#but having to pretend like it’s all fine and i’m not falling apart every second i’m so tired

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 3

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1426

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

JAKE POV - (One Year Ago)

He can’t stop watching you. Smiling, laughing, serving customers caffeinated beverages on their way to work. The sunlight streams through the front glass window of the cafe, the rays illuminating everything of you that they reach. Your hair, your eyes, your skin. You’re bright, happy, healthy, stunning, and it does unreasonable things to his heart.

He’s been sitting there for two hours now, not even pretending to occupy himself with a magazine or newspaper or anything that will make him less conspicuous. You’re the only thing that has his attention. The only thing that ever has his attention when he comes to this world. He spends this time, each second of it, observing your every move, memorizing every feature of your face, and when you leave for the day, he follows. Just so he can be a little bit closer to you.

You’ve never noticed him, and sometimes he chuckles at your lack of awareness and how well it works in his favor. You have no idea that he trails you from the cafe to your apartment. You have no idea that he stands outside your building as night cloaks the day. You have no idea that he leans against the same lamppost he always does when he comes to see you, his stare latched on to your window—third floor, second from the left—as you strip yourself of your uniform and into your pajamas. He’d watch forever if he could, but he, and those like him, do not have that luxury. 

The hand that lands on Jake’s shoulder is expected and he turns his head to his friend. 

“Time to go,” Javy says. “In a month you can come back and stalk her some more, but we’re cutting it close. We have to get back.”

Jake sighs, giving your bedroom window another glance. The light clicks off. “I know.”

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ve kept an eye on her in your absence and she’s had the same routine for the last six months,” Javy reminds him as he rolls his shoulders, preparing for the weight of his wings to return. 

Cartilage and bone materialize as his gray feathers, one by one, seek him out from the spot he had shed them. Each one returns to their place, layering themselves together until his wings are fully reformed. 

Javy gives them a testing flap, scattering the fallen leaves at their feet. When he sees Jake has yet to call for his own wings, he huffs. “Seriously, it’s eleven fifty-six. Do you really want to spend six months in The Tower because you chose to stare at your little girlfriend rather than be punctual…again? You literally just got out.”

Jake stands from his leaned position and a moment later his black feathers find him. He spreads his wings out in a stretch. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Javy says with pride. “So let’s go.” Then he’s shooting up into the night, a speck in the darkened sky. 

Jake takes one last look at your window, imagining himself in that apartment, holding you, kissing you, falling asleep beside you. He doesn’t want to leave you behind. Leaving you behind is leaving a part of his heart behind. But he has to do it. For the night, you’re warm and safe tucked in your bed, and that will have to be enough for him until his return next month.

“Good night, Angel,” he mutters. “Sleep well.” Then he follows after his friend.

—

Food everywhere. Grapes smashed in between the stones of the walls; plums dotting the floor, one having rolled under the bed; juice from apple slices staining the rumpled bedsheets; the silver tray, now dented in the middle, thrown across the room. All as if some bratty tornado tore through the place. Except now the brat is missing. 

He’d guessed you would struggle to stay put once you regained enough of your energy, which is exactly why he'd planned to sit by your bed while you slept. But—albeit very reluctantly—he had listened to Javy’s advice about giving you some space for the night. A mistake, clearly, because now he has to hunt his little escapee down.

Shaking his head, Jake rubs the back of his neck and gives the room one last scan in case you got the bright idea to hide until he got close enough for you to whack him in the skull with something hard. When the assault doesn’t come, he jogs to the window and peers through it the way you were when he found you standing there the other day, your pearly wings in all their grandness cascading gracefully from your back. 

Glancing to the nearby field many stories below, he spots you seated in the grass with your knees tucked to your chest. His pounding heart stutters in relief.

How the fuck did you get out, Angel? he thinks as he hurries from the room, down the multiple twisting staircases, and through the maze of halls. You’re the last person who should have the ability to leave this place. New residents of The Tower have been known to roam the halls for months at a time, trying to find a way out until they surrender to exhaustion and return to their rooms, and yet you walked right out the front door?

When he reaches the main floor, he stops short at the silhouetted figure leaning against the doorframe. He knows that figure well, and realizing that someone he trusts has been keeping an eye on you from a reasonable distance permits Jake to take a calming breath before he steps closer. 

“She’s…content, I think,” Javy says, tucking back his large gray wings to provide enough space for Jake to comfortably stand beside him. “Doesn’t seem to want to run off.”

“Only because she doesn’t know where to go,” Jake sighs, running his fingers through his hair. And thank fuck for that. “How long has she been out here?”

“At least since four. That's when I found her,” Javy informs him. He looks at Jake, playfully grinning. “We watched the sunrise together.”

“Has she seen you?”

“No. She hasn’t so much as turned her head in hours,” he answers, then after a pause of consideration, says, “How do you think she managed to make it out on her first try?”

Jake shakes his head. He has that very same question. Anyone would. “I don’t know, but had I known she could, I would have locked the damn door.”

“Maybe The Tower felt bad for her,” Javy suggests. “You know she always made it easy for the unfairly imprisoned.”

Unfairly imprisoned. Yes, Jake supposes that is what you are. But it’s not for forever, and it’s simply to protect you while you adjust to your new life by his side. Surely, you can understand that. And then you can start accepting the happiness and love you’re denying yourself. 

“She fucking scared me,” Jake says, and Javy snickers.

“Then I imagine you're even.”

“She's not scared of me, she just has to get used to me.” Jake watches the gust of air flutter your feathers. You still haven’t moved, save for one hand's fingers which continuously weave through the blades of grass. “She's taking her damn time though.”

“Don't be unfair. She's known you for a couple of weeks—a couple of very difficult weeks—which is nothing compared to the head start you had.” Also true, to Jake’s dislike. But he’s shown you how much he cares, and that should be plenty to help you catch up. Then Javy says, “You should take her back. Just for a few hours.”

Jake’s head snaps to the right, eyes just short of bugging from his head. “Are you insane?”

Javy shrugs. “The day is coming up. It might be easier for her to be here with you if she knows she has the option to visit her world.”   

“That’s not her world anymore.” 

“True,” Javy agrees. “But don't you miss seeing her smile?”

Jake swallows. He’d give anything to see you smile again; smile at him again. Though he was gifted one when he was deep inside of you, praising you, telling you how beautiful you were, offering the same compliment since he brought you here has not elicited the same reaction. If anything, you frown more intensely, with more effort. 

“It's too soon,” Jake says. “She's still attached, and I can't trust her.”

“It's more important that she trusts you,” Javy counters. “And this could be your olive branch, my friend.”

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @fandom-life-12 @hookslove1592 @buckysteveloki-me

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #demon!jake seresin #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Two

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: cuss words and recreational cliff diving

Notes: The moment you’ve been waiting for! Just don’t kill me pls🫣 sorry this one is short, but the next chapter is twice as long so buckle up lol

Word Count: 1290

Series Masterlist

Reader

Quil has been… tricky since I found out about the wolves. Now I know why his best friends have ditched him and I can’t even tell him.

How would I even phrase it?

Hey man, so you know how your best buds kinda cut all their hair off, got insanely ripped, tattooed these tribal pieces on their arms, and seclude themselves? Well, they’re actually these supernatural protectors of the reservation and turn into huge fucking wolves.

Yeah that’d go over real well. Not to mention said wolves would rip me a fucking new one. I mean, they protect humans, but is the line drawn at exposure? Would they even vote or would Sam just slam his own gavel? Make a spectacle in front of the tribe? What would they even tell my mom?

I can’t help the direction of my thoughts, desperation for my friend - to cure the source of his pain, gnaws at me from the inside.

So I unintentionally start hanging out with him less. Not completely - no, my heart would never allow it, but less. Less means I can stop pretending so much - I lie to my mom and I live with her. I lie to Bella because two friends falling apart in the same way helps no one. I lie to Quil so the wolves can continue to exist without a spotlight. I lie to Embry and say I’m fine so he can have someone to not be fine with. More often than not it feels like the smile on my face and the words in my mouth are just lies, lies, lies.

So I have to do less. Because less is how I stay afloat.

Less is what I wish I’d feel.

•March 16th, 2006 • Quileute Indian Reservation•

Reader

“Are you sure about this?” The roaring of the water below almost drowns me out, but Bella’s shoulder is brushing mine and I can tell she heard my question in the way her own shoulders sink as we stare down at the turning water.

“Look, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m going to, just thought I’d offer an out.” I’m not even looking at her and I can feel the tension leak away from her.

“You’ve always been down for some crazy stuff.” She tells me, stepping away to shed her backpack, bracelets, shoes and anything else she doesn’t want to get wet.

“Believe me, I fucking know.” I whisper to myself.

Are we really about to jump from a cliff just to feel something?

I’ll do anything to feel something besides this gaping hole in my chest and apparently that starts with cliff jumping.

I turn to check on her and catch her mumbling something under her breath before she steps off and disappears from view.

I copy her actions and shed myself of my extra clothing items until I’m in just my jeans and t-shirt. A thundering rumble from deep in the trees pulls my attention for half a second from the dark water below as I wait for Bella’s head to surface. A storm, maybe? Has to be-but the snapping of twigs, that’s something inside the forest.

The wolves? We picked a day they were occupied, they’ve been chasing Victoria ever since Laraunt showed up and Bella explained to Jacob what they were after - us. And Charlie, along with some trigger-happy townspeople, have been hunting the wolves.

Which leaves us free to do things like this, stupid shit without the overbearing men in our lives watching our every move.

I take a step forward into nothing before whatever that is makes an appearance and stops us.

Time might as well be standing still.

I mean, I feel the rumple of my shirt across my stomach as I fall, but the way my heart is in my throat and my lungs squeeze-

Ice. The water is pure ice.

I’m stunned at the brutality of the water, not only in temperature, but also in the way it ebbs and rolls. I’m not entirely sure which way is up, but I catch a glimpse of a jean-clad leg drifting away into the darkness - Bella! I’m too slow, the water is zapping my warmth and my strength with it.

Lungs screaming at me to give up, a tan blur of muscles dives right past me at an incredible pace. A few seconds later, another tan and muscled arm wraps around my torso and our rapid ascent to the surface begins.

My last thought - the last image in my brain before darkness drowns me out is Bella, dragged completely limp by Jacob.

• March 16th, 2005 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

A choking gasp so loud it startles everyone lounging in the house-horror, disbelief, terror courses through my sister in the fraction of a second.

The next fraction I’m at her side.

“Alice-Alice!” I grip the tops of her arms as I stare into her eyes, begging her to answer me immediately, “What is it?”

Her eyes are flicking around, far away from here and searching-panic begins overtaking her and I can do nothing to stop its rampant escalation. My power retaliates, I try to grasp her slippery hysteria but it’s like smoke - filling the room rapidly, choking me, but I’m unable to grasp it-to tame it. There’s only three people not in this room that would elicit such reaction and one is immortal-

“Bella and-” but she cuts herself off before she could finish as she meets my eyes.

“Bella. And. What. Alice?” My tone is deadly and the words are clipped - I already know the answer, but it can’t be.

Instead of answering me, she spins from my grip.

“Carlisle! I need keys!” I follow her as she grabs everything she needs for a day trip, apparently.

“Alice answer me, what’s going on?” I’m desperate at this point for any information.

“I’m driving to Forks.” Her words are stern, mind set. “I have to check on them, I can’t see-”

“You can’t see them?”

“They jumped off a fucking cliff and I can’t see them!” Her breath is tearing in and out as she spins to look at me, panic and inadequacy pinging off of her.

They… jumped off a cliff?

For the first time in a very long time, I can’t breathe.

“My-my girl j-jumped?” The small voice passing through my lips doesn’t sound like me.

“I need to check on them-”

“I’m coming.” The heart in my chest has long since ceased to work, but now it feels as though it’s turning rotten and black.

“If you can’t handle it-” She starts, but I stop her again.

“If she’s gone, nothing matters anymore.”

• March 16th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

I rinsed off in the shower after Embry dropped me off, not much energy left to fully shower. Thank whatever other-worldly force looking out for me that he didn’t take me to the hospital so my mom could get involved. The woman would hover no doubt non-stop and then proceed to give me the lecture of the century, something I don’t have the capacity for at the moment.

Plopping down onto the sofa, I settle back into the soft cushions, my body absolutely tired.

Hurried knocking on the front door not-so-softly wakes me up, I must’ve drifted off after laying down.

“Embry, I’m fine - you didn’t need to check on me-”

But as the door swings open it isn’t Embry.

Panting like he had just run a marathon, hair slightly wet and eyes wide with panic, stood someone I thought I’d never see again.

Someone I thought had to be a figment of my imagination.

Jasper?

Next

Teaser

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#redamancy series #bless-my-demons #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale #twilight #female reader insert

[arealphrooblem]

A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find Part 3

Synopsis: Ben has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job

CW: blood mention, wound care

Part one here:

Ben’s job offered him a transfer  to another bank in the city but he declined. Despite jumping every time the automatic doors opened, he figured lightning wouldn’t strike twice and Adam’s team wouldn’t target this bank a second time.

The next couple of weeks were almost unbearable.

That next morning Adam returned Ben’s phone with all the nonchalance as if he just merely updated it. Ben snooped around a bit but couldn’t see anything new in his apps. Of course, he wasn’t a programmer like Adam was. God only knew what spy-ware Adam put on his phone and he had no hope of getting rid of it.

To Adam’s credit, he tried valiantly to act as if nothing happened.  He did dishes without complaint, always cleaned the bathroom to spotless perfection when it was his turn, sat in the living room with one of their favorite shows on or Mario Kart to tempt Ben into the living room.

But Ben did not know how to act. It wasn’t even that Adam had gotten himself involved with bad people who robbed banks and shot guns at innocent bank tellers like Ben. It was that Adam would threaten to kill him at a moment’s notice. That Adam felt comfortable and skilled with a knife at someone’s throat.

It felt like living with Jekyll and Hyde and he didn’t know when Other Adam, Knife Happy Adam, would leap out again. So Ben played the Normal Game for as long as he could stand it, which was approximately the length of dinner and maybe one youtube video before he disappeared back into his bedroom. Sometimes Adam would try to coax him out again with temptations such as running down the street for ice cream or renting a movie that just came to streaming, all things Ben would have loved to do Before and now which he declined.

Eventually Adam stopped asking. Eventually they both played the We Pretend We Don’t Have a Roommate Game. Adam disappeared from the living room, coming home late at night or sometimes into the next afternoon.

Ben avoided the news as much as possible because he didn’t want to know but he couldn’t help overhear what coworkers and customers talked about: bombed warehouses and robberies and a body or two in the streets.

Each time he heard something the guilt and fear of his secret burned up his throat like acid. It felt like it was stamped on his forehead, that anyone looking under the shaggy bangs he needed to trim would see it, spelled out to the world.

A month of this passed in slow agony. Ben missed the Before so much he dreamed about it, about the whole thing being some elaborate joke or nightmare and  he could return to a life where his biggest problem was hiding his stupid gay crush on his roommate.

A month passed and then Adam didn’t come home for two days. Ben paced the living room for two nights, gnawing his nails down to stubs and wondering if he should put in a missing person’s report or if that would just make the whole situation worse.

And then Adam stumbled in at 1 in the morning, covered in blood.

“Holy shit,” Ben yelped.

Adam looked like a zombie extra in a movie, shuffling on wounded leg, blood splattered down his neck. It’d almost be funny if it wasn’t so heart-sickeningly real.

“I’m   — I’m fine,” he mumbled, staggering to the shower.

Fine? Fine? Ben stood right in front of the shower door as the water ran, listening for the tell tale thump of a body falling. He didn’t hear that, but he did hear several pained grunts and hissed curses.   

Did he need the hospital? Would he even let Ben take him to the hospital? Oh god, what if he died in the apartment? How the fuck was Ben supposed to explain that? How was he supposed to live with himself, ignoring his best friend the last month of his life instead of trying to — to —

The water shut off and the door wrenched open, steam billowing around Adam wrapped in a towel. The blood was gone save for scrapes and cuts that still wept.

“We still have that first aid kit, right?” he asked.

Like he scraped his knee playing basketball at the park.

“Yeah,” Ben said faintly.  

“Cool.” He waited a moment and then cocked an eyebrow. “Are you . . .going to move? It fucking hurts to stand right now.”

That kick-started the panicked fog in his brain.

“Sorry! Shit. Okay. Just sit on the couch and I’ll get the — the —“

He didn’t bother finishing, zipping out to the kitchen, where he kept the kit stashed above the fridge. Thank God he kept it stocked, knowing how often he nicked himself cutting vegetables. Not that the stuff in here would help much if Adam needed stitches.

Adam leaned back on the couch, chest shuddering with his breathing, his mouth pinched in a tight, painful line. Ben perched himself on the edge of the coffee table and plucked out the pain killers first out of the kit. Adam dry swallowed them before Ben could offer water.

“Go to bed,” Adam said tersely. “You don’t need to see this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Ben. “You’re hurt really bad. Maybe we should go to the —“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare even suggest that.”

“What if you die?”

Adam snorted. “I’m not going to die. Just get me a warm wet washcloth and pass me the antibiotic cream.”

Happy to have something small and manageable to do, Ben immediately complied. He picked the softest, most worn out washcloth they had and soaked it in warm water. When he returned, Adam was already dabbing at a scrap on his knee with rubbing alcohol and hissing. He took the proffered washcloth with barely a glance at Ben, using it to rub away the excess blood that had started to leak from a gash on his side.

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“You don’t want to know. I just . . .wasn’t fast enough this time.”

“This time?”

Adam gave him a flat look, as if to say Quit asking, I’m not telling you shit.

“You don’t have to stay up, Ben. Really. I can take care of this. I’ve done it many times before.”

That’s not reassuring Ben thought. It was heartbreaking.

“I can help,” he said.

“I don’t want you to help.”

“Too bad.”

Feeling daring, he took a cotton ball and smeared the cream on it before dabbing it onto a scrape on the back of Adam’s forearm. To his surprise, Adam allowed it, propping his arm on his knee and watching been with those keen eyes.

This was not the time to pop a timid, curious boner but dear Jesus.

Whatever Adam had been doing the last several months had whittled his body away into a lean, muscular machine, so much of it on display dressed in just a towel. He had to lean in , smelling Adam’s body wash and the sharp scene of the alcohol, getting close enough to see the light constellation of scars on Adam’s chest and arms.

It all felt strangely intimate, the only light coming from the dim glow of the living room lamp. Their breathing the only sound in the room.

Once he was done with the arm, he taped gauze to it and wrapped it. Adam held perfectly still, his gaze a heavy weight that Ben could not hold. When Ben finished and started to pull (reluctantly) away, Adam’s hand darted out and gripped his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Ben chanced a glance at Adam and flinched at the intensity he saw.  

 “Don’t,” he said, swallowing. He took the hope in his chest and crushed it. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for. You just . . . want to manipulate me into liking you again.”

“I know what I did. It was wrong. You didn’t deserve it.”

“And yet you still did it. You didn’t even think first.”

“I was afraid.”

Now Ben gave him a flat stare of disbelief. “You? Afraid of me?”

The fucking audacity when Adam put a knife to his throat.

“You were never supposed to find out. I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t know how to react.”

“You have a plan for everything.”

“I never know what I’m doing when it comes to you,” Adam said softly.

Ben froze, his mind drawing  conclusions he didn’t dare to dwell on. “What does that mean?”

Adam went silent. The bright intensity of his emotions shuttered off in his eyes,  like a shade being drawn.  

“I was bluffing,” he said, voice calm and even. “I don’t need a knife to hurt you. But the threat should have been a last resort and I’m sorry. It was a knee jerk reaction and you didn’t deserve it. You’ve been nothing but a loyal friend and good roommate.”

Disappointment — stupid disappointment that came from a hope he should have never fostered, not even for a second — tugged down like a lead balloon in his chest.

“Good roommates are hard to find,” he added softly.

Adam’s mouth curled up in a wistful smile. “Exactly.”

Ben tried to pull his hand away again, but Adam didn’t let go.

“Ben,” he said softly, squeezing Ben’s wrist until he looked up. “It will never happen again, okay? You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

“Okay,” Ben said, nodding.

Later that night, as he tumbled into bed sometime past two in the morning, he could hear Adam’s voice echoing in his head.

I don’t need a knife to hurt you

God, how true that was, in ways Adam would never know.

Taglist: @itsmyworld23

Part 4 Here

#a good roommate is hard to find #my writing #hero x villain #villain x civilian #original work #writeblr #enemies to lovers

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 8: Anything? Anything...

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

You and Steven spend a weekend together doing exactly what you'd expect.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 5k

Steven was up before you, face beaming at the memories of your evening together. Once he was done caring for you, afterall he was the one who tore you open, the two of you curled up together on the couch with a bad movie. After you’d fallen asleep on him, he carried you all the way to the bed, somehow managing to keep you asleep, placing you down gently before crawling under the covers next to you.

Wanting to surprise you, he didn’t even know if you liked pancakes, but he was making them anyway. That’s when he felt Marc again, just seconds before seeing his reflection in a pot that hung from a hook above the stove. Marc was glaring at him in the warped silver while Steven continued ignoring his existence.

“You happy now, Steven? You ruined this poor girl’s life. It’s going to be even harder for her to move on when you break up with her.” He said, his Chicago accent becoming more apparent the more aggravated he became.

Steven hummed a nonexistent tune while gathering ingredients for the pancakes, pretending he didn’t hear Marc. He had no intention of ever breaking things off with you. As long as you two kept things quiet, Steven saw no reason to, until you graduated and it went public.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to respond. I know you can hear me.” Steven caught Marc looking back at him in the mirror on the fridge when he went over to grab the almond milk. “At least if you did it before you slept with her it would’ve been less messy. When she wakes up, you need to tell her to leave.”

“Not gonna happen, mate.”

You stirred, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath you. You stretched your arm out and noticed the distinct lack of Steven on your right. He’d fallen asleep with you…where was he now? His voice rang through the apartment,speaking in a hushed but angry tone. You furrowed your brow, wondering who he could be talking to. You’d never heard him sound so upset. You cautiously stood and made your way to the kitchen.

“I’m not going to say it again, it’s my life, you stay out of–”

“Steven?” 

“Love! Hi! G’mornin’!”

He hadn’t heard you walk up, and wondered immediately how long you’d been standing there. What was he going to tell you? He couldn’t tell you about Marc’s condition, he planned never to tell you about it. Steven wasn’t one for lying, but as long as they kept their promise, there was no reason for him to tell you about them.

He was standing there shirtless with a whisk in his hand and you couldn’t keep your eyes off his broad chest. It was only 8:30am and you already felt yourself getting excited. It was like Steven had cast a spell on you, one that made you nearly forget everything you knew every time you saw him. You shook the thoughts from your mind, remembering that you’d just heard him talking to himself in the kitchen.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Oh, erm, that was my…” Steven racked his brain to figure out what to say, “my brother.”

