#jessie writes about music

[rustbeltjessie]

Sometime around age twenty, I realized there were many songs that I’d long loved but hadn’t always understood in a bone-deep way, because I hadn’t yet lived them, that I could now relate to. But it was at age twenty-two that I had that realization specifically about “Both Hands.” I was lying on the top bunk of the bunk beds I shared with my roommate, in our cold room, chain-smoking French cigarettes, listening to an Ani DiFranco mix tape, and making notes for a poem I wanted to write, about a long-distance lover of mine. A guy who had said I was his soulmate, and who talked of coming to Chicago, to stay with me, until: Well, I’m seeing this other girl, and I don’t know if I can stand to be away from her for that long. It wasn’t him seeing another girl that I objected to—I’d continued to see other boys and girls throughout the entirety of our whatever-it-was—it was the fact that he no longer wanted to come see me. I had been replaced. So much for soulmates.

My newest newsletter is the second installment of These Fucking Songs. This one is about Ani DiFranco's "Both Hands."

#jessie lynn mcmains #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #ani difranco #both hands #my writing #nostalgia #heartbreak #jessie writes about music #these fucking songs #substack

[ashtrayfloors]

Okay, okay, enough of defending their punk cred. Let’s move on to the songs, which are what really matter, anyway.

“Hold My Life,” oh man, I adore Paul’s raspy croon—hold my life until I’m ready to use it—there’s a little bit of a ‘60s soul feel here, you can definitely hear the immense influence bands like Big Star (Alex Chilton of Big Star, et. al., produced the outtakes/alternate takes that are included on the extended version of Tim) had on Paul’s songwriting.

And if “Hold My Life” shows where they came from, “I’ll Buy” is a nod to things that came after; it’s a country-punk-rock song, it’s a precursor to the alt-country bands that began forming full-force in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s.

One reason I adore Paul Westerberg’s songs is that, no matter the style of music, no matter what he’s singing about, he always sounds like a man at the end of his rope, always sounds so goddamn desperate. It’s the desperation that keeps the punk edge in there, the desperation that prevents it from being dull. I don’t understand people who have never been desperately broke, or desperately in love, or desperately needed to get the hell out of town. What kind of life have you been leading if you’ve never walked that razor-thin line between hope and despair?

“Kiss Me on the Bus” is sexy and fun and upbeat, but there is still a desperation: if you knew how I felt, now, you wouldn’t act so adult, now.

“Bastards of Young” is not only the punkest song on the album, it is one of the punkest songs ever written (yeah, I said it), look, I don’t care that it’s kinda polished and sounds more like power pop or college radio rock than it does like the punk rocks, it is so punk, that yowl at the beginning, Paul’s voice so ragged, and the lyrics, the lyrics!: God, what a mess, on the ladder of success, where you take one step and miss the whole first rung. Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled. It beats pickin’ cotton and waitin’ to be forgotten. We are the sons of no one, bastards of young. We are the sons of no one, bastards of young. The daughters and the sons. Christ.

“Left of the Dial” is kinda power pop, kind of big rock’n’roll, and it’s one-half sweet ode to college/independent radio, and one-half ode to people living, broken, messed-up half-lives.

And “Here Comes A Regular,” oh man, it breaks my damn heart, it shows the balladeer direction Paul was headed in and his lyrics shine, it is so sad, and, of course, desperate, and it is so quiet that the whole thing sounds like he’s almost given up but he just has to say this one last thing, and it reminds me of my sad hoodlum friends and myself back in the days when we went out to the bar every night.

Paul Westerberg once said: “My style is ultimately both kinds of things. Sometimes you just love the little acoustic songs, and other times you want to crank the goddamn amp up, and those two parts of me are forever entwined.” Me too, Paul, me too.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, excerpts from a piece I wrote about The Replacements' Tim (November 2013)

#jessie lynn mcmains #writing #prose #music #the replacements #jessie writes about music #tim #2013 #my writing

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️

You're tired of hearing about Eddie's crushes, hiding your feelings for him. Sick of feeling second best, you decide to move on.

Beer, a pool, and a very handsome Steve Harrington happens. Eddie isn't so thrilled about the Steve part.

Just a lil two parter to get back into writing

Part one

Eventual Eddie Munson x Reader

Steve Harrington x Reader

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work

❤️

It was a rainy Tuesday when Eddie broke your heart. Unknowingly, but it was broken all the same.

He had came to the Hellfire table in a suspiciously good mood. Beaming smile, eyes shining with happiness.

Turns out he had ran into Jessie who was his newest crush, she was the coolest, most badass babe on the planet according to Eddie.

This had been repeated constantly for the last few weeks and usually you were able to smile politely, pretend you weren't dying inside hearing him talk about his dream girl.

It had been this way for a year now, through multiple crushes, a few hook ups and one near potential girlfriend for Eddie, so you could push yourself to be happy for him one more time right?

No, today it was like your heart finally had enough, a deep ache was building inside you and felt like all the pain was exploding inside of you all at once.

Tears pool in your eyes and you catch the sympathetic look that Dustin throws in your direction. It's enough to sober you up instantly.

You didn't want to constantly pine over Eddie when he didn't want you, it was agony being so completely smitten with someone who noticed every woman but you.

It was like something in you just snapped and you had enough.

"Hey princess, you okay?" Eddie's voice breaks through your reverie and you startle a little as he peers at you intently with his big brown eyes.

His hand is on yours and your whole body feels alight at just his slightest touch, it was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, Eddie could be extremely perceptive when he wanted to be.

You needed to get over how you felt about him and soon, because you were sick of the constant heartache, second guessing yourself and feeling second best to Eddie's crushes.

Moving on would be a good thing. You couldn't take it if Eddie ever found out how you felt about him, embarrassment burns inside of you just thinking about his reaction, and how awkward Hellfire would be due to his rejection.

No, it was best for everyone if you found a way to get over Eddie.

❤️

Normally you didn't go to parties, especially not parties on a school night. However, there was a small part of you that wanted a change, to have some fun and let loose.

One of Jason's friends was throwing a party at his house, there was beer kegs, wine coolers and the biggest pool you had ever seen in your life.

Eddie was at the party to do his usual dealings, he catches your eye and looks stunned for a brief second.

"What are you doing here sweetheart? Parties aren't usually your thing?" you shrug and grab a bottle of beer.

"Just wanted a change of scenery I guess" it's then you notice that Jessie was also at the party and Eddie had noticed judging by the way his eyes light up.

Your heart sinks and you're about to make an escape until Eddie tugs on your hand.

"Hey, maybe you should stick close to me incase one of Jason's dipshit friends tries anything" you smile, touched at his protectiveness but you know deep down he'd rather be talking to Jessie than trailing after you all night.

"It's okay. I saw Robin by the pool so I'll go and chat to her for a bit" he's about to say something else but Jessie comes over and takes up all of his attention.

Yup, it's definitely your time to leave. There's no way you wanted to be around for Eddie making googly eyes at Jessie.

❤️

Between the pounding music, Eddie and Jessie and the fact you've lost Robin in the crowd, it was safe to say that the first hour of the party was a bust.

By the second hour you had gotten involved in a game of beer pong with Robin, Steve, Vickie and a few others.

At first you were kinda wary hanging out with Steve but you soon found out that he had changed so much from the King Steve of a few years ago.

He's kind, funny and kind, genuinely a good guy and him and Robin are like two peas in a pod. Platonic besties with a capital P she tells you and Vickie.

It's nice hanging out with them because everytime you see Jessie and Eddie together it needled at the ache in your heart.

Eddie joins in at one point but seems tense.

"Why are hanging out with Harrington?'' he hisses under his breath and you scowl.

"He's really nice" Eddie scoffs at this.

"Preppy, rich, douchebag? he's seen dating total babes every few weeks." you stiffen.

"Of course so why would he be seen with me right?" you ask heatedly and his eyes widen.

"That's not what I meant... You're beautiful sweetheart..." yeah but just a friend you finish his sentence in your head.

"Just forget it Eddie, go back to Jessie" you hurry away from him and curse yourself for getting so upset.

Steve notices and asks if you want to hang out in the pool.

It's quieter outside than in the house, people are just lazing around lightly buzzed, lost in their own conversations.

Steve makes you laugh by jumping in the pool fully clothed, he lets out a yell when he hits the water.

"Fuck, its freezing" and you swear you hear Robin calling him a dingus. The thought makes you smile.

"So Munson huh?" Steve asks gently and your smile vanishes.

"Mmm, tonight was my big plan to get over him. Didn't work out so well" There's a brief moment of silence that's broken when Steve takes you by surprise and you're suddenly in the pool beside him, soaking wet and torn between laughter and exasperation.

"Steve!" you huff out and his answering smile tugs at your heart. There's also something you didn't expect, a spark.

He moves closer to you and it's like the two of you are magnets. Steve strokes your cheek and his lips meet yours.

It's nice, it's really really nice and you moan softly as Steve gently tugs at your lower lip, deepens the kiss and pulls you even closer.

Steve pulls away and you both exchange a secret, shy smile at the moment you had.

You kiss him again and this time it's a little more hot and heavy. Only this time when you come apart, you're not alone.

Eddie has just come outside. He's staring at you and Steve, his expression blank but you notice something stirring deep in his eyes, a flash of emotion that you can't place.

Then it's gone and he storms back inside..

🖤

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you

[hier--soir]

☆★ jessie's masterlist★☆

hi welcome :)

my blog is 18 + minors do not interact. warnings/tags included on each individual work. do not copy or translate my writing.

follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

ELLIE WILLIAMS | THE LAST OF US

★ sun don't set: life in the little house is calm - quiet. days pass in a blur of fruit and sunshine and companionship. slow mornings, afternoons, and evenings. ellie is slowly rediscovering her love for music, and on that journey, she writes a song about you.

JOHN PRICE | CALL OF DUTY

★ heart to heart: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY | CALL OF DUTY

★big: he’s big and he knows it.

JOEL MILLER | THE LAST OF US

★ a lover's pinch [series]: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

★ take your medicine: your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen

★ ripe: a night out with old friends helps you and joel realise what’s been missing in your relationship.

★ fwb!joel [series]: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. slowly but surely, it turns into more.

★ night breeze: joel comes home to find you sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes.

★ fake it: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it?

★ back to texas: joel goes back to his house in texas

★ sleepy: joel is out like a light, but you can only think of one thing that will help you fall asleep

★ be good: joel was never really the submissive type. until he met you, and realised he'd do whatever you asked of him

★ tender is the night [for a broken heart]: a birthday dinner gets interrupted by a drunk ex, who still can't say the words you need to hear.

★ under the night [series]: peaceful settlement life in jackson is vastly different to how you once lived; traversing the united states, fighting to survive, and constantly looking over your shoulder. when you find solace and connection in joel miller and your guard lowers, will it become clear that jackson isn't as safe as it once seemed?

ABBY ANDERSON | THE LAST OF US PART II

★ high strung: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension.

★ one last time: when the woman you love comes crawling back in the middle of the night, can you convince her to stay?

FRANCISCO MORALES | TRIPLE FRONTIER

★ vis-à-vis: your bedroom window offers a direct view into your cute neighbour's apartment. as time goes by, you two start looking for each other through the glass. shy glances become desperate, needy glimpses into each other's lives until one day, you finally make contact.

DIN DJARIN | THE MANDALORIAN

★ raising cain [series]: over fifteen months and three different cities, two lonely souls keep finding their way back to one another. leading fragile lives of solitude, of violence, both Cain and Din Djarin can't help but be drawn to the familiarity in the other's embrace; the feeling of another person truly knowing them, in a world where not many can. as their lives begin to unravel, the two are faced with a choice between trusting, or having it all end in bloodshed.

FRANK CASTLE | THE PUNISHER

★ boxer!frank:

on the ropes: a dive bar, a stranger in an alley, and a punch to the kidney.

#my writing #masterlist #joel miller fanfiction #abby anderson fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fanfiction #fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction

[flem17ng]

would love love love a jessie x dancer!r pls & thankyou 💖 ps I love your work

strength and grace: Jflem x dancer!reader

note: This was so fun to write anon! Thanks for the prompt x

summary: jessie passes the same dance studio every day on her walk and admires the dancers. It never occurred to her that one of them was admiring her back. 

word count: 2.7k

The snow was thick on the pavement that morning and jessie thanked the poor bastard who’d taken the time to salt the path the night before. The snow made banks in both sides as she trudged onward. Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets and she hid her face in the collar of her jumper. Training never stopped, even in winter when the wind was sub zero and the field had to be heated. She was passing a small row of shops when gentle music made her pause. It echoed strangely through the empty street. It came from a stone building with large windows. She’d seen it before but had never taken the time to admire the dancers within. 

