucking a hair behind your ear. 

The kiss, unlike every other, held unsaid words. As if your toru understood what you meant and conveys the answers wordlessly through shared lips and breaths. 

He pulls away, tucking your head against the crevice of his neck,his hands tangled in your hair, “I have you, my sweets. You may be a little obnoxious, leaving my heart into pieces, but having you is enough for me. more than enough if possible” his soft voice resonates in your ears.

Your throat feels lumpy at his words, arms tightening their hold on him. His admission filling a gap in your heart you never knew you had. You understand what he meant. The world may be oblivious to this side of his, but you aren’t. 

The vulnerability that he pours out to you singles you out from them. The rest may anchor themselves on him, but he rests on you – forever will. A piece of his youth has still remained and it is cradled safe in your hearts. Away from the world, forming a makeshift universe – holding just you and him.

He may be the strongest to the world but he was Satoru to you. The messy haired teenager you somehow managed to fall in love with. The haughty second year who grew into an individual filled with love bigger than the sky and compassion touching ends of the universe. It was your Satoru amidst the “honoured one”

“Well, you’re stuck with me now, no matter how much obnoxious you find me. You dug yourself a hole with this one”, a kiss plants against his chest, right where his heart is. right where the unbroken universe of yours resides. 

“Oh did I? how unfortunate of me”

As the last light of the fleeting evening hides under the blanket of nightfall, you make a promise to safeguard this Satoru away from the broken world. 

oh to kiss this dumbass between the eyes and keep him in my pocket

oh tagging @stsgluver because baby said so

#sam.writes #sam.in.jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x you fluff #gojo satoru imagines #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #gojo x reader fic #gojo fics #jujutsu kaisen fics #jjk fic #jjk headcanons #gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader drabbles #gojo headcanons

[astayinwonderland]

I saw her first

pairing: jaehyun x f.reader x mark

genre: smut || very little plot || +18

summary: you are tired after a long day of meetings but you step into an elevator with jaehyun-- however, you don't know mark has his eyes on you too

word count: 1.9k

warnings: threesome, pet names, unprotected sex (don't), cursing, oral (f.receiving), cumshot, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom jae

a/n: the first ff I post anywhere so... enjoy! also english is not my first language

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚

When your eyes meet his, you are undeniably possessed by his gaze. Nothing in this world could compare to the way he looks at you. It’s intoxicating, but your fingers brushed, and the heat between your legs crave him and only him. 

“Which floor?” he asked. His voice is husky, calm. 

You clear your throat before you answer. 

“Thirteen.” 

He looks at you and says nothing. The elevator is still stuck on the Mezzanine level, but his fingers are on the close button and you can hear how your shaky breath blends into the background music. His eyes are light on you, and a shade of crimson crosses his cheeks. Chuckling, he presses thirteen on the elevator and watches how you regain composure. Curious, he crosses his arms around his broad chest. You want to feel his weight over your body right now. 

“Long night?” he asks. 

“The longest” you manage to reply. 

Bright eyes scan you up and down. You wish you wore your sluttiest dress tonight, but a beige cardigan hides all of your curves now. Traveling for work, you find yourself at a 6-day conference. Day 6 out of 6 you have not gotten the time to explore around the city. However, when you spot Jaehyun, your dream man, in the same elevator, this conference trip might not be bad at all. 

He takes two steps towards you and takes the ID dangling right above your abdomen. His eyes scan up to your breasts and he stops to look into your eyes. 

“Your name is pretty, just like you,” he smirks. 

In what seems to be the longest elevator ride ever, you nod getting a laugh from him. He presses another number on the elevator number pad. This is number twenty-five. His lips are so close to you now, you allow him to come closer. His plush lips hover over yours as his eyes devour you, disguised under his blonde fringe. 

“Come over to the twenty-fifth?” 

Silence. 

The elevator dings. This is floor thirteen, your floor. The safe haven you’ve been daydreaming about all day. But this was before Jaehyun was this close to you. 

You reach the close button and the elevator doors shut close. 

You grab Jaehyun by the collar of his body-tight black shirt and pull him into a kiss. Surprised, his eyes widen, but shortly you feel him melt into you. Hands grabbing your ass, wanting more. His tongue collides with yours, the taste of wine and desire overpowering you. Backing up, you find yourself pinned against the elevator doors. You almost didn’t notice when you are already on floor twenty-five. 

Jaehyun pushes you softly to get yourself out of the sinful enclosed space, never breaking your kiss. Tasting every lick, every liplock, everything you offer him. You are lost in him. His touch, his scent. You pull his hair enough to make him softly moan as he kisses you until you reach the double doors. You break the kiss to gasp for air. He shows you his room keys and you smile willingly. 

The doors open and the view of the city is breathtaking. You can’t help but be in awe. The lights are off, so all you can see are streetlights and the beautiful skyline of buildings. It is quite a scenery. Jaehyun hugs you from behind and starts to plant small kisses on your neck. 