“You have a brother?” You shuffled along the hardwood floor to seat yourself at the kitchen table.

Steven shrugged and nodded a quick mhmm

He walked over and kissed your forehead, placing a hot cup of coffee in front of you. When you sipped it, you were reminded of just how thoughtful he was. He remembered how you liked it from the coffee shop and had clearly tried to replicate it. It wasn’t exact, you were sure Steven was missing an ingredient or two, but it was clear that he made an effort.

“Thank you so much, that was really thoughtful of you.” You said, taking another sip.

“Of course, love.” He went back to the pancakes.

“Didn’t know you had a brother. Are you two arguing?”

“I’ve got two lousy brothers and…we don’t always see eye to eye.” Steven glared at his reflection in the hanging pot while he flipped a pancake. “Don’t really like talking about them love, I’d rather talk about you.” He turned to you, “how are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m feeling alright, still sore but, heh, I’ll get over it. Um…is it weird that I’m already excited about the next time? Even though it hurts?” Your eyes were trained on your coffee, avoiding Steven’s unnerving gaze.

He couldn’t believe his ears. Excited for the next time? You wanted more? As though you willed it with your mind, he felt a nagging arousal start to threaten the seam of his sweats. Steven was slack jawed when he shook his head in response to your innocent question. You looked back up at him through your lashes. His cheeks were turning a shade of crimson while he stammered over his words.

“N-no love, s’not weird at all. We can…we can go again any time you like.”

“Steven, the pancakes!” You shouted suddenly, noticing smoke billowing up out of the pan.

“Oh bollocks!”

He grabbed the pan and brought it to the sink, running the cold water immediately to stop the smoke from filling the flat. You giggled behind him, and despite ruining breakfast, it was like sweet music to Steven’s ears. He turned to face you with a smile. He always felt like his brain didn’t work quite right with you around. It was like you quite literally forced it to short circuit whenever you came into view.

“I didn’t mean to distract you,” you sipped your cup. “Would it be alright if I used your shower? I don’t want to impose, but I don’t think it's safe to leave yet. That way you can finish the pancakes without my interference.” You chuckled again.

Steven looked outside to see how the storm was faring and saw that you were right, you shouldn’t leave yet. The snow was still coming down, lesser than before, but the roads were probably still impossible to trek through, and he didn’t feel safe to drive.

“‘Course you can. Here, let me get you a towel. Oh! And the hot water is a little finicky, best to  show you how it works.” He walked into the bathroom and you followed.

While he started messing with the tap, you started taking off his shirt that you still had on after bed. Steven got the water running and then turned around to face you. Once again you managed to steal his breath. You pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it on the ground before squeezing your arms around yourself, shivering in the chilly air.

Steven tried…so damn hard to look at you with all the respect he could muster, but your nipples were hard enough to slice through glass. He took a step toward you, mouth hanging open once again, eyes unmoving from your breasts.

“Steven, you’ve got drool running down your-” He swooped in, latching his mouth over your left nipple, sucking it inward. “Oh!” You gasped, feeling his teeth brush over the sensitive flesh.

He traced a hand down your waist, grazing it over your abdomen, before finally tucking under your panties and landing on your still sensitive cunt. He didn’t try for more than a single finger, probing at your entrance gently. You winced, shying away from him with a hiss. His hands retreated to your hips. Steven looked at you, lips slick and glistening, eyes hooded with desire. He broke sight of you for only a second, looking behind himself at the running shower and then back at you.

“Come on, I’ve got a thought that might help,” He held out a hand to you, “come get in the tub.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion but complied anyway. You pulled off our underwear and when you looked back up, Steven was smiling, eyes tracing over your body like a horny teenager while he guided you into the tub. Once you were in, Steven raced to remove his own pants and boxer-briefs, and you didn’t miss the stain of precum that had formed in the crotch. He felt a little foolish, being so eager to be close to you again so soon, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he woke. Not to mention you asking him if it was normal to be craving sex again so soon, how was he supposed to keep himself in check?

You weren’t sure what Steven had planned, but you were a little surprised when he stepped into the shower with you, still bearing that look of arousal over his face. You stepped back, letting him in to stand under the showerhead. He was so hard already, you were staring before you knew you were staring. You still couldn’t believe you’d had something so big inside of you; that you’d been able to withstand that sort of physical pain. Regardless, you were desperate to have it again.

The water ran down over Steven, and he couldn’t stand to just look at you anymore. He cupped the back of your neck and brought you in for a flurry of passionate and sloppy kisses, Steven’s specialty. You moaned into him, feeling the eager press of his erection against your lower abdomen. If there was one thing you could say you loved about Steven, it was how needy he always seemed for you. He was always looking at you with a hungry gaze, always kissing you like his life depended on it.

“Wha-mm–what was your idea?” You asked in between kisses.

“Oh, heh, right…” Steven pulled back from you, and turned to take the showerhead down.

You hadn’t spent much time looking at Steven’s backside, and were impressed to see that in addition to his other beautiful features, his bum didn’t disappoint either. He often hid it underneath ill fitting jeans and jackets that hung down a little too long for you to get a good peek. You watched unashamedly as he turned toward you once again.

“How’s the temperature?” He asked, aiming the hot water over your shoulders.

“It’s good…what did you-oh…”

You were rendered silent as he moved the showerhead down your torso and over your mound. You held onto his biceps for stability while he found your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips. He flicked the knob on the side, changing the setting to a stronger stream. You squeezed his arms tightly.

“S-Stevennnn…” you moaned out the end of his name.

“Is it good? D’you like it?” He asked, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek, “hoping it will help soothe you a little, get you ready f’me again.”

“Y-yeah, yes.” You threw your head back, and of course Steven took that as an invitation to press his lips to the soft skin of your neck.

“Good, that’s good,” he murmured between open mouth kisses to your skin.

You had one hand on his waist now for support, reveling in the way his muscles felt rippling below the surface, and the other was on his arm still. You churned your hips over the stream of water that shot constantly over your clit, grabbing Steven by the cheeks and bringing his face back up to yours.

You were in such a pleasure drunken state that your eyes were only half open. Steven didn’t realize that his were the same, but none of that mattered when he leaned in to steal your sharp breath some more. That’s when you decided that eternity could go by and you’d never get tired of kissing Steven.

“You gonna come for me like this, darling? Like you did last night? You looked so pretty,” he spoke to you breathlessly before diving in for more passionate kisses.

You managed to moan an affirmative.

Somehow, this timid history professor knew his way around a clit and a showerhead. He started moving it around at different angles, teasing your bundle of nerves like he had a sixth sense for where it was located. A small gasp escaped you every time the stream hit a new spot.

“Steven I’m…mmm” You couldn’t even speak, his lips were glued to yours.

In only a few moments, your body gave in to the assault. You were grabbing onto him as though he was your anchor to your body, breathing deeply into every kiss he gave you. He was hungry now, desperate to feel you. He knew you were probably still lost to the euphoria, and thought this was a good time to bury himself inside you.

Steven scrambled to put the showerhead back quickly, and despite the impending pain you knew you were about to endure, you were excited. He turned back around and grabbed both of your asscheeks and lifted you like you weighed nothing, pressing you against the cool tile wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck quickly before you fell over. He lined up his cock with your entrance, but couldn’t get it in easily while holding you up at his angle.

“Please love, please put it in. Please hurry,” He was practically begging, as though you would refuse him.

You held onto his neck with one hand, and used the other to wrap around his cock. Steven shuddered at your touch. You lined the head up with your entrance, you were so slick from your orgasm that it took almost no work at all to get him inside of you. The stretch of him still hurt, but the pain wasn’t nearly as dreadful as the night before. You were glad he got you off first, it definitely helped.

Steven held onto you tight with a bruising grip over your rear. He was obsessed with the way you felt wrapped around him. You were so tight he could feel every small flutter of your walls over him.

“Still so tight love, so–bloody–tight.” Steven sounded so rough the way he was grunting with every thrust.

“All for you Steven, I’d do anything for you.” You felt foolish saying such words, but you meant them.

“Oh, anything?” he leaned back and looked at you, never slowing his pace.

“Anything.” 

You took to mouthing at his neck for a change, kissing the rough stubble at the base of his chin.

“I’ll have to think of somethin’.” He sounded amused, “but f’now, gonna need you to come again for me, want to feel you darling.”

You were still in pain feeling the tight stretch of Steven’s cock resizing you to fit his girth with every thrust; you were just realizing now how big he was. The head of his cock was pushing deep into you, so much that you felt a delicious ache in your lower abdomen. At this angle, he was brushing against your cervix on every pass.

“Want you to fuck me harder, please?” You asked, probably too politely for the activity at hand.

“Think you can handle it, dove?” He was already slowly starting to ramp up his pace.

“Yes, Steven, please!” You groaned against his neck.

He adjusted his arm to hold you up with one hand. You were still amazed at his strength. He used the other hand to brace himself against the wall while he slammed his hips even harder into you. You let out a whining cry, but Steven didn’t slow his assault on your tender hole.

“Fuck love, sorry, sorry, I know it hurts I can’t-can’t stop, feels so good.” 

“It’s okay! It’s more than–oh shit.”

You were both a mess of groans and heavy breaths while he fucked you open against the shower wall. The sound of your wet skin slapping against each other was nearly deafening. Steven knocked several bottles over in his desperation to give you what you’d asked for.

“Love, I’m right there I–“

Steven’s harsh motion came to a screeching halt. You were at the end with him, feeling your cunt gushing over him in waves while he pumped you full of him. The pulsating throb of his cock stretched you out further, but it didn’t stop the pleasured moans from leaving your lips.

“Fuck, Steven…” you struggled to hold on to him, arms growing weak as you came back to reality, struggling to keep your head up. 

He looked at you with a lusty haze over his eyes. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, you became entranced by the water falling down Steven’s shoulders and over his chest. Your eyes stayed connected, and for a moment you felt an overwhelming sense of belonging; like he was the only thing in the world that you needed to feel whole.

“Steven,” You started, feeling breathless with emotion. He was so handsome you could hardly stand it. “Steven I…I…”

“What is it, love?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. I love you, you thought. It was such a simple set of words that when combined, summed up your feelings perfectly. You couldn’t say it though, it was too soon, too much.

“I…feel better now, thank you.”

Steven kissed you again with a dopey smile before pulling out gingerly, and quickly rinsed himself off. Reaching for one of the shampoo bottles that knocked over from before, he began lathering it into his hair and you quickly followed suit. You already wasted enough water.  When he was finished rinsing, he kissed your forehead and stepped out.

“Gonna go make the pancakes properly this time, they should be ready when you get out.”

You heard his bare feet pad over the linoleum floor as he exited the bathroom, going to dress himself in fresh sweats. He took one look in the mirror and immediately realized he wasn’t alone. A dark furrowed brow was staring back.

“Oh, piss off,” he muttered, going back to the kitchen.

When you were finished in the shower, you realized that you still only had your dirty clothes to change back into, and after last night, your panties were pretty well spent.

“Steven!” You called, walking out into the apartment from the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your torso.

“Yes, love?” He called from the kitchen.

“Um, I just realized that I don’t have any clean clothes so…maybe I should go home or something? Looks like the plow came through while we were in the shower.” You walked over to the window, looking down at the street below.

Steven practically ran to you, eyes wide and full of concern.

“You want to leave?” His eyebrows were turned up and knitted together. “Thought we might watch a movie or somethin’. You can wear a pair of my joggers, and a clean shirt, I don’t mind. Unless you don’t want to…I’m not going to force you to stay.”

Steven was, by every definition of the word, adorable when he got desperate. You liked that he was the kind of guy that wore his emotions on his sleeve. You thought surely he’d be ready to have his apartment back to himself since he’d kept you away from it all that time. You weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to spend the night with him though, not if he was offering.

“Okay,” you smiled while nodding, “yes, I’ll stay.”

“You know you don’t even have to wear any bottoms if you don’t want to.” 

You started to laugh but quickly noticed Steven was dead serious.

He swallowed, eyes scanning over your body. It was like you’d taken down the dam holding Steven together. You nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” You said breathlessly.

That’s what landed you on Steven’s couch a couple hours later with a belly full of pancakes, another bad movie playing, and the feeling of the soft rise and fall of his chest against your back. Despite the movie being cheesy, you were actually enjoying it.

Steven could tell you were into the film, just based on the way your eyes were staring, fixated, blinking fewer times than normal. He felt like his heart might burst from his chest with how warm he felt in that moment, his affection for you growing. You were curled up so small against him while he was rubbing his hand idly over your arm.

He felt bad for the growing erection slowly working its way against your rear. He tried to hide it, but it was unmissable, prodding against you. Trying to move was a mistake, just the mild friction alone forced a breathy moan from his lips. Steven tried to adjust himself, muttering a small, sorry, in the process.

Now that he’d had you not once, but twice, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Steven liked to pride himself as a man who appreciated more about a person than just the physical, and while that was true, he wanted you again and desperately.

“Just gonna– sorry, just–”

You felt him tug his pants down around his thighs. Steven lifted you easily, before starting to lower you over his thick cock. You were so wet, some of it from earlier and some of it from just his proximity to you, despite trying your best to focus on the movie. You’d made it so convenient for him to just set you down on top of it, like putting on a well-fitted glove.

“Steven I’m–oh.” He spread you open over him once again, and you felt your hole ache. “I’m trying to…trying to watch–”

“I know love, you don’t have to do anything just…oh shit just…sit there like that f’me. Just watch your film.” His voice was already low and whiny with his arousal.

Steven had one arm wrapped around your waist, and the other was gripping the underside of your thigh, lifting you ever so slightly so he could fuck into you from below. He rutted upward, hitting you deep in your core. You reached one hand up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, your other hand rested on his forearm near your leg. His lips left a biting kiss on your shoulder.

“If we’re gonna, ahh, do this,” you couldn’t help but whine, “Can I at least pause?” You asked, quickly realizing that you weren’t paying attention to the movie whatsoever.

Steven had the remote on his left, which he fumbled with to quickly turn off the tv. His movements were clumsy as usual, turning all his attention on fucking you in his lap while covering your neck in lazy, sloppy kisses. Now that the distraction was removed, he was huffing harshly into you, putting more effort in his thrusts to have you bouncing on him.

“Sorry love, sorry I know you’re sore I just–”

“It’s fine Steven, it’s…mmfeels good,” you whined, dragging your nails over his scalp.

Steven groaned, the mixed sensations making his cock twitch inside of you. He opened his eyes and looked ahead, marveling at the way you looked in the reflection of the tv. Your head had fallen back onto his shoulder, bottom lip pressed under your teeth while you were moaning; you looked completely fucked out in his lap. His gaze caught something that distracted him, forcing him to slow his movements slightly. Something was off about his reflection…

Jake…for a split second, the other alter was looking back at Steven with a mischievous smirk that only Jake would hold. You tugged Steven’s hair, knocking him out of the trance he was in. When he blinked and looked back in the tv reflection, Jake was gone and it was just you and Steven.

“Oh!” You exclaimed when Steven grabbed your waist tightly and lifted you, pushing you over the arm of the couch.

“Just getting a good look love, just wanna see you.”

He wasn’t totally lying, he did want to have a good look at the way your puffy pussy swallowed his cock over and over while he fucked you for the third time in the last twenty-four hours. He also didn’t want to imagine Jake inside of you; the thought made his stomach drop into his gut. Looking down at you made him forget all about it quickly, seeing your back splayed out in front of him as your shirt rode up. With one hand on your ass he thrust into you, hearing a sharp whine accompany his movements.

“Love those little sounds you make f’me dove, think you can be a little louder?” Steven grabbed your hip tightly, moving faster, smacking his hips against your rear.

“Can’t believe how good you always feel Steven, fuck!”

He wondered how much pain you were in, your poor body under his constant attention. He looked down again, seeing how your pussy was gripping him. It was a bit swollen, probably a little sore, but you didn’t seem to want him to stop. In fact, you were moving your hips in perfect rhythm with his now. Steven even stopped moving for a moment to let you set the pace, watching you fuck yourself.

“That’s it…ohhh…you’re doing so good, keep moving like that.”

Steven’s words of encouragement are what made you start moving faster. You felt excited by the prospect that you were giving Steven something in return now. He was so quick to love you selflessly that you wondered when he would let you take care of him. 

“Hope you’re ready, love, gonna fill you up again, I can’t hold it back now…” Steven started churning his hips against you again, grinding into you on every hard thrust.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, him letting you be in control but you’d enjoyed it while it lasted. His movements got faster and harder, to a point that you slid forward and lay almost completely flat against the arm of the couch. The apartment was quickly filled with your growing cries while your orgasm approached, his hand reaching around you to pass over your clit a few times.

A hundred years could go by and Steven would never get tired of hearing the way you came undone while he fucked you. He moved faster, hips crashing into yours harder, until finally he stopped, cock throbbing into you and shooting hot ropes to fill you with. You grabbed onto the cushions of the couch desperately while your own orgasm washed over you, cunt gushing over his girth while your brain whited out.

In a heap of sweaty skin and heavy breaths, you and Steven just stayed there for a moment, feeling yourselves come back to reality one pant at a time. He pulled out of you and stared wide-eyed as his cum dribbled out onto the couch.

“I’m sorry! Shit,” cursing, you tried to catch what you could with your hand.

“Don’t be sorry, love…looks so nice, you look so…” Steven’s words were lost while he sat there mesmerized at the sight.

“Can you grab me a towel?” You asked meekly, staying leaned over the couch arm with your ass in the air.

“Oh right! Probably would help, yeah?”

Steven went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. He looked up in the mirror, almost hesitantly, afraid of who would be looking back at him this time. No one was there, but he glared anyway. Maybe Jake could see him, or Marc, or not, but just in case Steven wanted them to know that he was upset.

“You stay away when I’m with her. Don’t you dare…both of you.” He said in a harsh whisper so you wouldn’t hear.

He ran the towel under some warm water before going back out to the living room to care for you. He spoke to you while cleaning you up.

“Sorry love, gonna give you a break now. I’m sorry I just…you feel so good all the time, and you’re so pretty, s’hard to-”

“Steven.” You winced while he touched the towel to your tender folds, “it’s okay, really. I…I like having you inside me. Makes me feel more connected to you, you know?”

Steven froze at your words. You wanted to feel connected to him. What was it about him that made you feel that way? He wasn’t anything special, just a man…just a history professor. 

Yet, you wanted to feel connected. 

Steven was starting to feel like he couldn’t live up to your expectations, like he wasn’t good enough to deserve someone that felt that way about him. You were so young, seventeen years younger than him. You had your whole life ahead of you. There was so much potential for you to achieve your dreams, and who was he? Someone who might stop you from achieving the life you wanted if you were caught.

But now he couldn’t imagine his world without you in it.

Steven did give you a break for the rest of the evening, except for you spreading your legs for him on the counter top while he drank from you like a man dying of thirst; or when he circled his fingers over your clit in the heat of a heavy makeout session just before bed. That was simply for your pleasure, though, and only eased the ache he had left behind. In the morning you jerked him off while he struggled to kiss you in a way that wouldn’t leave a prominent hickey on your neck.

The roads were clear on Sunday morning, and you felt safe enough to walk back to your dorm. Steven made sure to give you his number before you left, saying he thought it would be a good idea for you to have it, in the event you had to watch Gus again. You wondered if he even believed his own excuse, but you put his number in your phone happily anyway. You used a moon and coffee bean emoji instead of his name, just in case anyone saw your texts.

“How was your weekend with your cousin?” Layla asked when you got back to the dorm and plopped on your bed.

You tried not to smile too big and alert her to the fact that you’d blatantly lied about your whereabouts all weekend. You looked at your phone.

You: Thank you for the wonderful weekend, I can’t wait to see you again.

Steven: No, Thank you :) See you tomorrow <3

You brought it to your chest and let out a dazed sigh.

“We had a blast.”

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[watchmegetobsessed]

THE SUN WILL RISE (part 4)

A/N: buckle up guys, we are going on a rollercoaster ride!

PAIRING: College!Long-hair!Harry X Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

You and Harry run around the apartment like two tornados, using every second to attempt to make it look like a couple is living here. Harry moves some of his stuff over to your room, only leaving his clothes in the guest bedroom so you can say he only uses the room to store his stuff. In the meanwhile, your room gets a little crowded with his personal nick-nacks. The top of your neatly organized dresser now has Harry’s cologne and deodorant, some hair ties and his chunky rings. He emptied the desk in the guest and moved all his books and notes to your desk, which now barely can function as one since it’s holding way too many study materials. A backpack appears next to yours by the full body length mirror and there is now an extra set of sheets on your bed, which is quite an odd sight.

While you’re running around like crazy, you discuss details Alice might ask you about. Like how you met, your first date, when did Harry move in with you, though you just know there will be something you didn’t cover and Alice will want to know about. 

“Alright, let’s just act normal,” you say with a deep breath when she texts you that she is already on her way up to the apartment. 

“Nothing about this is normal,” Harry laughs, but then his eyes widen. “Oh shit!”

“What?” you ask in panic.

“I-I forgot something in the nightstand’s drawer,” he stammers and then sprints back into his room, just when Alice knocks on the door. 

“Okay, it’s gonna be fine,” you tell yourself as you step to the front door and open it.

“Hi!” Alice greets you brightly as she walks in with a tiny rolling suitcase. “So sorry I just dropped by unannounced, but I was planning to drive back home until I got in contact with this other photographer, so I thought I would spare the time and just stay here.”

“It’s fine,” you say with a nervous smile as you close the door behind her. “But there is something you should know.”

“Oh, okay, what is it?”

“Um, I’m not living alone anymore,” you admit and just in time, Harry walks out of your room with a charming smile as he approaches your sister.

You have never seen your sister speechless in your life. Ever. But as she stares back at Harry with wide eyes and her lips parted, for a moment you think that you’ve broken her somehow. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Harry, Y/N’s boyfriend,” he introduces himself politely, holding a hand out and you catch Alice’s eyes wandering to his tattooed arm before she finally snaps out of her trance.

“I-I’m Alice, Y/N’s sister,” she breathes out, shaking Harry’s hand.

“Harry lives here. With me,” you add to make it totally clear.

“Harry, who is your boyfriend,” she nods, as if she is processing the information. 

“Yes.”

“Well, this is an unexpected turn, but it’s nice to meet you officially!” she beams and she looks genuinely happy to meet him. Relief washes over you at her warm reaction. “Y/N, do you have some wine at home? We could open a bottle and talk,” Alice suggests.

The three of you gather in the living room, even after her initial first reaction, you’re practically shitting bricks while Harry seems totally calm and chill. You open a bottle of white wine that you share while Alice aims her usual questions at Harry, mostly the ones you discussed before her arrival. The rest? Harry wings them all with ease, while you just nod along nervously, letting him take the lead, since he is doing it so well. 

“I’m about to fall asleep,” Alice sighs, pushing down a yawn. “If you don’t mind I’ll call it a night, but maybe we can go to brunch together tomorrow, what do you say?”