The glass was almost frosted over, but she leaned up to see inside. 

A lone figure stood in the warm light dressed in a half zipped hoodie and sweatpants. Her hair was in a messy bun that seemed to be slipping from the hair-tie. The woman moved to the music like water: graceful and fluid. every so often she paused, pressed a button on her phone and started the dance again. 

Jessie could have stayed there for hours watching that girl dance. But eventually her fingers started going numb and she was rudely reminded that she had to get to the training ground. 

She loved being back home in Canada, loved it even more when she was home for winter. Everything was so quiet and cold. The hockey season was kicking off, the ski fields opened up. Unfortunately it did mean training her ass off in freezing rain most mornings and today was no different. the raindrops started falling heavily as she pulled herself away from the dance studio window and she wished, randomly, that she was in there with that strange dancer instead of out in the cold. 

***

No matter how many times you practiced the move, you couldn’t pin it down. The studio was empty that morning because you had come in so early. You’d had to hype yourself up to get out of the house because of all the snow on the road. You have never been so grateful for the studios heating system. 

“fuck” you groaned. One second off the beat! Maybe you were being a perfectionist but it needed to be perfect. You pressed play again. The music filled the room in waves: piano, strange vocals, guitar. 

You lifted your hands above your head and moved. The dance wasn’t for a competition or anything, more of a passion project. You danced to get out emotions, to release. You moved to the music fluidly, feeling it, understanding. The tricky part was coming up again and you scrunched your eyebrows, focusing. 

“ugh” you groaned again and rubbed your eyes. you psyched yourself out again. You looked around the empty studio and caught movement in the corner of your eye: a woman walking past the window, bundled up in the cold. For a second you thought your eyes met but she kept walking. maybe she was watching you dance, you thought and smiled. 

***

Jessie stood with her teammates as they made their lap of the stadium. The game had gone well and the energy was always fantastic during a home game. It was extra special for her because the game was so close to home. The crowd was full of family and friends. Fans who traveled to be there held large signs and decorated themselves with maple leaves and red paint. 

It was no small secret that you were a big fan of women’s soccer. Specifically that you were a big fan of Jessie Fleming. You first watched her play in the olympics a few years ago and from then on went to as many games as possible. Your friends often teased you about it, and sure, maybe it was a little silly. The truth was you just loved to watch her move. The way she ran across the pitch, the way her legs seemed to go wherever she needed to be. her muscles stretched and contracted and  her arms- Ok so maybe it wasn’t just about her soccer skills. 

The game had been a good one, you’d managed to get tickets right at the front and now the whole team was standing just a few metres away waving to the crowd. 

“omg Y/n i think that player you like is looking at you” your friend whispered with a smirk. You scanned the team and sure enough Jessie Fleming was watching you. She had a strange expression on her face, as if she was looking for someone she knew. Her cheeks were red and her hair was messy from the game. Dispite the cold air, she had pushed up her sleeves to sit above her shoulders making you blush.

She kept looking at you before shaking her head and giving you a grin. 

“what was that about” your friend laughed and slapped your arm. You would have replied but at that moment you were far too busy reminding your heart how to beat properly. 

Down on the field Jessie was tugged away by Quinn. they were talking about something, ball movement or something along that line but jessie was still thinking about the girl in the crowd. Maybe she was being crazy but she could have sworn that was the dancer from the studio in her town. The way You had smiled at her left her feeling a little dizzy. 

“hello Jeffy? are you listening at all?” Quinn laughed giving Jessie a small shove. 

“What of course I am! Ball something right?” 

Quinn shook their head with a smile. 

“You’ve been out of it since i caught you staring all gooey eyed at that lady in the stands! Do you know her?”

“I was not gooey eyed! also no one says that anymore. I don’t know i think she’s from my town.” jessie explained with a humph. 

“well i’m pretty sure she was wearing your jersey. Must be a fan” Jessie blushed but brushed them off. She was a grown woman! she wasn’t getting ‘gooey eyed’ over a pretty stranger who happened to dance like an angel. 

*** 

The next day Jessie made her way up the street to the studio with a purpose. She needed to see you. Even if she didn’t know you, even if she didn’t speak to you, She wanted to see you, To make sure it really was you at the game. 

When she reached the window she didn’t hesitate to lean into the glass and look into the warmly lit room. Instead of an empty room like a few day before, there where lots of young children in tiny too-toos. The music was light and bouncing and the kids laughed and screamed as they pointed their toes and spun around. It was a moment before the instructor came into view and, just as jessie had thought, it was you. You stood at the front of the room in a  skirt that matched the children’s, a glowing grin covered your face as you corrected the movements of a few stray kids. 

Jessie couldn’t help but smile as she watched you dance around the group, movements just as fluid as before but playful, full of joy, childish. 

She blinked and you disappeared, the class still dancing to the music inside. 

“excuse me? can i help you” You asked, head sticking out the door into the frosty air. Jessie turned, startled, only to watch your face change into a similar look of surprise. 

“I’m so sorry! I walk by here to get to my work and i usually stop to watch you dance! I didn’t want to interfere.” Jessie squeaked, feeling suddenly guilty. 

“no no! don’t worry i just- I’m sorry I’m y/n.” You smiled and stepped onto the front step, your breath making clouds in the air. 

“I’m jessie” she grinned and held out a hand for you to shake. You blushed and took it. 

“Jessie…” you breathed. “well Jessie, I wish i could chat for a while but these kids might light something on fire if i’m gone too long!” You began to turn back inside when she touched your arm to stop you. 

“i’m sorry this is so unusual but… Did you go to a football game last night by any chance?” Jessie questioned, wondering if there really was any way to ask this in a not creepy way. 

“i did yes. My uh, My favourite player was playing” you grinned and turned back inside. Jessie stood there on the step for a minute after you closed the door. It was you she had seen in the crowd, and you had a favourite player… Jessie wasn’t sure why that made her stomach flip. She wanted to be your favourite player. The thought hit her like a tone of bricks. She barely knew you for christs sake! yet here she was, standing in the snow outside your studio thinking of every way she could make you like her. 

***

The next match came faster than expected. It was a friendly up in toronto and the team was buzzing. Jessie had spent the past few travel days planning how she could impress you. Honestly this wasn’t her thing and maybe she was being crazy but that didn’t stop her. The day of the game was cold, the pitch was hard and the game itself even harder. 

It was second half when the penalty was given to canada: the wall was set up and jessie (the designated kicker) was lining up the shot. 

The crowd roared and she spared a glance at the stands. It was then that she spotted you, sitting right by the goal in a thick Canada jumper. 

The whistle blew and jessie kicked. The ball sailed through the air, spinning and spinning. The crowd had already begun the rise when it slipped past the goalies fingers and slammed into the back of the net. 

Jessie ran forward towards the crowd and lifted her hands above her head, arching up into her toes and lifting her head to the sky mimicking the movement of a ballet dancer. At the last second, before the team ran into her, she looked at you, making sure you had seen the celebration. Sure enough, you stood in your seat, grin plastered across your face giving jessie a thumbs up. It was pretty easy to say that was the best game all season. 

***

The damn heating system had broken down. On the plus side, the kids classes had been canceled that morning because of the snow, on the down side: You now had an extra hour of empty studio time in the freezing Canada cold.  You switched the music on, adjusted your jumper and started to dance. You had finally finished the number, ironed out the kinks and gotten past the tricky timing. The movement flowed easily and you let your muscles relax and you danced. You were so engrossed in the music that you didn’t hear the door open or the footsteps on the floorboards. Only after the dance ended did your intruder announce herself. 

“sorry i didn’t know your coffee order so i just got hot chocolate” You wizzed around at the sound of her voice and saw her leaning against the mirror with to steaming cups and a sheepish smile. 

“Jesus Jessie! you scared me!” You tried to look angry but couldn’t, instead breaking into a grin and grabbing a cup from her outstretched hand. The drink warmed up your hands and you took a moment to let the heat seep through your bones. 

“you look so peaceful when you dance” Jessie all but whispered, looking down at her own cup. 

“oh… Thank you. I use dance to… center myself i think.” You leant against the mirror next to her and watched her watch you for a moment. “Nice goal the other day by the way. Very impressive. The celebration was a nice touch even if your form was a little off” 

Jessie blushed and rolled her eyes at herself, still in disbelief that she had done that. 

“well, I needed something to get your attention didn’t i?” she muttered. 

“you already had all my attention. I told you i was there to see my favourite player didn’t I?” You unzipped your number and turned around showing her the large “17” on your back. Jessie opened her mouth into a little ‘o’. 

“oh! I’m your favourite?” She smiled with wide eyes. You just laughed and shook your head.

“of course you are!” 

jessie grinned and ducked her head, embarrassed. Here she was making a fool out of herself for a pretty girl who already liked her. 

When she looked up she found you watching her with warm eyes. You admired her for a moment: Even in the cold of the audio Jessie seemed to radiate a warmth, a cozy energy. Her cheeks were pink (from blush or cold you couldn’t tell) and her eyes sparkled in the warm light. 

“I love hot chocolate by the way” you stated, holding up the cup. 

“oh yeah? Lucky guess i suppose.” Jessie took a large gulp of her own drink leaving a fine line of chocolate froth of her top lip. 

“oh wait you have- let me” Before you could think, you leant forward and wiped the foam from her top lip with your thump. Jessie let out a sharp breath making you pause, thumb still resting near her mouth. you looked at each-other for a long moment, your hand not moving, your eyes traveling from jessie’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

The door opened with a bang causing you both to jump apart. 

“Y/n!! we need to get the bloody heater working before tomorrow or i will freeze!” One of the other dancers yelled before noticing the awkward air in the room. “oh i’m sorry i didn’t know you had a… guest?”

Jessie coughed and stepped back. “no that’s ok I was just leaving” she turning and walked towards the door quickly. 

“wait jessie-“

“see you later y/n” jessie gave you a wave and a lopsided smile before stepping outside and out of view.

***

You couldn’t make it to the next game because it was in another province but you watched on TV. Jessie was glowing the whole game: running like lightning, tackling the opposition seamlessly. When she made an epic assist you stood on your sofa and cheered. And when the ball hit the net and the whole Canada team copied Jessie’s celebration from the other night (arms up, toes pointed like a squad of muscly ballerinas) you couldn’t help but gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. She knew you would be watching, Of course she did. 

Maybe it was this elation that possessed you to walk to the training center in the small hours of the morning on the day the team was set to arrive back. Maybe the thought of jessie smiling as she pretended to dance on the field was the thing that had you waiting for the bus to pull up and the doors to open. Whatever it was, there you were: the sun not yet risen, freezing in your ‘Fleming’ jersey in sub zero temperatures as jessie, looking tired and sore, got off the bus with her team. 

You waited no time running towards her, pausing only a second so she could drop her bags and open her arms. When you hugged her, all of a sudden you felt like no music or dance in the world could explain your feelings. 

“Jessie- I saw on TV! Did you ask them to do that with you? I saw-“

Jessie cut you off, placing a hand on your neck and finally putting her lips of yours. Her lips were cold and yours tasted like lip balm but you didn’t care. You pulled her closer and kissed her. Vaguely you could hear the team cheering but you paid it no mind, holding your girl close. 

This was all you needed. She was all you needed.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #canwnt #woso x reader #woso

[tkwrites]

Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck  x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together? 

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing. 

Me and you  We were a strange situation  And kissing you  Felt like Christmas Vacation  An exciting place to escape  Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday  -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one. 

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before. 

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music. 

“Do you need a towel, man?” 

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”    

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed. 

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”  

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot. 

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder. 

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide. 

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.” 

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women. 

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights. 

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music. 

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it. 

“Sure,” she yelled back. 

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on. 

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter. 

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it. 

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted. 

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it. 

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. 

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said. 

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her. 

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it. 

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.” 

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country. 

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it. 

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle. 

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.” 

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.” 

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.” 

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little. 

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit. 

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.” 

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made. 

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said. 

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.” 

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college. 

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk. 

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion. 

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants. 