“I am not doing anything you don’t want to.”

“Who said I didn’t want to, Jaehyun.” 

To his surprise, you knew his name, and he is pleased. His ego was boosted.

“So… you know me?” 

“Yes,” you say not turning to look at him. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers. 

Kiss open-mouth kisses travel from your neck to your shoulder as he cups your breasts and starts to undress you. You are stripped down to your bra when suddenly you hear a third person in the room. 

You jump, scared. 

The third person clears their throat. 

“I didn’t think you would go through it,” the voice says. 

Jaehyun, laughs, unbothered. 

You spin and look at Jaehyun, puzzled. What on Earth is happening?

Jaehyun moves to turn on the lights. 

Mark Lee. Sitting on the couch directly across from you. 

Your reaction is to cover your chest, shocked, and embarrassed. Your eyes find Jaehyun, his look apologetic. 

“I didn't know he was here, princess,” Jaehyun starts. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark says. He stands up and hands you your shirt. 

“See, Jaehyun saw you the other day, early in the morning. I saw you the day after that. I honor the fact that he wanted you first. But if you would allow us to please you, baby, you’ll have no regrets.” 

You are stunned. Speechless.

“What do you say?” Mark’s head cocks to the side, silver-white hair dangling to the side of his face.

“I call the shots, I saw her first,” Jaehyun pushes Mark closer to you. “Kiss him, princess.” 

You look at Jaehyn, your eyes lost, confused. You want this, you can feel Mark’s gaze on your breasts, on your lips. Anxious, waiting impatiently for you to accept him. A rush of adrenaline curses your head, and your chest, it goes down to the oh-so-sweet spot you crave these men to enter. You put your arms around Mark’s neck as you kiss him deeply. Letting go of any embarrassment you found within yourself before. Mark Lee tastes like desperate lust. He hungrily kisses you while Jaehyun focuses on getting rid of the pieces of clothing that cover your dripping sex. 

“Fuck,” Mark gasps from air breaking off the kiss. 

Drunk on his kiss, you are still not aware of your bearings when Jaehyun is already stripping his clothes off and guiding you to the bed. He doesn’t lay you there but only bends you over. Half of your body is on the bed, the rest of you still standing. Jaehyun kneels, and you feel his hot breath directly on your entrance. Your heavy panting is the only sound in the room. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. What would you like me to do with you?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Please,” you say, not really knowing what you are asking for. 

Mark stares at the two you you, blankly. He looks like he is in a trance-like state. Walking towards you and Jaehyun, he undoes his pants. 

“You sit there and watch,” Jaehyun orders. “Do you forget I saw her first?”

Mark runs his hand over his hair in frustration but can’t help to smile. He obeys and sits down on the same couch you found him before. However, his pants now pool on his ankles as well as his boxers. He looks at you, drunk in lust, slowly stoking himself, cock hard, red, erect. 

“Shit!” you yell. 

Jaehyun, flat, wet tongue slides inside you. Your hands grab the bedsheets fiercely as his tongue licks a long stripe from your clit to your entrance. 

“She tastes so good,” he tells Mark. “It’s glory,” and you feel him slide a finger inside you, stretching you out while his spit makes you even wetter and his tongue flicks up and down your clit. It’s sweet torture, keeping you right on edge, enjoying every second of you climbing to your high. 

But, Mark, oh Mark. His eyes are glued to you as your face expresses pleasure beyond understanding. He wants to be Jaehyun, he wants to be the cause of your moans. He wants you to hear you say his name when you cum. 

“Mark, come here,” Jaehyun says, not interrupting the pace at which his fingers enter you. “Taste her”. 

And now the world seems to slow down when Jaehyun removes his fingers from your squelching pussy and asks you to turn around. You find your legs spread on the bed, Mark standing in from of you. 

“Touch yourself, princess, and have Mark have a taste.” 

You swallow hard, but you obey. There is something alluring about Jaehyun's voice, like the voice of a siren. Beautiful, dangerous, but almost impossible to escape. Two of your fingers enter your core, and your immediate reaction is to close your legs. Luckily, or unluckily, at this point you are not sure, Jaehyun is there to keep your legs open. When you are about to get your fingers out completely. Mark shakes his head. 

“More,” he asks. 

And you obey him as well, his eyes begging for more. He wants all of you. You keep going, but you are so close to cumming that your moans start to get louder. 

“If I don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you let out desperately. It feels so good to have them watching you like this, you need one of them to stop you or you’ll be a goner. 

“Let me–” Mark interrupts, and you stick your fingers inside his open mouth. He savors every bit. Sucking on your fingers again and again. Without Jaehyun telling you to do so, you voluntarily spit on Mark’s aching cock. His eyes close as he resumes his stroking, thinking only about you. 

“You are naughty,” Jaehyun whispers while climbing to the bed where he manhandles you and gets one of your legs over your shoulders. 