“Sure,” you nod, not too happy that you need to pretend even longer, but if you said no she’d get suspicious.

“Great!” she beams. 

The rest of the evening goes by silently. Alice uses the bathroom first and in the meantime you and Harry just quietly get ready to go to bed. 

The same bed.

You’re the next one to shower and when you’re done, it’s finally his turn, which gives you time to panic some more about sleeping in the same bed as Harry. Your bed is big enough to accommodate two people, but it’s been a while since there was another person beside you. What if you snore? Or say something in your sleep? What if you kick him? There are so many scenarios in your head that you’d want to prevent from happening, but you probably won’t be able to.

You hear the bathroom door opening and you jump up from the edge of the bed, suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself. As Harry’s footsteps approach your bedroom you just grab your phone from the nightstand and start aimlessly opening and closing apps. Harry appears at the door, wearing a simple gray shirt with a pair of black cotton shorts, his hair in a bun and the scent of his shower gel lingers after him as he walks in, closing the door.

“I think we did good,” he smirks, throwing his clothes into the hamper he also brought over to your room. His stuff looks odd next to yours, but it’s also a kind of comforting sight somehow. 

“You did excellent, I was… just there,” you say with a breathy chuckle.

“It was teamwork,” he smiles at you. “So… I can sleep on the floor, it’s totally fine,” he offers, eyeing the fluffy rug that’s next to your bed.

“No, don’t be silly, you don’t have to do that,” you shake your head. 

“Okay, so then… we’re sharing,” he nods and you swear you see the corners of his mouth curling upwards as he walks over to the left side of the bed where his pillow is currently.

It’s awkward, how the two of you get on the bed and settle on your own sides, careful not to touch. You’re barely even breathing, keeping your arms close to your sides, staring up at the ceiling as you can only focus on Harry’s presence next to you. 

“Harry?” you speak up, breaking the nerve-wrecking silence, knowing that he is still up too.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for… doing this. You could have easily said no, the deal only included the wedding.”

“Did you think I would say no and leave you on your own to deal with it?” You stay silent for a few moments before answering him.

“No.”

“Good,” he hums. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

You wake up to your sister’s voice somewhere in the distance. At first you think that it’s just in your dream, but then reality slowly sets in and you remember that she is in your apartment and judging from the lovey-dovey way she is talking, she is on the phone with Gabriel. Squeezing your eyes you take a deep breath, only to realize that there is something odd other than your sister’s presence. Your pillow doesn’t feel the same, it’s harder and warmer and there is something heavy over your waist too…

Blinking your eyes open it takes you a few seconds to actually figure out what is happening. Your head is laid over Harry’s chest as you’re cuddled to his side, legs tangled together and his arm is curled around your waist, as if he was trying to keep you close. You freeze right away, eyes widening while he sleeps peacefully, unaware of how the two of you ended up during the night. 

You hear the espresso machine working in the kitchen, Alice always drinks a coffee first thing in the morning, no matter what. You slowly and carefully peel yourself out of Harry’s hold, praying he doesn’t wake up and when you finally make it, you join your sister out in the kitchen.

“Good morning!” she greets you brightly, her cup of coffee already in her hands.

“Morning,” you clear your throat. “How did you sleep?”

“Great, thank you. Harry is still asleep?” she asks, as you start making your own coffee along with Harry’s out of instinct.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Look, I’m sorry if my presence messed up things for the two of you.”

“What? Why would you say that?” you ask with a frown. Well, it did mess things up, but she doesn’t have to know about that. 

“You two seem like… awkward. I haven’t even seen you kiss. I mean, you don’t have to be all over each other, but… I don’t know, it’s not what I was expecting,” she shrugs, sipping on her coffee.

“Oh,” you breathe out. So she didn’t entirely buy your act. Great. “It’s just that you showed up so unexpectedly, he wasn’t ready to meet someone from my family,” you ramble, trying your best to find a believable excuse.

“So there’s nothing else behind it?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“Nope, nothing else.”

Your bedroom’s door opens just when you pour out your and Harry’s coffee into your usual mugs and he walks out rubbing his eyes, his hair smoothened back into a bun again, but he is still wearing his sleep clothes. 

“Good morning,” he smiles lazily and you hold his mug out for him. “Thank you, love,” he hums and you freeze for a moment hearing what he just called you. You can’t tell if it was intentional or just a slip-up. 

You catch Alice eyeing the two of you curiously and you know she is still not fully sold about your relationship.

As you agreed yesterday, you all get ready and go out to have brunch. You can’t relax, you keep thinking about what Alice asked and you’re convinced she somehow knows it’s all just an act. 

When Alice excuses herself from the table to take a call, Harry turns to you with a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? You seem like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“She is not buying the show,” you say, eyeing your sister out on the terrace of the place as she is talking to someone on the phone.

“What do you mean?”

“In the morning, she asked if she made things awkward between us, because we barely touch each other. I think she is onto us.”

Harry chews on your words as you nervously play with the eggs on your plate. If Alice goes home and tells your parents about it, you’re screwed forever. Looking up you watch your sister laugh on something, nodding along the conversation while you’re on the verge of a panic attack. As if she could sense your gaze on her, she glances over at you, your eyes meeting for a bare second before something else grabs your attention.

Harry gently cups your cheek with one hand to turn your face towards him, while the other runs up from your elbow to the base of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes meet his piercing green ones.

“Don’t freak out, I’m gonna kiss you,” he softly says, though it’s too late, you’re already freaking out, however your body is functioning without your brain, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist that’s near your face as you nod.

He is so close already, you can see every freckle and blemish on his face and those long, curly lashes look even more beautiful. He’s gonna kiss you, you’re about to feel his lips on your lips, Harry is going to kiss–

It happens fast, one moment you’re bursting from anxiety, the next the whole world silences around you and Harry’s lips press against yours, the soft, warm touch of them completely silences the burning voices in the back of your mind. 

He starts out slow and gentle, as if he is testing the waters, afraid that you might pull back but you melt into the kiss without hesitation, moving your lips against his with ease, wanting more of him. When he realizes that you’re eager to return the kiss, he gives more of himself too. 

The gentle kiss soon grows into something more heated, something so passionate that if you were to witness it happening, you’d most definitely get flustered. He takes your face between both of his hands, while your hand moves from his wrist to thigh without even thinking through what you’re doing. The touch of your palm on him seems to rile him up, he bites into your bottom lip and tugs on it, the move earning him a moan from you that you just couldn’t hold back. 

It totally slips out of your mind that you’re out in public, there are people around you and it’s not just you and Harry. You make out like those annoying teenagers you frown at usually, but you just can’t help it, you want more, like your life depends on it, you want to feel him everywhere and stretch this experience as long as possible.

But reality pops your little bubble, or more precisely your sister does. 

“Woah, get a room, you guys,” she chuckles as she returns to the table.

You both pull back at her arrival, your head feels dizzy as if you’ve been drinking, but it’s just ten in the noon and you can still feel Harry’s kisses on your swollen lips.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, trying to recollect yourself, though it’s hard to focus on anything when all you can think of is how much you want to kiss Harry again. 

You allow yourself to peek at him, he is staring ahead of him, his lips are a darker shade of pink, his expression is unreadable, but he snaps out of his trance and smiles at Alice as if nothing really happened.

“Sorry, I get carried away with Y/N sometimes,” he chuckles and reaching over he places a hand to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze that sends a shiver down your spine before he pulls his hand back into his lap.

“It’s fine,” Alice smirks knowingly. “I get it.”

After brunch the three of you part ways. Alice leaves to meet the photographer, Harry says he has a few errands to run and you head home with no actual plans other than studying. To mess even more with your head, Harry gives you a soft goodbye kiss when you go into separate directions, it’s just a peck on the lips, but it’s enough to put you on the edge. You try to carry on with your day, but it’s impossible. You find yourself thinking about how it felt to be kissed by him, you can still taste him on the tip of your tongue and not to mention the memory of his thigh under your touch. 

You’re lucky you didn’t go to the library today, because you find yourself whimpering and crossing your leg to try to contain yourself, but you just can’t get him out of your mind. 

That kiss was truly something else and for you there was no pretending in it. But that doesn’t mean Harry had the same experience. 

Alice returns around one pm to gather her stuff and then head back home, since she has a four hours long drive at best.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she smiles as you walk her out. “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”

“Um… I don’t know,” you sigh, not wanting to tell her no straight away. 

“You haven’t been there in years.”

“I know, I just…”

“Alright, I get it,” she nods. Your issues with your parents have been unsaid between you and Alice, she has seen the way your dad has treated you, but she never did or said anything. Probably that’s why you haven’t been able to actually bond with her, when you were younger you expected her to be the big sister your friends told you about, one that would protect the younger one at all cost, but Alice was never that for you. 

When she is finally gone, you feel a wave of relief, but then you remember the kiss again and that you’d have to face Harry again soon. You stick to your plans to spend the rest of the day studying, all while you obsessively wait for the front door to open, but hours go by and there’s no sign of Harry. 

It’s quite late when he finally returns home, you have no idea what took him so long, but you feel a rush of excitement washing over you when you hear the front door open. You’ve set your textbooks aside by now, lounging in the living room, watching some Netflix, but you instantly forget about the show when he arrives. 

“Hi!” you greet him standing up while he is kicking his shoes off in the hallway.

“Hi.” He doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about seeing you and it instantly sends you down the spiral of everything you could have done to earn his dislike towards you again.

“Long day?”

“Uh, kinda. I had a few things to take care of,” he replies shortly and it doesn’t seem like he is keen on having a heart-to-heart with you right now. “Alice is gone?”

“Yeah, she left sometime in the afternoon.”

He nods and then grabs himself a bottle of water in the kitchen before heading back into his room, but he stops halfway down the hallway.

“I’m gonna move my stuff back now,” he simply states, making a turn into your bedroom.

“Sure,” you breathe out, your throat closing up at how cold he is acting.

It’s not his old, rude self, but in a way, it hurts even more. Your friendship has grown so much in the past weeks and then there was that mind-blowing kiss today at brunch. Now he barely even looks at you.

He unloads his things from your room and moves everything back into his and just like that, every proof of spending last night together is gone. 

You don’t see him for the rest of the evening, only hear him take a shower and then he locks himself up in his room again, ignoring your presence completely. And just like that, it feels like you’re back at square one. 

October passes by and turns into November in a blink of an eye. Your dynamic with Harry changes after Alice’s visit, or more precisely after the kiss you shared. He is barely home, doesn’t spend time with you and you’re back to the basics, only talking when it’s needed.

It’s weird, because it’s not like when he was actively hating you, it’s more like he is just simply avoiding getting in contact with you. 

Confrontation is not your field and you’ve never actually let yourself go against someone or something, this time is no exception either. Every time you work up your courage to ask Harry about what’s really happening, you always chicken out. You want to please others so badly that it’s impossible for you to speak up about a touchy subject. Therefore you never find out what made Harry give you the cold shoulder again. 

You fall back into just coexisting and you accept it without fighting to find out the truth. If this is not a sign that you shouldn’t be a lawyer, you’re not sure what is.

You don’t go home for Thanksgiving, but end up alone at your apartment because Harry joins Tanner for the holiday and drives home with him. That allows you to do what you always do: study until your eyes feel like popping out of your head.

Every year is harder than the last one, especially for you when you have no interest in being a lawyer, but you know you have to push yourself through it no matter what. 

When everyone returns to campus after Thanksgiving, the last hurray of the semester starts before the winter break. 

Even with all the time you’ve spent studying, you still end up being behind with a few of your assignments, one of those specifically being a project you need to do with a partner. You got signed up with Parker at the beginning of the semester and somehow you both kept pushing the actual work back, only doing some research, but not the actual case study you need to do.

It all ends up with only having only a few days until the deadline, so it becomes your priority for the rest of the week, pushing everything else to the last week.

Wednesday afternoon you’re lounging in the cafeteria with Vivian and Iris, having a late lunch while they are just avoiding studying by complaining about the workload that’s waiting for them. 

You spot Harry entering the cafeteria from far away. Judging from the past month, you don’t expect him to join the three of you, but you’re surprised to see that he is heading in your direction.

“Hi girls,” he nods around with a small smile, his eyes barely brushing over you before they settle on Vivian. “Have you seen Tanner?” he asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Um, I think he has a meeting with professor Duncan, he is probably begging him not to fail him,” she chuckles. “Why?”

“Just wanted to ask something about the weekend. You guys are coming to the party on Saturday, right?” he asks, looking around.

“Of course! My seven assignments I haven’t even started can wait another night,” Iris grins. “Y/N, you’re coming, right?”

“Probably not, I might be meeting up with Parker.”

“Oh, alright,” she nods, not even questioning. Iris and Viv know how behind you are with this deadline, so they don’t even try to convince you to join them instead. 

Harry, on the other hand, is now finally looking at you, but that doesn’t even describe the look on his face. It’s an intent stare, as if you just said something dramatic or confusing. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that the mentioning of Parker caught his attention.

“Parker?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. We already agreed to meet,” is all you say, knowing well that he is probably getting the wrong idea about the situation, but you just simply let him.

If you were brave enough you’d call him out on it. That he’s been ignoring your presence this past month, but now interested in who you have plans with, especially because he knows that it’s a guy. 

But you remain silent and Harry doesn’t ask another question before departing. 

Even though you and Parker work hard all Friday afternoon and evening, you don’t finish the case study, so you have to continue on Saturday. It takes hours in the library, but at last you finally get everything done and submit your work just in time.

“God, this was… brain damaging,” he chuckles, as the two of you walk out of the library only minutes before it closes.

“We really shouldn’t have left it to the last minute,” you sigh, shaking your head. “But I think we did good.”

“We did fucking amazing! We deserve something now as a treat.”

“Hey, want to go out? My friends are at a party, I think it’s not too late to join the fun,” you offer, checking the time.

“That sounds perfect, I deserve getting drunk after this,” he grins.

The party is raging on its fullest by the time the two of you arrive. When Iris spots you walking in she squeals and jumps into your arms, she has clearly had a few drinks already.

“I’m so glad you came! Did you guys finish the case study?” she asks, her glassy eyes moving between you and Parker.

“It sucked the life out of us, but we’re done,” Parker jokes and you nod in agreement.

“Amazing, now it’s time to let loose! Come on, you both need a drink!”

It’s been a rough few weeks and you decide tonight is just for fun, so you take whatever cocktail Iris mixed for you, though it tastes like it’s just different kinds of alcohol poured together. You’re not big on drinking, but tonight you let yourself go harder than you usually do.

Two killer drinks later you can definitely feel the buzz as you’re talking to Parker, making fun of some of the weaker points in your assignment, hoping the professor won’t notice them. It’s not even that funny, but the alcohol racing through your system makes everything a lot more entertaining.

Then you see Harry.

He is standing on the opposite end of the room, staring at you with the deadliest look you’ve seen on his face and if he could kill with his eyes, you and Parker would be dead by now, that’s for sure. 

Normally, you’d be intimidated, bothered by him and it would never even occur to you to talk to him, to call him out on his weird behavior, but the drinks you’ve had gave you the courage to step out of your usual self and gain the confidence you don’t usually have. 

You stare back at him, holding his gaze and you pat yourself on the shoulder when he is the first one to look away. You watch him walk out of the house, his jaw clenched, ignoring two girls that try to talk to him on his way out. 

You don’t let him ruin tonight for you with his moody act, tonight you’re letting loose. Parker sticks around for a little more, but then he finds some of his friends so you part ways. You’re a giggling mess, along with Iris and Vivian and now you’re questioning why you never get to this stage when you’re at a party. It’s currently slipping your mind that it’s the hangover that will follow tomorrow that usually keeps you away from drinking.

“God, I think I need some air,” you groan, after downing another shot with the girls, but it hits you hard in the head. They just nod, probably not even processing your words as you get up from the couch and head outside, hoping that the cold air will help with the dizziness.

You walk past a few groups of smoking people until you find a spot where you can lean against the wall, a bit secluded from the rest of the party. Your head is spinning, not too much, but enough to make you feel uncomfortable and you know you’re at your turning point. If you don’t want to black out you need to stop with the drinks.

“Lost your little friend?” you hear an all too familiar voice and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you look at Harry.

“What are you talking about,” you breathe out.

“That Parker guy. Did you have a nice date with him?” he asks and his words are dripping from something venomous and you just can’t move past it this time.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” you groan, pushing yourself away from the wall to face him. 

“Just asked a simple question. Or is it a touchy subject? Let me know if you don’t need me for the wedding anymore though.”

And that’s the last straw.

“You know what, Harry? Fuck you! You don’t get to act like a dick when you’ve been ignoring my existence for the past month, again! You’re like a fucking child with a terrible attitude, I know something is bothering you, but you just wouldn’t fucking say it, instead, you’re treating me like shit with no explanation! But I’m fucking over it! You don’t get to act like a jealous asshole when you see me with another guy, because you couldn’t even look at me after we kissed! So stop being a dick, tell me what your problem is or fuck off!”

Judging from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting an outburst from you. Neither did you, but it seems like you’ve reached your limit. 

When he just stands there and says nothing, you take it as your queue to leave the short, kind of one sided conversation, but that brings his voice back.

“You’re running to your little boyfriend?” he comments and at this point, you’re seeing red.

“He is not my fucking boyfriend! Stop being an asshole!” you shout back, not caring if anyone can hear you.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you say so? You let me think you’re dating him!”

“Because you don’t have the right to know anything about me when you’ve been an absolute fucking dick to me ever since we met!” you scream back. “Why the fuck do you treat me like garbage? Why wouldn’t you even look at me since we fucking kissed?!”

“Because you are everything to me, Y/N! Fucking everything! And I will never be good enough for you!”

The screaming stops, you are both just staring at each other, breathing heavily as the words, feelings and everything between hangs in the air.

And then the next thing you know is that you’re kissing, hard and passionately.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles oneshots #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #the sun will rise

[clusterbuck]

something new with every tomorrow

5x18 coda

buck thinks the universe might be screaming at him.

or—maybe screaming isn’t the right word, exactly. it’s more like nagging. like the universe is sitting on his shoulder whispering in his ear.

he also thinks the universe might be calling him stupid.

and that—well, it might be warranted. he feels a little stupid, now, sitting in his empty apartment holding the key taylor had pressed into his hand.

not for breaking up with taylor. no, he’s pretty sure that’s the smartest thing he’s done in months. but for letting it go as far as it did.

i thought i could learn to live with it, he hears himself saying, and wonders what business he’d thought he had all those months ago, telling eddie that’s not how you talk about someone you’re in love with.

his phone is in his hand before he even makes the conscious decision to call eddie.

“buck?” eddie asks as soon as he picks up, a questioning edge of concern in his voice.

“i need you to come over,” buck says.

“now?” eddie asks. “buck, are you—is everything okay?”

buck pulls the phone from his ear and peers at the time. oh. it’s getting kind of late.

“yeah,” he sighs. “yeah, it’s—it’s fine.”

“buck, what’s going on?”

buck stays silent.

“buck, if you don’t tell me i’m just going to come over anyway.”

“i was gonna say—” he sighs again. “i need you to come over and tell me i’m being stupid. or maybe that i’m not being stupid. i don’t really know. i just feel—”

“stupid?” eddie asks when buck trails off, and buck snorts.

“a little, yeah.”

“stupid how?” eddie asks. “i mean—you’re not gonna call taylor or anything, right?”

“no, definitely not,” buck says. “no, that’s done. it’s over.”

he thinks eddie might mutter good, but it’s too quiet for him to be sure.

“i don’t know,” buck says for what feels like the hundredth time just today. “i just feel—i just feel, i think. does that make sense?”

“yeah,” eddie says. “yeah, it does. i’ll be there in half an hour, okay?”

“you don’t need to—” buck says, even as something in his chest loosens at the thought of eddie leaning on his kitchen island, eddie propped against the railing of his balcony, eddie sprawled across his couch.

“maybe i want to,” eddie says. “i’m just gonna drop chris at pepa’s on the way, she’s been asking about a sleepover anyway.”

“eddie—”

“hey,” eddie says, cutting him off. “stop trying to talk me out of having your back.”

“i’m—” buck starts, then swallows. isn’t that what we all want in a partner? ravi’s words echo through his mind. knowing that they have your back?

buck’s changed his mind. the universe isn’t screaming at him, it’s laughing.

“buck?” eddie asks.

“yeah, okay,” buck says. “bring beer on your way, will you? i’ve only got some of that weird shit taylor left behind.”

“yeah,” eddie says, “we’re definitely not drinking that.”

eddie lets himself into the apartment half an hour later. buck hears the sound of the door, but he doesn’t move from where he’s stretched out on the floor of his balcony, angled so he can see the sky between the towering buildings around him. there’s no stars out here, not with all the light pollution, but if buck imagines hard enough he can pretend he sees them anyway.

“buck?” eddie asks. “you good?”

“ask me something easier,” buck mutters.

eddie’s quiet for a second, then: “want a beer?”

“yeah,” buck says and doesn’t get up off the floor.

something cold touches his face, and he realises eddie is balancing the beer bottle on his forehead. “gotta get up if you want to drink it,” he says. buck snorts and grabs the bottle before hauling himself upright. he doesn’t get off the floor, though, leaning back against the balcony railing, arms resting on his bent knees.

eddie sits down across from him, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him. “hey,” he says, nudging buck’s foot with his. “what’s up?”

buck sighs and lets his head fall back against the railing.

“remember when you said you were gonna stick it out with ana, and i told you that was dumb?”

“is that what you said?” eddie asks.

“in spirit,” buck says.

“yeah,” eddie says. “i remember. why?”

“why didn’t you tell me the same thing about taylor?”

eddie’s quiet for a while, and and buck hears his throat work as he takes a drink. “would you have listened to me?” he finally asks.

buck picks his head up off the wall just so eddie sees him rolling his eyes. “yeah, probably not.”

“is that what you feel stupid about?” eddie asks. “or—not stupid?”

“i just—i feel like it made sense while i was in it, but now i have no idea why i stayed so long,” buck says.

“it’s not stupid to try and make your relationship work,” eddie says. “even if—” he cuts himself off, wedges his beer bottle between his lips like he’s trying to stop himself from speaking.

buck finds himself a little mesmerised by the movement.

“even if what?” he asks when he’s been staring for maybe a moment too long.

eddie says nothing, keeps the bottle in his mouth, darts his eyes to the side.

“even if it’s with someone like taylor?” buck asks. “that’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”

eddie finally takes his beer bottle out of his mouth, and buck tries not to look too hard at the slight imprint it’s left on his bottom lip. “you said it, not me,” eddie says, and buck reaches for the closest projectile to throw at him. it turns out to be a leaf that’s fallen from one of his potted plants, so it’s not the most effective weapon, but it’s the thought that counts.

“i know you never liked her,” buck says. “not since the moment we met her.”

