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saturnsbabyboii · 1 year

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💮Random Astro Notes, Answering Questions and a lil Rant💮

🪷The house that Saturn resides in can tell us what items we have been more careful and gentle with. To name a few, people with Saturn in 3rd house may have their books degrade faster, and their phones break often. Saturn in 4th need to be careful with their furniture, photos, kitchen, and even their entire home. Saturn in 7th may lose or damage their jewelry. Saturn in 11th may electronics break and malfunction.

🪷The house that Scorpio and Pluto reside in gives us some insight into how/where we are mistreated, misunderstood, taken advantage of, and perhaps even abused. However, it’s also where you’ll eventually come on top. If you thought Saturian karma doesn’t play then wait until you see Plutonian karma. Unlike Saturn, it is public and done indirectly. Because it’s the house of death (symbolically more than literally) and transformation, Pluto works slowly but on a large scale. Just like tectonic plates, they're slow and great. It may very well (especially for Scorpio) happen after your death or in a different lifetime.

🪷The Pisces paradox of being obsessed with yourself and taking pictures 24/7 and also desiring to escape your mortal flesh

🪷Side bar but I love how the sign of most season winners and of miss congeniality on Ruapul Drag Race is Taurus followed by Libra. It makes for Venusians to dominate a beauty competition show.

🪷Leo and Libra placements are obsessed with having an aesthetic. They drown themselves in whatever they find beautiful, and they do it well.

🪷I never understood the obsession with spouse, wealth, fame, and indicators in the chart. To me personally, when it comes to these subjects is that if you aren't actively trying to have or working in whichever way that suits you and seems the most effective, you won't attain it. How are you getting anything without putting an effort into it?

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Questions Asked:

🌸@brielledoesastrology thank you for the message, but I don't want to tell people about my chart 😅. I like to be as impartial as I can when it comes to doing astrology. I do it to help people and for fun not for fame or any gratification. It may seem dramatic but I swear it's easier when people don't know 😭

🌸 @spixcyy "Can I ask if you're gay?"

It's giving (Yes, I am very colorful and zesty)

🌸 Question from @iproposedtoyomamaandshesaidyes: “Heyy wassup bro how’s everything? I have Chiron in Leo is that a good placement?”

Heyy, I am good thank you and I hope you’re healthy and happy. Well, it depends on what we mean by “good”. In terms of the role of Chiron in Leo’s role in your trauma and healing.

Here are some of my interpretations of Chiron in Leo:

Sensitivity to your sense of person

Having limited self expression or authenticity (The house Chiron resides in can indicate where, how, and in some cases by whom.)

Being forced into the collective and not allowed to have a sense of independence

Individuality and unbecoming is a major life themes/struggles (regardless of the house)

Problems with self esteem, courage, vitality, creativity, and originality

Having a hard time accepting your possibilities and fearing success

Fear of disappointing role model/guide

Pressure from an early age for living a prodigy

Having to play a “role” or a character for a large portion of your early years

Trouble feeling that you do not have a central purpose or reason for existing

Difficulty understanding what it is you are ‘supposed’ to be doing with your life, yet having an overwhelming sense that you are supposed to be doing something.

Excessive rebellion or conformity

Healing and Moving on:

Learning to be content

Finding yourself as you move along life

Accepting that you won’t find instant solutions and results

Allowing yourself to grow

Forgiving yourself for being the person you were and needed to be

Helping others embrace their qualities (especially those that are viewed negatively by society) will help accept yourself

Leading with love and compassion, not detachment

As Chiron is the great healer that can’t heal his wound, your life purpose is:

To lead by example

Break the mold

Be the new “normal”

Perseverance

Act as a leader of the collective rather than be part of the group

Depending on the themes of the house Chiron resides in, you’ll work as a great motivator and healer in that aspect of life.

Hope this was of any help and thank you for your question.

🌸 @astro-lab asked :” So what is “the other Lilith” that comes with every chart? Which one is more relevant? How are they related?”

There are four asteroids that are part of Lilith.

- First, we have the Black Moon Lilith or Mean Lilith (h12), which is the most commonly used and referred to when people say “Lilith”. This is the one that is usually used in birth chart tools you find online.

The others are Asteroid Lilith (1181), True/Osculating Lilith (h13), and lastly, we have Dark Moon Lilith/ Waldemath Black Moon (h58).

Mean Lilith uses the average orbit of the theoretical Black Moon. This is why she is called Mean Lilith. “Mean” refers to the average, not her temperament. For True Lilith, her orbit oscillates or interchanges constantly. This Lilith uses the actual, real orbit of the Black Moon rather than the average in comparison. As for Dark Moon Lilith, some people have claimed to have seen this Moon, although its existence is debatable. Asteroid Lilith is the only Lilith that is an actual astronomical body.

In terms of their relevancy and importance depends on what areas of life are you looking to get insight from. Like other asteroids, they can shed light on things we tend to overlook. However, when it comes to Lilith, in general, these are things that we feel but never understand period.

The Mean Lilith is widely used because it takes the average orbit of Lilith and its mystic influence astrologically. In the birth chart, it represents the unconscious mirages that we create to protect our most vulnerable parts and deepest fears. Where we tend to be mistreated the most as Lilith had been and how can we fall victim to others but also heal, transform, and regain that power.

True Lilith in contrast is what we might now refer to as “your villain origin story”. This is where we find ourselves pushing the boundaries of ourselves and others. Our darker instincts and desires.

Asteroid Lilith is where and how we embody Lilith through the chart and in our everyday life.

I hope I was able to explain it well but thank you so much for your question 💕

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That's it, thank you for the questions and for reading.

Adios PUTAAASSSS

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beskarandblasters · 3 months

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Was it all a dream?

Chapter Five: You and me, we got our own sense of time

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Din realizes his true feelings for you and you both notice the strange passing of time in this particular dream. In the real world, you start to form an exit plan.

Word count: 3.2k

Chapter warnings: fluff, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling (Din’s), Din working through his feelings, very needy and passionate sex

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Din

Beige walls. Beige floors. Beige furniture. It’s all the same. Din’s never been to a place like this before. It’s too… domestic. He never finds himself in places like this – in a house. This has to be a dream. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

In his dreams, he never starts inside. Every place he’s found you has been outside. Except for that cantina on Coruscant. Even then, his dream started on the street and he just wandered inside.

But here? He meanders up and down the never-ending hallways, searching for you like before.

This is a dream, right?

He looks down at his clothes– all black attire, no armor. Yep, this is a dream.

Of all the places he’s dreamed of lately, this is his least favorite. It’s dull. It’s lifeless. It’s never ending.

He turns a corner and finally finds you. And suddenly, all the beige, all the monotonous surroundings make sense. Because there’s you in screaming color.

He immediately glues himself to you, arms embracing you as if he didn’t just see you the night before.

“I’m sick of this,” he says, clutching you once again as if you’re going to slip out of his reach.

“Sick of what?”

“Starting without you. I just have this fear I’ll wake up before I can find you,” he says, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“It hasn’t happened yet, Din. Try not to worry about it now,” you say, bringing a hand to his face and stroking his cheek. He closes his eyes at your touch and realizes that he was wrong before.

It’s not enough to only have you in his dreams. The dream realm is uncertain. Reality always cuts in at the wrong time, waking him up before he’s ready to let go. At least if he had you in real life, nothing would be left uncertain. He could always be there to protect you, to make sure nothing happens to you. It’s ironic how he went from someone who wanted no emotional or physical attachments to someone who longs for you in his day-to-day life. He supposes Grogu helped him open up more than he realized.

“You’re right, ner vercopa,” he says, opening his eyes and meeting yours once again.

“How have you been since the last time we saw each other?”

“Same as it always is. Lonely.”

“I get it. All I do is work and go home.”

“You don’t have friends where you are?”

“Not really. There’s not many humans and I just feel like an outcast.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“…No, I am. Seriously there are like less than a hundred humans or so where I am.”

“Oh.”

“And most of them are rude. Probably because we live in such a terrible place.”

“But why is it so terrible? If you can remember,” he asks, trying to get more details about where you live so he can make his search for you easier.

“…I can’t,” you admit, feeling defeated.

“Hey, it’s okay. Forget about the real world. We’re here together and that’s all that matters.

You close the gap between you two again, holding each other silently while he rubs your back. All he wants to do is get you out of wherever you are. You don’t deserve to live in a place so terrible. You don’t deserve to feel like an outcast. If you were by side he’d do all he could to make you feel special, like you matter to him and that your presence makes a difference in his life.

“I don’t know if I like the location this time,” he says absentmindedly.

“Why not?” you ask, pulling back and tilting your head to the side and smirking like you know something he doesn’t.

“It’s… ominous… Do you like it?”

“Look behind you.”

He turns to look at what’s behind him and finds a bed.

He faces you again, matching the same smirk you’re wearing, picking up on what you’re suggesting.

“Dirty girl you are, vercopa,” he teases.

“What?” you say, putting on a faux defense. “It sure beats a wet field.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, his hand cupping the outline of your breast.

“Not so fast. Sit on the bed,” you say, pushing him back slightly.

“You’re gonna make me wait?” he says, sighing semi-dramatically.

“Who knows when we’ll have a bed again? I’m taking my time.”

He complies with your request, sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you with hooded eyes. You slowly remove each layer of clothing you’re wearing, making sure to tease him and build the suspense. He’s slack-jawed once you’re completely naked, his hand grazing his facial hair.

“Maker, you’re…”

“What?” you laugh.

“You’re perfect, ner vercopa,” he says, his bulge straining hard against the material of his pants.

You walk over to him, his arms finding their home around your waist as he looks up at you with adoring eyes. As he admires you, a feeling swells up in his chest that he’s never felt before. It’s overwhelming, almost too much because it’s uncharted territory. But at the same time, it means that this strange connection you share makes sense. He understands it for once. He loves you, even just the idea of you, regardless of whether you’re real. He can’t admit it to you yet – this is still so new, so tender. But he can’t deny how he feels, even if he has to keep it to himself for now.

You sink to the floor, kneeling before him and palming the bulge in his pants. His hands rest at his sides, gripping the sheets underneath him as you move your hand painstakingly slowly.

“Let’s get these off,” you say, running a finger along his belt.

He stands, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants before sitting on the bed, cock standing in front of your face. Your mouth falls open as you stare at it with wide eyes. He feels self-conscious for a moment before he remembers that you didn’t get a good look at it in the field. Regardless, he hopes your silent reaction is one of admiration.

You start by running your hand down his inner thigh, inching closer to his groin. The movement of your touch sets his skin aflame, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You’re so meticulous, so slow in the way you touch him, touching him like you want to do this. Like you want to show him how much you care about him through pleasuring him.

You press a kiss to his groin, soft lips against a patch of his hair, slowly moving to the base of his shaft. The hand on his thigh moves to his balls, cupping them as you finally take him into your mouth. It’s soft. It’s tender. It’s caring. He’s gotten head before, but never like this; never by someone who looks at him the way you do.

Your tongue slips in between the head of his cock and his foreskin, teasing him ever so slowly as your other hand wraps around his base. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, beading up before running down his shaft in a mixture with your saliva. You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while your hand moves up and down, following the movement of your mouth. You’re so focused on the task at hand that you haven’t even looked up to see his reaction yet. When you finally do, he feels like he could bust right there and then. He tries to maintain his composure, not wanting this moment to end, but it’s hard when you’re doing such a good job, looking at him with wide eyes as you take his cock further in your mouth.

He just can’t hold on anymore. He cums down your throat, orgasm intensified by the feeling of you swallowing his release. He has to fight the urge to close his eyes, to throw his head back in pleasure, not wanting to miss the beautiful sight before him.

Once he goes soft, you take him out of your mouth, resting on your heels and looking up at his post-orgasm glow. He leans forward, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you, a needy, passionate kiss that tells you he wants you now.

You stand to give him space to shed the remaining clothes he has on, kicking off his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. This is the first time he’s been completely naked in front of anyone but himself. The idea should make him nervous given his creed, but if he’s going to do this with anyone, of course it has to be with you.

Your hands are glued to his body instantly, hands running along every scar, every freckle, every stretch mark, every tattoo— all things he’s never shown anyone before. It makes him feel vulnerable but in a good way, letting him know that he’s comfortable being his raw self around you.

“You’re beautiful, Din,” you say, caressing his cheeks.

That’s the first time someone’s told him that, and he doesn’t want to believe you. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him, but he just can’t picture someone actually feeling that way about him when they gaze upon his face.

“I mean it,” you add, as if you could read his mind.

He wraps his hands around your wrists, gently squeezing them and closing his eyes.

“Sit on the bed for me,” you softly command, wanting to show him how much you desire him. He opens his eyes and removes his hands from yours, sitting back down on the bed and watching as you move to straddle him. You rest your hands on his shoulders, your cunt hovering over the tip of his cock. He reaches in between your legs, rubbing his cock along your folds, teasing you until you finally sink onto him, taking his length inside you.

His hands slide up your thighs and rest on your waist, eyes looking deeply into yours. You’re as close as two people could be, your hips rocking against him, slowly burying his cock deeper inside you.

“I like this,” he says, grunting as you move your hips again.

“Me too,” you say, one hand trailing up to his hair, wanting to make him melt like he did in the field. He moans, biting his lip and cursing under his breath. You just know all the ways to melt him down into nothing but a puddle on the floor, under the mercy of your touch. He leans forward and sinks his teeth into your collarbone, pulling a sharp gasp from you as you grip his hair tighter. He moans into your neck, a moan that says ‘do that again, show me I’m yours’.

He nips at your neck, dragging his tongue along the sensitive spots he’d just discovered. You grind your hips into him, fingers tangled in his hair as your bodies fall slack against each other. Your eyes flutter closed and it’s hard to tell where you each begin and end, limbs intertwined with one another, mouths glued to skin. Your mouth happens to fall by his ear, a perfect speaker for him to hear the way you come undone, crying against the shell of his ear. He feels like he could bust right there and then, your warm cunt enveloping his cock, hands in his hair, and melodic sounds that are like a song sung just for him.

You come undone, walls clenching and releasing his cock. You continue to grind your hips through your release and it causes him to follow suit. He bites down on your neck hard, humming into your skin as he paints your walls with his cum. The movement of your hips eventually slows and you finally come to a rest against him, staying still and enjoying each other's presence.

“You’re everything to me, ner vercopa,” he says softly, rubbing your back.

You exhale as if you don’t believe him and his arms tighten around you.

“I mean it,” he says, kissing the side of your face.

The urge to tell you he loves you consumes him once again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, threatening to break loose but he refrains, keeping his secret to himself.

Instead he asks, “Do you think there’s a reason we started appearing in each other’s dreams?”

“Do you need a reason?”

He wants to know why the galaxy bestowed you upon him but he gets the sense that you don’t, that you’re content with not knowing the truth.

“I guess not… Do you?”

“No,” you say simply, “Being here with you is enough. There’s no need to question a good thing… But if you need a reason, maybe the galaxy knew we were both lonely. Maybe there’s something we can learn from each other.”

He thinks about the last dream in the field and how you made him slow down and enjoy the rain. He thinks about your life compared to his, how you’re stuck in one place and how he has the freedom to roam the whole galaxy if he so pleases. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you can learn something from each other.

Eventually, he goes soft and starts to slip out of you. The two of you don’t really know what to do next. Usually, the dream would end by now. As he holds you and absentmindedly stares off, he notices something he didn’t before – a window.

It’s nighttime. Was there light outside when he found you? He can’t remember. He wasn’t focused on the time of day. He was focused on finding you. But something about the ominous dark window is unsettling to him. He just can’t figure out why.

As if you feel him go stiff, you ask, “Is everything alright?”

“I didn’t notice the window before,” he says, staring straight at it.

You pull yourself off of him, much to his dismay, and sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder and staring at the window.

“You were here before me,” he says, “Was it always dark out?”

“No,” you say, a wave of realization hitting you. “It wasn’t.”

“Weird,” he says.

You get up from the bed and walk towards the window. Din follows, slipping his arm around your waist. Just as you’re both finally comfortable with the night sky, it starts to change. Within seconds, the sun rises, casting the rolling field in a bath of warm light. You look at each other, noticing how his brown eyes are lit up by the sun.

“That’s strange… Right?”

“Right,” he affirms.

