#FUCK I CAN’T WAIT FOR THIS TO DROP ON SPOTIFY

[fishii-writes]

salvatore - sae itoshi

paring: sae x fem!reader

psst, look out for @/saioratral's version

cw: not proofread, intended lowercase, swearing!!, kaiser n reader are besties, reader is implied to be wearing a bikini/top with string at the back, slight horror themes, imagine i meant the description in a dandadan "acrobatic silky" way :3, no romance. i'd call this angst even, basically nearly 2.2k words of pain for reader, sae's lines are written in red, lyrics are in pink.

note: this includes themes of (in a way/implied) toxic sae. there's derealization themes in this, and swearing. there's a somewhat graphic? description of sae's face in this, and i want you to click off now if things like dandadan's art scare you. this isn't a very good horror/thriller fic but its certainly not smth i want anyone to be affected by. sae is kinda a ghost/hallucination ig. a bad memory.

a/n: wrote this in one sitting HELP. not my usual style. enjooyyy <3333 pls lmk how the "horror" went cus i wanna write more stuff like this :3 theres a few direct references of the song salvatore in this ;)

word count: 2190

listened to salvatore by lana del rey on repeat for this <3

on. off. on. off.

the lights flicker, it’s so annoying. how are you meant to read beside the pool if the stupid light keeps turning on and off?!

well, to be fair. it’s nearly midnight and you’re sitting beside the pool of your best friend’s house. its like a cliché scene from some music video, and its definitely not as aesthetic as it looks. its way too hot for sitting outside at night. it’s hot and it’s dark, no one’s gonna see you. so you pull off your shirt. if anyone does happen to be outside this late at night, it should be considered a blessing to see you. hah, losers.

you had a swimsuit under it since you and your best friend would regularly take late night swims when you both would stay up.

ah, right. said best friend’s name wasn’t ever dropped.

cue to michael kaiser. yeah, your best friend is crazy rich and. well, crazy.

thankfully, he’s asleep in his room right now. its funny, you can’t sleep at a sleepover. since he has a week break off of soccer, he invited you over to stay. for the whole week. today is day two, and you already miss home. sure, you missed your ever busy best friend. but your bed at home… it calls you…

hey, at least you’re getting pampered and getting princess treatment from your best friend.

so, another few minutes pass. its even hotter with just a swimsuit’s top on, what on earth?? you wait a few more minutes, fanning your face with your hands in hopes to cool off. but it seems not. you open your book from where you left off, the words still too dimmed since the light keeps flickering.

fuck it, you think. i’ll just listen to music. so you pull out your phone, lowering the volume as to not wake up michael in his room. you slip off your shorts, now sitting on the seat beside the pool in just your swimsuit. the air’s stuffy in a way, but a cool breeze almost flirts with your hair when a rush hits your face.

perfect.

you turn up the volume just a bit, slipping into the pool by the ledge as quietly as you can. the cold water embraces every inch of your skin, from the tips of your toes to forming endearing rings around your thighs. it feels like a cold yet comforting hug around your waist, and like a kiss to the fabric of your swimsuit when it soaks through.

it’s just perfect.

you feel yourself find comfort in the cold water. it’s summer and stinking hot. you’ll probably be out here a while, so you let your hair soak itself in the water, just like your swimsuit. you cross your arms over the ledge, pulling yourself up a bit too bring your phone close. the screen is just barely readable, your phone’s battery is about to die. you sigh, opening spotify and pressing the shuffle button twice. there, smart shuffle. now you’ll have some form of anticipation. you place your phone down a safe distance from the ledge, pressing skip on the dim screen and turning it off. however long the battery lasts is okay, you’ll be entertained for so long.

a song you can’t remember the name of plays. it has a slow-ish opening, something you’d expect to have stuck in your head when you see a hot guy walk past. or when you suddenly get that surge of confidence, of that feeling when you feel, no, know, you’re attractive.

and that’s what the opening lines of the song make you feel.

you turn to face away from the ledge, your back leaning against the cold tiles as a sigh escapes your lips. a relaxed sigh. a somewhat bored sigh. but a content one, to say the least.

“i adore you, can’t you see? you’re meant for me~”

the song hits close to home, a little too close.

ah, that’s right. the cold tiles against your back are suddenly unwelcoming, its like this massive pool is boxing you in. what’s the feeling? the cold water isn’t nice anymore, its like its throwing insults at you for being in it. the embrace around your legs and waist isn’t loving anymore, its threatening.

what is this feeling??

your breath hitches, then quickens.

in, out. in, out. in-out-in-out-in-out-in-

you hyperventilate in the cold water, the ledges of the cold, dark pool seemingly boxing you in. its all in your head, you try reminding yourself. but it doesn’t work. tch, when have you ever listened to yourself, anyways?

you turn to try pulling yourself over the ledge and getting out the pool, but your hands are shaking and obviously wet. tears fill to the brim of your eyes, both of frustration and fear.

you’re alone. that’s right, you miss him.

you desperately try using your foot against the tiles of the interior of the pool, to give yourself a boost out of the dark sea. but your attempts are in vain, how stupid. stop thinking like that! its just like him!

the song continues playing, almost like its mocking your futile attempts to escape this forsaken pool.

“catch me if you can, working on my tan~”

shut up! you trying pushing yourself onto the ledge again, it works! and then you slip back down the slippery tiles. well, not before you hit your chin on the ledge. you whine out in pain, forgetting to be quiet. a panic attack is the last thing you want in a pool, in the dark and alone.

okay. try controlling your breathing. in for five seconds, out for seven. you try. but your breath hitches again. you cough out, shaky hands letting go of the ledge to cover your mouth in hopes to muffle the sound.

bad idea.

you lose your footing and can’t grab on in time, to really anything. despite being a suitable height for the depth of the pool on your chosen side, your head goes under the water for a few seconds.

you force one eye open the smallest bit, stretching your arm out to grab the ledge. the tips of your fingers just barely grasp the sharp ledge, pulling your head out of the dark void of horrors.

you gasp out for air, coughing between each attempt for your lungs

to produce an action similar to that of blowing up a balloon.

its a good thing you closed the door as much as you could before sneaking to sit beside the pool, otherwise, michael would’ve heard you. you didn’t lock it, though, so there was a barely one millimetre gap.

you desperately try boosting yourself up just a bit once more, your tired body just barely forcing you up. you throw your arms over the ledge, crossing them over each other like you would cross them over your chest.

finally, you’re stable enough to keep your head above the water. your breathing also stabilises a bit, you can finally hear what song spotify has decided to play for you.

“puttin’ on my music, while i’m watchin’ the boys~”

you lightly, almost emptily laugh. like, what boys? he ignored your confession years ago, no more boys are worth looking for. with music dedicated to them, at that.

“that’s funny. more like music while i’m watchin’ the girls.” you hear a voice. not just any voice, a voice that pangs your heart. a voice that makes it feel like your lungs are filled with chlorine water again. a voice that cuts your fingers a hundred times worse than the ledge of the pool. a voice that fucks your mind over.

“s-sae…” you internally curse yourself for stuttering. no this can’t be real. why is he here? how?

you don’t turn around. hopefully you’re just talking to yourself. but you feel that same feeling, the one where an unrequited lover’s gaze stares holes into your back. despite being in clothing meant for the pool, your back mostly exposed, it feels like his eyes are undressing you. it’s like his eyes are pulling the string on the back of your swimsuit, its like he wants you to relive the pain of being tossed aside like some useless piece of trash.

“[name].” this is just a nightmare, this is just a nightmare. don’t fall for it. don’t fall for it again. don’t fall for him. don’t fall for him again.

he lightly laughs, it sounds mocking. it sounds like he’s walking closer. shit.

“i see you’ve found some self worth. kind of sad, more pathetic.” he stops. where is he??

you don’t turn your face to look for him, either. it’s not the fear of seeing him, like reviving your feelings or something. its the fear of seeing him in general.

you hear the footsteps along the tiles again, this time closer.

“aw what, no response? you used to talk on and on to me.” his voice is mocking, it’s almost… distorted? like in the slightest, it sounds distorted. it’s scary, like those distorted white faces you’d see on jump scare videos. now the fear’s really caught up to you, you hide your face in the crook of your crossed arms. you can feel goose bumps form on your skin, the cool breeze from earlier no longer endearing. it’s threatening. the hairs on your neck stick up as fast as you used to perk up when sae would see your messages. truly pathetic.

“don’t ignore me, my dear [name]. we have so much to catch up on~” his voice sounds more and more distorted by the second, you hear a crack. as comical as it sounds, the crack sounded like the sound of a neck cracking. in a bad way.

the steps move closer. and then they stop. for a good few minutes, they stop. its quiet.

oh thank god, it was your imagination. you slowly life your head, breathing out a sigh of relief-

then a hand settles on your shoulder. long, cold fingers fiddle with your hair. you slowly, almost like you’re stuck in slow-motion, turn your face.

there, a fully white-faced sae is bend over in the most inhumane, most terrifyingly distorted position you could even being to fathom. not to say just that, his face is elongated in an almost dandadan looking style. horror movies are fucking lies.

“come back home, [name]~” his eyes are black, drooping like liquid. his mouth is black, a drooping smile cursing his once smile-graced lips. his neck is bend in such weird ways, and his hands are elongated and around your neck.

around your fucking neck?! he slightly tilts his head, smile growing and showing his teeth that are weirdly far back in his mouth. not to say this whole situation isn’t weird or scary or any other fucking word other than ‘weird’! nope, nuh uh, no fucking way.

his head moves in an almost mechanical manner. one slight tilt makes a loud crack noise. his hand around your neck begins to squeeze, this isn’t a fucking dream!

you scream out as loud as you can, that one millimetre gap in the door being enough for your scream to reach michael. he open the door loudly, yelling out.

“[name]?! what happened?!” he yells, carefully running over the wet tiles to where you’re choking on your own sobs. he leans over the ledge, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoulders to pull you up. you lay in his lap and in the safety of his arms, sobbing and grabbing onto the back of his shirt like some distorted figure was about to end your fucking life in front of you. distorted figure of your first and only love, that is.

“what happened?” he repeats a bit softer, hugging you close. your hands desperately claw the back of his shirt, eventually falling limp.

he’s gone. sae’s gone. he was never there.

you stay frozen, what do you tell michael?? you don’t wanna worry him. you’re about to come up with a lie, but…

there’s a tap on your shoulder, and you don’t even need to turn around. from the corner of your eye, you see a long, white finger. shit.

it’s gonna be a long night, the tears fill and blur your eyes once more. your phone hadn’t run out of better just yet, so all that had happened in a span of maybe ten minutes.

smart shuffle played the same song again.

“salvatore can wait, now its time to eat, soft ice cream~”

both distorted? sae and the song whisper mockingly in your ears.

aww, and they say romance is dead ;)

taglist: @your-local-reblogging-kazoo , @tofumiarchives ,

@saioratral , @lakeside-paradise , @lumiambrose ,

@sharks-3 , @neoegoistleague + open (send an ask if you'd like to be added! :D)

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[drugsforaddicts]

[archiverstappen]

Hi I hope you’re well!! I just read the new chapter of the cat sitter and ugh I love that series so fucking much!! I was listening to a song and just knew you could create this.

So it a Max x reader smau where the reader is a mega pop star. Like Taylor Swift big and all eyes are on her. She gets invited to an F1 race by Redbull and joins their after party and gets to meet Max. Unfortunately Max is still dating K*lly. Reader is completely enamored by Max and writes break up with your girlfriend, I’m bored literally released it the next week. Everyone is losing their fucking mind trying to figure out who it is. Max knows it’s about him and he’s playing it cool and breaks it off with K*lly and starts secretly dating reader. Reader drops an album full of love/spicy songs like Gorgeous, Lover, Dress, 34+35, Positions etc etc and fucking hard launches them. Thanks!! If this is way too long and convoluted feel free to ignore.

Can’t wait to read more of your work because you absolutely body smau, it’s so good and the meme reaction pictures you use *chefs kiss*

break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem! singer! reader

masterlist

I LOVE THIS IDEA!! thank you @todaynotseen for your request🤍

[instagram]

ynupdates

liked by username and 492.289 others

ynupdates guess who is spotted at the paddock! y/n is at the austin gp as red bull’s special guest 🥰

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username SLAY 🧎‍♀️

username can’t wait to see her interactions with the drivers!

username i’m surprised that she even had the time to go to a race? i thought she was super busy with the tour😭

↳ username i hope she’s taking care of herself🥲

username THAT OUTFIT?!??! 😍😍

username im not saying that y/n is the most beautiful girl that has ever walked the earth but that is exactly what im saying 🤷🏻‍♂️

username Hey @/redbullracing, how about inviting someone who actually gets F1 for a change? I’m so sick of seeing a random celebrity who probably don’t know a thing about racing

↳ username uHM excuse me?!?? y/n’s brother has always been a big fan of f1 and she often goes with him to watch the races😭

username ma’am please get back to the studio, i need more music😩

[messages]

[instagram]

[twitter]

[messages]

[twitter]

[spotify]

[instagram]

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 and 7.037.222 others

yourusername my muse <3

tagged maxverstappen1

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen1 Lover💙

taylorswift 😍

landonorris Max can’t stop singing your songs 😒

↳ danielricciardo Yeah, it’s getting annoying

↳ maxverstappen1 Ok, no signed CD for you guys

↳ landonorris WHAT NO IM SORRY PLEASE DONT MY SISTER WILL KILL ME 😭

brotherusername 😩😩😩

↳ yourusername couldn’t do this without you big bro😘

-

pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: The tables are about to turn…

Word Count: 3.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Implied smut, drug use (weed smoking), and a bargain struck…

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 3: A Deal is a Deal

Once you were back from your little excursion, you were relieved to return to the privacy of your room. You dropped heavily down on the bed, face first, with an oof.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the white ceiling. Perfectly white. Unbidden, the memories of spending the day with Ben filtered through your mind. You were a little put out to realize you had mostly enjoyed yourself through it all, even though you knew he was only doing it to hook you in. To charm you.

To fuck you.  

But the memory of his cocky grin, the restrained power in his hands whenever he touched you, the feeling of his lips dragging against your skin, and his sinful voice…

Well, pulling away from him had taken more restraint than you’d anticipated. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you sat up and went over to your desk where your phone sat. It was time to check in at home.

You dialed the number from memory and waited as the line rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad, it’s me.”

“Oh! Hey, honey. How’s it going over there. You all settled in? Get to do your first save yet?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good,” you said. “I was meant to do my first save today, but…well, some things didn’t go according to plan.”

“Oh, really?” He sounded disappointed. It carved another small notch in your gut.

“It’s no big deal. I’ll get another chance soon,” you promised.

“Your first save on camera is important for your PR. They can’t wait too long on that,” he said.

You resisted the urge to sigh. You dropped your forehead into your hand, still holding the phone to your ear with the other.

“Yeah, I know,” you said. “Anyway, how’s Mom?”

He sighed. “You know. Good days and bad days. Today…today was a bad day.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth. Your brows furrowed with concern, and a familiar ache settled in your chest.

“Can I talk to her?” you asked.

“Ah, I just got her to take her medication. She’s resting now.”

“Okay. Yeah, don’t worry about it then,” you said. “…Do you think you guys will be coming up to visit with Chris this weekend?”

“You know what, I’m sorry, honey. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. All those people,” he said. You were nodding before he finished the thought, even if he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, it’s okay. They’ve got me pretty busy right now, but I’ll come by and see you guys when I can.”

“All right. Sounds good,” he said. “Oh, before I let you go. I got the latest bills on your mother’s treatments. It’s just, it’s a bit too much for us. Think you could help us out again?”

You paused for a second, but you readily agreed.

“Sure, just let me know how much. I’ll write you a check.”

“Perfect. Thank you, honey.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “Um, tell Mom I said hi then. When she wakes up.”

“Aw, I will. Don’t worry. Now, go out there and make some saves!”

Your lips pursed. “Yep, will do.”

When you hung up with your father, you felt even more exhausted than before.

You had another mission on your schedule, this time with Black Noir, Soldier Boy, and Gunpowder. Your excitement had built all day after Arthur’s assistant Joanna called you with the news.

However, when you got downstairs to the lobby where you were meant to meet the team, you found Crimson Countess in heated discussion with Arthur himself. 

He looked a bit exasperated, but was trying his best to be professional with her. You had a bad feeling about this. 

“I understand, but this is meant to be Sirena’s day,” Arthur said. “We’ll get you and Soldier Boy together on the next one. Just you two, if you guys want.”

“It’s just that Ben and I haven’t done enough together recently. I miss him,” she said, hanging off her boyfriend’s arm. Ben himself seemed to be going along with the idea, looking like he didn’t much care one way or the other. Yet his slight smile looked smug. It likely stroked his ego to have her wanting to be with him for once. 

She even leaned up for a kiss. Ben spotted you out of the corner of his eye. His smile kicked up a notch before he obliged her with a slow kiss.

Your gaze fell to the ground as you swallowed your irritation. It wasn't jealousy, however. You knew exactly what she was doing.

Arthur sighed. He’d noticed you as well. He gave you an apologetic look, but he came over and informed you that it would just be original team members today. Considering the last episode with you and Countess, he thought it best that they didn’t team you up again for your first official save.

Couldn’t agree more, you thought, but it also meant that you wouldn’t be going out with the team today. You’d be losing a prime opportunity to show what you could do and finally get the ball rolling on some good PR.

Countess shot you a wink when she and the rest of the team started to head out. You gave her a fake smile.

Fucking bitch.

The weekend came, and you had to put on a good face to hide your latent frustrations from your brother, Chris. He and his family had come to visit you, driving over from Queens.

When they arrived in the Tower lobby, you went to them and let your brother pull you into a big bear hug. It brought a genuine grin to your face as you hugged him back. You hadn’t seen him in months.

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said.

“What do you mean? I’ve been on my very best behavior,” you quipped.

He smiled wryly. “I’m sure.”

He pulled back so that Danny, your four-year-old nephew, could run up to you. You bent to his level and gave him a big hug as well.

“Hey, buddy!” you said. “Did you get the action figures I sent you for your birthday?”

“Oh, he did,” said Ellie, your sister-in-law. “To no one’s surprise, Soldier Boy’s his favorite. He sleeps with it under his pillow.”

You laughed a little dryly at that. Danny was a big superhero fan as well, but there was no accounting for taste. Your brother sidled up to you for a conspiring whisper.

“Yeah, about that. Is the big guy busy?” Chris asked. “Because I may have accidentally promised Danny that he’d get to see Soldier Boy today, and he hasn’t shut up about it ever since we started planning this trip. It’s literally the only thing he wants. So maybe now that you’re a famous superhero, you can do your big bro a solid so the kid doesn’t have the world’s most epic meltdown—”

“All right, all right. Shut up,” you said, holding back a laugh. Inside though, you were strained.

Shit.

“Okay, why don’t you guys hang out in the lobby for a bit, check out the gift shop,” you said. “I’ll…see if Soldier Boy isn’t too busy.”

You braved going up to Ben’s apartment on the penthouse floor, where three beautiful, if scantily clad escorts were just leaving. One of them was stuffing a wad of cash into her bra. Rolling your eyes in disdain, you almost lost your nerve.

This isn’t for you, you reminded yourself. It was for your nephew.

So you knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” you heard from inside.

“It’s me, Sirena.”

There was a pause, but eventually he replied.

“Come in.”

You had some trepidation twisting the knob and opening the door. When you stepped into his suite for the first time, you weren’t surprised to be assaulted by the smell of sex and weed smoke. You waited in the foyer of a lavish space, with shiny marble floors and rich dark wood furniture.

Ben padded out to you barefooted, but at least he was clothed, in a black silk robe no less. He was also smoking a fat blunt.

“What’re you, Hugh Hefner?” you couldn’t help a remark.

Ben grinned around his oral fixation. He blew a coil of dank smoke up into the air.

