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ohbo-ohno · 5 months

Note

Okay but *gulp* soap with his dick slipping out and accidentally pressing into the wrong hole. Doesn’t stop him from continuing tho

listen LISTEN listen - yeah!! soap is 100% the kind of asshole to do this!!

1.7k soap x f!reader "wrong hole" drabble 🫶 (cw: pwp smut, noncon anal sex between partners (also unrealistic anal sex), pussy drunk johnny)

You arch further into Johnny, slick skin sliding along slick skin as your mouth drops open on a moan.

“Jo-Johnny,” you pant, gripping tightly to his broad shoulders. “Feels ssooo- so good.”

“Yeah?” He grunts from above you, mohawk messy and dripping sweat. “Bet it- bet it feels big, huh?”

You whine, pushing your hips closer to him as he slams home inside of you. “So big,” you agree, your mind draining from you slowly as he pulls nearly the entire way out on every thrust, leaving you almost empty before filling you to the brim. “God, you’re so good, Johnny.”

“Fuck, yes,” he pants, arms wrapping around your back and squeezing you tight to him. Your hips are pushed a little further up, a little closer to him. You wrap both your legs around his waist, hold him as tight as he does you. He only manages to keep up his rhythm through pure strength, easily able to overpower your grip.

“So good,” he mimics, eyes squeezed shut. You can’t look away from him - the sweat dripping down the side of his tanned face, the wrinkles and scars decorating his skin, the way he looks like he’s either in agony or euphoria. “Feel so perfect, so tight. Fuck, missed you so much, lass, missed your perfect cunt.”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he hits the perfect spot inside of you, body limp in his arms. You feel almost like a doll, like a toy for him to fuck, but he’s so good at it that you can’t even begin to care.

The both of you devolve into moans, occasionally trying to speak and choking on your words. You might feel embarrassed of what a mess Johnny’s made of you, if he weren’t in the same condition.

He pulls out completely on several thrusts in a row, both of you gasping at the sensation - you, because it’s a shock to go from nothing to everything completely and him, because every thrust inside of you when he’s pulled all the way out feels like the first. You dig your nails into his muscles, pushing your chest against his for all the physical contact you can manage.

It happens too quickly for you to even really notice. One second Johnny is rearranging your guts, giving you the best dick of your life, and the next you feel like you’re being torn in two.

You nearly scream, eyes flying open and nails dragging down his back, peeling skin off. Johnny’s loud groan drowns you out almost entirely, and he doesn’t seem to notice what he’s done.

You notice. Your unstretched ass feels like it’s on fire, and after your first sound of shock you can’t get enough breath in to try and say it hurts.

Johnny can’t thrust the whole way in, like he had in your pussy. Your body gives him too much resistance, which is what finally makes him realize.

You’re nearly blinded by the tears filling your eyes when he finally blinks open, staring down at you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and you can feel his heart racing against your chest. “Did I-? Am I in your-?”

“Pull out,” you gasp, tapping at his back desperately. “Oh my god, Johnny, pull out, I can’t- fuck, you’re too big.”

That’s the wrong thing to say - instead of pulling out, he groans, dropping his forehead to yours and letting his eyes fall shut again. You let out a long, high whine when his hips push forward, slowly spearing you further and further on his cock.

You’re made mute by the pain, left only with your nails as defense as you try and tear his back to shreds. You should know better, though - Johnny’s a masochist, and pain you inflict only drives him more insane.

“God, you’re fuckin’ stranglin’ me,” he pants, pulling out just enough to force himself a few inches deeper. “Thought your cunt was tight, but it’s nothin’ compared to this.”

“Johnny- please.”

“So fucking warm.” He looks nearly delirious above you, pupils blown so wide you can barely see his iris even as close as you are. “Tight.”

“Johnny,” you whine, even as the slide becomes a little bit easier from all the slick dripping from your cunt. “Hurts, please, you gotta… gotta stop.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between soothing and a snarl, a low sound that makes you instinctually arch further towards him and then yelp when that gives him more leverage.

“You’re fine,” he comforts - well, the words should be a comfort but his tone is almost dismissive. “You’re wet, I can feel it.”

“Not enough,” you cry, half choking on a sob when you feel him finally bottom out inside of you. “Ok, ok, please pull- pull out, Johnny.”

“But you feel so good,” he purrs, butting his nose against your temple. “Fuckin’ hot little ass, huh lass? You’re squeezin’ me so good, you sure you want me to pull out?”

“Yes!”

You feel the sharp smile pressed against your temple and hiccup a sob, shifting your legs so that instead of wrapping around him you’re trying to push him away. But he’s too strong for you to make him move, and he only shoves himself even further inside of you by leaning his weight forward.

“I think you’re lying,” he almost sings, grinding his hips deep inside of you. He shifts briefly, holding himself above you on one arm and sneaking the other between your bodies and down to your pussy.

You cry out when his fingers work quickly at your clit, tight fast circle that have you shaking and moaning. It’s almost enough to drown out the pain of having your back hole stretched so ruthlessly - almost.

“Here,” he says, dipping his hand down a little further to almost scoop the slick dripping from you, smearing it around your plugged hole like he’s trying to make up for the lack of lube in the first place. He pulls out about halfway, thrusting back in and moaning when you cry out. “Th-there, how’s that feel?”

“Still hurts,” you manage to get out through your sobs, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

Johnny’s panting like a dog above you as he starts to fuck you again, his pace sharper and uncaring about your sensitivity. You can’t help but clench down, your inner muscles squeezing tight in an attempt to push him out that only drags him further in.

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it - as he moans repeatedly into your ear - while he fucks you. The pain eases after a bit, your own wetness making the path at least slightly easier, but the sharp sting never fully dissipates. Your tears don’t dry up, and you’re nowhere close to the orgasm that had been building before.

Johnny’s your complete opposite - he’s lost in his own pleasure, and your desperate scratches down his back only make things better for him. If you’d thought he was euphoric before, he looks like he’s found Nirvana now. You’re not sure if he’s so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he can’t hear your pain, or if your pain is what’s driving him more and more insane with pleasure.

For your own sake, you pray it’s the first.

He doesn’t last long - thank God - and only a few minutes later his thrusts get choppier and choppier, jerking in and out of you without any rhythm at all.

“Gonna make me come, bonnie, fuck.”

You can only stare wide-eyed at the ceiling as Johnny buries his face in the crook of your neck and comes deep inside of your ass, the hot spurt of his come a distant sensation with the stretch of his cock still at the front of your mind.

“Alright, alright, pull… pull out now, Johnny, please,” you beg again, too shell-shocked to even flinch at the embarrassing crack in your voice.

He obeys wordlessly, pulling his limp cock out slowly enough to make you whine when he finally leaves you empty.

“Hush, hush,” he quiets you, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone and brushing over your spread hole with his fingers. You jolt and whine, turning to press your face into his sweat-soaked mohawk. “You’re alright, didn’t even tear.”

“You-you sure?” You sniffle.

He chuckles a little, the sound vibrating through your chests. “Yeah, you’re alright, lass. Didn’t think I would really hurt you, did’ya?”

You can only whine.

His fingers dip inside your back hole just long enough to drag out some of his come, moving up to shove it inside of your pussy.

“There ya go,” he soothes, repeating the process again and again. “Still got a nice load in your guts, you're alright." His fingers lift to your clit, rubbing in perfect circles to make you arch and gasp, squirming for more pleasure despite the growing ache in your other hole.

He brings you to a slow orgasm, one that has the last of your tears dripping down your cheeks and clinging to his shoulders like a life raft. Your breaths are uneven, heartbeat quick in your chest, and you feel fuzzy around the edges.

Unlike usual, Johnny stops at one orgasm. You almost expect him to keep going like he always does, never satisfied with less than three for you and two for him, but he pulls his hand away after your first pained whines start again.

He doesn’t get off of you, letting his weight push you deeper and deeper into the couch cushions. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close to you and breathing in his musk. It takes a while to get your breathing even again, though Johnny’s levels out in moments.

You only let your eyes close once his snores start up, loud in your ear. The rumbling of his chest is a comfort, and you float into sleep with Johnny’s sweaty body pressed firmly against every part of yours, and the ache in your ass only growing more noticeable with every breath.

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slytherizz · 5 months

Text

Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest.

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?"

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly.

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin.

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged.

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?”

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest.

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges.

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams.

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight.

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical.

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly.

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom.

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs.

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was.

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand.

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach.

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat?

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work.

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been.

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm.

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?"

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears.

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race.

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder.

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath.

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed.

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes.

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned.

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect.

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success.

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they.

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her.

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four.

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat.

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child.

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled.

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for.

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other reasons it appeals to me.”

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him.

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle.

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity.

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl.

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment.

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed.

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall.

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently.

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs.

“Sebastian - please,” she whined.

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke.

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers.

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree.

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach.

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian.

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress.

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation.

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh.

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress.

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips.

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock.

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft.

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach.

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust.

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out.

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined.

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.”

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear.

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her.

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke.

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard.

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock.

Willing it to take root.

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take.

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away.

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one.

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her.

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval.

“Care to test the theory?”

#i headcannon dadbod seb so hard #daddy!seb #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow smut

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sunkissed-zegras · 2 months

Note

🌱 can you do a little blurb about Jack Hughes asking you to move in or like mid-move cuteness? Thanks Ev! Congratulations 🩷🩷

𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐟𝐢𝐥-𝐚 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 593

♡ ─ warnings | nothing but fluff and mention moving-in stress, jack being a sweetheart!

♡ ─ ev's notes | AAAAA TYSM MY LOVE, I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!

"Babe, did you get the Celsius' from Target?" You came into you and Jack's new bedroom. He looked up from his phone and his eyes landed on you before nodding.

"If you're gonna get one, can you get me too? They're in the fridge." Jack asked with a tired smile.

This entire week had been exhausting to say the least. You and Jack had just moved in together in an condo and you were still in the process of settling down. The unpacked boxes, the furniture that needed rearranging, and the constant back-and-forth with utility services had taken a toll on both of you. Despite the exhaustion, there was a sense of excitement in the air as you both entered a new chapter of your lives, together.

You made your way to the kitchen, which was slowly but surely taking shape. Opening the fridge, you found the Celsius' neatly arranged on one of the shelves. Grabbing two, you closed the door and headed back to the bedroom where Jack was still engrossed on his phone.

"Here you go," you said, handing him one of the drinks before collapsing on the bed next to him, letting out a loud sigh.

"Thanks, baby." Jack replied as he chuckled at you, cracking open the can and taking a sip. "Moving is no joke, huh?"

You shook your head with a small but tired chuckled. "Definitely not. But hey, at least we're finally in our own place. It's starting to feel like home."