Entering slowly, Jaehyun’s cock is perfect in every single way. He knows how to fuck. Waiting for you to adjust to him he starts deep and slow. The lustful rhythm makes your eyes cross and your head spin. 

“Tell me how you like it,” Jaehyun asks. 

“Fuck, I love it,” your eyes shut close, taking it all in. 

His pace quickens and your other leg wraps around him, grabbing his ass you encourage him to go deeper, faster, you want all of him and you want it now. A sharp breath catches your attention across the room. Mark, sweat dripping from his forehead, hair damp. Breathless as he watches you intently trying to get his high. Pre-cum leaks from his cock and you want it. The way he looks at you and Jaehyun inside you, this was it. You feel you are so close, the knot in your stomach ready to give up. You want them, you need them, and you can’t do this without both of them. 

Your moans are screams at this point. Jaehyun reaches your sweet spot and knowing you are close his thumb presses circles on your clit. 

“Fuck, please… I am so close,” you beg, 

“Please what, princess?” Jaehyun asks, breathless. 

“Make me cum.” 

“You heard that, Mark? Come closer,”: 

But Mark’s head is in outer space. He needs you to tell him that, it is you or no one else. 

“Mark–” you gasp. 

Now he walks towards you, not interrupting his own pleasure because you are the reason for that pleasure. You, all fucked out, is too much for him.

“Cum, princess. Only after you cum we can,” Jaehyun says. 

But you need him to say it again. 

“Cum for us, princess,”; Jaehyun repeats, and that does the trick. 

You look at Mark. 

“Cum hard for us,” he says. 

Your body spasms as you reach your so-desired climax and Jaehyun keeps fucking you through it while getting to his. A deep groan escapes his mouth as he pulls out and cums on your breasts. Mark is trying to get there but you open your mouth and he sees white. 

Hot cum is shot in your mouth as he finds his blissful relief. 

“Fuck…” he whispers before collapsing on the bed with you and Jaehyun. 

You can barely move when you feel hands helping you up and cleaning the evidence of a lustful night. You feel warm as Jaehyun plants a kiss on your temple. You open your eyes and give him a smile. Unexpectedly, Mark turns your head away from Jaehyun and his lips meet yours, a long-deep kiss. Your heart flutters and the so-well-known heat makes your nipples hard. 

“What?” Mark smiles. “It’s my turn, baby.”

#nct #nct127 #jaehyun #mark lee #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct hard thoughts #nctzen

[monster-disaster]

I wish I had some good ideas to help you spark your inspiration! 🥺 The only halfway decent idea I got is a Monster (preferably Goblin) with a cat that always escapes/sneaks off to the neighbor and thus plays matchmaker, despite both of them telling themselves they don't want a relationship atm. 😄 It's ok if you won't write it! 💗 Have a good day!

Hello! Thank you for the request! It was a cute idea! :D goblin x reader warnings: none

The first rays of the sun stretch across the city skyline, casting a golden glow over the streets and swiping away the darkness with ease. The buildings stand tall and proud under the gentle hue of the globe peeking out behind the horizon, their silhouettes cutting sharp against the brightening sky. Below, the streets are already coming to life. The chatter of the people on the sidewalks mixes with the constant sounds of the traffic. Cars weave in and out of lanes with tempered impatience, their headlights twinkling. Their honking punctuates the chilly morning air.

Ut's steps are heavy on the metal stairs. It rattles under his black boots as he makes his way down to your floor. The goblin's chest is already filled with annoyance. A silent snarl contorts his face.

Crouching down in front of your window, he stays still for a long second. His jeans are too tight for such a movement, but he doesn't care about it. His big eyes find you easily, standing at the counter and putting a disgusting amount of sugar into your coffee. Your hair is a mess, and you are still wearing your pajamas. An old shirt hides the curves of your body, but the shorts hug your ass tightly. Perfectly.

Ut has to force himself to knock on your window before you notice him. The sudden sound of his knuckles on the clean glass makes you jump. The mug almost falls from your hands as your head snaps his way. "Where is my cat?" He asks before you can do anything. His voice is muffled because of the closed window. He opens his palms questioningly. The golden rings glint on his long fingers as he waits for your answer. A frown pulls on your brows, and you purse your lips in annoyance. You can't believe this male. "What do you want?" You snap at him when you open your window. Your mug is still in your hand, warming your fingers. "Where is my cat?" He asks again, looking around your small kitchen from the fire escape. His big eyes scan your small space, searching for the animal. "How should I know?" You ask him. "He didn't come over this morning." Your attention turns to the untouched bowl on the counter, not far from the window. It's still filled with cat food. Ut groans. "I told you don't feed him." Your shrug. "He comes over even when I don't feed him." Yeah, the goblin has some doubts about it.

Silence settles between you two while traffic still filters through your window. A dog barks somehwere far. Its voice echoes off the buildings.

And slowly, panic finds its way into your chests.