“We haven’t been asleep that long, have we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm,” you respond, turning and facing the window again.

The sun slowly inches up from the horizon line, hanging high up in the sky. The blades of grass are swaying in the wind, thriving under the sun. Everything is golden, bright, full of life.

He turns to look at you, the sun lighting up your face from the side. Everything about you is a first for him. He’s had sex before but never as loving and tender as it is with you. In fact, it was never loving or tender at all. It was always hard and fast, typically at a brothel in a town he was passing through for a bounty. It was just fucking, never sex with actual feelings attached.

And yet, deep in the back of his mind, part of him wonders if you’re real. Or if aspects of you are just figments of his imagination, the desires of his subconscious running wild. But another part of him knows that isn’t true. Part of him knows you’re real, somewhere in the galaxy yearning for his touch like he is with yours. That part of him is louder than the other.

It’s another moment like before where he wants to tell you he loves you. He wants to say it out loud because he’s proud; proud to have you as the person he loves. But he can’t. At least not yet.

Once again, just as you’re getting used to the brilliant daylight, the sun changes positions in the sky, sinking lower and starting to set.

“How strange,” you say, glancing out the window, “Time must work differently here.”

Just as you say that, a radio sitting on the bedside table starts playing music. It’s a song you don’t recognize but it makes you feel comforted; a song slow enough to sway to.

And that’s exactly what you do. He grabs your waist and pulls you in closer to him. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, softly moving back and forth, watching the sunset. It’s silent between you two but you don’t need to talk. He just wants to enjoy your company.

So the two of you stay there, slow dancing and watching the days fly by, from night to sunrise, to sunset, and back to night again. Time feels so slow but so fast at the same time. For once, your dream doesn’t end right after you have sex. You can finally enjoy each other’s company for once. But even then, when the dream finally ends, it’ll still feel too short, like you were robbed of time you could’ve spent together.

As the sunset begins to shift back into a dark night, the world starts to fade around you.

Din starts to shout, “Ni kar’tayl-” but he stops when you disappear from his view. It’s unclear if you heard him or not. And once again, he’s met with the same cold, uninviting bunk in the Razor Crest, wishing he was still holding you by the window.

You

Waking up from that one probably hurt the most. You roll over in bed and glance at your clock. Your shift started fifteen minutes ago. Great.

You’ve developed an unfortunate habit of being late to work. Whether it's because you’re at the library, reading about all the places you see in your dreams, or just sleeping, your dreams are causing you to be late.

You hastily scribble the details of your dream in your journal before begrudgingly getting ready for work. You’re anxious about what your supervisor will say to you. This is the third day in a row you’ve been late and the last shuttle for the day shift is leaving soon, so you need to haul your ass there.

Dashing to the shuttle, you just barely make it there in time for the last one, feeling like it’s moving slower than normal. Once it finally arrives at the factory, you’re sprinting to scan in and get to your post already. The elevator stops at your floor and once the doors open, you’re greeted by one of the SoroSuub droids.

“Employee 5526, you’re tardy again for the third shift in a row,” the droid says in its terrible robotic voice.

“Yes, I know. It won’t happen again, I swear-”

“If you reach five tardies, your employment will be terminated. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“To your post,” the droid says, stepping out of the way.

Your coworkers stare at you as you walk to your station. Whether it’s the embarrassment or the soul-sucking job you have, you decide that you’re getting out of here.

And so your plan begins. One way or another, you’re getting off this planet and searching for the man who lives in your dreams.

Gifs of Din from this chapter

Banners + dividers by @saradika-graphics

Art by Roger Mattos

WIAD Tag list: @wannab-urs @hyzer34 @milly-louise @hellfire-state-of-mind @dugiioh @handspunyarns @fckyeapedrothots99 @leithatnight @corazondebeskar @burntheedges @imherefordeanandbones @pamasaur @dameron-grant-spector @competitivedust @survivingandenduring @the-color-is-black @perennialdoll247 @littlegrungegirlaf @lupietra @bluebeary-jay @angstyvirgin001 @missladym1981 @alltheotps @lahooozaherr @that1nerd-20 @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @djarins-cyare @kirsteng42 @dins-riduur-anthe @pigeonmama

#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin series

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chelseeebe · 1 year

Text

dirty little secret.

NOT MY GIF!

summary: a babysitting gig at one of your dad's employee's houses leads to a filthy affair of secrets with a certain mr. harrington.

a/n: i have not proofread this one bit, i just wanted to get it posted so i could start on some ghostface!steddie hehe. i suppose this is another installment of the older!steve/mr.harrington saga though in my head they're different people.

he's a scummy scumbag but that's okay because it's sexy (don’t do this irl) smut and inappropriate relationship dynamics. r is 23/24 and steve is mid 40's ish.

it had all started fairly innocently.

a simple phone call asking if you could do some last minute babysitting. sure. easy enough.

earn some extra cash for doing absolutely nothing.

your dad had recommended you. someone who worked for him, steve or something or other, you’d met him before but that was years ago when you were much younger.

christ, you had a degree now. navigating the post-grad world. not with much luck.

the actual babysitting had been simple enough, feed the kids, put them to bed and now you could just relax.

the house was huge. obviously not decorated by a man, or at least not on his own. it was all meticulously designed, you’d never know there were kids living here. or anybody at all for that sake.

you’re lounging on the sparkling white couch waiting for this illusive steve to get back from wherever. your dad had said eleven but it was well past.

he makes an appearance at quarter to twelve, sighing loudly as he steps into the large hallway. the door makes you jump, sitting up straight on the sofa as if it were illegal to be sitting comfortably on such an expensive piece of furniture.

you peer over the back of the couch as he walks into the living room. finally putting a face to the name. you’d gone to his wedding reception so many years back, unhappy and moody as you’d been dragged along.

‘i am so sorry,’ he says, shaking his head and removing the tailored suit jacket, slinging it over a chair, ‘the dinner ran over and then it was just awful traffic.. how were they? i hope they didn’t give you too much shit,’ chuckling deeply.

‘no.. no, they were great,’ you nod, smiling weakly, standing up to gather your things and finally leave.

you couldn’t help but notice how tight his shirt was, clinging onto his defined arms. you draw your eyes away quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

‘good,’ he breathes, pouring himself a glass of whisky out of the obviously insanely expensive bottle, ‘d’you drink?’ offering a glass to you.

‘uhh.. not whisky,’ laughing quietly, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the obscenely large room.

‘it’s good stuff,’ he shrugs, still holding the second glass to you.

‘i’m okay.. thank you though,’ you nod, stepping closer to him. he smelled great. expensive.

‘fair enough,’ he laughs, taking a short sip, ‘right.. you wanna be paid,’ digging around his pocket for his wallet.

his pants also incredibly well fitted. there’s no need to mention what they were showcasing.

you give him a tight lipped smile, looking anywhere but his crotch.

his wallet is almost overflowing, stuffed with notes and various cards. you try not to gawp at the sight. your dad most definitely did not flex like this.

he hands you four fifty dollar bills, holding the pile in your palm. fingers clasping your hand. the sensation alone is enough to give you butterflies.

‘that’s too much,’ you shake your head, trying to refuse. a whole two hundred dollars to make mac and cheese and watch television.

‘no no, take it, thank you for coming so last minute, have you got a ride home? i can get you a cab?’ he nods, maintaining heavy eye contact, honestly making you squirm.

‘i drove.. thank you so much,’ placing the notes into your bag, still under his heavy gaze.

‘okay,’ he smiles, ‘i’ll uh- i’ll get your number from your dad for next time.. if you don’t mind?’

‘uhh..yeah sure.’

‘great.. thank you, again,’ his hand brushes against your arm, causing the goosebumps to rise instantly.

you give him one last shy smile and walk to the oversized front door. baffled by the things you were feeling. the small yearning feeling bubbling in your stomach. a man god knows how many years your senior. it felt wrong.

dirty.

the next time you babysit for him, he’s prepared. a bottle of fancy vodka left next to the whisky.

‘you’re a vodka girl, right? i can tell,’ he winks, a deep laugh erupting from his throat as he pours the clear liquid into a glass.

‘ahh.. how’d you know?’ you smile, not wanting to refuse the man, especially as he’d gone out of his way to get this for you.

he taps his temple, holding the drink out to you, ‘intuition..’

the conversation flows on, telling him about your degree and where you planned to go with it. him humbly flexing his own work, talking about the various connections he could make for you.

‘i know you’re robert’s daughter but i just.. i feel like i’ve seen you before,’ his eyebrows squeeze together, knee almost touching yours as his legs spread across the sofa.

‘i uh- i actually went to your wedding, the reception at least,’ you laugh, still heavily avoiding eye contact even though you could feel his eyes boring into your face.

‘oh my god, that’s right.. you were miserable,’ his laughter rumbles through the room, if the house weren’t so big you’d be worried about it waking the kids. not a chance they could hear a thing in this mansion.

‘i was.. i didn’t know you! my dad made us go,’ you giggle, just about meeting his dark eyes before quickly glancing down at his hand grasping the glass, noticing the lack of wedding ring.

he notices, rubbing the empty finger, ‘no,’ chuckling, ‘we’re not.. if you were wondering,’ you can’t tell if it’s a smirk or just his slightly tipsy smile.

‘sorry,’ you breathe, awkward that he’d noticed your attempt at subtlety.

‘don’t be.. we’re still married for now, but we’re not together,’ he nods, seemingly unaffected by the separation.

‘oh.. right,’ you chuckle, unsure of how you’d ended up discussing his divorce at midnight on a friday night. it wasn’t exactly anywhere near where you’d pictured yourself being after graduation.

‘d’you have a boyfriend?’ he asks, shifting slightly to face more towards you, still nursing the neat whisky.

you shake your head, ‘no.. not at the moment,’ staring just past him as to not make direct eye contact.

‘oh, i thought for sure someone would’ve snatched you up,’ his gaze falters, lingering on your exposed thigh, your skirt had slightly ridden up as you’d sat.

‘surprisingly not,’ weary as to whether you should pull your skirt down or let his eyes loiter. opting for the latter.

the attention was nice. unexpected. but not unappreciated. it made your stomach tight, slightly intimidated by his dark eyes.

‘hmm, that’s a shame,’ his tongue runs along his bottom lip, eyes slowly making their way up to meet yours.

you don’t know what to do. where to leave your eyes. his intense stare only worsening your composure. you’d have probably thrown yourself at him if he didn’t answer to your dad. complicating matters immensely.

‘you want another drink?’ he asks, leaning closer, shaking his own empty glass.

‘no.. thank you,’ the words struggle to come out, throat dry at the proximity of his body to yours. the smell of whisky and his cologne mixing to create an intoxicating smell.

‘sure?’ he reiterates, smirking as his eyes fall to your parted lips. mostly trying to regain air into your lungs.

your breath hitches in your throat, suddenly unable to speak, watching as he slowly moves over. cocky smile plastered across his face, relishing in your spreading blush.

he brings his face to within just a few inches of yours, pausing, ‘tell me if this is too much,’ the feel of his breath against your nose.

you shake your head slightly, almost paralysed by his eyes. it was confirmation enough for steve. his lips brushing yours softly, as his free hand moves to rest just above your knee.

your lips move with his, tasting the remnants of the expensive alcohol as his tongue glides across your bottom lip and into your mouth. a quiet gasp comes out as his fingers slide up your leg, his smirk evident against your mouth.

letting him take full control of the kiss, leaning back as his chest presses against yours. he takes full advantage of your new position, fingers creeping up your already short skirt.

you move back fully, back against the soft cushions. he doesn’t break the kiss as he moves on top, sliding between your now open legs, groaning into your mouth when your hands finally touch him.

resting on his shoulders as he manoeuvres his body, fitting perfectly with yours. he pulls back from the kiss, taking a brief moment to catch his breath, looking into your eyes for encouragement.

you haven’t enough time to process anything before his hips begin to move against yours, lips now attacking your jaw line. peppering kisses and gentle nibbles to the skin, eliciting a barely audible moan from your throat.

his hand had found it’s way to your panties, fingers rubbing against the cotton, ‘holy shit,’ he mumbles into your neck, ‘you’re already soaked.’

you recoil, burying your face into the pillow next to your head. this only makes him laugh, his body vibrating against yours as your panties are pushed aside, two fingers circling your entrance before slipping inside.

‘shit,’ you curse into the pillow, gripping onto his shirt.

his other hand comes up, coaxing your face out of the pillow with a gentle hand. when you finally emerge you can feel your cheeks heat up, his blown out pupils gazing back at you.

‘look at me,’ his voice bellows out, ensuring your attention stays firmly on him. you almost want to look away, just to see what he’d do.

there’s a small voice from somewhere up the stairs, ‘daddy,’ it whines and steve groans above you.

‘shit.. two minutes,’ he curses, removing his hand from underneath your skirt, climbing off of the couch.

you’re immediately jolted back to earth. back to mr. harrington’s living room where you were immodestly dressed. you sit up, face screwed up in disgust at your frankly whorish actions and pull your skirt down to an appropriate length.

‘fuck,’ you hiss to yourself, what the hell where you doing? screwing around with your dad’s employee who by the way, was at least double your age, was not on your cards.

you stand, frantic to gather your things and escape before he comes back down. you’d just ignore him if he called again. you could cut the loss on whatever you were owed for tonight.

you’re halfway down the long corridor when he creeps down the stairs, ‘sneaking out?’ his voice appears from behind, making you jump halfway out of your skin.

spinning on your heel to face him, every part of your body heating up with embarrassment, ‘i should get home..’

‘you don’t have to.. stay,’ he grins, walking towards you, one hand brushing against your arm.

you swallow, knowing exactly where that hand had been just minutes earlier. the feel of his bulge moving against your thigh. you almost shudder at the thought.

‘i shouldn’t..’ you manage to squeak out, mind preoccupied by what was hidden under those tight-fitted suit pants.

‘it’s late, i’m sure your dad wouldn’t want you driving at this time,’ he bargains, fingers squeezing around your arm.

‘okay,’ you breathe, relinquishing your stance, it seems it didn’t take much.

‘good,’ he nods, a smug expression overtakes his features, ‘give me two minutes,’ letting go of your arm and walking back into the dimly living room.

you stand awkwardly in the hallway, clutching your small bag and waiting for him to return from whatever the fuck he was doing. it was honestly made worse with the anticipation of what was to come. it was inevitable.

the light snaps off and he re-emerges, clutching onto a small glass of whiskey, motioning for you to climb the stairs.

you oblige as he follows closely, spare hand reaching up to rest on the small of your back.

‘ah.. i don’t think the guest bedroom has been cleaned.. i can make up the bed for you quickly if you want?’ he hushes, hand dropping to hover just above your ass.

you roll your eyes instinctively, it would seem men never grow out of the awful frat-boy tactics. he feigns shock for a brief moment before guiding you further up the hallway, towards his own room.

you hold your breath, entering the room. a large bed with silk covers takes up most of the room. he closes the door softly behind him, flicking on the lamp and setting his drink on the bedside table.

you marvel at the room, the extravagance of it all. it honestly could’ve passed as a five star hotel. he walks back over to you, running his hands around your rigid frame. unexpected overcome with nerves.

‘relax,’ he breathes, nudging his face into your neck, pressing amorous kisses down onto your exposed collarbone.

a small sigh leaving your mouth, which steve loves. taking it as a sign to continue, walking you over to the bed, hands groping any flesh they could.

your skirt flipped up over your ass as he continues the attack on your neck. your hands finally settling on his muscular shoulders, clinging on to his white shirt as you're dipped back onto the bed, his body climbing on top of yours.

'wow,' he mumbles, muffled by the crook of your neck, hands roaming the length of your body, 'so pretty.'

his large palm glides up, lifting your shirt with it, the cold air immediately leaving goosebumps over the exposed skin. only worsened by his soft fingertips trailing along behind your shirt, breaking apart long enough to pull it over your head.

your mouth falling open when his lips find their way to your neck once again, sucking on the tender skin. your fingers absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt, defined shoulders peeking out as you gently tug it down his arms.

moving down to rid him of his pants, not ignoring how big he already felt under your palm, wondering if you'd even be able to take him all.

'y'sure about this?' he asks into your neck, fumbling with your panties as your hand tries and fails to undo his belt buckle.

you nod, cheek brushing against his mess of hair still buried in your neck. he reappears, gazing down at you as your fingers continue to fumble with the expensive, over-complicated belt.

you finally unclasp the metal, gasping as his cold hands brush against your thighs, fingers finding their way to your sensitive clit, circling around, causing a hushed moan. terribly aware that his children were not too far from you.

‘j-jesus,’ you mumble, sliding down his tailored trousers and rutting your hips against his, feeling his already very erect cock against your centre.

he’s still staring down at you, inches away from your face, unable to decipher the look on his face, a mix between animalistic desire and lust.

your legs lock around his torso and he wastes no time in aligning himself with your entrance, only breaking eye contact to look down at the space between your bodies before sliding in, a raspy moan vibrating from his throat.

hand sliding from the back of his already moist neck, down onto his shoulders, his shirt half-off as he thrusts in and out, pressing his forehead against yours. it feels incredibly intimate, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, the sounds of his balls slapping against your drenched cunt.

your head falls back onto the pillow, hair splayed out around you, rhythmically slamming into you. eyes fluttering closed when his thumb finds your sensitive clit once more. he grins when your hips buck against his in instant approval.

'yeah? y'like that?' he breathes, slowing his pace as you clench around him, nearing your climax. you can't open your eyes to look at him, the immense feeling of pleasure growing in your lower abdomen.

his gruff groans only accelerating your orgasm, 'sh-shit,' you babble, digging your nails into his skin as you reach your peak, waves of hot pleasure running through your body, thighs squeezing his torso, pulling him deeper as you writhe against him.

a series of expletives tumble from your lips, loosening your grip on his skin as he continues thrusting into your now sensitive cunt. the sound of your sweet moans pushing steve to his own orgasm, hips stuttering with his final few strokes before pulling out, painting your thighs with his load.

his mouth hangs open as he catches his breath, running a hand through his damp hair, watching as you come back down to earth. you brave opening your eyes, catching his amorous stare, a small smile overtaking his face.

you're unsure of how to feel, slightly embarrassed, still laid bare on the cotton bedsheets, scrambling to cover yourself as he reaches for a previously discarded towel. cleaning the mess he had made on your skin.

'well.. i'm glad you didn't sneak out,' he simpers, removing collapsing onto the bed beside you, fully removing the half-undone shirt from his body.

'me too,' you attempt to contain the smile on your face with the pillow, though it doesn't really work, exposing your smugness.

he sits up slightly, peering over you to the alarm clock on the bedside table, 'it's late, y'should probably just stay here.. just say i got back super late,' falling back onto the mattress.

you nod, not wanting to defy his suggestion. not that you wanted to leave anyway, fairly happy to stay right here with him.

steve pulls the satiny covers fully over the both of you, turning on his side to face you. dimly lit by the definitely overpriced lamp in the corner of the room. his hand comes up to your waist, pulling your body into his.

you're clueless as to how this had all transpired. now in what was technically your bosses bed, falling asleep in the older man's arms with no idea how you'd explain this to your dad in the morning.

steve's lips wake you in the morning, his stubble brushing against your shoulder as you blink, remembering where the hell you were.

you hadn't woken when he'd got up earlier to get his kids ready for school, probably for the best. not wanting to answer questions as to why their new babysitter was still here in the morning, dressed in their dad's shirt.

'good morning,' he breathes, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, strong arms snaking around your waist.

'hi,' you respond, slowly coming to, relaxing into his embrace.

'nancy's taken the kids to school.. we've got a little time before i've gotta work,' you can feel his smirk, wandering hands already finding themselves between your thighs.

'your ex-wife was here?' sounding slightly panicked, knowing deep down that whatever had happened last night would land the both of you in serious trouble.

steve picks up on your worry, planting a wet kiss to your shoulder, 'don't worry.. she just picks them up, we're good,' reassuring you only slightly.

before you can dwell on the thought too much, his erection presses against your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. you giggle, moving your leg to allow further access.

not quite sure what exactly was going on but absolutely elated to be involved.

your dad always had an extravagant party for his birthday. like, unnecessarily big with far too much money poured into it. you’d had to miss the last few years as his birthday fell in finals week.

the last time you remember going was when you were seventeen, you’d sat in the corner for the entire night watching as everyone danced and got drunk. wishing you could’ve been literally anywhere else in the moment.

this year, you’d have to go and deal with the fact steve was also there. in his best suit with those sickly fitting pants, hair perfectly styled and smelling like that intoxicating cologne you loved.

and you’d have to do it all without giving any inclination as to what was going on between you. it was about to be the hardest night of your life.

steve had even helped you pick out your dress. obviously opting for the most revealing option, trying to play it off as just liking you in black. you’d sworn there was a teenage boy alive inside of that man.

the last few weeks had been spent with him, mostly under the guise of babysitting. spending days at a time in his glorious house, waiting for nancy to collect the kids so you could leave his room. indulging in luxurious breakfasts, sharing clothes and enough sex to keep you satisfied for life.

not without plenty of gifts, hand-crafted pieces of jewelry and god knows how many bright bouquets of flowers now littered around your room. even adorning the beautiful diamond necklace you'd received last week, tonight.

your sister had questioned the sudden abundance of gifts but you'd carefully brushed her off, putting it down to some new guy you'd been seeing, she wouldn't know him.

the start of the party was absolutely fine. sipping on some rather expensive white wine, listening to your father go on and on about his life, never missing an opportunity to talk about you and your sister.

it was inevitable that at some point you would have to speak to steve. especially as you were his new babysitter and seemed to be over there a hell of a lot, working.

‘she’s great, isn’t she?’ your dad boasts, standing between you and steve.

your eyes meet his, a sight you’d actually missed all night. taking your bottom lip between your teeth, a small knowing smile on your lips.

‘yeah, absolutely.. i’d be lost without her,’ steve grins, nudging your dads arm. his eyes don’t leave yours, blood rushing to your cheeks, playing it off as just being bashful at all of the attention.

‘you’re over there enough, i’m surprised you let her have the night off,’ your dad laughs, slinging his arm around your shoulder and rubbing your arm.

‘ahh of course, she can have anything she wants,’ he clears his throat, continuing to make heavy eye contact, ‘she’s such a big help y’know?’

‘too right,’ your dad laughs, clinking his glass against steve’s.

you want to get the fuck out of there, unsure if you had the strength to not fucking pounce on steve the second your dad looked away.

the chat goes on for a little while, switching topics to unimaginably boring topics like whatever it was they did for work. steve had attempted to explain it to you, not that it was much help.

the small group disperses into their own groups and you’re left stood opposite steve, clutching onto your wine glass trying your damn hardest not to let your eyes falter to his package.

he leans in, whispering into your ear, ‘come and find me in five minutes.. there’s an empty meeting room down the hall, you’ll know which one,’ before pulling away, you suspect to go to said room.

you almost don’t want to. let him sit there waiting on his own as revenge for the flirtatious words he’d spoken about you to your dad. you don’t. obviously.

there was not a chance you could leave him be, especially not with the way he looked tonight.

besides, it was kinda fun. risky. there wasn’t much risk involved when you were at his house. other than dodging nancy in the mornings and hoping praying that the kids wouldn’t walk in in the middle of the night.

you give a quick look around, patting the older woman on the arm as you break away from the conversation you were only half-included in. trying not to trip over your feet as you exit, trying to find this meeting room.

there’s a row of almost identical doors and you want to curse him out when the last door in the corridor is adorned with a large, silver 69 nailed to the wood.

you open the door slowly, edging your way into the room when you’re pulled into the darkness. large hands grabbing at your waist holding your body against his chest.

‘oh my god,’ you say, almost too loudly, holding yourself steady as you grip onto his shirt sleeves.

‘shh..’ he hushes, you can just about make out his features from the small amount of light being let into the room. half of his face engulfed in the shadows.

‘you’re a child,’ you smirk, slightly tipsy and very much desperate for his touch.

‘i knew you’d find it,’ he chuckles, fingers digging into the fat around your waist, eager to feel the skin beneath your dress.

‘you’re not fu-,’ you’re interrupted by his lips crashing against yours, trying to pull you even closer. he’d mesh your skin with his if he could.

your hands move to cup his face, palms running against the stubble on his cheeks. jesus christ he could have you right here. you wouldn’t even care at this point.

his fingers inch your already short dress up, riding to the top of your thighs. you slip your tongue into his mouth, the one tiny bit of dominance you had in this situation.

a low groan rumbles into your mouth as one hand glides down his torso, stopping just above his belt. he manoeuvres both of you backwards, crashing into a rogue desk, fingertips surely leaving bruises as they clutch onto you.

‘we can’t,’ he mumbles, lips resting on the side of your mouth, leaving small, wet kisses as your fingers work on undoing his belt buckle.

‘we can,’ you nod frantically, aching to feel him inside of you.

the metal clanks together as you get it unbuckled, sliding a hand into his pants, palming above his boxers at his growing cock as he grunts into your mouth. falling apart at your touch.

the hallway light flickers on fully, footsteps leading up the corridor, stopping just before the room you were in. you pull your head back, eyes wide, just about seeing his worried expression.

‘well we’re about to do the cake, where is she?’ the voice you now recognise as your sister’s echoes in the hallway.

hand still comfortably dipped into his trousers as your head snaps to the door, making desperate pleas to god and anyone else above that she’d turn back around.

‘shit..’ he whispers, pulling your hand from his boxers by your wrist, distressed as your sister walks further up the hallway and back down.

you’re confident she’s back in the main hall as you exhale, relief washing over you, ‘oh my god,’ you giggle slightly, it was pretty funny now the immediate threat had gone.

steve does not share the amusement, his face straight as zips his pants back up, pulling away from you. you screw up your face in confusion, yanking your dress back down to an appropriate length.

‘jesus fucking christ,’ he huffs, tucking his shirt back in.

‘oh c’mon.. it’s fine, she doesn’t know.. no one knows,’ you frown, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to reassure him.

‘this was a stupid idea,’ jerking his arm away.

‘this was your idea,’ utterly dumbfounded by his attitude, nothing bad had happened so was the annoyance really necessary?

‘i know that- look, you should get back out there,’ he shoos you off to the door.

‘why are you being so weird? it’s fine,’ you breathe, now slightly offended that he was being so mean.

‘go.. they’re looking for you,’ patting your back, ‘i’ll slip out in a minute.’

one of the downsides to an older man definitely included his lack of a sense of humour. you didn’t appreciate having to explain simple jokes or why you found something funny. it was as if he felt the need to be serious about everything.

you shake your head as you slip out of the door, making sure the hallway was empty. there’s a lump in your throat. he still clearly thought of you as a child. someone that needed to be told what to do.

steve doesn’t make eye contact with you for the rest of the night. carefully averting his eyes when you’d try desperately to garner his attention. you don’t even notice him slip out of the door, deserting your plans to go over when the party had ended.

it all felt terribly embarrassing. not that you’d even done anything wrong. it was his idea to go to the room. nothing had even happened, your sister still had no idea anything was even happening between you.

you call him when you’re eventually home and sure everyone else was asleep. sitting cross-legged on your bed, the phone pulled over and resting on your lap.

‘hello?’ he speaks groggily into the phone. you’re shocked he’d even answered.

‘oh hello, d’you remember me?’ you reply, still slightly tipsy and now sharing the anger he’d obviously felt earlier.

he sighs and you can hear him sit up, bedsheets rustling in the back, ‘i’m sorry.. it was just- that was too close.. i can’t lose my job, you know that.’

‘nothing even happened, steve! you’re not gonna lose your fucking job,’ you snap, gripping onto the plastic receiver.

‘i know.. i just have to be careful- we have to be careful,’ once again trying to spin it as if you’d been the one to drag him into the damned room.

‘we are,’ you swallow, vision blurred as the lump in your throat reappears, ‘i know you’re scared but you don’t have to take it out on me.’

he exhales, ��okay, i’m sorry,’ sounding only slightly remorseful.

‘i wanna see you,’ you sniff, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, ‘can i come over?’

‘it’s late,’ he notes, you can hear the sheets rustle again and the soft padding of his feet as he gets up.

‘that doesn’t answer my question,’ deepening your frown, picking at a loose thread on your shorts.

you can still hear him doing whatever the fuck he was doing in the background, ‘i’ll be there in fifteen.. round the back.’

your frown immediately disappears, ‘okay,’ putting the phone down and jumping from your bed, getting your stuff ready to go.

you’re there waiting for him around the back of your house, an empty dimly lit road. you practically ran to his car when his headlights turned the corner.

sliding into the seat, slightly damp from the rain that’d started, he looks over quickly before speeding off. not giving anyone the chance to spot you.

there’s a small silence before you speak up, ‘i’m sorry,’ apologising for seemingly nothing. it didn’t matter, really. as long as he wasn’t mad anymore.

his hand comes over, resting on your knee, ‘we just have to be careful.. i wasn’t really angry.’

‘i know,’ you nod, though you didn’t. he seemed angry enough. enough to outwardly upset you.

you swallow any feelings of dejection. he'd apologised after all. what was the issue?

steve had been awfully quiet. suddenly not requiring your services as often. being overly cautious about your relationship, calling every few days and only inviting you over when the kids were with nancy.

you’re not afraid to bring it up when you do eventually go over. he was faffing about with some paperwork, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as you sit and watch.

‘why are you being so off with me?’ you speak up, curling your feet up underneath you.

‘hmm?’ he hums, barely lifting his head to acknowledge the fact you’d just spoken to him.

you huff, ‘you’re not even listening,’ crossing your arms over your chest.

‘i am,’ he slowly tears his eyes from the paper, looking over at you, ‘what’d you say?’

‘i said, why are you being weird with me?’

‘what?’ shaking his head, looking back at the numbers on the sheet.

you want to scream. tear the piece of paper into tiny shreds and sprinkle them across the living room.

‘you don’t call me, you don’t want to see me.. i don’t understand what i’ve done,’ you frown, shifting your position to face him fully.

he sighs, long and exaggerated, ‘that’s not true, nancy’s had the kids more.. i just haven’t needed you here as much,’ shrugging you off.

‘oh, so now i’m only your babysitter? you only need me here to fuck, is that it?’

‘you’re twisting my words,’ he finally puts the paper down completely, taking his glasses off and placing them on top of the pile.

‘so what am i? your babysitter or your girlfriend? i’m getting confused,’ sarcastic as you were losing your temper. he was great at evading the question at hand.

he blinks, ‘i’m not gonna argue with you, if that’s what you’re looking for,’ rubbing his temples.

‘answer the question.’

he’d never explicitly called you his girlfriend. you’d just sort of assumed that your relationship had gone past secret hookups. what with all the time spent together, the long hours spent chatting and the occasional, far-too-expensive gifts he’d gotten you.

‘you’re my.. i don’t know, my girlfriend?’ he’s so nonchalant with it all. only pissing you off further.

it was blatantly obvious just why his previous marriage hadn’t worked out.

‘do you want that?’ you ask earnestly, narrowing your eyes at him.

‘well not when you’re like this.’

it must’ve been a skill of his, to make you feel so crazy. so guilty for just wanting some clarification on your relationship.

you’re left speechless, opening your mouth to reply but nothing coming out. you look down, trying not to let him see your tears.

‘you know how i feel about you,’ he sighs, caressing your cheek, running his thumb over the blushed skin.

you nod under his grasp, squeezing your eyes to stop them from leaking.

‘yeah? you gonna stop being silly?’ he says softly, moving in closer. your eyes meet his, watering as a rogue tear slips out and rolls onto his hand.

you felt like a petulant child. like you’d just been told off and needed to be comforted. except, you only wanted to be comforted by him. his touch being the only thing to settle you.

you’d do anything to keep that. even if it meant biting your tongue and being ignored a few times a week.

he smiles when you place your hand above his, leaning into his touch. accepting that to have this, you had to take whatever he would give you.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #older!steve #steve harrington au #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things smut

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a-spes · 9 months

Text

S T A I N E D H E A R T S - One shot.

Words count - 1,4k.

Tags & Warnings - Natasha Romanoff x reader, a bit of angst / comfort.

Summary - Fury sent you and Natasha on a mission even if he knows you are in a relationship.

— — — — —

You are on the roof of a building, laying on the dust, not letting your eyes out of the window of your target’s apartment. The window is on the opposite building, right in front of you, if he decides to finally come back, you would be able to shoot him quite easily.

Except that he is not here, probably decided it was a good day to stay longer outside. You sigh, starting to be impatient. According to the informations given to you, he should have been here two hours ago, it’s been twice the time you have been waiting him to open this fucking door, barely moving.

“ I swear, if Fury gave us the wrong address, I am gonna chop his head off ” you mumble. Throught the communication device, Natasha can be heard chuckling.

You almost forgot that you are not alone in that mission. While you are waiting on a roof, laying on the concrete for hours, burning under the summer sun, she is comfortably sitting in a car parked near to the target’s building. Since you got here, none of you talked, except a few words from time to time because he was supposed to arrive soon and you both needed to concentrate. At least, he was supposed to show up. He is still not here.

“ I am serious, ‘tasha ” you add. Most of the agents would be fired if they dared to talk to Fury the way you are, but he needs you too much for that. Also, he probably appreciates you more than he wants to admit it.

“ I know, love, I know ” she replies and, if you can’t see her, you know she is smiling, it is something you can tell by her tone.

An additional ten minutes elapsed before the wait was eventually worth it, you sighed in relief when you saw him. The man enters the building, coming into the apartment a few minutes later, all under your surveillance, you aren’t missing any of his movements.

“ Here you go ” you whisper.

You can hear Natasha saying something like she gets it and doesn’t want you to move but you can’t be sure, the man taking all your attention at the moment. In fact you are not here to kill him, you are supposed to do it just in case things go wrong - it would be a shame to kill the man that has the information you need.

In fact, the plan is supposed to be very simple, at least according to Fury. But, to be honest, if you are listening to him, the missions are always easy. However, working for him made you learn things never go the way they are supposed to : in Fury’s language, easy is just a synonym for death trap.

Obviously this mission is no different from the others. The man you are looking for has something you need to take back before it can be used by the terrorist organization he is working for. He is just a subordinate so, in theory, it shouldn’t be that hard. You don’t know much more about the story, Fury rarely gives a lot of information : he asks you something, you do it and then you get the money. It is how things work and, even if most of the time it annoys you, here you are, exactly where he wants you to be.

“ Crap ! ” she exclaims.

“ Nat’ ? Is everything okay ? ” you immediately ask, your voice being full of worries. Your girlfriend is not the kind of person to curse, it is more your thing, hearing her using such words is a sign that something is not going well.

“ Yeah - ” she starts but she is being cut by a loud noise, as if she is thrown against a furniture. Oddly, you don’t believe her when she assures you that everything is fine. “ Stay where you are. ”

“ What a liar … ” you mumble. The problem with going on missions with Natasha as a partner is that she is trying too hard to keep you safe. She doesn’t think twice before putting herself in danger, even when it is unecessary, just so you don’t get hurt.

And it is exactly what she is doing right now. You are trying to keep an eye on her through the apartment’s window but you can’t see anything, they must be fighting in another room.

“ Fuck it ” you eventually say. This time, you are the one cursing and Natasha doesn’t even make a comment about it. All you can hear from her side are some fight noises, she probably didn’t even hear you talking.

You really tried to do as she asked you but the wait is unbearable. There is a difference between not moving for hours, waiting for a target to show up, and not moving while your girlfriend might need your help. Even if she is probably doing fine on her own, your worries make seconds seem like hours and staying here is impossible.

A few minutes later, you decide to leave your position to lead to the building she is in. The closest you get from the apartment, the loudest the noises are. It is until they suddenly stop, leaving you with an odd silence : the time you get here, the fight must’ve stopped and you don’t know how you feel about that news. As the door is wide open, you can easily make your way into the dark apartment. It has a living-room with an open kitchen but those rooms are empty so you decide to keep walking, entering the corridor that leads to the other pieces. The sunlight can barely come in so you have to be careful, you know it.

“ You better be alive ” you whisper as you slowly make your way into the apartment.

Suddenly, you feel a movement on your right. Sadly, by the time you realize, it is already too late. Your mind is too busy worrying about your lover that you forgot to pay attention to your surroundings, a rookie mistake.

It all happens in a few seconds, so quickly that your gun is useless. An arm around your throat, your opponent is holding you firmly and struggling is useless as they would tighten their grip until you can barely breathe. If you want to get out of that situation, you are gonna need to outsmart them.

“ Love ? ” the voice says. She immediately lets you go. “ I told you to stay where you were, why can’t you listen for once ? ” at her tone you can guess that she is really mad at you right now.

“ Can’t let you have all the fun while I am waiting, can I ? ” you reply once your breathing is back to normal.

You don’t really mind her harsh tone, you know that it is not against you. Natasha fears that you could get hurt, sure, but she is even more scared by the idea that it could be because of her. You told her many times that it won’t happen but she doesn’t listen to you, the person she was being stuck in her mind, even years after she left the Red Room.

In any case, you can see that your joke didn’t make her laugh. Your attempt to lighten the mood is a failure, all you get in exchange is Natasha’s dead-stare, the one that makes you immediately go quiet. You know that anything that you could say from now would only make things worse. Slowly, you come closer to Natasha, your hands taking hers. At first, she is tense, her first are clenched, but she eventually lets it go, wrapping her fingers around yours. It is the only way you know to comfort her when she is in that state, prisoner of her past.

“ There is blood ” you quietly say after a few minutes of silence, looking at her bloody hands. Her suit is in a similar state. “ Not mine ” she replies in the same tone, and a soft smile appears on both of your faces. As you look behind her back you can, indeed, notice three men. They are laying on the floor, all unconscious and tied and you weren’t expecting less from the woman you love.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #reader insert #x reader #black widow #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu women #mcu au #StainedHearts #light angst #comfort #angst and comfort

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cherryobx · 2 years

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𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐑.𝐂.

requested?: hell ye

summary: Rafe steps in when you're fighting with your dad and takes you back to his place to comfort you.

warnings: abusive parent, language, hurt/comfort trope, showering together (it's PG, guys)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: Rafe has his own place. Listened to the song "go to war" by nothing more and i think it fits this fic pretty well.

gif's not mine, creds to the original owner!

Rafe hated when you were at home. Your dad was a bad person. And that was lightly said. He knew from his own experience that parents sometimes weren’t really good at, you know, parenting. He called you every night to make sure you were okay and if you wanted to sleep over at his place.

So a few nights a week you stayed with Rafe. It was good to sleep while actually feeling safe and loved. You felt all warm and protected when your boyfriend's arms were around you, keeping you as close to him as possible. You were tired of staying up all night, too scared to go to sleep because you never knew how drunk your dad actually was and what he was up to. It was terrifying that the person who was supposed to love you the most hurt you instead.

When you were lucky, he was so drunk by the time you got home that he was passed out on the couch in front of the TV. But other times he wasn’t. And that’s when you had to deal with yelling, breaking dishes and furniture and on particularly bad nights even violence.

One night, when you hadn’t shown up at Rafe’s place on time, he got worried. He called you but you didn’t pick up. So he hopped in the car and drove over to your house. He was chewing on his lips, worry getting the best of him.

As soon as he pulled up to the house he noticed that the front door was wide open due to which he heard the yelling all over to his car.

Leaving the car running he ran up to the house, walked right in and followed the noise to the living room. Your dad was in the middle of the room while you were backed up into a corner, a chair in your hands raised as a defence against him. Your nose was bloody and it looked like there was a bruise forming on your cheek.

There was broken glass all over the carpeted floor, probably from beer bottles tossed around before he arrived.

“Get the fuck back! Don’t come closer!” you yelled at your dad, voice breaking.

“I can do what ever the fuck I want, I’m your dad.” He attempted to approach you but Rafe intervened, making himself known in the room. He stood between you and your dad, shielding you from his sight.

“Y/N, get in the car,” he said without breaking eye contact with your father who looked like he was about to explode from anger.

You quickly ran towards the door and Rafe’s car in front of the house.

“No, Y/N, get the fuck back here!”

Rafe swiftly grabbed your father’s throat, pushing him roughly against the wall. “You shut the fuck up before I tear your fucking throat out so you can’t say anything ever again.”

You sat in the passenger seat anxiously, leg bouncing as you couldn’t contain your nerves. You were too high on adrenaline, survival mode switched on, to even register what had just happened. One moment you were sitting on your bed reading a book and the other you were being dragged out of your room. You smelled the alcohol even before he grabbed you harshly, probably leaving behind a bruise in the shape of a hand.

Your dad had never hit you in the face before. It was always places you could cover up and hide. But that night was different for some reason. But you weren’t sure why.

Soon Rafe stormed out of your house and entered the car, immediately backing out of your driveway and speeding away. He looked like he had taken a beating as well.

“You’re hurt.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His both hands were on the wheel, knuckles white from the anger.

“Of course it does. You got hurt because of me. Because I couldn’t protect myself.”

The car came to a halt.

“Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not bleeding right now because of you, even though I would gladly bleed out for you. I’m hurt because your dad’s an asshole who can't keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself. And you’re able to protect yourself, I know you are. But he needed his ass beat for once and I would happily do it again anytime. You did nothing wrong. You got that?”

You nodded, a sob stuck in your throat that you didn’t want to let out. You weren’t weak, you could keep it together.

“Good.” He started driving again.

You turned your head to the other side, looking out of the car window and seeing the scenery you passed, white picket fence houses with happy families living inside.

You saw your own reflection in the window and wanted to break down crying. This girl was as broken as one could be. She looked small, helpless. You didn’t want to look like that, to feel like that.

Rafe parked the car and switched the ignition off and you left the car.

You walked in side by side. You gently slipped your hand in his in search for that comforting feeling he always provided for you. He lightly squeezed your hand in response as he unlocked the door with his other hand. He let you enter first so he could lock the door again behind you two.

As soon as you stepped into his home you finally let your emotions bubble up, explode. You sobbed as you leaned against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed by your outburst.

“Hey.” Rafe crouched in front of you, softly pulling your hands away from your face and raising your chin so you’d look him into the eyes. You could barely see him through the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Let’s go get cleaned up. Is that alright?” His voice was quiet and soft. He hated seeing you like this but wanted to stay calm for you.

You nodded and he helped you off the floor and walked you to the bathroom. He helped you undress and then did so himself. Then you stepped into the shower together.

Gently, he cleaned the blood from your face and then put some shampoo in your hair and then massaged it into your scalp. It felt nice. You felt the hurt, the bad feelings moving to the distant corner in your brain as he rinsed the shampoo from your hair. He then handed you a sponge so you could wash your body as well while he cleaned himself up too.

When he had his head thrown back, rinsing his hair. You wrapped your arms around his torso and just hugged him. He was surprised at first but let you hold him nevertheless. When he was done with washing his hair, he hugged you back, his lips against your forehead.

Everything about it was very intimate but not in a sexual way but more of a spiritual way. Like you were connected on a different level. Like you were one.

“Wait here.” He let go of you and left the shower. Coming back a few minutes later, sweatpants on, he asked you to leave the shower as well. You stepped out and he handed you his clothes to put on, a t-shirt and some comfy shorts.

“Do you want something to eat?”

You shook your head in denial. “Can we maybe just watch a movie or something?”

He smiled softly. “Sure.”

So you cuddled up on the couch under various blankets and put on some movie you weren’t actually paying attention to. You tried but the thoughts in your head were moving 100 miles per hour which made it hard to focus on anything.

“I want you to move in with me.”

That tore you out of the storm that was going on in your head. “What?”

“Move in with me. Like right now. We can go pick up your stuff when your dad’s not there.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, baby. I don’t want you living there with him. I want you to be here with me where you can feel free and safe. I want us to be able to sleep at night with one less worry. Will you? Move in with me?”

“Yes.”

You both smiled widely as the thought settled in. You were going to live together. Away from the shithead that was your dad. Away from the house that you didn’t have any good memories in. It made you happy. And the fact that you got to be next to Rafe every day and night made you finally see some hope for you. It was going to get better. Finally.

join my obx taglist!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #rafe x you #obx #outer banks s2 #obx 2 #tw #tw abuse mention

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rotisseries · 1 year

Note

I also want to talk about the implications of the hateno house

THANK YOU LETS TALK ABOUT SOMETHING DIFFERENT FROM WHAT THE REST OF MY BLOG LOOKS LIKE RIGHT NOW

ok so i just info dumped all this to a mutual earlier but LET'S REVIEW THE FACTS. SO.

zelda is living in link's house from botw. and while the sidequest was optional it was supposed to get torn down if you didn't buy it. so we can ASSUME that in totk canon link bought the house!!! so it was his house!! and we COULD assume that she just kicked link out, but that doesn't sound like her!!! and HERE'S WHY THEY'RE ACTUALLY SHARING THAT DUMB LITTLE TWIN BED EVERY NIGHT

a. zelda's journal mentions that link accompanies her everywhere. he's always sticking by her side, which fits him perfectly as her destiny appointed knight and also her friend and also more once i get my hands on the zelda dev team. AT THE VERY LEAST he would definitely live near her. but there are no other places link could possibly be living in this town. i haven't made it through the entire game yet so i can't say for sure that there's nowhere in the entire game that he could be living but my money is on fucking no. also every single time you talk to an npc they're like "hey link :D! where's zelda?" pretty much confirmation that you never see one without the other. they are a UNIT

b. zelda's diary mentions that she had a builder add on a secret room for privacy. WHY WOULD SHE NEED A SECRET ROOM FOR PRIVACY IF IT'S HER HOUSE AND SHE'S THE ONLY ONE LIVING THERE??????? also in her study there's link's hair tie. why is his hair tie in her house?🤨 (also conjures thoughts of her doing his hair <3333) ALSO in her study she has ANOTHER journal where she mentions that the fact that link sticking with her so much has manifested in wear and tear on his clothes, so she secretly had a new and improved shirt made for him and she hid it at hyrule castle. 1. gift for him!!! 2. she set up a scavenger hunt for him!!! 3. why can't she hide it at her own house????? hmmm??? HMMMM???????🤨🤨🤨 IT'S BECAUSE HE LIVES THERE I KNOW IT

c. the house has lot's of the same decorations from when it was link's, the flower on the nightstand, the furniture is the same, THE DINING TABLE IS SET FOR TWO, and link's picture from the dlc is still there (if you play the game with a profile that has a botw save on your switch, which i can't personally confirm because i'm playing totk on my new switch and my profile doesn't have a botw save on it because i played botw on the family switch) but anyway, link's decor. AND. THE MOST DAMNING PIECE OF EVIDENCE. YOU. THE PLAYER. AS IN LINK. CAN STILL SLEEP IN THAT TWIN BED. IN THIS GAME, YOU CANNOT SLEEP IN ANY NPC BEDS. IF THAT WAS TRULY JUST ZELDA'S (AN NPC) BED THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SLEEP IN IT. I REST MY CASE. ZELINK CANON BUT THEY WON'T CONFIRM IT. MR. ANOUMA COME OUTSIDE I JUST WANT TO TALK

#THEY'RE DRIVING ME UP A FUCKING WALL NINTENDO I KNOW THEY LIVE TOGETHER #IT'S INSANE. I'M GETTING QUEERBAITED WITH “STRAIGHT” PEOPLE #ask #sunset-peril #loz #totk #zelink

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ketherite · 2 months

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Hello! First post on hit site Tumblr!! I offer you an extremely rushed Cypher x Reader! I'm so sorry if he's a bit OOC here. Do note that I originally made this with an OC in mind! Comments will be greatly appreciated. Enjoy :)

(C/N) - Code Name

(Y/N) - Your Name

(C/N) looked at the man right across from them, a mug of tea in hand. His eyes, never peeling away from them— at least that’s what they thought. They couldn’t read much from Cypher’s face because of his pesky little mask covering every identifiable inch of him. The blue lenses only provided them small insight with how frequent his shutters— or eyelids blink. Despite that, they still feel his eyes on them, as if they have his undivided attention.

“So, Cypher, what did you call me here for?” (C/N) asks as they look down into their mug, gently swirling it around to gather the loose leaves in the middle while awaiting his answer.

“What? Is it not normal to want to have a cup of tea with a friend?” He teased as he giggled, holding up his white mug of tea to them. He then lifted his mask up ever-so-slightly to take a sip of his still-hot tea, making (C/N) turn away for the sake of courtesy.

“You gotta warn me before you do that. I don’t wanna accidentally see your face, Amir.” Their voice had a hint of annoyance in it. Cypher was a man of mystery— the man kept his entire identity; from appearance to past a secret for Christ sake! Despite that, it seemed like he had no issue with (C/N) seeing a bit of his face, but he hasn’t told them that yet, which prompts silly situations like this.

“I know, dear. But it’s alright, I know you aren’t telling anyone about what you saw.” He pulled his mask down to hide his smirk. “You and I aren’t so different. We practically think the same! Minus the hidden identity, of course.”

(C/N) sighs at his antics and rolls their eyes. “I suppose we are.”

A moment of silence falls between the two. It doesn’t feel awkward, but it feels like something’s hung up in the air. Like a question that needs an answer.

“(Y/N), there is something I need to tell you.” The once goofy air suddenly turned serious. It wasn’t everyday people called (C/N) by their real name instead of their code name. Whenever their real name is used, they know the topic is gonna be something rather important. They tilted their head to the side, as if questioning the sudden shift in tone.

Silence once again, but this time Cypher’s nervously fidgeting with his mug, looking down into its contents. A sigh escapes him as he looks back up to meet their gaze. Oh their gaze; so piercing. It was as if they were staring into the deepest depths of his soul, digging through the dark matter that lies within to see even a glimpse of his thoughts.

“I thought about it for a while. My past, Nora— everything really. It’s all been so dark, so dreary ever since it all crumbled for me. But you— when you joined, it felt like a breath of fresh air. Everyday, I look forward to seeing you. Our little hangouts have been the highlight of my days recently. Whenever you’re around, I feel like a sailor lost in the raging sea finally seeing the light from the lighthouse. A beacon of hope, if you will—” He cuts himself off with a cough, slightly tilting his hat to hide his embarrassment.

“I may be too old for this word, but I think I might have a crush on you.” He visibly cringes at the word. “Truth be told, I haven’t felt this way since I first met Nora. It’s strange to feel that flutter in my chest once again. Just thought I had to get my feelings out there. Didn’t want them brewing in me for too long.”

Cypher now refused to look at them, opting to look to the side and focus on any piece of furniture or clutter instead of them. (C/N), on the other hand, only gave him a sigh before standing up. ‘Maybe it was a bad idea…’ He thought, thinking they were just gonna leave him with no response— a rejection.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice that (C/N) was now standing at his side, opposite from where he was looking. One could imagine the surprise he felt when they grabbed his chin to face them, raised his mask just right above his nose, and kissed him.

They kissed him.

…

They kissed him.

It lasted only a second, but to him it felt like eternity. A kiss he so desperately wanted for so long, finally given to him. They only tasted faintly of cardamom and honey, but it tasted like sweet, sweet nectar to him; sweet, addictive, and intoxicating.

They pulled his mask back down and scoffed. “Despite being a genius, you’re a stupid man, Amir. I already knew from the get-go. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“So, was that a yes?” He said as he looked up at them. If he wasn’t wearing the mask, (C/N) swore he’d have some puppy-eyed look on his face right now.

They crossed their arms over their chest and stuck their tongue out at him, a rare display of immaturity from them. It was cute. “I don’t know, was it?”

Cypher chuckled at their sarcasm. He then stood up and pulled up his mask halfway to give them a kiss, one they gladly returned.

“Eww, gross! can you guys get a room? I’m about to cook lunch here and you guys are literally making out.” A voice from behind the two interrupted them. It was Jett, and it seemed like she had brought Phoenix and Neon with her. Cypher immediately broke the kiss to quickly pull his mask over followed by (C/N) hiding their blushing face from the group.

Knowing the group, they’ll probably never hear the end of it. They’ll most likely spread it around the Protocol, but for the first time, it didn’t even matter to Cypher. He’s just happy they feel the same, happy that he finally has what he’s wanted for so long.

#valorant cypher #cypher #cypher valorant #cypher x reader #valorant x reader #fluff #the brainrot is real #valorant #I think I love cypher #but fun fact #I love harbor more #I am foreshadowing

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

Note

Imagine giving General Kiba a handjob during an important meeting- 👀👀

18+ fem!reader / cw: mentions of alcohol and risk of getting caught. royalty AU. there's tension between kiba and shino in this one!!

series masterlist

mead tastes better than you thought it would.

absent-mindedly staring at the dancing flames of the fireplace that's situated right across the great table you currently sit at, you consume the honeyed drink from your glass in small sips.

fine ladies such as yourself usually don't drink alcohol in order to obtain their graceful poise and elegant speech, you know this, however ever since your father had married - sold - you off to a war general instead of a duke, or at least a nobleman who'd know how to dance and use his utensils properly, you've since abandoned that particular idea.

so you sit there; in your 'i carry my own knife strapped to my belt like some heathen, instead of using normal silverware' husband's study. the study, which he lets you in only as of late, and which you've just realized looks absolutely divine, even if its visual does come off a tad bit blurry around the edges of your sight whenever you blink.

readjusting in your chair, you drag your gaze from one end to the other. the walls are decorated with tasteful art which he definitely did not pick or hang. the furniture, made out of wood that you suspect is surely walnut, pleasantly compliments the suave style of the entire space. incense burns in one corner, smelling prominently of sandalwood. it fills your lungs with warm hints of amber and worn leather.

it's all very male, the atmosphere, and as the minutes pass, the heaviness of it turns you somewhat dozy. truth be told, you could fall asleep right then and there, with your cheek laying flat against the table, dreams riddling your thoughts in no time. especially when you'd have thickly sweet mead warming your veins throughout the entire night, and you'd already managed to slip off your shoes just a moment prior.

wiggling your toes deeper into the carpet, you let out an appreciative sigh at how the rich material brushing against your bare soles feels astoundingly more intense than usual. being tipsy is great, you discover, and the carpet is thick and in the colour of a deep maroon red; its purpose only meant to add further to the already overly-sophisticated ambience of the room that doesn't suit the wildish personality of the general at all. you suppose that it's because he hasn't been using the study for long enough yet, but who knows?

still, you don't pay much mind to the thought as the feverish shade plays with your drunken brain the moment you dip your chin down to inspect it more closely. toes tightly curling, it's like your feet are touching molten steel from how warm and soft they've suddenly gotten, and it doesn't take you long to realize that you have no way of cooling them down.

the heat sits not on your skin; it instead brings your blood to a simmer.

your husband doesn't address the weight of your foot when you rest it on top of his boot underneath the table. with his nose nearly buried in copious stacks of maps and documents all representing your thriving nation that's ruled by the iron fist of your father, kiba has been ignoring you completely for the last three hours or so in order to strategize and prepare for his next campaign.

the war is over, he's won it - that is why you're here, after all - and yet he still works and plans ahead of time to foresee the next challenge that could possibly be thrown his way. it's a trait you catch yourself feeling slightly surprised by, perhaps even fond over; one that you wouldn't necessarily appoint to a careless brute like him.

he's all different kinds of clever than what you're normally used to, you realize. when he focuses, it's rather on anticipating attacks and finding ways to efficiently counter their assisting blows, than on poetry and music and the arts and just plain literature.

you've never seen him read a book, even if there are plenty in the library downstairs and inside this study alone. much less encountered him drawing something other than charts to place his platoons and battalions of soldiers on, and the childish-looking rabbits he sometimes scribbles for you to make you smile. philosophy is almost surely a foreign term to him, all he cares about is the bite of the fight.

so perhaps that, along with all the scheming and planning he does with his stoic advisor now, proves to be the reason as to why he hadn't fussed at all and had merely brushed you off with a quick wave of his hand when you'd whispered to him that you intend to pour yourself a drink. and a second. and later, a third.

either that, or he's slowly getting used to you actually having a mind of your own, and is letting you do whatever you please with it just so that you'd let him do his job in return.

but alas, your mind is bored. terribly so.

and standing next to your chair, with his arms spread out firmly on the table and his broad shoulders slumped, he looks mighty appealing as well.

applying further pressure to his boot, you watch as the bridge of his nose scrunches slightly at the contact. he doesn't say or do anything besides knitting his brows together, but by the time you repeat the action for a second time, way more persistently at that, he finally lifts his gaze from the group of small figurines he's been obsessively rearranging all across the map, and turns to look at you instead.

the moment your husband's attention moves onto you, his military advisor clamps his mouth shut; finally ceasing his seemingly-endless assessment of the area they've chosen to put the phantom-soldiers on, and that you've been forced to listen to for the last aeon or so.

well, not exactly forced, per se. you're in here by your own decision; because you've nagged kiba about wanting to see what his line of work looks like.

so whilst you're still trying to get used to the sudden silence to fall upon the room, you give a fleeting glance to the soldier that stands across from you, now. he's tall, fair-skinned and lean. handsome but guarded, as far as you can tell, since he doesn't even look at you, much less acknowledges your presence despite that you're of noble blood.

privilege doesn't seem to matter to military men. to him, you're just another woman amongst many. a mere breeding mare, as disgusting as that sounds.

your husband used to be just like that.

"yes, princess?" the man in question asks, putting your train of thought to an abrupt halt. when you whip your head to the side so that you can look up at him, you're able to tell that he's tired almost straight away. you can hear it in the prominent drawl of his voice and see it in his eyes. he's fed-up even if he loves to work, and it makes your brow furrow with concern.

"i-i... uhm," your tongue stumbles and you fall silent for a moment as heat steadily begins to creep up your neck. if it's because of the alcohol or the sudden racing that the sugary pet name invokes in your heart, you do not know. still, you swallow hard and calm your pulse down just enough to say, "i'm sorry, i just wanted to suggest if we'd call it a night...? you seem tired and it's getting quite late anyway, and-"

your voice fades into nothing for a second time around when he chooses to move. he's slow but everlastingly robust as he sighs and plops down onto the chair that's right on your left. his body slumps against the finely-carved details in the backrest and you try to pretend that you don't notice the visible cord that pushes against his neck when he moves to stretch it from side to side. try to play ignorant at how he spreads his legs underneath the edge of the table and sits as if he comandeers the entire room.

it's probably because he does.

he rubs at his eye now, all sleepy and laggard, and uses the other one to look at you. "let me just figure out if the terrain we chose is passable, and then i promise you that we'll head straight to bed." he blinks, then. fights back a yawn because he hasn't been sleeping well for nearly a week straight. "does that sound all right?"

a blush sears your face at his words, its warmth making your cheeks feel like they're tingling as you turn away and indulge in your sudden bashfulness. he might be a smooth talker or maybe you're just drunk, but goddammit; the fact that he's actually willing to put in the effort to settle on an agreement almost regularly now, lights your entire body on fire.

you're changing him for the better day by day and your lips keep tugging upward at the corners because of it, especially when you say, "yes, that's fine by me."

"good," he mumbles, taking note of the beam before he turns his attention back towards his aloof-looking subordinate. "now, where were we, shino?"

shino, as you've just learned is the advisor's name, quirks a dark, inquisitive brow at the exchange he's just witnessed. the man before you doesn't remember his general ever acting this considerate around anyone, much less a woman.

it makes his eyes dance between you as he clears his throat. "if i may suggest," his gaze goes back and forth again, "that if the lady wishes to retire for the evening, she should be free to do so? we've still got a lot of material to go through, and disturbances like these aren't of any help when it comes to making a decision, i'm sure."

disturbances.

your heart drops right down to the pit of your stomach. the fact that the word affects you is hard to hide; embarrassment makes your face burn once more, because now you've got your husband's thigh firmly pressing against the side of yours underneath the table. his knee bounces in a quick rhythm that doesn't help calming you down, but one bump to your leg reminds you to keep your spine ramrod straight and your chin held high.

when you look at him from the corner of your eye, there's a small smile playing on his lips. and yet, his voice sounds like it's being grit out through clenched teeth as he says, "i don't know what kind of wife you've got back at home, but mine sure isn't a disturbance; as you've so kindly put it."

"i understand that, sir," shino says, his voice remaining perfectly flat, "but she-"

"the lady suggested that we should perhaps put a halt on this thing, because she can tell that i'm fed up and fucking tired," the other man cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his scarred fingers. "and as far as i can tell, that's not a disturbance; it's rather affection coming from a caring spouse. besides, she has a point. what fruitful decision had ever been made by an exhausted general?"

the advisor's eyes narrow as your own shoot wide open. your heart insists on fluttering back up towards its rightful place, even as shino says, "i don't seem to recall you ever being this careful during the planning of a campaign before... usually you're more than eager to run headfirst into battle and i have to be the one stopping you."

"well, i've got more important things to consider and worry about now. much larger things are at stake," the general replies, brushing him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "now, go fetch me that book you were talking about earlier; i think i saw it in the bookcase over there by the window. after we skim it, we can call it a night so that we're all happy."

he makes it sound like an order, not a request. and sure enough, his advisor is still a soldier, so he quietly obeys as he pushes away from the table and turns his back towards you both whilst heading towards the bookcase at the other side of the room. you don't miss the subtle albeit frustrated tick in his jaw as he does so. it makes you muse.

meanwhile, kiba uses the chance to press a hasty kiss to your still-warm cheek. the sudden affection nearly makes you audibly gasp, but you're fast to stifle it down even if the mead in your belly tells you not to.

instead, you place your hand on his thigh and don't dare look into his big brown eyes as you mutter a meek, "i'm sorry."

"eh? what on earth are you sorry for, princess? you were just looking out for me, were you not?" he rasps, his voice no longer sharp, but playful. "besides, shino should be the one apologizing for acting like a stuck-up cunt towards my goddamn wife."

"oh, you can't just-" a small giggle bubbles up your throat at his blatant cursing. you're quick to cover your mouth with your other palm, but a fraction of it still manages to slip out. he can't deny it anymore; the sound jumpstarts kiba's very heart.

he doesn't tell you this, but he's growing more fond of you with each passing day. you bring sunshine and warmth into his existence by merely existing yourself. slowly figuring out a functioning dynamic that works well between you, sharing a bed and sometimes a bath, having someone to talk to late at night, receiving little signs of affection; it all makes him feel like life is worth living. like he's worth living for.

so it's no wonder why his hand cups your chin and he whispers, "so... could i perhaps get a little kiss? as a reward for being such a good husband?"

you're clearly flustered, because now you're looking at him from underneath your lashes as you mumble, "now?"

"mhmm," he purrs, draping his free arm over the backrest of your chair. "right now."

"but what if your advisor-"

"you know that book i mentioned earlier?" he interrupts, leaning in even closer. he smells like a forest; deep and rich, earthy. it titillates your senses.

"mm," is all you offer in answer. god, you're so drunk that the heat between your legs is pulsating in his presence. it's becoming almost unbearable, you feel like a whore despite that he's your husband.

he glances towards the other man in the room, whose back is still turned towards you as he keeps searching the bookshelves. "...well, i might have forgotten to mention that it's up in my bedroom because i'd been reading it just last night."

you blink, clearly surprised. "you read?"

"only when i have to." he glances across the room again before he licks his lips and says, "but the point i'm trying to make is that he's gonna be searching for it for a long while, so i think it's safe to say that a kiss would go entirely unnoticed."

you sigh at this, but succumb rather quickly. it might be because of the alcohol that's still coursing your system or because of his coaxing and urging, but by the time your lips press against his own softly, aiming for a simple peck, he's quick to immediately turn it into something deeper.

he just likes you so much. and can you blame him that he wants a little bit of loving from the person he admires, after the tough, absolutely draining week he's had? he's just so needy.

and he's also a messy kisser. your whimper is silenced when he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and licks your teeth with the swift arrogance of an assured male. he angles your head by pressing his thumb underneath your chin and sucks on your bottom lip until it starts to feel awfully tender and bruised. you can feel the slight grazing of his unnaturally sharp incisor every once in a while as he continues to taste you. it's enough to drive a woman completely mad.

especially because you can feel him hardening just underneath your palm, now. it seems that your treacherous hand had decided to act upon its own selfish desires whilst you were too busy handling his tongue in your mouth, and had inched higher up his leg until it'd finally settled on the now-prominent bulge that resides in his pants.

by the time you pull apart for air, his cock is already pushing against the buttons and there's a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. his cheeks are flushed, brown eyes glazed as he releases his hold on your chin and swipes his thumb across your lip to get rid of the spit there.

"we shouldn't-" you start, but he silences you by wedging his thumb between your plush lips and pushing it into your mouth, right to the knuckle. you can see his pupils dilate when your first instinct is to suck on it.

"fuck, you've got such a good-lookin' mouth; but i can't... just..." he mumbles somewhat dazedly now, his voice hoarse in that appealing way that tells you he's horny out of his fucking mind, and so quick, too. he inhales a sharp breath, shaking his head as if he's trying to gather his thoughts before he focuses on you again and rasps, "just stroke it. over my pants."

when you give his advisor a sidelong glance, you're relieved to find out that he's still stubbornly searching for the book in hopes of not disappointing his superior. but unfortunately for you, your husband isn't pleased with you directing your attention on another man at a crucial time like this.

"hey... look at me, princess," he taps his fingers against your cheekbone and presses his thumb onto the flat of your tongue, making you wince in surprise when your throat tightens in answer. "i need you to stroke my cock, all right?"

all you do is grunt in response. the sound comes out muffled.

"it'll just look like we're whispering to each other. you know, as a married couple does from time to time," he inches closer, his way of speaking urgent. "i promise he won't notice a thing."

he's gotten so desperate now that he's even wrapped his hand around your own and started moving it up and down his length. when your grip tightens around his clothed cock, you watch in awe as he bites his lip to suppress a groan.

his arm is still resting on your chair's backrest when he pushes forward again and nearly covers your body from sight with his own. hunching his back, he tries to hide the way his ribcage expands whenever he sucks in breaths that grow deeper by the second. you can feel the film of sweat on his forehead when he rests it against your own.

"sir? i can't seem to find the book," shino starts. your heart nearly gives out at the sound of his voice, it's like lightning flashes throughout your every cell.

"keep lookin', i'm sure it's in there somewhere," kiba bites out immediately. all polite talk has ceased to exist.

"but-"

"that's an order, soldier."

you push his thumb out of your mouth with the help of your tongue to chide, "that doesn't seem really convincing! if he turns around, it'll-"

"look like we're gossiping," kiba persists. you nearly squeak when his fingers dig into your gown and rest on your thigh. "like a married couple; just like i've said."

"h-hey-"

"just keep going," he hisses. his eyes are so dark that it makes you fear they'll swallow you whole, and as if he can sense your growing anxiety, he forces his gaze to soften a bit before he adds, "please. you're doing such a good job and i really want this."

you're scared of getting caught because you're supposed to be representing the image of innocence, but truth be told; you're also impeccably thrilled at the same time. he feels big in your hand; fat and heavy and warm between your fingers even over the layer of fabric. every time you squeeze him over his pants, he twitches and bucks his hips right into your touch just to gain more friction.

"fuck yes, princess." every breath is ragged. "that's it... gonna make me cum so fast."

"shh! keep quiet."

it's kind of sweet, how evidently he needs you. but it's also lewd.

the things this man's libido makes him do is unbelievable. it's only been a couple of days since he's last made love to you, and here he is; with his sanity nearly crumbling down to its pillars whilst teaching you how to give him a not at all subtle, under-the-table handjob even if there's an audience nearby. you can't believe he's willing to risk his rank or fall subject to despicable rumours for just a mere touch of your hand.

either he's absolutely delirious, or he's a fool in love. but nevertheless, by the time shino at long last admits defeat and confesses he's unable to find the book; he's also sated.

and as for you; well, let's just say it's hard not to laugh at the knowledge that your husband's pants are sticky with cum when you excuse yourself from the table and he's stuck in the study, rearranging his little toy soldiers.

#this turned out way more detailed than i anticipated but oh well jdjdjdjdj #i love him ur honour #kiba smut #kiba x reader #naruto smut #biscuit's royalty au #biscuit drabbles

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ghosthunterbuck · 2 years

Text

sofa, so good

(buddie) (1k words) (6x01 spoilers) of course I can't resist a coda for the first ep of the season who do you think I am

Buck lasts five minutes in the damn armchair before he’s up and pacing again.

Because it’s stupid right? He gets it. It’s a metaphor. Whoop-de-doo. But it’s also an actual literal fucking couch, and he’s been without one for months now.

Which is – yeah, Chris was right, it’s weird.

But also, he’s kind of barely noticed. It’s not like he spends much time at his place. He’s at the firehouse, or Eddie’s, or Maddie’s, and they’ve all got couches. So maybe he doesn’t even really need one.

Maybe he should just get more chairs. Or a chaise. Beanbag chairs! Chris would probably get a kick out of those. Hell, maybe he could find some of that inflatable furniture he begged his parents for in the nineties.

Buck stares at the armchair.

He really needs a fucking couch.

Eddie shows up at 9 AM on Saturday, and Buck tries to convince himself this isn’t a bad idea. Not Eddie showing up – as far as Buck’s concerned, any idea involving Eddie is an automatic plus five on the good idea scale. No, the issue is the couch/girlfriend/getting-his-shit-together metaphor has sunk its claws in deep, and now Buck’s pretty sure he’s going to take one step into the furniture store and spin around and walk back out.

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Buck isn’t even sure he wants a couch. He says as much to Eddie.

“Then why am I driving you to the furniture store?” Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not—it’s what the couch represents, man,” Buck says.

“Mm.”

“Don’t look at me like that!”

Eddie holds his hands up. “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he placates, although the grin tugging at the corners of his lips begs to differ.

Buck can’t help but laugh. “Come on, aren’t you supposed to tell me to, I don’t know, suck it up and get a new couch?”

Eddie smiles, ducks his head, and looks up at Buck. “Is that what you want?”

“Therapy made you way too smart, Diaz.”

That makes Eddie laugh, and that in turn makes Buck feel warm. It wasn’t so long ago that it felt like he might never hear that sound again.

“Get in the damn truck, Buckley,” Eddie snorts. “We’re getting you a couch.”

...

Buck’s never been to a furniture store.

It’s absurd, actually, because he’s a thirty-something-year-old man, but he’s never had cause to. Like, Ali furnished most of the loft, and every piece of furniture he owned before he got off Craigslist or Facebook Marketplace.

It’s absurd, and it means that he’s entirely unprepared when Candace, the Senior Sales Associate with a shark-like grin and sensible shoes, clocks them both as soon as they’re through the door.

“How can I help you today?” She asks. “What are you looking for? May I take you around our showroom? We’ve got several new pieces in that I’m sure you’ll love.”

“I—uh,” Buck stammers.

“We’ve also got an extensive sale inventory I can walk you through, if you’re looking to score a bargain! The same excellent quality we’re known for, with prices we’re sure will fit any budget.”

Yep, Buck’s going to leave. He’s going to turn around and leave, and he’s never going to get a new couch, because this place is huge and anxiety inducing and he’s pretty sure he saw Candace on a true crime documentary once and—

Eddie takes a smooth step forward. He matches Candace’s overly wide smile with one of his own and tells her, “No thank you, we’re just browsing for now. We’ll come find you if we have any questions.”

It’s like he knows the magic words, because no sooner than he’s said them, Candace disappears into the mattress section.

Buck turns to him, wide-eyed. “How did you do that?”

Eddie laughs. “You’ve just got to speak the language, Buckley.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Buck mumbles.

Eddie claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s find you a couch.”

...

In the end, after Buck’s sat on so many different pieces of furniture his butt is sore, they find one. It’s a dark buttery leather that Eddie says will complement his hardwood floors, and that Buck is pretty sure he could fall asleep on, if necessary.

Eddie, somehow, manages to knock twenty percent off the asking with a flash of his teeth and a slow blink at Candace, which Buck mostly appreciates but is also kind of afraid of. He also insists that they throw in a couple of accent pillows, which Buck supposes is probably nice.

With the help of a few associates, they load the couch into Eddie’s truck and strap it down with more bungee cords than Buck thought any one person had the right to own.

Eddie catches his raised eyebrow and grins. “You remember that accident on the one-oh-one?” he asks.

The image of a four-poster bed sticking out of the windshield of a Corolla flashes across Buck’s mind, and he shudders. “Good call,” he says with a tight nod.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, then motions to the truck. “Come on, I have to pick Chris up at three. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Buck deposits himself in the passenger seat and watches as Eddie starts up the truck and puts it in gear.

Eddie looks up and catches his eye. “What?”

Buck shakes his head. “Nothing, just—thanks. I’m pretty sure Candace would’ve eaten me alive if it weren’t for you.”

“Women and couches,” Eddie says with a shrug, “maybe they’re just not for you.”

Buck snorts. “Who needs ‘em,” he says. “That’s what I’ve got you for, right?”

Eddie’s thumb brushes against his forearm. “Yeah,” he says.

...

Buck sits on his new couch.

It’s soft, and comfortable, and the color complements the room’s existing palette, just like Eddie said it would. It’s long enough that Buck can lay down, and deep enough that he won’t accidentally roll off if he falls asleep. It’s exactly what he needs in a couch.

He lasts all of five minutes before he’s up and pacing again.

The color is too dark. Leather is the wrong material. All three of the couch cushions are plump and firm, without a single weird divot from being slept on too many nights in a row.

The couch fits perfectly in his apartment, Buck thinks, and at the end of the day, maybe that’s the problem.

Buck doesn’t want a new couch.

He wants one that’s familiar.

He texts Eddie.

Dinner at yours tonight?

#thank you ceecee for the title you're incredible at puns and I'm obsessed with you for it #911 #911 spoilers #911fic #buddiefic #buddie #uhhhh I straight up can't remember the tags I usually use #Abbie writes #buddie fic #Evan buckley #yeah I wrote a couch coda who's gonna stop me #I'll go find my tag list in a minute!#911 fic

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elcpsstuff · 9 months

Text

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 20)

even when I don’t, I almost do. Because I love you.

—

A/N: You guys i’m actually sobbing while writing this! The last part is here and i’m honestly feeling so many emotions right now. From the first chapter to now seeing how every character as grown just makes my heart absolutely melt ahh. This is the last part but when season 3 comes out who knows, there might be a sequel;) (no promises) !! I love you all sooo much and please enjoy this really long chapter <3

—

There’s not many ways to categorize Susannah. She’s not just a mother figure to me. She’s the beach house on sunny days and all weather accompanied and when I do a lot of things I think about her.

I’ll never forget the day my parents died. I might have been young but it’s one of the first things I remember. John and Laurel running to the house with Steven and Belly in the car, and a confused 6 year old waiting for her parents to get home. Come home to me.

Apparently, therapy sessions are the way to fix someone who was categorized as broken like me. I got taken to countless different therapists but what was I supposed to say? Like ‘yeah i’m pretty sad about my parents dying but i’ll get over it.’

The first summer that went by without my parents, I went to the beach house. I had gone two times before that but this time was truly my first visit. To me it was.

I don’t remember much, but I do remember Susannah. According to her (and laurel) I cried for hours in my room, assuming it was about my parents. Everybody left me alone until my whales became too loud and Susannah couldn’t help but step in.

She walked into my room, not forgetting to shut the door and sat on the edge of my bed. “Yn? Sweetie?”

“Y- yeah?” I covered my tears in hopes that I would just look groggy from a nap but I obviously failed, miserably.

“What’s going on?” She cooed at me while brushing some strands of hair out my face.

“I miss them.. my.. my—”

“I know you do. I’m sorry it had to be this way yn..” I still remembered her voice to this day, in that room. It was so soothing sometimes I requested her to come in and talk to me before bed.

“Can I tell you something yn?”

I nodded weakly, “mhm..”

She held me in her arms while whispering a soft melody in my ear before saying; “This beach house is as much yours as mine. Okay? Your here and apart of us now. Of me.”

I smiled at the thought before falling deep asleep.

I was always close with Susannah after that, as much as I could be. Sometimes summer wasn’t enough.

Now, i’m sobbing all my makeup off into the sheets Susannah picked out for this house. Conrad really was right when he said it— she’s everywhere and everything in this house. Picked out ever wall color and every single piece of furniture.

I used to love to look at the things Susannah did for this house, it reminded me of her. Now- I can’t even look at the walls without crying. Because soon she’ll only be a memory.

Belly’s cries in my ear were more heartbreaking than I could have imagined. Me, Belly, and Laurel were all stuck together on the bed like peas in a pod. Laurel crying was something I never thought I would see and now I wished I hadn’t.

“I just feel so stupid. This whole summer has been about me and Susannah had been dying of cancer.”

I almost wanted to tell Belly not to, not to say it. She had no right. But she did, because she really really was dying. That was the reality of the matter. I can only imagine Jeremiah and Conrad if we’re crying this bad. It breaks my heart.

“That’s how she wanted it though,” Laurel whispers, “One last perfect summer in cousins.”

One last perfect summer. Was this the end? It hit me then, maybe it was the end. Conrad would be going off to college in the fall and me, Jeremiah, and Steven were all going into our senior years. Even Belly was growing. She wasn’t far off from college either.

“It’s just not fair,” I add in, sobbing through my words. “Why does she have to go? It’s.. it’s..”. Horrible. Not fair. So many things that I want to say but my choked cries hold me back.

The door creaks open and a very sad looking Steven creeps into the room. His eyes are draped and tears stained his face. Shakily, he said, “She’s not gonna get better is she?”

When Laurel shakes her had no, my cries come faster as well as Belly’s. Steven runs to the other side of the bed and climbs in next to Laurel, tears dripping on her red dress. He was like a little kid, the way he got into bed and held onto Laurel for dear life, like every child held their mother.

It was just us 3, crying and crying and repeated murmurs of ‘it’s not fair’ and an occasional I love you.

—

Laurel cooking only meant one thing, we were fucked.

It’s no secret Susannah’s cooking has always been a fan favorite of ours, and not Laurel’s.

We all gathered around the table and for the first time this summer we felt like family. True and honest family. Me and Belly had changed from our dresses because Susannah didn’t want us to be uncomfortable, but the boys were still in their tuxes.

Everyone’s eyes were littered with dry tears and everybody was also blood shot red in the eyes. I’d never seen Conrad look so tired and broken, it almost makes me feel horrible for crying so hard.

He still looked good though, really good.

“Okay, guys.” Susannah clears her throat before gently pushing out of her seat, getting our attention.

“I.. I think,” Susannah’s eyes wonder to Jeremiah and Conrad before she speaks. Her face is glowing with a smile only Susannah has. It’s for her boys. Conrad and Jeremiah.

Jeremiah was her sunshine boy, the kind’ve boy that still hugged their mother even though they were probably too old for it. He was good to her. Not that Conrad wasn’t, not at all. It was just different. Conrad affection was deep and hidden but Susannah could pull it out of him. He would do anything for her, absolutely anything even if he hated it.

“I think i’m gonna do the trial.” Conrad and Jeremiah’s face lit up in smiles that I had missed dearly and mine wasn’t too far behind. It might have been a long shot, but it was hope. Hope that things could be okay. It’s no secret things would never be the same again, but if we could be okay, that was good enough for me. For all of us.

“It’s gonna work, mom.” Jeremiah says with pleading eyes and my heart can’t help but melt at the sight. He always had so much hope that things would work out, and as much as I wanted to believe him, I knew it all to well. I didn’t wanna think about it, though. Because loosing Susannah would be like loosing my parents all over again, but worse. I know Susannah, more than I ever knew them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Susannah grabs Laurel’s hand and squeezes it tight, “You all ate here. It’s the best thing I could ever ask for.”

And with that, we ate.

For the first time since the news came out, laughter filled this table. It filled our lungs and our hearts and I never missed Jeremiah and Stevens jokes. Conrad even threw one in occasionally.

This was good. We were gonna be okay.

Dinner came and went and it was late by the time we finished, but I was up like a hawk. At 11 o’click the house started winding down and yawns were heard.

I walked into the kitchen to grab my phone, only to see Jeremiah sitting at the counter. I knew I needed to talk to him. It was a long time coming.

“Hey..” I say quietly, but it was loud enough for him to hear me.

He smiles lightheartedly, “Hey.” I did not want to know if he was angry at me still because it would hurt too much. Jeremiah was amazing at holding grudges, which shouldn’t be a compliment but it sure does drive the other person crazy.

“So,” I tap my fingers across the counter in a state of worry, “Are.. we good?”

A sigh comes from his mouth, and I only can hope he’s not up to fight, because I sure as hell aren’t. “Did you know about Susannah’s cancer? Did Conrad tell you?” Those were the last words I expected to come out his mouth.

He was there, when I asked what was going on. How could he assume I knew? Was he that angry about me and Conrad that he would accuse me of hiding it?

“How could you even think that?” There’s no disgust in my voice, just pure sadness. He was bitter, bitter that he didn’t know. Don’t let him get to you.

“You and Conrad kept a lot of secrets, what’s one more?” Unlike me, his voice is laced with disgust and after the night I had tonight, I would be the last to deal with it.

“Right. Glad to know where you stand.” I spin on my heel but before I can reach the door a shriek comes out of Jeremiah’s mouth.

“I liked you, you know.”

I turn around and look at the boy in front of me with a puzzled face. He liked me? Are you serious?

Where was he when I wanted his attention? I remember the nights I would long for Jeremiah, when I believed Conrad didn’t want me. I might have longed for Jeremiah to try and forget about Conrad, but I still longed for him.

“Don’t do that. You like Belly.”

He shakes his head and my heart begins to accelerate.

“I know you used to like me too.” What was he saying? Assuming? This was crazy. Just fucking crazy and my brain can’t handle any more of this. “I know it was one summer. Conrad and you weren’t talking as much because he was busy with football camp. You got crazy jealous of me talking to Belly. I- I never believed I had a chance with you yn, so I never showed that I cared. But I did.”

It’s true. The summer Conrad was going into Sophomore year his dad had him on a constant grind for football. Make no mistake, I missed him like hell but I did gather some sort of feeling for Jeremiah during that time. It lingered, but as soon as Conrad came it was gone.

None of us were perfect. If Belly had some sort of attraction for both of the boys, would it be so crazy to believe I once did too? Not too long ago?

But it’s always been clear as day, who I loved. Love.

I always believed love would be gray with anyone else but Conrad. He made it golden. Shades of gray hidden in the sunset that would only come out for me, along with my feelings for him.

What was I supposed to say? He wasn’t wrong. I did like him a little bit, even at the beginning of this summer. But it was only because I hid my truth about Conrad. I needed to get away from him and shamefully, Jeremiah was right there.

“If I wouldn’t known- I would’ve maybe—”

“Jeremiah, stop.”

His eyes widen and this is the last thing I want. To cause this poor boy any more drama than what’s been produced. His face turns from hopeful and pleading to knowing. All fucking knowing.

“You love him, don’t you?”

My heart beat slows, and I look Jeremiah dead in the eye, making sure he knows the truth. I want him to know so we can get over this because I need Jeremiah, my buddy. Not a lover.

“I think I almost do.” Is all I can manage to say.

Jeremiah says nothing but only nods in response. It’s quiet for a moment before I begin to tread away, only to be stopped again.

“Just tell me this, if I would’ve confessed, would it had changed anything?”

No. It wouldn’t have.

“It’s been a long day, Jeremiah.” I don’t hear a response as I tread up the stairs.

—

My feet tread on the wooden floors, creaking noises coming every now and then. It was late. Half past 12 and like most nights lately, sleep couldn’t consume me like it used to be able to.

Luckily, I wasn’t alone.

Outside my door, I peered through another to see Susannah sat on her bed. She looked sad, so unlike Susannah. Something compelled me to walk in there.

Susannah was sitting on her bed staring up at the ceiling. It was almost weird— seeing her look so solemn. Like she had come to peace with it.

She smiled at me when I walked in and motioned for me to take the spot next to her on the bed. I did.

“Cant sleep?” She whispers.

I shake my head rapidly, because I can’t. I cant sleep knowing a women like Susannah is being put through this. She’s so pure, so pure in a world of evil.

“I don’t mean to bother you.”

“You could never bother me, special girl.” I already feel the tears coming on my face, and one stray tear dripped. I wiped it quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Susannah.” I sit next to her quickly. Her face turns sad and droopy which was the last thing I intended considering this day already didn’t go as planned. I needed to change the mood. “How.. how is Conrad? Is he okay?”

An all knowing smile reaches Susannah’s face, and I already know what’s coming next. “He’s doing okay. I hated him seeing him cry. I always do.”

That was the truth. I hated seeing Conrad cry too. It had only happened a couple of times, and It would always take me 15 minutes or so to recover from it. The way his eyes cried for help and were bloodshot red, almost like he was begging for someone to save him. I had wanted that for years. To save him and to be engulfed in his arms.

“I hate it too.” I whisper and a choked sob comes out of my mouth. Susannah, being Susannah notices right away. Always putting others above herself.

“He’s loved you since he was 10, you know.” Now it was her turn to speak through a yelp and cry. I broke at the sight. Tears were streaming down both of our faces but I was too delirious to care. “He came up to me, called you so pretty at a young age. You’ve always been his weakness, you know that.”

I shrug, “Things got really complicated Susannah, too quick and too fast.”

“Don’t let him push you away. He loves you. He’s in love with you.” Those words spilled all over me like a warm shower. Lathering me in love and affection, all by the man Conrad Fisher.

Susannah holds my arm, rubbing my thumb gently, “Do.. do you love him too?”

I don’t even wait, I just nod. Nod and nod until my head feels like it’s hurting because I do. I really do. He’s everything to me. It’s not often you find your lover and best friend in one.

He really is my everything. My Conrad.

“Yes.”

Susannah pulls me in and now i’m sobbing against her chest. Who cares if the house hears? This women is dying in front of me and i’ll i’ve done this whole summer is be consumed in my own drama. Belly was right, even if we didn’t know it we were selfish.

“I’m so sorry, I was so— selfish.”

I feel Susannah move her head against me. “No, no. This is how I wanted it. I wanted it to be about you girls. And the guys. I wanted all the petty fights and talk about boys because that’s what summer is to you guys. A time to just be.”

She was right. Summer was intertwined with everything good in my life. Conrad, Susannah, Jeremiah, and the rest of my family. From running on the beach at 7 and playing with the football and attempting to crash the boys plans with Belly at night. It was all so good. So right.

Susannah pulls me out of her chest and tucks a hair behind my ear, “Yn. I know this hasn’t always been easy. But your here now, okay? One day, when I’m gone—" I go to fight her but she shakes her head, silencing me. “When i’m gone, it’s up to you and Belly to keep the magic going. If anyone can, it’s you two.”

I hoped and prayed. I really did.

“Your my special girl, yn.”

We hugged for what felt like hours, crying and holding each other. Around 1am, I crept into bed, sobs occasionally catching my lips every now and then. My heavy eyes slowly found it’s way into some sort of sleep.

—

The tide was low in the morning.

I wouldn’t exactly call it sleep, what I got. More like an hour or so of being in this dream state. Where susannah was okay and wasn’t dying and that we would be coming to cousins like normal. Every summer.

He was there. In his suit still looking like a work of art. Straight out of a Taylor Swift love song (wildest dreams, to be exact. I would always rant to Frankie about how that’s his song.)

His hair was sloppy in the wind and his shirt was all wrinkled. That’s the thing about Conrad though. Even in the worst of times, he still looks beautiful. His blue irises don’t shine the same blue that Jeremiah’s does.

Conrad is dark. Dark dark dark and some more. Jeremiah’s blue ocean eyes hold some sense of purity to them. I could even get lost in them. They’re so bright with purpose. When I looked into Conrad’s eyes, the blue was different. So confusing and at times I feel like one day it’ll devour me.

He was a deep guy, Conrad. Something Jeremiah would never be, even if he tried his hardest to mold that personality of his. I could sit for hours and talk about the meaning of life with Conrad and he would sit and stare, maybe adding in his thoughts. Jeremiah would go on his phone within minutes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, that Jeremiah didn’t do that. He wasn’t Conrad, he shouldn’t have to be. But even If I tried to tell him that it would be too late, the complex already set so horribly in. No matter what anyone does it’ll be ingrained in him. I just hoped it wouldn’t consume him.

I plopped down next to him, digging my feet into the sand from how nervous I was. I didn’t know what he was gonna say to me.

There was a small gap between us, one that was definable but not to an extent. Conrad played with his fingers and for a moment it was just pure silence.

I liked the waves. They were calming.

“I can’t believe she said yes.” Conrad words are vibrant, more than they had been this entire summer. His face twisted into a smile and my heart melted at the sight.

I awkwardly look down towards the sand and make a little heart in it. “I mean- it’s all thanks to you. You changed her mind, Conrad.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, it was Jere. Not me.”

I gulp down the words that itch to come out of my throat, so many things I want to say. Where do I start? I’ve been in love with you since I was 10 years old. It’s only been you? Even when my heart tried to make me believe it was Jeremiah or possibly Josh, it was always you. How do I tell him that after everything?”

The silence became noticeable because he twisted his lips like he always does when he feels guilty or is out of words to say, to fill the void.

“I’m sorry for being so shitty, this entire summer.”

“I mean.. you were going through this all alone. I- it couldn’t have been easy..” I try and reason for him because I do feel horrible. It doesn’t excuse anything, but it makes it all just sorta make sense.

“Doesn’t make it right. Not for you, at least.”

His tone conveys something much more intimate than either of us are ready to take on right now. I get up off the sand, Conrad following my actions suit.

“Conrad… you- you really need someone right now and I just.. can’t be the person you fall on. Not after everything.” By everything, the love i’ve held for this boy. All the years and lies and the time we even had sex, it’s all too much. He’s either in or out, I can’t climb over and pull him half way. That’s on him.

“I need you.”

I shake my head again, “No. No more needing.” Want. I want him to want me. He reads my mind before tucking a strand behind my face.

“I want you. You know that.”

“How?” I whisper.

“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12. I- I don’t know when it happened, but one day it just came to me. I can’t shake it since. Maybe it was always there.”

Conrad fucking Fisher, pouring his heart out was not to go unnoticed. Rare were the times he showed emotion, and for anyone to take it to granted was crazy.

“And you think I haven’t?” My whisper is almost like a cry. Hadn’t it been so obvious? I loved this boy with every fiber in my body. My heart called to him. He was better than Noah from the notebook and better than Rhett. He was Conrad.

“I know you have. But I do too, I really do.”

Conrad’s fingers graze my cheek and I look up into his impossibly blue eyes. He flinches a little before moving in closer to me. My eyes linger to his lips and his does the same.

When our lips touch, I could’ve cried from the feeling. It was much different than any other time. It wasn’t needy or so heart gripping I didn’t think I would survive it, it was calm.

His hands cupped my face and we pull away for a brief moment. I don’t miss the smile he gives me before pulling me in for another one. I wrap my arms around his waist and he’s really making all the moves. Eventually I find myself playing with the backs of his hairs.

When we pull away, he still holds me, almost afraid to let go. A small laugh escapes my lips.

“What?” He says so softly yet amused.

“Nothing, I just…” Everything.

“I can’t believe your really here.”

—

Leaving cousins was always the worst. The packing, looking at the house once last time before returning for 9 months. This time as different though.

Fall comes round always too quick for my liking, almost like the seasons trying to rid out memories of summer. But summer was intertwined in all of our memories like a cord. Nothing would sever that.

Steven was an early acceptance into Princeton. After all of his hard work, Steven accomplished his 4 year old dream of walking down the school halls shouting that he got into Princeton.

Belly was doing good. Her grades were always subpar like mine which was something we always bonded about. Always lifting each other up when Steven drowns us with his smart antics.

And me? I’m currently sat in my car parked in the parking lot for Brown.

Conrad told me he’d meet me by these benches that he sent me a picture of, so I guess I would have to gauge off of that.

Once I got out of the car, I grabbed my bag of necessities while closing the door and locking the car. I smiled to myself and for a moment I was lost. Just fucking lost.

I can’t believe you’re really here.

Those words clung with me like the dust hangs to my shirt. That day is forever ingrained in my memory. I’ll never forget that moment, no matter what happens. It was almost like a promise, that this was really the beginning.

I began to walk through the crowd of people, searching aimlessly. I would spot him out in a heartbeat, but there were a shit ton of people.

That’s when I saw him, in this cute little stripped polo top, looks down at his phone. I’m guessing it was to text me but the excitement that fills my body is blocking off all of my conscious.

When he looks up, the biggest fucking smile covers his face. I start walking towards him and drop my bags, running into his arms.

“You’re here.” He mumbles into my shoulder. He was feeling me, I understand why. I had to touch his hairs to make sure he’s real too. But he his.

“Yeah, i’m here.”

Conrad takes my bag like the gentlemen he is, and the whole walk to his room he’s staring at me. I meet his eyes occasionally but look away for the most part.

Once we get to his room, I can’t help but notice how neat his side is compared to his roommates, Trusky. He wasn’t here, but It was obvious to tell who’s sides who.

“I was thinking we could maybe go for lunch or something?” Conrad places my bag down and then kicks his foot lightly against the wood of his desk. He looked like a little kid asking for a cookie.

“Whatever you want.” I say with a innocence to my voice.

Conrad smirks and I shut the door behind us. When I turn around, Conrad wraps his arms around me and spins me around lightly. I can’t help the giggle that emerges.

Conrad throws me on the bed right before laying down next to me. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” The glimmer in both of our eyes is something I would carry with me. The hope, the want. I knew this was our start, just the very first page. A sea of blue was conjuring in his eyes, and I was about to be sucked into it.

Instead of going to lunch, me and Conrad lost track of time and talked and kissed and did some more talking. It was refreshing.

“How’s Belly?” Conrad asks me.

I shrug, “She’s good. I mean, we’re good. I think her and Jere have been talking a lot.” Conrad raises his eyebrows and licks his lips. “You know what? I swore I heard them talking when I came over to the house last weekend.”

I smirk, “I think she’s happy.”

“He is too.”

The second me and Conrad got together, I told him about what Jeremiah said to me. He had told me not to worry and that Jeremiah was just being emotional.

But seeing Jeremiah so happy, it makes me happy. Belly, too. I think it warms us all a bit that we can all just, be.

“I talked to your mom the other day.”

A radiant smile, only that he shares for Susannah peaks through cracks of Conrad’s mouth. “Ah, really? What’d she say?”

“Said shes doing good. Also said your a fucking goofball.”

“Fuck you!” Conrad smacks my forehead lightly, always making sure not to legitimately hurt me. I loved that about him. “Hey, I have an idea.”

“What?”

I can’t believe this man.

When Conrad said he knew a place, I didn’t really know what he was talking about. I just went with the flow.

Only Conrad fucking Fisher would take me stargazing. That part of my heart was left for him. Only for him. He places a blanket on the grass and motions me to sit down with him.

It was a deserted little place, 20 minutes away from the campus. It was cozy.

I lay down next to Conrad and a small breeze hits me, making me shiver. Conrad wraps his arms around me almost instinctively, placing a kiss on top of my forehead.

“This is nice.” I breathe out.

“mhm.” Conrad hums and every now and then he places kisses on my cheeks and lips. I don’t stop him.

“I love you.” He mumbles in between kisses and eventually the kisses become more needy, more wanting. I felt the deja vu running through my veins.

Conrad slips a hand under my shirt and I pull away quickly. His face turns a crimson shade of red that even I can see in the night, “Fuck— I’m sorry—”

“No, no.” I place my hands on his shoulder. “I just uh—you’re the only.. my um.”

“Oh.” Conrad nods his head in understanding.

“I just, promise me it won’t be like last time?” Even though i knew this was clearly different, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forget that night. It’s ingrained in my head, everything. Every move, motion, the way his hands curved my body, everything.

“I promise.” I smile and my hands slip under his shirt, slowly taking it off. His body was good, really good. Conrad always was beautiful but in the night was when I found him most enchanting. The way his jaw was extra defined and how his hair fell down.

Conrad is slow to pull my top off, and he stares at me in the thick of the night. “You’re beautiful.”

“Your stuttering, Fisher, have you lost you’re touch?”

“Oh your in for it now.” Conrad leans down and kisses me neck, inching down to my collar bone and a soft moan escapes my lips.

This was beautiful, he was beautiful.

My childhood best-friend, my Conrad.

I’d love him forever, every single part of him. I’ve laughed, Cried, hell, i’ve done so many things for him. But this is the beginning, I know it is.

I lean down to look at the infinity necklace hanging off of my chest, which Conrad has traced circles around. It’s true, I would go endlessly around those curves for him.

I hit myself thinking about how badly i wanted to forget him, but this summer only made me remember him.

Conrad Fisher.

—

THATS IT YALLLL!! I’m crying rn this story means so much to meeee :)) I can’t say it’s fully over because who knows what the future holds (thanks for the quote belly) But i love you all so much and I hope to have more projects soon! Also love that cheesy ass ending 🫶🏻

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8 @imaspecialpersonwhoneedshelp @awatt31 @user0440822 @jackierose902109 @chocolatefartstrawberry @whoisjellyellie @apollo3475 @watercolorskyy

(tag list never works ugh)

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #belly conklin #conrad x reader #team jeremiah #tsitp #love #summer love #Spotify

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 2 years

Text

Under the Covers - Bucky Barnes

Requested by anonymous.

Prompt: making blankets together, from the fall writing prompts. A/N: For some reason when I got this request I couldn’t stop thinking about this tweet from a few years back. I edited it to fit the time line, but yeah, this took a turn. I hope you enjoy! Please send in more fall requests!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1,291 Synopsis: After sending Bucky an inappropriate tweet, the reader and Bucky make blankets to cuddle under.

Warnings: mentions of sex

“What are you smiling at?” Sam asked, dropping into the seat next to you.

“You know how we’ve been working on ingratiating Bucky into modern culture? Making him watch popular movies, try out stupid internet challenges, stuff like that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been sending him tweets that I think are funny, and he almost never understands them,” you said, laughing to yourself. “And I just found a good one.”

“Show me.”

“I don’t know if I should,” you said, turning your screen off.

“Why not?”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Even better,” Sam said, reaching for your phone. You took it from his hands and let out a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll show you, but don’t judge me too much, alright?”

“Deal.”

“Jesus,” Sam said, handing the phone back to you with wide eyes.

“It’s totally gonna freak him out,” you said, smiling again. You sent the tweet to Bucky, eager to hear his response.

“You two have a very strange relationship.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“It’s not that,” he said with a smile, “But I am going to get out of here before he sees that and comes to find you.”

“Good idea.”

“Good luck.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I don’t understand,” Bucky said, sighing at you in the fleece fabric aisle of the craft store.

“What’s not to understand? You pick out two fabrics and we make a blanket out of it.” You picked up a pattern with skulls but put it back down.

“You sent me a tweet about,” he looked around the aisle, his voice dropping low, “Sucking dick.”

“I did. Did that make you think something was going to happen?” you asked, looking back at him with a smirk. Bucky rolled his eyes at you and looked at the multitude of fabrics in front of him.

You came up next to him, resting your chin on his shoulder, waiting until he looked at you. He gave you a tired smile.

“Sometimes I feel like you try to confuse me.”

“It’s not my intent,” you said, giving him a soft smile. “How am I supposed to suck your dick under the covers if we don’t have any blankets to get under?” Bucky took in a breath and shook his head. He kissed your forehead.

“Alright, let’s pick out fabrics.”

“Yay! I’m thinking we do a fall theme?”

“Maybe,” Bucky said, seriously considering the fabrics in front of him. “But I do really like this purple unicorn one.” He pulled out the fabric and you snorted. The fabric in question was covered in a blue and purple galaxy design, with sparkly unicorns and shooting stars all over it. “Cute, right?”

“So cute,” you agreed. “Put it in the cart.”

For the next twenty minutes, the two of you went up and down the aisle, throwing different rolls of fabric in and out of the cart. In the end, you decided on a witchy cat pattern, a leafy one, a colorful pumpkin one, and the purple unicorn one.

By the time you got home, you were both exhausted, but determined to make these blankets. You were sure that Bucky was excited about what might come after the blankets were made, but he was still excited to make the blankets.

You sat on the floor of your small apartment with him, pushing your furniture out of the way so that you could both lay the fabric out flat. You explained the process to Bucky and noticed a frown on his face.

“What?” you asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made anything.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever made anything by hand, just for myself.”

“You made us dinner the other night.”

“That was because we needed to eat,” he said, looking down at his fabric. You frowned at him.

“Well, you better make a damn good blanket then,” you said. He looked up at you with a gentle look on his face. There was something unreadable there, something you hadn’t seen on his face in some time. “And if you don’t, well, we can still get under the fabric together.”

You stood up and Bucky gave you a confused look. “Where are you going?”

“We need proper music,” you said. You selected your Halloween playlist and Monster Mash started to play. You danced back to your sections of fabric and Bucky laughed at you.

For the next half hour, you danced and sang along to the Halloween playlist, offering Bucky tips as the two of you cut sections of your blankets and made a hundred little ties. You finished up first and moved over to sit by Bucky. You watched as he finished up the last of his ties, watched every movement of his hands almost hypnotically.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You are making impressive work,” you said with a shrug, “I like seeing you make those ties.”

Bucky just smiled at you and leaned in to kiss you. You closed your eyes as your lips met his, and in a instant, Bucky had the blanket over the two of you. In the dark of the blanket, Bucky’s hands were on you, exploring your skin as he kissed you passionately.

You wrapped your arms around him and drew him in close, needing his body weight on top of you. His lips trailed down your neck, and just as you were about to moan his name, you heard the door slam shut.

You both sat up, the blanket still over top of your heads. Bucky threw it off and you saw Sam standing in the doorway, a look of disgust on his face.

“This is a common space. You couldn’t wait to jump each other’s bones until you were in your room?” he asked. You laughed, hiding behind Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said,

With your mood officially killed, you stood up and followed Sam into the kitchen. When he barged in, you didn’t immediately see that he also brought Chinese food with him. While eating, you showed off your blankets to him and he seemed less than impressed.

Once you all were done eating, Sam left, not wanting to hang out for another moment with the two of you.

“I’m exhausted,” you said when you shut the door behind Sam.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Bucky said, grabbing your newly made blankets off the back of the couch. In your bedroom, you flopped down on the bed and Bucky laid down next to you. He threw both of your fleece blankets around you, his under yours.

“Yours is so much better than mine,” you said. Bucky laughed in disbelief. “It is. You should take up sewing or crocheting next.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, pulling you into his arms.

“I could watch you use those needles all day long. Oh, that reminds me. I promised you--”

“It’s late, Y/N,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You look exhausted.”

“But I promised.”

“I don’t care. I’m exhausted, too. I just want to lay here in these beautiful blankets, well, my beautiful one and your mediocre one--”

“Shut up,” you said, shoving his shoulder playfully.

“I just want to lay with you in these blankets and get some sleep. It’s been a long day,” he said. You sighed in his arms and closed your eyes.

“Fine, but first thing in the morning, we’re going under the covers.”

“If you insist, I guess I won’t stop you,” he said, smiling against your forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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goodluckclove · 29 days

Text

The Hot Dog Scene (Migration Patterns Preview)

I feel like I have to include this to provide closure to those invested in my Hot Dog Discourse. It's a first draft so it might look different when the book comes out next year, but like...here it is. The Hot Dog Scene.

Edgar lingered. He looked tired in a positive way. Tired like how a person feels after they stop shouldering as much of their unimaginable burden. His eyes locked with Tenzin and he twitched an attempt at a smile.

“You want to get a hot dog?” Tenzin asked him.

He blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

“Or chili fries, maybe? I’m probably going to get chili fries.”

“It’s the place next door,” Jude told him. “It’s good. They make a great Seattle dog.”

Edgar furrowed his brow. “What’s that?”

“Polish sausage with grilled onions and cream cheese.”

“They also,” Tenzin’s stomach lurched again and she sighed inwardly. “They also make regular hot dogs that humans can eat.”

Apparently all it took was the concept of a new type of hot dog to immediately start lifting Edgar’s spirits. “It’s – good?” He asked. “I never thought...I couldn’t even imagine that to be a thing that existed.”

Jude got this devilish look on zir face that Tenzin hated. “You’ve had a bagel with cream cheese and lox, right?”

“I suppose I have.”

“It’s the same idea! If Riley’s working the counter ask them to add grilled cabbage with a sprinkle of jalapeno brine. You won’t regret it.”

A slow, warm smile blossomed over Edgar’s face. He was excited, genuinely excited, despite the looming life-changing circumstances hanging just above their heads. Earlier today he was questioning if Scott would still love him under a new set of pronouns. Now all of that was rendered unimportant thanks to the promise of a singular, five-dollar hot dog.

It was childlike in a way that struck Tenzin right across the face. She knew then why Scott fell for him so instantly. Why Katy considered him family.

She bopped him with the corner of her briefcase and nodded towards the door. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“Right now?” Edgar looked uncertain. “Don’t you still need to..?” Eventually his anticipation for a new flavor overtook whatever hesitation he had. “Uh – yeah! Yeah, okay. Cool!”

The hot dog place was dingy, yet clean. The checkered tiled floors were scuffed in the way that implied a heavy amount of foot traffic, while the furniture looked brand new. Tenzin and Edgar took a seat at the counter by the large window after they ordered.

Tenzin got a bite to eat here whenever she was in the area because it was a weird enough eatery to stock RC Cola. She sipped at the rim of her mug and enjoyed the icy, sweet fizz. Beside her Edgar watched out the window with the straw of his own glass held between his teeth.

“It’s interesting,” Edgar began.

Here we go. “What is?” Tenzin asked hesitantly, wiping her mouth with a napkin from the nearby dispenser.

“RC Cola is more sour than I expected. It’s not bad – I like how smooth it is. It’s like…” Edgar took a drink from the straw and analyzed it carefully. “Cinnamon, maybe. Some kind of orange or lemon, and – it’s crazy, but I almost get a hint of rose. It reminds me of kombucha.”

She didn’t even realize that Edgar got the same soda as her. It looked like he enjoyed it, though with much more thought than Tenzin tended to give to anything she ate or drank.

“Do you do that all the time?” She said. “Do you just analyze everything you taste?”

Edgar shrugged. “It helps me appreciate it.”

“You never just eat something just to eat it?”

He looked close to embarrassment, but something changed at the very last moment and he doubled down. “It feels more mindful to...know what I’m eating. And why I like it. How it makes me feel. I mean, growing up I didn’t always get – I don’t know. I like to be grateful for things like this.”

Tenzin let out a stifled laugh. She worried Edgar would take it personally, but when he spoke again there was a smile in his voice. “Do I sound like a crazy person?”

“You sound like a birthright.”

She looked at him sitting beside her. Edgar was newly relaxed – more so than usual, especially with it just being him and her on their own. He smiled easily with his eyes shimmering in a soft gold glow, one that held its potency without trouble. This might’ve been the first time she saw him use his abilities with total control. He looked in that moment like any other witch town member. If she noticed him in the Mess Hall she’d take him to be a new employee she just didn’t get a chance to meet yet.

And he was reading her now. Reading her like Regina used to when they first met. Or was he? Growing up Tenzin would see her mom’s eyes glow momentarily in moments of high emotion. Regina told her it was an empty gesture, a reflex that couldn’t actually gain any real information. Not from Tenzin. Not anymore.

Edgar wore another beaded bracelet around his wrist that she didn’t notice until now. It was done up in multiple colors, just a repeating line of black and gray and white and green. She recognized the Agender pride flag as one of the gender identities Scott, and by proxy Tenzin, were informed of in their childhood.

That must’ve been one intense conversation between Edgar and Jude. Tenzin was grateful she didn’t have to be the one to navigate it.

“You never showed her your work,” Edgar said, eyes pointed down towards Tenzin’s bag.

“Mm,” Tenzin quickly put on an indifferent demeanor. “Don’t really need to.”

Edgar raised his brow. “Really? We drove all this way.”

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s exactly what Jude’s thinking right now. So when I go ahead and ignore most of what ze told me to do, ze can’t get that upset,” Tenzin raised her drink to punctuate her point. “Because we drove all this way.”

“Clever,” Edgar said.

He said that with both sarcasm and admiration. Very recently she described Edgar as her brother. He technically was in at least a few senses. Absolutely not in many others.

When they met Tenzin was so crazed by her Knight’s Bond that she elbow struck him off his feet and could’ve easily beaten him to death. She cleaned the blood off his face once she healed him and he sat so carefully, not even wincing at the sight of his own blood.

It could be that he was used to the sight. The smell. The taste, even. Enough so that it didn’t surprise him anymore.

I won’t let anything put you in danger, she told him when he lingered in the car before meeting Regina. Tenzin meant it, too. She couldn’t explain why and even now the reasons confused and aggravated her.

The cashier that took their order came by with two baskets with hot dogs and fries. The teen placed one in front of each of them, muttered a weak bon appetite, and retreated back to the register.

Edgar’s attention was fully enraptured by the meal. He looked down at it and grinned. His eyes were massive and bright with shy excitement. Tenzin wonders how something so tarnished could be cleaned to glimmer so brightly.

It is unfair for Tenzin to feel an echo her feelings for Scott reflected in a separate human being. It just wasn’t right.

She took a french fry from the pile in her basket and bit into it. It was hot, but no too hot.

“How is it?” Edgar asked, hushed and eager.

Tenzin ate another fry. “Uh – good?” She attempted. “It’s...crispy. Salty. Made of – potato.”

Edgar picked up a french fry. It was a french fry. It was the first result in a stock image search of the word french fry and did not deserve remotely as much focus as Edgar was giving it.

“You know what I don’t see a lot of?” He looked at Tenzin but didn’t give her time to answer. “Waffle fries. Why do you think that is?”

He’s supposed to be the normal one, Tenzin thought in stunned silence. He’s supposed to be the one that got to be a regular human being.

Edgar didn’t look like he noticed her silence. “I think they’re harder to fry. That’s just my theory though. I never got to work a deep fryer,” he ate the fry in his hand and smiled. “Ooh, it’s fresh.”

He took a sip of his soda and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands in private anticipation. Edgar Gallows was the origin of Scott’s agony for his entire life, and now the guy was revving himself up to eat a hot dog. Treating it like he was about to land a perfect back flip on the first try. How did the events of Tenzin’s life lead up to this of all things?

She watched Edgar tenderly handle his Seattle-style hot dog, a title of which sounded deeply questionable since Tenzin had been to Seattle for business and didn’t see anyone slathering their processed meat with cream cheese. She wasn’t sure if it was an actually style native to the city as a whole. It was far more likely to her that some pervert thought himself clever and decided to make Washington worse as a result of it.

Edgar bit into the end and chewed. His focus was refined and laser sharp, but Tenzin knew she could’ve left the restaurant right now and he wouldn’t notice her absence until she was halfway home.

An entire conversation was being held with himself through the slight twitch of his brow and narrowing of his large eyes. The gold returned in a soft shimmer, showing just how much emotional stimulation Edgar was getting from just one bite.

He’s...reading the intentions? Tenzin truly felt one misstep away from losing her mind. Is Edgar reading the intentions of his hot dog?

She smiled deliriously thinking about it. Then, softly, she began to laugh. Eventually the sound was loud enough to attract Edgar’s attention. He swallowed and smiled sheepishly.

“’S good,” he said.

Tenzin tried to speak and could only laugh. She held her hand over her mouth, lolled her chin down to her chest, and laughed even harder. By the time Tenzin finally got a hold of her senses Edgar was already halfway done with his hot dog. He ate calmly and paid little mind to her hysterics. Edgar remained perfectly satisfied with the situation he was in.

“It’s really good,” he clarified while she caught her breath. “It’s probably top – top five. In my list of hot dogs.”

“It’s not even number one?” Tenzin’s voice was hoarse from laughter and she was forced to drink some cola to dull the burn. “Ah. Ah man. What a shame.”

“No, it’s good!” Edgar grinned. “I always love to try a new food.”

He looked happy. The affection Tenzin felt for him in that moment was stark and disorientating. It was something long-sleeping in her chest suddenly startled out of hibernation.

This was her brother. No. Yes. Maybe. The answer didn’t matter as much as Tenzin’s new conviction. Edgar was here now, after all this time, and there was no point resenting him for things he didn’t know, understand, or have any control over.

Scott was willing to die in his search for Eddie. If he didn’t find Edgar when he did, he likely would be dead. Or worse. But none of that happened, and now the two of them could sit together and eat a strange and slightly sacrilegious hot dog.

Edgar went back to happily eating. Tenzin decided to join him then, and she picked up the soft bun and bit into the sausage. She tried to focus on what she was eating. It was – crispy? Crispy, but not crunchy. It tasted like cooked meat and tangy cream – so creamy meat, but not like that because that sounds terrible.

It was okay.

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