Jack nodded in agreement, his tired expression softening. "Yeah, it does. I appreciate all your help this week. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Of course," you replied, leaning in to give him a quick peck. "Teamwork makes the dream work, right?"

He smiled, appreciating the sentiment. "Absolutely."

You both sat in comfortable silence as you looked at your new messy room. There was a mix of both your stuff; Jack's hockey equipment on floor and all your clothes on the vanity, it was a perfect little mix of you two. It wasn't just a chaotic blend of belongings; it was a variety of your lives merging into one.

"Can you believe we're finally living together?" Jack mused, breaking the silence.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, smiling. "I love it. Our own little space, together."

Jack's arm wrapped around your shoulders, creating a comforting embrace as you both sat there, surrounded by the remnants of your busy week. The room may have been messy but it was a reflection of the life you were building together.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" Jack continued, his gaze wandering around the room. "I mean, we've talked about this for so long, and now it's actually happening."

You nodded, tracing patterns on his hand with your fingers. "I wouldn't want it any other way. It feels right."

He smiled, his eyes meeting yours. "Agreed. This mess is our mess, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smiled warmly up at your boyfriend as you finished your celsius, sighing. You moved to get up but Jack pulled you back into his arms. "Let's take a break for now," he suggested, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We deserve it."

You gladly settled back into Jack's embrace, feeling the warmth of his affection enveloping you. The mess around you seemed less daunting, and the exhaustion of the week faded away as you focused on the present moment.

"We doordashing again or what?" Jack mumbled as you laughed, nodding. "Cus I'm not cooking."

"Chick-fil-a again, then?"

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚#jack hughes #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #luke hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x you #nhl imagines #nhl angst #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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jock on jock violence (past steve/tommy)

“Just leave people alone, Tommy,” Harrington says lowly. Dangerously. Harrington’s always been dangerous, in the way that straight, entitled jocks have always been dangerous to Eddie, but sometimes Eddie thinks he dropped the crown to pick up a sword. There’s something sharper about him now, something that wasn’t there before Halloween. Different from the fake smiles and shifty eyes after the Byers kid went missing. Not that Eddie’s been looking.

“Leave them alone?” Hagan demands. “Like how you left me alone?” And wow, is he delusional? Did he just completely forget about his girlfriend, Hargrove, and the entire fucking basketball team?

“Not everything is about you! Seriously, man? You’re just gonna twist what I’m saying like that?” Harrington snaps, and oh, Eddie doesn’t want to be here for this. If the former king and his old lackey duke it out, he does not want to get caught in the crossfire. “Jesus, grow up. Sorry I got sick of being a total dick.”

“Oh, yeah, now you’re just sucking Byers’s—“

“You want to go there? Do you really wanna go there, Tommy?”

Shit, Eddie should not be here for this.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Hagan says, suddenly panicked.

“I thought you liked my mouth.”

Eddie has to practically stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from sputtering.

“What the fuck, man,” Hagan hisses. Eddie knows he’s looking around, even though no one’s in the bathroom except them and Eddie. And Eddie’s never going to breathe a fucking word of this to anyone, on account of not wanting his face rearranged ten times over. “What, are you some kind of fag now? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Harrington almost sounds bored when he replies. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“I told you to watch your mouth.”

“You gonna shut me up?”

“What has gotten into you?” Hagan finally asks the million dollar question. Harrington’s acting like he’s got a fucking death wish. “One minute we’re calling out Byers for being a creep, and the next you’re dumping me like it’s nothing. And now you’re suddenly best buds? Even after he stole your girlfriend twice? You know how pathetic that is, right? What, do you share her or something? The slut putting out—“

There’s a rustle of clothes, and then a thud, like something—someone getting slammed into a wall.

“Don’t talk about Nancy like that,” Harrington growls. “This isn’t about her.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, man, it’s about you being a total asshole, and I’m telling you to leave people the fuck alone.”

“Or what?” Hagan almost sounds amused, over obvious nerves. He’s not even trying to escape the hold he’s in. “I’m stronger than you, and we both know it. You’ve still got a concussion, don’t you? Hargrove told me he beat your face in.”

“Hargrove this, Hargrove that. You sound like you’ve got a crush or something. You suck him like you sucked me?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“You can’t win this fight, Steve.”

“I don’t need to. Mutually assured destruction, asshole. You stop hurting people, and I won’t tell the entire town about us.”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Harrington sounds serious. It almost makes him sick to his stomach, even as a hysterical laugh tries to bubble out. Who woulda guessed that the former king of Hawkins High had enough guts to paint himself as a queer to their conservative, stick in the mud town?

That is, if Hagan doesn’t fucking kill him first.

“You wouldn’t.” Hagan sounds panicked now, and for good fucking reason. He’s been on the “right” end of what happens to their kind of freaks for years. How quickly would the vultures turn on him? They descended on Harrington pretty damn quick.

“Wanna bet?”

“You do that, you lose everything. Peace, daddy’s money, your precious sports scholarships…”

“I’m not going to college,” Harrington says. “Look in my eyes, Hagan. Do I look like I’m bluffing? I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Eddie has to keep in a scoff at that. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that there’s always something to lose with shit like this. Namely your life.

This is fucked. This is so fucked. Eddie wants out of this stall, Jesus H. Christ. He’d take Mrs. Smith’s class anyday over knowing one wrong move will end with two jocks beating his fucking face in for hearing something he wasn’t supposed to hear. Or potentially having to jump in to try and save Harrington’s stupid fucking mug.

There’s a long pause that does absolutely nothing for Eddie’s nerves, before Hagan finally spits out, “Fine.”

“What was that?”

“Fine.”

“Good man,” Harrington says, as if they’re discussing some kind of business deal and not outing themselves in front of God and Mrs. Jenkins and everyone. “Now get the fuck outta here, Tommy.”

Rustling, quick footsteps, and then the door opens and shuts without a word.

Silence.

Eddie sighs in relief.

“Hello?” Harrington asks, voice on edge.

Shit.

His stall door swings open, and there he is, in all his fallen kingly glory. Bruise over one eye, scowl on his face, and dangerous set to his shoulders that Eddie knows all too well.

“Uhh, hi?” Eddie squeaks. He’s still sitting like fucking Gollum, feet on the toilet, unlit cigarette in hand. He drops it, and neither of them look away from each other as it rolls behind the toilet bowl.

Excellent first impression, really.

“What the fuck, man?” Harrington asks. “Were you just listening to that?”

“Look,” Eddie says quickly. “In my defense, I was here first. Also, if he saw me, Hagan was definitely going to beat me up. Except, uh, you’re definitely going to kick my ass anyway for hearing that, so I probably should just cut my losses and accept death at this point.”

Harrington doesn’t seem to know what to say to this, mouth opening and closing slowly.

“Also, for the record?” Eddie says. “I won’t say anything. I know you have, like, zero reason to trust me, but I’m really good at secrets, dude, like you wouldn’t believe. I haven’t even told Jeff that Gareth—anyways, secrets? What secrets? I didn’t hear anything. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He gets a scathing look in return. “If you tell anyone—“

“Wait, wait, wait! You said something about mutually assured destruction, right? I get it. I get it, Harrington, fuck, you know I do. Who would believe me if I blabbed, anyway? Who are they gonna believe, the King or the Freak?”

Harrington sighs, but he must see the truth in what Eddie said because he moves away from the stall. Takes a wad of paper towels and starts running them under the sink.

It emboldens Eddie enough to follow him. “I mean, really, they’d probably just call it wishful thinking or something. Plus, I’m pretty sure most of the school would rather die than talk to me, so, like, you’re safe, man. I’ve already blacked it out in my memory, it’s gone.”

It seems like Harrington has tuned him out, pressing the wet paper towels to his forehead and eye. That’s good, because Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

“Also, for the record? That was badass. I don’t think I’d have the guts to do that, even if the entire town kind of knows about me anyway. Which, wow, you were really good at hiding it. Hagan I kind of suspected, given the giant fucking boner he had for you, but you—“

“Do you ever shut up?”

Eddie’s mouth shuts with a click. Harrington sighs again and pinches his nose, looking almost like a mother trying to herd her seven rambunctious children into the minivan. His hands are shaking.

“You okay, man?” Eddie finally asks quietly.

Harrington doesn’t say anything, just presses the paper towels over both eyes, like he’s trying to stave something off. Oh, shit, is he…

“Are you…crying?”

“What? No,” Harrington says, obviously lying. “It’s the light, I get headaches. Concussion.”

“Right.”

“Look, can we just forget this ever happened?”

“Already forgotten,” he promises. “But, uh, for the record? That was really brave of you, man.”

“I wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“That actually kind of surprises me, because I could not tell from your voice. You sounded like you were ready to march up to The Post then and there and spill all Hagan’s dirty little secrets. All ‘I’ve got nothing to lose,’ and shit.” He pitches his voice lower, in a mimic of some action movie hero or something.

Harrington finally laughs, and something in Eddie thrills at it. “I pulled that outta my ass,” he admits. “I knew he would believe it, ‘cause to him I already did lose everything. My friends, my girlfriend, my…” he waves his hand around, “my status, or whatever. And a few screws, probably.”

“Well I can attest to the screws, because I think you might be actually insane. You cornered him in an empty bathroom without checking to see if it was actually empty and threatened to out him to the entire town? I thought I was going to have to save your life, Jesus shit. Don’t fucking do that, do you have a death wish or something?”

“I did check,” Harrington snaps. “I looked under the stalls, and none of the doors were locked. Who the hell sits on a toilet like that anyway? You looked like one of those ugly stone fuckers, the ones they put on buildings and shit.”

Eddie bursts out laughing, too incredulous to be offended. “You mean gargoyles?”

“Whatever. Besides, Hagan won’t kill me. He’s too much of a coward.”

“I hate to break it to you, Harrington, but cowards are dangerous too.”

“Not Tommy’s kind of coward” Harrington says. “Not to me.” He wonders about the surety in his voice. Does he think Hagan still has feelings for him? Ex-boyfriends can be the worst kind of assholes. Hell hath no fury like a man scorned. Harrington gives him a look, like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. “He’s a bully and an asshole, but he doesn’t have the guts,” he insists. “He’s no Hargrove.”

Eddie sneers. “Hargrove. The guy’s a fucking psycho.”

“Tell me about it,” Harrington says dryly. He finally looks at Eddie, eyes him up and down. Eddie could take him, honestly, he’s scrappy and Hagan wasn’t lying when he said everyone knows Harrington can’t win a fight. Pair that with the concussion he’s sporting, and it’d probably take a love tap to take him down. But he doesn’t want to.

“You’re probably better off without Hagan anyway,” he offers helpfully. It doesn’t work, just makes Harrington look like a kicked puppy, damaged and sad and cold. It makes Eddie want to take him in as one of his little lost sheep, honestly, which is an impulse he pushes far, far down. Abdicated or not, a king is no fit for a freak’s friend. Even if he and Byers have been pretty friendly.