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!” 

He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.” 

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space. 

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.” 

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue. 

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled. 

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat. 

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.  

“Sure.” 

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest. 

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake. 

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi. 

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released. 

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay. 

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin. 

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted. 

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered. 

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?” 

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer. 

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach. 

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come. 

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale. 

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness. 

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision. 

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling. 

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn. 

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried. 

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name. 

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside. 

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank. 

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left. 

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.   

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions. 

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother. 

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot. 

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.” 

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.” 

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd. 

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained. 

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed. 

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.” 

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home. 

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.” 

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning. 

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin. 

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together. 

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.” 

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard. 

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app. 

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over. 

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet. 

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.” 

“Thanks,” he said dryly.  

“Listen, I heard you last night.” 

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?” 

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.” 

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling. 

“Is this about that girl?” 

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -” 

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her. 

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside. 

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.” 

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.” 

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something. 

“How can we help you, darlin?” 

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?” 

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?” 

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.” 

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows. 

“Is it condemned?” 

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile. 

“Did they find out what caused it?” 

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.” 

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around. 

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t. 

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?” 

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.” 

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had. 

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?” 

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note? 

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am! 

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.” 

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.  

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts. 

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?” 

Yeah, my future, he thought. 

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -” 

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted. 

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation. 

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth. 

“Someone was just here looking for you.” 

Hope started hammering in his chest. 

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.” 

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick. 

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.” 

Now he really was going to throw up. 

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night? 

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side. 

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.” 

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell. 

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months. 

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books. 

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory. 

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up. 

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.” 

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team. 

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said. 

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?” 

“Another team.” 

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face. 

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it. 

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess. 

“Look him up on Insta.” 

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers. 

She messaged him, hoping. 

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder. 

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life. 

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight. 

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest. 

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it. 

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2. 

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting. 

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before. 

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be. 

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks. 

“Matthew?” 

His head shot up. 

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it. 

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer. 

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green? 

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight. 

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life. 

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.  

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot. 

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was. 

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed. 

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.” 

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.” 

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked. 

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.” 

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name. 

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood. 

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true. 

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if  her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him. 

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.” 

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit. 

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work. 

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision. 

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well. 

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?” 

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen. 

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.” 

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more. 

Josh stayed where he was. 

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?” 

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long. 

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked. 

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?” 

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.” 

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.” 

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out. 

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right? 

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.” 

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open. 

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else. 

Matthew was the last at the table. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her. 

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?” 

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away. 

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?” 

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate. 

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?” 

“Eight,” he said. 

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him. 

“All for here?” 

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.” 

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew. 

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded. 

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice. 

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at. 

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal. 

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?” 

“You��re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left. 

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation. 

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car. 

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?” 

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. 

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?” 

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud. 

Both guys just waited. 

“But the club caught fire.” 

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…” 

“Fucked it?” Benny asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’” 

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said. 

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.” 

“Why not?” 

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.” 

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams. 

“Uh, hello?” someone asked. 

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring. 

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor. 

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?” 

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him. 

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down. 

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said. 

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results. 

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes. 

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?” 

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.  

“I guess so.” 

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.” 

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer. 

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said. 

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside. 

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.” 

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.” 

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.” 

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.” 

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.” 

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was. 

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?” 

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.” 

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.” 

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed. 

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked. 

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded. 

“I’d at least give him a chance.” 

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.  

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week. 

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.” 

She giggled. 

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things. 

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed. 

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.” 

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?” 

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

 A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.” 

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced. 

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.” 

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her. 

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly. 

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.” 

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him. 

She looked instantly downcast. 

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important. 

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.” 

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them. 

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.” 

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. 

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them. 

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?” 

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.” 

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.  

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said. 

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.” 

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.” 

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?” 

“Right. Yeah, okay.” 

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes. 

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this? 

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked. 

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?” 

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s not fair,” she said. 

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again. 

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.” 

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it. 

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps. 

“Only when I think you might come in.” 

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning. 

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra. 

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs. 

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans. 

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.” 

“Can you define that a little more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…” 

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it. 

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.” 

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink. 

God, maybe they really were made for each other. 

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast. 

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing. 

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both. 

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close. 

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him. 

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other. 

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together. 

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft. 

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs. 

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers. 

There was the passion she’d been looking for. 

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs. 

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him. 

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough. 

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.” 

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again. 

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too. 

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” 

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused. 

“Please,” she whimpered. 

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone. 

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs. 

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles. 

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her. 

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body. 

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” 

“Okay.” 

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin. 

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to. 

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure. 

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning. 

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing. 

“What do you need?” 

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.” 

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched. 

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust. 

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps. 

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

Body shaking, she cried out. 

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her. 

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.” 

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times. 

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.” 

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?” 

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?” 

���If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool. 

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room. 

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed. 

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.” 

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere. 

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to. 

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling. 

“Okay?” she asked again. 

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in. 

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation. 

 God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving. 

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another. 

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot. 

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright. 

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath. 

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.” 

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.” 

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates. 

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more. 

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.” 

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept. 

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft. 

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already. 

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him. 

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better. 

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.” 

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one. 

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak. 

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint. 

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth. 

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect? 

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan. 

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close. 

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed. 

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!” 

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again. 

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face. 

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget. 

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room. 

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.” 

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home. 

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up. 

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled. 

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark. 

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed. 

Matthew nodded. 

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief. 

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed. 

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date. 

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for. 

Fanciction Masterlist

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey romance #hockey fic #hockey smut

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me. 

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature. 

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable. 

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place. 

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget. 

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city. 

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack. 

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem. 

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia. 

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch. 

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel. 

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city. 

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears. 

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul? 

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time. 

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath. 

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?” 

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house. 

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories. 

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones. 

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you. 

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance. 

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. 

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive. 

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore. 

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments. 

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice. 

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?” 

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments. 

“Park?” 

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.  

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease. 

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.” 

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake. 

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin. 

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance. 

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding. 

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds. 

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room. 

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes. 

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate. 

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face. 

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart. 

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating. 

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen. 

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making. 

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality. 

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group. 

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table. 

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering. 

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge. 

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse. 

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you. 

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at. 

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” 

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too. 

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you. 

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation. 

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray. 

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you. 

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.” 

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.” 

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you. 

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.” 

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows. 

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours. 

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively. 

It's Jimin. 

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere. 

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

#my heart's home series #jimin x reader #jimin smut #park jimin #jimin bts #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin x you #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #bts jimin #jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #pjm x you #pjm smut #pjm x reader #bts pjm #bangtan smut #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #bangtan fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut

[theravenclawgirl7]

Feet in the Bathroom Sink

Ellie carries your purse all night long

(Not beta read sorry for any mistakes it’s literally 2 am, I just really wanted to write this.)

Word Count: 1,000

You were in the bathroom sitting on the counter in an attempt to get as close to the mirror as possible. You brush on the second layer of mascara making your eyes look darker; more sultry.

Footsteps sound across your bedroom floor before Ellie appears in the bathroom’s doorway. She lets out a small chuckle at the sight of you while leaning one shoulder against the door frame.

You make eye contact with her in the mirror, “What?” you question her laugh.

“Nothing it’s just funny,” she motions to your feet which are sitting in the sink.

“It helps me get closer to the mirror,” you explain.

She just smiles and pushes off the wall. She closes the space between you two and places a small peck on your temple, “Almost ready? We’re supposed to meet Dina and Jess in 15,”

You nod, “Just finishing my mascara,”

Ellie just nods, leaving you to finish getting ready. ……. You make your way down the narrow staircase. It groans with each step you take causing you to make a mental note to see if Joel can fix that later.

Ellie is sprawled out on the couch. Her head is leaned back against the back of the couch, her ankle crossed over a knee, eyes closed.

At the sound of your approach her eyes open. She sits up, “Ready baby?”

“Yeah, I just gotta grab my coat and purse,”

Ellie nods and makes her way to the door grabbing your coat as you grab your purse off the entry table. She holds open your jacket for you to slip it on and then sneaks a peck on your lips.

You giggle at the sudden movement of your girlfriend. She opens the front door and you both make your way to the car. .…… The music hums over the chatter of the crowd in the small dive bar. It’s off the beaten path so it’s mostly locals that know the place, making it have a cozier atmosphere.

Some guitar solo is playing as Jessie and Dina walk through the doors. You and Ellie already sit in a booth tucked in a back corner of the bar.

You squeal in excitement. You guys and your friends haven’t had a night out in too long. You are going to get tipsy, gossip with your best friend, and slutty dance with your girlfriend before going home to, hopefully, have the best sex and best sleep of your life.

“Baby, watch my purse?” you ask Ellie so you can meet Dina at the door. She nods with a small smile on her face at your excitement.

You practically skip your way across the bar to Dina who was looking for you but now has spotted your thrilled figure.

“Din’s!” you grip her upper arms and begin to jump up and down. She joins in your excitement, the two of you now a jumping laughing mess.

Jessie has already left and made his way to the booth. You look to see your partners deep in a conversation, about what you have no idea.

You and Dina make your way to the bar where you both order beers and make your way back to the table.

Your respective partners look up at you, “Hey Dina,” Ellie greets your best friend for the first time tonight.

Dina perches on Jessie’s lap greeting your girlfriend back. You sit next to Ellie leaning into her side as she slips her arm around your shoulders.

The conversation Ellie and Jessie were having before continues. Something about cars, honestly you have no idea. You tune them out, the feeling of your girlfriend’s frame surrounding you and the warm alcohol settling in your chest leads to a tipsy state of contentment.

After some time you turn to Dina, “Let’s dance,” you stand pulling Dina with you. You two spin around the dance floor for some time. Beads of sweat drip down your spine, your cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

Suddenly you feel hands on your hips. Usually, this would alarm you but you would know those guitar calloused fingertips digging into the flesh of your waist anywhere.

You spin in her grip and Ellie gives you a small smile, “Hey baby, dance with me?”

You nod too out of breath, not from the dancing but the sheer presence of this woman, to verbally answer. You both begin to sway to the slow intimate music, your hands around her knock, hers around your waist.

You lean your forehead to the curve between her neck and shoulder breathing in the comforting scent of her.

You stay like that for some time before your head jerks upright. You look at Ellie with alarm, “Where’s my purse?” Usually, you would be better at keeping track of it but after a night of drinking and dancing with the love of your life, your mind is in a much dirtier place.

Ellie just smiles and lifts her hand from your waist tapping her shoulder. You realize there is a thin leather strap dangling off her arm—the leather strap of your purse.

“Oh, thanks. I can take it now though,” you motion for her to give you the bag.

“Don’t worry about it,” she shrugs it off not minding to keep track of your belongings for the night. You smile. This woman ugh!

You nod before leaning into her ear and whispering, “I appreciate that baby but I think you should give me the purse so you can drive us home, like now.”

You lean back to see a small blush form on Ellie’s cheeks as her eyebrows raise in question. You just nod your head confirming what she needs to know.

“Yo Jess,” Ellie grabs Jessie’s attention who is a few feet away swaying with a definitely tipsy Dina in his arms. He looks up, “Yeah?” “We’re heading out see y’all later,” Ellie already has your hand and is pulling you to the door. You let out a lazy giggle, loving when she gets determined like this.

You hear Jessie’s chuckle from behind you, “You two kids have fun,” You giggle again, “Oh we will,” Ellie blushes once more.

What did we think? Pls send me any writing prompts(I'll do smut but I prefer to write cute fluff like this) I'm running out of writing ideas but I want to keep writing soooo bad!

#ellie williams #tlou #tlou2 #ao3 #fanfiction #ellie x reader #drinking #tipsy #not beta read #idk #ramblings #the idea was rattling around in my brain so here you go #dina tlou #jessie tlou #joel mentioned #bar #dancing #ellie williams fluff

[honey-flustered]

Cruel Little Vixen 1

Rockstar!Perv!Eddie Munson x Journalist!Reader

Enemies to Friends to Lovers (18+MDNI)

Summary: Lacking in magazine sales, your boss assigns you to follow the life of Lead Singer/Guitarist of Corroded Coffin ‘Francis The Freak’ a.k.a. Eddie Munson for a month to write an article that could potentially save the magazine. Eddie Munson wanted fame but didn’t know the consequences of this include pretending to be someone he’s not. When rumors begin to float around causing some notoriety for his reputation, his manager agrees to an exposé of his life to make him seem nicer to a broader audience much to Eddie’s chagrin. Now the two of you are set to make your time together a living hell.