“when we met her you only liked her because she was hot,” eddie says, and buck raises his beer in acknowledgement.

“i really did think she’d changed, you know,” buck says. “i guess i thought—i’m not the same person as when we first met, so i thought maybe she wouldn’t be either.”

“i know,” eddie says.

“but then she—you know she wasn’t even sorry?” buck asks. “or—she said i’m sorry you’re still upset. that’s bullshit, right?”

“yeah,” eddie says. “yeah, it is.”

buck doesn’t know if he’s just agreeing with him or if he actually thinks so, but he’s grateful either way.

“but like—she had no remorse,” buck says. “for what she actually did. i don’t think she even understands how bad it could have been. what could have happened.”

“but that’s not on you,” eddie says. “none of it is on you.”

“rationally, i know that,” buck says. “i think. i just keep thinking i should have seen it earlier. that i should have—i don’t know.”

“maybe there was nothing to see earlier,” eddie says. “maybe she thought she’d changed, too, until the situation came up.”

buck squints at him. “you don’t like taylor,” he says, accusative. “you’re being weirdly charitable about her for someone who doesn’t like her.”

“nah,” eddie says, easy, and inclines his beer bottle at buck. “i’m being charitable about you. she’s just collateral—i don’t know, what’s the opposite of collateral damage?”

“nothing,” buck says, “because that’s not a thing.”

“is that why you wanted me to come over?” eddie asks. “to tell you you’re not stupid for not breaking up with taylor sooner?”

“maybe,” buck mutters. “i don’t know, i was just—”

“in your head about it?” eddie asks, and buck laughs.

“yeah,” he says. “that.”

“i don’t think anyone expects you to just snap your fingers and be over it,” eddie says. “it was a long-term relationship. you’re allowed to be a little in your head about it, i think.”

“yeah,” buck huffs. “maybe.” he takes a drink. “tell me something good,” he says to eddie. “i don’t want to be in my head about it. i don’t want to dwell.”

“i’m coming back to work on monday,” eddie says, his face spreading into a grin. “back to the 118. it was gonna be a surprise, but—”

buck sets his beer down and craws across the balcony, landing halfway in eddie’s lap in an awkward sort of half-hug.

“uh, hi,” eddie says, arms coming up around buck as if on instinct.

“oh, uh, sorry,” buck says and tries to extricate himself, but eddie holds on.

“no, hold on, just—” he says and tugs at buck until they’re arranged a little more comfortably, buck resting against his chest. “good?”

“yeah,” buck murmurs. “just, god, you don’t know how happy i am to hear that. it’s not the same without you there.”

“not as happy as i am to say it,” eddie says.

“wanna bet?” buck asks. eddie’s laughter rumbles in his chest, and his arm tightens around buck.

“agree to disagree,” he says.

buck lets his head rest against eddie’s chest, and feels eddie’s chin settle on the top of his head. eddie’s hand traces absent-minded patterns on his hip and buck feels goosebumps rising in their wake, and he flashes back to the image of eddie’s lips wrapped around his beer bottle, the brief stab of curiosity about what those lips would feel like on his. he burrows in closer to eddie and eddie shifts to accommodate him, easy and instinctive like they do this every day.

and maybe the universe is screaming at him, buck thinks. maybe it is calling him stupid for not seeing what was right in front of him.

but maybe the universe isn’t talking about taylor.

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #911 spoilers #911 5x18 #shush emma #emma writes

[fan-fantasies]

Want Me

A/N: I hope you enjoy the second part! My writing has slowed down as my wifi at work sucks and that’s usually the only place I write. But I’m gonna try to keep working on some more pieces I have in mind!

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Warnings: parents being assholes, unprotected sex

< (y/f/n) = your full name >

Part two of Feel Me

Every fiber of your being wanted to rush back to Eddie’s trailer that night and confess your love for him. You wanted him to hold you and tell you he loved you too.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

The coolness he displayed toward you the last time you were together scared you into thinking maybe he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. You wouldn’t blame him, after all.

So instead of running to him, you ran home and showered, trying to erase any trace of the evening off of you. You wanted to forget about everything for a while and pretend like your life wasn’t falling apart.

You told your parents that you had broken up with Alex and they were furious. He was the perfect guy for you, they insisted. They practically demanded that you go and try to get him back. When you heard that, you exploded.

“I’m done!” Your parents stared at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. “I’m done with him. I’m done with you guys telling me what to do. I’m done trying to be perfect!”

“(Y/f/N), you listen here, little lady. You will apologize for being disrespectful and you will clean up your act! Alex was your chance at stability, for a good life, and you threw that all down the drain. And for what?!”

“For love! For real love! And real happiness!” You shouted. Your heart instantly sank when you realized you had just confessed. Your father’s demeanor hardened.

“Excuse me? What do you mean ‘real love’?”

“I didn’t love Alex. He was nice and all but he didn’t make me happy. I want to be with someone who does,” you said.

“And I’m guessing you’ve already found this person?”

“I-I-”

“You will tell me who it is, right now! No daughter of mine is going to be running around with trash ruining our reputation!” He yelled.

“It doesn’t matter who it is, it just matters that I’m happy.” Tears began to well up in your eyes, threatening to spill. Your voice trembled but you didn’t back down.

“Get out.”

“What?” You and your mother both asked at the same time.

“Get. Out. And only come back when you have some common sense in your head,” he said. You looked at your mom who just looked at the floor. You understood now just how little you meant to either of them.

You ran to your room to pack a bag before speeding off in your car. You could hear your mother sobbing in her room, but she made her own decision to stand by your father.

Tears began to blur your vision as you drove so you pulled over. You finally let out all of your pent up emotions as you cried into your steering wheel.

Where would you go? Who would be willing to take you in? God, you had really fucked it up this time.

You sucked in a deep breath and composed yourself, heading to the one place you could think of.

“Of course you can crash with me,” Steve said, placing a comforting arm on your shoulder. You smiled softly.

“Um, I think she was talking to me,” Robin scoffed.

“I was just hoping I could crash in the back room for a while, nothing fancy. I know Keith, he’s my neighbor, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh he absolutely wouldn’t mind a pretty lady staying here,” Steve smirked. Robin just rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the way.

“Honestly, you could just come stay with me. It would be a lot comfier than that crappy old couch. And we could get to know each other better,” she smiled.

“The couch is fine, but thank you,” you smiled back.

She opened up the back room for you and brought you a hidden pillow and blanket.

“So do you wanna share why one of Hawkins royalty is hiding out at the video store?” She asked.

“Not so much hiding out as kicked out,” you chuckled dryly. Her eyes instantly softened and she sat down on the couch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Just stupid stuff, like ruining my entire life. And over a guy who probably hates me now.” You sat down next to her and laid your head on the back of the couch.

“Alex? You were dating that Alex guy right?”

“I was…but I wasn’t talking about him…” you mumbled.

“Oh. Well, I’m sure everything will work out eventually. Maybe not the way you want, but it’ll work out,” she said. You gave her a small smile and she left you in your new home.

You didn’t know what you were going to do. You had no family. No boyfriend. No close friends really. Your entire planned future was dismantled in mere minutes.

You decided not to go to school the next day, just so you could avoid Eddie. You helped Keith and Steve out at the store so you didn’t feel so guilty crashing on the couch.

You knew you couldn’t just drop out of school, no matter how much you wanted to sometimes. So the next day, you put on your bravest face and entered the school.

You immediately found Robin, not wanting to face your normal crowd of douche bags. Even though she didn’t know exactly what was going on, she still did her best to keep your spirits up.

She was going a pretty good job of that, too, until lunch came. You knew the cafeteria was Eddie’s own personal stage most days. He liked to put on a show, proving he was the freak everyone said he was. You knew that wasn’t true, but sometimes it was easier to conform than to fight the crowd.

You picked at your food, not really paying much attention to what was happening around you. That was until you heard his booming voice. He was on some monologue about the popular crowd and their horrible music choice. That’s when he turned his attention to the band geeks, most of whom you were sitting with.

“And you all need to learn some real music!” He said enthusiastically. His smile fell, however, when his eyes landed on your. Your heart plummeted into your stomach and you were frozen. Robin looked between the two of you and her mouth formed an “oh”.

You grabbed your lunch tray, throwing it out, and ran from the crowd. You made a beeline for the nurses office, which was thankfully empty. You told the nice lady that you were feeling faint and nauseous. She said you had a slight temperature and didn’t look well so she excused you from your classes for the rest of the day. You, however, decided to take the rest of the week off.

It was Friday night and the video store had just closed. You offered to clean up and put all the returns away. The only light on was in the back room so it didn’t look like you were open. That didn’t stop someone from knocking on the door anyway. You tried to ignore it, but they wouldn’t go away.

“We’re closed!” You yelled. The pounding intensified. “I said we’re closed!”

“(Y/N), open up!” Your entire body tensed when you heard his voice.

With shaky hands, you unlocked the door and yanked it open. Eddie stood outside, staring at you which only made you more nervous.

“W-we’re closed,” you almost whispered. He let out a short laugh.

“Good, then we won’t be interrupted.” He pushed past you and you quickly locked back up. He disappeared into the back room and you ran after him.

He surveyed the room that was now scattered with your belongings. He finally looked back up at you with a sadness in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked.

“I asked Robin what’s been going on and all she told me was I would find you here and I didn’t believe her. What the hell is happening, sweetheart?” He took a step toward you and you wrap your arms tighter around yourself and looked at the ground.

“I broke up with Alex and my parents kicked me out,” you mumbled.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I wanted to,” you sniffled, “I just figured you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I’m sorry for how I acted toward you. I knew what our arrangement was and I guess I just let my feelings get the best of me,” he admitted.

“What feelings?” You pulled back and looked at him.

“I fell in love with you and I wanted to be selfish and have you all to myself. It was hard for me to accept that you belonged to another guy.”

“I broke up with him that night.”

“Why?” He leaned in closer, your lips begging for his.

“Because I love you Eddie.” That was all it took for him to sweep you up in a passionate kiss. You walked him back until he fell onto the couch.

You straddled him easily without breaking the kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he moaned. You pulled harder and his hips bucked up into yours.

“Fuck, I missed this. I missed you,” he whispered as you peppered kisses down his neck. You started to grind down onto his lap and he threw his head back.

Before you knew what was happening, he rolled you over and started to undo his pants. He shimmied your bottoms off of you and his fingers instantly found your clit.

“Always so ready for me, baby, huh? Always so ready for my cock,” he grunted, freeing himself from his pants.

“Please, Eddie,” you whined.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He lined his cock up with your entrance and waited.

“Please, fuck me!”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Eds. I’m all yours,” you said in all honesty for the first time. He slowly pushed into you, sending electricity through your entire body like it was your first time all over again.

“That’s right, gorgeous. You’re all mine,” he said, slowly picking up his pace. “And I’m never letting you go.”

“Fuck, Eds, I don’t want you to,” you moaned. You clawed at his back as he began to hammer into you. He sucked a hickey onto your neck but you didn’t care.

His hand snaked it’s way down to your pussy, fingers finding your clit again.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum on my cock,” he said.

You tried to hang on, to prolong it, but Eddie’s fingers rubbed faster and you were a goner. You came with his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.

His orgasm followed yours, his hips stuttering until he stilled deep inside you. A warmth came over your entire body as you came down from your high. Neither of you moved for a few moments, just enjoying being together once again.

“You’re really mine?” He asked quietly, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Of course, if you’ll have me,” you answered.

“I’d have it no other way,” he smiled. He kissed you again before getting up and cleaning you off. He began to throw your things into your bag.

“What’re you doing?”

“Packing your things. You’re coming home with me,” he said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh, Eddie, it’s really okay. I don’t mind staying here,” you protested.

“No girl of mine is gonna be staying on some couch when I have a perfectly good…mostly good mattress at home,” he said and you laughed.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, baby. You’ll stay with me as long as you need. And if that’s for forever then even better,” he smirked. You smiled at the idea but it was bittersweet because you didn’t like that your parents were mad at you. Eddie could tell something was wrong so he took you in his arms. “It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.”

“I know, Eds. I love you,” you sighed.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now let’s go home.”

———————————

Taglist- @dootys @thebookbakery @mellomadness @munsaniac @tiredwritersworld

@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #stranger things

[heliads]

Hi 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but one time after a fight you get in a car accident and get hurt badly. Damon feels this and searches for you, just to find you in time to save your life. He then stays with you, taking care of your wounds until you wake up again. Then he apologizes and promises to protect you and never get you hurt again ? Just some really cute fluff with this cutie. Thank you dear ☺️

oh yes damon my fave

masterlist

You are riding in a car with your boyfriend when it all breaks down. The two of you were sent out of Mystic Falls to go chase down the latest lead on the latest mess to befall your friends, and what should have been a fun trip has quickly turned into a thunderstorm brewing at the edges of a perfect day.

The two of you have been dead silent for the past twenty minutes, which is never a good sign. Contrary to what he likes to pretend, Damon Salvatore is never one to keep quiet. He likes to rattle off bad jokes like bullets from a gun, or at least offer up sarcastic remarks on anything and everything that crosses his mind. If he’s keeping mum, then he must be able to pick up on the tension more than you thought, which means this is bad.

He breaks eventually, as you’d assumed. Thirty minutes to the border of Mystic Falls, Damon can’t take it any longer, and turns to you with a sigh.

“Listen, sweetheart, are you going to tell me what’s going on or not? I haven’t had someone try this hard to avoid me since I killed Jeremy for, like, the twentieth time.”

You laugh dryly. “I’m not avoiding you, I’m in the exact same car as you. We’re at most three feet apart.”

Damon groans. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? Well, fine. You’re not avoiding me, you’re just avoiding conversation. Can you tell me what’s wrong, at least?”

You tilt your head towards him, making sure to stare extra hard at the stretch of white t-shirt poking out from his favorite black leather jacket. “You have blood on your collar.”

Damon nods, intentionally slowly so you can feel every second of his impatience. “Yes, I’m a vampire. It happens often.”

You nod back, just as sarcastically. “Yeah, and I know for a fact that you brought one blood bag on this trip and drank it one state back. The only source of blood you had would be the waitresses at the diner we stopped at two hours ago.”

Damon freezes slightly, and even though he tries to play it off, you know you’ve struck on the truth. “Interesting point.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Now you’re the one making this difficult. You swore to me that you didn’t eat from any of the staff there, because you were ‘trying to be better’ and ‘you only ate from bad people, like a subdued Stefan.’”

Damon hums, looking pointedly at the road so he doesn’t have to face your wrath. “I’m glad that you remember my words so well. It means I’m really important to you.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “We’ve been dating for a year, I’d say you are really important to me. That’s not the point, though. The point is that you lied to me about not feeding on those waitresses, because otherwise you wouldn’t have a very suspicious bloodstain on your previously clean shirt.”

Damon shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Great work, Sherlock Holmes. You got me. Now, do I have to say that I’m sorry if we both know it won’t be true?”

You throw a hand in the air, frustrated. “I’m not bothered by the fact that you were feeding on people, Damon, we’ve been over this like a thousand times. What hurts is that you lied to me.”

Damon finally takes a break from his staring contest with the horizon to flash a quick, irritated glance your way. “It’s not that big of a deal. I thought you’d get upset about it, something about a past fight where you yelled at me for feasting on the innocent, so I just took care of a problem without having to involve you. What’s so bad about that?”

You scoff. “What’s so bad about lying to your girlfriend? I don’t know, Damon, you tell me. I have been accepting of literally everything else, but you know how I feel about the lies.”

He looks away again. “Oh, right, because you’re such a saint for putting up with me and my tragic vampiric habits.”

Your eyes narrow. “Hey, I never said that. I’ve never had a problem with you being a vampire, I just think it’s bad when you lie to me and you kill people who haven’t done a thing to hurt anyone. I don’t think those two concepts should be so awful to you.”

Damon’s hands drum restlessly on the steering wheel. “If you wanted to change me, you should have said that at the beginning so I could tell you not to get your hopes up. I am who I am, sweetheart, and if you don’t like that, then–”

You speak over him. “Then what, I should leave?”

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you sigh, disgusted. “I can’t believe you. Stop the car.”

Damon slows, then stops when you start tugging at the door handle. “You can’t be serious.”

You laugh incredulously. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not dealing with this right now.”

You step out of the car, and walk towards the grassy slope running parallel to the road. Mystic Falls isn’t that far, and you can stroll all the way there yourself if you have to. In the past, Damon wouldn’t have moved an inch except to keep up with you. He would have called you crazy, maybe, but you would always be able to tell that he didn’t mean it. Damon would stay until you got back in, and he wouldn’t let you go. Not once, not ever.

The Damon in the car beside you now, though, is not the man you fell in love with a year ago. This Damon sighs so loudly you can hear it through the lowered windows, and takes off in a rush. You watch his car disappear on the horizon, and only once he’s well and truly gone do you allow your tears to fall, dropping so quickly that you can hardly breathe. The two of you have never been on such rocky shores. You have no idea if you’ll survive this. 

You hate that your love is no longer a guarantee, but there’s nothing you can do about it immediately. For now, though, you have to get home. You can figure out relationship troubles then. You start walking, but about five minutes later, a car slows to a stop beside you. For a moment, your heart surges to your throat, and you hope against hope that it might be Damon, come to apologize.

Instead, the face looking back at you is slightly asymmetrical, framed by shaggy red hair and a sparse beard. You’ve never seen the man before, but he offers you a ride and seems trustworthy, so you take it. If something goes wrong, well, you’ve already left one car today. He does seem a little unfocused, but Mystic Falls isn’t that far off. What could possibly happen in such a short distance?

Damon regrets leaving the second his foot steps on the gas. Damn him and his stupid pride, the way he always has to win an argument or at least look good while leaving. After he travels five minutes or so, he gives in and turns around, but by then, Y/N is already gone. She’s probably gotten a new ride, so he doesn’t have to worry. 

He takes a shortcut home, one known only by people who’ve had the fantastic opportunity of living near the area for a century or so. Damon is just pulling into the driveway of the Salvatore house when something hits him, something stronger than a guilty conscience. He’s never been prone to believe in witchy visions, even despite knowing Bonnie Bennett, so his first instinct is to just brush this incident aside.

Still, something is hammering away at Damon’s head, telling him that if he doesn’t get his ass up and go find Y/N now, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his interminably long life. He doesn’t even bother to stop the car, just turns around and gets back on the road. Damon doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he is, and he won’t stop until he finds something to stop the feeling in his chest telling him that something has happened, something bad.

Damon gets a call about a minute later, and picks it up upon seeing the caller ID flash out the name of Liz Forbes. He answers, one hand still on the wheel.

“Sheriff! What’s up?”

Liz seems tired, the rattle of her sigh turning into static over the line. “You’re still on the road, right? Would you mind heading towards the highway near the entrance to the town? Apparently there was a bad crash just a couple seconds ago, but I’m all tied up with vampire business and I can’t make it out there to check it for myself.”

Damon is starting to connect the dots, revealing a picture that’s far worse than he even wants to imagine. “Absolutely. Heading there now.”

He scarcely hears the sheriff’s last few words of gratitude before he hangs up and starts gunning the engine. Damon knows what this is about, he thinks, but he won’t know for sure until he happens upon the scene of the crash.

Damon finds it soon enough, both thanks to the sheriff’s directions and the strange intuition of his own heart. He can see the crash site from a while away, too. Two mangled frames of metal, glass shards everywhere, burned rubber tracing crazed lines across the pavement. 

Damon pulls off the road and starts running, sprinting towards the felled cars until he finds the one that seems the most right. A redheaded man with cuts streaking his face is yelling something at Damon, but he doesn’t care, even despite the allure of fresh blood. 

He’s just seen a figure in one of the flipped cars, someone who isn’t moving. Damon swears under his breath and moves, pulling the limp body out through a tire-sized hole in the passenger side window.

He knows it’s Y/N even before he touches her, but there is still something absolutely horrifying about seeing her eyelids closed, her entire frame so motionless. Damon carries in her arms a good ways away from the car, enough that the two of them are hidden from view from anyone else, so he can get a good look at her.

It’s bad, to say the least. He can already see several badly broken bones, and judging by the fact that she’s covered in blood and steadfastly refusing to open her eyes, she’s a few moments from death. Already, her breaths are coming slower and slower, scarcely enough to move her chest.

Damon makes a choice in the span of a moment. He tears open his wrist with his teeth, forcing the blood into her mouth. He’s never prayed like this before, but in this moment, Damon swears to everything that’s holy and a few others, anything to ensure that the young woman before him will open her eyes, please. Even if it’s to hate him. Even if it’s to keep up that same stupid, pointless fight. He just needs her to be alright.

Vampire blood doesn’t take long to heal, but even fractions of a second seem like centuries before Y/N finally coughs and starts to sit up. Damon might have accidentally fractured a couple of her ribs with the force of his hug, but he can’t help it. He legitimately didn’t know if she was going to wake again. Nothing can ever make up for that fear.

Y/N’s hand finds his arm, and Damon does his best for a smile. “Hey, hey. You’re going to be alright. It was a bad crash, but you’re better now. Promise.”

Y/N smiles quietly back at him. “Of course I’m okay. You got me out, didn’t you?”

Damon’s heart stirs painfully in his chest. “You’re too good for me, sweetheart. I swear it. God, this is all my fault. I never should have left. I never should have lied.”

Y/N chuckles, the sound raspy in her still-healing chest. “Don’t worry about that anymore. It’s over. I think saving me from a deadly car crash more than makes up for a small squabble.”

Damon sighs. “You can say that all you want, but I don’t know if I’ll believe it for a while. I just need you, alright?”

She smiles again, leaning forward to rest her head against his. “I need you too, Damon. More than anything.”

Damon pulls her close, finally allowing himself to relax. He’s got her back. This is all that matters.

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore imagines #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore oneshot #tvd #tvd imagines #tvd x reader #tvd oneshot #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaires imagines #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries oneshot #tvd damon #tvd damon imagines #tvd damon x reader #tvd damon oneshot #the vampire diaries damon #the vampire diaries damon imagines #the vampire diaries damon x reader #the vampire diaries damon oneshot

[solitaireships]

Bad Idea, Right?

I've been feeling so normal (lying) about Hoffman lately so you know what. It's time for me to write a fic about him. This is also the longest fic that I've written for this account bcs I am enamored with him

Rating: Teen

Genre: idk it's too plot driven to be fluff. There are flavors of hurt/comfort here. Also getting together

Words: 4207 words

Divider by saradika

Content warning: This fic mentions past domestic violence/abuse and death

Shepard wakes up to the sound of a door closing in her living room. She has a moment of panic, far more awake than usual. But the memory that she’s not living alone anymore is quick to reassure her that at least it’s probably not an intruder. Though that instead brings her the question of what Hoffman is doing in her living room at two in the morning. 

Part of her wants to go back to sleep. She has enough problems with sleeping, the last thing that she needs to do is wake herself up more and make it even harder to fall asleep again. But this is unusual, and curiosity has always been one of her biggest weaknesses.