“I know,” he says. “But he was still my friend, you know? Like, the first one I ever had. Maybe that’s why it took me so long to realize.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s an awkward silence, where Harrington turns his focus back to the mirror. Eddie clears his throat and tries to lighten the mood. “So, you and Byers…”

The look he receives could make the Demogorgon shake in his boots. “Don’t you have a class to fail or something? You should probably go to that before—”

The bell interrupts Harrington perfectly, and he snaps his mouth shut. Eddie snorts.

“Think it’s a little late for that, but I know a dismissal when I see one. See you around, Harrington.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, remember—“

“I know,” he calls behind him, striding for the door. “Mutually assured destruction!”

Leaving the bathroom feels like being reborn a whole new man. He swears the air is cleaner than it ever was before he went in. His last glance behind himself shows Harrington looking in the mirror, no sign of moving as the door shuts.

As he’s walking to his next class, he spies Wheeler and Byers huddled together, whispering. They look worried.

They both startle when he speaks. “If you’re looking for Harrington,” he says quietly, stopping next to them, “check the smoke bathroom, by the band hall. I think he’s still in there.”

Wheeler’s brows furrow, but Byers gives him a nod, already moving. Eddie moves along as Wheeler shoots him a quick look of gratitude before following, books hugged to her chest.

Eddie doesn’t know what’s going on between the three of them, but he kind of wants to now, especially considering Harrington’s non-answer when he asked. He doubts Wheeler is a cover-up, not after her and Harrington’s breakup and the quiet, lovey-dovey honeymoon phase she and Byers seem to be having. The one that kind of seems to tear Harrington to pieces sometimes, even as he sits with them and walks to class with them and even hangs out with them outside of school, if Jeff really saw the three of them at the diner together last week. Maybe Steve Harrington’s a secret masochist.

Then he remembers the bruise yellowing around his eye, the weird tension he has with the guy who beat him up last year. The way he damn near begged Hagan to beat his ass in the bathroom. Not so secret, then.

Whatever. It’s none of Eddie’s business. He’s gonna soil his reputation if he keeps focusing on Hawkins royalty like this. Never mind the way Harrington’s soiled his own reputation enough. So what if King Steve isn’t king anymore? He’s still just another pretty face.

A pretty face, with nice arms and big eyes and thighs. And he’s queer, and doesn’t seem like the kind of closeted that would have the usual jock shove him away after getting a blowie. Shit.

His lungs itch for the cigarette he never got to smoke. Too bad the bathroom is occupied.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #tommy hagan #post s2 #jock on jock violence au #stommy #onesided steddie #implied stoncy #this is the closest i ever came to finishing something if i ever write a beginning it's going on ao3 #we stay billy bashing 💪#are tommy and billy fucking? up to interpretation #i fully believe eddie would crouch on the toilet to smoke like a fucking gremlin #stranger things fanfic

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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

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M E A N D T H E D E V I L W A L K I N G S I D E B Y S I D E

Sukuna isn't the type of person to say "I love you." He's not the type of person to love. He was a demonic warlord, known for his cruelty and lack of empathy. What part of that screams "lover boy" to you?

baby, you're a haunted house

Society will tell you that playing with ouija boards is a bad idea. this fic begs to differ. a demonic Sukuna smut

close calls

Love is scary, Isn't it Reader? Sukuna thinks it is. but at least he's facing his fears for you. a soft Sukuna smut.

sacrilegious

Feeling holy? Maybe a little less than holy? Do you want to have your guts rearranged by a God in his own temple? yea, me too. a holy Sukuna smut.

unholy

Did you like the idea of the previous fic, but think you'd relate to it better if the reader was of the male variety? well, do I have news for you! A smutty Sukuna drabble

seven minuets in heaven

Maybe you're feeling something a bit more modern reader. Something more relatable? Like a college au where you lose your virginity to a frat boy named Ryomen. A modern day Smut

better off as lovers

Dating is hard and falling in love is harder. Ryomens love isn't up for debate, but if he's truly ready to give up his playboy life style for you is a little more questionable. Part two of Seven Minuets in Heaven. A smutty hurt/comfort fic

new mistakes

I would say being left at the altar was the worst thing that could have ever happened to you, but I think the revenge sex with Ryomen makes it all worth it, don't you agree Reader? A modern day revenge smut.

bad miracle

Gojo has always been an idiot, but he's really done it this time. He's kidnapped the wrong girl, and now, leader of The Syndicate Ryomen Sukuna has to figure out what to do with you.

A Mafia Au smut

heir to the throne

Sukuna never wanted to be a father. Why why hell would he want that? A sticky, stinky, ball of chaos that feels the need to destroy everything. Why would he want that? It's no surprise you hid your pregnancy from him for so long.

A Dadkuna fluffy fic

urban legends

You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? A TrueFrom!Sukuna smut.

change of plans

Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause such a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. Part of the Frat Boy AU Some introspective fluff

tiger hybrid! headcanons

We've all wondered what he would be like as a tiger hybrid, right? Right? some Smutty Headcanons

breaking up headcanons

While you would be entirely within your rights to leave Sukuna, what on earth made you think it would be that easy? some more smutty headcanons

feral nights

Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? An omegaverse Smut

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna masterlist

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mrworldwideshoulders · 10 months

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all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones.

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule.

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing?

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder.

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.”

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street.

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet.

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab?

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t.

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain.

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.”

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?”

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.”

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.”

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.”

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it.

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous.

Especially someone like you.

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night.

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk.

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again."

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?"

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks.

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab."

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work.

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t.

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?”

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.”

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?”

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.”

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though."

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp.

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home.

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.”

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.”

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management.

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room.

That’s when you see him.

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.”

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.”

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.”

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There’s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.”

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.”

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?”

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.”

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?”

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.”

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?”

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?”

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.”

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?”

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.”

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.”

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.”

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.”

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table.

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.”

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter.

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation.

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.”

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.”

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things."

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?”

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto.

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.”

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?”

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.”

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #reader x myg #mrworldwideshoulders #i hate tags lol

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 93

Part 1 Part 92

Eddie feels the hands around Will’s throat like it’s his own. Steve’s hands. Around Will’s throat. He gasps on the ground for a second as Barb and Mama Byers scrabble at him, trying to pry Steve’s hands free.

Will’s tugging at him, pulling at them both hard enough that Eddie swears he can feel his ass sliding on the tile toward him. Like he wants both of them to save him, even now, with Steve’s hands squeezing the life out of him. Steve’s pulling back, like they’re a fucked up little triangle ready to go out together.

Always, always together. If not in life, Eddie’s ready to stay by their sides in death.

“Will!” Mama Byers cries, bending one of Steve’s fingers back far enough that Eddie hears something within it popping free.

It doesn’t matter – once she lets go of the digit, it springs back, to hold on, crunching like the little bones beneath his skin are rubbing with every movement.

The sound, that terrible, horrible sound is what breaks Eddie free from his shocked huddle in the water. He sloshes upright, boots filling with heat as he lunges toward Steve, bogged down by the weight of his now-soaked clothes.

He joins the fray, yanking Steve’s hand for all he’s worth. Will’s still pulling on them both, he can feel it tugging at his sternum, pulling the strings of his heart like only the two of them can. But it’s getting weaker already. Steve’s is growing weaker right alongside it.

Like, Steve’s hands are choking the life out of Will and taking him along with it. Like, even hidden where he is, he knows he can’t live in a world where his hands have done such a terrible thing.

Eddie can’t breathe.

“Move!”

Barb jumps back without hesitation at the sound of Perkins voice booming around the small space. No one else does.

Eddie shifts his eyes toward her, wild and frenzied and they stick. She’s got fucking oven mitts on, a cute turquoise pair with lace cuffs, and she’s holding a steel pot between her palms, Like she’s making mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving and not watching her best friend choke a kid’s life right out of his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t see her move, doesn’t even comprehend what’s happened as something scalding drips onto his hands, so shockingly hot that he jumps back. He looks down at his hands, watches them turn bright red and blister.

Mama Byers is clutching her own face as Will drops, coughing into the water. She snaps out of it, reaching out with desperate, grasping hands to pull him away from where Steve stands, water sloshing as its violently displaced.

Only Barb remains unscathed.

And Steve, he writhes, wet and seizing, black bleeding into his veins.

Behind him, Perkins stands, oven-mitted hands still clutched around her now-empty pot.

Steve drops.

Water splashes around him, soaking everyone further as the water begins to creep out of the bathroom entirely, soaking into the Harrington’s pristine white carpet.

Eddie doesn’t care. He’s frozen where he stands.

Steve’s back arches macabrely, throwing his neck back far enough that his mouth is briefly submerged, bubbles coming out of his mouth in a voiceless scream.

It’s the swimming pool all over again. Steve was always going to drown, and Eddie was always going to follow right after him.

But then he seizes again, and his head’s above water.

Perkins drops the pot with a clatter, dropping to her knees to cup Steve’s face absurdly between her oven-mitted hands.

She’s muttering too quietly for Eddie to hear until he drops down beside her, holding the back of Steve’s head to stop him from going back under.

“Be okay, be okay, be okay,” Perkins mutters, less a plea and more a demand, like she can reach into Steve and rearrange his insides if need be. She’s snarling, feral and wide-eyed.

The blacks traveling up the veins in his arms, peeking out from his clothes as it moves, inexorably to coalesce in his chest. For a wretched moment, Eddie thinks this is it – the smoke will choke out his heart, and there will be no more Steve.

There’s a cry building in his throat, kept down only by the sheer force of it.

But then it continues, bubbling through his heart, and up, up, up into his throat, bulging the veins there enough that Eddie’s afraid they’ll burst.

Smoke pours out, black and choking. Eddie and Perkins stumble back, instinct taking over as Steve falls unimpeded into the bathwater with clattering splash as his head hits the running faucet on the way down.

The smoke dashes around the room looking for new bodies or an escape. Eddie doesn’t care. Because Steve’s face is submerged and he’s not getting up.

Eddie lunges, meeting Perkins and Barb halfway as they all scramble to get Steve out of the tub.

It’s an uncoordinated slide drag pull, limbs bouncing off porcelain and tile. None of it matters, though. Because Steve coughs, dispelling normal, clear water from his lungs, no black in sight.

Steve Harrington opens his beautiful, beautiful eyes. They flit around, dazed, brow wrinkled until they land on Eddie. He smiles, just a little, like a reflux to seeing Eddie’s face.

“Hi, angel,” Eddie calls, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“Ow,” Steve whispers, voice cracking from his ruined throat, but it’s all him.

Eddie laughs, just as Steve slumps into a dead faint, splashing back into the water for the umpteenth time.