A/N: So my side blog Usetheeauthor has been shadowbanned for about 3 days now. I’m currently working on getting that undone but until then will be posting some of my work here. This is a new story. It’s 8 parts maybe. It was meant to be a one shot smut but I love writing series so here we go!

>>>>>Series Masterlist Part 1 of 8

Series Music Playlist

Word Count: 5.0k+

Warnings: graphic language, violence, sexual content, sexual tension, misogyny, gross!eddie, perv!eddie, mean!eddie, mean!reader

It’s Friday night and the air is thick. Bodies pressed up against bodies yet it to each fan present it was all worth it. The crowd roars as the members of the band Corroded Coffin walk onto the stage. There was Drummer Jessie Blue, Bass Guitarist Mel Tomas, Background Vocals/Pianist Judas Argo, and finally…Lead Guitarist/Lead Vocals Francis The Freak, the man you once knew as Eddie Munson.

When he got famous, he changed more than just his name. He was an entirely different guy from who you knew back in high school. You never knew him much. Hardly crossed paths but he was actually quite polite the few encounters you’ve had. Now you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time you see him on TV. He’s an absolute douchebag yet his fans eat it up. Trying to see the appeal would be considered beyond your comprehension.

Tonight was the night you’d put your disdain for him aside. You needed to remain professional if you were going to get through this article about ‘Francis The Freak’. Your job had assigned you the mission to spend an entire month with the rockstar gaining insight on his personal life as a means of bringing up sales for the magazine company. You hesitantly accepted the mission. Although you knew this could be your big break, you couldn’t possibly see yourself enjoying this time knowing the kind of person Eddie was now. Nonetheless, you took the challenge, attending the concert as your first assignment in diving into the life of the rockstar.

Your intentions for the article was to write the truth regardless of the ugliness of it. However, the group’s manager believed you’d write anything that would make Eddie Munson look good. As ‘Francis The Freak’, Eddie had a bad reputation because of his bad boy persona. He was rude, loud, messy, violent…pretty much everything people should hate but the crowd loved it. The backlash really came from the parents of his younger fans who feared the 80s rockstar dabbled in satanic worship. This obviously affected some album sales. So in hopes of showing his humane side, the manager agreed to the exposé. It’s a quid pro quo kind of situation. They get the album sales, your company gets more magazine sales.

The metal band begins to play it’s first song, “Cruel Little Vixen” and the crowd immediately goes wild.

“Stay away from her, She’s a disaster. Rips your heart out then eats it for supper. She has no fucking desire to fit in. Watch for her fangs, She’s a cruel little vixen.”

Even if you weren’t a fan of their music, you could admit that the songs were really catchy and you’d even found yourself swaying to the rhythm. It’s captivating witnessing someone from your high school being incredibly famous. Here you were looking up at a man you once saw stood himself on top of the lunch table and make an impromptu speech about denouncing popularity. You’d always got the feeling he’d become famous. After all, he is super talented, charismatic….really good looking.

You felt like a fish out of water. You’d never been to a metal concert before and there were things that made you question whether some things were a regular occurrence. Like when the girls would beg for Eddie Munson to spit on them or the men who’d pour beers on their heads as proof of their devotion.

By the end of show, you were left both befuddled but entertained. It was quite a show and slowly you understood the hype.

Once Corroded Coffin thanked their fans, they headed off stage to their dressing quarters. This was your move now. You flashed your backstage pass to the security guards strutting your way to the dressing rooms when you noticed a line of fans waiting to meet their idols.

Scanning the area, you spotted the manager of the group trying to control the screaming fans. You walked up the man, clearing your throat. His eyes land on you, confused.

“Look, Toots, I already let these girls know that the band’s not ready to meet anyone right now. If want to see ‘em you’ve gotta wait til ya get the say so. Alright?”

“Okay. No. It’s Y/N. Not ‘Toots’. Mr. Neds, I’m from Tone Magazine. We spoke over the phone about 3 hours ago. I’m here to interview Mr. Francis.”

His face loses color and mouth goes agape, realizing his mistake. “Um, erm, I-I apologize, Ms….”

“Y/L/N,” You answered, trying not to roll your eyes. He pretended as if he didn’t remember your name. You were one of the biggest writers out there and he dared to play this act all because you were a women when he desired a male interviewer. The desire for an male interviewer solely based on the idea that you’d only fall for his charms, fuck him, and forget all about the article. It’s sexist and tasteless accusation to say the least. “Am I allowed to go in now?”

“He’s a little busy.” Mr. Neds chuckles nervously.

“I can deal with bratty rockstar behavior, Mr. Neds. I’ve got nothing to fear.” You brushed past him, walking into the dressing room only for your eyes to land on a fully clothed Eddie Munson pounding away inside a fully naked groupie girl seated spread eagle in his dressing room chair. You let out a loud gasp causing them to look in your direction. Quickly, you shut the door.

“Umm, so he was definitely ‘busy’.” You say, a tinge of embarrassment creeping up on your face.

“One second.” The manager says putting up his index finger then rushes inside. You put an ear to the door, you can hear muffled yelling. Then, the door swings open and it’s the groupie girl who’s now disheveled and angry, shooting you a look before walking away.

Mr. Neds exits the room, letting out a big breath. “So, that’s cleared.”

“O-okay, I guess I’ll go—”

“Wait,” He halts you in your tracks. “There are several things you need to know about interviewing Francis.”

“Okay.”

“So far we’ve gone through 3 interviewers before you. Francis isn’t easy to interview. In fact, he hates them so he does things to ruin them. First interviewer was a woman. Fucked him and wrote a revenge hate article about him when he avoided her calls. At least if it were a man, they wouldn’t write fake crap because they’re pissed at Francis avoiding them, too. So I hope you understand, I still have my biases about you being female.”

“A bit discriminatory since men would definitely write lies as well but go on.”

“So, first don’t fall for his flirting. Second, he’ll try to flip the interview on you. He’ll ask you questions and you’ll completely forget the task at hand. Like the second interviewer we worked with, Eddie started asking him questions, guy realizes he never wanted to be a writer and was only trying to appease his mother, never wrote the article. Lastly, Francis may not speak at all. Or he’d just give you a hard time, circling around or giving vague answers. Ended up driving the last interviewer to the brink of insanity trying to get a word out of him. Made that guy also quit the field altogether.”

“Pardon my french but he sounds like a pain in the ass.” You admitted.

“A pain in my brain to be more exact. I literally take medication to ease the amount of migraines I get dealing with these boys. But their my boys at the end of the day.”

You nod although you just couldn’t agree with someone deteriorating their health for the raising of 4 grown bratty rockstars.

“Simply remain unwavering but polite maybe slightly kiss-assery.” He continues to advise.

“I think I go it.”

“Good. Then by all means, you are free to go.” He makes a slightly bow, gesturing you to the door.

“Nice! Thank you.”

“Hey, how does she get to go inside?” One awaiting fan asks.

“Yeah?” Another chimes in.

You walked in the room, choosing to let the manager deal with that on his own. When you entered, you were given a moment to look around the room. Eddie’s bandmates were in the room the whole time in the back playing video games unfazed by his previous tryst.

You shook your head in disgust until your eyes landed on Eddie. He’s sitting on top of the vanity table, lightbulbs around the mirror shining behind him like he was a divine being. He was even more gorgeous up close. His beautiful dark curls cascading a little passed his shoulders, soft red lips, body filled with tattoos, beautiful chest sweaty with the exertion of tonight’s show, his happy trailing leading down to his leather pants constricting over his large…(gasp) He’s watching you! You immediately snapped out of your trance faking a smile.

“Mr. Francis! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You held out your hand. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N from Tone Magazine. I’m a huge fan of your band.”

He looks down at your outstretched hand then back at your face, refusing to shake it. You awkwardly lower your hand.

“Huge fan, huh? You didn’t look like you were based off your reactions during the show.”

“Y-you seen me in the crowd.”

“You were about a couple feet away from front row. It’s kinda hard to miss.” He flicks at his lighter, lighting the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Right.” You nod. Obviously there were so many fans within the crowd. You still felt surprised that out of all the faces in the sea of people that he’d looked at and remembered yours.

He gestures you to have a seat. The seat where he’d recently plowed someone in.

“No thanks.” You declined.

He smirks. “Why?”

He finds this amusing!

“I’m just more comfortable standing.”

He shrugs, taking another drag his cigarette.

“S-so, could you tell me a little about your upbringing, Mr. Francis?” You pull out your little journal and pen from your jean’s pocket, anticipating his answer.

“You can call me Eddie. I’m not on stage.”

“Of course.” You nod still awaiting his answer.

He just stares back at you, smoking. He’s giving you the silent treatment. It’s cute that he thinks that that’ll work on you.

“I’m fine standing here in silence, by the way,” You say, dropping your fan persona. “Your body language will only reveal to me what you wish not to speak.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a glint of interest in his eyes.

“Mhmm,” You confirmed. “Like the way you’re manspreading right now. It indicates to me that you wish to assert your dominance over me. I’m not intimidated though. I work mostly around men. Deal with that shit practically everyday. And this relaxed ‘i don’t give a fuck’ attitude is all act. I think you care a lot. You want this interview as badly as your manager does because you want people to love you again.”

“That all you got?”

“You’re 21, a huge metalhead in high school, liked D’n’D, and you’re a huge dork.”

He snorts then chuckles. “Anyone could get that information. In Hey Hello Magazine’s interview, I expressed some of these aspects of my childhood.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t voluntarily read Hey Hello Magazine. Besides, I’m just that good.” You lied obviously you went to school with him so you’d know these things but he didn’t remember you so you’ll use this to your advantage.

He hops off the vanity dresser, sauntering over to you. His combat boots hitting against the floors loud enough for you to tune out the noise of the members hooting and hollering in the background from their video game fun.

When he’s finally in front of you, he towering over you. You never remembered him to be so tall. You look up at him holding his gaze so he knew that you weren’t fazed.

“Now tell me what I’m thinking right now?” He says face only inches from yours.

“I can tell you what I’m thinking. I think you should step away from me or else I’ll be forced to defend myself. You reek of sex and sweat.”

His face is blank at first. You worried you went to far with your assertiveness but then he smiles down at you. He finds you a lot more entertaining than moments ago.

“Ya know what I’m in the mood to meet some fans. Boys! How ya feeling? Should we get out there?” Eddie calls out to his bandmates.

“Yeah, why the hell not?” Mel Tomas speaks up ending the game. The remaining boys quickly follow heading over to the front of the room.

“Wait! What about the interview?” You say while trying to hold your composure.

“We’ll get to that…eventually.” Eddie winks.

—————

Eventually was as close to never than it was to soon. Eddie purposefully took time with each fan going over the allowed time per fan. Every now and then, he’d look at you behind him, shooting you a teasing smirk. He knew you had little time on your hands with him today. This was his little game. What he didn’t know was that you were willing to be player two. For now, you’ll be patient. You’ll be good. Slowly, you could break him the way he thinks he’ll break you.

Once the signings were completed, the boys headed back to the dressing rooms to gather their things for departure. The other boys were a lot more kinder to you even asking you questions about being the only girl working as a writer for Tone Magazine.

The entire band was attractive. Attractive enough that it made you feel a little insecure. You weren’t ugly, quite the opposite actually, but you’d always worn things that people would deem you as a plain jane or basic. You didn’t stand out much because you were comfortable in the background. That’s the way you liked things. As a writer that’s how it worked, you let your words speak for you not your appearance. So it wasn’t surprising that neither of the men tried to hit on you although you couldn’t say it didn’t get to you with the way they’d flirted with the other girls.

“So how’s the first day?” Eddie asks you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Terrible actually. I picked up no significant information out of you. If you would’ve only cooperated, I would’ve gotten what I needed for today and you’d still get to meet and greet your fans without me moping in the background.”

“Except I wanted you to suffer. I like seeing you mad at me, kitten.”

“Don’t call me that. I already had to chastise your manager for calling me ‘Toots’. I’m not your pet so don’t give me a pet name. My name is Y/N.”