“Who do you think gave him the whole Playboy idea?” Ben said. He eyed you in your supe suit. “What can I do for you, baby doll? You caught me at a good time. Although, about twenty minutes ago would’ve been even better.”

Hiding your disgust, you waved the gray, musty cloud away from your face.

“Since it’s a good time, I actually wanted to…ask you for a favor,” you said. You knew how dangerous that really was by the way he smiled.

“Okay,” he said expectantly. You released a breath to steady yourself.

“My family’s here visiting, and understandably so, you’re my nephew’s favorite superhero.”

Ben chuckled through his nose, releasing more smoke like a fire breathing dragon.  

“Understandably, huh?”

“Of course,” you said. You made sure your smile seemed sincere. “Look, about what happened last week…I hope you’re not upset with me. I had a lot of fun with you that day, and I’m really grateful that you wanted to show me a good time. To be honest, I’m incredibly flattered that you even noticed me.”

You took a step closer into his orbit, until your chest was inches away from brushing his. He looked down at you. 

“But I know I’m the rookie here. I don’t want to step on any toes, especially Countess’s. I have a feeling she doesn’t like me very much,” you said. Your eyes were half-lidded in demure. 

You were putting on your best performance. He only took half the bait, however. Ben’s mouth quirked at the corner, and he set his blunt on a nearby ashtray.

“I understand,” he said. “So what do want from me?”

Hmm, maybe your rejection had bruised his ego more than you expected. But really, he had to be refusing to break up with Countess for appearance’s sake, because there didn’t seem to be any real love there.

Christ, he wants to have his cake and eat it too.  

“Well, like I said. My nephew is downstairs, and he’d really love to meet you,” you said. “Could you, uh…pretend to be a little more family friendly for a minute and take a quick picture with him?”

Ben frowned, like he was offended. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? I’m a family guy.”

You raised a brow. Glancing around his apartment, you didn’t see any pictures on the walls, nor had you ever even heard him talk about his family.

“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You blinked your eyes wider. Really?

“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.

Ben’s cocky smile said it all.

Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”

His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.

You tried to stifle your smile of amusement.

“One kiss?” you clarified.

“One kiss,” he agreed. “That’s harmless, right?”

Unlikely. But it was a bargain you were willing to make. It might even work in your favor.

“Okay,” you nodded, guiding his hand away from your face. “After you hang out with my nephew, for five minutes at least.”

He smirked at you. “You’re a demanding little thing.”

You gave a more impish smile. He then walked away to his bedroom, presumably to get dressed. You hoped he’d take a quick shower as well.

Ben found you downstairs in the lobby, now cleaned up and dressed in his supe suit. He hammed it up with your family. He was charming with your brother and your sister-in-law, and welcoming to your nephew, calling him young man and sport and pal and recounting an old war story with gusto. 

When it was time to take a picture with Danny, Ben lifted the kid up into his arms, pretending he weighed a ton. It made a normally shy Danny giggle with glee, and Ben playfully held him under his arm so he could ruffle his hair. You noticed some genuine joy on the man’s face.

Afterwards, Danny even unzipped his backpack and showed his hero his collection of action figures. His prize’s possession, of course, was Soldier Boy.

Things were going so well that Chris and Ellie felt comfortable enough to break off and grab some food at the food court, while you stayed with Ben and Danny. They sat on one of the couches in the lounge area, play fighting with the action figures.

“So, got yourself a girlfriend yet?” Ben asked.

When Danny made a face of confusion, you shot the man a pointed glance.

“He’s a kid, Ben.”

He shrugged with a grin. “Fine. A little early for that, huh? Trust me, not for long.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“What’s your favorite sport to play at school then?” Ben asked.

“Ummm…” Danny thought about the question. He was busy creating a small Lego tower for Swatto to perch on. “Connect 4.”

“Connect 4?” Ben repeated. He shot you a glance, and he leaned over. “Kid ain’t too bright, is he?”

“He’s four years old,” you whispered indignantly. “He’s not exactly getting drafted for the NFL.”

Again, Ben shrugged you off and continued playing with the kid. You had a feeling he was enjoying it more than he’d be willing to admit.

When Chris and Ellie returned with food for you and Danny as well, Ben took it as his cue to duck out of the rest of the family activities.

“Thank you for your time, Soldier Boy,” Chris said, shaking his hand firmly. You knew he was trying to come off as manly as he could. You hid a smirk behind your hand while Ben obliged him with a nod.

“Yes, thanks so much!” Ellie gushed. She’d got a picture on her own with Ben earlier, and Chris had tried to pretend to be okay with the way she’d hung off the supe’s arm with proverbial stars in her eyes.

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” said Ben, laying a smiling kiss on her hand. You thought her heart might just stop right there.

You sighed and took Ellie by the shoulders. “Okay, why don’t you sit down before you pass out.”

“Good idea,” she said breathily.

“You’re leaving?” Danny asked. He looked up at Ben with big glassy eyes, and he started to cry.

Chris grasped his shoulder and smoothed back his hair. “Aw, buddy. Soldier Boy’s really busy, and it was really nice of him to spend so much time with you.”

You laid a hand on Danny’s other arm. You glanced up at Ben, imploring him with your eyes, though you didn’t exactly know what you were asking for.

With a subtle sigh, Ben relented. He lowered down and took a knee in front of Danny.

“All right, none of that now. There’s two things a man doesn’t do: cry, and take shit from anybody,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, Ben laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I’m not going to forget you, Danny. In fact, I’m really glad I got to meet you today. Because I can tell you’re gonna be a great man someday.”

Danny sniffed, but his tears stopped. He smiled when Ben ruffled his hair again.

Despite yourself, you smiled too as you watched the scene.

Maybe he does have a heart in there somewhere.

After dinner, you gave your brother and his family a tour of Vought Tower, including your apartment. An hour later, you led them back to the lobby. They had booked a hotel nearby and were planning to see more of the city tomorrow before they went back to Queens.

You were grateful to get some time alone with your brother first, while Ellie took Danny for one last stop at the gift shop. You and Chris sat together in the lounge area.

“Is Dad still asking you for money?” he asked.

You frowned at him. “For Mom’s medical bills. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Okay,” Chris said, glancing away. “It’s just ironic that Mom and Dad can’t really appreciate how far you’ve come, after everything they did to get you here. After everything you did to get here.”

You sighed. They’d had variations of this conversation before, and it never ended well.

“It’s not her fault she got sick,” you said.

“Yeah, it can’t be the pack-a-day she smoked since we were kids.”

“Chris.”

“Well, it didn’t just tickle her lungs and kidneys,” he pointed out. “I swear, our family should’ve been sponsored by the Marlboro Man.”

You shook your head and glared at him. “She’s getting really bad now.”

“Yeah, I know. You weren’t the only one they called asking for money,” he said. He quieted in contemplation.

Despite his attitude, you knew he was hurting. This was just how he dealt with pain—by pretending he didn’t feel it.

Chris eventually sighed, relenting a little as he grabbed your shoulder. “Sorry. I know it’s always been harder on you. I just…they want to pretend like all that other shit never happened, you know?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You didn’t have the energy to get into all that other shit. Not today.

After you said your goodbyes to your family, you steeled yourself and ventured back up to the penthouse floor. This time when you knocked on Ben’s door, he was properly clothed, now out of his supe suit and wearing a nice shirt tucked into some dark brown slacks. He was halfway to putting on a pale gold Rolex.

He must be going out, you thought.

“Two visits in one day? Boy, do I feel fuckin’ special,” Ben remarked. He offered you a drink, and you accepted. You actually needed something to calm your nerves.

He led you into the living room and made you a vodka soda upon your request. He poured a glass of bourbon for himself. You slipped a finger around the rim of your glass, and you met his expectant gaze.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, “for what you did today.”

You then smiled wryly. “I know it wasn’t without motive, but it made my nephew really happy.”

You took another sip of your drink and set it down on a ledge above the fireplace. It was your turn to look up at him expectantly.

“Okay. A deal is a deal,” you said. “One kiss. I’m sure you’ll make the most of it.”

Ben set down his own glass beside yours. He drew closer, looming over you. You almost felt the warmth of him; you certainly felt his anticipation. Or was that your own?

His head bowed, ever closer. But he stopped just shy of his lips brushing yours.

“Not just yet,” he said. He pulled back from you, making your brows furrow.  

“Not yet?” you asked incredulously.

“Just what I said, sweetheart,” he grinned.

You blinked up at him in confusion, and then in annoyance, though you tried to keep it off your face.

“Must we play this game? Just kiss me,” you said. You grasped his arms in invitation, but he slipped out of your hold.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“But why?” you asked. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Apparently it is to you, rookie,” Ben said. He stepped back into your personal space, but you held your ground. “So I played nice, like the gentleman I am. But now, it’s gonna be my right to claim my prize when I want to.”

Your lips pursed. So he wanted to change the rules, did he?

You adopted a more magnanimous smile.

“Fine,” you said.

You grabbed your vodka soda and took another poised sip before you slipped it into his hand. Then you turned on your heel and left his apartment.

Ben watched you go with a smirk on his face. He raised his own glass back to his lips. He knew then that no matter what game you were playing at, he’d finally gotten under your skin.

AN: Ben's pressing his luck, isn't he? 😂 But I think you guys are going to like where we're going next...

(Bet you wondered why a song from Grease was on the music playlist for this series. 😉)

Next Time:

Arthur nodded. “Well, Soldier Boy agrees that you’re impressive. And he’s been chomping at the bit for something new. So, I talked to Madelyn and the rest of the team, and we think you two should do a duet together. A cover.”

You blinked a bit wider. “O-Oh, really? Of what?”

“You remember ‘You’re the One That I Want,’ by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John?”

“From Grease?” you asked with furrowed brows. That movie was like, five years old already. But you did see the previews for a new movie John and Olivia just did together, Two of a Kind. It was set to come out later this year.

“Exactly,” Arthur said, pointing at you. “It could be bigger than the movie!”

You doubted that, but it was still a great opportunity for you. The exact kind you'd been waiting for. There was just one problem.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[gigi-loveless]

Streamer!Hazel inviting her fan favorite girlfriend to play stardew valley and having to fight chat bc they keep calling her their girlfriend too

WHO TOLD YALL ABOUT MY STARDEW VALLEY ADDICTION 😭

reqs are open!!

listen to hazels spotify here ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

once you and hazel moved in together, her already chaotic streams were bombarded with curious messages about who the gorgeous girl bolting across the background was. you didn’t mind though, hazel found such confidence and joy in streaming, so you were happy to support her, even if it meant sprinting or crawling across the room to avoid making a fuss of your presence.

as you grew more and more used to hazels life being in front of the camera, you began to warm up to appearances, which to your surprise was oddly…a hit. her subscribers were obsessed with the way her girlfriend would scruff up her headset hair and the witty one liners she would shout from the kitchen when hazel would scream bloody murder at her screen.

you became a sensation, a staple of hazels streams being highlighted by the floods of comments when you would make an appearance to comment on her gaming skills while lounging in your pink chair.

she had been hyping this up all damn week. you are somewhat of a gamer yourself, just not as invested as hazel is, so she decided to revive her stardew valley farm that got her viral in the first place from screeching at the screen when she finally found the mayors ‘shorts’.

“so chat, i know i’ve been hiding who our special guest is tonight….but i think you’ll find the wait worth it!” as hazel excitedly drags your iconic pink gaming chair into frame, the chat blows up, with gay keyboard smashes galore.

HOLY SHDITNJEJWE

ITS HER

IM TOO GAY FOR THIS

you giggle from offscreen; the fact that just your chair can set them off like that is too much for you, it’s incredible and hilarious and heartwarming all at once.

“okay, okay goddamn….come on in babe.” she nods over at your chair, as you flounce over and plop in it, slipping your pink headset on.

“hi guys!”

“you wanna tell them what we’re playing?” hazel ponders.

“oh, yeah! okay guys so….drumroll my love?” you glance over at your girlfriend, who pounds on the desk. “we’re starting stardew valley tonight!”

the chat erupts.

damn, gays really do love stardew valley.

as you boot up the game, hazel scrolls through the chat, and notices a comment-

she’s our girlfriend now bestie 🤭🩷

“hey! she’s mine guys, get your own!!”

“haze, what are you talking about?”

“someone said you’re all of chats girlfriend!!”

“rightttt….okay honey.” you giggle as you click through the startup screen, creating a new save file.

“okay, so…what should our name be?”

she sniffs and gets this shit eating grin on her face, while your jaw drops realizing exactly what she’s thinking.

“you can’t say pussy hazel.”

“damn it!”

she settles on naming and modeling the character after you, but insists on taking control for the rest of the customization.

“hazel!!”

“what!!”

“you can’t say my favorite thing is ‘this strap!’”

“but it’s true!!! stop looking!!”

you sigh and turn back over to the chat, where you’re stifling back laughter over the comments.

hazel can’t handle her she’s OUR girlfriend now

OUR GIRLFRIEND FOR REAL

petition for us all to date hazels gf she needs a break 😭

“hey, what’s so funny?” she puts her hand on your back as she skims the chat. “HEY!! SHES MY GIRLFRIEND!!! MINE!!” the smile spread on her face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen from her before. she truly loves streaming, and she loves showing you off in them, but of course she’d never confess that to her subscribers.

never xoxo 💋

sorry she’s not our girlfriend

she’s our wife

“FUCK!”

this is gonna be a long night.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR THIRTEEN

in which eddie wants to distract you from the one thing you ask for: honesty. it's a shame he never realized just how dirty you can play when you want something bad enough.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, smut, female masturbation/male masturbation, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), minors dni

→ wc: 3.2k+

→ a/n: probably the shortest chapter of the entire series. if i added anything else from what will be in hour 14, it would simply get too long. and this length felt good for what i was trying to accomplish! as always with my smut, my apologies if it ain't up to standard. i don't really edit my smut chapters haha. thank you all for being so kind and for all messages, reblogs, etc! &lt;3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

13:00 ────────ㅇ───────── 24:00

HOUR THIRTEEN - 4:00 AM

“Would you like me to be honest now, doll? Or would you rather me eat that poor pussy right here, right now, on this counter?” 

Against your better judgment, your knees spread for him. 

Honesty can wait, you realize, as his palms are warm against your skin. He’s slow in his descent, dropping to his knees on his kitchen floor at an antagonizing pace. 

“Is that what you want? I was interrupted earlier, after all,” he murmurs, eyes locked with yours as he finally settles on the floor, hands cupping the back of your knees before tugging your hips to settle at the edge of the counter, “Use your words for me, sweetheart.” 

No, we can’t settle a fight with sex. That is not becoming our new normal. 

“Yes,” you breathe out, your mind in shambles as you look down at him on his knees for you. As if he’s prepared to worship. As if the two of you weren’t just arguing. 

“Yes, what?” 

He’s weaponizing himself against you now. Fingertips tickling down your calves, smiles lilting in a knowing grin. He knows that he has you right where he wants you right now. He knows just how desperate he can turn you. 

“Yes, please,” you beg, giving into the desperation far too soon. But he only tsks in response, not fully accepting the plea despite the rashness that drips from your tone. And so you try again as his fingers return to your waist and plays with the band of the sweatpants you had just put back on, “I want you to eat my poor pussy right here, right now. On this counter. Please.” 

He doesn’t expect the straight-forwardness, the crude words – you shock even yourself. You can see his upper-hand immediately falter as his breath catches in his chest and his hands curl unexpectedly into the bare skin beneath the clothing he was fiddling with. 

He thinks he has you right where he wants you, but you know better. You’ve caught on quickly; he isn’t just doing this to distract you, but because he needs it just as much as you. This is not a weapon against just you in this argument, but himself as well. The distraction is a double-edged sword, and just as he was pressing it against your own skin in the form of a devilish grin and wandering hands, you decide to press it right back. 

You go for the sternum as you whisper, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s a win-win for you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he keeps his face stoney, but you can catch his blush rising underneath the fluorescent lighting. 

In another daring move, you swat away his hands, and you remove the sweatpants.

Fuck Eddie. Fuck all the fights. Fuck letting him have all the control, all the fun. 

“No? Allow me to explain,” your voice grows in volume and confidence simultaneously, and you relish the way his eyes have widened when met with your clothed core once more. He’s looking at it like it’s the first time, as if he hadn’t just had his way with you on his couch, you at his mercy fully. “I think you want to get your mouth on me even more than I want it. And if you get your way, you also get to avoid honesty. Again.” 

Your mind somehow becomes sharper in the haze he’d originally caused. The look in his eyes only fuels you as you bring your hands to the edge of his sweater, toying with the hem and smirking at him. 

“I see,” he hums, reaching out for you, eyes still glassy and distracted. You swat his hand away before it even gets the chance to reach your knee. In an instant, his gaze adverts from your pussy to look up to you, stunned with a dumb-struck expression, puffy lips parted as his mouth hangs open ever-so-slightly, “That sounds like a win for me and for you. I’m not seeing the issue here, doll.” 

“The issue is you avoiding honesty, Munson,” you scoff. You finally lean forward, pulling his sweatshirt off of you. You toss it to the ground beside where he kneels, now wearing nothing but your panties and the shit-eating grin that would usually belong to him, “I’d like to propose a deal.” 

He’s easy to turn dumb. Too easy. The moment your breasts are exposed, the man before you is nearly drooling, eyes darting from them to your core, rinse and repeat, as if he can’t decide what to focus on. Anywhere but your eyes. Anywhere but your smug expression. 

You have the upperhand. 

“Look at me,” you demand. Your voice doesn’t hold the same strength as his would – that’s not your forte. Your forte is in the softness you continue to carry, the delicacy you now weaponize with shy fingers that trail down over your own stomach, inching closer to your underwear.

“What’s the deal?” he asks without complying to your request. 

Immediately, you pause your wandering hands to lean forward, balancing your elbows on your knees as a hand grabs at his chin. It’s daring, even for you, but oh so rewarding. Blown out pupils swallow up the shades of gold that thread his irises as you give him no other choice to focus on your face again. 

“What do you want?” he’s the one now desperate, still on his knees, urgency drowning out any cockiness that had been in his tone to begin with. He’s at your mercy, “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” 

“Honesty.”

He’s turned into something impenetrable. You can practically feel the waves of his ocean still. Neither of you breathe for one second, two seconds, three seconds. Only three seconds, but it could have been an eternity there in his kitchen. 

Your grip on his chin never falls. 

“Honesty?” he questions, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing, “I already told you, princess, you either get one or the other. You can’t have both. Not happening.” 

“No?” you coo, finally removing your fingers from his skin. There’s not a single sign of the hold you had on him, your touch having been as soft as a butterfly’s wings. He’s unmarked, and he’ll remain that way, unless he agrees to your terms. You’re determined now. The upper hand won’t be sliding from your grasp as easily as it had fallen from his, “That’s a shame.” 

You lean back and his eyes follow your every movement, “And why’s that?” 

“Because if you’re not honest, you’re not laying a hand on me.” 

“That’s still my deal, baby,” he’s trying to be condescending again, to get you back under his thumb and constrained by his idea of a distraction. 

It won’t work. Not this time. 

He leans forward, and just as his breath hits the wet spot that had begun to form over your clothed cunt, you bring a hand to his forehead and push him away. Your knees snap shut immediately as he tries to keep his balance, leaning back on his haunches. 

He’s glaring up at you now. But he’s still not desperate enough. 

“Not your deal at all,” you continue on. You’re enjoying yourself far too much, and he can tell. His breathing is picking up, his jaw has locked as he gazes up at you, “See, pretty boy, with my deal, we could have our cake and eat it too,” He swallows hard as you bring a hand up to one of your breasts, “You’re honest with me, and I let you get your mouth on my pussy. A win for everyone.” 

“And if I’m not honest?” 

“Then I’ll take care of myself. I’m a big girl, simple as that.” 

You’ve had to spell it out for him, but it finally clicks in his mind. You can watch the mechanics of him processing your words in real time, and that desperation you’ve been seeking out this entire time has arrived. Pathetic, big eyes. Lips twitching to avoid falling victim to a pout. If you could see his knuckles, you’d find them turning a bright shade of white as he grips his knees painfully. 