Will sighs. “That’s definitely him.”

They’re all soaked and beat to hell, but this is the happiest Eddie’s ever been. He pulls Steve into his arms, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck so he can feel his puffing breaths.

Proof of life.

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary

Eddie Munson cries.

Part 94

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #will byers

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akutasoda · 4 months

Note

i loved "looks can be deceiving"! o(^o^)o if you're ok with it, would you be willing to make a pt.2 of it with bram, fyodor, nikolai and jouno? (⌒‐⌒)

looks can be deceiving part 2

synopsis - you always seemed so delicate yet you probably were stronger than them

includes - fyodor, nikolai, bram, jouno

warnings - fem!reader, fluff, slight crack, wc - 468

a/n: i absolutely can!

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

↪he did find you rather cute. it brought him a sense of relaxation when he would see you after a long day, complete opposite ends of the day but he liked it that way.

↪but he would never show how much he worried. he didn't exactly have the cleanist or safest life so by bringing your seemingly vulnerable and delicate self into it seemed wrong.

↪like you'd be caught up in his life and hurt. but he assumed that was more of a reason to cleanse the world for the both of you. but ever since he came home to you moving the furniture around with ease, it seemed you had a front of sorts.

↪you greerd him and quickly went back to finishing your rearrangement. he would be lying if he didn't say he loved it. it became another quality to you he loved.

nikolai gogol ★↷

↪he absolutely adored you, especially because he thought your delicate appearance was rather adorable. and he would make that very clear.

↪he always loved seeing you throughout the day and especially at the end when he could just relax with you after doing whatever he did.

↪but he never expected you to have such strength and he loved it! you'd picked him up as a joke and he never expected your seemingly delicate self to be able to.

↪but know you had to deal with him randomly teleporting himself to you and expecting you to carry him around.

bram stoker ★↷

↪he was indifferent. he loved you for you, even if you seemed fragile and vulnerable. but because of this he did worry that something may happen to you and he couldn't protect you.

↪ although he'd be lying if he didn't say a part of him found it rather adorable. but he was initially quite surprised at your display of strength.

↪he didn't want to burden you but he would always ask for help with more heavy duty chores, it's not that he couldn't do them entirely but your help was greatly appreciated and plus he got to spend time with you.

saigiku jouno ★↷

↪while he couldn't actually see you, he'd heard that you always seemed so delicate and vulnerable. and he was kind of fine with that. he'd prefer you be able to keep your own but he could always protect you.

↪ however he had also heard more recently that you displayed a great deal of strength when you came to the hunting dogs looking for jouno and ended up helping teruko with rather heavy duty chores.

↪he was very smug about this as he was quite proud of you that you had such a natural strength. he would later become very annoying and ask you to help him with the slightest chore

#x reader #bsd x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #bsd x female reader #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd nikolai #nikolai x reader #bsd bram #bram x reader #bsd jouno #jouno x female reader #jouno x reader

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ummmlife · 6 months

Text

Nanami Kento boyfriend headcanons ;

warnings!: (slight) mentions of nsfw.

Dating Kento is, particularly, a difficult goal to archive (ignoring the fact that he's a fictional character haha).

This man could never date someone as long as he's working as a sorcerer. Since he knows that his work could kill him *ugly sobs* , Kento couldn't commit to a person unless he's in a normal job for obvious reasons.

So now having this clear, there's some pros and cons about dating Nanami Kento.

Cons;

• He's a man... don't expect to not get disappointed at some point.

• He's a japanese man, the disappointed is bigger due to the dating culture differences.

In Japan, there's not such a things as a "situation" when it comes to relationships. So you're either single or dating... or having a fwb. That's why...

• Kento ask you out first, because it's the common thing. So he'll have you going on dates for a few days (the limit is three days, uh-huh) where he invites you on dates. When he ask you to be his partner then consider it as an official confirmation, if that never happens... well, he couldn't be inviting you on a date.

• If you want him to text you "good morning" or "good night" messages, he's not one of those who spends hours on his phone and that won't change when you start dating.

• Also, don't expect to be his priority. Kento will always prioritize his job over you, so get used to not receive any message from him in the day.

• In front of his friends, you're just another person in the room. Kento wouldn't like to make his friends uncomfortable by showing you some kind of affection, even if they don't mind at all, for him it's an act of respect.

• Kento wouldn't also like PDA, maybe holding hands and a small kiss if you want to give him one.

• Once you start dating, he'll call you just by your first name.

• Although he could pay for your things sometimes, prepare your mind for the disappointment of hearing him ask for "split the bills".

• If this man doesn't see you as a person to commit for the rest of his life then he won't put too much effort on trying to improve your relationship.

• In fact, he won't even try to get intimate unless he gets really horny.

• And even if you get to have sex together don't expect him to be that "dom daddy boyfriend who's gonna breed you". Hell nah, he won't put too much effort on it, also, he won't be willing to try new things in bed.

Pros;

• If Kento sees you as the person he will get married with, then you'll see him trying his best to make you happy.

• Kento will spend the first two months of your relationship analyzing you and the way you like to be loved.

• Pay things for you? Got it. Get texted often? Got it. Have dates every weekend? Got it. Get gifted often? Got it. See you at least 3 days a week? Got it.

• He will learn how is the dating culture in your country and try to get himself used to that for you.

• If Kento starts to talk about his emotions, desires, goal and traumas with you, let me tell you that he's 100% trusting his entire life on you.

• Kento is usually very cold at first but As the relationship progresses, his coldness melts, revealing a man who really cares about you and wants to see you happy.

• The clingiest man once he's comfortable enough around you. Head and neck kisses are his specialty.

• If he can makes you laugh, he'll have the best day.

• His pet names are pretty basic tho. Could call you by your first name + "ちゃん (chan)" or "くん (kun)" or just your first name.

• Kento would love to make love to you because that's what he's doing, make love, loving every single inch of your body until he gets tired enough to not being able to open his eyes.

• But he's also the type who gets jealous when someone is flirting with you and rearrange your organs when you're at home because: you're his and no one else's. Please don't make him mad... or do it, that's up to you and if you can handle his roughness.

• Totally down to try new things with you in bed... It will be really awkward at first... just saying.

• Will be actually depressed when he has to work overtime.

• He's totally okay with you starting to live with him.

• Won't ever let you do the house chores, not because you're his most precious treasure but because he does that better than you... Of course, he won't tell you that.

• Loves to cuddle in bed on his free days after waking up.

• If you're lucky, one day he'll let you take a bite of his sandwich, but only if you're lucky.

• Although he'll always take a bite from your sandwiches when you're distracted...

• His heart's gonna break in pieces if he sees you tired and will do anything you want or need just to make you feel good.

• Kento could also love to shower together, special when he comes back from work after a long day. Just having you there, in front of him, holding your hips and resting his chin on your head/shoulder as he tries to not fall asleep right there.

• Summer vacations to the beach are a must, and if he can takes you to another country cofcof malaysia cofcof he will.

• One day, while having a nice dinner at home that he made for you both, you're gonna start hearing Kento thanking you for all the things you've done to him, after that, he'll say for the first time "I love you" (愛してる) just to pull out a ring and propose to you.

i didn't want to make nanami look like a bastard but i also really tried to write it in a realistic way, after all he is still a japanese man <3

AN; i had this in my drafts for weeks and i never posted it omg 💀

#nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami headcanon #nanami headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk nanami headcanons #. bibi's writing

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zarasu · 1 month

Text

Romantic bingqiu with queerplatonic liushen and eventual queerplatonic bingliushen, pretend relationship

---

When Binghe is in the abyss, Lqg gets into a bit of a conundrum.

Political peak lord reasons make him have to find a partner, as quickly as possible. Seeing his friend strangely upset about him, Sqq goes to reassure him that he could get any girl he wants and gets an awkward confession instead that Lqg, in fact, isn’t interested in anyone either romantically or sexually and probably never will be. Sqq, bro that he is, makes a suggestion. They’re going to pretend to be a couple so Lqg doesn’t have to get together with anyone that would have expectations.

This goes surprisingly well. Lqg visits Sqq so often that he might as well live in the bamboo house too and no one doubts that they’re a couple. They get along well after a few initial hiccups and quickly grow very fond of each other until they’re inseparable.

After almost two years of all that, Binghe returns from the abyss and, through the power of communication and Lqg’s bluntness, makes up with Sqq and returns to Qing Jing Peak as a disciple, miraculously recovered from death.

At this point, Binghe doesn’t feel entitled to his Shizun’s love, so when he finds out that Liushen are “together”, he quietly accepts it even though his heart breaks a little.

Several months pass that look somewhat like this:

Lqg goes on hunts, brings Sqq back interesting things and is overall very content with his life. He also expects Sqq to eventually get together with the disciple he acted like a grieving widow about for so long. He’s secure enough in his relationship with Sqq to know that it won’t change that much, even when Bingqiu happens.

Sqq is ecstatic that Binghe is back and that he has somewhat forgiven him. He can’t stop touching him and making him spend time with Sqq and squeezing as much time and attention out of Binghe as he can while wondering why he still wants more. He’s also very confused as to why he keeps getting upset when Binghe talks too much to any girl or is out of his sight for more than two hours. Lastly, Binghe seems strangely down, but Sqq is sure it’s just the lingering trauma from the abyss. He also keeps the fact that his relationship with Lqg is purely queerplatonic a secret, partly because he barely even remembers these days that they’re pretending to be romantic and partly because he doesn’t want to betray Lqg’s trust.

Meanwhile, Binghe is devastated every time he sees Liushen being tender or comfortable with each other and more or less depressed the rest of the time. He looks at Sqq yearningly 16 hours a day and cries into his pillow every night. He hates Lqg with all of his soul, but can’t even find that much fault with him except that he doesn’t cook or clean for Sqq and that he doesn’t flatter and admire Sqq enough and that he isn’t jealous enough and does Sqq even feel loved???

He goes through a whole arc of cooking and cleaning for Sqq before he realises that it makes him too sad to do that when Sqq will never return his love. He also decimates three entire demon clans and the demon realm is weeping and desperately trying to find Binghe a bride so he’ll calm down.

It all comes to a head when Binghe decides he can’t take it anymore and packs his little rucksack to leave Qing Jing Peak. He only gets halfway down the mountain before Lqg catches him in the act and confronts him because: Is he going to abandon Sqq? Does he not love him after all??

Binghe tensely tells him that he doesn’t need to worry, Binghe isn’t going to try and steal him from Lqg. He was just about to leave.

Lqg replies that he better get his butt back up there and explains the situation to him.

Having his worldview rearranged, Binghe quietly goes back to the dorms and takes a few days to process the information. Lqg and Sqq are together but not romantically? Not even sexually? Binghe isn’t quite sure how someone can be with Sqq in a purely platonic way but he’s prepared to accept it. It takes him a while, but eventually, he reaches the conclusion that: if he has the chance to be with Sqq as long as he accepts that Lqg is going to be a part of their life too, he’s gonna take it.