“What’s your deal, anyway? Laugh a little. You’re so fucking uptight that if I were to stick a lump of coal in you, it’d come out a diamond.”

You can feel yourself begin to burn with rage. “That is a complete misconception. Coal cannot turn into diamond!”

“Way to get ‘em there, Y/N.” You thought, sarcastically.

“And I’m not uptight,” You continued, your back pressed against the dressing room door and journal clutched to your chest. “You have been rude, crass, and extremely obnoxious. You know what, I think I’ve gotten all that I needed for Day 1’s article actually. So, I thank you in a way for giving me exactly what I’ve been looking for. I can already see the headline now: Francis The Freak is a narcissistic—”

His hands slam hard against the door, resting them on either side of your head. You jolt at the sudden action, rendered speechless. He’s staring down at you the way a predator stares down at its prey but then he gives you his famous toothy smile.

“I look forward to reading it…kitten.” He whispers, saying the pet name in broken syllables for emphasis.

You stare up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Mustering up the little courage you have, you pry one hand from around you, searching around for the door knob while your eyes remained lock to his.

He looks down between you before removing himself slowly from you, his expression still littered with amusement. You managed to open the door, glaring at him one last time then walked out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

—————

“And then he called me uptight and invaded my personal space. The guy’s such a fucking asshole.” You were currently having a bottle of red wine and venting with your best friend and roommate Chrissy Cunningham.

“I know but he’s sooo hot. Ya know, he once had a huge crush on me back in high school.”

“You only ever bring it up nearly every time you see him on television.”

She chucks popcorn at you, giggling. “Shut up! I only bring it up all the time because I was so close to fucking him. When Jason and I broke up, I was more than ready to give in. I chickened out last minute because silly me had feelings for Jason. I regret it. But he did end up eating me out and I swear to you I met God that day. He didn’t even ask for anything in return just enjoyed making me cum. They don’t call him ‘freak’ for nothing.”

You and Chrissy also went to the same high school along with Eddie. You weren’t friends with her either since she was the popular cheerleader and you were more of an in-betweener. She was always very sweet so you never had any ill comments about her. When you’d both gone to college, your friendship formed there and the two of you became inseparable.

“I could’ve went on happily without knowing this,” You laughed. “I already had my pure eyes tainted by him penetrating some random girl before me.”

“That’s just the life of a rockstar, baby.” Chrissy shrugs.

“It’s exactly why I could never date a musician.”

“Yeah, same. Unless you can give me his digits.” She says sticking her tongue playfully.

“I love you too much to put you through that. Trust me, you don’t want to deal with him.”

“I’m sure they all can’t be bad. What about Jessie the drummer?”

“Oh, he’s the sweetest. Very polite. Complete opposite of Eddie. Actually had a great convo with him. Wish I were interviewing him instead but he’s not the one in need of clean slate.”

“And Mel the guitarist?”

“He’s intelligent but super condescending at times. Doesn’t mean to be, though. He’s like the philosopher of the group.”

“Judas the Pianist?”

“British.”

“British isn’t a personality trait.” She laughs.

“It might as well be. But I guess I can say he’s shy but also really funny when he gets going. The artistic one.”

“So then what does that make Francis The Freak?”

“The bad boy minus the sensitive side. Total douchebag.”

“I just can’t see that with Eddie. He was an absolute sweetheart when I knew him.”

“Fame changes you. Honestly, he’d still treat you a lot more nicer than he would me. You’re what he’s expected to interview him so he can gawk and stare at.”

“Oh, come on. You’re so pretty. If I were into girls, you’d be my type.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re only saying that because your my friend.”

She cups your face lifting your head to face her. “No. I mean it. And you should give him a chance. It was only the first day. You’ve got 30 more to go. Who knows maybe you’ll be a huge Francis The Freak fan at the end of it?”

You pull away from her embrace. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

—————

The next day, you were given a call from your boss who didn’t seem pleased by the first article you’d written. You’d think he’d be happy with this kind of story since it would make up for the juicy content needed to boost sales.

“You could’ve at least ran it by me before you decided to publish it.” He yells into the phone.

“I’m truly sorry, Mr. Bauman. But this is my experience unfiltered. Even if you were to intervene, I’d write the same thing. The people need to know. If anything, I wasn’t nearly as a harsh as I’ve should of been.”

He sighs. “What will I do with you?”

“Maybe give me a promotion?”

“Nice try but no. You hadn’t proven to me that you’re ready for that. I believe in you. I do, Y/N. Obviously, I’m an advocate for women in male dominated work spaces but...”

You rolled your eyes, knowing where this will lead. It was always advocacy for women but you’d always receive the short-end compared to your male counterparts.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

“So, I’m just an emotionally fueled woman is, that it?”

“Not what I said.”

“You actually did maybe not explicitly but it’s very apparent.”

“I’m only giving you advice. Boys will be boys. They’re young rockstars who are used to being hounded by interviewers. He’s obviously not taking it seriously because he’s over it but if you befriend him first then maybe he’ll get to talking.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “I guess I’ll be…nicer.”

“Good. Now I’ll need you to drive to this address today. 3638 Birch Street. It’s Francis’s home. You’ll be spending day 2 with him all day.”

“All day?!”

“That’s what I said. Good luck and be nice.” He quickly hangs up the phone just as you were about to protest.

You huffed. This is going to be torturous.

—————

You arrived at the home which although large was surprisingly humble for his status. Ringing the doorbell, you awaited patiently for someone to answer the door.

The door opens revealing Eddie in only a robe, his hair messy. You were surprised to see that he’d answered and not his staff. His smile quickly drops.

“Oh, it’s you.” He groans in a disappointed tone. “I was hoping it was the pizza guy.” He turns around then turns to look at you again. “Unless you have pizza.”

“No!”

He rolls his eyes and mutters, “Come in.”

“Thanks for the warm welcome.” You say sarcastically, following him in.

You looked around. There was no staff whatsoever. No guards, or maids, or butlers. Simply just Eddie. It was actually refreshing seeing someone who’s clearly so rich not care for those things.

“Did you read my article, by the way?” You say, smiling smugly.

“Yes, I did.”

“I hope you learned your—”

“I love it.” He simply states causing you to have a full stop moment.

“You love it?” You asked incredulously.

He nods. “That part where you said ‘I attempted to see his point of view in life but then I realize I couldn’t get my head that far up my ass.’ It was actually pretty clever.”

“Why aren’t you pissed off?”

He leans across the island table between you two. He’s the one that’s smug now, knowing that he’s won this round. “I think it was witty, funny, somewhat true. Except you forgot one thing.”

“What’s that?” You crossed your arms.

“That I made you blush. You felt things that you probably hadn’t felt in a long time. Possibly never.”

You stutter and stammered. “I-I’ll have you know that it wasn’t that I was blushing. I was just embarrassed by the situation entirely. I may have shown my bitchiness a bit too soon and now it’s causing this rift between us when I only meant to befriend you.”

“You were?” His eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Well, yeah. But now I’m not so sure I’d like to be friends.”

“Hey, I think we can definitely be friends. I’m willing to bury the hatchet. After all, your article did help boost my popularity a little.”

“How on earth?”

“People find the situation hilarious. Now I’m seen as some funny yet eccentric troublemaker,” He puts a hand to his chest, sporting a fake sincere look. “I’ve gotta thank you for the boost, friend.”

You seethed.

Eddie - 2, Y/N - 0

“I’m gonna go for a swim.” He says walking around the island counter.

“What about the interview?”

“Geez, you’re like a broken record. If you wish to get to know me, why not try to make it subtle and fun? You can always take a swim with me, too.”

You thought back to the advice your boss told you. You were approaching this the wrong way after all. Befriending him was your best bet.

“You can go for a swim but I’m not going in with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Just go in your underwear.”

“Oh, hardy har har but no. This is meant to be strictly professional.”

Eddie stands in front of you. You shoot him a look of confusion only to morph to shock when you notice him untying the robe.

“No.” You turn your face away the very second he throws it open.

“Relax. It’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“I immediately excused myself when I walked in. Didn’t even allow myself the chance to linger for a second. I do not wish to see your dick now.”

“And you won’t. I’m wearing swim trunks underneath,” He puts a black polished finger under your chin, turning you to face him once again then tugs at your chin to look down. He was, in fact, wearing swim trunks but god his body this close looks so appetizing now that he’s wearing even less. “See. I wouldn’t intentionally flash you. It’s not what friends do.”

“Then why’d you trick me like that?”

“Because I like seeing you mad, remember?” He lets go of your chin and heads out to the backyard.

“Friends don’t like making their friends mad!” You called out after him.

————

You were currently sat at the poolside, journal in hand while Eddie swam away answering questions with less resistance.

“This is a pretty big house. Must get lonely being all by yourself.”

“I don’t live alone.”

“Who is she?”

“He’s my uncle. Took care of me most of my life while my mother was in and out of my life and my dad in and out of prison.”

“Oh,” You felt terrible for assuming. “Your uncle seems like a very strong person. I’m glad he took the tole of being your guardian.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely strong. I’d do everything I could to pay him back for all the times he’s cared for me. I wasn’t an easy kid but he stuck it out when my parents couldn’t.”

“Seems like you’re providing him just that kind of appreciation.”

“I guess. But I could do more. I want to make sure he never has to worry about anything ever.”

Today was genuinely surprising for you. Chrissy was right. Maybe he’s still a sweetheart.

You look up from writing, noticing things had gone quiet. Eddie was nowhere to be found. The moment you thought to peer over to look in the water, Eddie springs out of the water right front of you causing you to throw the notebook into the pool.

“Eddie! You dick!”

“You can just write it again.”

“I had really good things to say. Now I’ll completely forget them.”

“It’s at the bottom of the pool. You wanna go get it?”

“What do you mean if I want to go get it?” He gives you a mischievous look, his hands resting on your thighs. Your eyes widened. “No, Eddie. No.”

It was too late. Eddie yanks you down into the pool and you go underwater. You’re frightened. You couldn’t swim so all you could do was hold onto him for dear life.

You both come up for air, your arms and legs are wrapped around him tightly. He’s laughing but you were trembling like a wet chihuahua. Then, he notices the fear in your eyes and he grows concerned.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Can’t swim. I’m scared.” You were in the deeper side of the pool your biggest fear.

He rubs your back to comfort you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I always assume everyone can swim. That was really crappy of me. Let’s get you out of here.”

His hands cup under your butt, lifting you back up onto the poolside. Then, he pulls himself up. Your knees were to your chest, still trembling.

Eddie felt terrible. He was only having harmless fun. He didn’t mean to scare you this badly. Taking a towel, he wraps it around your body then rubs his hands over your arms.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, eyes pleading for you to answer.

“Um, it’s okay,” You finally say. “I should tell you. I have a fear of swimming pools. It’s a stupid phobia. I know but it’s because of a traumatic experience I had in my childhood.”

“Like you nearly drowned?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” He says once again.

“You already said that.” You laughed.

“I know. I just feel like shit.”

“That’s a first,” You remove the towel from your body. “Maybe I should go home. I could get some new clothes and be right back.”

“Or I can hand you some clothes while yours are put in the dryer.”

“It would save me a trip.” You shrugged.

You noticed Eddie stare before his eyes quickly avert. And was he…blushing?

You looked down at your white top. It’d gotten wet and your nipples were erect and visible even through your black lace bra. You shot one arm over your while the other lightly shoves him.

“You perv! You wanted this to happen.”

“No, I swear.”

“Oh, right.”

“Have I been dishonest with you?”

“Plenty.”

“Name one time.”

So much for having a friendly moment, the two of you bickered back and forth well up until the pizza arrived. While he munch away at his slice, you watched him from the corner of your eye admiring his ranges of emotions. He was more than just an angsty ball of horniness. He can be a decent guy when he’s more comfortable with you. It was nice to see him so concerned for your well-being but what really made you feel a little giddy inside was the fact that you managed to make him blush, too.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things fandom #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie #perv!eddie #eddie munson x reader smut #mean!eddie munson #stranger things season four #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things volume 2 #smutty fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfiction #fanfiction

[the-moth-from-elsewhere]

The Epic Amazing Absolutely Insane TAOCC Song Post

Aka: Elsie assigns random songs to random characters for random reasons, vaguely organized by mod. These are almost entirely vibes and randomness so get ready to be utterly confused. Don’t expect any of these to fit too well, I went more based on the sound and random stuff than the actual accuracy. Also i’m kinda brain-broken from overthinking all this music lol. No, I didn’t add links, just because this took so many hours. Maybe tomorrow, I just wanna get this done.