"Where is he, Ut?" You ask him, eyes wide. "Where is our cat?" The male grunts. "My cat," he corrects you. His long ears twitch and flatten against the sides of his head. Turning his back to you, he looks down the alley below, searching for the familiar gray fur or any movement around the trash cans. Their foul smell fills his nostrils. "Go and look around on the streets," you tell him hurriedly. "I go over to the neighbors." He wants to snarl at you for ordering him but stays quiet instead. His cat is not capable of living on the streets. He is allergic and so fucking lazy. There is no way he chose the streets instead of eating at your house. "Fine," he grunts.

When you leave your apartment, you can still hear the metallic rattle of the fire escape as Ut runs down on it.

You are not sure how much time you spend going from door to door, disturbing your neighbors' morning and trying to hide your growing panic after every "I didn't see him" and "I'm sorry".

And Ut isn't doing better either, hurrying along the streets and snarling at people who look at him funnily. By the time he reaches the bottom of the fire escape, his phone is already in his hand, looking for the phone numbers of the nearby shelters.

"Ut!" Your voice comes from above him. When he looks up, you stand on the metal platform on your apartment's floor. You lean over the railing with a gray fluff in your arms. You are still in your pajamas with a mess of hair, but there is a huge smile on your face.

"Fuck," Ut grunts as the air leaves his lungs with relief. He runs up the stairs. His lean legs jump the steps easily until he stands in front of you, reaching out to get his cat from your secure hold. "Where did you find him?" He asks. His long fingers rake through the soft fur as the small animal snuggles under his jaw. You shrug. "When I got home, his bowl was empty, and he was asleep on my bed." "Of course," he hums. Lazy. When his happiness dies down, he starts to feel awkward. He is still on the fire escape with you. Even though his cat has spent most of his morning with you for at least three months now, he never talked to you more than a few sentences. His ears twitch. "Well," Ut says. "Thanks." You hum, amused. "Come over tonight," he adds. "What?" You ask, surprised. One of your eyebrows moves up. "As a thank you," he tells you, already moving to go up to his apartment. "For finding my cat." A slow smirk pulls on your lips as you watch him slowly disappear at the turn of the stairs. "Our cat," you correct him.

You hear him snarl.

#sweet asks #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #terat0philliac #goblin x human #goblin x reader

[certaincollectionlandblog]

A Disney Trip with Mick Schumacher

- I am very much convinced that Mick would greatly enjoy Disney World - He is literally a walking Disney prince - If you had ever gone to Disney before or were a Disney gal he would trust you completely with the planning - Mick's favorite park is probably Magic Kingdom or Hollywood Studios - I feel like he would get mouse ears or those baseball hats that have the Mickey ears on them heck, maybe even one of those sorcerer Mickey hats - Mick + Dole whips = a love stronger than superglue - He is constantly pulling you around wanting to show you things he sees - "Y/N did you see that little girl dressed as Elsa? I can't wait till we have some of our own" - Mick is the type of man that if he saw a mom struggling to get her stroller onto the Monarail, boat, bus, skyliner, or whatever you know he is going to help - Gets a map in every park even though you tell him he doesn't need one because you know your way around - Loves turning on the TV when y'all get back from the parks for a break or even for the night and just snuggling up with you - He gets recognized while you guys are stopped getting candy apples and you offer to take the picture - "You know that's what I love about you" "What?" "You don't care if I'm with you when fans see me because you're so caring you want them to be happy too and I know I am so lucky to have a girl with the sweetest heart" - You attempt to drink around the world at Epcot and Mick has to carry you back to by the time you reach the France pavilion - "Babe do you think I can eat four churros at once?" - Mick definitely has a mild breeding kink because after all he is a huge family man so let's just say seeing all those families around and you in your happy place he is dragging you back to the hotel many times during the trip - I need to see this man hug Donald Duck, it's a bucket list item - You would be sending his mom all the photos you guys take - He wraps his arms around during the fireworks - You make an off handed comment about wishing they had they new Figment hoodie in your size only to come back to the hotel room later that night to find it waiting for you, you know Mick had something to with it - You love going on the Peoplemover with him and just taking in tomorrowland - Mick isn't huge on PDA, but he loves holding your hand as you drag him through the crowds to get where you're going - He giggles like a kid while riding the Dinosaur ride with you in Animal Kingdom - You bend down for two seconds to tie your shoe lace and somehow he has a mickey bar in his hands already

~Instagram~

yourinstagram

liked by carlossainz55, F1wagsupdates, yourbestfriend, and 416 others

yourinstagram My favorite boy in my favorite place

*disclaimer: all photos are from Pinterest

#f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 drabble #f1 blurb #f1 #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher #Mick Schumacher imagine

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Transcending Time || CL16 {3}

Charles Leclerc x princess!reader Summary: Destined to be together, you and Charles’ love transcends time to find one another again and finally get the future you never had - the one with a happy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, angst, fluff, flashbacks, sexual themes WC: 2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

Monaco, 1661 “Dear sister, I have a gift,” Louis announced as he swept into the library, two courtiers hot on his heels. 