Meanwhile, Lqg has told Sqq all of his confrontation with Binghe and Sqq is highkey panicking. What if Binghe hates him now for being gay for him? Probably gay. Admittedly, likely gay. What if he’s disgusted with him?? He wavers between going to talk to Binghe about it and avoiding him at all costs.

In the end, it’s Binghe who confronts him and they have a long talk that ends with them snogging on the floor, Binghe crying, and two emotionally constipated love confessions.

It takes some time, but the three find a way to fit together. Bingqiu are unbearable the first while and Lqg goes on many, many hunts to not hear anything he doesn’t want to hear. But, eventually, Lqg returns to being a frequent visitor and even spends the night there now and then. Binghe grows… fond… of Lqg. He supposes. At least somewhat. Lqg thinks Binghe is a little strange, but he’s Lqg’s now, so that’s alright. Sqq can be a bit strange too. Bingqiu are still unbearable, but what can you do? In the end, they’re happy in their own way, all three of them.

#svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #ace lqg #ficlet #fic idea #queerplatonic relationships #romantic bingqiu #queerplatonic liushen and bingliushen #short

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pedrithink · 1 year

Text

prenuptial (2) ✩ kylian mbappé

summary: you and kylian are getting married and the subject of the prenuptial agreement comes into play, but kylian is not so sure about this.

[part 1]

"Your mother has scheduled it for 9:30 tomorrow morning, okay?" You run your hand in a light caress over Kylian's head.

Confusion takes over Kylian's expression. "Hm? What?"

"Stop tripping and pay attention to the things I tell you." You let out a playful chuckle as you pout. "The prenup. We're signing it tomorrow."

Kylian bites his lower lip lightly and tries not to let it show, but he has so much to tell you right now. He doesn't quite know what to do and feels he needs to get it out of his head.

A warning immediately pops into his head to try to get this worry out of his mind and he mentally marks of thinking more about it and having an exact way to talk to you about everything that has been haunting his mind.

"Yeah, sure." Kylian's half-forced smile leaves you confused and you move closer to leave a light caress on his face.

"What? You've been scattered since we talked about this." Your frown frowns, you really can't understand what is going on in Kylian's head. "If it's about me being upset, relax, Kylian. I told you, it's more than fine with me."

Kylian lets out a frustrated sigh. "No, love. It's not that, it's just..." He runs his hand across his face. It's crazy how the frustration of not knowing what to say to you hits him like an avalanche. "I don't know."

"Don't dwell on it too much." You hold his hands to try to pass on a little more confidence about the situation. "It's going to be okay, it's material things and that's not important to me."

You know it's not easy for Kylian, you understand how he must be feeling and you don't blame him for having this relapse of "fear." But, nothing will be able to bring that feeling of upset upon you because of this arrangement.

For Kylian, there already comes the issue that you have shared years of your life with him and he has shared years of his life with you. You were and are present in his life every day, giving your immeasurable support and your constant consolation, always finding ways to make him feel better when he loses a game or always celebrating when he brings a world cup to his country.

It's just a form of gratitude. You deserve it too, you deserve the money that comes along with it.

"It's all right, love. Just a worry I need to put out of my mind." Kylian smiles weakly as he pulls you into a hug. "I love you. Immeasurably."

The whisper of an "I love you" that comes out of his lips makes Kylian's heart expand with so much love and you can only concentrate on hugging him tighter and tighter.

You spend the entire morning together, doing your daily chores and some leisure activities all together to try to make up for the homesickness that hits you when you go through a busy work week.

At night, Kylian takes advantage of your tiredness and takes care to go to another room when he sees that you have fallen asleep. He really feels lost and doesn't quite know how to rearrange his thoughts, so it's inevitable when he hits the button to call his mother.

"Kylian?" Fayza's voice is heard along with the sound of some voices in the background of the call. "Y a-t-il un problème?” (Is there a problem?)

Kylian frowns. "Bonjour, maman. Tu es occupée?” (Hi, mom. Are you busy?)

"Non, ce sont juste des amis d'Ethan qui sont venus aujourd'hui. (No, it's just some of Ethan's friends who came over today.)” She lets out a giggle and Kylian hears a few footsteps until they stop. “Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Tu n'es pas du genre à appeler beaucoup à cette heure-ci. Il s'est passé quelque chose?” (What's up? You're not one to call much at this hour. Did something happen?)

Kylian's thumb rests on his lips and he tries to resist the urge to bite his fingernail from so much anxiety. There are so many thoughts and feelings that he can't control himself.

"Que faites-vous quand vous avez l'impression qu'une chose est juste, mais que trop de gens vous en font douter?” (What do you do when you feel like one thing is right, but too many people make you doubt it?) He fires off the question, without even giving him a chance to assimilate.

"Hm...right." Fayza gasps, and the confusion is palpable in her voice. "Je te dirais de suivre ton cœur et ton intuition, je sais que ça fait cliché, mais ils savent déjà ce que tu veux vraiment. Tout le reste est secondaire.” (I would tell you to follow what your heart and intuition say, I know that sounds cliché, but they already know what you really want. Everything else is secondary.)

Kylian shakes his head positively and for a moment forgets that his mother cannot see him. "Mais pourquoi? Tu ne vas pas me dire ce qui te passe par la tête?” (But why? Aren't you going to tell me what's going through your mind?)

"Tu le sauras demain, maman. Merci pour le conseil.” (You'll find out tomorrow, Mom. Thanks for the advice.)

Kylian says goodbye to Fayza briefly, and in his heart it is clearly imprinted that he is going to follow the script the way he always wanted.

Soon, he goes to bed and when morning comes, he is awakened by her sudden movement around the room. When you see Kylian with his eyes ajar, you smile and approach the bed to caress his face lightly.

"Hey, love. Get up, it’s almost 9:00." Kylian purrs at the cuddling you do and tries not to fall asleep again, but suddenly he sits up in bed and leaves a light kiss on your lips, then gets up to get ready.

He wants to end this situation as soon as possible and let peace reign in his mind.

One minute he is getting ready and the next you are in front of the place to sign the whole agreement.

Kylian can't hide his anxiety and you can only get more and more confused, not knowing what to do to get any insecurity out of his head.

With his leg shaking and the pen in his hands, Kylian can't hold it in. "I don't want to do that."

You and Fayza stare at each other in confusion as Kylian drops the pen on top of the paper. "I don't want to sign that paper."

Fayza directs her gaze at him and as a mother, attends to the way he seems totally sincere about it. "What do you mean by that, Kylian?"

"Kylian stop fooling around, just sign it." You let out a nervous laugh and poke at his leg with your foot. The fear of Fayza thinking you influenced this scares you a little.

"No, I don't want to. You fought for that money too and when we get married I want you to have the peace of mind that my money is yours too." Kylian takes a stand and lays out everything that has been troubling his mind these days. "Mom, she is everything to me. When I told you that night that I was going to marry her. I meant that I want to 100% commit and share everything of myself with her. I mean it in the emotional and financial sense."

Fayza shakes her head as she faces Kylian. "I know you and my father have given everything for me, but I don't want to sign this and feel bad for not giving the trust of something I am most sure of in this world." Kylian directs his gaze to you. "I know that you and I are forever, okay? I know that. But, if something goes wrong, I want to make sure that you will have a life full of tranquility and without having to kill yourself for it."

After Kylian speaks all that has tormented him, you have your eyes watering and Fayza a little smile on her face.

"Fine by me." Fayza's reaction makes Kylian's eyes widen and you are surprised too. He thought it would be a little difficult to convince her. "I'm sure you two are forever, you're made for each other."

Kylian shakes his head positively and tries to hold back a smile, but turns to you and holds your hands. "Ky, are you sure?"

The uncertainty in your voice makes his heart hook. "That is the second most certain thing I am in life, my love."

"Second?" Confusion hits all sides of your mind and your face can't hide the expression. "What would be the first?"

"That I want to spend the rest of my life by your side."

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe fanfic #football one shot #football imagine #football x reader #football fanfic #kylian x reader #kylian imagines

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weirdworldofwinnie · 5 months

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Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Six: Lover's Games

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You feel a need to follow up with Ernest Lawrence, much to Robert's dismay, and also uncover buried information that makes you turn rather rebellious.

Word Count: ~7,592

Warnings: Martial angst, infidelity, age gap, unwanted advances, slight physical violence, period stereotypical gender roles, clothed sex, some orgasm denial and sexual humiliation

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy. It is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman, etc. from the film only while other characters are my own entirely made up ones!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86, @lacontroller1991, @kishie8, @anime-lover-forever-1127

If you'd like to be added to the list, let me know please.

June 1943

You waited a couple of weeks after the party to move past the point of just taking actual action only in consideration in the sense of springing a scheme by meeting up with Lawrence, keeping Robert under the radar all the while and he himself was certainly distant, (distracted by work of course) but also deliberately choosing to give you space. It was fine, but it made you uneasy of how much he was extracting his emotions and you were starting to feel as if you were on a carpet of thin eggshells every moment you and him were alone together, which was usually only at night sleeping in the same bed.

Weekday dinners were a polite affair as well and you mostly ate for yourself, him eating a portion of his plate before he went to shut himself in his designated office room and came to bed hours into the wee morning. He was gone longer now during the day and one early evening, you found yourself cleaning the house alone with no company or pressing responsibilities to attend to, and you went into his office, rearranging his paperwork and dusting the bookshelves when you decided to take a peek into his desk, knowing he kept many personal writings there. Perhaps a poem or musing that could give an indication of what was happening inside his brain and why you were hitting a cold patch in the marriage.

After sifting through many documents, discarded calculations, and correspondence letters, you finally found his dearest belongings buried in the bottom drawer. You knew several of these, for they were cards - birthday, anniversary, well-wishers from the wedding - and some of your own (love poems, really) that you had exchanged with him and even simple notes of wanting to meet for dinner, a party, vacation at his Perro Caliente ranch, anything that merited invitation. You grew teary at a few, oddly nostalgic even though it was only a couple of years ago. But this project had somehow changed everything out of alignment.

A thin stack of folded papers wedged in-between a Valentine's Day card from you last year and inside an envelope that had a wax heart the color of dried blood stamped on it caught your attention and you carefully peeled the corners back to extract the papers, which looked to be three separate pieces creased into halves. You took the one on top and unfolded it to reveal a letter. It had no formal or informal greeting and you blinked, reading the words in your husband's scrawling cursive handwriting. The first few lines seemed more like a diary entry than anything else until you read further...