Just as he opens his mouth to argue again, your finger flicks at your nipple. All words on his tongue die, shrivel, dissipate at the sound of your soft moan. 

“Such a shame,” you sigh out, heading lulling backwards. The back of your skull hits his cabinet with a soft thump and you hope that it won’t ache once the adrenaline and euphoria has passed, “I was kind of excited to see what that mouth could do besides piss me off.” 

“You’re bluffing,” he deadpans, zeroing in on your fingers as they let go of one nipple and move onto the next, “You’ll cave before I do, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I will,” your voice is breathless as you twist your nipple, arching your back into the touch for emphasis. It’s not as good as his hands would be, you know that, but you’re not backing down now. You have your eyes on the prize, staring down honesty with the same intensity that he stares between your legs. 

“No? Are you sure you aren’t imagining how much better my fingers could be? My hands?” he eggs on. Almost as if subconsciously, he’s leaning forward into your gravitation again. When his nose brushes your knee, your thighs clench harder. 

It’s not to keep him out. His words travel down your spine, wrapping and shocking all the way down until they’ve reached your core.

His hands would feel better, but his honesty will feel the best. 

“You forget that before tonight, I went about life just fine without your hands,” you reply as you finally let your hand begin down a path over your torso again, starting at your sternum and traveling at an agonizing pace. You’re teasing yourself just as he would, as you know he wants to. 

As you know he craves to. 

“Yeah?” he chuckles lowly. Your eyes flutter close as your fingers reach the band of your panties, and you try to imagine the look on his face as you prepare yourself for his taunting, “I’ve seen the way you stare at my hands, baby. I’ve caught you staring when I’m playing with my rings. That dumb expression on your face as you watch me tap on tables. Just how many times have you imagined them wrapped around your throat, or knuckles deep in that pussy, before tonight?” 

Your eyes snap open. His chest is puffed up both in self-satisfaction and heaving breaths, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. And he knows you’re watching intently, making a show of it as he slows the drag of it. A small teasing of this tongue could be on you right now. 

“See, now you’re asking a bit much of me, don’t you think?” you try to keep your tone even as your hand stays poised at the edge of your underwear, making eye contact once more, “Sounds a lot like you’re asking for honesty from me. You shouldn’t ask for things you can’t give in return.” 

With those words, your hand plunges into your underwear, fingers sliding between your folds, teasing your hole as you gather wetness to trail back up to your clit. 

It breaks Eddie. Seeing your fingers hidden by your panties, pleasuring yourself, making whines begin to spill out between gasps, pulled from the back of your throat as your knees separate enough to accommodate your hand. 

“What do you want me to be honest about?” he nearly barks out. You see his shoulder moving, arm crossing closer to his lap, and know his palming himself through his sweats. 

You take the time to insert a finger into your clenching hole, Eddie’s eyes finding yours at the intrusion, biting down your moan into a mere hum before saying, “Why do you hate me?” 

“Right now?” he gasps out, confirming he is touching himself to the show you’re putting on, “I hate you for being such a fucking brat. I hate you for thinking you’re in control right now.”

“I am in control.” 

You slip in a second finger, curling them in sync as you press them in knuckle-deep. It’s not enough – it’s not as good as his fingers. You whine out at the thought, bucking your hips against your hand, palm applying pressure on your clit. 

“Baby, you wish you were-” he goes to bring a hand to your knee again, and you’re already ready with a hand, grabbing his wrist sharply this time. 

“How hard are you right now?” you ask, having to slow your movements to get out any coherent words. You can feel his heartbeat racing below his skin, feel the taunt muscles of his arm as he tries to exercise self-constraint. He’s losing – he’s failing, miserably. 

Just having his skin against yours as you continue to pump your own fingers into yourself has more intense waves of pleasure tearing through you. 

“How- I-” he stutters. He’s licking his lips again, but this time, it’s not to tease you. 

He craves it as much as you need it. You need his honesty, and you need his goddamn mouth on you. 

“I asked you a question,” you pant, grip tightening on him. You can see his shoulder shifting more fervently now, see the flush of his cheeks. He’s touching himself, and he’s close. 

If he finishes first, he wins. You can’t have that. 

“Tell me how hard you are right now, honestly, and I’ll let you touch me.” 

A snap in his composure. You feel it in the twitch of his wrist in your grasp. “Hard. So fucking hard, I can’t fucking think right now,” you begin to get starry vision, pumping your fingers faster, curling harder to reach for a spot you can’t seem to find when his eyes are on you and his hands are right there, “If I don’t get my mouth on you within the next five seconds, sweetheart, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” 

You’re right on the edge, teetering over a cliffside. At the bottom are all the repercussions of what is to come. The breeze of your defeat, the call of his honesty. You don’t have to think twice; you remove your hand from yourself despite the disappointment that ruffles your entire body, and your knees fall open to him. 

He hardly gives you the time to release your grip on his wrist before his fingers are tearing into the waistband of your panties and tearing them down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor limply once they brush your ankles. His palms dig into the meat of your thighs, spreading you impossibly apart and tugging you to nearly hang off the edge of the counter before he’s bringing his face to your hot core.

And then he pauses. You’re waiting for the feeling of his tongue in you, his nose to bump your clit, and he pauses. 

“For the record,” he breathes out, and it has your core clenching against nothing as you feel it against you. His fingers dig into your thighs harsher, “I never hated you.” 

You look down at him, pretty between your thighs, brown eyes sparkling, “Are you being honest right now?” 

“I am,” he doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward and kissing your mound, “I could never hate you.” 

You’ve won. Your victory settles in the air around the two of you, your victory whispers between each kitten lick he makes at your clit, to each thrust of his fingers when he presses two into you without warning. Your victory tangles in his hair just as your hands do as your hips buck up against his mouth, desperate and uncaring in lack of control. Your victory splotches your vision, blacking it out when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Your victory dances with the stars behind your eyelids as he curls his finger into the spot you’d been searching for, as he traces an unspoken language over your clit, as you repeatedly call out his name and he murmurs “good girl” in vibrations that reverberate through your core, your spine, your vines, your flames. 

You’ve won. But it doesn’t feel like winning when you’re coming down from your high, Eddie pressing kisses to your inner thigh and lips shining from your slick, and his words come back to haunt you. 

“I could never hate you.” 

The victory has come at a cost. One that neither of you address as you catch your breaths. As you slump to the side, resting your temple against the side of his cool refrigerator, you look down to see a wet spot spread across the crotch of Eddie’s sweatpants. 

You knew he had been touching himself to you touching yourself, but the patch is far too large to have just been precum. 

“Did you…” you murmur, fighting a grin, “Did you cum from eating me out?” 

Eddie, remarkably enough, isn’t even shameless as he rakes a hand through his curls, pursing his lips in a way that only accentuates to the slow curl upwards of the corners, “You look so surprised for someone who was so insistent that I needed that more than you did.” 

“I was right,” you laugh, lifting out of your lean supported by the appliance to your left, “I knew it.” 

He only chuckles back in response, rising slowly from his kneeling position, “Yeah, yeah, Sherlock Holmes. You cracked the case – congratulations,” he doesn’t close the space between the two of you as he stands there, and his words pester the back of your mind again. If you could never hate me, why are you so far away right now? “Stay here, I can come back with another ra-”

“You don’t have to clean me up again,” you interrupt. His words are pushing forward now. I could never hate you. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t fit right into everything you already know of Eddie, “I’ll be fine. Just clean yourself up, yeah?” 

He looks taken back, but says nothing more as he nods before leaving the kitchen. He sends you one last glance, one last chance to say more. But you can’t say a word to him, or even meet his gaze, as you filter through endorphins and try to pull sensibility from what just happened.

He leaves, and you regret. You don’t regret doing all of this with him – you’d enjoyed it, he’d enjoyed it, it was good – but you regret how it’s happening. You regret all the emotions it’s nurturing. Feelings that turn it all complicated, that make this entire ordeal more than something casual. This night is going to haunt your mind for the rest of your days. It has carved out an emptiness inside of you that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had been, and you had already spent a year filling it in with the dirt of sour interactions and abrasive fights. 

It didn’t really matter, though, whether it had been there before tonight or not. All that matters is the space there was empty once more, hollowed out by five simple words.

“I could never hate you.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[xiakato]

SEVEN(M)- GAEUL

Monday

“Oppa?” Gaeul looks over at you, noticing she hasn’t gotten your attention. She crawls over to you, “Oppa?” Still nothing. She gets closer to you, your earbuds in your ears. She smirks to herself, getting a hold of one pulling it out and whispers in your ear, “Daddy~”

“W-what? Gaeul you know not to do that,” You slightly scold her, as she giggles. 

“Is it a good song?” She gestures to your phone on spotify as you listen to Seven by Jungkook. 

“It is, the explicit is better,” You tell her as you lay back onto the bed. 

Gaeul straddles you, “Have you been fucking me right?” 

“You and I both know I don’t let you leave this room if you can still walk straight.” 

She grabs your hand bringing to her ass, “So why don’t you do just that daddy?” 

“This girl,” You chuckle, squeezing her ass as you switch your positions. You love that fact that she never wore panties at home, easy access for you. Pulling her shorts off her waist, softly kissing as you go down further, the feeling of her silky smooth skin under your fingertips. She watches you as you reach where she wants you. Your tongue darting out, slowly licking up her clit, working throughly on her folds.

Her breathy moans fill the room, “F-fuck daddy,” her hands latch onto your head as her hip buckle against your mouth. You eat her out like she’s your last meal, her taste is addictive. Always the sweetest. You look up at her, her chest heaving, “D-daddy I’m going to fucking cum~” She screams out as her juices flood your mouth, “Fuck fuck fuck~” She screams out, her grip on your head tightens. She lets go of your head, trying to catch her breath, “Holy shit.” 

Tuesday

She has a schedule today, which you join her for. Your eyes never leave her as she walks around in that short leather skirt. You know that she knows that she has you falling over yourself. She teases you, slowly lifting her skirt higher and higher before dropping it back. The black leather contrasted her milky skin, your eyes trace her legs. The thought of her legs wrapped around your waist as you bury your cock in her runs through your mind. She looks over at you, a smirk plastered on her face.  

“Oppa what are you thinking about~?” She asks, you stare at her beautiful eyes. She knows what you are thinking about, she just wants to hear you say it. 

“Nothing Gaeul,” You don’t want to give her that satisfaction. A slight pout comes across her face for a split second as she stands up, strutting her way over to you. Your eyes fall back down to her legs. 

  “Come with me real quick oppa,” She grabs your hand and pulls you out of the waiting room. She ignores the stares as she drags you towards a very quiet area and into the maintenance closet. Pushing you against the wall, her hands work on your belt. 

“What are you doing?”  You ask her as your eyes get used to low lights. 

“It’s gonna go like this daddy, you are going to pump me quickly full of that delicious cum of yours and I’m going to perform with it dripping down my legs,” She smiles innocently up at you. Moving around her, pushing her against the wall, hiking up her skirt. She giggles feeling your rough hands squeezing her thighs, you kick her legs apart slightly as you slide your cock into her pussy, “Fuck~ always so big~.” 

“Crazy bitch,” You mutter as you start thrusting, thanking the fact in your head that she is always wet for you. 

“You love me for the f-fact that I’m a crazy bitch~” She’s right, both of you know it, “Now pump your cum into me~.”

Wednesday

“You know Gaeul, there’s a new article about you,” You hand her your tablet and she starts to read. 

“It’s just a bunch of speculation about white liquid running down my leg,” She laughs, “The virgin netizens can’t even tell what cum looks like.” 

“They are going to find out, some are already saying that it’s cum.” 

“If you were going to be so worried about it, maybe you shouldn’t have taken my panties.”

You sit there for a second, “Fair,” standing up, you grab a towel and walk to the bathroom. You turn around and look at her following you, “ Why are you following?” 

“We’re taking a shower are we not?”  

“I am,” You point to yourself before pointing at her, “You’re not.” 

“You know I’m going to join anyways so hurry up,” She skips past you stripping in the process. You chuckle to yourself, joining her in the shower. Your hands go on autopilot, roaming her body.  The hot water running down between your body and hers adds to the sensation. Her hands reach behind her, wrapping around your cock stroking ever so softly. Leaning her head back, she captures your lips in a kiss as she strokes your cock faster and faster. She gets on her tippy toes, getting your cock into her. Shuddering as she starts to fuck herself on your cock. Her hands gripping onto your forearms as your grip onto her hips.  Your tongues are still dancing around one another, your thrusting meets her hips going deeper and deeper every time. 

“Maybe we should get out of the shower?” You ask as you feel the water get cold, her wet hair matted to her face. Her breathing is erratic, she simply nods. You reach over, turning off the water, lifting her up as you don’t want to leave her empty.  Falling onto the bed, “That's better~.” 

Thursday

Sitting in your office, you can’t help but check your phone every few seconds. You hear your phone ding, you look hoping it’s something from her. It is. You open it quickly, a video starts to play, you watch as her fingers bury themselves and spread her little pussy apart, her juices drip from her fingers. She brings the camera up to her face, “I miss you daddy,” She takes her fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean. The video ends, you move around in your chair uncomfortably. Soon another video arrives from her, pressing play, her fingers are buried again inside of her. Seemingly it appears like the video before it but as she brings the camera back up, she lets Wonyoung suck her fingers clean. Wonyoung stares straight at the camera, winking. You push a button at your desk locking the door to your office. Fishing your cock out of your trousers you snap a few pics and a video sending them her way. Something the two of you have always done especially during the start of your relationship. 

Her reply came quickly, but for you it felt like it was ages. Her wet pussy plays on full volume from your phone's speaker, finger blasting herself as she squirts all over the hotel’s bed. Her legs shake as she drops her phone. Quickly getting her bearings back she picks up the phone, “I need that big juicy cock in me right now.” 

Friday

You rush home after work, she should be back now. Getting up to the apartment, you punch in the code quickly. The smell of your favorite perfume of her’s linger through the place. Tossing your jacket to somewhere you don’t give a fuck. You make your way to the bedroom, the only room with the light on in this place. You open the door more, laying your eyes on her. The black lingerie that you love so much, hugging her figure. 

“Hi daddy~” She smiles as she crosses her legs sitting on the edge of the bed. You ignore her, stripping down, pushing her back to the bed, throwing her lace panties behind you. Lining your cock up with her entrance, “Someone is eager,” She says as you slam your cock in, she gasps as you stretch her out and fill her to the brim. You grip tightly as you push her legs closely to her head as you start to piston fast and hard, your eyes never leaving her face watching in glee as her eyes flutter and roll back. Her pussy tightens as you get deeper and deeper touching her womb with your tip. You watch as her stomach bulges as you plow her. Her mind is malfunctioning as she tries to look at you, yet she fails every time as your cock reaches her womb.  Her legs as she starts to squirt, you normally stop and let her ride it out but you keep going, using her as the toy she is, “FUCK!” she manages to scream out gripping the sheets, “Fuck me daddy! Fucking use that pussy!” 

“Such a fucking slut,” You slap her, keeping up your assault on her body. 

“Only for your use, I’m your toy daddy!” She gets out before she spazzes again, only adding to the mess she did earlier.  Gripping onto her hips lifting her ass off the bed, you continue to use her. Her thighs recoil as they meet your thrusts that reverb through her body.  Her hands move to the headboard. She doesn’t mind being used by you, she always wants you to use her. She feels as if that’s her purpose and she loves every second of it. She feels your cum as you fill her womb with your first load, a bright smile etches across her face. You slowly pull out, your cock still hard and throbbing but you elected to give her a little break. Her eyes are glued to your cock that is glistening with her juices. She peeks over to see that clock is 12:05 am, “It’s Saturday daddy~” 

“What about it being saturday?” You smirk as she gets on her knees turning her ass to you, shaking it ever so slightly. 

“You need to fuck me right seven days a week Daddy~” She giggles as she feels your hands take hold of her hips, shoving your cock back into her. She feels every inch throbbing inside of her, the warmth of your cum in the pit of her stomach. She tries to keep herself up with her arms that soon give out as you get back to using her. Her face buried in the sheets as you reach over pulling her short hair, pulling her up using it as leverage as you make her body malfunction again and again and again. You let her go after using her again, her body convulses on the bed. The sun peeks through the blinds, lighting up the room. She starts moving again as she leads you to fuck her everywhere, the bathroom, the kitchen, living room, the balcony. Your cum has dripped on nearly every surface in the apartment, the two of you take a break, chugging water.  The spree the two of you have been on since Friday has made a mess everywhere. Now going through Saturday, the two of you aren’t done. She slams herself down on your cock, the couch being one the favorite places to fuck. Her hands gripping tightly onto your shoulders as you watch as she rides you, she’s been at it for the past 20 minutes. Not that you care, you love it.  Her eyes are tired yet still filled with lust as she keeps going faster and faster. You hurry up her orgasm by thrusting up meeting her hips, her legs shake as she reaches her high and give out. She wraps her arms around your neck, trying to catch her breath. She moves her hips ever adamant that she continues to please you. You’ve lost count of the amount of loads that you gave her. 

“Daddy,” She says quietly and tiredly, you look at her, “Use me please, use every hole please daddy~”

“Of course my darling, there’s still a day left.”

[serafilms]

song 35! candy (nct dream) + nishimura riki (spotify wrapped event)

honestly, today's the day, i’m gonna break up with you, i’m going to go see you, hope you'll understand

closest to a happy niki fic we’ll get i guess 😢 but happy birthday to the coolest guy on the planet (a year younger than me and still eating up my whole life’s achievements in one fancam) 🥳 requested by @sammm5225

“I love you.”

Riki freezes. What. Why did I say that? Did I just say that?

He did, in fact, just say that, and his face flushes as yours does too.

“W-what?”

Well, he has to commit to it now. “I love you,” he repeats.

Your cheeks redden even further and he can’t help but feel his stomach flutter. “I love you too,” you say, and Riki knows he’s absolutely fucked.

Because there’s no way he just said that, not now, not the day when he was supposed to break up with you.

Nishimura Riki woke up this morning with a warm feeling in his chest. He felt different today. The sun was shining on his face and the air was crisp and he felt light as his feet touched down on the floor. It was a good day, as good a day as any, but something was different about it. He checked his phone and saw a text from you.

Y/N: hii are we still on for today??

Right. Your date at the park today. He felt a twinge of guilt. He totally forgot about that, if he was being honest. He realised now that he’s barely even thought of you the last few days. Was that why you were asking?

Part of him wanted to cancel, because at that moment, Riki just didn’t really want to be around you. Not that he dislikes you, but he thought he’d rather stay home and just chill while watching a movie, or go to the dance studio or play football with his friends.

Riki looked at himself in the mirror in his room. His eyes shifted to the polaroid stuck in the top left corner. It was a photo of the two of you. You’re both smiling and you have a peace sign up next to your face, while his arm is looped around you and his hand is pinching your cheek on the other side.

He smiled at it with some fondness, but even that wasn’t enough to stir his heart. Nishimura Riki is not the type to make impulse decisions. But he does like to base them off of the logistics, and the fact was that he didn’t think he felt anything for you anymore. He still cared about you for sure, and he hoped that you’d still talk sometimes, but the jig was up. The expiration date on your relationship had passed and he thought that today might be the day to throw it away.

He picked up his phone and sent a quick affirmative text. Short and sweet, but not enough to make you think he was super excited for it. Because he was not excited, of course! What kind of psycho would be excited to break up with someone?

“But it is a beautiful day,” he admitted to himself as he walked down the street. The park wasn’t too far from his house, and he wanted to enjoy the time to himself on this lovely walk. Then, as he walked under the shade of a tree, something dropped right in front of him. He looked down and saw a tiny puddle of white and green liquid, right in front of his shoe. Bird poop. Riki stared down in disbelief. Well, thank god it didn’t land on him. They say this is good luck anyway, or something like that.