You accepted the box with eyes narrowed in suspicion. Louis did nothing without reason and when you opened the lid you found a glittering tiara nestled inside. “It’s exquisite,” you gushed as you lifted it out and watched how the seven peaks, each adorned with a diamond, caught the morning light. With a sigh, you placed it back in the box and pushed it away. “But I do not want it.”

“Oh heavens, why not?”

“Because it is not a gift,” you muttered as you returned to the tale of Don Quixote. “It is a conciliation after you undoubtedly bear some ill news, so save us both the energy and keep them to yourself.”

Louis tipped his head back with an irritated sigh before swiping the book from your lap. “Prince Wilheim is on his way from Marseille. You will be ready to receive him and should his matron deem you a suitable match you will be leaving with him. Is that understood?” He grabbed the tiara and pushed it roughly into your hair, the claws catching and ripping the strands painfully. “If I find this anywhere but on your head I will have the jeweller add a chain and lock to it.”

You straightened the piece so it was a little more comfortable and kept the snide remark to yourself as you marched out of the library. 

“Don’t think you can run from this,” Louis called after you. “You cannot escape your fate, little sister.”

You didn’t dare return home that night, you found shelter and warmth beneath Charles’ body. The smooth rocks were only softened by the cloak he laid down for you but you could have laid on a bed of nails so long as it was him you were laying with. 

“Is this alright, princess?” he asked again as his lips left a blazing trail across your skin until he was intimate with every scar and mark he could find.

“Yes, Charles, please, stop teasing me.”

He gave you your wish as he reached the place where need pooled and your skin turned feverish with the salacious kiss, his tongue making stars dance across your vision. You were more drunk off him than the times you had indulged in too much wine, he was intoxicating. 

“Are you sure?” he asked in a whisper as he hovered over your body, the stars decorating the skyline above. 

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life. I love you, Charles.” Pain flared as he entered you and he froze at the small whimper that escaped the lip you bit. It was already beginning to fade and you combed your fingers through his hair, tipping his head back to see he was torn between guilt and pleasure. “I’m alright. Don’t stop, please.”

He eased slowly into you and all the preparation he had done still was not enough with his size that stretched you. “I love you, princess,” he swore as your bodies became one and he let you have a moment to adjust. “I love you more than life itself.”

You gasped as you woke to the sun well above the horizon and Charles curled around your back, every inch of his body touching yours. “Shit, I’m late!” You panicked as you rushed to grab your dress and he rolled onto his back only to shoot upright with a jolt of pain. 

“Ugh,” he groaned sleepily as he grabbed the tiara, the sharp points leaving seven drops of blood welling where they had pierced his skin. “Don’t forget this dangerous weapon, princess.”

“Maybe I can stab the prince with it,” you mused as you tucked it into your hair and stole one final kiss.

You turned and his deft fingers helped to lace the back of your dress together before he rested his chin on your shoulder and asked, “Which one?”

“Hmm, both?” You sent him a playful smile and stood up, stretching your back after sleeping on the uncomfortable surface. “If the heralder makes a call to the people, don't be surprised to hear I am to be hung.”

Charles caught you around the waist before you could reach the secret door and pinned you to the wooden planks. “Don’t jest, princess. I need you alive.” He took your hand and placed it over his heart. “This beats only for you.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “And you are my reason to breathe. Will you meet me back here tonight?”

“Tonight, and every night after.”

You raced through the servants halls and barely had time to bathe and change into a fresh dress before Prince Wilheim’s entourage arrived. Despite arriving on time and taking your designated place behind Louis, your mother still looked down her nose at you. “Your tiara is crooked.”

You quickly straightened it before the doors opened and you wished you had never left Charles’ arms. This wasn’t where you belonged, with your body being bartered to a violent prince. You belonged with the man who had spent the night worshipping you.  

“Well?” your mother asked from outside your bedroom door. 

The matron sighed as she pulled the sheets back down over your legs with the knowledge that could be the death of you. “The princess is unsullied,” she lied, patting your knee softly. “But there will be no match. Prince Wilheim needs an heir and these are not child bearing hips.”

A harsh slap sounded before you could even realise why your cheek was burning and tears welled at the pain as you looked at the seething scowl on your mother’s face. You hadn’t taken two steps out of the room when she had let her displeasure be known. “Worthless, utterly worthless. What good are you to me now, daughter?”

Monaco, 2023 There had been a time when you were younger that you would have been upset with how the courtiers and assistants almost ignored your entire existence. It was only as you grew older and found the freedom that their blind eyes gave you that you truly appreciated it as a gift. It was, of course, on your mother’s orders, but for once it worked in your favour. They could not notice the peculiarities of the princess if they paid her no mind - or so she thought.