Well, I am wearier lately than anyone could possibly guess because I have grown adept at adopting a mask of confidence and optimism. But it is a foolish man's desire to remain unchanged and hopeful in his situations that require more than words to express... I know you understand the moody tides well, my love, and I often wonder if you are feeling the bluing void edging on again as you often do, verging on the whole of complete consumption. Though it would be more appropriate to call it black as death itself; blue has been wrongly shamed in this case, although you could drown in my eyes.

Safe to say, I very much miss your presence and touch, the way you find comfort in me as if we are beyond mortal man and woman. Naturally, there are other parts of me that yearn for you as well, but I'm sure you could pinpoint exactly what. It wouldn't be proper to state it here, although I will never be sending this to you Jean. I sincerely hope you never read this because if you do, that means the war is ongoing and I have not evolved past this spout of melancholy. It is hard to determine the future when oneself is so pegged on the past and present... I feel as though I am stuck between the slides. How do I let myself be with you and yet here all at once? You feel light years away from me, though it is only a mere thousand miles, isn't it? I feel closer to the dying stars than compared to my active obligations here on Earth.

"Don't be an idiot, Robert, and alienate the few people who most understand you because one day you might need them." I can hear you say it now and I'm afraid I did exactly that to you but for reasons more monumental than myself. I thank you for being understanding over the phone, but I must remain in this slide while you are busy in your own microcosm of the world and it is easier to miss you, but I should place a bet against myself to see exactly how long this separation lasts. If you'll have me, I look forward to loving you in two or three year's time. I hope by then I do not fall out of the concept of love entirely and with an expiration date instead because that would be a tremendous dissatisfaction if you found another bull who could never match my (nor your) intellect. He would never deserve such a naughty angel as yourself and I myself won't let you linger past my mind too much longer, I promise.

Forever yours (or not, though I hope the prior),

Robert

He had added a postscript, written in original Sanskrit from The Bhagavad Gita and you squinted, seeing familiarity. You jumped up and went to the bookshelves, seeking out his copy and thumbing through the pages, finding the scripture that matched his handwriting and you recognized the passage as he had shown and translated it to you once.

And now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Why the fuck would he add that in as a PS in a pining love letter to his ex-girlfriend?

You put the book back and went to sit down on the floor beside his desk with the letter and other ones, which you dreaded opening in case they were more in the tone of lovesickness about Jean. You felt stunned and yet at the same time, unsurprised as if this was to be expected and maybe it was. It further proved that Robert hadn't completely emotionally filed Jean away as you'd thought and was planning on loving her again someday... Or he had just been really, really drunk when he composed this, but you highly doubted it.

Hands shaking, you set that letter aside gingerly as if it contained a deadly chemical and picked up a second folded piece of paper. When you opened it, you audibly gasped.

My Kitty,

I do hope you are well and pursuing a better life for yourself in the useful field of biology. Forgive me, I must be ridden with a fever, but wouldn't it be fortuitous if we perchance crossed paths in San Francisco one summer day? My flamboyant impossible imagination has flooded me again, so I'll indulge here: I'd see you out shopping and hopefully you would be with only female company (I take it your husband would be working, unless you have divorced) and we could strike up a conversation that led us to my Cadillac parked in the shadows of the shade, and I'd let you take refuge from the heat as my passenger and then I'd take your beautiful hand...

He had deeply scratched out the rest, but you could definitely make out a few lines of erotic poetry. In reaction, you bit your bottom lip so hard you nearly drew blood, and then reached for the last one, which was not a letter in the traditional sense, but more of a hastily scribbled note on an index card.

I need to see you soon. From one 'R' to another, you always have me at my truest regards.

You angrily swore aloud and started crumple this note, but paused. If you confronted him about it, this could blow up for both of you and you couldn't have that right now in the midst of life here for the project. No one was or could get divorced, that was not an option. No, you had to keep this secret and try to get back at him more stealthily. Robert clearly loved other women too much, that was it, and this was tangible of that. Enough was enough and it spurred on you to see the fellow you'd been avoiding since the party.

The next day, you went to Technical Area 1 and walked towards one of lab buildings, immediately noticed by the soldiers on guard and they came over, shaking their heads at you and your security clearance button, lower than permitted in such a site. You'd had to sweet talk your way just past the fencing to get to this point, but these particular hardened men didn't look swayable.

"I need to speak with my husband, it's urgent. Please," you begged dramatically, wringing your hands, and the men glanced at one another.

"He's preoccupied with his colleagues now, but we'll be sure to let him know about whatever it is, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

You pursed your lips, realizing they weren't going to let you just waltz into the building without an extremely good excuse, which you couldn't say.

"Fine. Good day, sirs." You walked far away from them and they went back to their business as you glanced around inconspicuously for an alternative entrance, going to another side. You found an unoccupied back door and hurried towards it, heart picking up pace.

"What are you doing?" a male voice called shrewdly from nearby behind.

"Shit," you muttered, whipping around to see a very suspicious Officer Nichols standing several feet away. Thankfully though, he was solitary.

"I'll have to report this, you know," he warned as you backed towards the shut door, forcing a big smile.

"Or what? You'll shoot me for finding my own husband?"

"Depends on the context. Dr. Oppenheimer is a very busy man and I'm sure he has much better to do with his limited time than to entertain his diligent token housewife."

You flushed angrily, feeling for the doorknob and of course it was locked.

"I swear to God I'm not doing anything else but speaking to him. I hardly know squat about quantum mechanics and the nature of his work," you lied, trying to appear absolutely innocent.

"Then what is so important you need to interrupt proceedings?" Officer Nichols asked sharply, coming closer.

"It's a highly urgent personal matter."

"I see." He paused, darting his eyes up and down the length of your body for a second before he spoke curiously.

"You haven't physically left The Hill since your arrival, is that correct?"

"Yes...?" you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

Nichols stared at you for a moment through his glasses glinting in the midday sun and you looked back, locked in a strange thirty second unnerving silence of equilibrium. Finally he moved, stepping forward and nodding.

"I'll personally make sure that you never do."

"But no, I... I was planning on going shopping for supplies with some of the ladies this weekend in Santa Fe?"

He was silent and you were surprised when he took out a ringlet of keys, going to unlock the door.

"We all must make sacrifices, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and I'm sure your husband would agree. This is your reward for the loss of such a privilege, so go now before I change my mind and report you to General Groves."

You quickly darted inside without a backward glance, heart thudding in aftermath of the interaction. Did he really mean that? Would he get in trouble if someone found out? Or more importantly, would you get in a tight spot for sneaking around?

You strode through the maze of hallways past lab rooms, offices, and the like until you heard dull voices up ahead and saw Robert's back, face to the chalkboard, through a half-cracked door. The scientists turned to stare when they heard your heels come to a halt in the doorway, looking away from their paperwork and the blackboard. The awkward silence was deafening; a pin could drop at any moment and a man coughed, just to relieve the stagnant air. The lone female physicist of the group, Dr. Lilli Hornig, gave you a curious look with a quick polite smile as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. Robert froze with a cigarette in one hand and a piece of whittled chalk in the other, his blues boring into your face out of sheer shock.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I merely need to borrow that man right there for a moment of time. It's a personal matter," you announced crisply, pointing straight at Ernest Lawrence, whose expression morphed from surprise and to utter bemusement.

"Excuse me, then," he muttered and stood up, shuffling papers self consciously before making his way to you, moving down the hallway. You randomly led him to an empty storage room and opened the door, lightly pushing him inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked empathically as you faced him in the middle of the room, steadying yourself as you looked up at him, unaccustomed to being so close to a man considerably taller and bulkier than Robert's physicalie.

"Remember a couple weeks ago in May at last month's party?" you asked briskly and his brow furrowed in realization.

"Admittedly, not as much as I should. Oppie jokingly mentioned the next day afterwards about needing to restrict the amount liquor we're consuming at the house when you're hosting because we're not frat boys," he replied with an honest shrug.

"Do you recall that kiss you gave me out of the blue?"

His face flexed, eyebrows shooting up as his mouth twitched in guilty humor and you narrowed your eyes.

"Yes, perhaps a bit of it. In my defense though, I wasn't quite all there and there was talk going around, silly talk. I was dared into doing it, actually."

Now your own eyebrows mimicked his at this confession and you stepped closer, toe-to-toe with his shoes.

"Who dared you?"

"Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Sure."

"Richard was the instigator and then the rest of the guys coaxed him on. Absolute ridiculousness we never would have done otherwise, I swear to you it's the high altitude of this place having an effect on our immature raucous behavior combined with alcohol."

"Feynman? The rascal, I could've guessed," you rolled your eyes disapprovingly and he sighed, shifting slightly on his feet.

"I really do apologize for the regrettable behavior, I sincerely promise it won't happen again," he told you seriously and you cocked your head slightly, giving him a once-over.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Lawrence immediately grew reserved and reluctant, making a grimace.

"Oh, I... I, oh no, I don't think it would be permissible to answer that."

"Go ahead. I dare you."

He swallowed nervously and came close with intimidation, making you stagger back all the way to the wall behind you, where he placed a hand up on it by your head, leaning in intimately and his warm breath tickled your cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose. But I'm happily married and certainly not looking for trouble or to wreck your own marriage. You must think I'm a very lousy friend," he admitted quietly.

"I think you underestimate me, Doctor," you whispered, nearly a purr, as you moved close and brushed his cheek with your fingers. He tried to speak, but you shushed him and gently removed his glasses, letting them dangle in your grip as you tilted into him, pressing your other hand firmly to his broad chest, squeezing the fabric of his vest.

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall outside, so you made it fast, giving Ernest a fast peck on the lips, just in time as then the door briskly yanked open and Robert poked his head in dubiously. You leaned back, still holding the glasses and Lawrence fumbled for them, accidentally interlocking fingers as your husband stared in confused disbelief.

"Y/N? What is the meaning of all this? We have work to do, why are you taking up his time?"

"Oppie, it's fine, we were just..." Ernest paused, readjusting rims of the glasses back on his face and he turned to you, a bit breathless.

"What were we talking about exactly?"

"All your great achievements, including the Nobel Prize, in contributing to the advancement of science, most notably your famous cyclotron and I was inquiring about the exact mechanics of how such a thing works. Something along the lines of high energy particles and acceleration...?"

"Right, because you were going to write to your father, who is curious about it," he caught on, proliferating this cock-and-bull conversation.

"And why do you need to interrupt our work about that? Aren't you supposed to elsewhere?" Robert asked, not hiding annoyance in plain sight. You could feel Ernest staring, gaze locked on you and your stomach butterflied, but you gave a brave face.

"You mean my womanly duties at home?" you snapped back.

"Yes, or however you may call it. Now, we need our physicist back if you'll pardon me." He beckoned Lawrence urgently and the man reluctantly pulled himself away from you, clearly ashamed and flustered. Once he was out of the room, Robert stepped inside and shut the door closed with snap. His face was taunt and irritated, fingers habitually fiddling for the ghost of a cigarette.