So Shepard grabs her glasses from the nightstand, stumbling towards her bedroom door and towards the living room. 

When she makes it into the living room, the lights are so harsh it takes a second for her to adjust to them. But when her eyes do adjust, she sees Hoffman fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, stepping away from the coat closet with the same dark blue parka that Shepard had originally found him in. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Shepard asks, her voice still rough from just having woken up.

Hoffman looks over at her like he’s surprised to see her. “What the hell are you doing? It’s two AM, go back to sleep.”

“Not until I find out what you’re doing up, apparently getting ready to go out and do something.”

Hoffman gives her a long, hard look. Shepard crosses her arms, trying to make herself look more awake than she actually is. Even half asleep, she’s more than willing to put her stubbornness to use to wait him out.

It's not a good idea for Hoffman to leave. Right now he's a wanted man. Every time he leaves Shepard's apartment is an opportunity for someone to recognize him and call the cops. If he wants to go out and risk himself, Shepard at least needs to know why he's doing it.

“Fine,” he relents after a good minute of silence. She makes his way towards the couch, putting his parka down over the top of it. “They took in some of the stuff from my place for evidence. I’m going to get my things back. Now go back to bed.”

“You want me to go to bed when you just told me that you’re about to go break into a police station so that you can get your stuff back?”

“Shepard.”

“Hoffman.”

“Just go back to sleep and pretend that this didn’t happen,” he instructs.

“Absolutely not,” Shepard replies. “You can’t seriously be planning on breaking into a police station on your own.”

“I snuck into plenty of places I wasn’t supposed to be and kidnapped people, I’m pretty sure I can handle getting into the place where I used to work to get something. You don’t need to worry about this,” Hoffman says.

“Yeah, I do, because on the off chance that you get caught, I’m gonna be upset about that,” Shepard objects. She steps closer, making her way across the living room until there’s only about a foot between her and Hoffman. “If you’re gonna do this, at least let me come with you. I can help or something.”

“It’s not a good idea to help me break into a police station,” Hoffman states.

“Well, yeah, no shit. But it’s also probably not a good idea for me to have saved you and brought you to my house when you’re wanted for killing like fifty people, and here we are,” Shepard replies.

Hoffman looks at her with an all too familiar frown. He’s trying to figure out what the ulterior motive is here. Believing that someone would genuinely want to help him is hard, so he needs to find some other reason Shepard would want to help, some explanation for why she keeps going out of her way for the benefit of someone that anyone else would probably hate.

Shepard doesn’t know if she has an ulterior motive here either. Maybe that would make this better. So she searches for something she could say that might get Hoffman to stop staring at her like he’s trying to search her soul for any sign of what she’s up to.

“Look, you’ve lost pretty much everything. If there’s something that’s so important to you that’s in that station that you’re gonna risk yourself for it, I’m gonna help you try to get it. Especially considering that if you get caught, odds are I’m gonna be getting in trouble too for hiding you here. If I can make it less likely for you to be arrested for breaking into a police station of all things, I’m gonna do it. So just give me a second to change, and I can come with you,” Shepard says. 

That’s enough for Hoffman. He grabs his parka from the top of the couch, putting it on. “Alright. Get dressed quick. Then we’ll go.”

Shepard’s role in Hoffman’s heist turns out to be the getaway driver. It’s probably for the best that her job is to sit in the car and be ready to go when he gets out. If something goes wrong, they’ll need to move quickly, and her being there would help more than both of them having to scramble to get into the car. She’s not next to the police station— that would be too suspicious. Instead her car’s parked in the parking lot of the post office across the street, positioned so she has a good view of the station. 

As she keeps an eye out, Shepard hopes that everything is going well on Hoffman’s end. She hates to admit it, but she’s grown to like him in the time they’ve spent together. She probably likes him more than she should. But one thing that she’s more willing to admit is that she’s lonely, and having someone in the house with her has been nice. For once she feels a little bit less alone. 

It’s still difficult to get Hoffman to talk about anything personal, but she’s pretty sure the two of them have bonded. She’s learned he likes painting, and that he enjoys cheesy action movies. He likes his coffee with a vanilla flavored creamer, and she knows how to make a pretty damn good chicken souvlaki from memory even if he stumbles over just about every other recipe. 

Sometimes it feels agonizingly domestic for Shepard to come home and see Hoffman waiting there on the couch, mindlessly surfing channels for something to watch. She tries not to think too much about that. She’s too old to be having a crush, and certainly not on Hoffman of all people. He’s only with her because he has to be. She found him, and she’s the only thing that’s keeping him safe from being caught and brought in by the police. She’s sure that if by some miracle his name was cleared, he’d be long gone by now. 

Shepard knows that she’s partially helping Hoffman with this for selfish reasons. As much as she thinks he deserves to have some things with him from before his life fell to pieces, she also wants to make sure he’s not caught. The thought of staying behind and waking up to never see him again makes a pit form in her stomach that she thinks could devour her whole. 

This is a bad idea. Everything from the moment that she decided to let Hoffman shelter with her has been a bad idea. But Shepard follows through anyway, she tries to find a way to make things work. It’s what she does best. 

Shepard sees Hoffman across the street after what must have been thirty minutes. The hood of his parka is still pulled over his head, and he’s holding something in his arms. It’s hard to tell at first how dark it is but as he gets closer to the car, she can see that he’s moving quickly. 

Shepard unlocks the doors as he gets close. Hoffman all but throws himself into the car with a soft grunt. 

“Did you get everything?” she asks.

“Not everything,” he replies. “But it’s better to leave some of my things behind. At least then they might be able to pass things off as getting lost due to a clerical error or something.”

Now illuminated by the lights inside her car, Shepard can see the thing in his arm is what looks like a photo album and a couple of books. In his other hand is a nice looking brown duffel bag, which he’s quick to put in the back row. As he does, he shifts his weight and something falls from the photo album. 

“You dropped something,” Shepard points out, motioning with her head towards where the photo fell. 

“Shit,” he mumbles. He pulls down the hood of his parka with one hand, leaning down and reaching to pick up the picture with his other one. 

Shepard’s sure that some of the things that Hoffman grabbed were essentials and things like clothes, but she has to admit she’s curious about what could be so sentimentally valuable enough in this photo album for him to be willing to risk his life and freedom. So as he picks up the picture, pulling it towards his lap, she can’t help but sneak a glance at it.

The picture looks pretty old, taken well over ten years ago if Shepard’s guessing. It’s easy to recognize Hoffman, even if he looked different back when he was in what looks to be his mid-thirties. His hair was shorter, and he used to have a bit of stubble. He doesn’t have the jagged scar cutting from the right corner of his mouth up to his ear, with this taking place long before the reverse bear trap tore his cheek open. He was thinner then too, with a slimmer build highlighted by the gray suit he’s wearing and the sharp square shape of his jaw. But he has the same icy blue eyes, the same distractingly full, pink lips.

The woman in the picture is harder to recognize, but Shepard can piece bits together from context clues. She has the same eyes as Hoffman, and the same dark hair, though hers has a bit of a curl to it. She’s about the same height as him, with pale skin and a bit of red lipstick that stands out well in comparison to the black graduation robes she’s wearing. She looks young too, like she’s in her early twenties at most. 

This has to be a picture of Hoffman and his sister at her college graduation. They look to have a pretty significant age difference, but there’s enough of a resemblance there to tell they have to be related.

Shepard can see why he was so determined to get this back. There are more conclusions that she can jump to when she notes how he’s never once mentioned any kind of family. 

Hoffman’s also quick to put the picture away again, tucking it within the pocket of his coat rather than back in the photo album.  

“We should go,” he says. “Quickly.”

“Right.”

Shepard starts the car, the engine humming to life. As she pulls out of the parking spot, she realizes that she forgot to turn the radio back on. The drive home through the dark is a silent one, and that gives her mind space to wander. 

If the girl in the picture is Hoffman’s sister, she has to be dead. Clearly this picture is important to him, so the two of them must have been close. She’s sure he would have mentioned a sister in the time they’ve been together if she was still around. Maybe he would have wanted to see her, maybe he would have mentioned something about how she’d be involved in the investigation. There would have been something, though, and this is the first time that Shepard’s ever gotten even a hint of him having family.

Shepard doesn’t know if she should ask Hoffman about it or not. On one hand, he probably hadn’t meant for her to see that picture. But now that she knows he has a sister, she can’t help but be curious, especially when she's already indulged in her curiousity a couple of times tonight. 

She spends a couple of minutes debating in her head what to do. She doesn’t think there’s any right answer. But with no music on, her desire not to spend the entire fifteen minute drive home in silence wins out.

“What’s her name?” Shepard asks.

Hoffman looks at her out of the corner of his eyes. “What?” 

“Your sister, in that picture that fell out earlier. What’s her name?”

Hoffman’s quiet. That’s about the way that Shepherd expected him to respond. If he ignores the question, that’s fine with her, but at least she’ll have tried to sate her curiosity and fill the silence. 

“It was Angelina,” he says eventually.

“Pretty name,” Shepard comments. She wants to ask more, but she also knows not to push her luck. 

“It was fitting for her,” Hoffman agrees. He’s quiet for a bit before he says, “Her boyfriend killed her.”

“Oh.”

Shepard’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s never been good at comforting people, people in her family didn’t talk about emotions. The psychology classes she took in college are enough to make it so she knows at least somewhat how to talk to people in crisis, but she’s pretty sure that things are different with Hoffman. He doesn’t seem like the type to want to try to dig deeper into things. That would probably only lead to him shutting down more.

So she keeps her eyes locked on the road ahead. If he wants to say more, he will.

And, as they pull to a stop at a red light, he does.

“She would have liked you,” he states.

Shepard turns to look at him. “Yeah?”

“She was kind. Too kind for her own good. Always fighting for some cause or another, always trying to find the good in every shitty situation that she was in. She thought that she could make the world a better place, and despite everything, I believed that she could.”

As Shepard listens to Hoffman speak, she realizes this is the first time that she’s ever heard what she can only describe as love in his voice. There’s an unmistakable fondness to the way he describes his sister, unlike anything that she’s heard from him before. 

She ignores how she wishes that he would describe her with such an adoring tone to his voice. Thinking about things like that is always wrong, but it especially is now when he’s talking about his dead sister. 

Instead she pushes her foot against the gas as the light turns green. 

“She was better than I am,” Hoffman says after a moment. “Smarter too. She actually wanted to go back to school once she had some more money. She was gonna go to med school, become a doctor.”

“That’s a sweet thing to want to do. She must have liked helping people,” Shepard comments. 

He nods, features illuminated by the streetlights outside. His lips are pressed into a thin line. “She did. Probably too much.”

A silence comes over them again. It’s not hard for Shepard to guess what he meant, not with the knowledge that her boyfriend killed her. She probably thought that she could have helped him.

Angelina deserved so much better. And as much as Shepard wants to say that, she’s sure that she doesn’t have to tell Hoffman. If there’s anyone who understands how much more she deserved, it’s no doubt her brother who clearly still adores her. 

“I told you before I was blackmailed into joining up with John,” Hoffman says after a moment, half like he’s asking if she remembers that. 

“Yeah.”

“He blackmailed me because I killed the asshole who killed Angelina, and framed Jigsaw for it.”

Shepard’s not sure how to respond to that. 

She doesn’t think anyone deserves death, no matter how terrible of a thing they did. But she can’t say that she pities the man who killed Angelina. A part of her that she doesn’t like is glad that Hoffman killed him, and she pushes that feeling aside like she always does.

There’s no glory in vengeance. But Shepard certainly won’t be crying over an abuser’s death. 

“Fuck him,” Shepard says.

“Fuck him,” Hoffman agrees. And as she looks at him, she swears that she sees a tear trailing down his face. 

Shepard realizes that she doesn’t think that she’s ever seen Hoffman cry before. It makes her heart ache, and it makes her want to reach over with one hand to try to offer him some comfort that no words could.

But Shepard doesn’t want to push too far. The two of them have gotten closer, but it’s always hard for her to tell how close she is with someone. So she lets them take the lead, lets them show her what she can do for them to be sure she never oversteps. If Hoffman wants comfort, he would tell her. So instead she keeps her hands on the wheel, glancing towards him one last time and wishing that she could find the words to tell him that she would gladly help him with anything if he just asked.

The rest of the ride home is quiet. Shepard tries not to let her mind wander to Hoffman, but it’s hard not to think about him. She knows she needs to keep things normal between them. Still, the thought of holding him in her arms and telling him that she’ll be here for him through anything is a tempting one. 

She pulls into the parking lot of her apartment after another couple of minutes of forcing herself not to acknowledge her feelings about Hoffman. They move quickly back up to her apartment, Hoffman’s arms loaded with his books while Shepard takes the duffel bag. Part of her is surprised they managed to make it back without issue. It feels like breaking into a police station should have been harder than that, like they should have the police on their tail, ready to come and take Hoffman away. But as she closes the door behind them, she lets herself let out a sigh of relief that they made it home with seemingly no one the wiser. 

Shepard puts the duffel bag down by the couch, glancing over to Hoffman where he’s putting the books in his arms down on the coffee table. 

“That didn’t go too badly,” Shepard says.

“Not so far. But don’t start resting on your laurels yet. If they notice things missing, they’re gonna be looking into things,” Hoffman says.

“Right.” 

She had figured the same, but she hoped at least a little positivity might help. It’s hard to muster any more than that, though. By now it’s getting close to four in the morning and she can feel what energy she had from the sudden wake up and rush of helping Hoffman with his break in running out. 

Shepard shrugs off her coat, putting it away in the closet. She needs to get some sleep. Worrying about her choices here is something that she can do in the morning. But now that they’ve made it back, she needs rest. 

“Shepard,” Hoffman says, and there’s something different about the way he says her name. 

“Yeah?”

When she turns around, he’s closer than she would have expected. There’s not much space between them, so it’s easy for him to close the distance with a hand placed on her hip. Shepard forces herself not to stare at his lips, instead looking up to where Hoffman’s eyes are locked on her. 

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he promises. His voice is always low, but now it’s even lower, half a whisper. 

Part of Shepard thinks she probably should tell him to stop. This is a bad idea. Falling for a man that she’s known for two months isn’t like her, and falling for a serial killer of all things is even less like her. 

But she wants to kiss Hoffman. So she’s the one to close the distance between them, her lips meeting his. They’re just as soft as she had imagined they’d be, but she hardly has a second to think that before Hoffman’s pulling her closer, one hand still on her hip and the other wrapping around her shoulders. She responds with an arm wrapped around his middle and a hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. 

Hoffman kisses like a man starved. His nose bumps against Shepard’s, and the way his lips move against hers is rough, like he’s hungry for every bit of affection he can get for her. Shepard is glad to reciprocate, glad to feel wanted in a way that she so rarely does. There’s a rush that goes through her that no words can describe, and part of her wants to be able to feel this way forever. 

But the kiss can’t last forever. And when Shepard and Hoffman break apart, she’s breathing a little heavier, having trouble thinking about anything but how his lips look even pinker after locking with hers. 

“That was good,” Shepard says. 

Hoffman makes a noise that’s not quite a laugh. “It was.”

“We should do that more.”

“We should. Maybe next time over a dinner date.”

“I don’t know how well that would work out considering we just got back from breaking into a police station for you to get your belongings that they confiscated,” Shepard points out. 

“You’re smart, you could figure something out. That or we get takeout,” Hoffman says. 

“Sounds good.” Shepard reaches up to toy with a bit of his hair. It’s soft to the touch, and his grasp on her hip tightens as the strands brush between her fingers. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“It’s a date,” he promises. 

Hoffman leans forward for another kiss, this one shorter and softer but no less intoxicating. Shepard knows that she should go to bed, her body is all but screaming at her to go get some rest, but she can’t help but want to stay just a little longer with him. 

“I should go back to sleep. Both of us should,” Shepard says, half to herself and half to Hoffman.

“Probably,” Hoffman agrees.

“But you’re gonna have to let go of me for us to do that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you went to bed with me.”

“I… I don’t think we should yet,” Shepard says. She’s not flustered— she almost never is— but sleeping with Hoffman right now in any sense feels too intimate. 

She doesn’t want to rush things, even if he is inviting her into his bed. It’s been a while since she’s been in a relationship, and for now she wants to pretend that everything happening between them is normal and paced like any other relationship would be. Still, the thought of snuggling up to Hoffman in bed is one that sticks with her, an echo of the fantasies she had sometimes at night that she’s always told herself is wrong to think about.

“Alright,” Hoffman says. He squeezes her hip with one hand with just enough pressure to feel grounding. “But we can sleep together whenever you want.”

“Okay.” Shepard nods. 

It’s quiet for a minute. Hoffman’s eyes are distractingly blue and it’s hard to focus on much other than them. But right now the thought of going to her bed and getting some sleep is a tempting one, so Shepard moves her hand from Hoffman’s hair to instead cup his right cheek, one finger tracing gently over the scar there. 

“I, um. Good night,” she says.

“Night,” Hoffman says. He steps away, towards where Shepard put down his duffel bag. For a second Shepard thinks that he’s going to leave it at that before he takes the bag, looking over his shoulder as he gets closer to the bedroom. Then he says, “Sleep well.”

Shepard can’t help but give a smile at that. “Thanks. You too.”

Hoffman nods, and there’s something softer than Shepard’s ever seen in his eyes as he gives her one last look. Then he makes his way into his room, leaving Shepard on her own again.

This half feels like a dream. It’s deep enough into the night that it could be. But as she looks at the books sitting on the coffee table, she knows that all of this was real.

She and Hoffman have a date for tomorrow. They just kissed, and he told her that she could come to bed with him if she wanted. 

As far as late night wake ups go, this one is certainly one of the best Shepard’s had. She makes her way to her room feeling light despite her exhaustion. And as she gets ready for bed, she thinks maybe tonight she’ll allow herself to indulge in the fantasy of cuddling under the blankets with Hoffman. 

#selfship fic #selfshipping #safeship #selfship #safeshipping #🧩 #🧩 missing piece #🗝️ shepard #my posts #my writing

[wonyz02]

bubba~

you like kissing and jay finally gets to know what it feels like to kiss you. possibly a little more as well.

excessive bubba and baby calling, mentions of alcohol, and shower sex.

his eyes were glued to you the second you came out that door. feeling the pang in his heart as you giggled drunkly. wrapping your arms around heeseung one more time before giving him one last kiss.

jay cleared his throat, turning around when he noticed that you were making your way to him. pretending to be oblivious to the little make out session you had with his hyung. same with the last two.

“i’ll take that.” you smiled, snatching his full cup out of his hand. “why do you come to every party if you just stand there jay? loosen up.” you told him every time he was at parties.

“i can’t do that. i’m the designated driver.” he said lowly, pushing the cup you’d raised to his lips away. jay never really came to party. as much as it hurt, he came with you to see who you would kiss with next.

“we’ll uber! come on, jay.” your attempts always failed with jay. he’d shake his head and sit down in a corner. jay would have the most unreadable expression on his face but nonetheless, he let you party as long as you wanted.

you sighed, watching him so sit in the corner all alone. “fine.” so you finished the cup before making way to your other friends. occasionally turning around to see if jongseong was still there.

every time you looked, he’d be sitting there patiently. you felt bad at first but it was his choice.

your eyebrows furrowed when you turned around and saw him speaking to a girl. wanting to laugh at her obvious flirting and jay’s oblivious face. it wasn’t until jay began laughing with her that you had become a little upset.

“if you’re so jealous just go over there.” you heard sunoo say. turning around and scoffing. “i’m not jealous. if anything, good for him. he’s having fun.”

-

“jayyy~” you slurred, giggling as the older struggled to keep you on your feet. “jay-ah.” you called out to him over and over.

“come on, y/n. i need you to try and walk.” jay was, once again, bringing you home to his apartment. drunk you was a hassle but jay never complained. mostly because you were always so sweet to him when you were drunk.

“jayyy~. let’s go back! i wanna party.” you pouted, which most people would find annoying, but jay found it endearing. your arms were around his neck, trying to keep yourself on your feet.

“that’s enough for today. now we have to keep quiet okay? we can’t wake up the neighbors.” he held his index fingers up to his lips, insinuating that you should keep your voice down in the corridor.

“shhhh.” you nodded, whispering little complaints about how you missed your friends and the ‘amazing’ party.

-

“yes, y/n you can see jungwonnie again tomorrow.” jay has so much patience when it comes to you. taking off your heels as you began getting comfortable under his sheets.

”we’re gonna see our jungwonnie tomorrow.” you mumbled, falling asleep instantly. leaving jay alone in his thoughts. he sat down on the corner of his bed, watching you sleep.

”our?” he could only smile as a single tear rolled down his cheek. shaking his head as he removed his own shoes. laying down next to you after. he didn’t know how to feel…you had been kissing someone and now you’re laying on his bed. giving him false hope again.

-

the next time jay is awoken was at 5:37 am. you were puking in his bathroom. he was quick to be by your side, holding your hair and rubbing your back. “come on, let it all out y/n.”

who knows what you’d done in your past life to get someone as amazing as jay. you were grateful.

when you finished, you were panting. one of your hands had a light grip on jay’s shirt as he moved the hairs that were sticking to your sweaty forehead. “wait here. i’m gonna go get you some water, kay’?”

as much as you didn’t wanna let him go, you nodded. brushing your teeth as he went to get you the glass of water to quench your thirst. “here.” when you took the glass he watched you with concern.

”feel better?” he asked, sighing when you shook your head. “what do you need?” jay was so tired but of course you came first. though tonight wasn’t gonna be like he expected.

“jay-ah.” you wrapped your arms around his waist. laying your head on his shoulder. “i feel sticky…i wanna shower.” you whined, only to receive a small pat on the back.

”let me get you some clothes. hop in the shower and i’ll leave it on the counter.” jay said, about to open the door. until he felt you began to lift up his shirt. “y/n, what are you doing?”

”i wanna shower with you.” you were sober enough to know what you were doing. “can you unzip me, please?” it was as if this was a daily thing. you didn’t seem to care that you’d be showering with jay for the first time.

”no, i’ll shower in the morning.” but the older was already unzipping your dress enough for you to slip out of it. he didn’t expect you to drop the dress to the floor before he had the chance to exit the bathroom. eyes widening when he saw the purple undergarments you were wearing.

”please? i don’t wanna be alone.” those doe eyes you gave him always got you what you wanted. including now, watching jay nod slowly as he removed his shirt. his eyes were glued to the wall as he avoided your body.

you turned on the water before removing your last pieces of clothing, getting in first. “hurry, jayy~” you said, feeling your muscles relax under the water. when the older stepped in, he couldn’t help but feel shy at the way you eyed his body up and down.

jay really tried to pretend like he wasn’t affected by your naked frame either. tried. but his flushed face gave him away. stepping under the water as you began shampooing your hair.