He stepped over it with a wrinkled nose and continued to walk down the street with his hands in his jacket pockets. By the time he arrived at the park, he could already make out your figure waiting on a bench. You were wearing a parka and your nice jeans, and your hair was neatly styled, and Riki felt a little bad that you put so much effort in. He’d try and let you down easy, he thought.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Riki, hey!” you greeted him with a pretty smile and stand to meet him. When he approached, he felt a jolt of shock when you grab his hand and lean towards him. Before he could stop you, you’d kissed him square on the mouth. Something tickled at his heart and he blinked in surprise before regaining his composure. Okay, this is fine. You’re fine, Riki. Be normal.

“I- uh, do you wanna go get some ice cream?” he asked. Yes, back on track. He’d get a jump on the gun so once he’d broken up with you, you would already be equipped with some dessert to console you. Maybe that’d soften the blow.

“Sure,” you beamed.

Riki led the way to the ice cream truck. He ordered your favourite for you without thinking, and regretted it instantly when you gave his hand a squeeze and leaned into his side.

“Aw, you two make a cute couple,” said the ice cream vendor as he handed you the ice cream.

“Thank you,” you said back.

Yeah, thanks a lot, ice cream guy, Riki thought bitterly. This was not going to be easy. But he knew what he wanted, and he had to stay strong.

As the two of you made your way to a spot under the tree where you usually sit, he steeled himself. He could totally do this.

His ice cream was left untouched as you both sat on the grass and he looked at you happily eating away. Okay, here goes nothing.

“Hey Y/N? I need to talk to you about something.”

You looked a little surprised at his sombre tone but you nodded anyway. Riki’s heart was beating very fast and he’d starting to panic a little bit. Okay, a lot. God, I’m about to go into cardiac arrest. He could see the headlines now. Nishimura Riki dies of heart failure at 18.

He looked out at the park, the grass green, the sun shining above him. The sky was so clear, so beautiful, and his heart seemed to stop for a moment, almost as if being rebooted before it started back up at a mostly normal pace. Something shifted inside him and he wasn’t sure what it was, but he was turning and looking at you and suddenly you looked like the most beautiful person in the world.

Your eyes were wide and glistening like some sort of anime character and your lips looked so pink and kissable, and now his mouth was opening before he’d even realised it.

“I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He’s speechless. You’re blushing and he can feel himself doing the same. Well, he messed that up. But it’s okay. He can work with this. Nishimura Riki swears he will never leave your side again. That’s a promise.

once again happy birthday ni-ki ‼️‼️ AND HAPPY CANDY SEASON EVERYONE START LISTENING TO CANDY YOU CAN ONLY STOP ON DEC 31ST 🍬

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | three.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, we all know seonghwa is a dick but he pulls something that makes him even more of a dick (if that's even possible?), yunho 🥺, we finally say hello to yeosang!!

"Thank god lab was cancelled today. Can finally eat a meal in peace." Soobin sighs. "Here." He shoves his fries over to Chaery. "Too full now."

"Yay!" She claps as she takes the plate and begins to chow down on the rest of Soobin's curly fries. "They're so good. I can't believe they're already out of this when the cafeteria barely opened 30 mins ago."

"There's visitors on campus getting lunch so—" Seungmin shrugs. "Visitors getting free food and leaching off of us poor college students."

"At least the frozen yogurt machine is working!" Chaery adds.

"For now. They'll probably eat that shit up and end up breaking the machine, too. You know, visitors doing what visitors do best."

"Stop. Be nice." You scold him. "They're literally just high school seniors."

"Yeah.. so, visitors?" Seungmin furrows his brows. "I said what I said." You snort just as you finish up your frozen yogurt cup and place it down onto your tray.

"I heard that new mochi donut place opened in downtown." Soobin nonchalantly adds as he scrolls through his phone. "We should go before practice."

"We should." Chaery squeals. "I wholeheartedly agree with you for once!" Soobin furrows his brows at her before [playfully] threatening to take back his fries.

"Are you driving? I'm kinda low on gas." Seungmin asks.

"Yeah, why not?" Soobin shrugs, being the first to stand and drop off his tray. "Meet us at the library after class, Chaery?" The rest of your group follows and agrees in unison.

"Mm, sure. Guess I'll just wait around there, then. I do need to get some homework done so I can study all night." Chaery adds before looking at you. "Hey, you're seeing Yunho in class today right?"

"Sure am."

"Gonna sit next to him?" You chuckle.

"Chaery, sorry to break it to you, but that one time was a coincidence. He just didn't have anywhere else to sit."

"Whatever you say. I'm sure you'll find him in the same seat today."

"What are you, cupid?"

"Whatever you want me to be. As long as I can get you the fuck away from Park Seonghwa." She pretends to gag, making you laugh.

"You're too much."

"Call it what you want, I just care about you." She swings her arm around you as your group walks over to the library. It's quite busy at this time— lots of foot traffic, with people in and out of classes or hanging out. You, Soobin and Seungmin bid farewell to Chaery as she heads into the quiet section of the library to get work done, while the three of you head upstairs to your classrooms. There's still about 5 minutes to spare, more than enough time for you to head to your seat and settle in before class. So, you do just that— head to your seat and settle in. 

Except to your surprise, Jeong Yunho is sitting in that same seat next to you. 

You pause in your steps for a second before continuing to walk over, observing as he types away at his laptop. You're sure he can feel you coming, but he doesn't do much to acknowledge you until you take a seat. He glances over at you with a small smile, muttering a soft:

"Hi." 

"Hey Yunho."

"How was the rest of your walk?"

"My walk?" You raise a brow before it clicks in your head. "Oh, right! With Chaery. Yeah, it was good. How was yours?" You chuckle as you take out your notebook. "Were you able to get some sleep that night?" You remembered. Such a minor detail for Yunho, but you remembered.

"Uh, yeah. Enough to suffice." 

"Good." You chuckle. "By the way, thanks again for sending me that stuff. It's super helpful."

"Glad it is." Your eyes glance up to Dr. Nelson walking in and setting his things down on the front desk. Your smile fades when Dr. Nelson begins class and starts talking all this nonsense about a major paper assignment.

"Might have to bother you again for more help with this later." Yunho chuckles a bit and shakes his head.

"You're not a bother. I don't mind." He says close to a whisper. You give him one last smile before diverting your attention back to Dr. Nelson, jotting down some notes about his topic of the day. 

Class goes by as it typically does, with you being able to work with Yunho on another in-class assignment. He asks about the rest of your afternoon, and you tell him about your plans with friends, dance practice and your evening class. He simply nods before explaining that he'll be working on some other projects for the remainder of the day. It falls silent a majority of the time you're working with him, however you don't mind keeping up the conversation. He's easy to talk to, and quite frankly, you don't find Yunho the least bit intimidating or awkward.

At least, you couldn't pick up on it during your interactions with him.

You're just hoping he's fond of your company, too. Hopefully, you don't annoy him— especially when you ask for help.

"Don't work too hard, okay?" You say as you pack up your things and start to head out of the classroom. Yunho follows shortly after, slinging his backpack strap over his shoulder.

"Mm, I'll try. I do have lots of things to cross off, though."

"Would you like me to get you a mochi donut to give you some energy?" He laughs.

"That's very nice of you, but no thanks. I'll be good."

"Okay. Suit yourself." You tease before waving at him one last time. "See ya around?"

"Yeah." Is all he responds with. He watches as you meet your friends and head downstairs, with Chaery waiting for your group at the bottom of the steps. He smiles a bit when he sees you hug her like you haven't seen her in years, becoming fond of how good you look being happy.

You should be happy.

He doesn't know much about you yet, but he does appreciate your energy and how kind you are around him. 

Meanwhile, you're enjoying the walk down to the lot with your friends. You're happy to be reunited with your bestfriends, class wasn't too bad for the first time in ages and you're off to get some good mochi donuts. But of course, you've come to learn that these things don't last, and they don't last for one reason only—

"Hey." Seonghwa says, catching you as he walks out of the gym. "Can I talk to you for a second?" You sigh as you slow your pace, letting your friends walk ahead.

"Seonghwa, I don't have time. We're literally about to leave."

"Just 2 minutes." Your friends look back at you, Chaery making it very obvious of her distaste for him. He doesn't care much though, because what Seonghwa wants is what he gets. He won't stop until he gets it. "Please, 2 minutes."

"Fine." You cross your arms. "What?"

"You're still upset?"

"Why wouldn't I be, Hwa? Tell me one good reason."

"I said I was sorry. We were just talking. I didn't know I couldn't talk to my classmates."

"Right. Just talking even with your other classmate who stepped out of your car that morning, too?"

"Baby." He groans a bit. "She just needed a ride. Why do I have to explain all of this to you? You know I wouldn't do that."

"Unfortunately, no. I don't know. I don't know what you're up to when we aren't together."

"And I'm telling you now. Stop listening to other people and assuming. Just talk to me and ask me." He says. "I hate when we're like this. I don't want you mad, and I just wanna move past this." He actually sounds a bit worried, but you know better than to just let your guard down right away because he has hurt you before. He has done things 'behind your back.' He has made it very clear what you were to him. "Besides, it's not just me. That whole thing with Yunho—"

"No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to drag him into this." You shake your head. "This is such a waste of time, and we're just going in circles. I need to go." You turn but he gently grabs you by the wrist to stop you.

"Okay, okay. Baby. I'll stop. I'm sorry." There he goes again. At this point, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing else to say, and you're not sure what else to do. Seonghwa is going in circles and you know it's because he's sorry that he got caught;

Not because he is truly and genuinely sorry about being a dick and treating you this way.

"Y/N, let's go. We don't have much time before practice." Soobin calls out, his eyes glued on Seonghwa.

"I really need to go."

"I'll come pick you up tonight then, okay? After practice." You don't say anything— don't do anything really— besides give Seonghwa one last look before turning on your heel to head back to your friends. "I'll be there." He says as you continue walking, letting out a deep sigh.

"Sorry." You climb in next to Chaery in the backseat and buckle in, with Soobin driving out of the lot.

"It's cool. We should just go so we can get back in time. Hyunjin will never let it go if we show up late." Seungmin says.

"We'll just shove a mochi donut in his face, he'll be okay." Chaery responds, texting away before turning her attention towards you. "Babe, what was that about?"

"He was just trying to apologize for how it's been."

"How.. what's been? He's always been this way so what's the difference?"

"I don't know."

"Are you seeing him later?"

"I guess."

"He better make that the best damn apology anyone has ever seen." 

"Let's hope so." You give her a pursed smile and shrug. 

Soobin takes the quick drive into downtown, pulling up to a parking spot just around the corner from the new mochi donut shop. There's a few people waiting in line outside, but it moves quick. The four of you fall in line, each chiming in about how the day went and anything new that's happened. Soobin starts to discuss plans for Christmas break that'll soon peak around the corner— explaining how he plans to go home and spend time with his baby cousins who will be in town. You find out Seungmin and Chaery also plan to go home every now and then. For you, you're not really sure what your plans are. Perhaps you'll fall in the middle since you do love seeing your mom and older sister, however the space and freedom is always nice.

The line continues to move bit by bit until your group is finally at the front. Seungmin orders two boxes to bring to the studio, while the rest of your group orders individual donuts to try out. Before eating your donut, you snap a picture and immediately think about Yunho. You second-guess texting the photo to him, but you do it anyways— hoping it will give him some kind of boost of energy for his evening.

Which, is fair. Because Yunho is in the library already struggling to get through some of this project. 

you: here's your donut! i'll eat it on your behalf.

Yunho chuckles a bit to himself before responding.

yunho: thanks. 😊 really appreciate the support.

you: hopefully you can feel the boost of energy from here!

yunho: already do!

You giggle and set your phone into your pocket before continuing on with your friends, mentally preparing for your own evening of practice and class.

Yunho makes his trek to the back parking lot like he usually does at this time, not expecting many people to be around. It's exceptionally chilly tonight that he sucks in a sharp breath to prevent his teeth from chattering too much. He does a little shimmy too, hoping it'll shake the feeling off from his bones until he gets to his car.

God, this walk couldn't be any longer.

As he finally arrives to the back lot, he catches you sitting at the same bench that he saw you sitting at last time. He lets out a breath and shakes his head, slowly walking to his car to give Seonghwa some time to make it to you before he climbs in.

Too bad that doesn't fucking happen.

He tried, he really tried to walk as slow as he could in this cold weather, but he couldn't prolong it any further. He pops his trunk and tosses his bag in, contemplating what his next move is when he sees you wiping away at your face. You're crying, and sitting in the cold— it's a damn shame he can't molly-whop Seonghwa's ass into the next lifetime right at this very moment.

"Fucking dick." He mutters to himself when he climbs into his car and drives over to the entrance, quickly hopping out to jog over to you with his extra jacket in hand. You don't really notice him though [and he doesn't wanna scare the hell out of you], so he stops at a certain distance before clearing his throat. You turn to him with watery eyes, but you manage to put on a tiny smile for him anyway. Probably to try and hide the fact that you're crying over Park Seonghwa, but it's too late. 

He knows.

"Yunho, hi." You wipe at your face once more. "What're you doing here?"

"I was just about to leave, but I saw you sitting here."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about me. My ride is.. coming." You pause a bit in between words.

"You sure?" Yunho cocks a brow up and you nod. No.

"Yes." You lie anyway. Truth be told, you know Seonghwa isn't coming at this point but you still hold onto hope. It's been close to a fucking hour and you ridiculously hold onto hope. You glance at Yunho but his facial expression shows that he doesn't believe you one bit. 

He knows, he knows.

So, he gestures towards his car and purses his lips together.

"It's freezing. If you really wanna wait for him, you can wait in my car until he gets closer." Is all he says. Wow, he really knows. "I just can't let you wait here any longer by yourself." You look at him and immediately know through his look alone that he's not gonna let this one go. You simply give him a curt nod before standing. He extends his arms out when you get a little closer, draping his jacket over your shoulders. It's a thick zip-up, and Yunho's scent lingers on the fabric. He smells good, you think— hints of an earthy, woody cologne he uses, mixed with laundry detergent. "You can wear my jacket for now to warm up."

"Yunho, you really don't have to."

"I do." He says in a gentle tone. He swings his passenger door open, allowing you to settle in before hopping in the driver's seat. He instantly turns up the heat before sitting back and scrolling through his phone, picking a song on his playlist to play softly in the background.

"He's not coming." You say close to a whisper as you fiddle with your fingers on your lap, Yunho cocking his head to the side to look at you.

"I'll take you home then."

"No, it's alright. I can call my roommates—"

"We live in the same community, it's not a problem Y/N." He chuckles.

"Right. Thank you." You look up at him and he gives you a toothless smile before driving off. It's a little awkward, embarrassing even, that you were caught crying over somebody who didn't deserve the tears. Somebody who stood you up and left you in the cold, somebody who didn't even care to text or call. Somebody who is probably getting busy as we speak—

Yeah, definitely undeserving.

You almost wanna cry again as you look out the window, feeling so incredibly small and stupid for this shit. But, it's like Yunho knows what's going on in your head, what you're feeling like. He doesn't have to ask, and quite frankly, he's pretty pissed himself that Seonghwa could just continuously leave you out in the cold like that. Who the fuck does that?

"You deserve better." Yunho says, running his finger across his bottom lip as he continues to keep his eyes on the road.

"I know."

"I don't know the whole story, and I can't say I understand, but you can't keep hoping Seonghwa will change for you. He's an absolute dick."

"Yeah, he is." You admit it with a whisper. Yunho won't say anything more though, he didn't necessarily pick you up to lecture you. 

"Is there anything you need before going home?" You shake your head.

"No, just wanna get home and get comfy." 

"Okay."

"I definitely need to get you lunch now." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"You don't owe me anything."

"So, you don't wanna have lunch with me tomorrow?" You look at him all doe-eyed and he can't help but smile bigger. You're cute.

"Never said that. I just don't want you to repay me for anything."

"Just this once?" You pout a bit. You're so cute. "We can go to that new brunch place in town."

"If you wanted to hang out, you could've just asked." He smirks and you let out a small snort.

"Funny." You turn to him. "Seriously. If you're free, let me buy you lunch. At least something to say thank you for keeping me warm and out of the cold." He nods.

"Sure. I have a good break in between classes tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll just text you when I get out of my class then." You lean your head back against the headrest and stare out the window, exhaustion slowly starting to hit you. "By the way, that literature review you helped me with? I got an A on it."

"Sweet. Nice to know I can be of help." You chuckle.

"You're a lot of help." Yunho smiles to himself as he continues to drive, a comfortable silence falling in the car for the rest of the way. 

When he pulls into the lot, he snags a parking spot near his building just because he knows he'll walk you over to yours. It's a small, tightknit community, and the walk to your building is merely across the parking lot, but it's his priority to make sure you get home safely. He does a slight jog to open your door before popping the trunk to grab your things, handing you your bag with a soft smile on his face.

He's cute.

"Well, I'm there, so.." You point towards your building. "See you tomorrow?" He shakes his head.

"Come on, I'll walk you."

"Yunho—"

"It's a quick walk."

"You do too much for me." He looks at the ground and lazily kicks at the fallen leaves.

"I don't think so. This is the bare minimum, and it's quite obvious someone hasn't been putting in the effort." He sucks on his bottom lip while looking at you.

"You can say that."

"I don't mean to say this in an attacking manner or anything."

"No I know, Yunho. I know you wouldn't do that." 

"Good." He stops in front of the stairs that'll lead you up to your unit.

"Thanks for everything tonight."

"Anytime."

"Goodnight Yunho, walk safely." He lets out a small laugh.

"Goodnight Y/N." He watches as you slowly walk up the steps, only turning when he feels satisfied enough to leave you. 

"Oh, Yunho!" You call for him around the corner of the steps and poke your head out. "Your jacket?"

"You can just give it to me tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight!"

"Night." He chuckles, digging his hands into his pockets as he walks off to his apartment.

Per usual, he steps in and hears his roommate yelling at his computer screen while locked away in his room. His roommate is cool and all, but they talk here and there; not too often. Yeosang is usually minding his own business with his own group of friends, in and out of the apartment with the occasional guest over. Other times, he's locked in his room while playing games. He cooks ramen a lot, and he typically asks Yunho if he wants some— which is nice of him, and he's grateful. Yunho is okay with being in his own company for the most part. As a matter of fact, it's less of a headache that way since he doesn't have to worry much about others around him. He's always been quiet and more reserved, moreso just for the sake of his own peace. He doesn't go out of his way for people, so he finds himself chuckling at the fact that he pulled all that shit for you. Not saying you weren't worth the trouble, but it felt so out of character that he wasn't sure what he was trying to do here. Though, he can say he does find comfort in your company and he can't say that for a lot of people. It's easy for him to feel relaxed around you even though he hasn't spent a lot of time with you outside of the classroom. It's just who you are and how you carry yourself. Your aura, your personality.

It's nice, refreshing really. You don't have to try to be these things, it comes naturally.

Suddenly, Yeosang's door swings open and he's walking out in a baggy black tee and sweats. Yunho decides he'll cook up some spam.

"What's up, dude." Yeosang grabs a water bottle from the fridge.

"I'm about to cook some spam, do you want some?" Yeosang shakes his head.

"I'm good, thanks. Had dinner earlier." Yeosang looks at him with a brow cocked up. "Surprised you didn't grab anything on your way home?"

"Was gonna but got caught up with something as I was about to leave."

"Something or someone?"

"Someone." Yunho shrugs.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What, no?! I just ran into Y/N and she was having a rough night."

"Y/N? The junior messing with Park Seonghwa?" Yeosang says and Yunho rolls his eyes. Unbelievable. You can't even spell your name without Seonghwa nowadays.

"Uh, yeah her." 

"Surprised that's still a thing." Yeosang does a slight head tilt. "He must have some feelings, right? I've never seen him hold onto someone for so long the way he does with Y/N." Yunho shrugs. He doesn't really wanna talk about this right now, let alone think about you and Seonghwa. Because what does Yeosang even mean? Feelings?