"What are you playing at here?" he demanded, already hurt without any explanation.

"Just a follow up to our last meeting," you said causally enough to anger him. He crossed to meet you in two strides, catching your wrist and lifting up your arm, interlacing his fingers very tightly with yours as he spoke lowly, intensively.

"What is the matter, am I not giving you enough? Do I not provide enough for you? You feel an urge to court my best man and colleague all of a sudden because you are bored of your humdrum domesticity? Is that what you love about Los Alamos, the fine selection of like-minded substitutes once you tire of me? Am I not enough?" His voice raised before he caught himself, releasing a shaky breath. He was genuinely upset and you felt rotten, but only for a second. It's not like he was clean in this either.

"Don't be ridiculous. I swear, you always assume the worst of me," you scoffed in response.

"Well, I certainly know a cheat when I see one," he said bitterly, twisting his fingers out of yours and dropping his arm.

"Yes, you would know indeed. But Jesus, Robert, he's only a friend, your friend I might add, and it was only a bit of fun, nothing serious. You said it yourself, it's good for him to loosen up. What else are parties for?"

"Right. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly it," he replied sarcastically.

"He started it, you know, after Richard dared him to kiss me apparently at the party."

"Then I'll be speaking to both of them. But you need to stop it, quit acting so childish and inappropriate over this. You're smarter than this shtick and there is too much at stake to be partaking in silly juvenile romantic games."

"You do realize I'm at least fifteen years younger than you, right? You can't expect me to be, well, whatever it is called to be at your age. Old, is it?" you mocked and normally that would've sounded very rude in any other situation, but he knew your sharp side all too well to take it too seriously, especially when delivered with a teasing smile.

"You couldn't think of a worse slander than 'old'?" he scoffed, unimpressed, and you snorted, tapping the knot of his tie affectionately.

"The point is, I am indeed younger than you."

"So? I have no issue with that and you have proved yourself very capable of co-existence so far, I think you are quite mature for your age actually, at least until now... But I don't think biological age matters in love."

"I was just over eighteen when you began courting me and you used to flirt with your few female physics students that were no older," you reminded him and he diverted his gaze, tapping his foot anxiously and he distractedly flicked out a cigarette from his pocket pack, lighting it in a second and puffing in response. You stepped back from the plume of smoke, glancing towards the window and crossing your arms. He exhaled loudly and jerked his hand to point the cigarette at you and then spoke with ultimatum.

"I don't want to see you enter this laboratory with the intention of unnecessary interruption ever again. I will tell the officers outside to stop and restrain you if you do. Hell, I'll take these matters to the General if I have to, you hear me on that?"

"I certainly do as a matter of fact and I also know for a fact that you'd be wasting his time. Petty marriage squabbles isn't a high priority or forte for a high-ranking military man like him. But as for you, well, now you know what it feels like to be jeopardized over another human being," you countered.

"My ties are very different and I would never think to do it so publicly! I am discreet about such internal, highly private business," he exclaimed, getting frustrated with this discussion and this made you laugh humorlessly.

"Bullshit and you know that. I saw you a week before our wedding walking hand in hand with Jean down Shasta Road and what about that time afterwards when our friends saw you dancing with-"

He quickly talked louder, running over your words heatedly.

"No, no, no. You are just feeding into this ridiculousness and fabricating a relationship that isn't there!"

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good lesson, or test, for you and if this is any indicator, you've been bothered. I take heart in that you must love me so that it has unnerved you to see me with another man."

"There was never any doubt that I love you. Christ, if that's what this is all about..." He sighed, rubbing his creased forehead briefly before walking backwards to the door, opening it up and you could hear the dull chatter of voices from the other room.

"Well?" you asked when he didn't do anything, just standing with hands on his hips.

"I want you to do whatever it is that pleasures you, just as long as it doesn't happen to be luring my top physicist and close friend in a back room during the middle of a workday. Have some standard decency for God's sake," he spat, the words stinging, and you crystalized, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head at the hypocrisy.

"I never noticed it until we came here, but Ruth sure has your attention, doesn't she?"

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"You heard me."

"Ruthie has nothing to do with this and how dare you drag her name through your muddled mood today."

"Ruthie?" You rolled your eyes at clear affection underlying his tone.

"Listen to yourself Robert, you have feelings for her, you've always been close."

"She's a very dear friend, one of the few people I can truly confide in and share my emotions with, nothing more," he insisted.

"Am I part of that select number of confidants?"

"Of, of course. Has our entire marriage been for naught? I cannot believe your attitude over this, it's deplorable."

"It must be very nice to be you, Robert. No one here in Los Alamos casts open judgement upon you," you commented bitterly and he cringed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back at you.

"Not yet, anyway," he answered with a tone of cryptic ominousness and you only frowned, shoving past him to exit the building.

A full twenty four hours passed without further incident until you haphazardly ran into Feynman on the street, just the man you were looking for.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?" He stopped and gave you a familiar cocky smile which dropped at the narrowed eyes and serious expression you were giving him.

"Oh, is this about the party? I didn't think he'd even do it, I apologize for our frivolousness that night. Clearly very unacceptable." He cleared his throat awkwardly and you leaned close, speaking in a low murmur.

"Do me a favor?"

"Uh, sure...?"

"I have an assignment for you: Find me a single man - preferably scientist - in this town, anyone remotely attractive will do, but no close friends or direct colleagues of Robert's, it has to be at least second or third tier from his inner circle and single - I'm not crossing into some other woman's territory - and arrange me a date with him in secret. Think of it as an experimental equation: One attempted devoted wife plus one all-but-labeled womanizer husband plus unsuspecting stag. It's time to give someone a taste of his own sweet and sour medicine."

"Oh, you feel like causing a scandal, do you? It won't take a mathematician to see what it'll will add up to." He chuckled in disbelief but then dropped his voice, casting wary glances around at passing residents, or civilians, as everyone who was non-military were officially called.

"Are you quite sure about this?"

"If I let my conscience speak, then no. But if I let every other fiber of my being, then yes. Will you do it?"

"I... I can't, no, this is beneath us," he protested, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

"It's one event at a casual party, it's quite another outside... Well, you know. Real tampering with people's lives has consequences and I'm not sure I'm the man for this job, I think if maybe, it-"

"I'll pay you," you interrupted quickly and he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"How much?" he whispered curiously.

"Twenty?"

"Make it 100 and you've got yourself a deal. I'll do it and you can pay me later at your convenience. Now excuse me, but I have some business elsewhere."

He hurried off and there was no further word until one early morning you came into the kitchen as Robert was dressing his toast and brewing coffee, and you were surprised to see a bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the table. Naturally, you looked to him as his habit of flower gifting was infamous, but he was staring just as confounded as you were. He seemed positively rattled, in fact.

"Did you...?" he asked and you echoed that same question.

"Did you?"

"No, I haven't been flower picking as of late," he replied dryly with a taut closed smile and then it dawned on you. Could it be from the mystery date you'd sent Feynman to set up?

"I'll put them in the living room, shall I? They'll get the strong afternoon light that will illuminate their velvety rouge petals," you expressed and he nodded emotionlessly, turning back to the toast and grabbing the pot of coffee.

Once you were alone in the lounge, you carefully inspected the flowers; they were beautiful and fairly fresh, only one or two were curling at the tips from the heat and as you held it up to admire, there was a small square piece of paper taped on the bottom of the skinny glass vase: It was a thin note, reading of a scrambled code of some sorts. You smirked, knowing it had to be Feynman who did this; he was always writing letters in code to his ailing sweetheart stuck in Albuquerque.

"Y/N, have you seen my badge? It's gone missing!" Robert called anxiously from the kitchen and you quickly tore the note off the bottom and tucked it into your pajamas.

"You probably left it on the dresser," you called back to him absentmindedly.

Once he left for the day, you sat down and worked to crack the code, which wasn't terribly hard considering it was predictable; boiling down to an address, date and time. You'd hoped for a name of the mystery gentleman, but didn't seem to get one.

That evening, you dressed in one of your finest silk dresses, red in color as the roses, and made your way to the bachelor's dormitory on the other side of town. You technically weren't allowed to be transversing around here, especially at this hour, and you cringed at a couple of catcalling whistles from young drunken men loitering outside. You ignored them, hurrying up the stairs to the mystery man's dorm and knocked once. The door opened, almost cautiously, and a decent looking young man stood there, his short brunette hair combed back and he wore a well pressed suit but with a blue tie slightly out of alignment.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted in a pleasant voice and you automatically blushed, staring into his eyes which were a very watered-down literation of Robert's own blues; if his were the ocean, this man's were a lake on a grey skied afternoon and it made you feel a tad sad about doing this. Of course no man's eyes could ever quite compare.

"Hello...?" you trailed off, needing a name to this blind date of yours.

"My name is Anthony, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

"Pleasure to meet you and please, that makes me sound old and tethered. Just call me Y/N."

He nodded, stepping aside and you went inside, closing the door behind you as you surveyed the somewhat neat living quarters consisting of basic furniture and scattered paperwork and magazines.

"I apologize if this is rather awkward, but I take it Richard gave you the details?"

"More or less," Anthony answered and the way he was ogling at you wasn't so much like piece of meat, but out of respect and disbelief that he had actually had a date with the wife of the top dog scientific director of Los Alamos.

"Would you care for a drink? I just have, uh, scotch if that's alright. Probably different from what you're used to," he murmured the last part and you assured him quickly it was alright.

"Yes I would, thank you."

He handed a half filled glass to you gently and you noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be nervous, I'm really not all that remarkable. I may have my husband's name, but I'm certainly not him, you know. We all bask in the long reaching shade of Oppie, don't we?"

"Right, of course," he chuckled, offering you a seat on the sofa and taking a sip of his own, regarding you impressively.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" you asked tenderly and he shrugged, still rather timid.

"I was dating a girl back in college but we broke off right before I signed onto the project."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," he answered.

"Good, not younger than me; I suppose we are perhaps compatible then in that respect. You don't need to hear my life story, but I was a year in studying medicine at Stanford until this and now I suppose I'm just another housewife at the moment." You sighed, taking a small sip and nodding at him pleasantly.

"So what do you do here, generally? I take it you aren't one of the boys in Oppie's so-called cult?"

"No, I'm an engineer actually. I work in one of the labs, hands on, none of that theoretical bunch."

You nodded approvingly and there was a lapse of silence until he gestured with his glass, sloshing the liquid slightly.

"So I take it you're quite unhappy with... with Dr. Oppenheimer if you wanted to meet with another man?" he asked cautiously, disguising excitement.

"No questions, if you don't mind. I'm not here to talk about him," you replied seriously and he nodded fervently, setting the drink down on the side table.