”bend down a little.” you said, smiling at the way his eyes were shut but he listened to you either way. letting you wash his hair along with yours. the two of you stood under the water after you were finished showering. neither of you wanted to get away from each other yet.

you were the first to wrap your arms around him, hugging him as the warm water coated both of your naked bodies. nuzzling into him when he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

jay was freaking out to say the least but he felt too relaxed to show it. it felt so nice having you in his arms under the warm water and steam. he didn’t give it much thought. both of your hands beginning to caress each other lightly.

”i’m sleepy.” you said, your voice soft as you looked up at jay. he looked so good with his hair wet. eyes landing on his lips. “we should get out then.” he hummed.

”not yet.” you said, taking a hold of his face before leaning up to place a small kiss on his lips. opening your eyes to him staring at you with that concerned expression he always wore. “i wanna kiss you instead.”

as much as jay wanted to tell you to stop and sleep on it (and he’d kiss you if you wanted when you were in the correct mindset). he nodded, he wanted to kiss you finally. for it to be his turn to finally feel your lips on his.

after his nod you pulled him down again, kissing him longer. the kiss remained soft but both your hands were exploring again. jays hands caressed your back and hips. yours interlaced themselves in his hair.

the sounds of your kissing was a little louder than the sound of the water hitting the floor. “jay.” you mumbled against his lips, feeling your core began to grow hot.

he knew what you were trying to tell him, hands grabbing the back of your thighs. “jump.” he said, pulling away as he placed your back against the wall. holding you up against it before beginning to kiss down your neck.

you let out small hums as he kissed any where he could reach. his hands busy holding you up. “jay, kiss me.” you were breathless, begging him to place his lips on yours again.

jay didn’t have to be told twice, smashing his lips against yours. your teeth clashing together for a second before the two of you found a pace you enjoyed. “bubba. please, i want you so bad.”

that pet name always made jay’s stomach fill with butterflies. you would call him that jokingly after he called it cute. but hearing you say it in this scenario was different.

”are you sure? sleep on it and if you want to when you wake up i-“

you hit him with the doe eyes again, “but i want you now, jay.” your legs wrapping themselves around his waist.

jay made eye contact with you as he lifted you up a little more to let you slid down on his length. he let out a shaky breath. watching your expression as he slid inside you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth hanging open.

”baby…” the both of you took a second to take in how both of you felt. his forehead landing on yours. “can i move?” he asked, pecking your lips over and over.

you nodded slowly, holding onto him tightly. “bubba, the hot water is running out.” you said, your voice getting shaky. the two of you were beginning to let out low moans. his thrusts were slow and passionate at first.

”i know, baby. we’ll be quick.” he reassured you, his thrusts becoming a little faster. everything was becoming louder; your moans, the skin slapping, his panting…the sound of the water hitting the floor drowning out.

”ah. ah-“ you were bouncing on jay, breasts bouncing in front of jays face. he couldn’t help but take one of your nipples in between his lips. not knowing how sensitive they were. “jay! babe, please! please go faster.”

jay wanted your first time to be soft and slow but you were begging so nicely. his hips snapping quicker against yours. finally letting your nipple go, “baby, you can’t be so loud. it’s late.” he whispered in your ear.

”but it feels so good! fuck.” you were too loud for it to be six a.m. “y/n, please keep it down.” jay’s forehead laid against yours again. threatening to shut you up with his own lips.

”i can’t!” so jay, of course, had to take care of it before he got a noise complaint. once again, returning to kissing you. “close. i’m so close, jay.” your words were muffled but the scratching at his back and your clenching pussy let him know.

“cum, baby. it’s okay.” he said quickly, removing his lips for a second before returning to kiss you again. he felt your warm liquid coat his dick but he didn’t stop. instead, he set you down before turning you around. your red cheek smushed against the wet walls of the shower.

this position let jay hit a spot that you didn’t know could send you into a frenzy. “jay! fuck, please don’t stop.” thankfully jay was holding onto you because if he wasn’t you’d probably be on the floor right now. your legs were trembling.

”i’m coming, y/n.” jay knew he shouldn’t finish inside you without your permission so he pulled out quickly. holding you with one arm around your waist and the other leaning down to let you cum again.

jay’s panting and his grunt was what sent you over the edge. letting clear liquid coat his hand; you had squirted because of jay. your legs had completely given out on you, falling back onto his chest. “jay…”

”you’re okay, y/n.” he didn’t forget to wash the two of you off again. holding you and kissing the top of your head the whole time.

he was so focused on taking care of you that he hasn’t had the time to freak out. placing you on the bathroom counter after wrapping a towel around you. “close your eyes, baby.” hopefully you’d let him continue to call you that.

you listened, feeling him began to wash your face with his foam cleanser. he was so sweet. your arms wrapping themselves around his waist again. it was so quiet other than the sound of him washing your face.

the more quiet it got, the more jay wondered if all the other guys you’d kissed did this for you. or have wanted to continue with you like he did. but his thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly puckered your lips.

you kept your lips puckered as you waited for jay to kiss your bubble covered lips. letting a small giggle when he placed a shy peck on your lips. “so cute, jongseong.”

”stop playing around, y/n.” he said, feeling his face grow hot.

when the two of you finished getting dressed you laid besides each other. you had no shame as plopped yourself on top of him. “bubba…” you tested the waters, wanting to see his reaction. and you got what you wanted.

”hmm?” his eyes were closed as he rested his head on his arm. his free hand rubbing up and down your back.

”nothing, just wanted to see if you were sleeping…”

-

the two of you left it at that. you were awaken at almost three p.m with jay’s movement. “where are you going?” you asked, pouting when you felt his hands leave your waist.

”bathroom.” he smiled, watching you nod before returning to the position you were in. when he came out he found you sitting up. waiting for him with your arms open.

”i’m hungry.” you said, smiling when jay let himself fall on top of you. wrapping all your limbs around him.

he laughed when he heard your stomach rumble, looking down at you with those sparkly eyes of his. “what do you feel like eating, baby?” he asked. he figured if you were being so clingy it was because you wanted him to do that same(?).

”pancakes.” the reply was so quick that it made jay smile even wider. leaning down to kiss your forehead before standing up. leaving you spread out like a starfish on his bed. “then i’ll go make the princess her pancakes.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling. “one more.” you said, trailing behind him with your lips puckered. you seemed to like kissing(?) and so did jay. “there. no more for you~.” he teased after placing a long peck on your lips.

“you have to do with the princess says, bubba.” you winked, watching jay malfunction for a second. “yeah yeah…are you feeling better? cause you’re walking fine now.” he looked like he was on the verge of laughing at you but then his expression became concerned again.

”mhm. i feel good.” you were so clingly. backhugging him as he prepared the two of you breakfast. now that jay thought about it, today wasn’t that different from any other day…you know besides the kissing. you were always this sweet to him.

-end-

-extra-

“jayyy~ my oh so beautiful, handsome, pretty, sexy boyfriend. let’s do it.” you whined, your drunk giggles echoing in the lobby of the apartment complex. “please, i’ll be so good for you babe~.” you proposed, watching as jay apologized to the people in the lobby about your behavior.

”baby, you can’t say that stuff around people.” he nagged in the elevator. watching as you crossed your arms, “how about we go to bed and then if you want to do it tomorrow we can do it as long as you want?”

as much as jay adored you, he was not in the mood for sex after he watch jake throw up all over sunoo at the party. god the image was…nevermind.

”okay, deal!” you said, feeling jay throw you over his shoulder. “bubba, your butt is so big. i wanna bite-“ enough. drunk you was so unfiltered but jay found it amusing.

”if you go to bed right now then i’ll think about it.” he said, smiling as he laid you down on the bed. watching you send him a wink that let him know that you were in the mood. he shook his head, laughing. “come on, babe. go to bed.”

”i would be offended that you’re not feeling me right now but i’m sleepy.” you said, letting him take off your heels. you made space for him to lay next to you, cuddling up to him instantly.

”i’m always feeling you, baby.” jay’s flirting had become another level when the two of you began officially dating.

“i miss our jungwonnie. we’re adopting him jungwon.” your words were sudden and slurred as you laid your head on jay’s chest. feeling his chest rising up and down with light laughter.

“we’re not adopting jungwon, y/n.”

“why not?”

”we can’t.”

”watch me.”

#jay smut #jay scenarios #jay imagines #jay oneshots #jay enhypen #jay enha #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen smut

[ifmywishescametrue]

a stevetony prompt for one of my favorite writers! stevetony + "“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?" :)

thanks for sending this! hope you like it :)

dip you in honey

1.6k words, stevetony getting together

Steve likes to think he understands Tony these days. It took a while to get there, but after a year of being forced acquaintances and another two of actually being friends, Steve knows him well. 

He knows that Sunday mornings are for hot chocolate and all his own sweatshirts relocate to Tony's closet by mid-December each year. Pens are better than pencils, ballpoint is better than gel, and sharpies are perfect for writing jokes on the back of Steve's hand in the middle of class. He knows that a soft smile is the prettiest look on Tony's face and that I’m fine means I’m falling apart. 

With all of that knowledge, Tony still manages to throw him for a loop at least once a week.

“Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?”

Tony rolls his head to the side, opening his eyes to look towards Steve in the doorway. “I’m not naked. I’m wearing a towel.”

He gestures down at his body, and Steve’s gaze automatically follows where the hand leads. The towel might as well be a washcloth for all it covers, starting just below his belly button and stopping less than a foot lower. Steve swallows hard and lifts his eyes from the display of tanned skin and toned thighs. 

It doesn’t help that he looks at home in Steve’s bed. His head is nestled on Steve’s pillows, hair billowed out across the gray cotton. Steve wonders if he’ll smell honey on them later, lingering there from some brand of expensive shampoo that's worth every penny for the softness it leaves behind. 

Steve takes another step into his room and deposits his backpack on the floor next to his desk. Tony's is already there, looking anemic next to Steve's overstuffed one. Steve knows there's only three items in it – a tattered notebook, a nearly empty pack of gum, and a single pen. 

Tony's watching him when Steve looks back to him. He slides over, expression turning to a grin as he says, “Care to join me?” 

“Care to explain yourself?” Steve counters, already crossing the room. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the bed, back half-propped against the wall. His arm just barely touches Tony's, until Tony moves in a little closer to press them together from shoulder to hand. 

This close, Steve can see every freckle on Tony's skin. He follows a crooked line of them with his eyes, down Tony's chest and across his stomach until they disappear beneath a towel Steve recognizes now as one of his own. 

He frowns and asks, “Did you shower here?”

Tony nods, “Your place was closer than mine.”

“That explains nothing. You know that, right?”

Tony smiles, turning onto his side to face Steve, and a wave of citrus scented air floats over. Steve's shampoo, then. Disappointment settles in for just a second that his sheets won't smell like Tony at all, before he realizes that Tony smells like him instead. 

Then he remembers that friends shouldn't care about that kind of thing at all. 

He's been trying to do better at that lately. Pushing down his feelings and pretending they don't exist. It's hard with how often Tony's around, and even when he isn't there, he makes his way into Steve's mind all the time. 

Sometimes he wishes he could go back to the way it used to be, back when Tony was just Nat's girlfriend's friend and they barely spoke. It was easier then, before Tony's laugh became his favorite sound. But he could never erase Tony from his life, even if it means always wanting what he can't have.

Steve bites his lip, and he decidedly doesn’t look at the way Tony’s hand gestures make his muscles move as he tells the story of how he ended up here. It starts with some accident in the lab during his class with chemicals that should never have been mixed, half-ruined clothes with newfound stains, and an unexpected rainstorm on his way here to top it all off. It’s all very classic Tony, one near disaster after the next. 

“I thought you would’ve been home, though,” Tony says, absentmindedly fiddling with the strings on Steve’s hoodie. “Bucky let me in, took one look at me, and shoved me in the bathroom. He said I wasn’t allowed to drip on the furniture, which is so rude, but at least he put my clothes in the wash for me.”

Steve laughs, “He knows you might break the machine if he lets you touch it.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but there's a grin on his face. “A man uses fabric softener instead of detergent one time and no one lets it go.”

“You bleached one of my hoodies, too, and shrunk your favorite sweater.”

“I've told you a million times, I wanted it to be a crop top. It's called fashion, Steven.”

“Liar,” Steve says, tone seeped with too much fondness that he can't quite control. “Still doesn't explain what you're doing in my bed, though.”

“Where else would I be?”

“Well, there’s a couch, two chairs, and a beanbag in the living room. Bucky also has a bed, and he was already here,” Steve says, and Tony’s nose wrinkles. Steve taps it with the tip of his finger, just to make it scrunch up some more. Tony bats his hand away with a laugh and says, “I was waiting for you to come back.”

Steve’s pretty sure his heart rhythm falters at that. He looks away, down towards the end of the bed where Tony’s ankle is hooked over his. “You could’ve taken some clothes for yourself. Both of us know you’re an unrepentant thief, anyway.”

Tony rolls onto his stomach, side pressed against Steve's and his chin propped in his hand. He has a familiar kind of mischief in his dark eyes, and the slight curl from the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. Steve never knows what's coming next when he looks like that. But he does know that the towel around Tony's waist is dangerously close to coming undone.

“You don’t want me naked in your bed, waiting for you to come home to me?”

Steve stops breathing for a few seconds. “Um, I – what?”

Tony tilts his head and looks at him like Steve is a riddle he’s trying to solve. Steve hopes he’ll tell him when he figures it out. 

Tony nudges him with his foot, bare toes against Steve’s sock-covered ones. “Answer the question,” he says. 

“I – I’m not sure I should.” 

Tony smiles, a soft thing that Steve would normally adore if he could think properly. His gaze flickers down, then up again to meet Steve’s. “I didn’t really plan this, for the record. I mean, I had every intention of just stealing your clothes when I came in here, and you were never going to get them back. But then, well, I had this thought of what might happen if I just – didn’t. Because sometimes I think you might like me, and sometimes I don’t know at all, and I thought maybe you’d look. Maybe you’d roll your eyes when you saw me here and it’d be just a joke, but maybe you’d look at me and I’d know.”

“And what do you know?” Steve asks in a whisper. 

“I know that you stared a lot longer than just a friend would,” Tony says, voice just as quiet. “And then you tried to hide it so I wouldn’t notice. But I guess there’s a flaw in this not-quite-a-plan.”

“What’s that?”

Tony pulls the corner of his lip between his teeth. “Well, I still don’t know if you feel the same way that I do. I know you think I’m attractive, but that’s a little different from the rest, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is.”

Steve still can’t quite think. But he knows that Tony’s beautiful and Steve loves him and it’s all the same in his mind, so he asks, “How so?”

Tony huffs a laugh, amusement making his eyes brighten. “Because you either want to fuck me and not talk about it again or you never want to let me go. But you could help a guy out, you know. Tell me what you’re thinking. A demonstration works, too, if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t ask another question, then?” Steve teases, and Tony shoves his shoulder with a grin. 

“You’re making this love confession feel like psychological torture.”

There goes his heart rhythm again. One word, and it skips a beat.

“I don’t think it counts as a love confession if you haven’t actually said it,” he says. “Love implication, really.”

“Don’t make me take it back before I even say it.”

Steve smiles, and he reaches out to touch Tony’s cheek. Slowly, just in case Tony changes his mind. He runs his thumb across Tony’s jawline, down to his chin, then up to skim across his bottom lip. Warm breath passes over his skin as Tony sighs softly. He relaxes into Steve’s touch, eyelids fluttering just before they close entirely. 

Steve leans in, and now there’s another list of things he knows about Tony. How soft his lips are, parting easily for Steve’s, and how his hands feel like they belong twisted in Steve’s hair. He sounds like an angel when he whispers Steve’s name between one kiss and the next, and he tastes like heaven on Steve’s tongue. The words I love you make Tony smile against Steve’s lips, and Steve knows it’s true when he says it back.

He counts the three seconds it takes Tony to open his eyes when they part, and he runs his fingers over Tony’s chest to learn the feeling of his heartbeat beneath them. It’s as fast as his own. 

“You never did answer my question,” Tony says, resting his chin on Steve’s sternum. 

Steve laughs as he wraps his arms around him. “Sweetheart, you can wait naked in my bed for me anytime.”

#stevetony #my writing #stony #my fic #prompt fill #stevetony fic

[always-andromeda]

xiii. sound of a love song | Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Word Count | 5,476

Summary | Ready to give him a piece of your mind, you and Joby make a lot of startling revelations.

Author’s Note | buckle yourselves up, friends. that's all I gotta say about this one. also gonna be ghosting for a few hours after posting this! maybe send me asks on what y'all think of the chapter for me to read afterwards? (don't make me beg......pretty please)

Warnings | bits of fluff, smut (MDNI), and fighting (the best combination lmao), unprotected sex, overstimulation, nothing else I can think of!

You slammed the hotel room door behind you and kept your hand on the knob. Though you weren't looking, you heard the squeak of springs as Joby plunked down on the bed.

For every aggravating thing he'd done in the time you'd known him, it was almost comical that it was that little sound that set off the time bomb in your head. Your ears perked up as you listened to him unzip the sides of his boots, sliding them off and setting them to the side. Then you could feel his stare hitting your back, practically burning a hole in his jacket.

Somehow, through the anger, you hadn't thought to take it off; hadn't even imagined the moment where you'd have to shed this second skin and lose another layer of his comfort.

"I assume you have something to say." Joby finally states blankly. You can already hear the indifference. And it makes you furious. Just that morning it was all about ‘we’. He was begging for a morning kiss. Reaching for you in bed like he was going to actually hold you in the light of day. That tiny, unfathomable ‘we’ tied you to him in a way that made so much sense, yet, it drove you absolutely insane.

“What...the fuck...was that?” Your demand was frank, wrought with the control you needed over the situation.

You thought back to that night in your apartment. From the beginning, he had made his intentions crystal clear. If anything, you were the fool for sticking around so long, believing he could resign to anything close to friendship. For a few, silly, split seconds, you thought he could. 

“What was what?” He scoffed.

Right then you whipped around and snapped at him, “Don’t you play dumb with me, Joby Taylor. What the fuck was that all about?”

“You mean me playing your song?”

Your flushed face screwed up, “What else could I possibly be angry about?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d be pretty fucking happy about it.” He mumbled, glaring at you from beneath half lidded eyes.

“Why would I be happy with you stealing and performing a silly old song I wrote when I was teenager?”

“First of all, it wasn't silly.” He said matter of factly. “Second, I thought it would show you that someone has their fucking eyes open.”

“So you show me that by embarrassing me with that song?” Your hands expressed your skeptical confusion. How could he be so selfish? So willfully ignorant of his actions?

He waved the grievance away and grimaced, “Fine, forget about the old song. I’ll just go fuck myself, I guess, and you can go back to living in la la land pretending that everything is totally fine and totally normal and that I didn’t put my entire heart out on my sleeve there.” He cracked an obviously annoyed smile at the end.

His entitlement was becoming more and more infuriating. As much as you didn't want to yell, you couldn't help the harsh words that were brewing in your chest.

You exploded, “I am so sick of this self righteous bullshit! Ever since you met me, Joby, you’ve been falling for this completely idealized version of me. You think I’m a troubled girl who can save you from yourself. Fucking, news flash, I’m not your fantasy. I'm just someone who was stupid enough to tolerate your bullshit.”

He stood, a bitter snicker already growing on his face, “You’re right, I have been falling for an idealized version of you. Because in reality, you don’t believe in yourself enough to just leave all of the bullshit behind.” 

"Excuse me?”

“You heard me. The woman I wrote about and romanticized would know that she doesn’t need that fucking douchebag to do everything she wants to. That version of knows that she’s the coolest fucking person around and isn’t afraid of anyone knowing it.”

Before you could make it stop, your eyes were glossing over. The woman I wrote about. From anyone else, it might've made your heart flutter. But from Joby Taylor...the man who wrote bland song after bland song about sex and substances just to fuel his ego...it came like an insult. You'd never heard a Snake Trouble song that had been sentimental or heartfelt. Every line was about some new girl, drug, or party that seemed to ornament his life.

The idea that you were just another decoration to him...another line in a song that he'd get sick of playing...it was enough to send you over the edge.

Breathing hard, you said, “You...asshole. So you were writing about me?”

“Yeah? And?" He narrowed his eyes at you, his mouth hung open in that cocky way as he said, "As if you weren’t writing about me either.”

It's been long enough that you know not to play into his game. You shouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you get nervous. It would only make him plunge his heels further in the mud.

“I’ve never written a thing about you.” You defended yourself. But not even you could believe your quivering voice and aching throat as you swallowed back a sob.

Joby laughed then. And that's what made your facade falter completely.

He countered, “Oh, fucking come on. Hiding behind a cigarette screen, dancing as I fall asleep? A bottle of rouge makes me wanna know you? Wasting a night, but I have your brown eyes?" Joby recited the lines from your notebook in broken pieces, but you got the gyst of them. "You’re telling me that none of that was about me? About us? Because the last time I checked, your boyfriend doesn’t smoke cigarettes and drink wine with you. And isn’t he a blue eyed motherfucker? I don’t fuckin' remember. But I’m sure we both know who definitely has brown fuckin' eyes.”

He's right. The proof stares into yours. A lot deeper than you'd like them to.

You can't even begin to scrap together the little shreds of anger and betrayal that his words tear into you. Besides, anger wouldn't stop him. Anger would only tell him that he was winning; that if he just poked and prodded a little bit more, he'd reduce you to a giant mess. All he wanted was to sweep you up and dump you in his bed again. And his taunting brown eyes were still fucking there. 

“I made it all up. Have some fucking imagination for once.”

Joby picked apart the excuse immediately, “I thought you said you write what you know? And I’d say this sounds like how we know each other. Face it, this entire fucking time you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t give a shit about me." He smirks devilishly, "But you can’t stop thinking about me. You’re just too scared to admit that you actually feel something for someone. It’s too close for you, huh?”

“As if you don’t know anything about being afraid of feelings.” You asserted, voice only a little wobbly. Still, it doesn't escape Joby's notice.

And as much as he wants his point to hit home, something drags him back.

You're going too far. You're only going to make this fall apart.

He visualizes the vines shriveling away and dying on the trellis. All the ripe fruit, waiting to be picked, spontaneously turning to dust. After everything you'd both done...it wouldn't have been fair. To hurt you like he had after that first night…after he promised he wouldn’t do it again? He was sure he’d done many little things that made you angry with him. But this was new. He could choose himself or he can choose you. And by now, he knew which one he’d choose any day.

Joby’s hand reached for yours and you limply let him take it. He dipped his head, shifting so you'd meet his gaze again. You're far too set on the drywall behind him.

Voice softening, he tried again, “You scared the shit out of me. So, yeah, I was an asshole about it sometimes. But here I fucking am, baby. Because I couldn’t deal with it if I spent all of this time being so fucking obsessed with you just for you to say that you’re too afraid to do anything about it.”