The truth is that Seonghwa is a dumbass and that's that.

He doesn't do feelings.

"He left her out in the cold for close to an hour, so. Highly doubt it's that." Yunho says with a subtle hint of venom in his words. Yeosang catches on though, even when Yunho tries to avoid eye contact and continues to quietly cook away at his spam.

"Poor girl. She really deserves better." Yunho finally looks at him for a brief moment, but gives him a quick nod before returning his attention to the pan.

"Sure you don't want any?"

"Positive. Thanks." Yunho shrugs just as Yeosang begins to head back to his room. "Alright, calling it a night." Yunho nods in acknowledgement before Yeosang can shut his door. Once he's finished cooking, he shuts off the heat, cleans a bit and takes his bowl into his room.

The only lights bouncing off of the walls are from his computer screens. There's something soothing about sitting in a dimly lit room at this time of night, especially when Yunho finds his mind wandering. He's eating and catching up on his show, but he's not really catching onto anything that's happening or what's being said. Before he can even think about what he's trying to do, he picks up his phone and pulls up your message thread. He chuckles to himself a bit re-reading the message you sent him with a picture of your mochi donut.

Cute.

He doesn't really think much about other people, but he's wondering if you're okay. He still can't believe Seonghwa left you out in the cold, and he knows you have been crying.

No, he needs to give you space. You give him some attention and now he's acting up.

No, Yunho.

Chill the fuck out.

He sighs to himself and shoves his phone to the side, erasing every possible text he could draft in his head because he won't send you a text. He'll let you be. He'll give you your space, let you be in your own peace.

Besides, you might prefer to recover alone. Recharge alone. Be alone.

He hopes you are okay.

He hopes you are warm and comfortable, and that you aren't crying over Park Seonghwa's dumbass.

Hopefully, sleep finds you.

But tonight, he doesn't think sleep will find him.

"Hey." You shuttle into the apartment and toss your things aside. "Chaery and Soobin aren't home yet?"

"Hey, no. They have some studying to get done and wanted to do it at the library." Seungmin's eyes glaze over you. "I thought you were gonna be with Seonghwa?" He asks as he cooks himself a cheese quesadilla.

"Well, he never picked me up."

"What?" Seungmin furrows his brows as he angrily shuts off the burner and turns to you. "I swear I'll fight him. It's freezing outside. Doesn't he know that?"

"I know, Seungmin. Please don't tell Soobin or Chaery, I don't wanna hear it right now." He sighs heavily and shakes his head as if to dismiss his thoughts.

"Fine, whatever. I just hope this finally gives you enough of a reason to stop messing with him." You look down, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent. "So how did you get home? Whose jacket are you wearing?" He comes closer to inspect you.

"It's.. Yunho's."

"Yunho? How did you get Yunho's jacket?"

"He saw me waiting out in the cold and gave me his jacket."

"He took you home?" You nod.

"Yeah, when I told him Seonghwa wasn't gonna come."

"I'm really glad he was there."

"I am too. He even walked me to the steps before leaving."

"God, Y/N. You've gotten so used to the way Seonghwa treats you, and to be honest, I hate it. He's a piece of shit. Just date Yunho." You sigh. 

"Not you, too."

"I mean, I'm partially joking, but Yunho has already done more for you in these past days than Seonghwa has the past months. You're my bestfriend, and you know I love you. You're way too good for him."

"Yunho and I are just friends, classmates even. We don't really talk like that."

"Still, he manages to help you when you need it the most without asking for anything in return. Says a lot about his character."

"I'm just gonna go shower." Seungmin sighs when he sees you hauling your things into your room. "I still have some homework to get done."

"Do you want me to make you some food?"

"Sure, whatever you whip up, I'll eat." You give him a small, but somewhat defeated, smile. "Thank you."

"Of course." And with that, you head in for a long, hot shower, unsure of how to feel tonight. You knew you needed to stop messing with Seonghwa, but you weren't sure why it was hard for you to cut him off. Maybe it was the attention you received behind doors, Seonghwa being a different Seonghwa that showered you in love, care— even though you knew he didn't entirely mean it. That he didn't genuinely care or feel for you, that he can't commit to you and only you.

He likes the idea of you the most, not you.

But Seonghwa wasn't the only thing occupying your thoughts, it was definitely Yunho, too. You couldn't help but wonder where all of that came from when you didn't know much about him and he didn't know much about you.

Maybe you were used to the way that Seonghwa treated you. It's not that Yunho was doing too much, it was the fact that you already expected less.

You were used to less.

Not even the bare minimum.

Hopping out of the shower, Seungmin has a hot bowl of rice with a sausage and egg omelett sitting on your desk along with a piping hot cup of green tea [drenched in honey, just the way you like it]. You smile and dig in, scrolling through your phone to see a notification from Seonghwa—

seonghwa: fuck baby, i'm sorry. something came up

seonghwa: where are you? 

seonghwa: i'm so sorry about everything, i know we've been fighting lately and i haven't been my best towards you. i'll make it up to you, i promise

seonghwa: baby please, talk to me. can i come get you now?

You roll your eyes and toss your phone aside, pulling out your laptop so you can finish up your homework. You don't feel like responding to Seonghwa, and you don't feel like thinking about him any longer.

He's already taken up too much of your time and effort.

You slip on your headphones and power through the rest of the assignments you had left. It wasn't much, and it doesn't take long, so you begin to draft out bits and pieces to your literature paper. 

Suddenly, you think of Yunho again.

A small smile is etched across your face when you remember his company tonight. You really are truly grateful he stepped in and brought you home.

Maybe he's on his walk, you're not sure. But, you don't want to be a bother.

You just hope he's okay and that he's taking care of himself after tonight. 

He deserves it.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji [bold = can’t tag 🥺]

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 4 - You've Got A Friend

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Set a couple of months after Chapter 3, Benedict and you are becoming best friends.

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: discussions of sex, swearing, publically faked orgasm

Word Count: 3.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, we see vignettes of Benedict and reader's growing friendship. And well... this ends with a twist on the famous scene. Yep. You know the one. Enjoy <3

21 months ago (3 months later)

Benedict Bridgerton is one of your best friends. 

If you had uttered that sentence to yourself ten, even five, years ago, you would have laughed your head off. But it's funny how life turns out. In the months after you reconnect, you start to meet up regularly, at least once a week, sometimes more, and you text almost constantly. Becoming each other’s crutch as you rebuild your lives as single people. 

On the surface, you couldn’t be more opposites, but he’s matured, and you find his company the most soothing and the most fun. Be it while having dim sum in Chinatown, wandering Victoria Park or helping him set up his new warehouse flat. There's always a tiny frisson, an undercurrent of something between you that, to be honest, makes it more appealing. A pilot light of heat that could, maybe one day, become a bonfire if the timing were right. You are not sure it ever would be, but it would be stupid to deny to yourself that it's there. There is certainly no one you like to verbally spar with more.

He FaceTimes you as you lay in bed on a regular Tuesday in September; it's become a habit. Just jabbering away until one of you falls asleep. Talking about everything, anything, and something nothing, watching a show or film together in digital silence. A comforting presence. 

“What are you watching?” he hums, scratching his beard.

“Don't judge me,” is your instant response, and he chuckles.

“Tell me,” his voice drops an octave in a way you are sure he knows has an effect on you. Physically. A little shiver down your spine. Bastard.

“Titanic,” you mutter as he bursts out laughing.

“You hate that film!” he exclaims, and you wish you could throw a pillow through the screen.

“That doesn’t sound like not judging!” you bemoan but concede he is right.

“Channel?” he asks, still giggling.

“Four… wait, are you going to watch too?” 

“Of course, then we can argue about it in real-time,” something in that offer makes you feel comforted. “It's near the end!” he decries after briefly pausing to change channels.

“How would you know?” you lobby, and he fixes you with a pointed stare.

“Please. This was Gen’s favourite; I had to sit through it five bloody times.”

“How is she?”

“No idea. She didn't speak to me after the breakup. Besides, wasn't she your friend?!”

“Yeah, but we lost touch,” you sigh, “sometime about seven or eight years ago, she moved to Bristol, and then we sort of drifted.”

He hums noncommittally, watching the movie, “So you’re saying Rose should not have saved him by sharing that door,” he states as the final scenes unfold onscreen before you both.

“I never said that!” you argue.

“Yes, you did! In the car on the way from uni!” he smirks.

“No, I didn’t!” you volley back indignantly.

“Fine, okay, you didn’t.” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean, that dick was so good, they fucked one time, and she returned to the ocean to say goodbye to it 70 years later,” you point out drolly.

He tosses his head back and laughs so hard you can’t help but join in. 

“Fuck that’s the funniest take on this film I’ve ever heard,” he wheezes.

“Right?! I can’t take credit; it's a comedy routine; I’ll send you a Spotify link,” you offer.

“Look forward to it,” he giggles.

The urge to ask him if he’s ever had sex so good he’d go to the spot it happened to commemorate it is on the tip of your tongue. You’re almost surprised he doesn’t use the opportunity himself. He’s definitely grown up.

“Are you sleeping okay?” he asks, rubbing his eye wearily.

“Doing better,” you admit, “not completely there, but better than I was.”

“Do you still sleep on ‘your’ side of the bed?” he inquires with air quotes.

“No. I’ve taken to sleeping wherever now,” you answer truthfully.

“Wow, you’re doing so well,” he sighs. “I feel weird if even a leg wanders over to ‘her’ side… and this isn’t even a bed we shared.” 

“Yours was a marriage, mine merely a long-term relationship,” you try to justify why he might still be more impacted than you.

“Same difference, except you don’t have a lawyer bleeding you dry arguing about shit…. Urghh, I need a drink.”

“No, you don’t,” you argue, “stay in bed and drink your water.”

“You can be very bossy sometimes, you know?” he opines but reaches for his glass of water on his bedside table as he says it, doing exactly what you suggest.

“It’s for your own good,” you point out.

“I know, I know. I suppose I should thank you. You’d be surprised how little men give a shit about their friends' well-being, even their best friends.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you fire back. “You’re all clueless idiots with the EQ of a shrimp.”

“Wowwww, okay,” he mimes being shot in the chest, “please don’t take out your Dr Tom issues on the rest of us unsuspecting shrimps.” It’s in jest, but you can hear the underlying argument and know he’s right.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You don’t have the EQ of a shrimp. I’ll give you, hmmm, a crawfish,” you offer with a giggle.

“Oh great, thanks,” he deadpans, “Could you not at least give me lobster?”

“Okay, fine. I hear lobsters are very smart, so you flatter yourself there, but yes, okay, lobster Ben. Please go get some sleep.”

“Alright,” he yawns, “can I call you my lobster too?”

“Why?” you frown sleepily, bemused.

“Some lobster thought it could predict the World Cup winning team—always thought it was right. That’s very you,” he stares pointedly down the phone camera at you.

“Fine, I’m your lobster too,” you stick out your tongue a little.

He chuckles as you settle deeper into your pillow, flicking off the TV as the credits scroll. Even you can acknowledge having a person to talk to is so comforting right before sleep. 

“Goodnight, lobster Ben,” you yawn, your eyes drooping.

“Goodnight, my little blue lobster,” he murmurs.

“Why blue? Cos I’m sad?” you hum, eyes closed.

“No,” he chuckles gently, “I have my reasons,” he says quietly, and you pass out as the call drops off. 

——

“So I had that dream again,” you mention offhand as you wander down the Southbank from Waterloo a few weeks later. It’s a crisp October day; you’ve taken the afternoon off work to visit the Tate Modern—there’s some exhibit he wants to see.

“The sex dream?” he verifies, weaving around an old lady who shoots him a disapproving look.

“Yup,” you confirm, kicking through the colourful pile of leaves under one of the trees. “So we are going at it up on this roof terrace, and this time he flies away just before I orgasm. I mean, what the fuck is that!?”

“Let me get this straight: you’re having sex with some mythical half-man half-dragon creature?” he seems completely bamboozled by the idea. “And just before you can come, he flies off?” 

“Yeah. What do you think it means?” you ponder.

“I think it means you need to get laid,” he laughs.

“Great fucking insight Sherlock Holmes,” body-checking him with your shoulder. “What about you? What’s your latest sex dream?”

“It’s always the same one. There’s this woman. She walks in, just wordlessly strips off my jeans and climbs onboard,” his cheeks have a high dot of pink that looks adorable, almost as if he’s embarrassed to say it.

“What does she look like? Are we talking Halle Berry? Helen Mirren? Florence Pugh?”

“I dunno… she’s just sort of faceless,” he gestures vaguely.

“Hmmm. Unusual. So then what happens?”

“I always wake up,” he sighs, staring into the middle distance, over to the Millennium Bridge.

“Wait….,” you stop walking and grab his arm, “...a faceless woman strips off your jeans and sits on you, and that’s the only sex dream you’ve had… ever?!” You can scarcely believe it.

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous, I know. I’d like to state for the record that I’ve had a much more varied actual sex life. And daydreams? Top fucking notch. But my unconscious, sleeping dreams? Very not sexy or just this one recurring one.”

“Does it ever change? At all?”

“I mean, sometimes I’m wearing trousers, not jeans?” he offers, looking nonplussed as to what else to add.

You cannot think of anything to say to that, so you just shoot him an exasperated look and walk away towards the entrance. How on earth can he get to sleep at night if that’s all he’s got to look forward to?

“Dinner after this?” he offers as you stare up at the giant sculpture suspended in the main Turbine Hall. It's been a fun few hours of wandering the exhibits.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t,” you obfuscate, feeling sheepish as you bring your gaze to him.

“Hooking up?” he inquires with a comedy eyebrow wiggle.

“Maybe,” you deflect, tucking your hair behind an ear, somehow bashful to talk with him about your first date in six years. “I’ll have to see how the date goes first.”

“A date? That’s wonderful!” He seems genuinely enthused, a big smile claiming his whole face.

“Yeah, I mean… I hope so? Let’s see. It’s been a bloody long time,” and saying that, nerves flare in your belly. “Not sure what I should wear, to be honest,” you admit, glancing down, self-conscious of your jeans and simple black top. “You think this is okay?”

“Of course it is,” he dismisses casually. “You look as beautiful as you always do,” the compliment just falls from his lips as if you asked about the weather. It still gives you that slightly gooey sensation under your ribs. Bastard.

——

The next evening you’re three cocktails down at Bar Americain on a night out with some work friends when your phone buzzes. 

BB: How was the date?

Y/N: He cried about his custody arrangement at the table.

BB: Divorced dad, eh? How fast did you scarper?!

BB: Guess it will be a while until you can get that orgasm, lol.

Y/N: ... I err, didn't?

Y/N: Oh, I got one.

BB: You slept with him?!? 

You always love to push it with him when you are tipsy, be a little daring with what you say. So you have your tongue in your cheek, wishing you could see his face when he reads what you are about to reply.

Y/N: Yeah, I mean, to be clear, the crying didn't turn me on. Not one of my kinks. But he had these nice hands, and I could tell from his jeans something good was going on down there. I was right. 8 out of 10, very nice. 

Y/N: And he didn't grow wings to fly off before I had an orgasm, either…  so win!

BB: How does one hang up on a text….?

Y/N: 😜

Five minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

BB: Wait. Do all women rate the dicks of the men they sleep with?

Y/N: I don't know all the women in the world, Ben…

BB: How is that an answer?

Y/N: 🤷‍♀️

“Ant…” Benedict calls, tossing his phone aside on his kitchen island and going to consult his brother across the room. He’s pretty sure that can't be all women, can it?

——

“I don't understand this at all,” Kate frowns, resting her weapon on her shoulder like a lumberjack.

“What don’t you understand?” you reply, staring at the target at the other end of the cage. You've decided this is an excellent cathartic way to do girls' night—just flinging axes at Whistle Punks after a hard work day in early November.

“You think he's attractive?” she pauses to applaud your throw as it smacks just below the bullseye.

“Yup.”

“You get on really well and Facetime and text every day?”

“Yup.”

“He’s straight?”

“Yup.”

“But you’re NOT fucking?” Kate quizzes, shooting you a look as she steps up to the plate.

“Nope.”

“I literally don't understand,” brow creasing as she takes her aim.

“Why can't you be proud of me? Not just crawling into bed with him on the rebound. He’s become a really close friend. Plus, I get the straight man’s perspective on things. It's really helpful now that I’m back on the market again. I can talk to him about sex stuff, and he's honest,” you argue.

“Sounds wrong to me…”

“Kate, you are fucking a married man,” you point out her hypocrisy archly.

“Yeah… and that's the point! I'm actually fucking him. What sort of Bert and Ernie shit do you and this Ben have going on?!”

“Please. Bert and Ernie are lovers,” you answer scornfully.

“Well, if they were, all the more reason you guys should be?!” she practically yells, hurling her axe with such gusto the manager comes to check on you.

——

Benedict takes you for dinner in the run-up to Christmas at some place so trendy it doesn't even appear to have a name. It's also where something transpires that haunts your spicier dreams for weeks. 

As usual, it starts with you both squabbling.

“Oh please, women fake them all the time,” you dismiss, stirring your soup.

“I don't doubt it,” he agrees, “but men can do it too.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Please. Half of men can't even fake enthusiasm; there's no way a man could fake an orgasm,” you argue with finality.

His eyebrows shoot up briefly as you take a triumphant sip. He puts his fork down and wipes his face with a napkin. Then he makes a low rumbling noise. Perhaps the food doesn't agree with him. When he does it again a second later, you get concerned.

“You okay?” 

He doesn't answer; he just makes the noise again. It's a low growl that almost reverberates around in his chest cavity, and something about it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Is your food bad?” you ask, a frown flitting over your face.

Again no answer. Benedict just makes another noise, louder this time. It’s definitely closer to a moan, and he takes a deep breath rolling his head to one side as if he's stretching his neck and really enjoying the sensation. Somehow you can't look away; you just stare at him, spoon in hand. Wondering what the hell he is doing, but captivated at the same time.

“Mmmm, that's it, baby,” he groans, and your insides are suddenly aflame. You've never heard his voice go into that register, it's low and throaty, and you feel a flush creeping up your chest. 

“Don't stop,” he moans and throws his head back with a gasp, his Adam’s Apple bobbing hard, and it's then you realise what he is doing. He is faking an orgasm. Right here. In public. In a bloody restaurant.

“Okay, Ben,” you hiss, “fine, you win the argument,” attempting to get him to stop.

But it doesn't work. His head tips back down, and two dilated pupils bore into yours, a hazy ring of blue around black.

“Do you like that?” He’s staring you down as he says it, panting slightly, his jaw firm, challenging, goading.

You want to crawl into a ball and disappear. How much of that is because your fellow diners are starting to look over versus how much your body is rioting is undetermined.

“Yesssss,” he hisses, closing his eyes and biting his lip. 

“Ben,” you warn, but again it falls on deaf ears. There is nothing you can do to stop this. Mortification routes you to the spot—that and the pounding in your ears and the little frisson of static running down your spine.

“You feel so good, baby,” he groans with a tiny tilt of his body; it's enough to make your imagination run wild—places it shouldn't. Dear god, this isn't right. He is your friend, one of your best friends; you can't be thinking such things.

To distract yourself, you look around at your fellow diners apologetically, shrugging as if you don't understand what he is doing. Thankful there are no kids in sight.

“Look at me,” he commands gruffly, and without thought, you obey; your eyes tear back to his. He is doing this deliberately, goading a response from you, from your body. And something in your snaps, you won't let him win like this.

“Go ahead, do it,” you mutter through slightly clenched teeth, so quiet only he can hear it. If he is going to do this, damn him, let him. 

His hands wrap around the edges of the small table separating you, long fingers splaying out, and then his short blunt nails scratch down the wood. You don't think about those big, shapely hands doing the same thing on your body, no, definitely not. He is groaning and panting hard now, and it's utterly convincing. You can just picture him on top of….. STOP IT! You screech your mind to a halt. Don't go there.