"Yes, right. I apologize. I guess that doesn't leave much formalities then." He paused, swiping his tongue across his lips.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's not rushing too much," he proposed politely, but with a tone of urgency.

"Go right ahead." You braced as he leaned in, inches from your lips and you shared air for a second before he plunged forward, groping your mouth fast and lightly. But it felt all so wrong. You lightly pulled back, his hands not even holding your face like Robert always did so there wasn't much real intimacy, and glanced to the floor self consciously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you murmured guiltily. Maybe it wasn't even your conscience; maybe he just wasn't the right guy.

"But I thought you wanted it...?" Anthony's brows furrowed in hurt confusion and offense, so you quickly backpedaled.

"Not here, we can't do anything here. How about... Do you want to come over to my home?" you blurted out abruptly and he swallowed.

"But is-isn't your husband home?"

"That's the point."

Gathering courage for the both of you, Anthony then stood and took your hand to walk you to the door, leading you out down to the street level and the two of you walked all the way to Bathtub Row together. You could tell he was in awe of these homes that were larger and much better constructed.

"So this is how the other side lives." Anthony gave a low whistle and you laughed, bumping his side gently.

"Don't worry. We use the same water, electricity, and plumbing as you do, it's just a little more glamorous and I promise you anyone living in Los Alamos to work on the project is not substandard or lower class, even if the military may be rather degrading at times. It's all just a socially constructed hierarchy."

He squeezed your waist affectionately and you led him to the house, telling him to wait by the shrubs as you walked around to peer into the windows to see if Robert was still up, which you'd be surprised if he wasn't, and indeed he was: reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and puffing on his pipe.

You signaled to Anthony to come closer and he crossed the yard to stand by the side of the house, appearing wary. He mouthed 'do you see him?' and you nodded, turning your back to the window and beckoned to him to move close. He carefully did so until he was a few inches from your face and you swallowed at the intimacy, the daring nerve to kiss a man right in front of the windowpanes where your husband sat in the living room.

"Kiss me, but passionately this time, no holding back. Just pretend it's only the two of us, okay?" you whispered and he breathed in, parting lips.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered and you giggled lightly, straddling his body and cupping the back of his neck, hairs bristling your fingers.

"Only if you want it to be, but no telling anyone when you wake up, understand?"

"No one would believe me... I feel as though I'm about to commit a great sin against the Oppenheimer unity, I can't believe I'm going to do this," he admitted with a dark chuckle.

"I can," you breathed and before you knew it, his lips connected to yours and the kiss was actually amazingly passionate indeed for two people who just personally met tonight. You breathed in his musky scent and intertwined tongues, smooshing noses and you felt him push you up against the window, arms embracing you whole and you secretly hoped it would eventually catch Robert's attention. Your intention was just one full kiss, but now this man had you, he seemed reluctant to let go as you began to lean back from his mouth, head lightly conking against the window. Anthony groped your breasts hungrily and you felt his hard-on pressing against your thigh as your bodies rubbed, the kissing becoming sloppier and for a moment, you completely forgot what you'd done this for. A faint yell came from somewhere and Anthony grew more attached, tightening his grasp on your frame, kissing harder and you started to feel a slight wetness in your panties.

"Stop! Get off of her! Please, that's my wife!" Robert's voice called in audible distress and you realized this must look a lot worse than it was, and you had to admit this man was getting a bit rougher as his more primal desire came to fruition and you grunted, turning your head and trying to wriggle out from underneath his locking embrace.

"That's enough, enough," you murmured anxiously, but he wasn't stopping.

"You said this could be my dream, can't ya let me finish first?" Anthony growled in your ear, but you were done, having successfully alarmed your husband. This wasn't meant to go further and quite frankly, you were unnerved how quickly it had escalated. He wasn't quite the shy gentleman scientist anymore once he was aroused, but you supposed these types of adventures did bring out the animalistic behavior in most after all.

Simple souls, Robert had said once of human beings.

Unfortunately, he was now witness to such a 'simple man' about to take you right on the windows of his stone and log cabin style house.

"STOP THAT NOW!" Robert yelled off to the right and you felt Anthony being forcefully tugged away, his arm flailing out and trying to grasp, catching your hair and you winced as he accidentally yanked painfully.

You were suddenly released and you gasped, sidestepping and watching in shock as Robert tried to jump on the man, his belt removed from his waist and gripped tightly in his hands as he wrestled it aggressively around Anthony's neck, constricting with enough force to make him gag and choke.

"Robert, no!" you shouted, rushing forward and attempting to pull him away, but it was as if he were deaf to the wind.

"I demand you to LEAVE my property at once and to NEVER see my wife, or this won't end on civilized terms," he threatened loudly and you'd never seen such a fire in his piercing eyes before. It intrigued and frightened you, considering he was not a brute in any sense. Anthony pleaded through his choking, whimpering pathetically, until Robert finally backed off, snapping the belt and huffing.

The other man stumbled up to his feet and held up his hands in surrender as Robert squinted in the dark, trying to fully identify him.

"I'm terribly apologetic Dr. Oppenheimer, sir, I won't bother you or the Mrs. anymore, I'll be right on my way!"

Anthony ran like a bat out of hell from the property and once it was silent, Robert turned to you with heavy breaths, the belt hanging limply at his side. You took one look and then rushed inside in the house, kicking off your heels in the hallway and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door, heart pounding a sprint.

Moments later, you heard his clodding footsteps and anxious voice calling out desperately, the door bursting open.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he gasped as you shrunk away from him, still feeling Anthony's hands all over you and the whole guilt imploded, resulting in a sudden overflow of tears.

"Fuck, Robert! It's all my fault, I told Richard Feynman to set us up and I told Anthony to come here as a show to make you jealous and it advanced, I promise he meant no harm, we just wanted-"

"You did this on purpose?" he interrupted, betrayal lighting his features and you wiped messily at the tears streaming down your own.

"Yes! I kissed him on purpose! I wanted to spite you, I'm sorry but I cannot handle this anymore! I wanted to hurt and infuriate you like you do to me with your blatant love of other women! I bribed Richard $100 for a date with a single scientist, I didn't know what I'd get, but I'm glad you saw us together, it is only fair when I have to read love letters to past girlfriends... or are they just current 'friends'?!"

His mouth gaped and the frown lines appeared, creasing his forehead in prudent anger.

"The audacity... I suppose I indeed underestimated you, my sweet Aphrodite," he said lowly, voice a low rumble and despite everything you actually felt a shiver of arousal in your core.

In two strides, he met you at the foot of the bed, grabbing your head in a vice and in a bizarrely dominant twist, pinned you down to the bed, trapping you underneath him and yet you saw the uncertainty flicker. He was pretending to be so dominant, but couldn't take the reins fully.

Oh, Oppie.

"Roll over," you ordered sharply and he did, collapsing onto his back as you unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down hastily, staring at his cock straining against his boxers. You placed your palm on it, teasing him and he moaned softly, shaking his head at the deviousness on your face.

"No, please. Please, let me out, please don't do this, please..."

Begging. He was actually begging. After he just had attacked a man outside and was reeling from your confession, he was here at an embarrassingly burgeoning erection.

"I'm so close that I don't need you inside me, but I think you need a bit more help, is that right?" you whispered condescendingly and he gulped, eyes wide dilated marbles.

"I'm sorry about all of it, I never meant t-to-" he sputtered off as you clapped a hand to his mouth and you straddled his body, legs quivering with anticipation.

His penis grew harder and a clear wet stain bled through the fabric, causing him to squirm underneath you and you smiled, bumping up and grinding against clothed erection. You yelped at the sudden rush of internal pleasure and his hands gripped your dress at the hips, gasping along with your heaves and whines, but he himself was yet to peak. He seemed mortified as you then sat back and placed firm hands down on his crotch, holding his bulge tightly. He groaned, mortified as you wouldn't let him go, and after stretching him out to his limits for too long, a single squeeze brought him to a full climax, absolutely soaking his boxers and he threw his head back on the pillow, reveling in the orgasm.

Panting, you climbed off him and he weakly sat up, holding out a hand with the other on his wet crotch in sheer humiliation. You left the bed, gathering your appearance and catching breath.

"No, don't... Don't leave," he requested desperately from his spot on the bed and you shook your head, tousling hair as you glanced over at him.

"Clean up your own mess, darling," you told him firmly, a metaphor as much as a literal one.

He sighed, swinging legs off the bed and hobbling off to the bathroom as you began to undress, slipping out of the dress and into a bedtime robe.

He came back in, clean but utterly naked, and his dick was still dripping a smidge at the tip.

"You very much ruined a good pair of my underwear," he complained and you merely shrugged, patting the bed as you crawled in and he joined, scooting under the sheets and pulling you close, resting his forehead at yours, speaking in a mutter.

"You just had to stoop low with that male 'catch' of yours, didn't you?"

"That's not very nice, darling. Anthony seemed like a nice man and he's an engineer, I'll have you know."

"He isn't a third of the man I am."

"No one is you, Robert. That's why I went to another man in the first place."

"I truly wanted to suffocate the life out of him, I would have maimed him quite seriously had I lacked control. I haven't thought of doing such a terrible action since my Cambridge episodes, my terrible fits of jealousy... I suppose I expressed protection over you," he mused grimly.

"It's the thought that counts," you commented darkly.

"I can be so impulsive and erratic... You and everyone knows quite well how I was going to poison my tutor; I had injected potassium cyanide in the body of that innocent apple and left it on his desk..."

You remembered it had been Jean who had offhandedly first mentioned this story to you and she had assured you it was only because he was going through a very difficult phase in his life and actually all he needed to feel fulfilled was to just "get laid" as she aptly put it. Funnily enough, 'getting laid' was the least of Robert's problems now.

He took your hand at the moment and grasped too hard, squeezing your fingers, leaning towards you anxiously and speaking urgently.

"Listen, and I mean this very much: Don't ever see another man, I don't think I can do this again without gravely spraining my heart."

"And your enormous ego," you added the obvious with a small smile and he returned it, also giving you a light kiss on the cheek and cuddling in close.

"I love you," he offered gently and you shot him a glance, unable to hide the blushing smirk.

"Touché."

163 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 5 days

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it.

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep.

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me.

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand.

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky.

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs.

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done.

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard.

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more.

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon.

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated.

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.”

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about.

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it.

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile.

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me.

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start Pulling all the stops out On the down low, secretly But I think you knew your psychology Was working on me Infatuated And doing this all wrong You've got My number and my name And you've got me going Yeah, you've got me going Can I see you every day? Do you love me Like I love you? Ah, you've got me going Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me.

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand.

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me?

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays.

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick.

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him.

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings.

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal.

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway.

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him.

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before.

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv.

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which.

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down.

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.”

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she��d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...”

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks.

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?”

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind.

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.”

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

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