“I’m not—" your voice broke before you looked at him, lips pulled into a thin line. "I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then why does the idea of me writing about you bother you so much? Why are you so angry about what happened last night? Have you never had someone be honest about everything? Is that it? You just think everyone is lying to you when they say they love you. Because it doesn't sound like him when they say it, huh?"

You couldn't think about William. The anxiety was already getting to be too much even without you thinking of how furious he'd be with you.

“Why do you even care about me? You said it when we first met: I’m a shitty cover artist. I’ll never get anywhere. And if you keep telling yourself that I’m someone special, you’re gonna end up in the same place.” You hated hearing the admission spilling from your lips. So many of those words could've easily come from William himself.

“I don’t care about any of that shit. I write about you because you’re fucking fantastic and you deserve to have hundreds of thousands of songs written about you. You deserve fucking church choirs and orchestras and encores and every single fucking crowd cheering for you. Because you’re the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

“Joby, just go.”

He pressed on, firmer than before, “No, I’m not gonna walk away just so you can tell yourself that it was always going to turn out that way. I want you to look into my eyes and tell me that you don’t fucking want me. Then I’ll walk right out that door. I’ll burn every line I’ve ever written about you. I won’t see you. I won’t sing about you. I won’t even think about you." He was close enough that he brought your hand to his chest. Part of you says it's another ploy. Just so you can sink into the heat of his body once again. Even larger than that reach in logic, you realized you could feel his frantic heartbeat. "But if any of that sounds devastating to you too…all you have to do is say it. Whatever you want from me, it’s yours. It’s all been yours the whole time.”

“Joby…I want—" You split in half as soon as you finally gazed into glossy brown eyes again. “Fuck—” You buried your head in your hands and let every mask slip away as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I want all of it. I want the fucking church choirs and the orchestra and whatever else you can give. I want you to write songs about me until you can’t think of a single thing you could say anymore. And you’re right, I am afraid. I’m afraid because if this falls apart, then I’m fucked. I can’t go from having something this bright...and...intense...to nothing again. I can't do it."

“I won’t let that happen.” He dared to bring you even further into his arms until you stiffened and pulled back.

You maintained his intense eye contact and you spoke clearly, almost issuing a warning, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“What makes you think I can’t keep that promise?”

“Because I know you. Fine—you’ve changed—but at the end of the day, I can’t be another Claire to you.”

Joby was rendered speechless, looking down at his boots and feeling that knife slide a centimeter deeper into his skin. It pinched right next to the outward curve of his spine, barely grazing his heart once more.

“Is that really what you think I’d do to you?”

He became minuscule. Something close to vulnerable.

“Joby, it’s what I know you’d do.”

For once…he got it. Could finally grip the knife and strain it against the grain of his hardened flesh, ripping it free from its tight confinement between his bones. He could deal with the wound later; he's set on getting a good look at the shiny blade, covered in the ruby red waters of his fears, hopes, and regrets. Every single one of his emotional hang ups chipped into the blade, only making it duller; deadlier.

If he had been a weaker man, you could've killed him. And he would've let you. But he wasn't weak, wasn't resigned to hiding away the simple truth behind speeches and songs anymore. If he really tried his best, he could boil the stew of emotions down to its bare bones.

He whispered, “I can't lose this. I can't lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either." You sniffed, "But I don’t want to lose myself. Not again.”

“I know you won’t believe me, but this entire thing is so much different than when I was with Claire. It's why I didn't recognize it. All of this is just as new to me as it is to you.”

“Oh really?” A small, cynical smile peeked through your cracked lips.

Joby figured he'd indulge your satisfaction a little, “Yeah. And it’s fucking overwhelming. Because one second you think you’ve seen it all but then all of the sudden, these other things come in. A-a-and you’ve never seen them before. You want to run away but you don’t want to stay the same." He had to pause to figure out how to end his explanation. Fuck, he'd never been good at these things on the fly. He stammered, "Because w-what if that new thing…is better than you ever could’ve imagined?”

“Joby, don’t dig yourself a deeper hole…” As much as you wanted to hear his sweet words, they already rattled around your head like empty promises. 

“Please, just let me finish.” He was silent and thought for a little longer. “You said it was all too intense. And, you know what? I agree. So why can’t we start small? W-w-we can drop…all this…pressure…of being muses for each other and just be with each other. We’ll explore everything, a little bit at a time. And if you ever decide that you don’t want me anymore, I’m gone. And you won’t have to worry about me ever again.” He guided your hand to his cheek.

You rubbed your thumb over the angle of his cheekbone; memorized the way the grooves of your fingertips ran so smoothly over his pale skin. From this angle, he was all soft curves and alcoves you could bury your mouth into. He was tangled wires and chaos and the taste of sweat and leather and cheap soap that made you cringe only a little. Because it was still him. And for now...that was good enough.

“You promise you won’t get sick of me too quickly?” You ventured carefully.

“I promise." He furrowed his brow, chuckled a bit, "To be fair, you’d have to really be trying for me to get sick of you, though.”

You sniffed and returned the modest laugh through your raw throat, “So what would I have to do exactly? Go into as specific of detail as you possibly can.”

“Are you already trying to get rid of me?” He eyed you suspiciously.

“I’m testing you.”

“Then bring it on.”

There was a beat of silence filled with his fond gaze and your bated breath before you burst the bubble, “This doesn’t absolutely terrify you?”

“Nope. Not even a bit."

You shook your head, "Oh, at least you're humble about it."

“Every fucked up choice I’ve made before…I never thought about them. I’m not the most…thoughtful guy. If you couldn’t tell.”

With the roll of your eyes, Joby knew the mood didn't call for him to continue the pitiful joke.

He started again, “But, I just— I want to try.”

Your lips were buttoned closed.

“I’m sorry for playing your song.” He tried a dreaded apology.

Your expression stayed blank and you replied, “Okay.”

“Why does it…bother you?”

You hand dropped to his shoulder and circled the leather there, "It reminds me of how little I actually knew. I had never fallen in love but I thought I knew what it felt like. I thought that one day I'd just find a person who would fill in every single crack.”

"And instead you got me."

You fiddled with the zipper at the edge of his jacket and sighed. "I'm starting to think that's not so bad, though. It’s gonna be a hell of a mess to figure out, though.”

Joby sighed, "What we are right now...doesn't matter. I just want to make something work. I can’t even begin to understand it...but I want to.”

Painfully and slowly, you tugged him down to your level by the collar of his leather jacket. He followed willingly. Lips inches from his own, your breathing was unfettered. Still, he waited for you to set the tempo.

"Then we can help each other figure it out."

You kissed him, softer than any of the previous ones but it sets his belly aflame just as much as ever.

"I fucking love you." He mumbled into the corner of your mouth.

You withdrew, just enough for a puff of hot air to leave you and hit his parted lips. He kept his eyes closed, assuming you were glaring at him.

"Too much?"

"I don't know." you whispered, "But, like I said, we'll figure it out." You still idled, processing the words. Like you were deciding on whether or not you should spoil him any more.

Joby doesn't feel the sting of rejection. Moreso, it's the gleam of opportunity that makes him grab you by the chin and drag you back to his hungry lips; he laid you back on the bed and hovered over you. It's the searing truth that he'd been waiting to have you all to himself for far too long. Now that you're both unattached...what else was there to do but entwine himself with you?

You returned the kiss with a new fervor, one that spoke to the confidence he'd imbibed you with. He makes you feel electric all over again as his arms engulf your frame. His nose prods your cheek as he gets deeper, mixing his tongue into the production. The second his hand drifted up your side, you were a goner.

"You said you'd give me anything." You breathed against his lips. 

Just getting to work, he was quiet; dumbstruck and trailing open mouth pecks down your chin to your neck. The zipper of his jacket was pulled down just far enough on your chest that he spotted the offending marks painting your skin. Dragging his tongue along them, he suckled once more, knowing he was only making an even bigger mess of you.

"Anything and everything, princess." he repeated in a husky whisper that vibrated off the column of your throat.

"Then I want you. I'll keep choosing you. Over and over again." You said. He hummed deviously into the spot between your shoulder and your neck. His breath was already hot and needy. Your fingers flew to his hair as he tended to your battered flesh; his handiwork.

You groaned softly but choked midway through. The sound morphed into a strangled gurgle as he cupped one of your tits and gave it a squeeze in his large palm. If he really wanted, he could work all of your knots out just like this. But the more he indulged in his frenzied kissing, the more you wanted all of him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling at the hem of his shirt that was now balled in your fist, begging him to shed the layers separating you from feeling his familiar flushed skin.

Joby chuckled softly, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He shot you that smug, squinty eyed smirk again that made you groan in annoyance as you undressed his top half.

The years of smoking, drinking, and suffering over his music made him pale and lanky. Joby had never felt more naked with your all too forgiving eyes roaming over his bare chest, like you could somehow absolve him of that pesky old past of his. 

In this way, he's a virgin. Completely untouched by the hands of someone who needed him in more ways than the physical.

He swore he could see tears gathering in your lash line when you murmured, “I want to see you. All of you.”

Cautiously, you took his shoulders and urged him to turn so his back was to you. Of course, he did what you wanted him to. Joby sat at the edge of the bed, head hung and shoulders slumped as he waited to feel what you were planning for him.

Blinking rapidly and chest heaving, he couldn't identify the cocktail of emotions that were swirling around in his head. He could pick out flecks of lust and a good amount of excitement. But the aftertaste? It's all bittersweet vulnerability; enough to make him wince when you finally touched him.

It was light. Barely there as you traced the outlines of the tattoos on his back. You began with the angel wings. Followed the curves of each detailed feather. It looked a bit newer, the ink contrasting heavily against his almost anemic skin. Despite the fact that his shoulders hadn't seen much sun in months, there were freckles gracing the highest point of his shoulders. Right underneath the hair that falls over the back of his neck, those tiny dots litter his skin. 

In large, decorative letters stretched across his shoulder blades is the word 'trouble'. You giggled, finding it quite ironic since he was becoming part of the solution for you.

"When did you get this one?" You wondered as your finger traced over the letters.

A shiver needled at the tail of his spine.

He was hard. You hadn't even touched him there but he was turned on. He didn't have the heart to stop your tender ministrations along his pale skin. But, oh boy, was he close to flipping you on your back when your lips coasted against the ridges of his shoulders. He tried not to think about those pink, plush pillows all over him; it made him dizzy. The question churned in his overwhelmed head and he struggled more than he should've for the answer.

"A few...years...ago. I-i-it was one of the first—" he inhaled sharply as your teeth grazed over the spot he thought the L would be, "It was the first one I got...after we started the band..."

He had been twenty when his friends sat around him, guzzling beers as they made fun of him, facedown and wincing as the artist worked on the massive piece. He’d gotten a few before: the pinup girl and the crest on his arms. But this one had taken a few sessions to complete. He spent a portion of their earnings from their first few shows on it. And it was entirely worth it.

It was meant to prove his dedication; he was willing to brand his flesh with the label to show that he was committed to being a star. 

"What about the snake?" you continued innocently enough until your hand slithered around and ran over the large, inked serpent on the left side of his chest. You must’ve known that his heart was beating out of his chest, right? He practically felt it vibrating in his skull. His blood seemed to be pulsating with want.

He swallowed hard, keeping focus on the next question, "The snake came after...a-all the guys...w-we got snakes together...just for the band."

That had happened two albums in. The second album was an utter failure. The snakes were meant to gather their broken pieces of motivation and tie them all together again. His friends tattoos had been smaller, more hidden. Joby...he simply had to get it imprinted into his skin, directly over his heart.

"You really care about that band, don't you?"

Why were you suddenly so curious? He was ripe for the picking, itching to be plucked from the stem so he could dissolve on your tongue. Yet you took your time. Slow and deliberate with every touch, you traced his tattoos as if they were drawings in your notebook.

"Snake Trouble...it meant everything to me..." Maybe that's what had always been wrong with him; why people just couldn’t do it for him. The music didn't judge. Didn't call him a deadbeat. Didn't make him feel alone. You didn't do those things either. You called him out on his selfishness, on his attitude, on how prone he was to being an asshole. Nonetheless, you embraced him all the same. Just like the music always had.

He was perfectly in tune, just for you. Whimpering so harmoniously as your thumb rubbed over the hardened nipple underneath the tattoo. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he greedily waited for more; more of your hands, your mouth, any piece of skin that could quell the way he was aching in his heart and his skinny jeans.

He breathed a sigh of relief when you came back around to his front, lifting one of your legs so you could rest comfortably, straddling his lap. However, you were nowhere near close to being done with teasing him.

Joby was far too pretty for a quick fuck. You had long since reckoned with that idea. You had to know what made him tick. What little things could you do to make his breath hitch in his lungs? To make him really squirm underneath you? You were simply working to reacquaint yourself with the dimension that you'd only gotten glimpses of. He was a song you just had to learn all the notes to. Every string of curses he let out as you eased yourself back and forth on his straining bulge was simply a new lyric to memorize. This, you concluded, was your absolute favorite love song.

He sputtered out a new line, “You’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah? Not as much of an asshole as you are, though.” You taunted him without skipping a beat.

“How am I the asshole?”

Your hand crept up his neck. Thumb rested on his chin, firmly implanted in the patch of facial hair, you skewed him closer to your face, “You sang that little song up there—”

Joby interrupted with a pitiful groan, “I told you I was sorry.”

“Let me finish. When you were singing …I wanted to march up there and kiss you.”

“Seemed like you wanted to punch me.”

You giggled. “Only a little. Mostly, I just wanted you all over me again.”

Joby couldn't take it. He was tense in every sense of the word. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, princess.”

“Isn’t that the point of this?”

“No— I mean— yes…fuck— I need to be inside you.”

You paused then, deliberating his fate. You wouldn't let him down like this, would you? 

“You’ve never considered what I’d be willing to give you before, have you?”

Your sincerity could've rendered him speechless, “Huh?”

“You said you’d give me anything. What if I don't want to give you anything? What would you do then?”

“Fuck— I don’t know if I could let you go.”

“Then you’re lucky I love you so much.”

If he wasn't so sick of this game, he'd laugh. But he's far too aware of the irony of this position; the immense control you had over him. 

This isn't fair. His critic wept internally. 

Oh, but it is. With how much you antagonized her...you deserve worse. And he knew his conscience was right. This was the most delightful sort of torture for him. Because at least now he knew that you would keep him. At least for a little while.

“Jesus fucking Christ…you’re such a fucking bitch.” 

For every biting word he uttered, you could hear the sentiment interlacing each syllable. Before you even asked it, you knew your answer. “But I’m yours, right?”

“You're all mine. Allllll mine.”

"Good, then prove it." you challenged him. As quickly as you could bite your lip, he had you pinned back to the mattress.

From that moment, there was no more teasing, no more games, no more acting. For the first time in years, Joby felt alive as he undid his belt. The action was almost muscle memory to him. None of his stumbling hands, only his mind focused entirely on what he was going to give you.

As Joby pushed his cock inside of you, he believed he could do it forever. He could never get tired of exploring this dripping passage, leading him all the way home to your heart. There weren't any clever lines he could use on you now. His head was too thoroughly fucked for him to make any sense anyway.

You were giddy, absolutely gushing with anticipation and willing to take every inch of him. He fucked you relentlessly; you expected nothing less from him. Yet it warmed your heart, hearing none of his smooth dirty talk, only his desperate grunts and groans that came with each thrust. Those were the sounds you had craved.

You dug your heels into his back and forced him deeper until you heard a consistent beat; the slapping of skin on skin. You yelped in time to it. Felt the wires in your belly rub together until the sparks were flying and singeing your skin. Your brain was severed from your body by the heat of pleasure.

Against all odds, you came first. With a beautifully high note leaving your throat, you shuddered and contracted around him as the bridge within you broke. But even after the crescendo, the beat persisted. Though you vaguely muttered for him to keep going—to keep using you—he didn't hesitate. Except he wasn’t going to use you.

Joby did little to soften his approach as he readjusted himself slightly. His hands now gripped your hips and raised your bottom half off the bed so he could keep pounding away. Your numb body shook each time and you held onto the sheets to keep yourself steady.

Your clit throbbed painfully as Joby thrusted right through the jolts of overstimulation that made tears roll down the sides of your face. This was your own encore. Your sweet little song for the road.

He reached one of his sweating, feverish hands forward and gathered a bit of the slick gathering around the base of his cock with two fingers. He used it to rub tight, fast circles around your aching bundle.

Your skin was burning up like you were sitting in hell, but his long fingers playing you expertly convinced you that you were in heaven. You heard the church choir and the orchestra and leading all of them was Joby. His fingers sent you straight into another climax. This time, you finished with a sweet little broken whine, entirely dried up from the performance.

He couldn't think far enough to do anything else until he was spurting in you, nearing the end of the composition. Even then, he wouldn't cease the lazy jerking of his hips. He had to make sure that all of his sticky spend would be lining your insides for days, never mind the tears prickling his eyes. He needed you to feel him in the morning, maybe even forever; however long you'd have him.

Because he'd do anything for you. Even if you intended to leave him the very next day, he would handle it. It would kill him. But he'd manage. He'd find some other way to heal if you'd rather he not be there. He could only hope that you were being as honest as he was with you.

The room was stiflingly hot by the time he finished. For a second, he thought that he was lucky his lungs didn't give out with how much energy he'd dedicated to composing that symphony. But it was for you. Always for you.

Though only a few words had passed through the heat of the moment, that seemed to be enough to describe the moment. It was a tangled bond that was only knotted further as he removed himself from you, yet stayed in place on your chest.

Sick and insane to healed and saved, Joby Taylor kissed the salty tears from your temple. If his throat wasn’t so ragged and raw, he could’ve cheered. Instead he held you like you were the only thing he'd ever need. And deep down inside, he was starting to believe it.

Taglist | @lokis-army-77 @angelicbruhl @pierres-new-spectacles @trelaney @babiezo @alemonyoyo @hollyisaberry @the-odd-devil @hjaolv @theluvcafe

#paul dano #danonation #danocel #for ellen #joby taylor #joby taylor x y/n #joby taylor x you #joby taylor x reader #joby taylor smut #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

[freneticfloetry]

playlist: when a thing is over

me, apropos of nothing: the opening to “your ex-lover is dead” is tk strand’s breakup thesis. when there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

because i’m unhinged, may i present the soundtrack to my neuroses: when a thing is over, the breakup era playlist that got me through writing the second chapter of to build a home.

(randomly, i have to write in total silence or i get distracted. but this was inspiration aplenty.)

some songs have direct ties to certain scenes, some are just here for the vibes. and much like the fic, the playlist is angst with a happy ending.

listen here

full tracklist under the cut.

Broken :: Lifehouse i'm falling apart, i'm barely breathing / with a broken heart that's still beating

Mine Again :: Black Lab every day, i will wait 'til you're mine again / i will die every day, 'til you're mine again

Strangers Again :: Ari Hest i want yesterday to come back again, nothing is as simple as i once knew / why can't everything be the way it was, before the day that i lost you

The Night We Met :: Lord Huron i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you / take me back to the night we met

Palace :: Sam Smith i'm gonna miss you, i'm still there / sometimes i wish we'd never built this palace, but real love is never a waste of time

Where I Stood :: Missy Higgins there were sounds in my head, little voices whispering / that i should go, and this should end, oh and i found myself listening

Death By A Thousand Cuts :: Taylor Swift you said it was a great love, one for the ages / but if the story's over, why am i still writing pages

Breathe Again :: Sara Bareilles all i have, all i need, he's the air i would kill to breathe / holds my love in his hands, still i'm searching for something

Not as We :: Alanis Morissette for now i’m faking it, 'til i’m pseudo making it / from scratch, begin again, but this time i as i, and not as we

Before You Go :: Lewis Capaldi our every moment, i start to replace / 'cause now that they're gone, all i hear are the words that i needed to say

Someone You Loved :: Lewis Capaldi now the day bleeds into nightfall, and you're not here to get me through it all / i let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug, i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Jealous :: Labrinth but i always thought you'd come back, tell me all you found was heartbreak and misery / it's hard for me to say, i'm jealous of the way you're happy without me

Fly Before You Fall :: Cynthia Erivo your resistance to sadness is futile but you're a fighter, can't stand defeat / you're a magician at hiding the hurt from you, but i see and i hear you, loud as a bomb, wanting a shoulder to cry on

I'll Never Love Again :: Lady Gaga don't wanna feel another touch, don't wanna start another fire / don't wanna know another kiss, no other name falling off my lips

Stars :: Grace Potter & The Nocturnals i lit a fire with the love you left behind, and it burned wild and crept up the mountainside / i followed your ashes into outer space, i can't look out the window, i can't look at this place

Rivers & Roads :: The Head And The Heart nothing is as it has been, and i miss your face like hell / and i guess it's just as well, but i miss your face like hell

Echo :: Jason Walker i don't wanna be an island, i just wanna feel alive and get to see your face again / but 'til then, just my echo, my shadow, you're my only friend

Say Something :: A Great Big World and I am feeling so small / it was over my head, i know nothing at all

Not Over You :: Gavin DeGraw if you ask me how I'm doing, i would say I'm doing just fine / i would lie and say that you're not on my mind

Better :: Ben Platt i'm not good at pretending that i'm happy to be alone, part of me is a question, can't answer it on my own / 'cause i lost part of me when i lost all of you, now i'm lost

The Fear You Won’t Fall :: Joshua Radin it hasn’t felt like this before, it hasn’t felt like home before you / and i know it’s easy to say, but it’s harder to feel this way, and i miss you more than i should, than i thought i could, can’t get my mind off you

The Weight of Us :: Sanders Bohlke i'm not ready, i’m not ready / for the weight of us, for the weight of all of us

Every Little Thing :: Dishwalla don’t give me up, don’t give me up tonight / or soon nothing will be right at all, salvation / when you find out who you are, it’s too late to change

Collide :: Dishwalla when the cold comes crashing down, and the fight lost what it's about, i could tell that you had left / and it's a shame what we've become, when we hurt the ones we love, and it's a place i cannot go anymore

All I Want :: Kodaline when you said your last goodbye, i died a little bit inside, i lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side / but if you loved me, why'd you leave me

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead :: Stars there's one thing i want to say so I'll be brave, you were what i wanted, i gave what i gave / i'm not sorry i met you, i'm not sorry it's over, i'm not sorry there's nothing to save

Afterglow :: Taylor Swift hey, it's all me, in my head, i'm the one who burned us down / but it's not what i meant, sorry that i hurt you

Come Home :: OneRepublic & Sara Bareilles come home, come home, 'cause i've been waiting for you for so long, for so long / and right now there's a war between the vanities, but all i see is you and me, and the fight for you is all i've ever known

Ghosts That We Knew :: Mumford & Sons so give me hope in the darkness that i will see the light, 'cause oh, they gave me such a fright / but i will hold as long as you like, just promise me we'll be alright

#playlist #tarlos #when a thing is over #to build a home #fic extras #911 lone star

[majoringinsarcasm]

OK SO NOT TO BE EVEN MORE DELUSIONAL if Bees don’t happen tomorrow it’s fine literally I’m not even worried bc I know it will this volume BUT LET ME GET UP ON THIS STEPLADDER TO REACH FOR A MINUTE (also for context I am getting the episode numbers from crunch roll I think they might’ve been slightly different originally on YouTube but it’s fine I’m already reaching)

Volume 1 Chapter 6: The Emerald Forest is when Blake and Yang locked eyes and became partners BEFORE they even joined a team. So in a world where team rwby never happened they would still be partners on another team. Also could be argued Blake picked Yang on purpose bc we see her dart by in the foreground. You know. Also side note but Yang asking the Grimm if they’ve seen a girl in a red hood vs Ruby asking Little if they’ve seen a girl with long blonde hair. Sisters, your honor.