“Come with me,” he snarls softly, just for you, and part of you wants to whisper back: yes, please, but instead, you bite the corner of your tongue to prevent a sound from escaping.

Then he turns theatrical, open hands thumping the table, grunting hard and rhythmically, and you just have to sit there and take it, so to speak. Just endure this weird mix of utter embarrassment and confusing arousal. Knowing you are flushed from head to toe. You daren't look around at the rest of the place, the buzz of conversation mostly dying out as they watch this formidable reenactment.

“Yessss, yesss, yessss,” he chants, and with a few convulsive body jerks and a long groan, his head lolls back, and he exhales a ragged breath loudly. 

There are a few seconds of silence, and then he clears his throat, straightens up in his chair, shoots you a shit-eating grin, picks up his forks and jubilantly takes a bite of his dinner. He doesn't even bother to say anything; he knows he has won that argument, fair and square. You are still too shocked and disconcerted to speak.

“Sir, Ma’am,” the maître d' is suddenly at your table, “we would like you to leave, please.” his tone is decidedly stern. After a brief exchange of glances, you both burst into spontaneous giggles.

As you are bundled out of the door unceremoniously, not even being asked to pay, you hear a man ask a waiter a question that makes you laugh even louder.

“Did he have the daily special?”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[aidaronan]

24 for the Steddie/Spotify wrapped prompt!

Welp. This one got away from me and is less a ficlet and more of just... a fic, but here we go! 24 - Scary Kids Scaring Kids - Watch Me Bleed

Lucky Number 42

Tags & Warnings: Blood, Time Loop, MCD but it’s a time loop so…, maybe it's supernatural or maybe it's maybelline It’s March 27th for the 41st time, and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sickly colors of the Other Sky. He won’t forget the blood either, the way it stains Eddie’s shirt and mats up his pretty hair. The way it gushes through Steve’s fingers as he tries to hold it all in yet again, as though if he just squeezes tight enough, it’ll finally—finally—work this time around.

“Guess we’ll try again, huh?” Eddie smiles, red pooling in the cracks between his teeth. “Fuck, Stevie, why’s it always so cold?” Nearby, Dustin sobs uncontrollably. Steve won’t forget that sound either. It’s seared into his brain, all of it. The same day over and over and over again, both of them stuck in it together. Changing everything, changing nothing.

“What is it you told me, Eds? 42 is the answer, right?” Steve squeezes his hand tight, his heart so full of love and yearning and clogged-up grief that he can feel it all spilling painfully into his chest. “That’s gonna be it for us. Lucky number 42.”

But whether he heard him or not, Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s gone again, his eyes empty, his hand limp. Steve sinks into the dirt and hugs his knees, letting his forehead fall against his folded arms.

He has a mental tally running, everything that’s worked, everything that hasn’t.

There’s really only one direction left, the one direction Eddie wouldn’t entertain when Steve suggested it 28 days ago, 24 days ago, 15 days ago, 7... The more they fell for each other, the more vehement Eddie got about how that particular avenue was off limits, ‘un-fucking-entertainable, actually.’

It’s the only way though, has to be. There isn’t any other way left.

Taking a few deep breaths, Steve raises his head and crawls for Dustin, still crying, completely unaware of how many times they’ve been here before.

“I love you, Dustin. I love you and I’m sorry your childhood got absolutely shit on, and I hope you know you deserve better than all this.” Steve will say it again on the next loop, too, when it’ll actually (hopefully) count. But he needs to say it now. For himself.

“This can’t be happening,” is Dustin’s choked-out reply.

Steve wants to say that it’s okay, that he’ll fix it. But he and Eddie have also talked about how maybe all of it’s some kind of personal hell built just for them. So maybe there is no fixing it.

All Steve knows is he can’t watch Eddie die again, and he can’t watch anyone else die in Eddie’s place.

So…

So.

“I know.” Steve holds onto Dustin’s arm, waiting for the girls to make their way back to them so they can get out together, so Steve can shower and fall into bed and do what needs to be done. “I know,” he says again. And he does know. Fuck, he knows 41 times over.

It’s exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes later—it always is, give or take five minutes—when Steve finally lays his head on his pillow., curled protectively around Robin’s back. It’s another half hour or so before she cries herself to sleep.

Then countless unquantified minutes before Steve manages to drop off. On the edge of consciousness, he dreams a voice quietly speaking the number, “two.”

#

When Eddie asks the plan for the day, Steve lies. They sneak into the woods near the clearing and they have each other wholly, primally, sex forged from bonding in a way that only they could ever understand. And then they plan.

And Steve lies.

He suggests they rehash Day 13 with Day 42’s knowledge, plus Day 17’s solution for saving Max. He talks Eddie through the hang-ups, through the objections, feeling a sickening mix of resignation and guilt with every inch of ground he gains in convincing him.

In the end, Eddie nods. “Let’s do this then. Lucky number 42.”

“The answer to the universe, life, and, uh, all the other stuff.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh and looks at Steve fondly, cupping his cheek. “How many roads must a man walk down indeed.”

When they kiss for luck, Steve focuses on every single millisecond, on the way Eddie’s lips feel, on the hands on him—small of his back, back of his neck—and on the feeling of Eddie’s hair sliding hairspray-rough through his fingers. Every little breathy sound, every note of birds calling, bugs flitting.

Life.

It may not have been everything Steve wanted, but he got to have this. For one fleeting moment, he got to fall in love and to be part of a small family of misfits. Some people never got that lucky.

“I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too.”

It feels like a blink before they’re outside of the trailer, Dustin locked in the bathroom in Right-side-up Hawkins. It’s just them and their makeshift armor—spear and nail bat against the swarm.  

Eddie looks at him and nods.

Steve looks back and chokes down a sob, summoning all the bravery he possesses. “Eddie. I’m sorry.”

“Wh—”

This is the easy part, years of sports and fighting all culminating in this moment. At full speed, Steve plows into Eddie, tackling him to the ground, covering his body with his own.

They’re already biting by the time Eddie reacts, fighting like hell, pushing with all the strength of someone who spent years hauling around band equipment and theater props. Eddie’s strength is mostly in his thighs though, a force he uses to drive the rest of him. If Steve keeps him on the ground long enough…

“You motherfucker. You motherfucking fuck! You fucking son of a goddamned…” A feral scream, a shove that Steve counters by squeezing Eddie’s arms tight against him. Eddie growls, broken and desperate, “Stevie, please.”

They’re both fighting hard and with all the love in their bones. Apologizing over and over, Steve forces his fingers deep into the dirt, gripping the roots of rotten hell-vines hard even while the bats chew, even while he cracks his fingernails, and his hands bleed along with his body.

He’s halfway dead by the time the bats drop, and he knows it.

Eddie pushes him off and gets onto his knees and Steve can’t help but smile because Eddie is gloriously and beautifully okay. There’s a bite on his arm along with a few scratches from their tussle, but that’s it. He’ll make it this time. He’ll make it.

“I did it,” Steve says, falling onto his back despite the fact that it’s nothing but open wounds. “I did it. You’re alive and no one else is gonna…”

Eddie replies with a broken scream, with hands that reach for the bloodied hole on the side of Steve’s neck, that try to turn him over to see where else they need to press.

“Don’t.” Steve grabs weakly at his wrists. “Please, just… Let me. See if it works.”

“Fuck you, Steve.” Eddie blinks out several tears. “Fuck you. I said not this. Not this.”

“It’s the one thing we haven’t tried, Eddie. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to go, you know. Why we couldn’t break—” Steve coughs wetly. “God, it really is cold, huh?”

“Just… Just stay, okay, Stevie. Be stronger than me. Hold on, and that’s how we’ll break it, yeah? With you living.”

In the distance, Steve can hear Dustin finally bursting out of the trailer, crying his name.

He blinks up at Eddie’s brown eyes and smiles at the warmth of his hands on him.

Somewhere else, he can hear voices, unfamiliar and new.

“Oh,” Steve says, the edges of his vision going black, swallowing up Eddie’s face. “So there really is something else after all.”

#

Death, it seems, is darkness. Not terrifying but restful. Not cold, not warm either.

Just floating, quiet and peaceful.

“Two.”

A voice flows out of the void, a voice Steve thinks he may have dreamed once or even more than once. It’s quickly followed by more, all speaking rapidly from everywhere and nowhere.

“Four in cold blood. Undoing.”

“Two from love’s sacrifice. Healing.”

“And so it is. See how it all knits back into one.”  

“Then it is done. Send him back.”

Steve tries to open his mouth. “Where—?”

He never finishes the question.

#

Steve blinks awake to the rhythmic sounds of a machine beeping.

He slowly turns his head to find Robin curled up in a chair next to him, snoring softly with a book steepled open in her lap.

“Rob?”

She startles awake and locks eyes on him before exclaiming with a smile that goes instantly tearful, “Holy shit. Steve.”

From a lumpy bag by her feet, she unearths a walkie-talkie, nearly flinging it at him in her haste to use it. Her hands are shaking when she brings it to her face.

“Hey, uh, everyone. We’re… We’re having a good hair day.”

There’s a chorus of voices, all of them expressing some kind of joy and relief, all of them saying they’ll be there as soon as they can.

“Already in the van. Munson over and out.”

He’s there within five minutes, hair in a messy bun that implies he might have genuinely thrown it up while steering with his knees.

Standing in the doorway, he pauses, eyes on Steve. Steve feels like his entire stomach might drop out under the weight of that gaze. If he’d had any reason to wonder if Eddie remembered all the loops, he’d have no doubt now.

“Hey Rob, can I have a minute with Stevie boy here before the entire Scooby Gang shows up?”

“Uh…” Robin looks back and forth between them, furrowing her brow at Steve before getting up. “Yeah, sure.”

She softly closes the door on the way out, and just like that they’re alone.

“I should kill you all over again for what you pulled, you know?” Eddie says, sitting down and reaching for Steve’s hand.

“You should.”

“But then again, here we are.”

“Here we are. How long was I…?”

“Dead? Or here? Because you did die. I checked your pulse, listened for a breath, fucking everything. And then the girls showed up and out of the blue, you twitched a fucking finger, so Nance and I… You’ve been in the hospital for a week.”

“I had a dream. Maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. I don’t know.” Steve thinks about it again, the infinite peace of the void. “There were, uh, voices, and I think they were saying you and I both had to be willing to die for each other. Like specifically two people in love. To undo Vecna. Are the gates…?”

“Closed, but that could be because Nance and Robin flambéed him alive.”

“Yeah.”

“More things in heaven and Earth though, Stevie. We did just repeat March 27 for a month and a half. Maybe someone was looking out for us. Or they just really fucking hate Vecna. There are many options for motive here.”

Steve rubs at Eddie’s knuckles with his thumb. He hadn’t even taken the time to put his rings on. “So many.”

“It’s over though,” Eddie says. “All of it. The suits cleared my name in five minutes and Hopper ripped the local PD a new asshole. Only question now is…” Eddie gives the spot where they’re holding hands a pointed look. “Now what?”

Steve thinks for a second, mouth twitching at every stolen happy moment in those 42 days of hell. Every smile, every kiss, every sneaky sweaty fuck. Every little conversation that made him laugh, made him feel, made him fall. “Do you remember Day 19 when I asked where you’d go if you ever left Hawkins?”

“I do. By then we’d already given each other hand jobs so I had exactly zero qualms about saying I’d go to San Francisco where I could be gay as hell and also make the heaviest of metal.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “I’m assuming I have to stay in this hospital for a little longer and probably sign, like, another pile of papers that say I won’t tell anyone the government broke Hawkins because they were experimenting on little kids. But after that, why not?”

“Why not? Just like that? ‘Eddie, let’s move in together and also let’s do that in California.’ That easy, huh?”

“We just lived through the end of the world 42 times, Eds. Why the hell can’t it be?”

Eddie laughs quietly and looks down at his lap, shaking his head, a few tendrils falling out of the bun as he does.

Outside of the room, Steve hears a series of sneakers squeaking on linoleum. The door bursts open and Eddie quietly pulls his hand away. But he’s smiling ear to ear when he leans back to let a gaggle of teens throw themselves semi-gently onto Steve for half-hugs.

“Well okay then, Stevie,” Eddie says over the sound of six other people talking at once. “If that’s what you want.”

[solarwynd]

idk how you can be so positive when the drop in ktown4u is more than 20k! not a small difference that can be overlooked! i also think armys besides being burnout from the continuous releases won't support jm because this time around hybe is even worse not even giving amazon links for purchase or a EU album version eligible for UK charts when they did for everyone else, and armys now are too reliant on the push jk got and if they have to work a bit they just won't! it's frustrating because why does jm have to go through this? and he still gets hate to this day when he did incredible numbers with face debut, #1 on bbh100 but they just focus on the drop, LC still charting on US spotify more than a year later but even armys buy jjks bs about being vpns, so imagine is his second album numbers drop significantly... and I don't see armys big accounts tagging hybe and geffen to give us links and EU exclusive

“but the point is that only pjms and some jm biased armys acknowledge he is being actively sabotaged by hybe, jjks are especially loud in declaring he is somehow the company's favorite and they get hit tweets saying that and that reaches army spaces too, and people outside the fandom don't know he is being sabotaged they only care about his low numbers to use as drag material” -anon

So you want me to be pessimistic and sow negativity and panic like y’all and some other people have been doing?

I’m aware that the ktown numbers have dropped from FACE. And I can’t say it shocks me. The fandom is still a mess, there’s an active boycott, and a lot of armys are still bitter at Jimin. It can’t be helped.

And honestly the way y’all are centering your anxieties about how MUSE will perform around how antis will use the numbers to drag Jimin is real lame to me cause why do y’all care so much? No matter how Jimin performs, antis would drag him. I’ve seen multiple Lisa stans call him a flop in the past 24 hours, but I know it’s not true so I keep it pushing. lmao. And we know big armys accounts will not be moving for Jimin because it’s been made clear that they don’t fuck with him so why are y’all still looking at them to support or even care? Jimin has his own fanbases who have been doing the tagging, and there are still army fanbases helping out with it too. The people who want to support Muse will support just like a ton of PJMS reactivated their accounts after how long to do so.

I’m not letting anybody ruin this release for me. Been waiting too long for it, so take this fear mongering somewhere else and up out my inbox.

[coneyislandbabey]

prologue; bug spray and bonfires and booze. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: alcohol, cursing

SYNOPSIS: This is the prologue to the Camp Wawayanda Lake series! You arrive at camp and reunite with old friends. There's a drunken bonfire, and Warren is suddenly, distractingly beautiful. word count: 2,079

NOTES: I'm so psyched for you guys to read this series! it feels like the perfect thing to write as summer comes in. I hope you love it! check out the official series playlist on spotify!

“Fuck! What did I do with my bug spray,” you muttered, sifting through the growing pile of random crap amassing on your bedroom floor. It was an amalgamation of stuff you had half-unpacked from college during the few days you’d been home, and stuff you’d been gathering to pack up for the summer. Daisy and Simone were due to pick you up any time now, and your duffel bag of summer camp essentials was still only half packed. 

“I can’t believe you’re already off again,” your mother said, suddenly materializing in the doorframe of your bedroom. She maneuvered through the mess to drop a can of bug spray in your open bag, and you shot her a grateful smile. 

“C’mon, mom, do you really want me moping around the house all summer, eating all your food?” you asked with a laugh. You spotted your sunscreen partially buried under a mound of sweatshirts from college, and tucked it away in your bag. 

“Actually, yes, I wouldn’t mind it,” she responded indignantly. 

“I know, mamma,” you said, standing up to press a kiss to her cheek. “But you know I wouldn’t miss a Wawayanda Lake summer for all the world.” 

“I know, I know. Don’t forget to say hi to Uncle Rod for me, alright?” 

“Of course,” you waved a hand dismissively. “And Teddy, too.”

“Very good,” she poked your nose. “Don’t forget to pack your shower stuff.”

“Shit! That’s what I’m missing,” you huffed, tottering through the mess in your room and out to the hall closet, where the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and soap you had bought specifically to bring to camp were waiting for you. As you made your way back to your bag, a car horn sounded from the street below. You unceremoniously dropped the bottles in your hands, making a beeline for the window. A cherry red Firebird was parked at the curb, Daisy’s familiar flaming head emerging from the driver’s side door. 

“Gotta go,” you announced to your mom, hastily zipping up your still-open duffel and throwing both of your bags over your shoulder. 

“Did you pack everything you need?”

“Guess I’ll find out! Bye mom, love you,” you grinned, dragging her into a quick hug before shooting down the stairs and out the front door. 

“My girl!” Daisy called as you emerged, throwing her arms wide as you emerged. You trotted down the driveway, dropping your bags on the sidewalk to launch yourself at her. 

“My hazy Daisy,” you grinned, arms still locked around her neck. “I missed you so much.” 

“You don’t even know the half of it.” 

“Where’s my Simone?” 

“Asleep in the passenger seat,” Daisy rolled her eyes. “Better not wake her when you get in. She almost bit my head off when I picked her up earlier.”

You laughed, ducking down to glimpse Simone’s sleeping form in the car. “She’s always so grumpy when she’s tired.” 

Daisy hoisted up one of your bags and you took the other, opening the back door and shoving them across the bench seat before climbing inside yourself. Daisy resituated herself in the driver’s seat, shooting you a grin through the rearview mirror. 

“Ready for another Wawayanda summer?” she asked. 

“I always am.” 

The ride up to Camp Wawayanda Lake was several hours, and you spent every minute with your head leaning against the open window, feeling the wind rush across your skin, singing along to the music blaring out of the radio. You watched as crowded suburbia turned into rural towns, as flat stretches of field turned into the winding road up into the mountains straddling the border of New Jersey and New York. With each mile that you traversed, you grew more excited at the prospect of everything this summer would bring. 

Undoubtedly, your closest friends in the world were those you had met at Wawayanda Lake. Some, like Daisy and Simone, you had met when you were children, attending summer camp together. The others, like Karen and Eddie, you had only met once you had all started working as counselors together back when you were sixteen. After days, it had felt like you’d known each other for years; never in your life did you connect with anyone that fast– even your college friendships paled in comparison. A part of you thought that Wawayanda Lake had to be magic in some way, the perfect conditions of summer sun and woodland isolation leading to you forging the most important relationships of your life. 

“We’ve arrived!” Simone shouted, breaking you out of your reverie. You shifted to look through the front windshield, catching a glimpse of the ancient wooden sign bearing ‘WAWAYANDA’ in faded white letters. A few minutes later, Daisy parked alongside a small group of other cars in front of the welcome building. 

“Looks like we’re the last to arrive,” you noted as you climbed out of the car, pausing to stretch your stiff limbs. 

“Yeah, we’re technically a little late,” Simone said, glancing down at her watch. 

“We’ll be fine, Roddy never gets mad at his little niece,” Daisy said, pinching your cheek as she walked past. You rolled your eyes at the gesture, following her and Simone up the front steps of the welcome building. 

Sure enough, everyone else was already milling around the main room, catching up with one another. You spotted Uncle Rod close to the door, back turned to you as he chatted with Teddy, and bounded over, scaring the shit out of him when you tackled him from behind in a hug. 

“Jesus fuck, kid,” he said, after realizing who it was who had accosted him. 

“Hello to you, too, Uncle Rod,” you grinned, detaching yourself from him in order to hug Teddy as well. “Mom says hello to you both.” 

“How is she these days?” Teddy asked, while in the background Rod muttered something about you nearly giving him a genuine heart attack. 

“Jealous that you two get to spend so much time with me,” you answered. “I’m very much in demand, you see.” 

“Of course you are,” Teddy chuckled. 

“Speaking of which, I’ve got places to be and people to see. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you winked at Teddy, hugged a still-grumbling Rod, and turned to your friends. 

“There she is!” Eddie said, the first to see you making your way towards everyone. He maneuvered around Karen and Graham to squeeze you in a hug so tight that it lifted you off of your feet. 