Charles had returned to the banquet hall where a commemoration dinner was being held, where your seat beside Louis had been quietly removed, and you made your way to the library. Not wanting the people’s prince to get lost, you had escorted him to the doors and left him to fend for himself from there - a promise made that you would see him again. 

After soaking your ankle in the cool water the pain had eased and there was barely a limp as you walked through the hall where you had crashed into Charles. From the corner of your eye you caught a small glint of metal and paused, scanning the floor again for it until you spotted the ring almost hidden under the narrow table topped with fresh flowers. 

Picking it up, you debated taking it back to Charles right away but then you would have been forced to remain until the meal was over. Instead you figured you could return it to him when you went to the race track in the morning and slipped it onto your finger for safe keeping.

“Your highness, it’s the princess...another episode.”

Louis was quick to place his cutlery down at the courtier’s hushed words and dabbed a napkin across his lips as he rose from the table. “Excuse me, gentlemen, please, stay as long as you wish.”

Everyone rose out of respect as the Crown Prince departed the room but only Charles’ attention lingered after having caught the worrying words. 

“I know this place is huge, but how do you get lost going to the bathroom?” Carlos teased his teammate once conversation resumed, Pierre soon joining in the antagonisation. Under the table, Charles kicked his best friend who howled with laughter until he felt dampness on his shin. 

“Bro, did you stand in the toilet?” Pierre asked as he screwed up his face and looked under the table to see Charles trousers wet at the hem.

“No, I didn’t get lost, and no, I didn’t stand in a toilet,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I bumped into the princess and we hung out for a bit.”

“And you wet yourself?”

“Fuck off,” Charles laughed as he punched Pierre in the shoulder. 

“You could hardly introduce yourself and suddenly you're hanging out?” Carlos shook his head in disbelief. “Soy estúpido, eh.”

“So what’s she like?” Pierre asked quietly. “She seemed a little uptight before she took off.”

“She’s…” Charles trailed off with a smile but it fell as there was a commotion outside the doors. The French speaking men rose to their feet as they all heard the same shouts but Charles was the first one out of the banquet hall.

The atrium was full of the palace staff, all staring up at the balcony high above. No one moved as you climbed atop the stone work and stood at the precipice, your eyes seeing a world they would never know. Your body was a puppet controlled by a memory that had been buried for centuries and all you knew was the love for the man whose ring you wore, a man you were about to see hang. 

“Charles,” you whispered as you reached for him but your fingers found nothing tangible to cling to.

Charles saw your lips move and instinctively felt the call, like a twine was tied around his heart and you had tugged it in a desperate bid to reach you. His legs were moving before he even realised it, his arms pumping hard as he climbed the stairs in a mad dash, spiralling up to the atrium floors until he found you precariously balanced over the edge. 

“Where you go, I go,” you promised the ghost of your lover. 

Charles leapt forward as your fingers relinquished their hold on the pillar and your dress began to billow as you fell. The rush of air seemed to wake you from your dreamstate and you screamed as you saw the height from which you swung. You screwed your eyes shut against the sight and focused on the hand bruising your wrists as it gripped you tightly.

“I’ve got you, princess,” Charles swore through gritted teeth as he used all his strength to pull you back to safety. 

“The ring. I saw…everything. I saw us. We were married.” You knew you weren’t making any sense but you had to say it anyway, a compulsion to confess as you were dragged unceremoniously over the rail and landed on his body. “I’m not insane, please, you have to believe me.”

He looked at your hands still clasped and noticed his ring on your finger. White light burst behind his eyes as he ran his thumb over it and he remembered the first time he placed a ring there. That ring had been beaten horribly and misshapen, but it had been all he could afford and you still accepted it proudly. 

“It could have been a shoelace,” he muttered, remembering that night in the citadel. “That’s what you said.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you saw the clarity in his green eyes. “You remember…”

His hands captured your face and dragged you down to meet his lips for the kiss he had been waiting centuries to feel again. Time had no hold on you as you returned the embrace, your body moulding into the shape of his to complete the puzzle that had always been missing a piece. 

“I remember everything.” Pulling back with pink cheeks and swollen lips, he took your hand and held it to his chest so you could feel the heavy thumps of his heart. “This only beats for you.”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula one fanfiction

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 2)

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Summary: You and Ghost argue every single day. Things aren't getting better. You're over it and wish Ghost would stop. But he makes a point to fight with you every time you're in his line of sight. Even when you try let it go, he doesn't. And you've had enough.

Chapter warnings: Cursing, VERY small mentions of consensual torture (like for one sentence).

Notes: Two chapters in one day? Maybe?? Don't expect it too often, but I'll finish this one I promise!!

Two months had passed, and the days dragged on mercilessly. The swelling in Ghost’s eye had disappeared after the first week. The depression had passed after the first month, now replaced with anger and hatred. Ghost and I had gone from awkward silence, to irritated glances, to going to extreme lengths to avoid each other, and finally, to having full blown arguments. At first, in a semi-private setting, then later, in whatever place we were in when the fight would start. Our teammates were growing concerned and annoyed with the constant tension. Multiple people had suggested we try to be civil and talk things out, and others said we needed to go to therapy. All of them, of course, never let on that they knew this was about something more than a work-related disagreement. They understood exactly why Ghost and I had been fighting.