Feiar’s characters.

Nymn

“Dento takes the Stairs” by Gooseworx

I told you these would make no sense. Idk the amount of nymn just being vibes/silly/lighthearted makes me think of how this song is a break from the chaos of the Elain series.

Jessy

“Metamodernity” by Vansire

Okay, I have a really specific animatic in my head for this song in which we flash between the TAOCC characters as they are in the circus, and then a cool transition, and then it’s them pre-circus. My best example is Dusk and Jessy sitting on a bench. A train passes by, and now it’s human Jessy sitting alone on a bench. Because Dusk is AI. And that very specific part of the animatic in my head tends to stick with me, especially seeing as Jessy is very “just go with stuff” and so I can kinda hear him singing this in my head.

”Apocalypse Now” by PinnoccioP

The first appearance of many of my favorite music artist lol. The song is about enjoying existence even if everything is a violent wreck, and it just kinda fits to me lol.

“World’s Smallest Violin” - AJR

yeah just gonna drop this one here and run

“Sweet Tooth” - Scott Helman

Blame Fei.

Clara

”Drosselmeyer’s theme - Kurumi Wari Ningyo (Nutcracker No. 2 March) - The Princess Tutu Soundtrack

Okay, for starters, you should watch Princess Tutu. Like right now. It’s amazing, and the title does NOT do it Justice. Back on track, it…it’s the nutcracker! Come on, this one was basically handed to me.

Tutu vs Kraehe (Swan Lake Act 1 Op. 20 No. 2)

Fight theme.

Lance

”I Don’t Have a Name For It” - Steam Powered Giraffe

I…I’m sorry I don’t have an explanation for this it just works. Lancia sweep.

Raina

”Nightcall” - Kavinsky

…Once again, very flimsy. But like…switch the gender. I’m sorry but it’s giving “they’re talking about my death but I’m still here.” The miku version works better here in my opinion :3

The pirates

“He’s a pirate” - F-777

“The 7 Seas” - F-777

idk man techno piracy go vrrrrrrrr I unironically blasted these during like the entirety of the pirates plotline frick you this is my rant I do what I want /silly

Star’s Characters

Icia

”Long Live” - Taylor Swift

I swear I have reasons for this just hear me out okay- First off, I can see the voice fitting, second off, I imagine her singing this either for Lance or Starro or both after we finally finally finally throw Hexe off a cliff.

“Santa Salvacion” - Magia Record OST

epic fight theme for fighting the terrifying ice lady. I blasted this while writing the fight scene with The Dark Queen Icia.

Dunite

”Postmeridae” - Madoka Magica OST

Cutesy upbeat theme for making merengues to. No notes.

“Witches Dance” - Magia Record OST

Idk, feels like her fight theme

”Roki” - Mikito P

…Vibes. Entirely vibes. Dunite should start a band /hj.

Starro

“Please Never Fall In Love Again” - Ollie MN

I just…him. Singing this. About Conny. I swear to cheese.

Vaga and Nova

“Class Dance - Rensho Kyoku I” - Princess Tutu OST

…Vibes.

Odette

”Vocalise Op. 34 No. 14” - Madoka Magica OST

Vibes. Piano. Sad string accompaniment. Must I say more?

Achilles

“Doubt #2” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Starting to notice a pattern with the kingdom characters lol?

Joofie’s Characters

Cardlan

“Main Character” - Will Wood

Ego. So, so much Ego.

“Sayo-Nara” - DDLC OST

I have my reasons.

Minimi

“Not Yet (Epilogue)” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

Accordion and a little bit of ominousness. Vibes.

Xeyshattersiltav1a’s Characters

Sun

“Cowboy Dan” - Modest Mouse

Yee-haw sun. Do not give that woman a truck. Wow, these descriptions are getting terrible lol.

”Popular” - Wicked Soundtrack

Wicked but it’s sun and Dusk lives in my head rent free okay

“Alright” - Mother Mother

please help me I keep making up sun animatics with this song in class

Mix

“Something, Everything is Wrong” - Madoka Magica: Rebellion OST

This song is the reason I associate Mix with the accordion. Also, I imagine Dusk meeting him/his first real introduction in TAOCC’s background music as this song.

“Intertwined” - CMYK, CircusP.

Rip this man’s love life

“Love is War” - Ryo/Supercell feat. Hatsune Miku

Love is still Vehicular Manslaughter /ref

Dialtone

“Cats!” - waterflame

Does the song fit him? Not at all! It is way too techy and upbeat, and would probably better suit someone like Switch. But like….cats. He’d listen to a song called “cats!”. You can’t convince me otherwise.

“Want You Gone” - The Portal OST

Dialtone is GLaDOS coded to me.

“Killer Spider” - PinnoccioP

vibes and vibes alone.

Soup’s Characters

Silhouette

“Scared of you” - Brandon Hesslau

“Whoops, sorry for kinda almost killing you.”

”What Gave It Away” - Riproducer

evil.

”Burial Ground” - Low Roar

sad backstory.mp3.

Clown

“I’m Number One” - Muppets Most Wanted Soundtrack

Look man he’s silly and egotistical and it’s funny. He’s definitely singing this with carbine.

Autumn’s Characters

Pyxel

”Magical Doctor” - MARETU

once again, more vibes than lyrics and the gender’s wrong but, like, the vibes, man

Neb

“Lonely UFO” - PinnoccioP

…it doesn’t fit. The lyrics, as far as I can tell, do NOT fit. BUT LOOK AT THE OUTFIT, THE BLUE HAIR AND VOID SKIN AND MURDER TEETH AND TELL ME THAT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE NEB, OKAY?!

“Finding Sanctuary” - Stellaris OST

Silly space song for silly space person.

Lily’s Characters

The bookend siblings, and I mean all of them as a group, Katrina included for brevity’s sake

“Magical Girl and Chocolate” - PinnoccioP

Okay, I have actual reasoning for this one. Each of the siblings is someone’s “magical girl”, whether metaphorically or literally. They’re each fighting to protect and support someone. And they each strain and struggle to cope with a role too demanding for them. This song works for each of them in a different form and context.

Octavia and Steven/Sign

“Isn’t it “A”” - PinnoccioP

The arguments of all time

Honse- I mean Sophro

“Puzzle” - CMYK, CircusP

He’s just here to help. No notes.

Miscellaneous Others/Not big enough for their own section

Lantern

“Lantern” - Undertale OST

…self explanatory. The song’s vibes fit, too, I imagine this plays in his scenes.

“The Other One Left” - VaneLily

Half due to the “I just want a loving father” line. Gender’s wrong, again, but otherwise the lyrics fit.

Seer

“Seer’s Theme” - Cindy

I literally cannot outdo her own theme. It’s just too good. I listen to it randomly just because I like it so much /gen.

Sigil

“I’m Just Ken” - Barbie Movie Soundtrack

this is mostly a joke but come ON you think that guy doesn’t feel a little overshadowed by his GODDESS FIANCÉE?!

“Business Man” - Tom Cardy

Okay so this one takes some explaining because I imagine sigil walking into Dialtone’s place to spy and Insanity ruining everything and shooting everyone. It makes absolutely no sense but it’s funny in my head so here we are.

My Characters, yes this is gonna be last

Dusk

“Ultimate Senpai” - PinocchioP

A song about being overly pressured and stuff? Yeaaaaah.

“Sis Puella Magia!” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

….Pretty. That’s it.

Aoki

“Decretum” - Madoka Magica Soundtrack

The reason I gave him a violin.

Alpenglow

“Yume Yume” - DECO*27

I have an ENTIRE ANIMATIC for chip and alpen with this song in my head

Lemonade

“Viva La Vida” - Coldplay

lore. Hehe.

Yume

“What are Children Made Of?” - PinnoccioP

This kid’s childhood has been ruined and boy is processing that hard.

”Everything about Animals” - PinocchioP

an absolute fever dream of a song that she would absolutely sing about animals. And how cool they are. And ohhhh look commentary on the state of humanity

Switchboard

“Kom Susser Tod” - Astrophysics

Idk it doesn’t fit all too well but the mix of utter hopelessness and eurobeat techno is just hercore

TAOCC as a whole

“Something Rotten!/Make an Omelette” - Something Rotten Soundtrack

WHEN I TELL YOU I HAVE AN ENTIRE. FREAKING. ANIMATIC-

”Your Silver Garden” - Madoka Magica OST

I do not know the lyrics literally at all but I could see an OP for TAOCC with this song

#Taocc #i am terrified that people will criticize my choices here lol #Yes they make no sense I know that

[rustbeltjessie]

My girl, my girl, don’t you lie to me—

Where Did You Sleep Last Night (also known as “In the Pines,” “Black Girl / Black Gal,” and “My Girl”) is a bit of a confusing one. Is it a murder ballad, or a death song? Someone in it is dead, and has died in a horrific way, but exactly who has died changes depending on the version you’re listening to, as does the way in which the victim died, and who is responsible for their death. And who is singing this song? The killer, someone that knows the killer, an omniscient third party? There are point-of-view shifts all over the place. My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me / tell me where did you sleep last night? That’s how the song begins. In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine, she replies, I shivered the whole night through. Most of the stanzas in the version I am referencing follow this formula, alternating between the person speaking to the ‘girl,’ and the girl’s responses. All save one, which starts: Her husband was a hard working man. In that one verse, the singer takes a different point of view entirely.

Some of these confusing aspects may stem from the fact that the song we now know as “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” is a mashup of two older ballads: “In the Pines” and “The Longest Train.” Some versions of the song reference the train explicitly, and state that the victim was decapitated by a train. In others, such as the one I’m most familiar with, the only reference to a train is that [his] head was found in a driving wheel. And in still others, the cause of death is reattributed and no reference to trains is made at all. Similarly, the person fleeing into the pines changes from version to version. In most, including this one, it is a woman, but why she is fleeing or what she is fleeing from is not made explicit. Is she fleeing her rapist? Is she a murderer, or the witness to a murder? Did she commit some other transgression that she is hiding from the repercussions of? Or are the pines simply a metaphor? My girl could be running from life and into death, or from chastity and into (her) sexuality.

I find that all these inconsistencies and mysteries only add to the song’s beauty and sadness. It’s easier to imagine yourself as the one in the pines when you can ascribe your own personal reasons for running—and your own personal places to run to—to the song’s protagonist, and that makes the song even more haunting. Speaking of: to my ear, Leadbelly’s 1944 recording is the most haunting take—his quavering voice, the scratchy blues guitar—though Nirvana’s 1993 MTV Unplugged version is also essential. Listen, and shiver the whole night through.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from “I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.” (Murder Ballads and Death Songs) (October 2021)

#jessie lynn mcmains #writing #music #murder ballads #where did you sleep last night #my writing #jessie writes about music #2021

[ashtrayfloors]

I took her by her lily white hand— “Banks of the Ohio”

Banks of the Ohio...does not seem to come directly from other, older ballads. Nor does it share the details of a specific true crime. Its origins are in late 19th or early 20th century Appalachia, and the first known recording of the song is from 1927, under the title ”I’ll Never Be Yours.” Nonetheless, it is a classic. It distills the murder ballad (particularly the murdered girl ballad) down to its essence. Girl and her beau go out walking, he asks for her hand in marriage, she refuses, he pushes her into the river, and she drowns. He walks home, feeling all sorry about killing the girl he loved, and the next day he’s arrested.

More traditional versions of “Banks of the Ohio”...can be interpreted as a warning to young women. A warning not to go out walking with a guy you don’t really know that well, lest he has ill intent. And this can be seen as another misogynistic double standard: why not write a song warning men not to kill their girlfriends? We have to consider two things when asking that question. One is that the song would have read very differently to folks in the late 19th and early 20th centuries than it does to us, now. It is of its time, for certain. But the other thing to consider, to ask ourselves, is: have things really changed so much? Most women (and non-binary people) I know have had more than one experience where we feared we might end up much the same way as the poor girl in this ballad. A boyfriend threatening you with fatal violence should you decide to leave him; a near (or complete) stranger becoming furious because you rejected his advances…these things are still all too common. As Kelly Robinson writes in “Where the Wild Roses Grow: The Strange Allure of Murder Ballads:” Change a few details, update the names, and these ballads could be stories from our own local papers, or even our own diaries. The other thing which hasn’t changed much in the past century is the abundance of misogynistic double standards when it comes to the blame placed on the would-be (female) victim versus the would-be (male) perpetrator. We, as a society, still spend an awful lot of time telling girls not to wear certain clothes, drink certain things, or go to certain places lest they encounter a rapist or murderer, and a lot less time teaching boys that they’re not entitled to any girl’s body or time, and that they shouldn’t be, y’know, murdery rapists.