“Roundtree, wonderful to see you again,” you grinned, patting his cheek when he finally placed you back down on the floor. The next to reach you was Camila, whose hair was impossibly longer than the last time you’d seen her. You were enveloped in her familiar, comforting vanilla scent when she hugged you, a scent that could rocket you right back into memories of every previous summer of your life spent in this little stretch of woods. You made your way through Karen, Graham, and Billy as well, before looking around the room in confusion. 

“Where’s–” you started to ask, turning in a circle. You were cut off by the curly-haired boy you were seeking coming around the corner, grinning and already making a beeline towards you. 

“Warren!” you shouted happily, closing the distance between the two of you and launching yourself at him for a hug, completely trusting that he would catch you. His strong arms encircled your waist, clinging tightly as he spun you around in a circle. 

“There you are, angel,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was wondering when you’d get here.” 

“Manage to pass all your classes this year?” you asked, and Warren rolled his eyes fondly. You had teased him all of last summer for failing his writing requirement first semester because he slept through every class, having to retake the following semester. 

“Yes, mom,” he returned. “I learned my lesson and stopped scheduling classes before noon.” 

“I don’t understand you, Rojas. You wake up before eight in the morning every day when we’re here, but you couldn’t manage a ten-thirty class?” 

“Well, I don’t get to look forward to seeing you every day when I’m at Penn State, do I?” 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him on the chest and ducking your head to ward away the blush warming your cheeks. That only made it worse, when your hand made contact with the hard expanse of muscle that was Warren’s chest. You took a step back, taking him in as he told you about something stupid his college roommate had done. 

Warren had always been something to look at, even when you met at sixteen and he was scrawny and growing like a weed, but something had happened over the last year. It was like he turned twenty and his body said got it, we have to look ridiculously beautiful and grown up now. His hair was longer than usual, his curls deep black and shiny and unruly as usual. He must have started hitting the gym or something, too, because the way his t-shirt stretched tightly over his chest, arms bulging strong and tan from the sleeves, was almost lewd. 

Fuck, you thought. Every preceding summer, you had been able to convince yourself that you didn’t like Warren than anything more than a friend. Anyone can appreciate eye candy, right? At least, that’s what you told yourself when your gaze lingered too long on his bare chest when he was on lifeguard duty at the lake. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be able to lie to yourself like that this summer. And that meant you were totally fucked. 

Night came quickly after a long afternoon of running orientation for the crop of new, baby-faced sixteen year old counselors. As you walked them through the camp and explained their responsibilities, you marveled at how you possibly ever looked so young. 

Now was the time for fun. You all had exactly two days to yourself before the kids arrived: days that were meant for setting up the camp and making sure everything was in working order. But those nights, they were just for you. And like any adolescents alone in the middle of the woods, you spent them getting drunk around the bonfire. Rod and Teddy turned a blind eye to your antics, hoping you could get most of it out of your system before about a hundred children became your responsibility for the rest of the summer. 

The bonfire was already raging, reaching warm, orange fingers up toward the star-scattered sky. Counselors new and old (when did you get to be on the old end of things? Where had all the time gone?) gathered around, drinking a truly disgusting mix of whiskey and several other things that you didn’t want to know; Eddie’s invention, of course. 

You sat on one of the benches, at that giddy sweet spot of drunkenness where everything was warm and hilarious and you weren’t hammered yet. Camila was trying to teach Eddie and Graham an old Girl Scouts song– really, kind of morbid, about the Titanic– and you couldn’t stop laughing over the fact that they were so drunk they couldn’t sing a single note on key. 

“I would knock them both out of the water if I tried to sing it,” Warren said, dropping down to sit next to you. 

“Oh? So let’s hear it, then,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Can’t embarrass them like that,” Warren shrugged faux-apologetically, sending you into another fit of drunken laughter. 

As you quieted down, Warren bumped his shoulder against yours. “I missed you a lot this year.” The soft, low tone of his voice had an instant calming, sobering effect on you. 

“I missed you, too, War,” you said, turning to smile at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the firelight danced across his face, reflecting brightly off the sheen of his curls and brightening his eyes so much that it looked like the light was spilling out of him, not the fire. For the second time that day, you were confronted with how incredibly beautiful he was. 

“We better make the most of this summer, then,” he said. 

You hummed your agreement. “If we do, maybe we won’t have to miss each other so much.” 

“Lost cause,” Warren said, waving a hand dismissively. “I always miss you if you’re not right next to me.”

tag list: @iwantloveletterss @boredshit-shadow @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @lilyhw1 @graziellasnotes @nicostars @robinismywife @xxxlaura @hella-sirius @everyonesannoyedwithme

[formosusiniquis]

Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Eddie Munson is a music snob.

Sure, he listens to more music than Steve even knew existed. Sure, he can curate a playlist that gets you from Korn to Disney without it feeling jarring. Sure, he can give you a full college quality lecture on the history of modern rock and metal and how it can all be traced back to the blues.

But he’s also the same guy who brutally eviscerates anything that even approaches popularity. He’s watched Eddie drop bands the second their music starts making radio play because it’s a short trip to an album that’s been engineered in a lab for maximum radio play.

An educated music snob is still a snob is the point.

But the rest of their friend group is also a collection of snobs and bitches, so when Eddie suggested they do a Spotify Wrapped viewing party it quickly became an annual tradition. They all make sure they have the night off when the Wrapped drops, meeting up at Steve’s house where they spend the night stuffing their faces and roasting each other for the music that made up their soundtrack to the year.

Eddie the Snobbish is of course the most vocal critic.

“Girl in Red, Buckley, really? There is such a thing as leaning too far into the stereotype.”

“Get fucked, Munson, they’re my number five.”

“And your number two is Hayley Kiyoko, but she’s actually good so I kept her out of it. Honestly, it’d be faster to just shout from the rooftops that you’re queer.”

“Yeah, yeah, wait ‘til we get to you, Eddie.”

“I drew 7 so you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.

It goes like that all night. Eddie makes at least one comment about each person’s wrapped as the night goes on. But then everyone takes at least one crack at the others. From listen time to top genres nothing is safe and nothing is sacred. Sometimes the only comment needed is the sounds of nine other people shrieking in laughter because Accidentally in Love from the Shrek 2 soundtrack cracked your top 5.

“Seriously, Sinclair, the rest of it is so good!”

“I refuse to be critiqued by the same man I caught singing Nickelback last week.”

“Damn, seeing the family resemblance between you and Lady Applejack now.”

Sometimes his mockery is flavored like concern.

“William, the top .05% of Mitski listeners? Do you need help? Should we call your mom? This feels like a cry for help.”

“She’s classically trained, musically a genius. Sorry, we can’t all spend our time listening to Ozzy struggle through a basic melody.”

And Eddie isn’t afraid to get other people in on his snobbery.

“Ten bucks, Stevie, your little Dusty has Weird Al in his top 5.”

“I don’t make bets, I know I’m going to lose. That’d be like saying ‘I bet he’s going to have Neverending Story in his top 5’, it’s practically guaranteed.”

Robin’s not as afraid to get involved, “Five bucks, Neverending Story is his number 1.”

“Oh you’re on, Bucks, no way it’s not a parody.”

They’re both wrong, deciding that neither is out the money, and Steve wishing he had gone ahead and bet when it turns out to be a movie instrumental. “He can’t listen to music with words when he’s building shit, and he’s always tinkering with something in his room.”

“It was from the Neverending Story soundtrack, I still think that means I win.”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s always a big moment when it’s finally Eddie’s turn, he’s the whole reason they had to start drawing their places at random. He spends so much time talking shit about everyone else’s music taste that by the time his turn rolls around half the group is ravenous, a pack of feral dogs snarling at a feast before them,  ready to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The earliest bits are the most boring. The strange emotion tags are always a little jarring, though no one is surprised when spooky makes its way onto Eddie’s. It’s a little concerning just how much time Eddie is clocking on Spotify, “Over 40,000 minutes, Eddie, that’s almost an entire month.”

“How come your math is never that quick when you’re adding up your damage, Henderson?”

And then Spotify helpfully announces that Eddie Munson's most played song of the year is Head Over Heels by Tears for fucking Fears, clocking in at 267 plays. 

It could go without saying that all hell then breaks loose, but then not saying it makes it sound like a regular amount of hell is breaking loose. And not the kind of hell that can only come from a room full of people who show their affection through ruthless teasing and mockery finding a massive hole in the armor of someone who had spent most of their friendship unassailable.

It’s mean. It’s targeted. It’s the standard brand of teasing that this group is built on.

It would be a lot funnier if Eddie, someone who is normally pretty good about taking the same kind of shit that he deals out, didn’t look like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

The jokes all reach a logical end. The kids have a killer’s instinct when it comes to weakness, but they’re soft where it counts, and there’s not a joke in the world that’s still funny when it’s being laughed at instead of with.

And Steve, normally the first to tease Eddie about his dad rock playlist can’t think of a single thing to say that isn’t going to come out, “Why was your day with the most listens right after the weekend trip we took for my birthday?”

That wasn’t going to be, “Do you want this the way that I do?”

The rest of the reveal is standard, nearly 19 hours of playtime does put Tears for Fears in the 5th spot of Eddie’s Top Artists but no one comments on it. Steve doesn’t even make fun of Eddie for being the only person under 40 to still listen to Metallica.

Because he’s finally found something to say that isn’t going to come out, “Do you know someone else who only listens to new wave or do listen to that song and think about me?”

“I’m going next.” Eddie finally, finally, makes eye contact with him instead of staring out into the middle distance. Maybe his announcement does sound more like, ‘let me say it back.’

“Steve, you drew last. Nancy’s next.”

Nancy, who knows him uniquely. Knows him in a way that no one, except maybe Eddie one day, ever will. Nancy cuts through the bullshit decisively. “Steve can go next.”

“No appreciation for the rules, why do we even have them?”

Steve does not give a single shit about his wrapped outside of it being a source of amusement for his friends. His taste in music is as close to nonexistent as it gets and, really, if he’s going to listen to something he’s probably going to pick a book over music if he’s by himself.

Except this year.

The teasing is a little tamer now. Normally, Steve is happy to take the brunt of it. 

From Eddie picking at his lack of taste. “Pick a genre, Steve, god.” 

To the kids joining in because they want to impress Eddie, “Can you even listen to the playlist without getting whiplash? I Will Survive to Part of Your World, jeez.” Nevermind that they’re both basically power ballads, and Wheeler can mock but I Will Survive was the soundtrack to his break up with Nance and sometimes he wants to be both nostalgic and angry-sad. 

This year is quiet, like they’re worried they went too far with Eddie and now they’re afraid to take shots at their other favorite babysitter.

It’s fine. Steve has pretty much unfailingly had one song playing at any point anymore. Maybe it took him a little longer than April, but he knows without a doubt what his top song of the year is going to be.

Eddie takes the armchair for Wrapped nights, he’s the meanest normally and says he wants to be out of the direct line of fire of any noogies or Robin’s lethal elbows. It means Steve has to reach to kick the side of the chair to make sure Eddie is watching.

Rainbow in the Dark was Steve’s number one song this year with 171 plays.

And maybe it would be appropriate to say that all hell breaks loose once again. Steve wouldn’t really know, too busy staring at Eddie. He’s in the eye of the storm now, while chaos breaks out around him Steve can only wait to see how Eddie reacts.

Wonders if that pink blush is because Eddie realizes that the day he repeated it the most was right after he heard Eddie play it for the first time. Fell asleep to it playing on repeat, thinking about Eddie’s fingers and Eddie’s smile, drowning out the sounds of fireworks that still trigger panic.

"It makes me think of you," Eddie, brave and shy and only hiding part of his face behind his hair, answers the only question Steve needed answered.

"Yeah," he agrees, hoping it sounds less like a breathless demand for reassurance and more like, 'listening to this song all year was the closest I could get to imagining what it could be like having you.'

"Yeah." And Steve hears, 'I  still expect to be wined and dined, Harrington.' Maybe because it's the kind of silly request Eddie would make, or maybe he just likes giving the people he cares about everything he can.

"But seriously, Stevie, why the fuck is Careless Whisper in your top 5? It should be a crime for Dio and George Michael to be that close together."

[deandoesthingstome]

Night Moves

Chapter 3

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra Pierce)

Series Summary: When Walter Marshall is called to investigate a homicide by the railroad tracks, he quickly uncovers an unsettling pattern. Alexandra Pierce just wants someone to find out what happened to her friend. She has some secrets, too. And Walter’s going to uncover them.

Word Count: 2661

Series Warnings: In general, this series will depict assault, murder, stripping, hooking, rough sex, make up sex, fingering, oral (m and F receiving), p in v sex in various positions, self-loathing, failed relationships, smoking, drug use, drug addiction, general violence, and maybe some comfort. +18, Minors DNI

Chapter Warnings: Grumpy Walter, general police investigation discussion, social work, mention of failed relationships.

Disclaimers: I do not own Walter Marshall, Night Hunter (Nomis), or any other characters from that movie, but I do own this OFC (Alexandra Pierce) and these words. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header made by me, with pics found from Pexel.com and the internet. Dividers are not mine, but check out the masterlist for credit.

Playlist:  Night Moves Songs 8 - 11 Direct Spotify link here.

Masterlist

Walter shakes his head at Rachel with a frown and a deep crease in his brow as he steps through the door.

“Who was I trying to grab?” he asks, striding over to where Rachel has situated herself outside the bullpen. “Do we need to send a squad car out?”

Rachel heaves a sigh and rubs the bridge of her nose. 

“Alexandra Pierce. Says a friend of hers is missing, says she already tried to report it yesterday but that no one “gave a shit”, and wants to know what we're doing about it.” 

“What are we doing about it?” Walter widens his stance and crosses his arms in front of chest, tilting his head as he waits for Rachel’s reply.

“Well, I took down the particulars, but Ms. Pierce wasn’t interested in the standard answer of 'have you checked with her family?' Because apparently that was the same response she got yesterday and also her missing friend doesn’t have any family.”

“She seemed pretty upset on the way out. What’s the relationship if not family?”

“Says they know each other from the women’s clinic downtown, the one attached to the shelter. Ms. Pierce is a regular volunteer and her friend, one, uh…: Rachel flips her notebook open. “Trixie, Trixie McCabe. Hasn’t shown up in three days.”

“Okay, way to bury the lede, Rachel. ‘Trixie from the shelter’ sound like someone we might want to know about?” Walter glares at her with raised eyebrows and waits for the realization to sink in.

“Oh, fuck!” Rachel exclaims, a beat longer than Walter would have liked.

“Oh fuck is right. You got a number, an address for me?”

Rachel tears the slip of paper out of her notebook and holds it out for Walter. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe this didn’t click when she mentioned it.”

Walter takes a deep breath, desperate not to overreact and blow his top at Rachel. She’s not who his anger should be directed toward and he knows it. He reaches for the paper as he digs his cell out of the front pocket of his jeans.

The call rings to voicemail and he leaves his name and number with a message to call him back that he hopes sounds urgent enough.

“Alright, does she have your card too?” he asks, but Rachel shakes her head.

“She freaked out and walked before I could hand it over.”

Walter gives an exaggerated shoulder heave and eyeroll before dropping his arms to his side. It’s taking everything he has to control his temper at this moment, knowing he’s only just beginning to win Rachel’s trust again.

“What’d you say to her, Rachel? It’s not like you to upset a civilian reporting a crime.”

“I just asked how they knew each other and if her friend was a volunteer as well. She accused me of assuming Ms. McCabe was homeless and wondered if that was why no one cared to look for her. She started to raise her voice and I told her no one was accusing anyone of anything. I asked her to take a seat and try to calm down, at which point I’m sure you heard her exclaim and rush out.”

“Alright, well. I’m headed back out tonight after dinner. Gonna review those new files first. I’ll stop by her place on my way home and see if she’s around. Try to get some more information. You need anything else from me?”

Rachel shakes her head and apologizes again, to which Walter places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“It could happen to anyone. Let’s just keep working the case, okay?”

He can see that Rachel knows he’s sugar-coating for her and he can see she appreciates it. She gives a tentative smile and nod before he heads to his desk to grab the files.

He grabs some takeout on the way home and sits at the kitchen counter, inhaling the burger before turning his attention to the files. There’s nothing new. Same M.O. Same shady locations. Same outcome. Women harassed while trying to survive. His blood is boiling.

He’s got some time before the clubs really get going, so he stretches out on the couch and shuts his eyes for a bit, but the words and pictures in the reports are swirling in his head and he can’t sit still any longer. He realizes he forgot the drive-by, so he grabs his keys and heads back out, punching the address into his phone’s GPS.

He presses the buzzer for the apartment number and waits a solid minute before buzzing again. No answer. As he’s about to leave, the door opens and a young couple bursts through, giggling and paying no attention to the scruffy man lurking outside their building. He shakes his head, even as he grabs the door before it closes, sliding inside and taking the stairs two by two to the 3rd floor.

He knocks on 305 with heavy knuckles, then listens for any movement inside. He tries once more, then turns as 306 opens across the hall.

“What’s all the racket?” a little, old lady calls, head peeking around the door.

Walter flips open his badge as he steps across the hall and tries to make himself as small as he can.

“Ma’am, I’m Detective Walter Marshall with the Minneapolis PD. Do you know the woman who lives across from you? Any idea where she might be?”

“What do you want with Alex? She hasn’t done anything wrong. You just leave her alone. She’s a good girl.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure. I just have a few questions for her. Would you happen to know where she is tonight?”

“Tonight? Oh, dear. What time is it? Alex is usually home from school by now. Well, unless she has her other job to get to.”

“Do you know where she works?”

“Well, the University, of course.”

Walter takes a deep breath while he tries to make sense of what this woman is saying. She goes to school? She works at a university? She has another job? Or the university IS her other job?

“She works at the university this late at night?”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”

Walter takes another beat.

“Okay, well, do you know where her other job is?”

“Well why would I know that? What kind of trouble is she in?”

“She’s not in any trouble ma’am. She came by the station earlier and I have a few follow up questions for her. Look,” Walter grabs a card from his wallet. “Could I ask you to give her my card next time you see her? And please tell her it’s about her missing friend.”

The old woman reaches a papery skinned hand around the door and grabs the card tentatively, looking back up at Walter.

“What did you say this was about? What’s she done wrong?”

“She’s done nothing wrong, ma’am,” Walter holds in an exasperated sigh. “I just need to ask her some questions about a friend she reported missing. Could you give her my card when you see her?”

“Well she’s a good girl and I know she’s not mixed up in any trouble, so you just leave her alone.”

“Alright, ma’am,” Walter backs away from the door, realizing he isn’t going to get much farther here. “You have a good night.”

He dials Mick on the way to his truck, but gets no answer and then remembers Mick had a family emergency. He also remembers how grateful he was that the commander saw fit to let him run the investigation with just Rachel and some other canvassing officers for now. He knows it’s probably because “it’s just hookers” but he doesn’t care. He likes to work alone anyway.

I have to get out of here. I can’t take this pressure anymore. All the nagging and questions. Where’ve I been? Why am I getting home later and later? Why don’t I answer the phone? God, she never stops. Acting like she was worried about me when she just called to see if she could pick me up something to eat. 

I didn’t mean to hit her, but if she won’t stop running her mouth, I’ll stop it for her.

I need to think now though. I did a shit job and fucked up royally. Couldn’t clean up my mess, which I shouldn’t have to make anyway, but now I’m worried. Worried they’ll start looking for more. 

I need to figure out a more secure spot for the others. Or at least see if I can camouflage the area a little better so no attention is drawn.

I put the bitch’s phone and purse where they belong in the river, but I kept a souvenir. Ten of ‘em actually. Just a little reminder of how no one gives a shit about these anonymous cunts but me. Once I take care of the others, I’ll go back for it. She won’t find it. She’s so oblivious.

“You lost, honey? You look a little lost." Sasha sidles up to the bear of a man sitting in her section, who couldn't look more unhappy to be here. 