Volume 2 Chapter 6: Burning the Candle. DO I EVEN NEED TO SAY MORE? Some could say it’s one of the defining moments of early series Blake and Yang, it’s so good you can just say the title and the ones who get it get it. Highlights are the laser pointer which I found personally fun, early volume humor I love you, hugging your sleep deprived stressed girl best friend and then saying you’ll save her a dance. Also shout out to shirtless Ren??? Forgot about that and Nora in the background pretending not to listen to him and Jaune talk lol. Also early volume Renora my BELOVED

Volume 3 Chapter 6: Fall is when the fake out leg break happens with Mercury which isn’t a Bees moment but that later sparks the conversation all the girls have about believing Yang really saw him attack first and Blake bringing up how this reminds her of Adam but deciding to trust in Yang anyway. Volumes four and five don’t have Bee moments tied to their respective chapter sixes.

However the bees are thinking about each other while they are apart, with Blake seeing Yang in Sun’s place when he’s attacked by Ilia plus Sun literally calling out that Yang would want Blake to be with her even when things are bad. And Yang’s “what if I needed her here for me?” when she and Weiss have their little heart to heart in V5.

Volume 6 Chapter 6: Alone in the Woods: a personal favorite of mine in general. They are at the farm, they are above the Apathy, Qrow gets his first big wake up call in terms of his alcoholism and how it affects his family. Yang grabs Blake by the hand to lead her out of the house even though she doesn’t really Need to and Weiss gets to torch the place because she also has a parental figure who struggles with drinking and it affects her. Love this episode a true banger.

Volume 7 Chapter 6: A Night Off: Blake and Yang are going dancing. Neither are very good at it and it’s very cute. Featuring a hand on the shoulder as Blake does her makeup and Yang sitting like a lesbian on the bed behind her and smiling as she does said makeup. Also Blake’s giggle she laughs at whatever Yang does. I love mutually down bad couples. Also Weiss watching half of her team be gay dorks and deciding to go to the movies with Oscar and Jaune bc she refuses to be a third wheel for another second. Highlight for me personally is the beginning when everyone is training I love shots like that I think it’s cute and fun and. I miss when they could act like this before. The Horrors truly set it. Also the beginnings of Ren semblance evolution and the Rosegarden crumb haha. Also Yang chasing after Blake and her shadows as they are fishing was also cute.

Volume 8 Chapter 6 is Cinder’s backstory but V8 does have the bee reunion face cradle and forehead touch as well as Yang’s conversation with Jaune that he mistakenly thinks is about Ruby, as well as Blake’s conversation with Nora about needing to know who you are outside of your relationship and how They don’t have to be all You are.

WHICH BRINGS US NOW TO VOLUME 9 CHAPTER 6. Not every cute or significant Bee moment is tied to chapter six and they have more than one movement to talk and have moments in each volume. I just had a lil breakthrough and wanted to check when they became partners and what chapter burning the candle was and went down a rabbit hole.

Again IF there’s no confession in like 10 hours do Not let the bad faith haters get you down. We are coming off a wild episode and I personally missed my boy Jaune so much and want to know what happened to him. We will see how all that plays out. But the evidence is there and has been for years and has been pointed out in universe so if it doesn’t happen it’s ok to be disappointed but please trust that it Will happen.

But if it DOES? No bigger bottles will be popped. We win either way; it just depends on when. See y’all on the other side!

#rwby 9 spoilers #bumbleby #blake bellodona #yang xiao long #long post #once again if it doesn’t happen this weekend DO NOT LET THE BAD FAITH HATERS GET TO YOU #nobody knows what queerbait really is and many don’t actually like the show anymore OR #they call actually lgbt fans idiots for ‘falling for RT’s crap’ or whatever #but anyway I wrote all of this and scrambled to check the episodes in like half an hour if that so I hope you like my rapid ramblings #we are not clowns but court jesters and I happily dance my dance until the queen bees have their garden moment #maybe it’s tomorrow! we shall see #🖤💛

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Regan’s “apartment” PARTIES: Regan and Beau SUMMARY: Beau has come to greet the love of his life and Regan finds a love of her own.

Beau was nothing if not an impressive, and thorough stalker. Looking up Dr. Kavernagh’s address had been as easy as putting in her address in the system. Beau had appeared earlier in the evening, but was deterred by another car and the sound of another man. Jealousy had been his first response, but he was nothing if not patient. Beau waited for the man to leave, his car pulling away into the night, before walking up the driveway. His typical smile pulled at his cheeks. In his hand he had a three inch bone he found and ordered off of eBay because he didn’t want to come empty handed, and he thought it would be very kind of him to tell a full truth instead of a half truth. “Hello?” Beau called. “I’m here to fall madly, deeply and passionately in love with you.” 

Another Tuesday, another evening struggling through her interactions with Reilly. Regan was tired of this sham of an apartment, and this stupid winter coat, and trying to make conversation that didn’t involve death or the last six years of her life. But Siobhan had entered the scene like a whirling hurricane, and now Regan wasn’t sure she even had the option to put up with things much longer. She couldn’t betray any of this to her brother. Every second around him felt like lies upon lies. It was hard to bear, and she doubted being across the Atlantic from him again would make it easier. She didn’t want to think about it. So she’d shooed him out as quickly as possible, not sure when or if they would get an actual goodbye before she had to leave. 

She watched Reilly’s car drive off, feeling a heavy weariness sink into her skeleton, but there was someone standing there, in the driveway. She opened the door and squinted at them. A man, holding something – a bone! –  with an amorous look in his eyes. “That’s… forward of you.” Regan said slowly, trying to process what was happening here. There was something off. Well, beyond the obvious eccentric boldness. She could feel the bone. It beckoned and pulsed and she was even willing to approach him to get a better look at it. But there was something else, there, too. Something familiar. Some part of her recognized it, but her mind kept turning the possibility away. Regan crossed her arms and slowly descended down the stairs, turning her nose up at the man. “I don’t fall in love, and I don’t think you should pursue something that will always be unrequited.” Her eyes roved from his face to the bone in his hand. “But tell me more about that.”

The familiar touch of magic spun around Beau, informing him he was in the presence of a fae. Beau looked between Regan, and the bone that she seemed so interested in. “Unrequited?” Beau slapped a hand over his chest. Rejection always stung, no matter how much he pretended it didn’t. Had he been forward? Yes, but look at him! He was a catch. He was basically the number one eligible bachelor here, if not in the whole world. Surely she could see how lucky she was to even be around him. So why was she more interested in the bone than him? Fine. He could work with that.

“This is the bone of my love.” Beau held the bone up between two fingers, turning it back and forth. He didn’t think it was untrue to call it his bone of love, since he bought the bone specifically to find love. Any other detail about it, he didn’t know. He’d only looked for the criteria of three inches long. Because Beau wasn’t a liar. Mostly. When he didn’t feel like suffering the consequences. “It’s a mystery bone.” To me, he added silently. “I will give it to my one true love and they will know what it is.” He hoped. She liked bones, after all. “And that is how we will know.” He would have loved to add something like, we’re meant to be or we’re soul mates, but that would be a lie. He hoped she would fill in the blanks for herself.

Regan’s skin prickled as she neared the man, but that didn’t make any sense. It felt like he was fae. But once more, something inside of her turned away from what was surely a coincidence. He was not fae. It was impossible. That was something she knew in her bones rather than her skin. “Did you know I was here?” She asked, taken aback. Despite everything she knew about not getting murdered by strange men showing up at her home unannounced, it almost didn’t matter. Not when he had such a nice find between his fingers. Besides, she had nothing to fear from others. She stood taller and prouder than all of them… even if she scarcely felt she did.

“Mystery bone?” Regan tilted her head, giving the bone a long look. It was no mystery. “That is a raccoon baculum. A bit on the small side, actually.” 

“Yes, of course I know where you live.” Beau gave out a chuckle, a laugh that said women are so silly for asking such dumb questions. “I came looking for you specifically, because from our few online conversations I just knew we had a spark.” Because Beau was a charming guy, and rom-coms have taught millions of people around the world that creepy and stalkerish behavior was okay, as long as it was in the name of romance. Not that Beau considered this creepy or stalkerish. Everything he was doing here was romantic. It was something they could laugh about to their kids, grandkids and great grandkids years from now. 

“You, you know what it is?” Beau was putting on a show. Beau was acting surprised. Beau was clasping a hand over his mouth and staring wide-eyed back up at Regan. “According to the story, that means we’re destined to fall madly in love.” It wasn’t a lie, because it was according to a story. Not according to the truth. The story may have been a lie, but referencing it was a nice little work around. Beau ignored the fact that the bone was on the small side, it was how bones were used that mattered! Not their size. Beau threw himself to his knees, arms held stretched out, bone cupped lovingly in his hands. “Regan, the story was clear. We are destined to fall in love, get married and have children. Will you take my bone in marriage?” 

Regan blinked at Beau, momentarily taken aback by the theatrics of his declaration. For a second, she considered whether this was some elaborate prank or performance art, but the sincerity in his eyes told her otherwise. “Online conversations?” She leafed through her recent online interactions in her head, and recalled the strange, cheese-fixated man who had attempted to ask her out. This was, undoubtedly, the same individual. Beau. That was his name. “Ah. You. There is no spark. What you’re experiencing is your brain flooding with oxytocin and vasopressin. The weaker-willed among us have a difficult time resisting such base urges.” Regan was better. She could turn away from her brother. She could hold her breath as she drowned.

As Beau got down on his knees, a shock of dread ran through her. Just what was he… Oh no. Regan’s eyes widened and her slow heart felt like it had just stopped altogether like a sputtering, failing engine. She was right, and sometimes she hated being right. She had never been in a sufficiently close relationship to ever consider engagement being on the table. And here was Beau, a stranger, who was doing exactly that, proposing. And knew how to, in the way Regan had been taught was proper and right, although there were a few pieces missing. Cliodhna sometimes spoke of the baculum Regan’s grandfather had gifted her, and despite her tone lacking in any and all warmth when he entered her thoughts, Regan had once uncovered what she suspected was the very same bone, securely preserved with all of Cliodhna’s precious heirlooms. 

This baculum practically shined in the sunlight as Beau held it toward the heavens, an offering. Regan backed up, her palms out in a stop gesture. “I don’t know who filled your head with these stories, or how you know about… this. But this is insanity. Beau, right?” She looked down at him, this desperate, sweaty, cheese-loving man, and something like pity bubbled up inside her. She refused to entertain it. But she would attempt to not leave a scar. “Beau, I don’t know you. At all. And beyond that, I’m not – look, if you want all of those things, you would never receive them from me.” She stammered. “I reject your proposal, in case that’s unclear”. But… “That is a lovely baculum, though. And I think you should give it to me anyway.” 

"Vasopressin?" Beau spluttered out the word, eyes blinking rapidly as offense took him fully. Who was she to tell him what he was experiencing? Beau was the master of his own emotions, names, cheese puns, and much more. So what? She had a doctorate and suddenly she thought she was better than everyone? Beau knew how fae worked, she probably wasn't even a real doctor. She probably paid to have her credentials faked because she was probably older than science itself. "Old hag," Beau mumbled under his breath. He let that moment of anger flair around him before swallowing it back, forcing it behind his characteristic smile. It burned the muscles of his cheek. "I assure you, I am not week." Because he wasn't a week. Ha. He was weak, but she didn't need to know that. 

The moment of the proposal had everything a fairy tale-obsessed little lad might have wanted. The shock of the woman of his dreams, brought wordless by the beautiful moment. Good weather. Not enough names were being offered in a dowry, since no dowry had been offered at all, but really who was he to be picky about that at this moment? He could get her name and the name of her family members later! Why did she need a name anyway? She would be Mrs. Doctor Bueford afterward. That was surely enough names for her. Except, apparently it wasn't picture perfect. Because she rejected him. 

What an uppity prude. 

"Hahaha, it's not nice to call someone insane." Anger bubbled against the surface of his skin, ready to turn him into a lava nymph, erupting with anger all over the situation. His smile remained in place. Practiced. Pulled. Stretched skin, like the small part of him not yelling. Then she did the unthinkable. She asked for the bone anyway. "NO!" Beau shouted, falling from his kneeling position, face first into the driveway pavement. His arms and legs thrashed around. "NO! YOU DON'T GET TO BREAK MY HEART AND KEEP MY BONE" Beau whined, his voice going up an octave in a shrill cry. "YOU'RE RUDE AND MEAN YOU DON'T GET THIS BONE YOU'LL NEVER GET THIS BONE." Beau rolled over, facing up at the sky. He held the bone up in one hand, then the second. He struggled to break it. 

He wasn't strong enough.

Most of Regan’s romantic relationships had been short-lived and dispassionate; she rarely had time to engage in anything other than studying or, later on, her work; then, finally, her training. As a result, she was fairly certain she had never broken a man’s heart before. If anything, she was often the slighted party. You don’t care about me. You reek of death. You look at me like you want to cut into my stomach. But that was what she thought she was seeing here: heartbreak. And not in the more interesting way, involving aortic dissection or another cardiac pathology. This was the emotional kind. And despite Beau’s protests, that certainly did make him weak.

At first, she thought Beau was about to do some kind of… performance. Why else would he be on the ground, dancing? But it wasn’t a dance, she realized quickly. He was flailing. His limbs thrashing against the pavement, his eyes pinched shut in agony. His scream couldn’t match hers in volume, but somehow, she thought it had to be more grating. Regan winced through the tantrum, torn between wanting to make sure he didn’t injure himself in this display, and wanting to back off, never seeing him again. “Stop yelling and get up. This isn’t – I mean, sure, I suppose I am mean. Or maybe just not nice. Your life is not over.” She hesitated. “Yet.” Regan crossed her arms, grateful that the puffy coat felt like a barrier between the two of them. “I have had child patients whose maturity exceeds your own.”

And then his hand moved. And her mind jolted with the realization of what he was about to do. Regan reached toward him, mouth open, fingers outstretched, wanting to stop what was going to happen. But she was too slow. The bone – it did not snap. Her hand flopped back down. Could she just walk up to him and pluck the bone out of his hands? It was tempting. But his flair for the dramatics made her wonder if this was part of the act, feigning weakness. She didn’t want him to go from disagreeable to apoplectic. “Beau?” She asked, since he seemed to have quieted. He was looking up at the sky like he had been failed by the universe. “We do not get everything we want in life.” She looked at the bone. She was not able to apply her own advice to it. “When you’re ready, give me the bone.”

Nothing ever went Beau’s way. All he did was try and try. He was a good guy! He deserved good things to happen to him! He deserved the rewards of a good life! He deserved for women and men to be falling over themselves to get a chance with him! And all he got was this! Scorn! Pain! Immense disappointment! The pavement of the driveway hurt where his flesh met it, leaving red scrapes where he’d thrashed too hard against the rough surface. The driveway didn’t care about what he wanted just as much as the woman standing before him. Was he not sexy when he was in his feelings? Did she not see that he was the total and complete package? 

Beau did get up. “I’m not getting up because you told me to.” He needed to make the distinction clear. This floozy would hold no power over him. Beau was a man of his own choices and considerable maturity. “Yet.” Beau repeated the word, rolling it over his tongue. It tasted disgusting. “Are you threatening me?” He asked, vitriol lacing his words. He was no longer hiding behind his practiced smile. He would waste no more unwanted time or energy on this wench. “You’re a lost cause.” He was searching for words that would hurt, he wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him. “Threaten me all you want. You’re going to die alone, completely unloved.” He paused; she would probably want that. Cold hearted as she was. “And your bones will rot.” He didn’t know if bones rotted. 

“You’ll never get this bone. You’ll never get me. You had your chance, and you blew it. I hope you cry every night.” Beau made eye contact as he raised the bone to his lips. He was going to swallow the bone so that she would never get it. Beau shoved the three inches into his mouth and found himself choking on it before he could even get it down the hatch completely. He spluttered and spat. The bone landed on the driveway in front of him with a soft and wet thud. “Fine. Take that too. Just like you took…” He cast around for words, she hadn’t actually taken anything from him. There had never been anything there in the first place. “My happiness!” 

A lost cause. Regan certainly was that, and she knew it. But as lost as she was, as much as the word failure burned in her brain more fiercely than iron, she was not, at least, a slave to her emotions. Not like Beau. Such a flagrant, dramatic display of unadulterated feelings was offensive. Regan shied away from it like it could be contagious. Sometimes emotions seemed like they were. Reilly’s tears made her skin crawl in a way that was difficult to bear, and whenever she turned away from them the effort only grew larger. Had Beau put on such a show at Saol Eile, they’d shred him apart on the spot, scream him to ribbons. “Death will take me however it wants, whenever it wants. Whether I die alone and unloved is of no consequence to me.” It clearly mattered to him, though.

She watched, equal parts disturbed and curious, as he lodged the bone into his mouth. Just what was he trying to accomplish? He couldn’t snap it in half with his teeth. There was no way. And as much as she didn’t like the thought of such a specimen being inserted into any one of Beau’s orifices, she was too thrown by the whole ordeal to cut in.

Whatever he was trying to do had failed.

Coated in Beau’s saliva, the raccoon’s penis bone shined even brighter. It called to her – that little, invisible line cast from it, straight into Regan’s center. She cherished it, every time. It sang against her skin. So when the thread tugged, she recognized the opportunity for what it was. The baculum could be hers. She reached past Beau, letting instinct draw her closer, letting death take the reins.

And then death attacked her. It became a violent, snapping thing, too big and heavy and present for her to hold. Her head filled with it. Regan’s knees buckled and her knuckles scraped against the pavement. She could feel dead earthworms and bugs and the smallest of scattered teeth and vertebrae. Nearby, a neighbor was slowly dying of atherosclerosis. Another down the street was going to be killed in a few weeks by an escaped hippo at the zoo. Cats, dogs, a dead bird baking on a rooftop, another in an oven. It was a mountain on her shoulders. Her ribs vibrated from the strain. A scream wanted out. Not because Beau was dying – this was something else, the torrent of her senses overwhelming her. She didn’t care for Beau – even held some disdain for this pathetic man, so far as she was allowed – but she wasn’t going to deafen him. Or worse. Regan dragged herself away from the bone, trying to create any amount of distance. It didn’t help at all. The world seemed to sink out from under her, but she did her best to claw her way up. Standing. She needed to get away from it all. As she ran, she could feel the dead grass beneath her feet, a field mouse decomposing, a hawk swooping down on a rabbit. “Keep it,” she tried to utter back, but it came out a harsh screech. 

Regan sprinted back up to her apartment and slammed the door shut behind her, trying to keep out far more than just the decompensated man in her driveway. On the other side, that thin thread that had so lovingly and gently connected her to the bone was now a thick, creeping vine, trying to drag her out by the ankle. Regan swallowed with effort, closing her eyes against the death – all of the hundreds, and hundreds she could practically feel right beneath her fingers.

#writing #c beau #i love this lil guy. this scamp. this rascal #the logical follow up to my last thread?

[hagatha-christie]

Books in June, whatever

The bad:

Triple Duty Bodyguards by Lily Gold - I have to admire her “work smarter not harder” mentality because I have read two of her books now and every character is exactly the same from book to book with like 2 details changed about their physical appearance. I had essentially a 2 day long panic attack and my brain was on hyperdrive and this literally made me stop thinking any thoughts for the 5 hours it took to read this so like, do with that what you will.

Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall - the sequel to a pretty mediocre Alexis Hall book but in this one oh my GOD the romance didn’t work for me at all. We were constantly told how interesting and captivating the love interest was but I cannot tell you a single thing about them other than they’re an opera singer. V boring, only finished it because the friend group dynamic was fun

The fine: Killadelphia, Vol. 1-3 by Rodney Barnes - cool concept but it kind of felt like the author was like a 12 year old kid who didn’t know when to stop. “What if there’s vampires in Philadelphia right now and former president John Adams is one and so is his wife! And so is Thomas Jefferson! And Sally Hemings is too but she and Abigail Adams are in love! And then Tituba shows up and she’s a WEREWOLF.” These are all things that happened, I will not be continuing.

Radium Girls by Cy - another graphic novel bc I was on a kick this month? Anyway the art is cool but the translation from French to English is not great and kind of distracting!

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen - what if we pretend to date for Reasons and you’re the cheerleading captain and I’m a basketball player and we kiss and we’re both girls? V cute v fun

We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian - what if we’re best friends working at the same paper in the 1950s and I move into your apartment after my fiance leaves me for another man and then we kiss and fall in love and we’re both boys? V cute v sweet

The good/great:

Your Driver is Waiting by Priya Guns - viscerally sweaty and dirty and ANGRY but in a good way. Also made ME angry which I thought was a sign of good writing. Read for a little bit of catharsis if you’re upset that you’re fuckin broke and will always be fuckin broke bc nothing seems to get better and you kind of want to set something on fire, just a little bit, as a treat.

Pardon My Heart by Marcus Jackson - really honest poetry about Black masculinity that’s sweet and heartbreaking. Favorite poems were the title poem, and the three poems at the end that are about Jackson’s wife and how much he loves her.

The Woods, Vol. 1-9 by James Tynion IV - scratched the Stranger Things itch in my brain. Twisty and never went the way I thought it would. Loved these characters and their journeys!

Sweeney Astray, translated by Seamus Heaney - this weird-ass book from the 17th century was a WILD ride and I loved every second of it. Read it more for the historical info rather than its literary merit, if that makes sense? Sweeney gets cursed by a Christian king for being a dick and spends the entire book wandering the Irish countryside, eating watercress, and insisting that no one wants him around even when several of his family members say “WE WANT YOU AROUND”

Bitter Root, Vol. 1-3 by David F. Walker - read if you liked Ring Shout because the premise is so similar! The art style was great and I liked how expansive the world was. Great characters and a great storyline.

Electric Arches by Eve L. Ewing - fuck Eve Ewing for being so GODDAMN talented, it makes me sick, please read this.

Currently reading: The Devil’s Element by Dan Egan, which gave me like 4 more solid examples of the British Empire being fucking monsters (and American companies causing so much environmental harm and then saying it’s too expensive to fix)

#reading