The other reason I wanted to include “Banks of the Ohio” is that it features a death-by-drowning, which is a very common feature in murder ballads. There are countless murder ballads where the victim is either drowned, or is killed and then thrown into a body of water. Often it is a river, and often the victim is female. (“Ain’t Going Down to the River,” by bluegrass singer and musician Missy Armstrong, is a tongue-in-cheek take on this theme.) Why drowning, in particular? writes J. Roberta Coffelt in “She Too Much of Water Hast: Drownings and Near-Drownings in Twentieth Century North American Literature by Women.” There are several reasons, she says. One being: …the symbolic connection between female sexuality and water. Another: …is romantic: drowning is often thought of as an “easy death.” Coffelt adds: Of course, actual drowning victims are anything but beautiful, but that didn’t stop balladeers, writers, and artists throughout history from romanticizing the beautiful drowned girl. Think of Shakespeare’s Ophelia; think of paintings of Ophelia such as [the] one by John Everett Millais—she is beautiful, floating on her back in the water, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips parted. Is she dead, or experiencing sexual ecstasy? (Back to that link between female sexuality and water…)

Yes, the drowning victims in these stories and songs are often female, but I think it’s important to remember that is not always the case. Snakefarm does a spooky, jazzy version of “Banks of the Ohio” which removes all gendered pronouns, so the genders and sexual orientations of both the victim and the killer are left up to the listener’s imagination. Once, many years ago, I asked a guy I was dating at the time to walk with me down to the river, where I had a surprise for him. He, knowing my predilection for murder ballads and things of that nature, said: “Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m pretty sure there’s a Nick Cave song that starts that way, and if I recall correctly, it doesn’t end well.”

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from “I guess there’s just a meanness in this world” (Murder Ballads and Death Songs) [October 2021]

#jessie lynn mcmains #prose #nonfiction #music #murder ballads #banks of the ohio #my writing #jessie writes about music

[girlsneedff]

Impted

Chosou x reader

Slightly NSFW- sexual activities are only mentioned. Still, minors and ageless bios stay away from this pls!!

This is based off of the song Imported by Jessie Reyez and 6LACK. I was blasting that all while writing (and not studying for finals).

Oh, and I drew the pic…

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ *:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

He doesn’t know why he’s getting so sad over this. It happens all the time. The girl that he loves finds some guy at a party, then they head home together, leaving Chosou a wreck. He knows it’s not fair, and he should have moved on a long time ago, but he can’t.

It’s hard to move on from someone you love- especially when she’s telling him “I love you” back. But she doesn’t want to make it official- she knows that this man will literally walk on his hands and knees to appease her, and she acts like he’s just some guy. It aggravates him to high hell, but he’s still hopeful about her.

This night was no different. She came with Chosou, and she’s leaving with another man. He can see her chatting this guy up from across the room in the house party. She’s batting her lashes up at him, playing with her hair, letting him feel all up on her. Chosou’s seething- you can practically see the steam rising from his head. With every bass boosted beat of the music in the house his heart is being torn to shreds. But she’s made it pretty clear that the two of them aren’t together- at all. He’s beginning to realize that they never will be.

“You look pissed as hell.”

A voice from behind him says, as (presumably, the owner of said voice) snakes an arm across his shoulder, leaning over the back of the chair to talk to him.

He peels his eyes off of ‘his girl’ and gives his attention to the voice.

It’s you. Your hair’s done up- you’re wearing a tube dress with necklaces and other jewelry adorning you. Lipgloss is shining. You’re smirking at him. He’s never seen you before- ever.

He doesn’t respond to you. Instead, he just looks at you blankly, then back at the girl he came with, dancing with another man.

“You like her, huh? In love with your best friend?”

That annoys Chosou a little bit. They’re not best friends- they’re… they…. Fuck he doesn’t even know. He takes a sip of his alcohol, just trying not to send his mind into a spiral.

“I get it. Happens to the best of us.”

Chosou would really prefer if you left him alone to wallow in his own self pity, but it seems that you have no intention of doing that. You haphazardly rub his chest, trying to comfort him.

“Thank you for- thank you for coming to my party.” You slur, smiling warmly.

Great. A drunk hostess. Not that he also wasn’t tipsy- it’s just that he’s sitting down, and he’s focusing all of his sobriety on his love.

And this is your house. It must look so nice when it’s not full of a bunch of mid to late 20-year olds getting wasted as fuck and destroying the place.

“Thank you for having me…”

“Of courseeeee,”

He side eyes you, as you place your head in your other hand.

“You’re too cute to be here upset about a girl.”

You grab the back of his head, which startles him, a tinge of red dancing across his cheeks as you move his head to look around.

“Take aaaa look at all of the possibiliessss.”

You’re referencing all of the people in your home right now. He doesn’t doubt that there’s some beauties in your humble abode, but they’re not her.

When you let go he looks back up at you, rubbing the back of his head clumsily. Now he’s really looking at you. Before he was so focused on his girl that’s not his girl, but now that he’s really really looking at you-

You’re bad as fuck. Real bad. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or the fact that he’s been ignoring his heart skipping beats like it’s beatboxing ever since you came to pester him. He hasn’t felt this feeling for anyone but her in a long time.

You pick up on his staring, looking him up and down. Then you say, with a sly grin:

“Maybe I can offer some help…”

He stiffens, and it’s noticeable. You let out a small hum, seemingly happy with his reaction, running the hand wrapped around him along his chest.

“Come with me.”

You take said hand and grab his jaw, turning it towards his situationship.

“You really want to sit… and watch in agony?”

He gulps, feeling his heart squeeze even harder, watching this girl on the verge of kissing the random man of the night.

“Your eyes are so easy to read.”

He looks to his side, and sees you leaning over further, damn near falling onto the couch to look at his face.

“At least for now, I can help you forget.”

His face is burning up, and he’s feeling dizzy. Maybe it’s the drink? Or his situation? Or how close you are to his face?

“If you’re not down to fuck, that’s fine too. We can have fun other-“

“I want to fuck.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even process what he was saying with the little control he had.

You let out another hum in satisfaction with a grin.

“Shit- ok then.” You kiss his cheek sloppily, then stand back up behind the couch, waiting for him so you guys can go.

He stands up, looking at ‘his girl’ then back at you over his shoulder. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, looking at him. Obviously undressing him with your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek.

Your confidence and unabashed ogling is something he’s not used to.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but he likes it. Maybe it’s the punch you’ve brewed up for this party, but he’s starting to remember it’s nothing serious between him and ole girl. Perhaps it’s the drink, but he hopes you grip his hair just as roughly as you were doing before, whether he’s eating you out, or you’re riding.

You’re here- for the night, at least. It’s been so long since he’s had sex.

For once, his mind isn’t on her.

Maybe the best way for him to get her out of his head is to get inside of you- at least for the night.

#jjk #choso kamo #chosou #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x black!reader #unrequited love #black reader #choso x black y/n #jjk choso

[ecstasyhighway]

YOU & I | an ellie williams fanfic series

this is a fic that will be posted and mostly updated on wattpad @ecstasyhighway this ff is heavily based off of you the netflix show and inspired by a ff on here which i cannot remember who wrote it but if yk lmk so i can give proper credit.

there is not smut in this little part here but its a filthy ah fic that will become darker as it goes on.

MEN DNI - 16+ i fear (im 17 so if u feel uncomfortable reading from a minor who will be 18 at the end of the year then u dont have to read this i really dgaf.)

ch 1 ch 2

silly story and more ff info under the cut

Ellie had seen you walking around the music store she worked at... her attention automatically shifted from the customer in front of her to you. Your hair, your curves, your eyes. Everything about you was just...

"hello? did you hear me?" the woman raised her voice slightly to get her attention,

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts and focused on the clearly irritated woman in front of her.

"yea my bad, what was that..?"

The lady rolled her eyes and started asking questions about guitar lessons for her son or daughter or some shit, she wasnt really paying attention to the nonsense floating from her mouth.

"yeah, im not the one you go to about that, uhhh my buddy Jesse is in the back, he can help you"

"thanks" and with that, she headed towards the back, muttering words under her breath.

Ellie's attention quickly turned back towards you. She examines you closely. Watching you grab a vinyl from the shelf, Call Me If You Get Lost, is what you had grabbed. Ellie wants to walk over to you, and talk to you but shes scared. What if she says the wrong thing? What if she freaks you out? What if you think shes a weirdo.. She turns away to stop looking at you, her cheeks are red and shes shaking, she is just so nervous and she's not even planning on talking to you... She puts her face in her hands and begins to calm herself down.

"Hi! hello"

A voice chimes from behind her, she turns around and a lump forms in her throat.

Its... you.

———————————————————————————

YOU & I | ellie williams.

this is a DARK fanfic. Based heavily off of the show you on netflix and inspired by a fanfic I saw on tumblr. This story has adult themes, sexual themes, stalking, thoughts of killing (no actual killing just thoughts), themes of hate, ellie has slight mental issues (obv shes stalking) age gaps (only 3 years and they're adults). idgaf how old u are this is dark and you have been warned, i am not responsible for any type of reaction you may have to this as ive given you a warning. I will give warnings at the beginning of chapters that might be too dark. again you have been warned.

important - ellie might be a tad ooc, shy!ellie, switch!ellie if you squint. this is a lesbian ff.

MEN DNI I WILL FIND YOU.

reader is afab and 20

ellie is 23

modern au

jessie, dina, joel, tommy, maria, most of the main tlou cast is in this (not everyone will be mentioned or even really have a place in the story, just know they are present)

based in New York (obv)

i am not a professional writer, im simply a girl who writes shit when shes bored, do not expect me to have an upload schedule. I get drained v fast and i want to enjoy writing, its not a job with deadlines. so with that my grammar might be bad, spelling might be ass and if there is any math it will probably be wrong, it might be written in third, or first person i be fuckin up with that but yall will be fine.

YOU & I | ellie williams.

story created and written by @ecstasyhighway

tlou and the characters belongs to Neil Druckmann and Naughty Dog

the story of "YOU" belongs to Netflix

Story was ib by a ff i saw breifly but i don't remember who wrote it so, if yk pls lmk so i can give proper credit

THIS IS FICTION. DO NOT DO THIS SHIT IRL BRUH ITS ACTUALLY WEIRD ASF. AGAIN THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL. thank yew

uhhhh yeah enjoy ig and i do appreciate any supportive criticism as i am not a professional writer and shit could just be wrong.

also im new to tumblr fanfic writing so yeah 😭.

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie x you #fanfic #ellie is so hot #i need her so fucking bad #lesbian #ellie williams smut #ellie williams series #new to tumblr

[skiiyoomin]

What the JJK characters listen to part 2

warnings: swearing!! proofread

RULES !!

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK PLEASE

REQUESTS: OPEN

NAVIGATION

WHO DO I WRITE FOR?

Nobody asked for a second part. Do i care? no.

Characters included: Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara, Inumaki, Yuuta, Maki

idk if im missing anyone anyways YO THIS IS FUN

part 1

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

Yuuji Itadori

Honestly, he screams Shakira to me, and Jennifer Lopez too.

His entire music taste consists of 2000s pop music thats super nostalgic and at the same time makes you cringe.

ALSO, he has the Backstreet Boys on repeat. Like literally on loop all the time.

Tried, keyword tried, getting into classical music just to seem cultured and fancy but he ended listening to piano covers of Call Me Maybe and Britney Spears.

He´s the type of person you´d take with you to do carpool karaoke cause you know he´s gonna play the songs everyone knows.

Honorable mention: NewJeans (cause he´s secretly not so secretly a kpop stan)

Megumi Fushiguro

Isn´t it obvious?

He´s SO Lana Del Rey coded.

ALSO, he had a Melanie Martinez phase that´s really not a phase but he says it is.