She’s sure he’s a cop. He has that look that says he wasn’t exactly pleased with the shift he’d pulled and she also thinks he looks vaguely familiar but can’t place where. He has definitely not been to the club before. She’d remember this guy for sure cause he reeks of exactly the kind of virile, commanding masculinity she craves. The kind that’s just barely tempered with a tinge of self-doubt. The kind she doesn’t find very often and certainly not here. These guys all think they’ve got something solid to offer but it’s usually blatant insecurity and misogyny masked by bravado. Which can signify a little danger but never the kind she looks for.

"You know me?"

Well that was odd, maybe he isn’t a cop.

"Don't think so. I thought you might … I mean, you’re not from here right? You don’t sound like you’re from here. Now, you don't look like you don't know your way around, but like, are you here for ...?"

"It's not personal. It's business."

"Right, yeah. Well, listen," her lips breeze past his ear while she bends seductively to give a better view of her cleavage. "Buy me a drink, lemme treat you nice for a minute or two, maybe act like you're actually enjoying yourself. Perhaps whoever you're here looking for won't notice you sticking out like a sore thumb."

"I don't..."

"C'mon, one drink. What's it gonna hurt?"

Sasha takes advantage of his hesitation and nods to Vic at the bar.

"We'll start a tab for you," she smiles, easing herself onto his lap sideways, one arm wrapping around his shoulder and the other reaching across for his hand on the table. Sasha moves it to her hip and presses a little. "Hold me tight now, wouldn't want to fall off this steep cliff here."

Sasha jostles a little with his chuckle, but he stills just as fast.

“You don’t like my joke?” she purrs into his ear. “Doesn’t feel like a joke. Feels like I sized you up just right. Now sit and talk with me while I finish this drink before I have to get back to work, okay?”

Sasha picks up the watery vodka soda Janelle has placed in front of her along with a soda for her mark. If this bar knew anything, it was how to cheat a customer but Sasha isn’t complaining. If she had to actually drink the full amount of liquor she convinced patrons to purchase for her in the course of an evening, she’d be flat on the floor in an hour and would never be able to step foot on the stage, let alone twirl around the pole with any kind of grace.

“I’m Sasha, by the way. Who am I toasting here?”

“Detective Walter Marshall.”

Fuck. Sasha chokes a little on her drink as she inhales too fast in surprise. She thinks about mentioning Trixie, but she's nervous now because if this guy is anything like the rest of the pricks down at the station, nothing she says is going to make any difference when she’s dressed like this. Plus the DJ is playing her cue song and she needs to get backstage in about five minutes. 

“Oh,” she swallows another sip and clears her throat, trying to stay calm to figure out why he’s here. “You need to talk to the owner or something?”

“I need to talk to whoever can help. Wondering if anyone has gone missing lately or if anyone suspicious has been hanging around the club lately, making anyone nervous.”

“Well, not that I recall specifically. Between you and I,” she leans in a little more to whisper in his ear, “most of these guys make me a little nervous.” She closes her eyes slowly at the way he seems to reflexively grip her thigh a little tighter, but he relaxes when she pulls back to look him in the eye.

Sasha wants to continue her conversation with the only person who has ever made her feel remotely safe in this club, and is a little amazed it took him all of fifteen minutes to do so with about three dozen words, but her time is ticking. Plus he’d never take her concern seriously. He’s not here for Trixie. He’s here for someone else.

She takes a final drink and slips off his lap, dragging a hand across his chest and arm. It’s a standard move. The dancers do it all the time when they’re trying to convince a guy to buy some private time, but she just wanted to be connected to him a little longer. The muscles she feels send a jolt of heat to her already pulsing core. This guy could do some damage for sure. 

“I gotta get to work, but it was nice to meet you,” she bends low again and smirks as he finally breaks, glancing down to view what she has on display. “Detective.” She licks her lips a little at that one, then turns to head backstage, hoping he’ll stay for the show.

Walter Marshall isn’t one for strip joints. It skeeves him out watching all these lonely bastards leer and ogle at scantily clad women, knowing full well they won’t be getting anything real out of the exchange. Knowing full well these women deserve better than to be hustling for dollar bills from guys who probably couldn’t get it up if they had someone who actually wanted to be near them.

But he stays a little longer than he should. He wants to see more of her. And he knows it is completely unprofessional, using the department's dime to build a picture of a woman he doesn’t know at all. Against every instinct he usually has about women who put themselves on display like this, he wants more of her.

Her candy pink hair is obviously a wig, but her tits are all real and gorgeous at that. She also had an amazing smile and he sorta wishes he’d smiled back at her. It’s a fantasy, he knows it. But he stays a little longer and shifts in his seat when she comes on stage. 

He can’t be sure, but it looked for a moment like she was looking right at him, smirking to see him watching. When she spins, her gaze is directed elsewhere for what feels like forever until she drops her back against the bar, legs hooked high, arms stretched wide before gliding down along her sides, cupping her own breasts, and eyes staring straight at him from her upside down position.

He really can’t take it anymore. He stands and hands a couple twenties to the server just passing by and nods down at his table where his untouched coke and Sasha’s half-emptied drink sit side by side. This is gonna be a long fucking night.

Chapter 4 

Taglist:

Anything: @kittenofdoomage​ @mayloma​ @sillyrabbit81​ @fvckinghenrycavill​ @kebabgirl67​ @beck07990​  @mysweetlittledesire​ @summersong69 @mollymal (I can’t tag you two, sorry) (Also throwing in a few from the old days for old times sake - tell me if you want off please: @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @anotherwinchesterfangirl​ @sebbytrash​ @feelmyroarrrr​)

Night Moves: @luclittlepond @geraltsyenn4eva (I can’t tag you, sorry) @enchantedbytomandhenry @kingliam2019  @henryownsme  @littlefreya @identity2212 @marantha @angelcavill66 @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Such A Funny Thing For Me To Try To Explain

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC 

Word count: 3.1K

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: Kamaria deals with some hard truths about herself, while Walter tells Kamaria how he really feels.

Chapter warnings: uncomfortable conversations, Daddy kink, non-barrier contraception (no condom usage), creampie, breeding kink, the itis

A/N: This chapter takes place directly after Chapter 5. Call it a continuation, if you will. Also, the last chapter was very Walter-centric and this chapter is about 33% Kamaria POV and 67% Walter POV. Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Cross-posted on AO3

~*~Spotify Playlist~*~

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Kamaria’s POV

Early Saturday Morning

I am awakened by Walter’s strong arms wrapped around me, gently shaking me. Fuck.

“Kam, baby, wake up!” his voice quakes, as he turns my face to look at him. 

“I’m awake,” I mumble, my body still trembling.

“You were having an awful nightmare. I’ve been trying to wake you for some time now,” he began wiping a cold compress across my sweaty forehead, “You don’t have to tell me what the nightmare was about, but please know I only want to help you, baby.”

Well, here goes everything, I guess.

“My heart and my brain have begun a war between each other. My heart knows you care about me, but my mind is trying its hardest to figure out the how and the why. It is struggling to find the logic in how a man like you could like a girl like me. It leaves me in the middle straining to be heard,” I sniffle, letting him take my hands in his own, “I’ve had so many people in my life that have either left me or given me reasons to leave. My mother, my ex-lovers, and my friends. I have felt for so long that I am the one that gets left behind. I’m not allowed to have happiness and love. And then I met you and my world sort of imploded.”

“Imploded in a positive way, I presume?” he wonders.

“A very positive way, Walter. So positive, my psyche can’t understand it. And you literally said to me last night that you weren’t going anywhere and it was like a breath of fresh air. Almost like you knew what I needed to hear and you just said it. And I missed you so much all week but I didn’t want to bug you while you were spending time with Faye. I want you to have the relationship with Faye that I wish I had with my Dad,” I whimper, wiping at my unshed tears. 

“Please know that if you ever need me while I am with Faye, get in touch with me, baby. You are important to me, Angel. You can’t possibly interrupt my relationship with Faye, so stop thinking you are doing so, please. How did therapy go?” he questions.

“In yesterday’s therapy session, I kept bringing up our usual after-work hang-out time and how it has become kind of routine to me. And I think maybe I experienced a kind of sub-drop as a result of it not happening this week. So by Friday, I needed your company and I jumped at the first opportunity to have you near me.”

“I need to ask you something, baby,” he says, his hand moving to my chin to turn my face toward his, “Is sub-drop the reason we had sex last night? Would you have waited longer?”

As he searches my eyes for the answer, my hand comes up to hold onto his wrist. “The reason we had sex last night is that I was ready. I was ready to experience that with you. I will say that sub-drop allowed me not to feel anxious about asking for what I needed though. I was so nervous that you wouldn’t want to have sex this soon.”

“If I had my way, I would’ve had you our first weekend together but that would have been too soon. I just knew I wanted you. So I didn’t force you last night, then?”

“Not at all, Walter. You had multiple check-ins with me and you made sure I felt comfortable and safe and cared for. You were perfect.”

“Thank fuck, I got worried there for a minute,” he lets out a nervous laugh, “You can always talk to me about these things, love. That’s why I’m here. To help shoulder the burden of what that brain decides to throw at you.”

“I know, but I-”

“No buts. Come to me the next time you are feeling unsure about something. Especially when it is to do with me. I want nothing more than to put you at ease, Angel.”

I climb up into his lap and wrap my arms around him. “Thank you. I promise I will come to you the next time I feel off.”

“That’s my good girl,” he soothes, giving my lips a quick peck, “Now, I have a question for you, Angel. I wanted to ask last night but I was too busy in a post-orgasmic haze.”

“Oh, my goodness. What is your question?” I send a prayer up to the heavens that I can handle his next words.

He smiles at me, and it has this hint of flirtation and domination within it. I love it when he smiles like that at me. Just knowing he has that power over me, but also that he wants me to know I’m safe with him.

“So, does my baby girl have a breeding kink?” Oh, that old chestnut?

I shift in his lap and start to look down and he lifts my head back up so we are eye-to-eye. “I mean, I didn’t really have it before you. Just with how much you cum, and how good you felt inside me…I just, in that moment, needed to feel you filling me up. And then I thought if I told you what I fantasize about, you would give it to me. Not give me a baby, because that would be way too soon. But, at least, give me a creampie. And you came so fucking hard, and I was beyond turned on. It was so hot, feeling you explode inside me. Even now, I can still feel it.” I shift in his lap again, trying to find any kind of friction until he stills my hips.

“As much as I wanna go for another round, it actually hasn’t been that long. It’s only a bit past 2 in the morning, and I don’t wanna hurt this little pussy. Well, I do wanna beat it up but it needs rest. As do we, Angel. Come on, let’s get some more sleep, and when we wake up, I’ll make sure and fill you up, ok?”

“Yaaaaaaaaas. Thank you, thank you, thank you! The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner you can turn me into a creme-filled treat.” I laugh, making him chuckle behind me as he cuddles into me.

Walter’s POV

Mid-Saturday Morning

I wake up to the sounds of light snores in my ear. Needless to say, I arise with a smile on my face. I attempt to snuggle closer and embrace her a bit but in my morning daze, I just squeeze her and wake her up by accident.

Her little whimper as she wakes is possibly the cutest sound I have ever heard. I’m tempted to have her make that sound again but I decide against it.

“How long have you been awake, baby?” she slurs a bit, rubbing her eyes.

“Not long. Promise I didn’t even have time to watch you sleep all creepy-like,” I laugh, leaning back when she turns around to face me.

“Awww, you weren’t my favorite kind of creep? Rats. Next time, then.”

“You’re terrible, you know that right?” 

“Can’t be that terrible. You’re in my bed. I’m in your arms. That spells romance to me,” she leans in and nuzzles my nose with hers. Why do I feel feral over that gesture?

“Right, you got me there,” I smile down at her, “How romantic is it that all I’m thinking about is filling that pretty pussy with my cum? I mean, I did promise you I would do that when we woke up.”

I have never seen her move quicker as she climbs atop me. With that movement, I and my dick are fully awake.

“I’d say that is the most romantic thing I have ever heard, Daddy,” she moans in my ear and cards her fingers through my hair. I take the opportunity to grab her hips and push her back onto me, reveling in the noises coming from her as she adjusts to the size.

“Fuck, Princess. So hot and tight for me. Take what you need from me, baby. Daddy wants you to ride for a while,” I groan, drinking in her sexiness like a fine wine.

She places her hands on my chest and lifts and lowers her hips until she can get a good rhythm going. And when she does, I am in heaven. The feeling of the motion of her hips is unlike anything I’ve ever had. Like she’s dancing on my dick and I’m not in control. 

She has all of the control and I couldn’t be more pleased. The way she works those hips, the way she looks down at me. I could not have imagined that the girl I helped not to fall that day would be above me, writhing and moaning herself to an orgasm. I could not have imagined that I would be in love this soon. But that’s what they say right? When it’s right, it’s right.

With her, it’s so fucking right. I reach up and caress her cheek, locking eyes with her. When she smiles at me, her eyes sparkle and it’s like she can see all my flaws and she just runs with them. She knows I want to care for her, and she lets me. For the most part, that is. There are still moments that I wish she would come to me, but I’m a patient man.

It looks like my Angel isn’t as patient.

“Mmm, Daddy, please may I cum?” she pleads, swiveling her hips.

I can’t deny her anything and she fucking knows it. “Yes. Cum with me, Angel,” I say, grabbing her hips and planting my feet so I can pound into her. Not even a moment later, I can feel her walls squeezing me like a vice. I tumble after her, spilling inside her and fulfilling my promise. I pull her down to entangle our moans in a searing kiss.

We part to catch our breath, foreheads together and eyes closed. There is nothing better than moments like this, I find. When one or both of us are spent, all we can do is breathe and clutch each other. We melt into each other and become one. 

I need to tell her how I feel, that’s a given. But first, I want to show her how I feel. And the first step is to care for her, as usual. Especially as it looks like her bones have left the building, and so has her brain as she has gone quiet. 

I scoop her up in my arms and leave the bedroom for the bathroom, setting her on the toilet before turning on her shower. I can tell she barely registers what is going on but she allows herself to be maneuvered into the spray after I put her shower cap over her hair. I let her get adjusted to the water while she is still basking in her afterglow.

I finally see that fruity and fragrant body wash she always smells like and lather it into her with a loofah. If I spend a little extra time massaging in the lather over her breasts and ass, she doesn’t seem to mind. I rinse her body under the stream and can’t help but leave kisses across her espresso skin. 

I turn off the water and get out of the shower first and grab her towel, holding it out for her to exit. She allows me to dry her off from top to bottom, letting me kneel at her feet to dry them. Taking off her shower cap, I leave it on its hook. Wrapping her towel around her, I lead her back to the bedroom. Wordlessly, she points to her lotion and I pick it up before coming back to her. I tell her to hold it momentarily as I walk to get my phone from my pocket and queue up ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS.

I take the lotion back from her and let the towel fall to the ground as the song starts. As I massage lotion into her perfect skin, I tell her, “This song has been on my mind for a while now. Actually, I heard Faye listening to it this week and now it’s just part of my memory banks now.” I chuckle, she joins in soon enough.

‘Nothing good lasts forever

But nights with you are better

So go slow

I never knew I needed you

Before I found you for the first time, hmm

I'm out of step, I'm off my feet

I'm waking up inside a dream

Teach me how to fly’

As the song goes on, I moisturize her skin. It is as soothing to me as it is to her. Almost like a love language. Wait, are acts of service a part of my love language? We’ll come back to that later.

I kneel down at her feet to get her lower half and the song reaches its crescendo. I caress her skin and look up at her face. She looks so perfect as she smiles down at me. Her hands fall into my hair, something I’ve noticed is a bit of an antsy habit with her. She does it when I stare at her for a beat longer than I usually would, or when she doesn’t know what to say. I just love it so much, I never want her to stop.

“I love it when you play with my hair, Angel,” I close my eyes, leaning into her. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss her belly. It is one of my favorite things about her. I could kiss and caress it all day long if she would let me. I’m sure she would. I would just have to ask.

“Well good because I love playing in your hair. I mean, these curls are like my Kryptonite,” she giggles sonorously.

“Angel, there’s something else I love,” I say, returning to my full height, “Take a guess.”

“Oh, that’s easy. You love me, right?” she throws her head back and laughs, and I can tell that she is joking and she has no clue just how right she actually is. I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so she can see the sincere smile on my face.

“I love you, Kamaria,” I search her eyes until she gets it and when she does, her eyes twinkle with unshed tears. And it breaks my fucking heart. I can tell she is questioning how and why I love her and I have to put a stop to that line of thinking. “I love you because you let me care for you. You allow me to be myself and not have to be grumpy and standoffish all the fucking time. I love your smile. I love your personality. I love the way you look at me as if I hung the moon. Let me love you, please?”

She’s nodding quickly as a single tear falls. “I love you too, Walter.”

I lean down and capture her lips. It is only then that I realize that we are both naked still. Being naked is being vulnerable. And we just took a giant leap in our relationship. I have to make sure she feels comfortable.

“Why don’t we get you into some comfy clothing and I take you out for brunch, yeah? We can hold hands and make annoying romantic faces at each other the whole time.”

She looks as though she breathes a sigh of relief before she smiles up at me. “Goodness, you really do love me. How else would you know I wanted some pancakes right now?”

“Well, I did hear your stomach grumble a bit while I was down there. But I know we’ve had sex twice in about twelve hours with no nourishment in between so it’s only right that I feed you more than my cum, ya know?”

“Oh, my God! I fucking love you for that one,” she walks away to her dresser.

“Say it again.”

“I love fucking you, I mean, I fucking love you.” she winks at me and before I can even think to punish her for that, I sputter into a laughing fit and have to put my hands on my knees to calm down.

“Damn, that was a good one. I can’t top that so I’m gonna put on my clothes and admit defeat right now.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I take the L so often. It was only right that I get a W at some point. Kinda funny it happens while naked during expressions of looo-ooove,” she sing-songs, pulling out a comfy sweater from her closet.

“Does the W stand for Win or Walter?” I wink as she rolls her eyes at me.

“Ya know what? I will dignify that with a response. The W does stand for Walter. I deserve you. I fucking deserve love and happiness and cheesy romantic moments! Now, put some pants on, and let’s go get pancakes and whatever the fuck a full English breakfast is.”

“We’re not getting an English breakfast that’s anywhere near as good as what I can make at home. Trust me. Let’s stick to pancakes and bacon and like, grits or something. Have you ever had grits?”

“Oh, hun. Yeah, I’ve had grits. I’ve had, like, so many types of grits too. Shrimp grits, cheese grits, creamy grits. Damnit, now I want something savory.”

“No one is saying you can’t have whatever you want, Angel.” I offer, pulling up my trousers and looking at her.

I see her catch herself before she speaks. “You know what? You’re so fucking right. I’m putting on my stretchy pants today. I am gonna eat to my heart’s content. Eat grease and butter until I need a nap. That is my ideal way to spend the rest of the day if you don’t mind?”

“I fucking love that idea. Get those stretchy pants on. And maybe pack an overnight bag? I have an idea for tomorrow and I want you there for it. Unless you have plans?” I suggest as I pull my shirt over my head.

“No plans for me. I’d love to stay the night and see what this idea of yours is,” she agrees, pulling out her overnight bag from her closet.

After she packs up her bag, we head to a diner on the way back to my house. We eat to our heart’s content and it is true. As soon as we get back to my house, we take a long nap. The itis, as Kam called it, had surely beaten us, and we were happy to lose. And I was happy to be holding the woman I loved, and who loved me, in my arms.

I am so fucking lucky.

Chapter 7

A/N: The chapter title is taken from ‘Crazy In Love’, the Sofia Karlberg version is on the Spotify playlist. I feel the need to apologize to not only Beyonce but to the Beyhive. I needed the slowed-down version, but I kinda hate the version Bey did. I’ll die on the hill that Sofia’s slow version is better. If this stops you from reading the story further, I completely underst-Call your dad, you're in a cult!

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