Ghost and I, on the other hand, believed that we had done a good job at keeping our “situation” a secret.

Morning had come all too soon; I had managed to crawl into bed after another late night of anger and despair; my mind was busy reliving the moments of the argument Ghost and I had, right outside of my dorm. We had shouted like there wasn’t another soul on base, throwing insults and jabs like they were daggers – and they certainly felt like it. Ghost would typically use the “You should have known better” argument, and I took the “If you had a problem, why didn’t you say anything?” route. He called me insane. I called him a hypocrite. The same jumble of expletives until I would finally slam the door in his face and go to bed, a sobbing mess.

I had skimmed the surface of sleep until my alarm buzzed at 5 AM. I let it drone on for a while, staring out my window, watching the sun just barely breaking the surface. It was going to be a dark morning, and a cold day. Luckily, the day’s agenda for the 141 agents was mostly finishing paperwork from the last mission. I went through the motions of showering, getting dressed, putting my hair back… before I knew it, I was standing in front of my door, empty coffee cup in one hand, files and paperwork in the other, ready to start the day, At least, I looked ready. In reality, I felt like I was being held together with paperclips and thread, about to collapse at any second.

I made my way to the mess hall, claiming a seat with some of the female sergeants before heading to the line. My stomach didn’t like the look of the food, so I instead went to grab a cup of coffee. I wasn’t one for coffee, however, I needed it as a replacement for tea. Since Ghost and I had first fought, I refused to drink any sort of tea – I said it was to help me get over him, but I knew I was just being childish.

Haphazardly, I noticed that there were only two tea bags left by the brewing station. For a second, I thought I should just bite the bullet and make tea, since this would probably be all that was left until the following month. Then, a very petty idea came to mind. I casually glanced around the hall – no sign of Ghost. I raised my eyebrows, suspicious at the coincidence of it all. God, this timing is too perfect. I turned back and finished pouring cream in my coffee. Simultaneously, I snagged the teabags and shoved them in my thigh pocket, then walked back to the table like it had never happened.

When people commend me on my stealth, I can’t help but think of how I used it for dumb shit like this.

I sat down next to two of my closest friends, Skyline and Beth (not all of us chose to stick with a callsign, and Beth was one of those people). I sipped my coffee innocently.

“You’ve got a long day today.” Beth said, weighing my paperwork in her hands. “If you’d let the others get a chance at shanking the enemy, you wouldn’t have so much to report.” She plopped the paper back down with a thud.

“I already got started on it last night.” I muttered. My eyes kept flicking back to the entrance of the mess hall, waiting for Ghost. “Besides, keeps me busy.”

Beth looked at me and huffed. She followed my line of sight to the doors, then looked back at me, disappointed. “Really?”

I shrugged. “What?” I said, innocently taking another sip.

“I told you she’d do something.” Skyline piped in, unbothered as she slowly stirred her coffee. “What is it now, huh? D’you take off his door knob?”

I glanced between the two of them with an offended look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Why didn’t I ever think of that before?!

“You have got to let this go.” Beth said exasperated. “This is the most unprofessional I’ve seen you since I met you.”

That one stung. I looked at Beth, narrowing my eyes. “Are you serious- “

“It’s been over two months now. Yes, I’m serious.” Beth rubbed the bridge of her nose, and Skyline hummed in agreement. Beth continued: “You’re both acting so fucking childish. I’m surprised you even managed to get him to stoop to your level here. But it’s not just a problem for the both of you now, everyone has to deal with your shit.”

“I think your bun’s just pulled too tight.” I replied dryly. I was too busy watching Ghost walk in and place his things on the table next to Soap.

“For fuck’s sake, Bonnie – “ Beth stood up and gathered her tray. “We’re just trying to look out for you. Get your shit together.” She stormed off to find a different table, far away from me.

I watched her walk away, suddenly feeling ashamed. She was right, I was being a child. I was stooping lower than I though I ever could.

Skyline clicked her tongue. “You really should get over him.” She piped up. “It’s holding you back, you’re not focused, you look tired and worn out all the time.” She stood and picked up her tray, heading away to follow Beth. “We just don’t want to see you lose everything over some petty mistake.”

Mistake. I was tired of that word. I watched her walk away, anger bubbling in my mind. I looked back at Ghost, who was now standing by the coffee station, glancing around for the last tea bags. I sighed. Let’s get this over with.

I got up and walked over to him, fishing the tea bags from my pocket. I slapped them down on the counter in front of Ghost. “Figured you need these more than I do.”

Ghost stared at the bags for a long second, then looked sharply at me. His gaze was always intense behind the mask (right now, just the balaclava), but now more than ever, they were filled with hatred.

I shrugged. “I decided on coffee.” I answered his unspoken question.

I left Ghost at the brew station, exiting the mess hall and making quick strides towards my room. I knew the look on his face meant trouble, and I didn’t want to deal with his bullshit. For the first time in a while, I wanted the arguing and face-offs to be over. Beth’s words struck a chord with me, making me realize how much time I was wasting fighting with Ghost. Deep down, I wanted it to end, so I could go back to being the best stealth expert on the team. I had become so distracted and irritable over the past several months, and it was finally crashing down on me.

If I had felt hungry before going to the mess hall, it had faded since then. I just wanted to finish my paperwork in my dorm, go back to sleep, maybe stand in the shower and think… maybe even apologize to Beth and Skyline, telling them they were right – which would be hard. It took a lot for me to admit I was wrong, even to myself. Especially to myself.

I was angry again. I was tired of being angry. I was tired of getting frustrated, getting into fights, and crying after. I was tired of being tired. It was a workout of it’s own. But there I was, fuming again as I stormed away down the halls, muttering curses to myself.

Cutting my thoughts short, I heard Ghost’s angry voice behind me. “The fuck was that all about?” he yelled.

My eyes rolled so hard they nearly got stuck.

“Are you really going to do this over a couple of teabags??” I said, calling the fight before it had even started. “I don’t want to argue with you, Ghost. I decided not to piss you off today, that’s why I gave them back.”

“No, I’ve had enough of you and you’re selfish fucking attitude.” Ghost trailed behind me, fuming. His steps were heavier than mine and his stride slower, yet he easily kept up with my pace. “Every day it’s something new with you; some stupid fucking reason for you to piss me off, and then you go acting all innocent like nothing happened. I’m fucking tired of it.”

“Then go the fuck to bed and leave me alone.” I retorted. This was what I couldn’t understand. Why does he keep following me every day just to get mad? If he think’s I’m trying to annoy him why doesn’t he just ignore me? Why does he have to yell at me every damn day?

“Oh, real mature, real fucking mature, Bonnie. You haven’t changed one bit, you’re still a bloody prick!”

“And you’re still crawling back for more, huh?!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!! This is fucking petty, Ghost!!”

“You think I’m being petty?!” he shouted, defensively, following me around a corner. “Fuckin’ take a look at yourself, acting like a child. Can’t be a fucking adult here, you’re just going t’ walk away like nothing happened, huh? You gonna fucking run every time I try and talk to you? You know, that’s real fucking weak of you!!”

Weak. My mind snapped before I knew what was happening.

I grabbed my knife from my belt and spun a full one-eighty, flinging it as hard as I could in Ghost’s direction. It missed his face by a couple of inches before it collided with the cement wall behind him and clattered to the floor. As the clang echoed throughout the hallway, I caught Ghost holding his breath, a shocked look in his eyes. He knew how good my aim was – he had seen it countless times in combat. I never miss my mark. But this time, he wasn’t sure what I had meant to hit.

“Fuck OFF.” I emphasized the words I yelled though the glare I shot him, before finally turning away. The walls on either side of me seemed to close in, and the end of the hall stretched farther and farther away with each step I took. I knew Ghost was still frozen behind me, trying to figure out if I had meant to shank him or if I had intentionally missed him – frankly, I was just as uncertain as he was.

Finally reaching my door, I barreled through it and slammed it behind me. My head was throbbing from the emotions swimming through it. I didn’t want to cry again, I was so goddamn tired of crying. Yet the stinging threat of tears lingered in my eyes all the same. I stood there, fuming, my shoulders heaving from the breaths I sucked in, trying to wash away the red behind my eyelids. It wasn’t enough.

I ripped my shirt over my head and threw it to the ground. I kicked off my shoes, yanked down my pants, and ripped off my underwear as I stumbled to my bathroom. My head was dizzy as I frantically pulled myself into the shower, cranking it on and to the highest setting. Initially, the water hit my skin like shards of ice, making my muscles tense and shake. Slowly, it turned into a cooling rain, then a comforting shower, before it finally burned.

It felt so good. Maybe not good, but it was distracting. The water felt like a million cigarettes being put out against my skin. I remembered how Simon used to do that, once or twice, placing claims on my skin that no one else would see but us. I told him I never wanted them to fade, but they did anyways. I braced my hands against the wall in front of me and hunched my back. My muscles fought against my brain, shaking with the urge to jump back from the water, as my mind forced them to stay locked under it. My scalp screamed under the heat as small, hot streams trickled down my face. It burned. All of it burned, and it felt so good. So numbing.

Eventually, the water cooled off a bit. The base’s water heater was unable to keep up with what I needed. As the searing pain eased off, the emotions came flooding back – now, as despair and confusion. The void in my chest came back, angry and empty as ever. I had nothing to fill it with. I tried folding in on myself, crumpling to the floor, hoping to fill the gap with my own self. But it didn’t work. Nothing ever worked.

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