Other than Lana, he listens to soft beat type of songs, like Cigarettes After Sex, Men I Trust or Clairo.

Even if its not his usual vibe, he lowkey highkey really enjoys Coldplay after Yuuji showed him one of their songs, especially their softer tuned songs. (aka Sparks im gonna cry hol up)

Honorable mention: Billie Eilish

Kugisaki Nobara

SHES A BARBZ ALL THE WAY

Her whole vibe is hot pink and a hot girl typa gal. That applies to her music taste as well.

Shes very much into female rappers like Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion too.

And lets not forget the classic pop stars like Ari or Jessie J.

Shes honestly in that sense a lot like Yuuji. They both connect because they listen to a lot of older pop music, except Nobara listens to more girly ish songs or in general songs that are very much female empowerment (queen behaviour)

Honorable mention: SZA (she had Kill Bill at full volume on repeat every time the boys annoyed her)

Inumaki Toge

Okay listen. I see a lot of headcanons that Inumaki is a huge gamer, like Fortnite type of gamer.

The first thing i thought of when i thought of this was dubstep and electro music. Also underground beatboxing.

Like bro i´m sorry im not but to me gamers are equivalent to that when it comes to music and im telling yall cause i had A PHASE (very cringe one we do not talk about it)

I also feel like he tried to be emo once but he only got as far as listening to Twenty One Pilots which isnt even emo so.

Honorable mention: Pitbull, he started listening to him as a joke because of the memes but its not a joke anymore

Yuuta Okkotsu

Ok ok to me he´s very soft boy coded, kind of like Megumi but more bright and cheerful.

HES A SWIFTIE. I dont make the rules sorry

You know that 2020 phase where everyone listened to soft music like Clairo, mxmtoon, Conan Gray, etc? Yeah he never got out of that phase.

BUT, hes evolved yall, his top genre is indie music.

lowkey feel like Inumaki got him into Twenty One Pilots and now he uses their music as an excuse to scream. He´s hella good at rapping their songs too like zayum.

Honorable mention: One Direction cause he never got over their disbandment

Maki Zenin

HEAR ME OUT

Before yall say anything listen to me.

I had to think this one through but shes very much rapper vibes to me, like og 2000s rappers like 2pac and Eminem.

I dont even know WHY but she just screams west coast thug life type of music.

Disses on modern rappers except Kendrick Lamar and MAYBE Travis Scott but thats saying too much.

I´m also convinced Yuuta introduced her to Joji and she cried in her room afterwards.

Honorable mention: Bruno Mars, dont ask

#headcanons #fanfic #anime #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk #jjk headcanons #headcanon #itadori yuuji #jjk yuuji #itadori #nobara #megumi #yuuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu nobara #nobara kugisaki #jjk nobara #jujutsu kaisen nobara #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #toge #okkotsu yuuta #jjk yuuta

[booppooo]

hi hi!! i saw u asking for request and i wanted to know if you could write about ellie x fem!reader playing 7mih (7 minutes in heaven) at a party!! (modern AU or not doesn’t matter) Ellie and reader have always had a thing for each other and things get steamy when they go to play!!

Seven Seconds

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader One-Shot

AN: omg omg omg this is just AAA (btw i like the idea of modern AU but for some reason I can’t imagine Ellie as a college lady killer LMAO)

Warnings: gay stuff duh, fingering, semi-exhibitionism?, party, drinking, Ellie being a hunk, swearing, dirty talk

(balengiga on twitter)

-

It was the end of semester party.

There was loud music, cheap booz, bright lights, and a thick layer of smoke hovering over the living room (A.K.A dancefloor). Despite all of this though, all you noticed was her. The way she smelled like eucalyptus and mint, her forest eyes admiring you in the most sultry way, full lips mouthing the words to the song. She made everything disappear and all your nerves tingle with excitement - the only thing keeping you from hiding in the corner was the three cheap beers warming your stomach.

You felt up your torso and chest as you danced closer to her. This made her bite her lip and through the music you heard her hum in delight. All night she had avoided laying a hand on you and it made you all that more desperate for her, forcing you to pull all the stops even for just one hand on your hip.

Anything for Ellie.

Ellie the lady killer. Ellie the star basketball player (don’t let her height fool you - her size made her that much quicker and agile). Ellie the guitar prodigy. Ellie the misses steal your girl.

Ellie, the one who had you wrapped around her perfect finger for months.

You knew it was a bad idea to let her have a place in your heart and make butterflies explode in your stomach, but you couldn’t help yourself. Everything about her had you running circles and blushing. She made you a damn fool.

Yet you pressed on, hoping that if you worked hard enough you’d get into her pants and finally get over her.

Though all your efforts were crushed when Jessie popped up beside you and drunkenly urged Ellie to come play seven minutes in heaven. He even took Ellie by surprise and made her slightly frown, forcing her attention away from you.

“Uh yeah, I’ll be there.” She replied flatly, nodding at his departure and immediately locking her eyes back onto you, leaning down toward your ear, “C’mom babe.”

It took a lot more self control than you wanted to admit to prevent you from giggling and snatching up her hand like a child on Christmas morning, so you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth and silently followed her out of the crowd, heart fluttering at how she would sneak looks over her should to make sure you were there. Even when you reached the basement and she took up the love seat, she patted the spot next to her leaving you like a crushing schoolgirl.

What you didn’t know was that Ellie had a thing for you too. Much more than a thing actually. She knew her reputation around campus was the token lesbian whom every girl fled to as a rebound or to experiment with, and she didn’t mind that because at the end of the day she got more pussy than you could count on both hands (more than most of the frat guys had ever gotten that is). She embellished this part of her and enjoyed her connection-free hookups.

Until you came along.

It was the same thing at first, just another pretty girl who clearly wanted to spend some time in bed with her which was completely fine - routine even. But as time went on and you two hung out more, she realized that every moment she wasn’t with you her cup was empty, she grew irritable and monotone. Even her friends noticed this and queried her what would posses her to get so grumpy. Every time she would deny it was the lack of your presence because she didn’t even want to admit it to herself, so how was she expected to blurt it out to her closest friends? But everyone saw through the bullshit.

Everyone but you and Ellie knew that Ellie was in love with you.

So when you took a seat next to her on the love seat and your perfume tickled her nose her breathing stuttered. All she wanted was to be next to you, but every time you were it made her knees wobble and cheeks hot…at least on the inside.

Her lean arm rested along the back of the love seat and she inched closer to you - still never touching - haphazardly claiming you. On the coffee table in the center of the room was the empty beer bottle, surrounding it was a room of eager players, ready to let their horny-drunk selves rue the night.

“Last ones down spins!” Dina giggled, wiggling a brow at you and Ellie.

Ellie glanced at you briefly with a smirk to mask how nervous she was beneath the surface. The odds of the bottle landing on you were slim to none and the last thing she wanted to do was give off the impression that she was open to anyone. Yet, she silently prayed and spun.

The bottle rattled against the table starting off as an amber blur and slowing down as the seconds passed. Ellie’s heart hammered against her ribs and her fingers felt numb with worry, staring down the bottle as if she could change its trajectory. Everyone scooted closer to the table, clinging onto the edge of their seats to see who would be awarded with seven glorious minutes with Ellie the womanizer, each rattle of the bottle was even more nerve racking than the last.

Then it stopped.

The end was pointing at you, and now every set of eyes in the room was either glaring at you or staring you down with curiosity. A handful of people ‘ooo’ed and ‘ahhh’ed, adding to your already skyrocketing anxiety.

But then you looked at Ellie and all of it fizzled away; all you saw was her copper toned hair in a half up do and excited gaze, pretty freckles and smug smirk. She stood from her seat and looked down at you like you were her new toy, enjoying the pink on your cheeks and the way you picked at your nails.

“Don’t make me wait.”

At that you all but jumped from your seat at her and took the hand she had offered to you. It wasn’t exactly a hand on your hip or chest but it’ll do. You felt her calloused finger tips and rougher palm, the way her hand almost swallowed yours and her lithe fingers wrapping kindly around yours. Her touch alone made you burst into flames.

After you stepped into the closet she called out to start the timer and locked the door behind her, a few seconds of darkness shared by your bodies until she tugged the chain to turn on the lightbulb.

You saw the shit eating grin plastered on her face, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you breathed, afraid to speak any louder.

Some silent seconds passed before you realized your time was dwindling and fast. You didn’t want to wait any longer but you didn’t want to throw yourself on Ellie and prove how hungry you were for her, you could save yourself at least that much embarrassment. But Ellie had other plans.

Swiftly and expertly she pulled you flush against her with one hand on your hip and the other cupping your jaw. She waited briefly to let you catch your barrings, and when she felt your hands against her back she swooped in for your lips. At first she was slow, kissing you gently and cautiously all while letting her fingers dance under the waist band of your bottoms. Then she took you by surprise by slipping her tongue past your lips to swipe over your own. It was no secret that she had taken this entire endeavor into her own hands, gladly controlling the reigns.

Her hips slammed into yours to pin you against the wall, meanwhile her fingers tangled into your hair and tugged softly, a low hum rumbled in your throat. Finally her hand crept down your naval and beneath your panties, feeling the lacy material and grinning into your deep and messy kiss. Before moving to your jaw and neck to leave marks she stopped to whisper in your ear.

“You knew this was gonna happen didn’t you,” she snapped the band of your panties and grinned at your small gasp.

She nipped at your collarbone confidently, other hand had slipped under your bra as she ran her fingers through your womanhood. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Fingers coated in your slick, she made sure to tease you before smashing her lips back onto yours, “So fucking wet for me. C’mon spread your legs - atta girl.” Your next moan was muffled by her passionate kiss as she plunged a finger into you.

Mercilessly she pumped against your g-spot causing you to break out into a faint sweat all the while twisting your tongue with her’s. Considering the circumstances you didn’t have much time for foreplay, but you were still soaking your panties and her hand. Her torso was still firmly pressed to yours and you tried your hardest not to claw at her back too hard, but sometimes you couldn’t help but dig your nails into her skin causing her to hiss deliciously.

A second finger was shoved into you and worked hard against your walls. Again you scratched at her back and moaned. “Fuck,” she groaned with a clenched jaw, “Mm you fucking like that don’t you, bet you would like this too-“ her thumb pressed against your clit and shifted as she pistoned her middle and ring finger. It didn’t matter to you what was happening beyond the closet and you made that obvious by moaning shamelessly - not that you could hold it back either.

“Ellie fuck! You’re gonna make me cum..!” You panted.

As more and more ecstasy pooled in your naval you couldn’t stop your knees from pressing together. You held Ellie close as to not collapse onto the floor from your jelly like muscles, head clouded with pleasure.

Ellie growled with determination, “Keep your fucking legs spread,” she demanded, fingering you faster and harder.

You sucked in your next breath at her intensity. With Godspeed your climax approached taking you by surprise, making your body even hotter than before and every nerve in your system either numb or overstimulated in the best way.

“Don’t stop don’t stop-“ you chanted breathlessly. She met your gaze with a proud smirk, “Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Hm?” You could only nod your response. She had reduced you to nothing but a drunken mess.

With a few more hard thrusts of her hand she could feel you squeeze around her digits - something she was very familiar with, “Yeah that’s it, just like that baby, cum on my fucking fingers. Fuck!”

In an attempt to feel grounded you snaked your fingers into her hair and grasped her strands. Your head fell back against the cement and your eyes rolled back, your loudest moan bouncing off the thin walls. An orgasm so intense you forgot you were human rippled up your spine and zapped all your receptors, leaving your quivering and gasping for air. Now you understood why Ellie was placed on a pedestal. Never before had you experienced a brain melting climax like this one.

Much to your disappointment her hand slithered out from your pants and away from your chest, the dry one gently pulling you from the wall and tucking some strands behind your ears. Your palms fell to her chest for stability until your vision reoriented and you blinked away most of the blur.

The door swung open.

Both you and Ellie snapped your heads in the direction of the light, “What the fuck I locked that!” Ellie complained.

“Seven minutes are up! And I have keys.” Jessie held up a ring of keys with a proud grin making both of you roll your eyes.

Slowly you both left the closet, Ellie still in the lead. Before the love seat had brought you nothing but anxiety and worry, but now it was a haven for your wobbly legs and sore groin. And in true Ellie fashion, she eyed down one of the meat-head frat boys and licked her fingers as a reminder to them who the real lady killer was.

#ellie x you #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut