#I can still hear my friend screaming at me for doing this instead of resting

[notsofrozt]

My hand may be in a (kind of bloody) mess, but is nothing duck tape and a lot of patience can't fix. A couple of bruises and motorcycle hitting me at full speed ain't going to stop me 🤺

My 4th entry in the DxD battle, @moshangevents, using @airplanecrashingdown amazing prompt. Mobei-jun knows how susceptible humans are to the cold, so he's going to keep his extra safe <3

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

[sweetdispatch]

A break - L. Hughes

masterlist pairing: Luke Hughes x girlfriend!reader summary: Luke announced that he's going back home for the break, assuming that you're working anyways but he doesn't know that you took week off from work to spend time with him warning: argument, misunderstanding note: ahh, i didn't write anything for the past month because i've been doubting my writing skills, let me know what do you think! feedback is always welcome🎀

---

You picked up Luke when he returned from Montreal. It was the last game before a national team break. Since he didn't get called up, you thought that the two of you would spend a whole week together. When the two of you returned to the apartment, you noticed that he’s packing his suitcase. This looked suspicious because he didn't mention going anywhere.

“Umm… What are you doing?” You asked Luke. He closed the gap between the two of you and kissed your forehead.

“I’m packing because tomorrow’ morning I have a flight back home. Since it’s my free week, I want to spend some time with friends and family back in Michigan” He said casually and returned to packing. 

“Oh… You didn’t say anything earlier” You replied trying to cover hurt in your voice. 

“I didn’t plan it honestly but I talked with boys and they’re also going back to Michigan and we’re having a little reunion. You have work anyways so I didn’t bother you with this” 

“So you just decided to leave without saying anything? Very kind of you” You said with sarcasm. Luke sighed loudly.

“Look, it’s not a big deal, you have work so I don’t see a point in sitting here bored and waiting for you to return every single day, I think I can see my friends or are you gonna act possessive now?” You couldn’t believe in his words. 

“I’m not gonna act possessive but it would be nice to know about it earlier” 

“Well, I booked the plane ticket this morning so deal with it” Luke said nonchalantly and you could feel the anger boiling inside of you. Instead of arguing with him, you decided to drop it.

“Whatever…” You turned to go to the bathroom before you spoke again. “And for your information, I took a week off from work so we can spend time together” With that, you closed the bathroom door louder than you should. 

“Well if you would have told me this earlier, I would stay” Luke screamed so you could hear him. You rolled your eyes and started preparing a bath for yourself. You needed to rest and rethink what just happened.

In your opinion, you did nothing wrong and Luke is guilty. You wanted to spend time with him since he doesn’t have training and games and he decided to leave you. Even worse is that he didn’t bother to invite you to go to Michigan with him, knowing that you’re not working and he’s blaming you for this whole mess. You laid in the bath longer than usual because you didn’t want to face him. 

Luke didn’t see a problem in his decision to go back home. It’s his free week and he can do whatever he wants. He’s seeing you every single day and he has a full right to go and see his family and friends. In fact, he thinks that it’s all your fault. If you told him earlier that you took a week off from work, he would stay in New Jersey. He returned to packing, not even bothered that you’re sitting in the bathroom for the second hour. 

You left the bathroom, still mad at him and ignored his presence. Luke did the same. The minute you left the bathroom, he went in to take a shower. You went to the kitchen to eat something before going to sleep. You prepared yourself mac’n’cheese and didn’t even bother to make one for him. You knew it’s petty but in your thinking, he deserves it. 

You returned to the bedroom and went straight to bed. You saw that Luke is still in the bathroom and sighed deeply. You didn’t want to argue with him over something so silly but at the same time, you didn’t want to admit that he’s right and has full right to go and see his family and friends. You closed your eyes and tried to get some sleep. Luke left the bathroom and saw that you’re facing the window and even when he knew that you’re not sleeping, he decided to play your game. Without a word, he laid in the bed and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up and saw that there’s an empty spot in your bed and the whole apartment is quiet. You stepped out to go and make yourself a cup of tea and notice that Luke left. You send him a quick message. 

Very mature to leave without even bothering to say bye

Have fun in Michigan and hope you won’t return to an empty apartment :)

You were well aware that you’re overreacting but you couldn’t help. You were mad over this whole situation. You drank your tea and decided to get ready for the day. You called your friend to meet up with her. That was the last time you checked your phone for the day. Since Luke left you, you didn’t want to have contact with him or anyone else and thought that maybe the break would be nice for the two of you to figure things out. You left your phone at home and decided to enjoy the day with your friend. 

Luke read your messages and laughed. He knew how petty you can get so he wasn’t even bothered by it. He blocked his phone and returned to the conversation he had with his mom and dad. 

“What’s so funny?” His dad asked. 

“Me and Y/N had an argument yesterday and she sent me a text that I should hope that she’ll be in the apartment when I return” He chuckled. 

“That sounds serious Luke, what was the argument about?” Now his mum asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. She’s just mad that I flew to Michigan for my break and didn’t told her earlier, later she said something about taking week off from work, thinking that I would be feeling guilty” Luke shrugged 

“If she has a free week, why didn’t you bring her with you here?” His dad questioned and the realisation hit Luke. He didn’t even think about this scenario. He left you alone in New Jersey. His face lost all the colors when he realised it. His mum quickly noticed this.

“You didn’t ask her. You didn’t even think about inviting her here” His mom said and he nodded ashamed of the situation. Luke knew that he messed up real good now. 

“I need to call her” He excused himself and went to his bedroom. He called you 5 times but he couldn’t reach you. All the bad scenarios were going through his head. 

What if you really left him?

Luke knew he had to do something about it. He returned to the living room and asked.

“Mum, can I use your phone?” Without a doubt, his mum gave him her phone and Luke tried to call you. Again, he couldn’t reach you. “I think I need to get back and save my relationship” Luke replied and left again.

Luke booked a flight for tomorrow’ morning and prayed to see you there when he gets back to the apartment. He started to think about the argument you two had and he knew that he was the one who’s wrong. He should invite you when you told him that you took a week off to spend time with him. 

“Everything is going to be fine between the two of you. Y/N loves you too much to break up with you over this misunderstanding” His mum said standing in the entry to his bedroom. She could tell that his youngest son is scared that he might lose the love of his life. 

“I really hope for it. I’m scared mum” He sighed and closed the laptop. 

Around 9PM, you finally got back home. You spent a wonderful day with your friend where you drank overpriced coffee, ate the best carbonara that you could find in New Jersey and had a couple drinks. You went straight to the bathroom to take a shower and lay in your bed. You needed sleep after all the adventures you had today. Because you left your phone in the kitchen in the morning, you forgot to check it when you returned. It was your worry for tomorrow, today was all about you.

The next day when you woke up, you went straight to the kitchen. You grabbed your phone and saw 30 missed calls from Luke, 10 from his mother and over 100 messages from his whole family. You started feeling guilty and bad that you ignored them and quickly tried to call back to Luke. He didn’t answer the phone and you felt that it’s over between the two of you. Fact that you left your phone at home yesterday was his final straw and he’s gonna break up with you. 

Tears were falling from your eyes while you were making tea and didn’t even hear that someone entered the apartment. You were too deep in your head thinking about what are you gonna do. You and Luke had been together for the past 5 years and now it’s over. 

Luke entered the house and the first thing he heard was you crying. At first he sighed, relieved that you’re at home but then he realised that you’re crying. Quickly he dropped his suitcase and ran to hug you. You screamed in panic but then you recognized the strong grip. 

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry” Luke tried to calm you down and it was working. He was smothering your hair, whispering sweet things into your ear. When you finally cooled down, you spoke.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re in Michigan” You wiped your cheeks and looked at him.

“I was but my parents made me realise that I messed up. I tried to reach you but you didn’t answer your phone so I decided to return and sort things out between us. I don’t want you to think that I’m choosing my friends over you. I’ll always choose you” Luke looked deeply into your eyes while he said the last sentence. 

“Sorry that I didn’t answer the phone calls from you. I left my phone at home yesterday when I went out and after I got back home, I completely forgot to check it. I did it this morning and tried to call you but you didn’t pick up and I thought that you’re breaking up with me” You hugged him and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I would never break up with you. I didn’t answer because I was already under the building apartment” Luke kissed your head again. “Sorry for all the misunderstanding, I should tell you about me leaving for Michigan when I…” 

“Stop. You have nothing to apologise for. I was wrong for being mad that you want to spend time with your family and friends. It was a bad call and I deeply regret it. Sorry for ruining your free week and that you couldn’t spend time with them” 

“We both messed up but that’s why we love each other right?” Luke joked and you giggled.

“True. I love you Luke” You tiptoed and kissed his lips. 

“How about I'll take you on a nice dinner today and you’ll tell me about yesterday?” He smiled at you.

“Okay and sorry again for ruining your trip. That was the last thing I wanted to do” You felt guilty for this whole mess and it was bothering you that he dropped everything just to see if everything’s alright between the two of you. 

“Everything’s fine baby. As long as we’re good, it was worth it” Luke smiled at you and you hugged him again.

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x gender!neutral!reader, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 800 words. I wrote this just now, I wasn't planning on writing for him so soon but I couldn't help myself. I hope those of you that know of him enjoy it. ♡

It all started at those stupid abandoned apartments. Your friends dared you to go in, and for some reason you did it. Sure it was spooky inside but there really wasn't any threat. Only when you got lost and wandered around the building for hours, trying to find an exit. 

While you were in the building you felt like someone was watching you. Occasionally spotting a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye, or hearing the sound of something shuffling on the floor. 

However, even after you left the building, you still felt like someone was watching you—every second of every day. This feeling was stronger while you were at home, but it would linger out in public, too. 

It was strongest though when you were trying to go to sleep. In your bedroom, with the lights off, and no sound but the night outside your window. You tried to ignore it, not let it get to you, but you'd be lying if you said it hadn't kept you awake most nights. Only falling asleep when your fatigue was too much to ignore. 

And tonight was no different. You lay in your bed desperately trying to get some rest but the feeling of someone else in your room keeps you awake. 

“You okay?” a strange voice calls to you from the darkness. You have no idea what it said but you're certain you couldn't have imagined the sound. 

You shoot up from your bed to see where the sound came from, but you don't see anyone. 

“H-Hello?” you mutter in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a head pops up from beside your bed, “Hello!” A high-pitched giggle emits from the creature's mouth, a sound that doesn't match its appearance. 

The head rises, and it grips the side of your bed with cold-looking hands. Pulling itself onto the bed with its arms instead of standing up and climbing on normally. 

You scream at the sight, instinctively backing away.

The creature frowns, “You scared?” it says as it retreats slightly, “Me sorry.” It has an apologetic tone in its voice, but it's speaking some kind of language you're unable to understand.

It doesn't come closer, staying at a distance so as to not startle you further. As the panic slowly subsides, you take a closer look at the creature. 

It looks like a man, but his hair is extremely long. Stark black and has a silky straight texture - hanging in front of his face and covering his eyes. Though you can see blood on his skin where it looks like his eyes should be. His skin is pale grey, and void of any warmth. And his clothes, though hard to see since he hasn't stood yet, appear to be a tattered black Yukata perhaps? 

He stares back at you with a wide grin. It's that smile that makes him look creepy and inhuman. Though not entirely unfriendly. 

“Wh-who are you?” you whimper, “What do you want?”

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy. It seems like he doesn't understand what you're saying. 

“Me not hurt you,” he smiles, reaching out his hand to pat your head. 

You flinch at his touch, not sure what he just said or what his intentions are. Though he doesn't seem malicious. He may look scary but he hasn't shown any hostility when he's certainly had the opportunity to. 

“Um,” you try to think of what to say to him, “Are you the one that's been watching me?”

“...?” he tilts his head again.

“N-Never mind,” you smile awkwardly, “Erm, I'm going to go to sleep, ok? You can sleep on the couch if you want to stay…”

You put your hands together and make a sleeping motion on your pillow, trying to tell him you want to sleep. 

“Rest?” he looks at the pillow then back to you, “Alright. We rest!”

With a smile he lays his head on the pillow next to yours, looking at you expectantly. 

“N-No! I mean - you can sleep on the couch, not in my bed!” 

He just smiles, your words going in one ear and out the other. 

“Ok, fine,” you sigh and lay down beside him, “You can sleep here I guess…”

You try to sleep, but you can feel him staring at you. And when you open your eyes to see that wide smile of his, it doesn't help. So you turn around, facing your back to him. “G-Goodnight,” you mutter. 

“You rest bed… Me rest bed,” he mumbles, “Me grateful.”

You don't know what he just said, but for some reason, you feel safer with him by your side. Who or what he is is still a mystery. For all you know, this could just be another dream.

But a part of you really hopes that it isn't…

[rainsiide]

BUT I’M A CHEERLEADER .ᐟ.ᐟ

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི now playing Diet Mountain Dew - Lana Del Rey 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

“you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.”

sophia laforteza x reader ⋮ you’re a cheerleader, you don’t like girls. especially not that oddity of a football player sophia.

warning you! ⋆ slight internalized homophobia, i went to most my football games and i still have no clue abt it

“i want this to be sharper girls!” your coach yelled, for about the tenth time. the homecoming prep rally was coming up soon and your coach would not take good for a end result. she wanted perfect. she was going over routines for touchdowns, fumbles, & a down. and also the half time performance

soon after you found yourself in the bleachers, in the middle cheering for the girls. cheers erupted from your mouth and stomps shook the bleachers. you were apart of the tumblers who did tricks on the track that surrounded the football field. perfecting your skills everyday from practice, you flawlessly hits stunts, jumps and flips. you had been facing away from the field when you felt a rush of a air, a yell, a scream, and then you felt the track ground. someone had fell into you.

“holy shit! i am so sorry, i didn’t think i was running that far to catch it!” a girls voice said. you touched your head, the headache hitting hard and pain in your foot made you struggle. she took off her helmet, a sweaty face and dark hair cascading down her neck. she kneeled down grabbing your hand and pulling you up gently.

“i- are you okay?” she had asked as she helped you stand up, one of your feet slightly hovering above the track. you looked up at her clueless. no words came up, and why not? because her face was so distracting. no— no it wasn’t, you just got caught off guard, that was all.

“do you have a concussion, can you hear me?” she look concerned that you were just staring at her.

“sorry— um my foot, i don’t think i can walk on it.” you responded to her. the nurse then came over to you and helped you up onto a bed on the side. for some reason sophia trailed right behind her. she looked like a kicked puppy. she probably felt like one too.

“i am so so so sorry! i know your performing in the halftime and i feel really bad!” she started to ramble on to you. “look its okay um—” “sophia.” “sophia, it’s fine, you didn’t mean it, we shouldn’t had been turned around aways..” you said. it was kinda stupid to be looking at the crowd instead of the players.

“you’re gonna need to stay off this foot for awhile, there’s no signs of a concussion so you should be fine in time for the halftime performance.” the nurse said as she placed a ice pack on your foot and told you to rest there for awhile. you watched the game from the sidelines, or rather sophia from the sidelines. it was only because she was only player you could recognize, no other reason.

the next day at school you found yourself with a cast on your foot and you walked weakly around the hallways. then you unlocked your locker to place some books you didn’t need for next period. then closing your locker you found a tall dark hair football player on the other side of the door. practically scaring you and you always fell again.

“woah, didn’t mean to make you drop.” she said with a laugh. “well you almost did, funny job sophia.” you said rolling your eyes. “sorry. look i just came over here to give you this. i asked your friend. the one with the blonde curly hair? she said you liked these.” she referred to your friend daniela, passing you candy bar that you loved since the dawn of times.

“it’s an apology candy. you know, for what happened last night.” she said sheepishly. she smiled at her and thanked her for it “you really didn’t have to, but i appreciate sophia.” she smiled and left to her class.

about a hour later you went to the lunchroom. sitting with your friends daniela & harvey. they had their lunches, eating and chatting. they greeted you and you joined in on the talking. you disengaged from the conversation for a minute to take out the candy bar that was in your pocket. mindlessly eating it.

“no way you went to the store without us?” harvey said, often times you guys went off campus to get snacks during lunchtime. but today wasn’t a day you planned to. “no, it’s uh— from that football player, as a apology.” you said.

“hm, that’s why she asked me about your favorite candy.” daniela said, biting down on the sub sandwich. “huh, cute.” harvey said. you paid harvey no mind as you finished it. the lunch period was over and they threw their lunch away. all of three of you started to walk to class. one by one dropping each other off. harvey dropped you off and left to her own class.

two weeks past and you were now fully healed in time for the homecoming game. you and sophia and grown closer but you paid it no mind. that she was just being friendly. after school you and daniela were at practice. practicing stunts on the sidelines and routine. the coach gave the girls a break and daniela and you sat down as you watched the football player(s) practice. tonight was a big rivalry and they just had to beat them. you could recognize a certain football player anywhere. many times cheer practice overlapped with football practice. so you’d see sophia more often then you thought.

then the players came off the field for a break and she slid herself right next to you. her head resting on your shoulder. mindlessly you played with her hair. it had been something you got used to, every time you saw her at practice during breaks you would hang out together and talk together.

later on you were in the changing room, putting on your uniform for the halftime show. and so was sophia. you were sitting lacing up your shoes, not really paying attention to whoever was next to you. until you felt somebody slide over and wrap a arm around your shoulders. “hey y/n” sophia smiled. you giggled and said hey back. then turning your head, not realizing how close her face was. so close you could feel her breath. so close you could see how perfect her eyelashes were, and how perfect those lips were. so perfect you could just kiss them. and you did.

her lips against yours felt so familiar for something new but then. you woke up. your eyes opened and you realized what you were doing. you pulled away from her at what went through your mind, you touched your lips, looked at her and moved back.

“i don’t— um- im supposed to be on the sidelines. i have to go.” and at that you got up without looking behind you. speed walking out room and running to the field. your mind was spiraling. why’d you kiss sophia? you don’t like her, you don’t like girls. your a cheerleader. you thought. you didn’t say anything and as the game started minutes later. that football player caught your eye again, and you didnt know if these were good reasons or bad reasons.

you watched them play back and forth, fumbles, flags, touchdowns and all. then it was time for the halftime show. first the band with the dancers took over the field. baritones, trumpets, drums played loud as ever. you watched intently as they played. your mind running through your own performance. cheers erupted from the bleachers. as well as the players on the sideline. then it was time for the cheerleaders.

your heart was not in its normal place, it was ten times deeper. and you could feel it every time you moved. locking into your starting position, you counted over and over in your head as danced to the music. you hoped that you wouldn’t mess up any stunts. hoping you wouldn’t drop any flips. while you were in position for a move you caught the eye of sophia. you didn’t know if it was a face of “i’m proud of you” or if it’s “please talk to me again” and if you knew any better it was probably the second thought. after the performance was over yo posed for the ending. and then moved. cheers also erupted for you.

after that the players were back on the field and hustling. this was a rival team they could let put them out in their field. seconds on the clock, sophia ran down the field, ball in a hand, going to the end, getting a touchdown last second. the bleachers were loud, they gladly put the rival team to shame. then. they held the players up cheering and clapping for everybody.

you were sat on the bleachers waiting for you and daniela’s ride. her mom always picked you both up. you had been on the sidelines packing up some things you’d left over there.

“hey.”

you felt your heart stop. sophia. you got up and turned around to face her.

“i’m sorry about the kiss i—“ she said, everything moved in slow motion. and without thinking you pulled her into a hug. your arms tightly around her neck. you had came to the conclusion that if there was anybody to kiss it was to be her. you liked girls, you liked sophia, even if you were a cheerleader.

you moved from her embrace and held her face in your palms.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t think i liked her girls. i didn’t think i liked you, im a cheerleader, you know? ‘m supposed to be the the top football player jock. but i think i want you. i like this football player more than any one.” you said, pointing to her.

she smiled to you, her hands on your waist. “so can i kiss you?” she smiled as she questioned you. you nodded as she pressed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“i like you sophia.”

“i like you too, cheerleader.”

[mattslilies]

✩ surprising matt on tour ✩

or: the one where you tell matt you miss him and can't wait for him to come home from tour, only to show up on the barricade of the next show <3

warnings: none! just fluff

divider credit: @/strangergraphics

your boyfriend being on tour was bittersweet. you were obviously incredibly proud of him, but at the same time, him being away for months at a time took a toll on you.

your relationship wasn't suffering from it, if anything, it was only strengthened, but you definitely still missed him. you loved seeing all the photos from the different cities along the tour, and you loved watching the friendly conversation and banter that all three triplets had with the crowd, but you did wish that you could see your boyfriend again.

texts, phone, and facetime calls could only do so much, and you could tell that matt was starting to get not only homesick, but missing you a lot as well. being a very touchy and clingy person, being away for a while bothered him too.

so, you hatched a plan.

the next stop on the tour was coming up, and it was only one state line away from you. you didn't have to work that day, so you looked into buying a ticket. you didn't tell matt about any of your plan, wanting to surprise him.

after a long phone call with nick while he was out getting food, everything was set up. you'd get to the show at the time that doors opened, and nick would make sure that you got in a little bit early, so you could be on the barricade when they came out onto the stage.

keeping the secret from matt was difficult, as you talked on the phone practically every night. you were bubbling with excitement, but had to pretend that it was about getting lunch with a friend the next day, not surprising him instead.

the drive to the venue was fun, as you had a lot of music to listen to, and you were so ready to see not just matt, but also chris and nick again. they were your best friends, and you had missed them all greatly in the past weeks.

meeting nick around the back of the venue, you smiled when you saw him leave out the back door.

"hey!"

he engulfed you in a hug, having clearly missed you.

"hey! it's great to see you guys!"

nick smiled, walking back inside, you following behind him.

"it hasn't been that long."

you raised an eyebrow, enjoying the gentle banter.

"didn't you just say that you missed me sooooo much on the phone yesterday? or was that just me hearing things again?"

laughter was heard from both of you, an easy conversation flowing as nick led you to where you needed to be.

"everyone inside has already done the VIP Meet and Greet with us, and they're in line to walk in. i probably shouldn't get you to the very front, i don't wanna draw too much attention to you, but i can get you close enough that you'll be close to the stage."

thanking him and wishing him good luck before saying goodbye, you stepped into line about fifteen people deep. sure enough, you were right in the front row.

it didn't take very long for the rest of the people to fill in, and the lights to dim, with the neon "Let's Trip" logo projected onto the stage. you couldn't wait.

the look on matt's face when he stepped out onto the stage and noticed you directly in the middle was priceless. he was stuck between a jaw drop and a smile, meaning his face was a wide grin.

he walked over to you almost immediately, leaning over.

"how did you get here?!"

you smiled, yelling back over the screams of the audience.

"i have my ways."

he shook his head, a huge smile still decorating his lips, before reaching a hand down to do the heart pose from the Meet and Greet photos with you.

despite the audience behind you, the amount that he had missed you and the joy of you being there overpowered him, and he kneeled down to face level, kissing you in front of the entire venue.

people reacted exactly how you would expect, a lot of yelling, but it was all white noise to you.

when he finally pulled back, standing up, he couldn't wipe the happiness off of his face, and it radiated throughout the rest of the show.

taglist <3

@courta13 @quinnynation @bowsandsturniolos @mqroonsturn @emely9274 @lizzyzzn @mattsbows @mattybsgroupie @sophand4n4 @leah-sturniolo @wr1tingsonthewall @sturns-mermaid @immaqulate @sweetshuga @user1smvtysturniolo @adoremattsturns @55sturn @chrisissobabygirl @backwardshatnick @jadest0ne

if you would like to be added to my taglist, click here!

[surielstea]

In The Act

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Reader

Summary: In which Cassian catches Azriel and Reader who had been trying so hard to keep their relationship a secret.

Warnings: fluff | Az openly being a perv

2.6k words

"We've got to get ready Az," I murmur into his bare shoulder and he groans, pulling the sheets over our heads. I look up at him in the darkness of the blankets. "We're going to be late," I warn but he doesn't reply and rolls over, half of his body crushing me into the mattress.

"We should just stay here all day," He says, his voice still deeper than usual with the effects of sleep.

We were supposed to meet our friends for a late breakfast in less than half an hour but Azriel and I haven't even left the bed yet.

"Az, c'mon," I ran a hand through his hair, tussling it from his face while he rolled off of me, gripping my waist and taking me with him, forcing me on top of his chest.

"I'm not ready to stop being your boyfriend yet," He sighs and a smile tugs at my lips at the sentiment. "You don't have to stop, just don't mention it," I shrug, leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to his lips which he returned with equal devotion.

We had been keeping our relationship secret from the rest of our friends for the past month, it had been only a week after I broke up with my previous boyfriend when Az and I got together— and though I trusted everyone in my friend group to keep me and Az a secret, I couldn't risk word getting out and being eternally slut shamed for the rest of my young adulthood.

"Just wait it out a few more weeks alright? Then I promise you can tell everyone I'm all yours," I hum with a cheeky smile, slowly dragging my hands up his arms and then around the nape of his neck so my chest was flush with his.

"All mine," He says with a look in his eyes that made my heart swell.

"But only if you get ready," I slide from his lap and off the bed, despite his protests.

"Gods, you're gorgeous in the mornings," He admires as he watches me stretch, his eyes particularly staring at the way my shirt lifts to expose the curve of my ass when I extend my arms upward. I yawn and take off the oversized tee, walking towards the closet in nothing but my underwear. "So gorgeous," He mumbles, mostly to himself so I pretend not to hear, but my soft smile remains.

I picked out a simple summer dress, a pale blue color with thin straps that accentuated my figure nicely. I turn to my boyfriend, looking at him, still sprawled out in the bedsheets unabashedly staring at me with so much adoration in his gaze. The warm blankets were welcoming enough, but with him in it, the bed might as well have been screaming my name.

I walk closer, closing the distance between me and the bedside. His eyes light up like he recognizes that I'm about to crawl back into bed, but instead of clambering over him, I lean down, my nose brushing his. "If you're not ready in the next ten minutes I'm revoking kisses for the rest of the week," I warn and his eyes widen a fraction, then they oddly relax.

"You couldn't keep that up if you tried," He says with a polished grin. I shrug and then begin to back away but he catches me by the back of my neck and keeps me close. "Wait I'll get ready, just give me a kiss," He immediately switches his tone and I can't help but give in, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Now do I need to help you get dressed or can you get ready by yourself?" I tease as soon as I pull away and he shakes his head, playfully pushing me away as I giggle.

The car ride had been silent for the most part, other than the music playing steadily from the radio and my botched singing. But Azriel didn't mind, just placed his hand on my thigh and continued driving with a soft hum emitting through his lips.

"You ready to ignore me all breakfast?" I say with a cheeky smile as he pulls into the parking lot.

"Don't remind me," He groans and I only laugh with a light-hearted attitude. He puts the car in park and looks at me with a pout.

"I appreciate you for being patient with me," I cup his face in my hands. "I promise I'll be so good to you tonight," I grin, leaning over the center console and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I just want to look at your ass in public without Cassian calling me out," He mutters and I chuckle, giving him an amused grin.

"How romantic," I taunt, ghosting the words over his lips. "And, because I want to take you on dates," He argues.

"Oh, I'm sure," I say, my words laced with sarcasm.

"Swear it, I can't wait to take you to your favorite restaurants," He said, fingers dancing along my thigh. I wait for him to finish that sentence. "And so I can see you in those obnoxiously tight dresses."

"There he is." I grin.

He rolls his eyes and presses his lips to mine, soft and tender, a silent goodbye because he knows that for the next hour, he won't be able to stare at me with every chance he gets. "I'll go in first, alright?" I whisper softly against his lips and he nods, pulling away and slumping into his seat.

I open the car door and give him one last look before closing it behind me. We carpooled so often it had become routine to enter a place separately, either he or I would go in first, wait a few minutes, and then the other would enter so as to not raise suspicion.

On my way inside I spotted Cassian and Nesta approaching the entrance so I held the door open, greeting them with a smile. "Morning," Cassian wiggled his brows at me and I creased my own, confused at his awfully amused tone. I look to Nesta for answers but she offers none and only gives me a smirk, doubling my confusion.

I walk behind them, following them to a table where Rhys, Feyre, and Morrigan already sat chatting. They all looked up at us with wide smiles as we seated ourselves, leaving two empty chairs to the right of me.

"I love your dress," Morrigan said from my left side, pinching the fabric between her painted nails. I smile over at her.

"Thanks, Mor," I bump her shoulder.

"How do you look so good so early in the morning?" I ask and she beams.

"It takes hard work to look this magnificent," She fans herself and I chuckle.

"It seems to pay off—" I stop my next words when someone sits beside me. I turned my head to spot Azriel doing his best to ignore me, but he was awfully obvious with the way he inched his chair closer to mine whenever adjusting his position.

"Az I haven't seen you in forever, where have you been?" I tease him, deciding that this game would be a cruel kind of fun. He looks to me, clearly unamused. But the grin on my face is contagious and sooner or later I have a gentle smile coming to his features.

"Been busy with work," He shrugs. "Plus I've been talking to this new girl," He adds.

"Who?" Morrigan gasps, now entirely interested in the gossip.

"When can we meet her?" Feyre asks with an eager smile.

"Do you like her?" Rhys crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yes, and not anytime soon," He warns the golden brunette.

"Is she the one?" I impose as a mere taunt but he looks to me with utter seriousness and a lack of hesitance.

"I think so," He answers, and something about his voice was so very honest. It was hard not to crumble into his arms, hard not to press my lips against his and melt into his every crevice.

Cassian coughs and we all look at him in concern, dropping the subject of Azriel's new girlfriend, but the tall male only dismisses us with a wave of his hand as he drinks from his water. "Don't tell me the party started without me," A familiar cold voice stated and we all looked to Amren with cheerful smiles as Rhys said, "We wouldn't dare."

Halfway into eating our food Azriel had gotten a text. I was acutely aware of everything he did, so when he pulled out his phone to check the message and choked on his food I startled. The male rarely gave away any form of a reaction so when he jumped we all looked at him confused.

But he only looked at Cassian, then to me. He discreetly passed me the phone beneath the table and then continued eating.

The message had been from Cassian, and it was not words but an image, one of me and Azriel in his car, noses touched, staring at each other with a pure expression of love. The image rocked me. Not only because it had been revealed that Cassian knew, and most likely Nesta, too, but because of the way he looked at me. I hadn't realized how obvious it must've been to all our friends that we were irrevocably in love with each other.

I look to Azriel, then to Cassian, panicked. Cassian mindlessly dug into his food as if he had no idea what he had just stirred.

"Excuse me, I fear I've grown faint," I stand, making a show out of clutching my stomach. "Oh no, do you need anything?" Feyre said with pure concern that I admired. "I'm sure it'll pass, excuse me," I clear my throat tucking my chair in then navigating my way towards the washroom.

"I'm going to check on her," Azriel silently got up, dismissing himself. "Cass, I could use some assistance,"  He added and the male who was gorging himself on food stopped his eating, only to look up at his brother. "Right," He set his fork down and chased after Azriel who did not wait for a reply and began to rush after me.

I stood in the secluded hallway, back leaning against the door of the female bathrooms. Two males approached and I squared my features, wondering what part it was I would be playing in front of Cassian. I looked to Azriel for answers but his stoic features offered me none.

"Care to explain?" Cassian immediately interrogated and Azriel shifted to my side so we were both facing the other male, a clear line drawn between us.

"What do you mean Cass?" I ask, feigning innocence. He deadpanned, but inevitably pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up the incriminating photo, noses touching, hands all over each other.

"That's not me," Azriel denies.

"Oh really?" Cassian zooms in on the image, putting Azriel's face so clearly on display. We both swallow thickly.

"Every person has seven doppelgängers each, must be one of them," The male shrugs innocently and I look at him with creased brows, he had to have known how ignorant that had sounded, right?

"You have the same tattoos," Cassian narrows his eyes at his brother, as if he even had to argue. He had photographic proof in his very hands, there was nothing more to be said.

"So it's just a coincidence that both of your doppelgängers are at this diner right now and I just so happened to see?" He arches a brow and we both shrug. He looks to us, then to the image, then back to us as if we were genuinely convincing him.

"Alright fine, it's us," I confess and Azriel looks at me slightly shocked, I had been the one hiding this from them for so long, it was my rule. There was no way he was going to let some stupid coincidence ruin everything he's been trying so hard to hide. "I had something in my eye, she was helping me get it out," Azriel cuts in and I crease my brows, gazing at him with an odd look. "It looks wrong I know but we're not like that, could you imagine?" The male looks at me with a scoff and I feign a laugh at the idea. "Me and Az? Psh, never," I wave him off and Cassian's features settle. "Not in a million years," Azriel seconds, patting my head the way one might to a little sister, the action making me viscerally cringe but I managed to contain it with a smile.

"Alright, whatever you say," Cass mumbles, either believing us or giving up entirely because he knows we won't give in, he puts his phone back into his pocket with a defeated expression and some part of me feels bad for lying, he had us trapped in a corner and we just kicked him until he let us go. I look to Azriel, silently communicating my pity. He shakes his head no, but I keep nodding with a mischievous smile.

"Hey, you've got something on your lip," I say, bringing my hand up to his jaw then rising onto my toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. His hand wraps around my waist, pulling me closer greedily. I press a hand to his abdomen and push him away because I know he wouldn't have let me go otherwise. "There, got it," I swipe my thumb over his bottom lip and he only stares at me with such wonder in his eyes, like he had never seen anything greater.

I look back to Cassian and he just stands there, stunned. "Am I dreaming?" He mumbled and I only laughed while Azriel's hold tightened around me.

"You can tell Nes, but no one else alright?" I warn.

"Wait— I don't get more information than that?" Cassian whisper-shouted and I shook my head. "No, no, no. I deserve an explanation, Azriel has been talking my ears off for years about how badly he wants you—" Cassian begins to expose but my boyfriend smacks a hand over the other male's mouth before he gets the chance to finish.

"We don't have to get into the logistics, we'll explain later, we've been gone for too long," Azriel grits out then removes his hand. "Go on now." He shoos him with a hand gesture that makes his brother grit his teeth, but inevitably he spins on his heel and stomps away.

I let my concealed amusement bubble out the moment he turned the corner, out of earshot. "We'll tell the others tomorrow, I doubt Cass can keep his mouth shut for long," I point out and Azriel nods with a chuckle, loosening his hold around my waist. "Alright, c'mon," I intertwine our hands, tugging him down the hall but he pulls me right back to him, my body pressing into his chest with the sudden change of momentum.

"Hold on, you've got something on your lip," He repeats, his thumb pulls at my bottom lip and I roll my eyes with a soft grin, rising onto my toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, warmth spreading through my body as he fills me entirely with tenderness.

"Is it gone?" I mumble when he pulls away a fraction. His gaze wanders over my lips.

"Let me check," he leans back in and I giggle into his mouth, overcome with endearment as butterflies soar in the pit of my stomach.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @secretlyhers @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @mahealanipunea @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin

[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: angst, assumed cheating

~~~~

“I wish you could come with me.” You looked over at your boyfriend next to you by the kitchen counter. He didn’t meet your gaze, face contoured in concentration as he formed the ground beef into patties.

“I know baby.” You agreed, reaching for a bowl to put the cut cucumber in. Max grabbed it for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with? Bahrain is nice.” He softly bumped his arm against yours, offering a playful smile. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would love to, you know that. But I have my thesis to write.”

“You can do that on the road.” He tried, but you both knew the answer. This conversation had been on repeat for the last few months and every time it ended with Max, somewhat disappointed, agreeing that it would be best if you stayed home. You weren’t surprised he tried one last time tonight.

“Even if I could Maxie, I still have to work and I can’t do that from Bahrain.” Even before he spoke up you knew what his next argument would be and if anything got under your skin, it was this.

“You don’t need to work though. You have me.” The way he said it so casually, like he always did, had your stomach twisting. You hated that he saw it like that, and no matter how many times you talked about it Max didn’t seem to understand your point of view. You clenched your jaw, physically biting your tongue not to say anything back. Instead you concentrated back on the work on the cutting board, brows slightly furrowed. Things were quiet for a few moments, Max being busy with the meat in the frying pan, and you had almost blocked him out completely, deep in your own thoughts, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. Your back was softly pulled flush against his chest and a second later he nudged the side of your head with his nose.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing a few kisses against your cheek and down your shoulder. “Of course you have things to do here, I get that. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help but smile, the frown melting of your face in a second. How could you ever stay annoyed at him when he was this cuddly and cute? You placed the knife down, turning around in his rather tight grip to face him. Max looked down at you, tilting his head slightly as to ask if he was forgiven. You just reached up to grab his cheeks, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said when the two of you finally pulled apart. “But it’s just two weeks, right?”

“Hmm.” Max nodded, fingers pressing into the skin just above your hips. “Then I’ll come straight back home and I won’t leave your side for at least a few days.” You laughed at that, snaking your arms around his torso and leaning your head against his chest. Max pulled you even closer, a deep breath leaving his lips. You were going to miss him, but two weeks went fast and you told yourself that he’d be back, preferably with two wins under his belt, before you knew it.

~

The first race had been amazing. You had watched from home with some of your friends, absolutely ecstatic and somewhat tipsy as your boyfriend passed the finish line in first place what felt like hours ahead of the rest. When he called you after the win you had literally screamed into the phone how proud you were of him and hearing him laugh loudly on the other end had you smiling the whole night.

That was four days ago. You had been busy, work was more chaotic than normal and your limited freetime was spent in the library working on your thesis. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had missed a few of Maxs phone calls and when you’d called him back he had been busy instead. You texted a lot, but it had been a few days since you last heard his voice and you were starting to miss it.

Getting back late from the library, not at all happy with the work you had done, all you wanted to do was to call Max and have him tell you about his day. You knew he had been at the annual banquet in Jeddah last night, which he hated, and you were excited to hear all the gossip. You sunk down in the couch, making yourself comfortable as you searched up the results of the first practice round. You always wanted to know how things were going for Max before you spoke to him, partly to show him that you cared and partly because you wanted to know what mood he might be in. You smiled to yourself, pleased, when you saw him at the top of the rankings. Absentminded you begun to scroll down among the tweets, rolling your eyes at the people hating on Max and grinning proudly at all the people joking about how this season would just be win after win after win for him. Suddenly you stopped, a tweet written all in caps catching your eye.

MAX VERSTAPPEN LOOKING DAPPER WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE! DID HE LEAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND AT HOME?

You raised your eyebrows, not being able to stop yourself from clicking on the photos. Surely it was going to be something dumb, you were used to the rumors surrounding your boyfriend and you had simply learned to just tune them out. Scrolling through the pictures now, however, you could feel your stomach drop. It was blurry, but it was clearly Max. The photos were taken from far away but you saw him, dressed handsomely in a suit and bowtie, with his arms tightly wrapped around a tall blonde. Her back was turned against the camera so you couldn’t make out her face, but you didn’t recognize the body at all. The two of them seemed to be alone, standing outside what looked like the building where the banquet was held. In one picture Max was shown grabbing her cheeks, staring down at her. You squinted, as if that would help you distinguish his expression, but you couldn’t quite tell what was happening. You couldn’t deny that it sure looked like he was about to kiss her. Quickly locking your phone you dropped it in your lap, staring down at the black screen with wide eyes. That wasn’t just some rumor, something someone had claimed to see or made up. Those were real photos, photos of Max being way too close for comfort with someone who clearly wasn’t you. You knew you should calm down, take a step back until you could talk to him and let him explain. Surely there was an explanation that didn’t involve him actually cheating on you? Right? Before you had time to spiral further your phone lit up again, the picture of Max sleeping, drooling, in a cab you had as his contact photo illuminating your screen. Acting on reflex you picked it up, sliding your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Baby!” He seemed surprised that you answered but quickly regained himself. “Am I disturbing you? Are you at home?”

“I just got home.” You answered, frowning at the shortness of your own tone. You weren’t sure how to approach him, you weren’t even sure what to say. Were you mad? Sad?

“Good. Feels like we’ve just missed each other the past few days.” Max shuffled around on the other end and you assumed he was laying in bed. With a content sigh he spoke again and you could hear the smile on his face. “How are you my love?”

“I’m good.” You mumbled, clicking on the speaker icon and placing your phone down in your lap.

“How’s the thesis coming along? I assume you just came from the library?”

“Hmm, yeah I did. It’s fine.” Max obviously picked something up in your voice because he was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I hope you’re not spreading yourself too thin baby, you have to take a break sometimes.” His voice was full of concern and you don’t know if it was that or the pictures still haunting you but suddenly all you wanted was to be next to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Actually,” you began, deciding what to say as the words were coming out of your mouth. “I was thinking about maybe coming to you? I think I can make it to the race if I leave tomorrow and-“ you stopped as you heard Max laugh on the other end, stomach twisting at the sound you usually loved. That was not the reaction you wanted.

“You know I miss you but that’s crazy baby.” He chuckled. You could feel the pressure take form behind your eyes. “You have things to do and I’ll be home in less than a week.”

“Yeah but I want to see you now. I thought you’d want that too.” You hated that his reaction, a very reasonable reaction at that, left you feeling so hurt.

“Of course I want to see you, but you shouldn’t come all the way here when we both know-“

“I shouldn’t?” His choice of words felt like a punch in the stomach and you frowned down at the phone. Max took a second too long to respond so you spoke again. “Why shouldn’t I? You don’t want me there?”

“What’s all this coming from?” The smile was far gone from his voice and now he just sounded bewildered. “You’re the one who opted to stay home because you had work to do.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you’d cozy up with some other girl if I’m not there.”

You pressed your eyes shut, cringing at your own words the second they left your lips. You did not mean to put that out there like that. The line went quiet for a moment before Max broke the silence, voice as confused as it gets.

“What?”

You wanted to cry. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“Nothing Max. Don’t worry about it.” You snapped, hating yourself more every time you opened your mouth. You really needed this conversation to be over, preferably before you started to cry. “I’m actually really tired, I think I’m-“

“No no no, you don’t just get to throw something like that at me and then hang up. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You were rambling. “Just forget it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You heard Max say your name before you hung up, heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Okay, going off of your rise Leo headcanons, how would he react if the reader were to reveal they’ve never had the big o in any capacity? Not through themselves or through others? imo I think he’d consider it a travesty

He Realizes You’ve Never Had An Orgasm (Suggestive/Cracky?)

Rise!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Following my Random Headcanons About Leonardo (18+) and my First Time Headcanons (18+), this takes place several months before Leo admits his feelings to the reader. Hope this was what you were looking for💙

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Talk of orgasms, talk of sex, talk of masturbation, implied sex.

Leo was - at a lack for better words - absolutely fucking shocked. He would sit up straight on the couch, staring at you with his mouth hanging open, looking offended for some reason. For what reason you didn’t fully understand. He still hadn't even tried having his dick in you, so why on earth would he be offended? Not that he hadn’t tried. Just while sitting on your couch for a few hours, he had already been hitting on you several times, hinting STRONGLY at him wanting to, promising you he would give you a good time. That was when you finally told him that no one had ever been able to make you orgasm, so you had a very hard time believing that he would be any different… Maybe that was why he was acting so offended…

Then Leo - feeling no shame - would even have the guts to ask you, why you haven’t had an orgasm yet, suddenly looking much less offended, but instead very worried. Like you had just told him that you would die in a few months, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

“How the hell would I know?”, you said after letting him know how rude that kind of question could be for some people. He was just lucky that you saw him as a friend. “Because people keep saying so much but never living up to it?”

“Well, not everyone can be as good as me. That’s simply not possible”, Leo said, becoming his usually cocky self. “But at least you’ve had the pleasure of an orgasm from your own hand. Not my favorite, but certainly better than none at all”. But when met with silence from you, and when you suddenly avoided looking at him, instead taking a sip of your drink, Leo sat up straight, looking much more shocked than before, screaming - still with no shame - at the top of his lungs; “YOU HAVE NEVER MADE YOURSELF ORGASM?!”

The rest of the evening you could hear him mumble things along the lines of; "I can't believe you've never had an orgasm. Are you sure you're okay?"

For the next two months, Leo would follow every pick up line up with a comment, on how he was going to rock your world with your first orgasm, at times even giving you a long list of ways he would do it, getting more and more shamless with each point.

That didn’t get him anywhere with you, but he would bring it up every once in a while, as he was hoping that he could tempt you in some way. Instead you would roll your eyes at him and keep dreaming.

But in the end, Leo would be the one to give you your first orgasm, after he finally decided to drop the fuck boy attitude, and finally reveal his true feelings for you. But not only would Leo give you your first orgasm, but he also proved to you that he indeed was capable of everything he had been telling you for so long.

[gojo-mochi]

Softyyy~ is your req still open? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ueueue you know how I adore your writing badly I can’t pass this opportunity 😖 ueue if it’s still open can I please req sabo being absolute feral, needy and nasty? wkwjskwswks the rest is up to you xD

thank youuuu🫶🏻

HIIIIIII OMG IM SO SORR FOR THE WAITTTTTTT I HOPE IT GOOD AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENJOYINH MY WRITING SJKDF AHH I BLUSEHD WHEN I SAW UR ASK DSKF DFDF

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Female Reader! Canon world! Established Relationship!

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Warnings: Mentions of wounds and blood, nightmares, lack of appetite, depression symptoms, etc.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Sexual Content: Creampie, unprotected sex, lots of biting, overstimulations, close pussyeating, cum eating, spit.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Word Count: 7k +

105 days, 7 hours, 52 minutes, 13 seconds, and counting. Sabo had been gone from you for that long. Usually, he was accustomed to leaving on extended, secret missions, far from his friends and, in fact, everyone he knew. However, since you and him began dating, Sabo has been unable to tolerate being apart from you, crying on the inside like an anxious puppy when his owner is out of sight. 

A nervous puppy with the abilities of a professional killer, but to you he was still a puppy. 

The mission he was sent on was extremely important, and one he could not fail. Failure would result in months or even years of setbacks in the army's advancement. Even so, it was not any easier to leave you, he kept you in his arms for as long as he could. Holding you close to his chest, your heartbeats synchronizing themselves with each other. 

You were the first to begin to distance yourself from his warmth by leaning away, which only caused Sabo to draw you closer. He inhales deeply as he tries to recall every single thing about you before he had to depart. Tears sting at the corner of your eye, but you suppress them. Instead of leaving Sabo with tears in your eyes, you wanted him to remember that you were smiling. So, he would know that you’ll be just fine without him for a while. 

Hearing a sniffle, Sabo slowly pulls back, bringing his hands up to your face and holding them tenderly. Wiping away the single tear that escaped from your glossy eyes. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything too stupid.” You breathe out quietly, looking up at your lover’s face for the last time in a while. 

“I promise, my dear. I promise you that nothing in this world will keep me from coming back to you.”

He pulls you in for a long kiss, your lips finding their place onto his right away. You two stayed there for a long while, not parting a bit even for air. As you concentrate solely on Sabo, the sounds around you gradually fade away because you wanted to absorb much of this moment as possible

*bwAAAAAAAHHHP!*

The ferry horn blaring in the air startled you both out of the kiss, a thin trail of saliva formed a bridge between your bottom lips and his. Sabo was the first one to laugh, a cheery and airy laugh that washed away any last lingering anxiety held in your chest. 

“Looks like the crew is mad at me for being late, oh well, it was worth it.” He winks at you. 

He takes hold of your face, gives you a final peck on the cheek, and leaves, knowing that if he lingered a moment longer, he would notice your dejected expression and would instantly falter. You wiped away any more tears that were starting to form and yelled at Sabo as he boarded the ship, waving your arms in the air.

Screaming your farewells, sending your best wishes, and letting your heart run wild. You didn’t stop until you saw the ship leave over the horizon, your arms and throat sore from all the waving and shouting you did. It was all worth it though, you needed to let everything go this moment because you know the next few days, weeks, or even months will be miserable without him. 

And it was…

Every day that went by without a letter or any kind of news from his crew was agony to your very soul. The rest of the Revolutionary Army tried their best to cheer you up or soothe your worries, saying that Sabo was one of their best agents and he always came back from a mission. 

You knew that, but sometimes he doesn’t come back unscathed, sometimes the mission takes a heavy toll on him, whether that be mentally or physically.

Late at night, when he is at his most vulnerable, you can see the scars on his body and behind his eyes. The night terrors that would cause him to scream and claw at his own skin, the tears that he kept hidden from the public, shedding themselves in front of you. 

All the scars, stitches, and bruises that you took care of and looked after when Sabo said it wasn’t that big of a deal to everyone else. You knew Sabo trusted you enough to let his guard down with you, and you never wanted to betray that trust. You witnessed all of those moments and held them near and dear to your heart. 

So, whenever someone approached you and commented on Sabo’s toughness and resilience, saying how he’d be back in no time, you simply nodded along and smiled. Holding your hands to your chest tightly to fight down the anxious thoughts as you wish for his safety night after night. 

Once the second month passed, the anxiety started wearing down your body. Heavy bags under your eyes, a sickly complexion, your clothes being a little bigger on you than normal. Your smile now did little to sway the frowns on other people’s faces when they came up to check on you. You still had hope in your voice that he would come back to you safe, but everyone could see that hope was dying slowly as the days passed by.

Then, finally, a letter came. It was brief and had to be burned immediately after, but it contained news. Both good and bad news for how the mission was going, but at least you knew that Sabo was still alive, and that brought a smile back on your face. Though your heart did sink at the fact that the mission would take even longer than expected now, you did your best not to let this get to you.

Busying yourself with helping around the base, picking up new hobbies every week, anything to distract your mind from Sabo and his wellbeing. And soon another month had passed with not another letter being passed to you. For the past few weeks, your bed has been piled on high with Sabo’s clothing on top, you just needed to be near him in some way. Bundling up to his sweaters and holding his coats to your chest helped you sleep a little easier. The scent was wearing off with each night that passes, but you needed this or you felt like you were going to go crazy. 

“Y/N really, you can stay at my place tonight.”

Koala tugs at your arm, a gentle smile on her face.

“We could stay up all night if you want too! I have lots of card games up my sleeve that I can teach you! Oh! I can even try to teach you some fishman karate too!”

Koala starts to bounce up and down, listing off all the fun activities you two could do together.

You lightly shake your head and try to return her smile back, but she could tell it was forced. 

“Thank you, but I’m really okay alone. I’ll come see you for breakfast in the morning though, I promise.”

Koala lets go of your arm, with a frown forming on her face, but she didn’t push you anymore.

“Fine… but you better come in the morning! In fact, I’ll come over to your room and drag you out myself if I have to!”

Koala gives you a bone-crushing hug that squeezes the air out of your lungs. 

After a few harrowing seconds, you can breathe normally again. You said your goodbyes to Koala and promised her again that you'd be fine for the night. 

You start your trek back to your shared room with Sabo, stopping in front of the door with your hand on the handle. As some part of you prayed that somehow Sabo would magically appear behind the door if you believed hard enough. 

The door creaks open to a dark room, the clothes pile on the bed seems even lonelier tonight, you sigh and shuffle your way in. Throwing your shoes to the side and just gathering enough energy to shimmer out of your top and pants. You crawl up on the bed dressed down to your undies, grabbing a random shirt from the pile and shoving your face in the soft fabric, inhaling as much of Sabo’s lingering scent left on there as you can. 

With no more tears left to shed lately, you hugged the shirt tighter and willed your body and mind to go to sleep. 

A few hours go by before you fall asleep completely, still holding a shirt in your hand as your body huddles next to the heap of old clothing. You barely stir when you hear the door creak open. You turn over on your back as you hear more sounds—shoes scuffing on the floor, rustling, and then a voice that seems so distant.

A hand presses against your cheek, then the voice comes closer to you. With your mind still exhausted, it takes a while to realize that something was happening. You mumble something, and the voice laughs at you. You frown at being laughed at.

Your hands go to swat at the voice, still thinking it was just a part of your dreams, only to hit something surprisingly warm and sturdy. Your fingers start to trace whatever you just hit, pinching and pulling at it. 

The voice snorts at you, gently taking your hand away and holding it in theirs. Your eyes start to fly awake at this moment; a figure comes closer to your vision as you do. 

The figure stops just a few inches short of your face. You lift your head up to try to get a better look as your vision begins to clean up. What was blurry forms of dark blue and yellow soon turned into a real-life Sabo right in front of your eyes. 

Sabo smiles at you, going to pinch at your cheek as he says, “Hey there, beautiful, miss me?”

You gawk at him, your eyes goes wide. “Sabo..? Sabo? SABO!” 

You immediately leap from the bed into his waiting arms, with the heaps of clothing following in right behind you. But you didn’t care at that point, Sabo was back, and that was all you cared about right now. 

“Sabo! Oh my- Sabo I thought you-! I mean- I really didn’t think you be dead but sometimes I- I just worried so much and-” 

Your hurried words quickly transformed into sobbing blubbers, and Sabo listened to it all and comforted you.

“I know, I know.. I’m so sorry for being so late. The mission just got out of hand, and no…….. No, not tonight, I don’t want to talk about the mission tonight. Tonight is all going to be just about you, my darling.” 

Sabo holds your face in his hands, wiping away all your tears as he starts to pepper you with kisses. Sabo kisses you from the forehead down to your lips and nose, then down to your neck, where he also gives you a few bites. His teeth grazing down on your soft skin, with just enough pressure for it to leave a mark.

Your body reacts to the attention quickly, as low whimpers form on your lips. “Sa-Sabo, wait-you just got back and-”

Sabo nips at your collarbone, eliciting another moan from you. He pulls back just enough so he could look in the eyes. 

"Darling, please, I can’t wait any longer. Every waking moment I was on that mission, I was plagued by thoughts of you. I came here as fast as I could just to get to you, I didn’t care about anything else.”

You didn’t realize it before, but now that you got a better look at Sabo, you could see just how haggard he looked, his clothes had dark stains and were torn in some places. His body was covered in scars and bruises, both recent and old. 

“Sabo! Did you not go see the doctor before you came here!? Oh my god, I think you’re still bleeding some places too, we need to go see them right now.”

You make a move to get up, but Sabo quickly pulls you back down and pins you to the bed. Even in his weakened state, he was still overpowering you. His trembling hands press down on your exposed shoulders. You look up at him, much too worried about his condition more than anything else.

“Sabo, you’re hurt… we need to get you to the doctor.”

Your voice was gentle but firm, and as much as you missed his touch, you cared more about his health than anything else. At least that's what you kept telling yourself, in truth, you felt that your own self-control was slipping quite rapidly. 

Sabo leans down to rest his head on the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. You feel his hot breath ghost over your neck, sending shivers down to your core. 

"Darling, please, you don’t understand. I need you. I crave you.”

"I miss your scent, your body, your voice, your taste, and everything else about you," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. His tongue slides up your neck, and his finger slides under your bra strap as he begins to pull it down. Pressing his tongue right over your pulse point, you whimper at his advances, feeling your guard lower with each passing second. You needed this too. How many times did you wake up with wet panties from a dream about Sabo's touch?

.

.

.

Fuck it, Sabo survived worse-looking wounds before.

You gave in, pulling Sabo in for a long overdue kiss. Your lips crash into each other with vigor, with teeth clashing and nose bumping pain, but you both didn’t care about that. Sabo’s tongue slipped into your mouth first, wet and sloppy with no sense of the control he usually has. Sabo moaned at finally tasting you again, drool dribbling down both your chins from how messy this kiss is.

His hands fiddled with your bra for a bit, practically ripping it to get it off of you. His hands then roamed down to the hem of your panties, shimmying them down as far as he could while he was still stuck to you. 

With you being almost fully naked now, Sabo wasted no time feeling up every inch of your body, his hands squeezing and pinching on your soft belly, rubbing up and down like he was mapping out your body in his mind. You squealed into his mouth when he squeezed you, feeling a little bashful about your body now.

You turn your head to break away from the kiss for a moment, trying to say something, but Sabo didn’t let you escape his grasp for too long. Quickly maneuvering himself between your legs as he literally tears the panties off of you with his bare hands. 

They were such a cute pair too…

He pins you down by the shoulders again as he takes over your mouth, snaking his tongue in as far down your throat as he can. He grunts as he pins both of your hands above your head and cuffs them with just one of his. 

You struggle and move from beneath Sabo, but his grip renders your arms useless. Even your legs are useless as you flail them around. Any more attempts would only further wear you down, you could only give in at this point. Letting Sabo take total control of you right now, allowing your mind to become clouded by desire as you feel every movement of his tongue. 

Sabo gives you some mercy, after a while, breaking the kiss and letting you have air again. You take in a few gulps of air and look at your lover, whose chin was absolutely covered in slobber now. His eyes aflame with desire, looking right back at you, held no shame for how he was acting. 

Sabo continued his assault on your neck, licking and nibbling at every square inch of your skin while keeping you pinned. Covering you in love bites that would be a pain to cover up in the morning later.

“Sa-Sabo, slow down a bit, nggh-please?” 

You did want him badly, so fucking badly, but Sabo was acting a little bit differently than he usually is tonight. Your worries start to creep their way in through the fog inside your brain. 

You feel Sabo shake his head against your neck, his free hand dragging down your side, fingers pushing against the softness of your body. All the way down to the side of your hips, his thumb circling right above your cunt. 

“Can’t slow down, need ya’ too badly.” Sabo whispered out. His nose presses against the curve of your neck as he pushes his thumb down onto your clit. You shudder out a moan at the feeling, eyes fluttering down as Sabo works his magic on your cunt. 

“Just enjoy it, my love. And, let me enjoy you…”

His thumb swirls and flicks at your precious little nub, getting it to be nice and hard. His other fingers swipe at your folds, coating them in your slick. Barely pushing the tips of his fingers in your opening, just teasing you with each stroke of his hand. 

“You’re tighter than normal, didn’t touch yourself when I was gone?” Sabo asked in a slightly strained voice. After that, he tilts his head downward and bites your collarbone too forcefully, causing a bit of blood to seep from the wound.

You mewled out in pain at the increasing amount of bite marks Sabo was giving you. Sabo's face falters at this, and making an apologetic noise from the back of his throat. He soothes your pain by licking at the wounds, his hot tongue lapping up the crimson liquid quite greedily. You crane your head backward, allowing Sabo to lick at every other wound he gave so far, his thumb slowly increasing pressure on your now swollen clit.

A brief thought then passes through Sabo’s mind: ‘What if you got with another man while he was gone?’ 

“Answer me, darling. Did you or did you not play with yourself when I was gone?”

Sabo trusted you with his life and all his secrets, but his insecurities did get the best of him sometimes, rearing their ugly head in the worst moments. 

You were too focused on trying not to cum too fast from his fingers that you didn’t really hear his question. Biting your lip to try to keep yourself in check. Your silence only made Sabo more anxious, he upped his tactics. Moving down and latching his lips onto your nipple and sucking harshly. Your body arched off the bed, colliding with Sabo’s, who was gently using his teeth on your now hardened bud. 

He pushed his fingers about an inch inside your cunt, only two for now, he wanted you to work for more. Moans and whimpers came from you, soft pleas for him to stop teasing you and fuck you already, it’s been too long. 

Sabo shakes his head, unlatching from your breast and curling his fingers deeper inside your cunt. 

“Not until you answer, darling~, did anyone touch what’s mine while I was gone, hmm?”

“Huh-ngghh! Sabo-please!” 

Before you even had the chance to think about your answer, Sabo starts plunging his fingers in and out of your wetness at a skillful pace, letting go of your wrists as well so he could cup your face to make you look at him. 

“Answer. Me. Love.”

Your eyes try to focus on Sabo and answer his question, but the heat pooling up inside your belly was getting too much to handle. You were only focused on how Sabo's fingers were long, how rough he was going, how his fingers hit all the right places inside you, and how much you wanted him to fuck you right away. 

"N-no, mmph-ngh-I-fuck."

You mumble out an answer as best you could, your breath shaky and unstable, as your whole body began to tense up for the oncoming orgasm. 

Sabo’s lips twitch upward at your answer, “No? So, no one touched this pretty, pretty pussy while I was gone. Are you certain? He cooed in a mocking tone. 

He squeezed your face a bit as drool dribbled out of your mouth and onto his fingers. Your eyes were closed, and you moaned pathetically, just wanting to focus on feeling good, but Sabo didn’t let you. You opted to just shake your head to answer him and just let go of your body’s control and let the orgasm wash over you.

“Ah-hah-mghmm-fuck! Sabo!”

You cum all over Sabo’s fingers, soaking the bedsheet beneath you. Your mouth falling open as you feel your body instantly relaxing and falling limp under Sabo. In the aftermath, your head falls back onto the pillow and your legs twitch slightly. Everything about you feels heavy now, your mind is already spent after one orgasm. 

Too bad Sabo wasn’t going to let you off that easily. 

Sabo lets go of your hands, leaning back on his knees as he starts to take off his clothes. Through your blurry vision, you could somewhat make out Sabo towering over you in this position, your cunt throbs at the thought of what is to come. 

“Fuckin hell- this is taking too long.” After undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, Sabo got annoyed at how slow this was taking.

Then, in Sabo's hand, a tiny fire appeared. It quickly leaped onto his chest and spread thinly down his body. Burning the troublesome buttons right off, along with some of his pants. Sabo quickly rips off the remaining burned garments. 

In one fluid motion, Sabo grabs your legs, pushing them apart and huddling himself right between them. His newly freed cock, hard and dripping, was now pressed against your thigh. Smearing the precum on your soft skin as he climbs over your body to fully face you. His hair falling down to his eyes, his usually kempt appearance now switched to one of a wild animal. 

He grabbed his cock and started rubbing the tip of it right on top of your clit, tapping against the sensitive swollen bud a few times to see your reaction. Then he pushes forward, sliding his cock in between your folds but not entering just yet. 

Getting your juices mixed in with his precum as he keeps on sliding back and forth, using your own slick as makeshift lube to cover up his cock. Sighing heavily at the feeling, Sabo fought his self-control to just plunge himself deep inside you, he still felt like he needed to get you more wet before he could enter. 

Rocking his hips back and forth on top of you, Sabo let his cock rub up all against your wet cunt, barely teasing it inside on some swings. The thick tip of his cock brushing up against your clit, making you feel his pulsing veins as he drags it back down. Sabo enjoyed seeing how your pussy fluttered against his cock when he was teasing you like this. 

You were getting more impatient with each passing, you needed him to fill you up, to remind you who you belonged to. 

“Sabo! Please, please, just fuck me already. I need you bad! Please!” 

You whimper and mewl out his name and try to wiggle your hips in an attempt to get his cock inside you faster. Sabo’s last remaining shred of self-control broke in that moment. Watching and listening to you beg for his cock just made everything in him snap. He spits down right on top of your cunt and his cock, rubbing the savlia in with his hands as he used two fingers to spread open you open.

Easing the tip of his cock in the opening little by little, really feeling much, he was stretching you out. He leans over more so his cock could get in just the right position to pound you fully. 

“Fuck… darling, you’re so good to me. So, so good to me.” Sabo grunts out as his cock was halfway deep inside of your cunt. Already feeling pussydrunk from how tight and warm your pussy was making his cock feel. He captures your lips with his once again, greedily stealing all of your gasps and whimpers as his cock fully sinks inside you. His hands grab you by the hips as he begins to slowly fuck you, the pace steadily increasing speed with each thrust. You feel Sabo moan in your mouth, his tongue going slack as he starts to focus more on pounding your cunt. 

You definitely felt the weight and the girth of Sabo’s cock in this moment. The stretch was a bit painful at the start, and the pace he was going at made you see stars. His cock was filling you up like never before. You felt like a virgin from how your pussy felt around him. Your hands clamber up to his shoulders, and your nails dig into his back as you try to steady yourself from how rough Sabo was going. The bed underneath you two shook heavily, and some articles of clothing fell from the pile as Sabo kept on ramming you. 

Sabo was gone at this point, the only thought in his head was breeding you, fucking you, and keeping his cock inside you at all times. Even in the small window where he had to pull his cock back, Sabo hated the feeling of not being squeezed by your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes, yes, yes! Mine, mine, mine, you’re mine, this pussy is mine. All mine, mine, mine!”

Sabo rambles on and on, repeating the word “Mine” a lot, his hips repeatedly slamming into yours, his hands roaming all over your body. Sabo’s hand felt like lava on your skin, in fact, Sabo’s whole body was heating up immensely. The entire room felt like a sauna at the moment, with steam rising to the ceiling. 

You felt the pleasure really start to increase inside you, your nails dug in deeper on Sabo’s back, clawing all the way down as you lost your mind. 

“Sabo, nghh, hahhh-ah! Mm-more! Yes!”

Your vision goes white as you reach climax, your legs go to hook around Sabo’s back, bringing him impossibly closer to you. Sabo groans as your cunt spasms around his cock, trying to milk every single drop out of him. He came soon after you did, spilling his hot seed inside of you. 

Everything was hot, too hot, you felt like you could melt into a puddle on the spot if it got any hotter. You felt sweat everywhere on your body, and you could feel it dripping off of Sabo as well, little beadlets of sweat dropping down on your chest as Sabo hovers above you. His breathing slow and heavy, his eyes meet with yours, and you muster up a tired smile in response. 

He smiles back, pulling forward to give you a chaste kiss on the lips before saying. 

“We’re not finished yet, you know that, right, my love?” 

A mixture of fear, excitement, and anticipation coiled through you, you didn’t know if you could handle another fucking like that, but your body was saying otherwise. Your pussy clenched at the thought, and Sabo felt that, with his cock still buried inside of you. 

“I knew you were ready for another round.” He said cheekily. 

You try to lean up on your elbows, only to find yourself lacking the energy to do even that. Falling right back down on the pillow, you look up at Sabo, biting your lips in contemplation. 

“Could you at least go slower this time? Please?” Your voice a little hoarse and meek. 

Sabo pats down your sweat-soaked hair and smiles brightly at you. “Don’t need to ask twice, baby. I’ll go extra slow for you, just relax and lay back. I’ll do all the work.” He coos at you gently, going in and burying his face in the nook of your neck. 

Taking in a deep inhale of your scent and licking up some of the sweat that pooled up on your skin. Sabo moans deeply at your taste, making you blush from embarrassment. Sabo placed his palms down on the bed and heaved himself up on them. So, he could look down at your expression as he started to slowly roll his hips forward once more. 

Dragging his cock deeper inside your sore cunt, your eyelashes fluttering down at the feeling. The stretch wasn't there anymore, but you could feel bruises forming from the earlier slamming. 

Sabo’s eyes didn’t leave your face as he continued on, enjoying all the cute expressions you were making. This was making you feel a bit self-conscious, and you turned your head away and tried to muffle any noises. 

Sabo had none of that and gently grabbed your chin and pulled you back to face him. 

“Look at me.”

Your lips quiver, and you still keep your eyes closed. You hear Sabo sigh softly, his hips picking up the pace, making you moan a little, your body trying its best to match him. 

Sabo’s other hand creeps up the side of your thigh, gently massaging it. His fingers warm and calloused, you could feel all the little scars he had on there as his hands glided up and down on your skin. 

“Pretty girl. Shy girl, so shy. You missed me, but now you can’t even look at me huh?” Sabo teased.

Your ears burn more at this, but you still refused to look at him. 

“That’s alright, you can just focus on the fully feeling me then.” 

Sabo purrs the last line as his hand moves up to the side of your hips, his fingers fanning out to gently rub on your clit. The light pressure on there was still enough to make your body jump from the feeling. Sabo used his pointer finger to rub small, lazy circles on your sensitive nub as his cock sinks in deeper. 

Sabo leans down back to your neck, his tongue lapping over all the bite marks he left there before. Trailing down to your collarbone and then over your breasts, where his breath ghosts over your nipples. His tongue snaking out to lap over your perky bud, circling around it a few times with the tip of the wet muscle. 

You mewl out in pleasure, feeling so full and so stimulated by everything that Sabo was doing to you currently. His cock sitting heavily inside you, his finger still rubbing on your clit, and now his tongue flicking against your nipple. All the pleasure was rapidly building up inside of you once more, but you still needed that push to let it all out. 

Your hand goes to the back of Sabo’s head, fingers in his hair, as you try to push him down further on your chest. Hoping that he gets the hint. And of course he does, his tongue is soon replaced by a pair of warm lips. As Sabo latches on to your bud and starts softly sucking on your breast. His body finally moving again, as he starts to slowly fuck you, his length felt bigger than before. 

Hitting deeper with each hit, Sabo didn’t go as fast as before, but this pace was more than enough to make you squirm. His fingers did not relent on your poor clit, as Sabo switched over to his thumb, flicking his appendage back and forth in rapid succession. 

This was getting too much for you, you began to shimmy your way back on the bed, away from the overstimulating feeling, away from Sabo. Sabo notices this and bites down on your nipple, making you yelp in surprise. His hands grab you by the hips and pull you back, practically slamming you down on his length. 

“Don’t move.” Sabo growled. His mouth still latched on to your poor abused bud, he lets you feel his teeth go over your nipple once more as a warning as his pace gets rougher. 

The sounds of skin slapping against each other and your weak and pitiful cries filled the room, Sabo soon added his own noises as he slurped messily on your chest. Switching from side to side, making sure that each one got their own set of attention from him. 

“Sa-Sabo! G’onn- Gonna!” 

Too fast. Too hard. Too much. Everything was too much for you, you were going to lose it, and Sabo was close behind you. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, oh god-fuck, cum, cum, cum for me, love.” 

Sabo moans unabashedly, lifting up your hips and hitting in a new angle that pushed you over the breaking point for the second time tonight. 

Your hands claw up into Sabo’s side as your vision goes white and you release all over Sabo. This time you squirted all over yourself and Sabo, covering the bedsheets underneath you even more with your wetness. However, you were too exhausted to give a damn at this point.

Sabo was in heaven at this point, feeling your wetness gush all over him was like jumping into the fountain of youth. His grip on your hips didn’t falter one bit, in fact, it only got stronger. His fingers dug into the plushness of your skin and pulled your drained body right up to his, as his thrusts became shaky. Sabo just needed to feel more of you, screw with precision, or trying to find the best spots to hit, he just wanted his cock to as deep inside you as humanly possible. And if there was a way beyond that point, Sabo would find it or die trying. 

“Fuck-mm-haahh, love! Oh my-ngh, gonna fill you up again-so badly.You’re mine-mm, all mine, mine, mine forever.”

Sabo’s eyes started to cross from the bliss he was feeling right now, your pussy was still so tight around him, and you were so warm. Each thrust he could see and hear, both his cum and your own slick come out of your cunt. It was a sight he wanted to engrave into his mind, even if he had to forget everything else to have it there. 

“Mmm-hnngh, hahhh, Oh lo-love.”

Sabo’s eyes travel up to your face, watching you with your fucked-out look. The way your tits bounce, your mouth hanging open, your eyes barely open, but he could still see how absolutely beautiful you looked in his eyes. One of Sabo’s hands leaves your hip as he grasps the top of the headboard behind you, getting leverage as he relentlessly fucks you for the last ounce of power he still has in his body. 

His grip on the headboard was so strong it started breaking the wood there. Sabo was reduced to a beast in this moment, with just the primal need to breed. He feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest, the heat moving all throughout his body, his balls tightening once more, ready to release all his love inside you. 

With a final move of his hip, Sabo buries his cock as deep as it could go and came. His seed spurting out all at once, accidentally ripping a piece of the headboard as he finishes. He lets go of your hip, letting your body drop back down to the bed, your legs trembling and sore from all the abuse that it went through tonight. 

Your stomach felt like it was a furnace now, as Sabo’s cum was still being pumped inside. You felt so full from all of it. It felt like forever until Sabo finally pulled his cock for good tonight, his length twitching a little and covered in a mixture of your and his love. 

Sabo threw away the broken piece of headboard somewhere on the ground and made a move to get off the bed. You watch him wearily as he pushes some clothes aside and moves you closer to the middle of the bed, tucking your head underneath a fluffed pillow and grabbing a blanket to cover you with. 

There was your sweet, gentlemanly Sabo. You close your eyes and get ready to get a good night of sleep with Sabo by your side. 

As Sabo gets back on, you feel the bed dip, and then the blanket moves, but something was not right. Sabo wasn’t getting in to sleep beside you, he was getting under the blanket for some reason. You focus your gaze on the blob moving underneath the blanket, trying to gauge what the hell Sabo was doing under there.

‘Did he drop something? Or did the sex wear him out so badly that he forgot how to sleep in a proper bed?’

Your mouth moves open to speak, but instead a small yelp comes out instead, as you feel something wet move across your thigh. 

“Sabo!”

You lift the blanket up to see what was happening and see Sabo in between your legs, his tongue still out in the middle of a blep.

Sabo smiles at you cheekily, rubbing his cheek on the thigh he just licked, “Sorry for scaring you, love. Don’t mind me, I’m just helping clean you up.” He gives your thigh a wet kiss. 

“Saboooo, I’m tired and too sensitive.” You whined, you knew that any more stimulation on your clit would be too painful right now. 

“I promise, I’m just gonna to clean you up and not do anything else, dear.” Sabo flutters his eyelashes at you, trying his best to make puppy dog eyes as well. Your guard did lower a bit at the sight. 

“Fine…”

You were too tired to argue any further anyway, you put the blanket back down and closed your eyes. Finding the best position to sleep in with Sabo between your legs, you mumble out a goodnight to Sabo. 

“Goodnight, my princess.” Sabo purred, softly kissing a lot on your thigh. To your surprise, Sabo didn’t go wild at all. He was soft and gentle, doing small kitten licks on your skin, lapping up all the stains and areas. Moving to the inner part of your thigh, his hair tickling your skin a little bit, but it wasn’t that bothersome overall. 

Your hand moves down to pat Sabo on the head, absentmindedly running your fingers through his blonde locks, as your body starts to cool down and nod off to sleep. 

Sabo goes to the other side of your thigh and finishes cleaning over there, taking his time to lap up all the leftover creme. Allowing the sweet nectar to sit on his tongue for a bit before he swallows it down. 

Then, he moves up to your cunt, and being a man true to his word. He was gentle with this area, lapping up very slowly, making sure not to touch your clit too much. Just using the flat of his tongue to cover as much area as possible with each swipe. The feeling was oddly comforting in a way to you. 

You fell asleep far before he was done with cleaning, your hand still laid on top of his head. Your body softly snoozing away, with Sabo’s hand on your stomach feeling the rise and fall of your chest with each breath you take. 

When Sabo was done with his job, he shifted his body upward just a bit so he could lay his head on your stomach. Not wanting to accidentally shake you awake, he was fine with cuddling you here under the blanket together. 

His eyes flutter closed for the last time tonight as he holds your hand in his.

.

.

.

Morning comes quietly, you were the first to wake up, finding your body extremely sore but happy at the same time. You stretch your arms out and let out a big groan, feeling your shoulder muscles being pulled. You feel something move under the blanket and lift it up to find Sabo, sleeping comfortably on top of your stomach. He was like a heat pad for you all throughout the night. 

He nuzzles his cheek on your stomach closer when you try to poke him away. You huff at this, knowing that he was probably awake the moment you were. You poke his forehead again, Sabo jokingly bites at it in return. You pinch his cheek in retaliation, giggling at his reaction. 

“Come on, I feel gross and sticky. I need a shower. We both need showers, actually.” 

You make a move to get off the bed, but Sabo pulls you back in by wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Nooo, stay.” Rubbing his face on your belly as he whines quietly.

You ruffle his hair and sigh, smiling at your lover’s silly antics. With the sunlight coming in the room, you could see just how bad some of Sabo’s injuries were now, along with the multiple bruises and marks littered across your body. 

“Come on, we both need to go to medical anyway. I’ll help you wash up in the shower if you get up now.”

Sabo’s ears perk up like a puppy’s, and he eagerly looks up at you with awaiting eyes. 

“You promise?” 

“Yes, dear.” You lean down for a kiss, lingering on his lips for a second as you look into each other's eyes. Sabo leans back in for a longer, more passionate kiss, his hand going to the back of your nape. Softly biting at your bottom lip as his tongue tries to sneak in your mouth. You shake your head but your body didn’t deny the need for him again. 

‘What about we do a quickie, then shower, and then I promise to be a good boy and go to medical?’ Sabo blinks his wide eyes at you as his hand lowers to your thigh, squeezing it softly. 

Your brain fights for an answer, the horny side really wants to do it again, but the rational side says that you should take him to medical sooner than later. 

“I-”

“GOOD MORNING WORLD! TIS IS I! KOALA HERE TO TAKE MY LOVELY FRIEND TO BREAK-EEEEEEEEEE!”

You were interrupted by Koala bursting into the room, all merry-like. You forgot that about the breakfast thing… and now she sees you and Sabo, butt-naked in bed together. 

“Sabo?! You’re back and you’re naked! Oh my god-sorry-I gotta take this call and goodbye!”

As quickly as she burst in, Koala left. Leaving a snickering Sabo leaning over on top of you. 

You soon join him in laughter. Though your cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment, it was good to have Sabo back. Everything was the way it should be now. 

Well, except for Koala’s poor eyes.

[alottiegoingon]

could you write bsf!lucy and reader practicing for boys. r’s loud and lucy has to shut her up because no one can know!!!!

i just KNOW she’d be whispering “shh, shh, baby, i know.” as she fingers reader ÑWIFKANFKSJWOFKS sorry im ovulating :/

lucy maclean x bsf!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), fingering, pet names, just a short and not proofread blurb (pls ignore the mistakes its 1am)

this made me so 😵‍💫 i hope you like it!!

living in the vault was fun. everyone had their own way to contribute to the community and the days were filled with lots of things to be done in order to the wellbeing of everyone. but for you and lucy, it could also be very boring.

lucy, always the perfect role model for everyone, was the perfect best friend as well. talking about boys and fantasizing about sex and marriage was one of the best things you guys did together but regardless of the many hours you spent gossiping, you were still insecure about not being good enough. and that’s how lucy came up with the magnificent idea of hers. she used to practice with her cousin all the time, it would be practically the same if she did it with her best friend. right?

and that’s how she ended up in your bed.

“you have to relax for me, okay?” she breathes, hot puffs of breath hitting your face. lucy was on top of you, face millimeters away and arm resting on the mattress to support half of her weight.

after toying with your wet and puffy clit, watching the many reaction of yours attentively and feeling aroused by how your face contorted in pleasure, her fingers were now playing with your entrance, threatening to go in.

you could barely get a hold on yourself, hips involuntarily thrusting up to feel more of her.

gently, she pushed a single finger inside of you first just to get you used to it and you immediately felt overwhelmed. your soaked pussy clenches around her and your mouth hangs open to mimic a silent scream as you feel your tight insides being filled.

your hands reach for her arm and you grip on her skin, squirming under her.

“oh, you’re tight” she groans, fingers completely still inside of you. slowly, she begins to pump in and out of you and you can’t help but dig your nails into her arm, holding it in place and keeping her hand hidden by your halfway open jumpsuit. “you’re doing so great, love.”

when you were just adjusting yourself, lucy adds another finger and your legs feel weak, shaking. in the same instance, the first noise of yours left your ajar lips. a husky and loud moan followed by widened eyes and eyes full of terror looking at your best friend.

lucy seems to understand your silent feelings almost immediately but she doesn’t stop. instead, you feel her fingers getting deeper and you wriggle harder underneath hear.

“no, no. it’s okay.” she reassures you with a comforting grin and it takes you no time to relax and let her do whatever she pleases. “it feels good, doesn’t it?” you watch her shift in bed, now on her knees in bed between your legs.

and you urgently nods. lucy picks up the pace of her own thrusts and her fingers go deeper, finding your sweet spot and curling her digits right on place, rubbing it. you roll your eyes and your toes curl as not just one or two but many eager moans come out hurting your throat.

“lucy!” you gasp, “oh my god.”

worried about the thick walls of the vault not being nearly enough to silence you, lucy hurries to shush you, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the sounds. “shh, baby. i know, i know.” she whispers, soothing and smooth, eyes locked on you. “keep it down, angel.”

with lucy’s fingers frantically going in and out of your pussy, a knot begins to forms in your stomach and as an unconscious response, you desperately try to close your legs just for her to stop your attempt by briefly letting go of your mouth to slap your upper thigh and spread your legs further. “nu-uh. keep them open, sweetie.”

your breath gets more and more ragged followed by suppressed moans barely making into a coherent sentence. hips fervently moving and matching lucy’s pace, you cheeks flush as you were humping her fingers. “don’t hold it, bunny. it’s okay.”

and with her magic words, your entire body gets taut, eyes fluttering shut, pleasure coiling inside of you and back arching as you come undone, making a mess out of lucy’s fingers. whimpering into her hand and shaking beneath her, you try to recover yourself as she gradually stops fingering you.

“you did so good. i’m proud of you.” withdrawing her fingers from you and her hand from your mouth, lucy smiles at you, not bothered by her fingers coated in your cum.

panting, you finally mumble a few breathy words. “that was so hot…” and she just shakes her head with a cute smug smirk while leaning up towards you to fix your hair and brush it off your sweaty forehead.

“should i… try now? just to make sure you’re ready too.” not sure of what the answer would be, you decide to take the risk of being rejected by lucy.

what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help her to feel more confident and ready for boys?

“okie dokie!” she moves in bed, excitedly, not thinking twice.

[eddieschains]

Dream Come True

Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader

credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the older eddie edit <3

Word Count: 2.8k

TW// 18+, age gap (reader is early 20s, Eddie is 50s), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation, face slapping, creampie, let me know if i missed anything!!

It was your parents 25th wedding anniversary. They liked to make a big deal out of it every 5 years, throwing a big party and inviting as many people as they could. You never understood why they couldn’t just go out to dinner alone to celebrate instead of dragging you along to hang out with their old friends. But he made it all worth it.

Eddie Munson. Your dads friend from high school. He was kind of old sure, but he was damn sexy. He had the softest looking long curly brown hair, peppered with just the right amount of grey. The perfect amount of scruff around his face, messy yet neat at the same time. And his arms and chest littered with tattoos.

He played in a metal band that your dad was a part of shortly in college, until he decided he’d rather marry your mom and start a family. Bleh. You had watched all the videos of their shows when he was younger, and while you should’ve been impressed by your dads skills as a musician, you could never take your eyes off of Eddie.

He was still in the band, constantly in LA recording or touring the world. He always made time to visit you and your parents when he was back in Hawkins though. You hadn’t seen him in about 5 years, the last time being your high school graduation, when he could barely keep his eyes off of you. You thought since you were freshly 18 he would finally take you someplace to fuck you raw, but that might’ve just been wishful thinking.

In reality, he didn’t pay much attention to you when he visited. Nothing more than the usual “how have you been” or “how’s school going?”. But, that wasn’t going to stop you from continuing to try and get his attention.

You opted for a short black dress, probably showing a little more cleavage than you usually would, some high heeled boots, and a simple silver necklace. You were in the kitchen of the beach house your parents rented, fixing yourself a drink while you waited for the guests so trickle in.

“Honey, can you greet people at the door and take their coats?” You hear your mom call from the other room. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of your wine and making your way to the door.

You spend the next 30 minutes welcoming all of your parents friends, frustratingly having to answer the same questions over and over and using your best fake laugh to laugh at all of their dad jokes. You were just about ready to leave and scream in the bathroom until you saw the black mustang pull up. Eddie.

You fix you hair and push your boobs up a little more before he makes his way to the door. “Sweetheart.” He bows his head, making his way into the house.

“Eddie.” You do the same. You ask to take his jacket and hang it with the rest. You decide your door duty is over once Eddie arrives, following him into the house. “This is nice. Didn’t know your old man bought a new place.” He says looking around, taking in all the little details.

“Oh it’s not ours, they just rented it for the party. Always need to make a big deal out of their love.” You scoff.

Eddie chuckles, “Marriage is a big deal. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“No thanks. Marriage is just a big money grab. Why can’t I just spend the rest of my life with the person I love without the governments involvement? Plus it’s harder to get divorced than it is to get married.” You respond.

“You’re a smart girl. What are you studying again?” He asks, genuinely interested.

“Psychology. I graduate in a couple months.” You smile proudly.

“Ah you gonna tug at my brain tonight?” He laughs.

This is your chance to make a move, you think to yourself. “I could tug at something else if you’d like.” You whisper, a smirk on your face.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “Uh i’m gonna go say hi to your parents.” He practically runs away. You would’ve been embarrassed by your boldness if you hadn’t noticed the way his cheeks turned red and his legs shook at your words.

You take your place back in the kitchen, avoiding conversation with the large group of people. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Can’t stand being out there any longer without at least one beer.” You chuckle, mumbling in agreement. “When did your parents become so prissy?”

“Oh you mean they haven’t always been like this?” You laugh. “Dad got a promotion a couple years ago so I guess he feels the need to impress them.”

“You should’ve seen him in college, when he was still in the band. He was wild.” Eddie laughs, recalling the memories.

“As wild as you?” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side.

Eddie’s cheeks turn red, “I’m not wild.”

“You expect me to believe that the man who’s been rocking girls panties off for the last 30 years isn’t a wild one?” You step closer to him, hearing how his breathing changes. “I’ve seen what those hands can do.”

“Hey… stop.” You know he only says it because he should, not that he really wants you to.

You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling his ear down to your mouth. “But i’m not wearing any panties.”

Eddie lets a soft moan escape his mouth before running off. “I need to use the restroom.” You’re left in the kitchen, giggling and smirking to yourself, waiting a couple minutes before following him.

You put your head up to the bathroom door, listening to him heavy breathing and muttering curse words under his breath. You open the door, locking it behind you.

“What the fuck?!” He whisper yells. “What are you doing?”

“Oh I thought that was an invitation. You know, tell the girl you’re going to the bathroom, she follows…” You jump up on the sink, spreading your legs a little wider. “And then the guy fucks her brains out on the sink.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, trying his best not to look you in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” You jump off the sink, pulling him towards you. “Don’t think I forgot about the way you were looking at my tits at my graduation party. Or the way your eyes immediately went down to my thighs when I greeted you tonight. You’re a dirty old man, and I want to be your filthy… little… girl.” Your words send shivers down his spine.

“Fuck it.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours. His hands immediately reach for your hips, his fingers digging into them sure to leave marks tomorrow. You wrap your arms around the back of his head, pulling on his hair. He lets out a moan, and you take the opportunity to dip your tongue into his mouth.

He taste just like how you imagined. A mix of tobacco and mint, followed with a slight flavor of the beer he just drank. He removes his mouth from yours, moving down your neck, sucking on that sweet spot just behind your ear. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing and slapping as he continues his assault on your neck.

You twirl your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into you as you feel the heat between your legs growing more and more intense. He backs you up until your back hits the sink, a whimper leaving your mouth. He lifts the bottom of your dress, exposing your naked cunt.

“Fuck. You weren’t lying.” You chuckle as he continues kissing and sucking your skin, moving further down your body. “You did this because you knew I was coming, huh? Or are you just that much of a whore?”

You moan at his words, loving the way he says it. “Oh you like that? Like when I call you a fucking whore?” You mumble an mm-hmm right as he reaches where you needed him the most. “God you have such a pretty pussy, baby. Mind if I have a little taste?”

“Please.” You whimper, and he dives right in. His tongue drags from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, Eddie.” You moan out as his tongue flicks back and forth.

He licks you up and down a few times before focusing on your clit. Attaching his mouth to your aching bud, and sucking it like it was his last meal. You couldn’t speak. It was like he took away your ability to form any kind of words. You’d never felt like this before, never gotten head like this before. He truly was a master, and not just when it came to music.

The filthy sounds of his tongue mixed with your own arousal was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You feel him bring his fingers up to your entrance, playing with it while gathering your wetness. He looks up at you, his mouth still on your cunt, looking for permission to keep going. You nod, and without another word he sinks two fingers into you.

“Oh my- fuck!” You scream out before bringing a hand to your mouth, not wanting to bring attention to what was happening in here. You feel him smile against your pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers were thick enough, you had no idea how you were supposed to fit, what you assumed, was his even thicker cock. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, not relenting his attack on your clit. He moans into your pussy, sending even more vibrations of pleasure through you. He seemed to really enjoy eating your pussy. Maybe just as much as you were.

He starts to move his fingers faster, flicking his tongue across your clit searching for your orgasm. “Shit, Eddie- Eddie i’m gonna- fuck fuck fuck.” You can’t even make out a cognitive sentence with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum on my face.” That was all you needed to hear before your legs were shaking, closing in on his head as yours was thrown back, cursing his name under your breath.

He keeps thrusting his fingers into you, softly to help you ride out your high. Once your breathing starts to regulate again, he pulls out, placing soft kisses on your thighs before moving up to your mouth. “You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips.

You nod, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Placing your hand on the crotch of his jeans, you can feel just how much he enjoyed that. You palm at his rock hard cock through his pants, while he moans above you into the kiss.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, continuing to press into him.

“Not gonna last. I need to be inside of you.” He moans, shuffling his pants off as quickly as possible, and you realize that you didn’t have to assume his size anymore. He was big. The biggest you’ve ever seen. Thick too. If you had to picture the perfect dick, he had it.

“Jesus christ.” You mumble, earning a chuckle from him. He spits into his hand, stroking his cock to prepare himself.

“Can I see your tits?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls the straps of your dress off, nearly tearing them, and pushes the top of your dress down so that it’s sitting on your waist. “Oh my god, we’re you created by the gods or something?”

“I was created by your best friend.” You smirk, reminding him of who exactly he was about to fuck.

He groans, twisting his eyebrows up. “Don’t remind me.” He places his hands on your tits, rubbing and squeezing them in circles before catching one in his mouth.

You place your hand on the back of his head as he licks and sucks on your nipple, his hand playing with the other before switching places. Once he’s has enough, he steps back, grabbing onto his cock and sliding it up and down your folds.

“Ready?” He asks as you nod furiously. He slides just the tip in, testing the waters. You wince as he stretches you open. It hurts only for a moment, but the earlier tongue fucking definitely helped you get used to it quicker.

He pushes more of his length in, an inch at a time until his balls hit the back of your ass. “Shit you’re so fucking tight. Could bust right now.” He moans before pulling out slightly, and pushing back in.

You grab onto his biceps for leverage as he picks up the pace. You pull him closer to you, pushing his hair to one side while your lips find his neck. He groans at the feeling, grabbing the back of your neck as he rapidly begins thrusting in and out of you.

“Oh my god- that’s it, fuck. Feels so good.” You moan in his ear. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, along with each of your moans. He moves his hands down to your hips, using them to fuck you back into him.

“Who would’ve thought my best friends daughter would be such a filthy fucking whore? Sucking my cock into her pussy like this? God you feel so fucking good on my cock like this.” His words continue to egg you on. You can’t say anything other curse words followed by moans of pleasure as he fucks into you.

You start to feel your high approaching again, embarrassingly quick and he takes notice. He pulls your head into his, pressing your forehead against his. “You gonna cum for me again? Gonna drench my fat cock with your cum? Hmm, baby?” You moan in response, but it’s not enough for him. “Use your words, tell me how good i’m making you feel right now.”

You still can’t find the words, and that’s when you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. “Say. It.” He growls, his thrusts speeding up as his thumb takes place on your clit. He rubs perfect circles on your clit while awaiting a response before slapping his palm across your cheek once again. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Say it.”

“Feels so good Eddie. Love the way your cock fills my pussy, gonna make me cum- fuck!” Your body goes limp as your second orgasm crashes over you. Eddie picks you up by your ass, moving your body against the bathroom door.

“That’s right, dirty slut loves the way I feel inside of her.” His body is keeping you up against the door as he continues to fuck into you with a hurried speed, chasing his own high. “How would she feel if I filled her up with my cum?”

All you can muster is a moan, receiving another slap across the face. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes please Eddie, fill me up. Cum in me. I wanna feel you, please please please.” The overstimulation is almost getting to be too much as you feel a tear slide down your face.

Although, it doesn’t last long as he gives you a couple more hard thrusts before you feel his seed coating your walls. “Fuuuck.” He moans out, his head falling into your neck.

He stills for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his own orgasm before lifting his head to kiss you. He wipes your tears away before slowly sliding out of you and placing you back on your feet.

“You’re something else.” He laughs, pulling his pants back up.

“So are you.” You smile, fixing your dress. “Who knew old dudes like you could fuck so good?”

He shoots you a look, making you giggle. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”

You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah let me just go down there and let them know their best friend just fucked the shit out of their daughter.” He laughs before exiting the bathroom and returning downstairs to the party.

You wait a couple minutes to follow him, not wanting to be suspected of anything. You make your way to your dad, hoping she didn’t notice that you and Eddie went missing.

“There you are honey. Oh what happened to your dress?” You look down, noticing the tear in your strap. You look over at Eddie, seeing the biggest smirk on his face as he sips his beer.

“Must’ve torn it this morning putting it on.” You respond, avoiding eye contact.

“Well you should go out a jacket on, make yourself look a little put together please.”

You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”

You walk past Eddie as he grabs you arm, whispering in your ear. “Yes daddy.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Our daddies uses to joke about the two of us | Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Summary: Your fathers' jokes turned to reality

Word count: 0.5k

I have not written for obx in a long time, but I was listening to Taylor Swift - as I very often do - and got this idea when hearing Mary's song

p.s. I'm back to writing for obx!! Sent requests!!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were seven and Rafe was nine when you met him.

Unlike him, your family didn’t live on the island. You had a summer house. Every July, your parents would pack and drive to Kildare to spend summer there. It was nice being close to the beach, but you didn’t have many friends.

Your fathers were golf partners at the country club and decided your families would celebrate 4th of July together at the Cameron estate. The house was massive and they had a pool and a large backyard to run around.

Sarah was introduced to you first, but she liked the color pink and turtles and you preferred lime green and stingrays. Therefore she couldn’t be your friend. Rafe liked lime green, but not stingrays…and you could live with that.

That summer, Rafe became your entire world.

You would go to the Cameron house and play pirates or swim in their pool. Your swimming skills weren’t the best, but Rafe was a great swimmer and promised he would never let you drown. Rose would bring you iced tea and animal crackers, and Rafe always let you have the tiger shaped ones.

At the end of summer, the country club had a season closure event and the loud noises of the fireworks were scaring you. You wanted to go to your mom for comfort, but you couldn’t see her. Instead, Rafe took your hand in his and distracted you by telling you about the frog Sarah caught and brought inside the house and a screaming Rose.

A year later, pink had become your favorite color, but you still spent your summer with Rafe. He didn’t want to play pirates anymore, but it was okay. 

When you turned nine, you dared him to kiss you under the backyard tree and ran when he tried because kissing was yucky. 

The fifth summer, Rafe had grown a few inches and was now towering over you. He kept saying he would beat you up because he was bigger than you, but he never did. He would never physically hurt you.

The following year, two boys started coming over to Rafe’s house. Kelce and Topper. They were always talking about girls — more specifically the brunette lifeguard at the beach. It made you uncomfortable, so you painted your nails with Sarah. 

A few years went by and you turned sixteen. Suddenly you weren't that little girl Rafe used to see. Your body had gone through puberty in the past year and on pool afternoons, Rafe had to force himself to stop looking at the way you filled your bikini and focus on the beach ball Topper was throwing at his head. 

You fathers used to joke about the two of you growing up and falling in love, but the joke was no longer one when you got caught kissing at midsummer. Rafe had another girl for date, but it was you he wanted to hold hands and dance with in that way-too-warm-for-summer tux. 

Goodbyes were extra difficult when August came to an end.

The breeze of the beach at night blew as you rested your head on his shoulder. Your friends were closer to the fire, drinking beer and celebrating the last day of summer. 

‘’I don't want you to leave,’’ Rafe said, watching as the water washed over the sand and swished. 

‘’Me either.’’ Your heart was heavy, knowing when morning come you'll get on the ferry and head home. ‘’I love you to the moon and Saturn, Rafe Cameron.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage  @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc  @pedrosprincess  @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb  @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom  @popeheywardssecretgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly

[dirtyvulture]

Knight Falls - Part 1

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Wolverine!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Your perfect life with Natasha isn't meant to stay that way with the Red Room still looking for her.

Word count: 4296

AN: The long-anticipated sequel to my "Darkest Knight" fic is here! Get ready for the ride!

“Come on, Pryde. I know you can hit harder than that,” you taunt, circling the teenager.

“These gloves are so heavy!” Kitty pants, barely able to lift her fists up to shoulder height. 

“So what if they add on a few pounds?” You jab your own red foam-wrapped fist at her shoulder and Kitty goes spinning away.

“Ow!” she whines dramatically.

“Give me two good shots and you’re done,” you say.

“Fine, fine.” She shakes her head as she bounces on her feet, mirroring your posture in the ring. The rest of the students, some of them sitting on the mats and others standing anxiously, close to crossing over the peeling line of white tape that separates the spectators from the participants. 

“Go Kitty!” one of her friends shouts encouragingly.

“Shut up, Jubilee,” Kitty hisses under her breath that only you can hear.

“I’m not waiting around all day,” you announce, taking a dramatic swing at half-speed. Kitty ducks and shoves at your chest, but she has nowhere near the amount of strength needed to budge your 200-plus-pound frame. “Not a good move,” you comment, bringing your fist around again. 

Kitty squeals and phases; your arm passes through her shoulder and you stumble through her as you lose your balance. 

“Hey! No powers,” you growl, turning to face her again and feeling the pointed tip of her elbow crack into your cheek instead.

“Ow, OW!” Kitty screams, jumping up and down as she holds her elbow with her other hand.

“Kitty, are you okay?” one of the other students calls out.

“Let me see,” you say, getting up and pulling the velcro straps of Kitty’s gloves to take them off her hands. “You’re okay. Don’t start crying on me now.”

“Why is your head so hard?” Kitty practically sobs.

You grumble while you examine her elbow, which looks perfectly normal besides a small red spot at the tip. This new generation of students were so soft sometimes. “Pull it together, kid. You’re fine. Jubilee, go with her to get some ice from the nurse’s office. Class dismissed.”

Jubilee comes forward to grab the dramatic Kitty and drag her out, while the rest of the students quickly funnel after them. You grab a mop to wipe up the mats and are just about halfway through the chore when someone knocks at the door.

“What?”

“Hey, Y/N!” It’s Ororo. 

“Hey, Storm.”

“I heard you sent Kitty to the nurse’s office,” she says, walking into the training room with a chuckle.

“She did that to herself,” you correct. “I told her no powers, but you know the kids around here listen to every other word I say.”

“They love you and you know it,” Ororo responds. 

“Well, they don’t act like it.” 

She chuckles. “I can finish up mopping in here. The professor wants to see you in his office.”

“Oh.” You feel like you’ve been summoned to the principal’s office.

“It doesn’t have to do with Kitty. Something else with Nat,” Ororo adds when she sees the shadow of unease cross your face.

“Right.” You pass her the mop. “Thanks, I guess. Don’t miss that spot in the corner.”

“I won’t.”

You leave the training room, stomping down the long hallways. A million thoughts race through your head. Lately, Natasha had been grossly obsessed with tracking down the Red Room, to a level that it irked you the moment you heard the words. While you had promised that you would help in whatever endeavor she pursued, you were still uncomfortable at the thought of her running headlong into that danger, when you two had barely escaped it. 

You had fallen back into a routine of teaching at the school and keeping some of these unruly students in check, but you were actually quite fond of it. It was nice not to be hunted like an animal or have to prepare for a fight any second. Plus, you got to spend as much time as you wanted with Natasha, and you couldn’t remember the last person you had met who had shown you such a fierce love and devotion. You loathed the idea that it could all be taken away from you in an instant, and wanted to enjoy it for as long as you could without interruption.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/N?”

“Huh?” You stop and look down to find a small child standing in front of you suddenly. “What’s up, kid?” 

The child holds out a stapled stack of papers. “Can you help me with my history homework?” he asks. “Mr. Scott said you’re really old, so you probably remember some of this stuff like it was yesterday–”

You curse Scott out under your breath. “Uh, sure, kid. Just give me five minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” 

The boy goes to sit down on the couch where his feet don’t even touch the floor and you hurry to get to Professor Xavier’s office. You rap hard on the door, pushing it open before he has a second to let you in. Natasha is there already, her laptop sitting on his desk with a map open. 

“Hello. You sent for me?” you ask, a strange feeling of anticipation creeping up the back of your neck. 

“Yes, Natasha did actually,” Professor Xavier says. “How is Kitty doing?”

“Oh, uh…she’s fine,” you say as Natasha glances at you suspiciously. “You know she has a thing for theatrics.”

Professor Xavier chuckles. 

You wait for one of them to explain why they’ve asked you here, annoyed that your time is being wasted when you have other things to do. You take a tiny breath to calm your impatience. It’s imperceptible to Natasha, but Professor Xavier notices right away. Nothing goes unmissed by him. 

“Natasha wanted to tell you–” he starts.

“He found it!” Natasha interrupts, her excitement uncontainable.

“Found what?” you ask.

She spins around her laptop, showing you a Google Maps view of a house set on a plot of land that reminded you of a farm. 

“It’s in Saint Petersburg, Russia,” Natasha rushes to explain, but you’ve been dropped into the middle of a conversation with no context. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t know how, but the professor says if we leave in the next day or two, we can catch–”

“Hold on,” you stop her. “What are you talking about? What’s so special about this house?”

Natasha suddenly hesitates, anxiety radiating from her expression. You already know the answer.

“This is the key to the Red Room,” Professor Xavier says.

You grind your teeth together. You had talked to him privately about this and he had clearly gone against your wishes. 

I thought we had a deal, Chuck, your voice snarls in your head.

Let me explain, Y/N, Professor Xavier’s voice echoes back through his telepathy.

Good, because I’m not going anywhere until you do. You cross your arms over your chest to show him you’re standing your ground.

Natasha looks back and forth at the two of you in bewilderment, obviously engaged in some kind of mental argument she wasn’t privy to.

“Do you mind giving us a minute alone, Natasha?” Professor Xavier says out loud.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Natasha picks up her laptop and walks towards the door. She reaches out and brushes your arm, but you don’t even look at her, all of your focus now on the professor. Even though Natasha closed the door, you can hear her footsteps just behind the wall and worry that she’ll eavesdrop. But it doesn’t really matter if she does; if anything it’ll save you a conversation later.

“I told you not to indulge her with that Red Room shit,” you snap at the professor.

“She came to me,” he responds, with a frustrating amount of calmness.

“And I told you to give her the go-around.” As perfect as Natasha was, and as much as you loved her, this had been a growing point of contention in your relationship. You had voiced your displeasure with her obsession with the Red Room before, but now she had taken it too far. 

“Does she not deserve peace?” 

“She’s happy here with me,” you argue, before it dawns on you. “...Isn’t she?”

Professor Xavier looks away from you. 

“Shit,” you mumble, wondering how you could be so dense to miss the signs. Your anger melts into concern now. “What is she planning? To find this place and blow them up once and for all?”

The professor shrugs. “Close enough.”

“Well, you know why I don’t want her to do that. Right?” you ask him. You refuse to be the “bad guy” in all of this. You mean well for Natasha and want to keep her safe. Why did that make you the asshole here?

“You cannot hold her hostage here,” the professor says. He is so calm it actually makes you even more angry. 

“Do not say that,” you warn. “I’m not holding her hostage. She can leave at any time she wants.”

“No, she can’t. Not while the Red Room is still hunting for her.” 

“You don’t think I can protect her?” The blow to your ego is frighteningly painful. 

“It’s not about whether or not you can protect her. You know she’s not comfortable relying on you twenty-four-seven to be her guardian angel,” Professor Xavier says.

You want to sink through the floor, hating that you aren’t good enough to protect the person you love. It was an ugly insecurity that reminded you of one of the lowest moments in your extended lifespan, and you have to clench your jaw and stare at the floor to hold yourself back from a more visceral reaction.

He senses your sudden sadness and says, “It’s nothing you can help, Y/N. You know she won’t truly be happy until they’re gone.”

“I know,” you whisper, hating the weight of the truth. In some ways, Natasha was just as stubborn as you were. So you couldn’t fault her for it, but it upset you to know that you still hadn’t done enough for her. Even after leaving your home, taking her cross country back to the school you had avoided for over a year, Natasha still wasn’t happy with your sacrifices. 

“It’s not like that,” the professor says, hearing your thoughts. 

“Sure feels that way,” you grumble. 

“You need to talk to her.”

“She won’t listen to me.”

“Then why don’t you try listening to her?” 

Your mouth sets in a hard line. You hate the self-righteous way Professor Xavier talks to you sometimes. “Okay, okay,” you dismiss, although not sure how much you’ll actually end up following his advice. Life would be a lot easier for you if you could read minds the way he could.

“Y/N–”

“We’re done. Someone needs help with their history homework.” You march out of his office before he can protest further. Natasha is still hovering by the door, where she had probably been soaking in every word of the conversation.

“Y/N–” she tries, reaching out for your arm again. You shake her off.

“I know you heard all that,” you snap, internally cringing at how she shrinks away from you. “I’ll deal with you later.”

***********************************************************************

You’re in an awful mood the rest of the day and Natasha actively avoids you. It’s how you expected to react so you’re not very concerned, until you don’t see her (or Ororo) at dinner. When you come out of the shower and Natasha is still not back in your room, you finally decide to take initiative to find her. Predictably, you trace her scent down the hall to Ororo’s room. You hear their whispers quiet as you approach the door, suddenly embarrassed to announce your presence. 

You raise your fist to knock, when the door swings open. Ororo is standing there, glaring at you like a scorned mother. Natasha is sitting on her bed with crossed legs. You can sense her frustration with you, but she hides it well on her face.

“Uh…I was wondering where you were,” you start lamely. 

“Are you ready to talk now?” Natasha asks, surprising you with her boldness. 

“Sure.” You wonder if she’s going to move the conversation somewhere private or have it right in front of Ororo. But something tells you she expected you to come find her here. It made you happy that she viewed Storm as a safe space and someone she could confide in–even if it was about something you did to upset her. “Uh, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”

“Are you going to listen this time? Because I’ve been trying to bring it up to you for weeks, and you always push me away,” Natasha accuses. It takes you back how upfront she is with you. What had Ororo said to give her the confidence to talk to you this way?

“Yes, I’m listening.” You feel strangely vulnerable with hers and Ororo’s judgmental eyes on you. “I…” You take a deep breath, not sure why this is so painful for you to say. “I’m sorry if I came across as not caring or being dismissive about you.”

“You know how important this is to me, don’t you?” Natasha asks, her voice quiet and quivering. 

“Yes, I do,” you say.

“I can’t be mad at you for being upset,” she admits. “You have everything you could ask for here. And I almost do, too. But you’re free, Y/N, through and through. I’m not. Even if I have your protection, or Storm’s, or the professor’s, or everyone else’s. It would never be enough.”

Your heart pangs painfully to hear this confession from her mouth. 

“It’s not a personal attack on you, Y/N,” Ororo says, reaching out and patting your shoulder.

“I know,” you lie. “But what’s so special about that house the professor showed you?”

“He said that’s how we find the Red Room,” Natasha says, making direct eye contact with you and you feel like you’re going to wither away under her gaze.

“Is the Red Room that house?” you ask, wondering why the answer had been so obviously sitting in front of you all this whole time.

“We’re not totally sure, but he said that’s where we–I–need to start if I want to find it.” You don’t miss the way she initially includes you in her statement. Whether or not she wants you with her, and whether or not you truly believe in this mission of hers like she does, you aren’t going to let her tackle this alone.

“And what are you going to do once you find the Red Room?” you ask. 

“Free the rest of the Widows and Wolf Spiders,” Natasha says. “And kill Dreykov.”

You assume this “Dreykov” person is the one in charge of the Red Room. You would have to look into his profile, but you already knew he was not someone to be toyed with. He had an army of extremely well-trained agents, and although you had managed to thwart his attempts at capture multiple times, he seemed to learn with each experience and there was the frightening possibility he could eventually find a way to overpower all of your defenses and kill Natasha and yourself.

“You’re going to kill Dreykov?” you ask. It’s a strange thought that Natasha, this shy and wholesome young woman whom you are completely taken with, has it in her to take a life. She probably has before–you’ve never exactly asked–but you know the innocence that is lost is something that will never come back. If Natasha’s crossed that bridge before, you have no right to stop her again, but if she hasn’t, you want to make sure this isn’t something she’ll regret.

“Yes.” Natasha doesn’t even blink as she stares you down. You admire her tenacity, her stubbornness, her commitment, even if you do think it’s a bit misguided. “I know you don’t want me to go after him,” she starts, “But I’m not going to hide and be scared of him forever.”

“You shouldn’t have to, darling–” you say, but she keeps going.

“You’re all still on his radar and if anything happened to you, or Storm, or the professor, or the kids here because of me…” She trails off and you stay silent.

“I’m not going to ask you to come with me. You’ve given enough sacrifices for me.” Natasha takes a deep breath and you hear her heartbeat quicken. “I have to do this, Y/N,” she says softly. “For me, for the ones he still has in his control, and the ones he’s trying to get to next.”

You know what that was like–vaguely. At some point during your lengthy lifespan, you had been held against your will by a shady government program who experimented on you like a guinea pig. You remember the fear and hatred you had for the staff, and the helplessness that prevented you from acting out for years. Although you eventually ended up escaping yourself and helping a few of the other unfortunate souls escape in the process, sometimes you wished it had been someone else who had been your savior. If Natasha was trying to be that for the people under Dreykov’s control, you wouldn’t stop her. 

“Okay,” you finally say, and you see the shadow of defeat in Natasha’s eyes. She thinks you’re going to let her walk away without a fight. But you won’t. You’ll be there alongside her the whole way. “When do we leave?”

Her face brightens in disbelief now. 

Ororo grins triumphantly.

***********************************************************************

You hitch the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder. Natasha had been both shocked and awed at your ability to pack for an entire week in a single bag. She, on the other hand, was bringing two luggages and a backpack. 

“Hold on, Nat, your bag is open–” you say as she spins around, looking for which pocket you’ve pointed out. 

“Y/N? Miss Nat?” a voice startles you. “Where are you two going? Is it true you’re leaving again?” 

You turn slowly to see Marie glaring at you with her arms crossed over her chest. “Uh…yeah,” you respond. Natasha looks away, hiding her guilty expression. “We have some things we need to take care of. But we’ll be back as soon as we’re done,” you explain.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Marie pouts. 

“I know.” You wish there had been more time to properly warn the kids about your unexpected leave. But, it was usually better this way. “We’ll be back soon, though.”

“Will you?” she presses. You know your concept of time is much different from others’. A whole year could sometimes just feel like a long hour. 

“Yes,” you assure, thinking for a moment. You reach up to your neck and unclip the set of dog tags you have on. You lift Marie’s gloved hand and gently pool the chain in her palm. “Because I’ll be back for this,” you say. “So don’t lose them.”

“I won’t.” Marie looks at Natasha. “Please take care of her for us, Miss Nat.”

“Of course.” Natasha pats your shoulder affectionately while you roll your eyes. “I’ll bring her back before you can miss her.”

***********************************************************************

It’s hard to be away from the safety of the mansion for the first time in a long time. Ororo volunteered to fly the Blackbird (since the professor didn’t trust you to take it alone) and it was nice to have her company for the long flight to Russia. But she was only planning on dropping you two off to do your investigation–it might look too suspicious if a group of X-Men were waiting out for Dreykov and his Widows.

Natasha bounces in her seat excitedly as the Blackbird takes a dive through the clouds. You’re more anxious than excited, not really sure what to expect. The house had looked basic enough, but knowing of its connection to the feared Red Room widened the hole in your stomach. 

“Call me if you need anything,” Ororo says as she lowers the ramp for the two of you to run down. 

“Thanks, Ro!” you call, hurrying to keep up with Natasha, who is already on the ground, fighting to stay upright against the winds from the jet. You jump out, the soft grass sponging under your boots. Judging from the smells–or lack of them–this place has been abandoned for a long time. Still, you’re not racing to make entry, and you have to remind Natasha to slow down as she speeds towards the house. There could be some kind of trap set up and you aren’t blinded with excitement and curiosity like Natasha is.

“Nat! Slow down!” you yell, almost jogging to keep up with her as she reaches the front door.

“It’s unlocked!” she responds, pushing it open and disappearing inside.

“Well don’t go in–” But your words go unheeded. “Nat!” you grumble, your heart skipping a beat as you rush after her. Your footsteps are heavy on the front porch as you burst through the door, looking around wildly. 

The house is furnished as if someone had just stepped out with plans on returning, but never did. Paintings hang crookedly on the walls, a shelf full of used books collecting dust. A single window has been cracked open, the curtains around it filthy as they flutter with the wind. Despite the size of the house, you can sense that it was only ever occupied by a single person at a time, her scent well-faded, but there is a very faint note of familiarity that you swear you’ve smelled before. But before you can investigate further, you hear movement from another room and remember you need to find Natasha.

“Nat, where are–” You freeze when you see her standing alone in the kitchen, staring at a framed photo on the table. “Is this a trap?” you ask, holding your breath and clenching your fists.

“My mother lived here,” Natasha whispers, reaching out to brush her fingers on the frame before taking it in her hand. 

“Huh?” you ask, sensing the wave of emotion in her voice.

“This…is my family.” She picks up the picture frame with reverence, looking at it with shimmering eyes. You approach her slowly, looking over her shoulder at the picture. There’s four people: a large, bearded man, his arm wrapped around a beautiful dark-haired woman, and two children, the oldest probably not even in her teens, with blue streaks in her hair while the smaller one was blonde with chubby cheeks. You can tell immediately that Natasha is the child with blue hair, her eyes reflecting the same playful energy you still see in them today.

“Nat,” you say, reaching out to put your hand on her arm. 

“I think my mother lived here,” she says, looking around the kitchen fondly. “I don’t know about my father…and I don’t know about Yelena.”

“Yelena?”

“My sister.” She taps on the blonde girl in the photo. “We’re not…a real family, I guess you could say. The Red Room put us all together for an undercover assignment, but we all ended up loving each other like a real family. It was the most normal three years of my life.” She pauses, clearly lost in her thoughts. You’re not really sure what to say, having not expected this to turn into an emotional throwback for her. 

“I’m not sure what happened to any of them. The Red Room recalled us from the assignment and I never saw any of them again.” Natasha’s voice hardens, as if she’s trying not to get emotional.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing somewhat what it was like to have your loved ones torn away from you, never to be heard from again.

“But maybe my mom–Melina–retired here,” Natasha says, trying to be optimistic. “She might have still been working for the Red Room. The professor did say that this was some kind of gateway there.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that no one’s been here for months, if not years. Whatever intel the professor had was outdated. The frustration that had been simmering in your gut spikes to a boiling point: the whole purpose of coming here had been for nothing. You would bet a year’s supply of beer and cigarettes that the professor had known this, but because he wanted to indulge Natasha, let you come out here with her and waste your time anyway.

You turn away from Natasha so she can’t see how angry you are. You’ll let her have this moment.

***********************************************************************

Since there isn’t anywhere to go but this house for miles, the two of you decide to set up camp. Natasha finds an old generator outside and jumpstarts it to provide electricity and tasks you with pumping gallons of water from the well. As you drag the last bucket inside, still muttering to yourself about what an awful idea this was, you find Natasha heating up some cans of soup you brought on the stove.

“I didn’t know if the soup would be enough for you, so I pulled some jerky out for you, too,” Natasha says, pointing to the crumpled bag on the table. Immediately, you soften at her thoughtfulness. 

“Thanks, darling. I appreciate it.” You walk up to her from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist and kissing the sensitive spot below her ear. Natasha hums in content, pushing her butt back to rub against your front. “Maybe after dinner?” you propose. At least one benefit to being alone with Natasha in a secluded cabin was that you didn’t have to hide with her. In fact, you could take her right now on the counter if you wanted.

“After dinner,” she agrees, rubbing your forearm.

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

AN: Sorry to cut it there! 😏 Part 1 was running too long so I cut it in half.

Click here for Part 2!

Hope you liked it! Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

[ughgoaway]

all those dreams where you're my wife

Word count; 10.8k (my longest fic ever??)

Content warnings; Swearing, being sick, excessive/unsafe drinking, fighting, many emotions, sex, unsafe sex (time is of the essence here), public sex, in this universe men wear engagement rings okay, jumping perspectives, mediocre writing, defo spelling errors however if I read this again I'll die, and hurt no comfort… (sorry not sorry).

Authors note; it's taken me fucking forever to write this monster of a fic, and it might be shit and all be wasted time, but at least I had a fun time doing it for the first time in a while. Hope you all enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

A cheesy pop song blasts in your ears as you watch your sister unwrap yet another thing with “bride to be” plastered across the front, and somehow she's still just as thrilled by it every time. She's wrapped up in the dressing gown you got her, once again with “bride” sprawled across the back, but you ensured her name was also embroidered on it, reminding her that she does still have an actual name that is unrelated to the man she’s marrying.

Matty sits next to her, faking excitement and feigning smiles with every unwrapping, cooing and beaming, putting up a pretty good act. But knowing him as you do, you can see in his eyes that all he wants is a cigarette and some peace and quiet. Still, it looks like he’s doing a pretty good job fooling the rest of the room judging by the swooning from the other bridesmaids. You hear the hushed whispers shared between your sister's so-called friends, trying not to roll your eyes as each word falls from their lips.

“Oh, isn't he just so sweet?”

“He can't keep his eyes off her!”

“Ugh, he’s so perfect. Does he have a brother? I need to find someone just like him”

The last comment cuts especially deep, and it takes everything in you not to mutter under your breath that she just needs to wait until her older sister gets a boyfriend and then simply steal him out from under her and marry him. But to make it authentic, she would need to make sure she told that sister throughout the entire relationship how awful and manipulative said boyfriend is. And finally, to really ensure accuracy, she would need to only wait 3 weeks after they break up to text him. That's how your sister found Matty, after all. 

Not that you were bitter, or anything.

Despite seeing right through Matty’s devoted fiancee act, you can't deny that every smile that passes his lips is like a bullet to your chest. Each present is a new shot being loaded in the chamber, even tacky gifts like matching “his and hers” mugs and “Mr and Mrs Healy” engraved watches are agony. 

You swear you could hear the click and spin of the bullets being slowly loaded in with every balled-up piece of wrapping paper. The shared coy grins hit you harder than anything, and if you looked down you were sure crimson would be spreading over your dress, distorting the dusty rose satin as the blood pools in your gut from the bullet holes left behind.

A shrill scream forces you to focus again, but every fibre of your being wishes you had left your head swirling in your nightmare. Matty's eyes are filled with something other than distaste for the first time in the evening, but not because they're meeting yours as you had hoped. Instead, he watches with a sly smile as his bride-to-be opens the present from him, a brand new Hermes Birkin bag. It’s a garish shade of bubblegum pink with silver hardware, the stiff leather detailed so carefully was almost taunting you, a perfect representation of your nauseatingly perfect sister. 

The pure bliss on his face, matched with the tears pouring from your sister's eyes becomes too much, and suddenly you feel bile rising in your throat. You manage to slip away unnoticed, mainly due to the ear-piercing squeals coming from your sister's stuck-up housewife friends as they internally damn their husbands whilst acting happy for the future Mrs Healy.

You barely make it to the bathroom before the 6 glasses of champagne you downed unceremoniously come up again, gripping the cold ceramic basin as you vomit, tears streaming down your perfectly made-up face with each gag. 

Slowly you stand again, head rushing as the blood pooling in your head trickled down your body. Too quickly you’re faced with your reflection, staring into the mirrored cabinet as you turn on the tap, letting the water wash away the contents of your stomach. You can't help but trace over your features as you stare, the bags under your eyes are decorated with smudges of black mascara and tears, making the deep purple they already were more obscured and sunken. 

Snot drips from your nose, and you feel out of your own body when you see your hand go up to wipe it, but you swear you didn't move an inch. Your eyelashes are clumped together, sticky makeup gripping them harshly, and your once-freckled skin is caked in thick layers of foundation and concealer, hiding any sense of personality you have. Baby pink blush is delicately placed on the apples of your cheeks, faking laughter and smiles that you couldn't muster if you tried. Lastly, your eyes finally meet themselves, staring into your soul unwavering, it’s cruel and intrusive as you see your every emotion leak from them.

You bear your teeth at yourself, watching your cheeks wrinkle as they tug themselves into a grimace, fighting so hard to pull it harder into a smile, but your skin fights back. One day you'll learn how to hide how you feel, plaster on that grin in a way that doesn't look like a wince, but today is not that day. The wrinkles that decorate your face tell the story you can't, the story of agony and yearning, of missing someone you let go. Pink lipstick is pulled across your face, tugging your dull and lifeless skin as your hand smudges it on purpose, desperate to see colour back in your face. 

The rose colour fills the smile lines on your face that were once deep and full of joy. Now, they're replaced by frown lines and crow's feet, sinking deeper and pulling any youth and joy left out of your face. Every day, more of each leak from your soul, replaced by envy and disgust, by the memories of the life you had, by watching the life you were meant to live being played out in front of you, with your sister in your starring role.

A harsh knock on the door pulls you away from dissecting each and every inch of yourself, a familiar voice ringing through the wood.

“You alright love? I saw you run off, guessed this would be the only place you'd be” Matty’s voice leaches through the barrier between you, and you can't decide whether you need nothing more than to see the pity in his eyes or if that would just be another bullet. Still, you unlock the door with a click, meeting his eyes with your practised smile, praying it's not the poorly guised scowl you did earlier.

His eyes flutter at the sight of you, fighting the cheap look of sympathy he wants to give. You watch his chest expand, his mouth opening and closing as his hand reaches out to yours. The warmth of his skin was so close to radiating on yours before it was snatched away, your sister swooping in and grabbing it, draping herself over his shoulder with a pouted lip and a look of pity covering her face.

“Oh god, what happened to you?” she asks brashly. Tact never was her strong suit, any thoughts she had always either decorated her face or simply fell straight from her lips.

Honesty tickles at your throat, and you feel the words clawing their way out, “I was so disgusted at the idea of you marrying the only man I've ever loved that I was fucking sick. And I'm so jealous and jaded that I can't even face myself one more day. Every time I see you both a part of me dies, and I don't know how much of me there is left to lose.”

But obviously, you push that honesty so deep down it once again becomes resentment, and you muster up a lie, “m’ so sorry. Someone at work has a bug and I think I've caught it. Had to run and make sure I didn't ruin your day.” your voice dripping with faux sorrow.

Matty's eyes narrow at you, his fingers fighting to loosen from the vice-like grip of your sisters, but she doesn't budge, cooing at you before speaking, “Oh dear! I hope you'll be okay by Saturday, you're doing the cake!”

For a second there you thought you were about to get actual sympathy from her, but no, just another selfish desire clouding any semblance of sisterly love left in her body. So you feel less bad when you answer her saying, “No no, I should be fine, but only if I miss your bachelorette tonight. I'm so sorry, but we can’t risk you getting sick too.”

Her full body cringes at the idea of getting sick before her big day, so she begrudgingly agrees to let you have the night off, but not before adding that you “owe her big time.” You have to fight the part of you that wants to say her stealing your boyfriend pretty much absolves you of any favours forever, but instead you nod and smile solemnly.

Sickly strong perfume swarms your senses as she wraps herself around your body, rocking you from side to side as if hushing a baby, “we’ll miss you so much! I'll have a drink in your memory, yeah?” she remarks as if you're dead already, gripping your shoulders so hard that her acrylic nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin. She pulls away a few seconds too quickly for most families, but honestly, any contact with her at this point makes your body practically break out in hives. 

Before you can process it, a familiar aftershave overwhelms you, hands sliding behind your back just had they had done a thousand times before. Matty strokes your skin how he used to, 3 long drags across your back and a squeeze before locking his fingers in the hollow of your back, resting his chin on your head. Seconds drip like honey in his hold, and your eyes flutter shut as memories cascade over you.

But the cold unforgiving air rushes you soon enough, Matty’s hand once again caught in the stronghold of your sisters. Matty's eyes hold yours as he's dragged back into the garden, nodding at you three times to ask if you're really okay, the way he used to when it was just you two, the same caring look pooling in his eyes.

You don't nod back.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The burn is familiar when another glug of tequila slides down your throat, the very last drops falling on your tongue as you shake the bottle dry, desperate to feel anything other than the pain caused by the shitstorm in your head. But whatever tequila you managed to force down your throat wasn't even enough to make you tipsy, let alone enough to start to forget. You're starting to think you won't ever forget, you know that physically he’s gone but he’ll never truly leave.

The cupboards in your kitchen rattle as you throw each and every one open, desperate to find another bottle of something. It could be half empty or full to the top, you just needed something to dull the everpresent ache. You’d never felt like this before, it's all so painfully new. But fuck, you wish it was somehow a familiar kind of new, maybe even the same new as it was when Matty first met you. A warm new rather than one so icy and cold you feel forever frozen. Empty cabinets taunt you, and eventually, you throw yourself on a chair in your kitchen, tapping the wood of the counter as exasperation fills your bones.

You try to stay where you are, alone in your empty house, your leg rattling the chair you're sitting on with every impatient bounce of your knee. But an empty house isn't ever really empty; it's simply sitting and waiting, just like you. Soon, the waiting becomes too much, and your inability to forget drags you from your house with your keys in hand, walking to the closest bar with the cheapest shots.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The bell over the bar door jingles as you skulk in, moving straight to the corner, preparing to hole up there the rest of the night. But a familiar chortling laugh fills your ears whilst simultaneously filling you with dread. Slowly you turn your head, letting your hair obscure your vision in some delusional hope that you don’t know exactly who that laugh came from, and that when you turn your head your eyes aren't going to meet his.

But you turn anyway, pulling your hair away from your face and everything clicks just as you thought. A table covered in bottles and glasses, cheap crowns precariously placed on each head around. Raucous laughter poured from every drunk body sitting around the filled table, except for one. Matty’s ring finger traces around the lip of the half-empty beer he has been nursing all night, his eyes unfocused and staring off into the distance, his friends oblivious to him as they chant “Chug! Chug! Chug!” at George downing yet another cheap beer.

You want to move away from the vision before you, but you stay locked in, looking, staring, studying.

Waiting.

And then, he shifts his view, so subtle anyone would miss it, but you don't. Recognition gradually turns his downcast features, the light slowly filling them back up. You can't bear to see the relighting of whatever fire is still glowing inside him, so you rip your gaze away, spinning off the chair and ripping open the door to the smoking section, welcoming the harsh biting air.

The clatter of the door makes the few drunks outside scatter like cockroaches, avoiding your eyes as they filter back inside. Blood pounded in your ears, once obnoxiously loud music overshadowed by your heart's racing. Shaking hands make you drop the cigarette you had viciously ripped from the pack onto the cobblestones, soon trampled by your pacing feet. 

Your vision begins to blur, the view of your body quickly unfocusing and focusing as if you're looking through a shattered camera lens. The familiar bile rises in your throat again, now replaced with the vague flavour of tequila compared to the cheap champagne of earlier.

Hunched over a plant you start to gag, fighting the urge to vomit with every fibre of your being, unwilling to lose the buzz you need to even think about going back in there. But a familiar hand on your back rips any tipsy feelings from you violently, sobering you up so quickly you're sure you could ace any drunk driving test thrown your way.

Your body rips itself away from his touch as if it set your skin ablaze. You’re sure if you looked at your back there would be a red and blistering burn in the shape of his hand, engagement ring brandished into your weeping skin, taunting you.

Silent staring is all you can manage, sucking in deep breaths of the smoky air, trying not to look like you're a deer in headlights, and failing miserably. Matty hides his shaking hands, forcing them into the pockets of his jeans, fiddling with the loose blunt in there and fighting the desire to pull it out and light it.

Someone has to talk eventually, but it physically can't be you, it feels like something is sitting on your chest forcing the air out of your prickly lungs. If you opened your mouth, it would be nothing but a discontented squeak, a measly attempt at trying to stop this before it happens, to undo this night and never see Matty again. 

Is that what you really want? To never see him again? It hurts like hell whenever he's near, but you've come to find it a comforting sort of agony. The kind that makes you feel validated in your hurt, that you're not just making it up for attention. Seeing Matty feels like pressing on a bruise just to remind you the pain was always real. You can hear your therapist screaming at you in your head right now that this is not a “healthy attachment” but maybe it doesn't need to be healthy, maybe-

“Nothing to say, then?” Matty stops your internal monologue from spiralling any further, breaking the ice and plunging you both into the cold water below you. Fight or flight fills your body when you start to feel the metaphorical freezing water fill your lungs as you suck in desperate breaths.

But you choose to fight, Matty is blocking the doors, and scrambling over the bushes next to you whilst tempting, doesn't feel practical considering the state you’re in.

“Why are you here?” is the first sentence that rips itself from your chest. It's a stupid one, you know it is. You see the husband-to-be badge on his chest, you saw the gaggle of drunk mates that surrounded him at the table, all with the same half-askew crown that is sitting on his sea of curls. 

He steps closer, sucking in a breath to speak, you can’t help but flinch helplessly, hot tears already brewing at your lash line. Fuck. You didn't want to be emotional, you wanted to be calculated, fierce, cutting. You wanted him to walk away with a hole in his chest no doctor or therapist could ever heal. They say you can't stare at your wounds forever, but you need him to be eternally marked by the memory of what was.

“Should be asking you that really. The smell of tequila coming off you doesn't scream “I'm deathly ill” so,” Matty shrugs, dying to inch closer but fighting the urge just enough so he doesn't have to see you flinch at the sight of him ever again.

You sigh heavily, looking down at your feet and tugging at your shirt, every feeling you'd had in the past 6 months rearing its ugly head all at once. He’s here. He's here and he feels real, his eye bags look more sunken than they had earlier, the harsh moonlight casting shadows on his faded skin. She isn't here attached to his hip or draping herself over him like an overattached mother at her son's wedding. Suddenly any chance of a simple goodbye flashes away, leaving only behind the horrible memories and questions of what was not even 6 months before.

“Do you ever think-” you stop yourself, word vomit scratching at your throat violently, but you swallow it down. Matty can't stop himself anymore, taking a single step closer, but you don't flinch, instead gazing up at him and letting whatever fills your chest pour from you.

“Do you ever think that I know you better than anyone will ever know you?” you say quietly, almost hoping he doesn't hear, but he does. You can tell from the way he shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a lighter to fiddle with, the same thing he always did when anxiety started burning his lungs.

“We can't have this conversation.” Matty sighs out, hovering his thumb over the flame and letting the black soot build up on his skin, the slight warmth of it reminding him what's real. Well, that reminds him, and the way the light of the fire gleams off his engagement ring.

“You really think we can just move on? Go to the wedding and play happy families for eternity? I lost my soulmate that day Matty. My best fucking friend, and the only person I wanted to tell that I lost you, was you. And every time I see you it all comes flooding back.” You whine helplessly. The blood is finally flowing, you had ripped open the wound you'd been carefully picking at for the past six months. Any healing was gone, the only way out was stitching it back up yourself or letting it pour.

“I'm engaged. You can't be my soulmate, it has to be her. Or at least we have to do an incredible fucking job of pretending she is.” defeated breaths come with everything he utters, accepting whatever fate he resigned himself to the second she messaged, the second he realised there was no going back. 

“Please. You're just using her as fodder for your shitty music.” you huff like a teenager talking under their breath, kicking a loose pebble 

Matty’s eyes harden, clenching his jaw before he speaks “Don’t do this. Start jabbing at me like it's going to solve anything. We aren't 18 anymore, no arguments are going to be solved by me strumming my guitar like a twat or your passive-aggressive comments that drag on.” 

“Oh please, like you getting engaged wasn’t a “jab” to me.” You gesture wildly before crossing your arms and sighing heavily. Matty opens his jaw and starts pointing at you harshly, “No it-” but you speak over him without a second thought. 

“You know, Sometimes I feel sorry for you.” you hiss, “I know how awful losing us was. But mostly, I’m just fucking angry. I went through exactly what you did, and I could never hurt you the way you did me.” shaking hands force you to shove them in your pockets, the anger making the very fibre of your being feel like an uncontrollable fire getting another log thrown on the blaze.

“I never did it to hurt you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, I can't.” Matty says softly as if he's trying to placate you. It doesn't work. He lost every right to be a source of comfort for you the second he replied to that message.

“You wanna know what I hate the most? The part that makes me so angry I can't think straight? I hate that everyone knows but no one ever says anything. They act like it never happened. Like we never happened. Does what we have suddenly vanish from existence just because you're playing dolls with my sister?”

“Had,” Matty says quietly.

“What” you huff, tensing your muscles and fighting the desperate breaths that claw at your lungs, scratching at your throat to try and force them down.

“What we HAD. not what we have. You made sure of that. You always seem to conveniently forget that YOU ended this, it's so easy to make me the villain but don't pretend you don't remember that night in your apartment. I got on my fucking knees and begged for you to stay. You don't get to stab me and act like you're the one bleeding. You did this.”

“What, so you'd think we'd still be together if I didn't end this? You're fucking delusional. Surely if you're so in love with her, it would've happened eventually.” you spit “her” like its ash on your tongue, burning your mouth to simply say it. Silence hangs for a few seconds too long, your eyes magnetised to each other, helplessly intertwined.

“I buy her your favourite perfume you know” Matty swaps topics so quickly it hurts your head, every ounce of air is huffed from your lungs as you ready yourself to interject, but he keeps talking, “She doesn't wear it all the time, practically never. But every once in a while when I close my eyes and night and pull her close, I recognise that smell and i can pretend it's you. And when the moonlight hits her engagement ring, I don't feel sick to my stomach.”

Fuck. the emotional whiplash suddenly feels all too real, every ounce of air is ripped from your chest and replaced with a crushing burst of realisation. 

You caused this. Every crying session, every drunken night cursing his name, each hour spent stalking her social media. Every time he wished it was you in his arms at night, or even the times he pretended it was. It was all your fault. He wouldn't have let go, you left his life with claw marks left in your skin. 

Before Matty can even process what he said, you sprint away slamming the doors behind you as the world spins in your vision. Everything wrong in your life is the cause of your own hand. Your feet feel unsteady, the wood below you shaking as if an earthquake is rocking only where you stand, following each step, rocking you so hard your nausea feels bone-deep.

The bones in your whole body feel wrong under your skin, tugging and poking, attacking you from the inside out as you slam the bathroom door behind you, shaking hands, fighting to lock the door but failing. Eventually, you drop your hands, giving up on the metal click of the lock so you can hover over the sink, staring at your wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. It’s the image of someone whose very being has changed beneath them, someone you don't know if you'll ever recognise as yourself ever again.

Desperate, warm breaths fill your empty lungs. You’re drunk on oxygen, but still, you can’t catch your breath. Everything around you falls in and out of focus, the image of the stranger in the mirror distorts with each hungry inhale. Her face swirls and distorts, you feel like you’re trapped in a Picasso painting. Warped faces stare back at you, with some humanity trapped behind layers of paint and years of waiting.

Just as the focus pulls your eyes back, the door swings open, and you're met with Matty huffing as he stares at you hopelessly, wringing his hands nervously before slowly shutting the door, easily locking it with one hand.

He cautiously steps closer and closer, as if he’s trapped in a cage facing a lion, testing the waters and hoping he gets out of this alive. You stand motionless, fear and realisations wracking every nerve in your body, zapping you with taps of electricity, forcing your limbs to freeze in place and allow the pain to skittle through you.

Metres become inches that become centimetres; goosebumps begin rising on your skin, your heartbeat rushing and jumping to the same rhythm as how Matty used to laugh. Before your eyes can meet he envelopes you in a hug, his shaking arms wrapping around you. His familiar hands hurt your heart, sliding down your spine the same way they had one thousand times before.

“I wish I hated you,” you whisper, pressing your face into Matty’s neck and allowing your senses to be overwhelmed by him. The simple scent of patchouli, the familiar scratch of his shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his skin radiating onto yours. If you opened your eyes, you know what you’d see, what freckles dance across his skin where your gaze would meet it; you know every mark on his body forevermore.

Matty’s vocal cords feel frozen in place; all he can do is nod and pull you closer, letting tears flow down your cheek and drip onto his shoulder. Eventually, he tries to pull away, but your arms tighten. “I can't look at you,” forces itself from your lungs, the idea of facing the man you’ve spent the past five years loving so deeply it hurts your chest. They told you that kind of love for him would pass, that it always does.

It didn't pass. 

Part of you regrets ever loving him, of ever letting him so deep into your soul that it has become hopelessly intertwined with his. Everyone who knows you knows him. And vice versa. The time passes, no matter if you’re together or apart, but you're never truly apart. There's no one without the other.

Your fingers loosen of their own accord, your mind unaware you're releasing the grip around the only body that feels as if it fits right with yours. Your gaze lingers on the room behind him, refusing to see whatever swims in his eyes. It feels exactly like it was, but somehow, it still feels so different, if you were standing in the same room with your arms around each other eight months ago, meeting his eyes would have been the greatest comfort you could imagine.

But everything changed, as it always does, and now the mere thought of looking into them makes the butterflies in your ribs that used to delicately flutter instead hammer against them as if they're trying to shatter you. Furiously trying to warm the heart you're now not even sure still resides there.

You hold his gaze. Just for one second, you tell yourself, but one quickly becomes two, which then becomes ten, even 15. They flitter away for a millisecond sometimes, but only to watch his lips that you could swear were inching closer and closer to you each time your gaze flicks down.

You only realise they had indeed been getting closer when they pressed against yours for the first time in months, slotting together as they had millions of times before, a heat you knew all too well. The voices in your head are berating you, screaming at you to take a step back, to shove him away with every ounce of your strength, but they all muffle at the very feeling of his body against yours, screaming as if they're trapped underwater and you're standing on the surface oblivious.

There’s no time for buildup, both of you terrified the other would soon realise what you're doing, as if there was some trance tricking you, forcing you to stand dead still against your will. A trepidatious press of lips soon becomes ravenous, hushed breaths and stolen moments finally rearing their head after being pushed down one too many times before.

Sharp fingernails dig into his scalp as you tug him closer, his moans reverberating against your lips as he walks you backwards, letting your back hit the sink behind you, pressing his whole body into you as far as he can, your limbs slotting together in familiarity. Wordlessly you jump on the hardwood, opening your legs and allowing him to come even closer. You have the realisation then that you’d let him inside your skin at this moment if it meant he could somehow just be closer.

Warm hands slip from your cheeks to the hem of your skirt, wrenching it up so quickly that you wouldn't be shocked if you heard the fabric tear in his vice-like grip. But you welcome him warmly, locking your heeled feet behind his back, somehow tugging him even more into your space.

Every tug of his hair forced his hips forward, groaning as the tent in his trousers brushes your panties, an involuntary move you remembered from evenings just like this one. Sneaking away from family dinners to find an empty store cupboard or stall to just feel each other, to try and stifle the ever-burning fires inside you both, it only got stoked with every shared glance and slide of your heel up his calf under the table.

Matty’s belt clinks as he wrenches it open, the soft leather tugging at his palms as he rips it off. The only reason he’d ever remove his hands would be fighting to get endlessly closer to you, every other second they’re blindly memorising every curve and dip of your skin. You follow suit, tugging down your panties as far as you could with your legs still locked in the hollow of his spine, tempted to just rip them so you don't have to disentangle yourself from him. Matty doesn't let you contemplate it for another second, ruthlessly tearing at the lace until that familiar ripping sound stops and you feel the fabric drop to the floor below.

He yanks down his boxers as best he can with his lips attached to yours, “Fuck, I need to be inside you, I need it” Matty huffs pulling away as if it pains him not to be connected to you, a magnetic force dragging you together. Messy top-lip kisses make you dizzy, his tongue pressing into your mouth and hypnotising you, but he has to tug himself away one more time, his eyes painful before they start roaming your skin as if he's studying fine art. 

They dance across your figure, focusing on the small parts he never thought he’d see again. The familiar freckle on your inner thigh, the very place he kissed each time he ventured down between them, his self-professed favourite place in the world. Or the scar on your knee from childhood, he remembers you covering your reddening cheeks, telling him the story of how you got it. Falling whilst chasing a boy, desperate to kiss him despite his obvious non-interest, and all you gained from the experience was lifelong embarrassment and that very scar. 

Suddenly, he needs to see everything; every memory of your body connected with his comes rushing back, and desperation fills his every vein. He wordlessly tugs up your shirt; his focus trained on the very spot he knew it would be, the rib tattoo he always warned you not to get exactly where you did. He was there when you got it, your carefully manicured nails digging into the flesh of his hand as you winced, leaving marks he wished had scarred so he didn't have to rely on his fleeting memories of you, instead, you could permanently initial his skin with those familiar crescent shapes.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on his words rather than the vision in front of him,  “Shit, sorry,” he pants, “you deserve something more romantic, but all I can think is how badly I've missed you.” soft hands slide up your thighs, tracing a comfortable path over and over, thumbing those familiar marks.

“Y’know, I could have you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. You wouldn't be close enough,” he grunts, wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s then he finally sinks in, your body welcoming him home, the familiar feeling giving you a comfort you thought you’d lost forever.

Your visions of a reunion never looked like this. They were soft and sweet, wrapped in white cotton sheets with hot sun flickering over your skin as it pierced through the trees. But this was fervent and desperate, hunger gripping your soul and tugging in his, no time for sweet words of adoration or full breaths. You simply gasp when you can, sharing his exhales in the few seconds Matty can bring himself to stop kissing you, only to lose your breath again with every thrust.

Whines and whimpers seem to travel through you into him, every cry you make is soon mirrored by an aching grunt from him, pressing himself as deep inside you as he can and sitting there, feeling your body contract and shake around him. His touch somehow coaxed you closer each time, his fingertips skittering down each bone of your back, swirling and pressing as he reminded himself of the feeling of you, the gentle warmth and softness of your very being. 

Every unforgiving buck of his hips made your skin prickle, your whole body arching into his touch helplessly, magnetised to him. But his very presence was enough to lure you closer to that teetering edge. The rush of heat made your head swell, foggy with the heady and intoxicating feeling of the togetherness you’d been yearning for. Your heart thrummed under your skin, matching the pulses Matty felt around him, nerves igniting under your skin as you inch closer and closer.

Before you can feel that all-consuming rush Matty drags himself out of you, grunting as he watches himself disconnect, paining him so deeply he swears it's like a stab wound. But no complaints can slip from your lips before he's scooping you off the side and spinning you around, holding your body against his, your back pressed on his heaving chest, feeling each hungry breath he sucked in. He keeps you there for a few seconds, one hand on your hip the other splayed over your ribs. Your head falls to his shoulder, your closed eyes letting you fall into him.

Slowly his hand slides from your hip up to your shoulders, pressing you down until you're bent over in front of him, your overheated body pushed into his pulsing bulge, forcing a huff of air from his already empty lungs. Sluggishly, your eyes open, met with a reflection themselves, your blissed-out face, and your flushed glazed skin. They inch up, watching as you bite your ruby-woo-flushed lip when you finally see Matty staring back at you as a predator looks at its prey, hungry for something that's almost insatiable.

Almost.

Without warning he slowly starts inching himself inside you, so leisurely that if you didn't see the look on his face you would think he doesn't really care how quickly he can sink back into you. Your eyes flutter shut on their own as Matty brushes your walls, tugging at spots that would make anyone twitch and whimper. Harsh fingertips dig into your jaw, forcing your gaze back on him, his jaw ticking the second you refocus, a cheeky smirk tugging at his cheek.

That smile only growing when he watches your jaw shake, your eyes rolling so far back in your skull only the whites are visible, your hand clutching helplessly at nothingness as pleasure wracks through you. Eventually, his body melts into yours, filling you up so perfectly it feels as if his body was only made to fit with yours. Goosebumps rise in anticipation, dancing over your skin as Matty stays motionless, the seconds dripping like honey, dragging on so long it made your head fuzzy.

He groans heavily as he pulls out as slowly as he went in, teasing you mercilessly just so he can keep watching your jaw clench and your body tremble in his grip. But patience isn't his strong suit either, and when it's just the tip of him inside you, he can't help but drive himself into you, splitting you open with each vicious roll of his hips. Bending over to whisper in your ear, “Say thank you sweetheart” with a flash of that familiar cheeky grin.

“Thank y-” your first try ruined as a cry rips itself from your chest, Matty waiting until you open your mouth each time to bury himself to the hilt inside you, watching you stutter and fight the grunts leaving you. Eventually, you can force out a whisper, “Thank you fuck-” making Matty kiss the side of your head, groaning as he mercilessly fucks into you.

He planted kisses along your jawline, the sound of skin slapping skin almost overpowering the constant mumers and whines falling from your bitten lips. Pink flush danced across your skin, decorating your neck and chest and obscuring any marks on your body, the mirror in front of you was too steamed up from your needy breaths for you to see anything clearly, but your eyes were so far back in your head that you wouldn't be able to see your reflection anyway. “Fuck” you manage to whisper under your breath, using every ounce of energy in your body to form a word rather than incoherent pleads and begs.

Matty’s pace was erratic, not giving you a chance to breathe before jackhammering his hips and sinking back into you. You can't help but shudder each time he fills you up, your body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure skitters up your spine, pooling at the base as he pulls out, only to electrocute you as it shoots up with every merciless thrust. Death could come and get you here and now and you wouldn't mind. This is life and death, existence, non-existence, bliss, lust, love; it was everything wrapped up into a fuck in a bar bathroom. 

Words were stuck in your throat, helplessly tugging at you but coming out as broken cries and whines, your hands gripping the cold porcelain basin as you felt the waves of bliss start growing. Matty always told you to tell him when you were cumming, you remember evenings spent with him trying to get you to utter that phrase as many times as he could in one night, with every forgetful moment punished with a deliciously painful slap to your thigh.

“Close” you force out with a grunt, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’re sure you taste that familiar iron of your blood overwhelming your tongue. Your body writhes trying to hold it in, desperate to let the shockwaves of pleasure crash over your body. Hooded eyes eagerly force themselves open, your body needing to see that familiar nod, those three shakes of his head that meant you could let everything building up in you go.

Finally, after the clock seems to freeze and time ceases to exist, he nods, biting his lip and focusing on you, the very idea of looking away killing him.

You don’t try and hold back any noises, moans ripping out of your chest helplessly, your whole body writhing as the electricity you'd been forcing down finally starts shocking you, from the tip of your toes up to your scalp, unmissable and unmistakable. You savour each second of bliss, letting your hips stutter and your walls contract around him, pulsing and trying desperately to feel him fill you up.

“Fuck- I love you. Holy shit-” you mutter under your breath thoughtlessly, it falling from your lips as easy as it was to breathe. 

Shit. Every part of you freezes at once, itching to know if he just heard what you said.

If he did, he's playing it off very well, not even faltering in his thrusts, keeping his laser focus on finally finishing with the woman he's spent months fantasising over. Visions of you swirl around his head almost constantly, even in moments he knows very well they shouldn't be, but it's impossible not to. When you're so effortlessly intertwined with his very being, how can he not spend each day affronted with the memories?

But none of that is in his head at this moment, he doesn't have to imagine you or think up what you'd be doing in this moment, you're here. Your body is in his grip and he's inside you, the very connection he had been yearning for. 

You watch in the mirror as he finally empties himself inside you, one last thrust pressing every drop of cum into you, wanting the memories of this night to be stuck in his head forever. Huffs and groans fill the space around you, and it's then you know he definitely hadn't heard you, he's as oblivious as he always has been. The only emotion on his face is pure bliss as he pulls out, watching his cum drip from inside you, decorating that familiar freckle on the inside of your thigh.

Wordlessly he grabs a paper towel from beside him, wiping you delicately all whilst studying his cum painting your skin. You poorly stifle a laugh, and Matty finds himself smiling too, raising his eyebrows at you in the mirror as if to incredulously ask “What?”

You shrug, simply stating, “You're such a boy” with an eye roll. Matty pinches your hip teasingly, silently tugging your skirt from around your waist, trying hopelessly to make it look like he didn't just fuck you within an inch of your life in this random bar bathroom. 

He tries to be sly as he bends down and pockets your destroyed panties, but Matty hasn't ever been known for his subtlety, and judging by the schoolboy grin on his face, he has them buried in his trouser pocket just as he wanted.

“C'mon, I'll call an Uber. Best we wait outside, I think someone banged on the door about 10 minutes ago, must want to fucking kill us,” he grips your hand, his effortlessly wrapping around yours as it had 100 times before, no baggage dragging you down.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The Uber ride was quick, your apartment was realistically a walk away from this bar, but you were all too happy to spend the 8-minute ride with your tongue down Matty’s throat. He pulled away reluctantly only once, finally answering the slew of texts coming from his groomsmen back at the bar. You know you shouldn't, but every part of you needs to read the text over his shoulder. 

You wish you hadn't.

Ross: where have you run off to? George is begging to down your beer, not sure how much longer I can fend him off.

Matty: sorry had to rush home, missus just missed me too much, see you on the big day x

Ross: Really? Can’t be apart for even one night? You two are sickening, see you then mate x

It made that familiar pit in your stomach start growing again, filling it with the knowledge that you’d just fucked your sister's fiance at his bachelor's party. And the worst part was, you didn't feel even slightly bad about it. In fact, you only feel bad about the fact you don't really feel bad, at all. 

Just as you start to pick at the skin around your nails, Matty grabs your attention, his warm hand cupping your jaw and forcing your eyes to meet his. He flashes you a gentle smile before kissing you, starting slow but ending up with your hands tugging at his hair and his hand gripping any part of you he could hold.

You couldn't disconnect, keeping up your act all through your lobby, and in the elevator up to your place, ignoring the camera in the corner and the creepy man who was definitely currently watching the footage. But it was helpless, your bodies stuck together in perpetuity. So it continued throughout your apartment, clothes slowly appearing in rooms along the way, marked with the memories of tonight represented by a rogue shoe or shirt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Your vision unfocuses and refocuses as you blink heavily, trying to make sense of the darkness around you, moonlight pouring through your window, your curtains still pulled to the side. A smile creeps onto your cheeks when you remember why you're there, and why your bare skin is pressed against your blanket, your hand smoothly sliding to the other side of the bed, waiting to hit Matty's Body.

But they don't stop, instead, the only feeling under your fingertips is lukewarm cotton and wrinkles in the shape of his body. You have to hold in a sigh when you realise what this means, but you soon hear rustling, followed by a muted “fuck” when Matty stubs his toe on the foot of your bed whilst shrugging his shirt on. You close your eyes for a few seconds, deciding if this was really worth it, or if it would be wiser to just roll over and pretend you never noticed him leaving.

Is it better to have never spoken up and allowed him to slip through your fingers one more time, or should you speak up and risk the very thing you've spent the last months begging whatever god there might be to bring back?

Your voice breaks as you speak, cracking your eyes open just a few centimetres, staring at Matty’s shadowed figure in the doorway, “Please just stand there for a bit. Just- Please.” you see him falter for a second, his fingers stroking the handle of the door, slowly pressing it down. 

More words pour from you before you can stop them, “Life feels long but it's not, it's so bitterly short. Just spend a few more seconds with me, even if it's so fucking uncomfortable and awkward, stay. I need it, you.” his fingers freeze at your hushed words, and slowly they slide off the shiny metal and his head turns. His features are shrouded in the 4 am darkness, but you know the look in his eyes. You always do.

He only stays for another minute, but those 60 seconds heal cracks in your soul that were so deep they felt irreparable. But soon enough, the doorway sits blankly and the figure once cloaked in darkness is replaced with the cherry wood door you know all too well. The pillows and sheets welcome you as they always had before, but this time the ghost of someone else lays next to you, the sheets still scrunched from the echos of his body.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The light drips through the curtains, fingers of sun piercing through your room. Sleep was fruitless anyway, visions of the night before clouding your already muddled mind. If you slow your breathing and allow darkness to overtake you, you can still feel the warmth of Matty's body on yours. His hands gripping your headboard, sliding across your skin, marking you the way he always loved to. In the back of your mind, the mistakes made fade away with every breath you shared, each desperate kiss fixing things you thought were beyond repair. 

Maybe this time would feel different, maybe this time it will just be different. Maybe there could be a this time.

The shrill ringing of your alarm reminds you of what today really is, and suddenly any chance of a this time starts to fade away. But you push that to the back of your mind, letting the familiar feeling of denial take over your brain. 

It's just your sister's wedding, who she's getting married to is irrelevant. You just need to get ready, get to the venue and go. You can decide everything there, with him. It's finally time to stop letting things go.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

At the venue, people flutter all around you, talking on headsets furiously trying to figure out when the next flower delivery is set to arrive. You can't fathom where more flowers could fit, the whole place is already a sea of jasmine, roses, and lilacs. 

Anger skitters up your spine when you see the delicately placed lilacs scattered around, the flower you’d held close as your favourite since childhood was now an accessory in the wedding of your nightmares. She knew it was your favourite, everyone did. The mural etched onto your ribs was reminder enough, your first and last tattoo. 

Still, you sighed heavily, shaking the building tears on your lashline away and painting on a non-agonsing smile. You know your priority should be going to the bridal suite and gushing over your sister as she gets her hair and makeup done, but as you walk down the long winding corridor a different room is calling your name. 

Matty had his own private room, you remember it was something he refused to compromise on in the planning stages of the wedding, making finding a venue almost impossible. You distinctly recall accidentally eavesdropping on an argument between the two of them early on in the planning.

Baby please, just stay with all your groomsmen like everyone does. You don't need your own room! I don't even get one and I'm the bride!” your sister winged like a child, tugging at Matty’s sleeve and pouting.

He sighed heavily before speaking, fighting the eye roll pulling at his eyes, “M’sorry love, but I can’t. You chose every other bit of this wedding, just let me have this one thing”

“Ugh. drama queen” she muttered under her breath, violently striking off another venue on her list, almost ripping the thin paper with her ballpoint pen. 

Well, maybe not so accidentally eavesdropping. You took any chance to hear your sister to prove she was actually human, and not some perfect robot child here simply to make your parents resent you. 

Your knuckles crack as you nervously pull your hand into a fist, all the breath in your body is wrenched out of you as you knock, nervousness tugging at every nerve. What would his face be when he answered? Would he even answer? If he knew it was you, would that change his decision? A million questions cascade through your head, repeatedly punching you in the gut, a vicious reminder this wouldn't be as simple as you'd deluded yourself into believing it would be.

But he does answer it, and it’s like you can breathe again when you see him, the dejected look on his face swaps for light filling his eyes when he realises it’s you on the other side of the hardwood, tugging you in wordlessly, and pressing the door closed with your body.

“Hi,” he smiles, bending down to peck your lips, the warmth sending you rushing back to last night.

“Hi,” you reply helplessly, your head too hazy to think of an original response, your brain would have parroted any words that came out of Matty’s mouth no matter what. 

Neither of you can wipe the cheesy smiles covering your face, your features too lit up by the presence of one another. Matty’s hands slide a familiar path as he gazes down at you, sliding the silk of your dress over your skin, pausing them in all the places with the marks he remembered making the night before.

“How are you?” you say dumbly, staring up at Matty as if he hung the stars and the moon, as if he created every emotion you've ever felt, as if he made you as he knew you now.

“Better know you’re here,” he teases, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss, letting it drag on for too many seconds, your lungs desperate for another breath, but you can't drag yourself away from him, not even if you tried.

But biology gets in the way as it always does, forcing you just far enough apart for oxygen to fill your systems once again. But you stay gazing, admiring, memorising. Studying the way that singular curl drops on his forehead, or the way the bags that looked so heavy under his eyes yesterday have a certain new lightness today, the freckles that decorate them glowing through instead of being obscured by the darkness that was. 

“Who would I be without you?” you say softly, watching as your hand cups his cheek, sliding that curl behind his ear and looking at it as it defiantly pops back out, springing as it falls back into place. 

“Whoever you were meant to be” Matty answers, his smile faltering only slightly, quick enough that anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but you do. Before you can call him out on it, a harsh bang on the door makes you jump, Matty’s hand quickly sliding over your mouth to muffle the scream that came with it.

His finger goes to his lips in a shushing motion as he slides you behind the door before opening it, keeping one hand in yours behind the hardwood as he speaks to whoever is behind it. 

You can’t hear whoever is speaking, but you can hear Matty’s replies, “Yup sounds good Adam.” Matty huffs, “What? No, I don't need to see it, Mate. Really I-” A heavy sigh leaves his lungs before agreeing.

“Ugh okay, let’s go then” he concedes dropping your hand quickly and closing the door behind him, trapping you in the suite of your nightmares, surrounded by reminders of why you were here, why you were both here. 

You wait for the footsteps outside to stop before slithering out of his suite, your eyes shifting around making sure no one caught you. Luckily you got away unharmed. Or, mostly unharmed, your ego the only thing that took a bruise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

You keep getting so close to grabbing Matty to talk all day, but every time you start someone drags one of you away. It starts with Adam grabbing him to confirm the seating, then another bridesmaid grabs you to calm down your sister, a task you'd rather die than do. A comedy of errors continued all day, the conversation broken up into one-word meetings before one of you got guided away for something totally unimportant.

But despite the conversation being broken up 100 times over, you both know what you're saying. Are we doing this? Is this wedding really going to stop before it's even started? You still don't have an answer, desperation to just know is clawing at your chest.

Finally, you catch him, miraculously alone in the entryway to the ceremony room, the flower-petaled aisle just starting at your feet. There’s no time for pondering and deep consideration, before you know it someone else would pop out of the woodwork and drag one of you away, so you go for it, no more room for subtlety left inside you.

“Well? Do you wanna leave? Go at the same time?” you almost whisper, playing with Matty’s fingers as his hand rests in yours, anxiety boiling over in your head. Your palms slowly grow clammy as your chest tightens, awaiting the response that would make or break this whole messed up situation. That would make or break you. Still, his eyes don't meet yours, laser-focused on your connected hands, his thumb brushing over your skin.

All it would take is a nod, half a nod, a movement so small it would be impervievable to almost every other person on this earth. This is the first time since you first met Matty’s eyes across a crowded room that you truly have no idea what he's thinking. His face is always decorated with his every emotion, clear as day. At least it always has been to you, feelings painted across his cheeks, swirling in his eyes, exposing themselves by how he licks his lips, or exactly how his eyelashes brush his cheek. Practically screaming at you.

But not now, something different is shrouding his features, some unreadable unknowable version of a man you thought you knew every facet of. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, his tongue darts out and wets his lips, readying himself to give you the answer that decides if you’re just running, or if you’re running with him. 

“I-”

“Matty!” a feminine voice behind him hisses, carefully manicured pink nails wrapping around his suited arm and gripping forcefully, tugging his hand from your gentle hold. It's then Denise slides into your vision, offering you a soft smile before returning to scowl at her son.

“I've been looking all over for you! We’re running late, let's get you where you need to go love, come on.” she gently tugs his arm, Matty following wordlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor below him as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. “See you in there darling!!” Denise says cheerfully turning to you, winking with the biggest grin spreading across her features.

The oxygen in your lungs gets completely ripped out, and it suddenly feels like every limb in your body could collapse under you, he didn't answer. If it's not a yes, it's a pretty fucking clear resounding no. That means the past 12 hours were nothing but a slip backwards, something he regrets. You're something he regrets.

But before he reaches the top of the aisle, Matty calls your name lightly, wrenching his head as far back as he can, your eyes meeting his gaze immediately. It's then he nods, 3 times. Your sign. Whatever this is, is happening. 

All of a sudden the anxiety comes rearing its ugly head, but now it’s nervous excitement fueling it rather than a gut-wrenching fear. A plan starts formulating in your mind of exactly what you need to grab, where you’re going, and how this is all going to unfold. Is this going to work? Will it actually be different? Has this experience changed you both enough to never let this go again?

Maybe you could go on their honeymoon? You're sure Matty paid every penny for it, so does that technically make it his? You could buy clothes when you get to Greece, the bridesmaid dress you're wearing now is comfy enough for a flight, plus you'll be too distracted to think anyway. The second he’s yours again none of this will matter, you can throw your phones in the ocean and forget it all. It can be fresh again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Anxiety-ridden feet tap against the stones as you wait by the back doors, fighting the urge to check your phone for the thousandth time since you snuck out of the venue. It takes a long time to ditch your wedding, it's not like the movies. Or that's what you tell yourself when it's been 15 minutes and there’s no sign of Matty, and no noises of commotion coming from inside.

You decide that if it gets to 20 minutes and Matty still hasn't come out, you'll intervene. That must be around the “does anyone object” bit right? Or maybe you can just cause a general drama, pretend to have a heart attack, just something long enough to let Matty slip out unnoticed. But if you're honest, you think that might be impossible when you’re the groom.

Tick, tick tick. 20 minutes pass, and still no sign, not even a buzz from inside. With a huff you decide to sneak in, tiptoeing through the kitchen readying yourself to peek your head through the door, maybe he just needs to see your face again, a reminder of what's waiting on the other side of the ruin.

“-sickness and in health” you hear Matty’s voice before you see him, the microphone shoved into his face by the priest, something your sister insisted on, makes him echo through the whole venue.

When you finally step out of the kitchen, your world suddenly collapses in front of you. There he is standing up hand in hand, with not a single sign he's about to run for his life. He feels you enter the room, the way he always has. It's what happens when you spend every waking second together, something in your brain becomes fine-tuned to knowing when the other is near, and the tug between you starts.

But he flicks his eyes for only a second, avoiding any chance of seeing the look on your face, even though he could see it every time he blinked. Suddenly his tie felt tighter, tugging at the skin of his neck rougher than it was before, strangling him. The air felt thinner like he was climbing Mount Everest without an oxygen tank, his body starved of air. But he had to keep pushing, he couldn't look.

“Matty?” the priest prompts, and it's then Matty realises in his panic he’s missed some kind of prompt, looking around helplessly as if it's going to be written on the officiant's forehead. 

“Your personal bit, honey” your sister hisses at him, quickly swapping her face for a calm grin and a giggle as she turns to the crowd, performing for them as she always does. She doesn't spot you standing in the corner wishing the ground would open up and swallow you, drag you down to the depths of hell that you’re sure would feel better than standing here watching your universe crumble.

“Oh right, um” Matty coughs awkwardly, his head darting to the side rapidly, fighting the urge to stare at you as he speaks, desperate to ditch the vows and instead blurt out an apology.

“You are my closest friend, my warmest love, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are part of me, and you know me better than anyone I've ever met. Thank you for knowing me the way you do, thank you for loving me,” his voice breaks as he speaks, a gentle cough coming up as he tries to fix the waver in his voice. 

The crowd coo at his emotion, Isn't he so sweet getting choked up over how much he adores her? But that's not the emotion clawing at his throat. Its guilt. It’s regret. It’s knowing he is honestly confessing his devotion, but he’s confessing it to the wrong person. It's knowing if he turned your head, he'd be facing exactly who he wants to speak to. But he can't. His head is glued exactly where it is, and if he moved it even one degree, he wouldn't be able to live with himself because of the look on her face, on your face.

The rest of the ceremony sounds like you're underwater, dragged under by the cold waves and forced to listen to muffled voices and cheers. Watching helplessly as he nods three times after saying I do, and studying the way his mouth meets hers when they say “You may now kiss the bride!”

Well, sometimes time changes everything. Sometimes it changes nothing at all.

[centrally-unplanned]

California Crisis: Gun Salvo

I watched the 1986 OVA California Crisis, and it was really good! This anime, if you have heard of it all (which is unlikely), is famous for two things. One is its look:

Which in anime form did not exist before, and has not existed since. When you research “California Crisis” in English the source everyone pulls from is this essay by longtime industry man Fred Patten, and he describes it as “the over-solarized art style most commonly associated with the commercial artist Patrick Nagel, who was very ‘in’ at the time.” I believe him on that being an influence - he worked with the creators after all - and my primary documents from said creators are quite limited; but those that I have never mention him. They certainly were aiming for Americana - but what is causing this unique look is the use of thick, black outlines on the inner shading of the characters (something Nagel doesn’t really do), which producer Yoshikazu Tochihira mentions as a common technique used on vehicles in anime at the time. Given how heavily cars and ‘copters feature in this, I think the look was also sort of its own idea to create stylistic cohesion between the key parts.

I am not going to say it always works - on our main girl Marcia it is sketch, those eyes man:

But for our boy Noera it comes out a lot nicer:

He has less demand to be “typical anime”; bishoujo can’t blend here but surfer bum absolutely can.

You get used to it over time though, and it excels at capturing the idealized West Coast aesthetic. In particular, by being “not anime” it really helps you feel like it is somewhere else than Japan. The OVA is filled with long panning shots of detailed Los Angeles streets and beaches, named restaurants and garbled English menu items aplenty. Our friend Fred Patton - who isn’t a fan - comments that “Animation fans at the time said, only half-humorously, that it looked like the main purpose of the video was for a handful of Japanese animators to come to California and take a road trip from San Diego to Los Angeles for location shots.” But that never happened - this was made on a shoestring budget, and according to the same source as before no such site visit occurred. Instead, reference material was gathered by “searching bookstores, travel agencies, libraries, and even the American Cultural Center”, and it was a lot of work to get the details even half-right from that. Stop spreading lies, Fred Patton! Wait until you get my strongly worded comment on your blog, I don’t care if you passed away 6 years ago (RIP an absolute legend), get your facts straight!

Aided in this sense of immersion is the OVA's second source of notoriety: the absolutely banging city pop soundtrack by pop star Miho Fujiwara. The OP, Streets Are Hot, lives up to the name, straight fire:

And while not as peak, the rest of the OST doesn’t disappoint. Anime Youtuber STEVEM has a video on California Crisis that digs into the music side, as the history of city pop is absolutely his jam; for me I will just comment that it is a little lost now how western city pop was in Japan. Today it is of course “peak Japan” after its 2010’s retro internet boom, but if you listen to pop music from 1970’s Japan you still hear a lot of blending of western musical sensibilities and more traditional Japanese vocal stylings and instrumentation. City pop was one of the earlier genres to fully shed the past and embrace synth instrumentation and modern vocal approaches. And the aesthetic often pulled specifically from California - these are not album covers that scream Tokyo:

All of this is to say that this OVA is not only of its time, but it also embodies its time - a paean to the California Dream of the 80’s Tokyo youth:

Fucking vibes, man, for this alone the OVA really hits for me. Though of course, for all the Americana it is still an anime:

(Which by the way, Marcia rides a motorcycle on the highway and is clearly like 17, so Noera's rejection of an offer of sex here is more linguistic evidence for the bifurcated meaning of the word “lolicon” to refer to both actual prepubescent eroticization but also any preference for “youth” over “maturity” in typologies of femininity, intersecting with the bishoujo boom of th- okay okay, put the gun down, I’ll move on, geez…)

Sadly for California Crisis, its contemporary audience disagreed quite strongly with this being a symbol of the era; it was a huge flop. The OVA was the flagship project of a new anime venture by producer Hiromasa Shibazaki called Hiro Media Associates, and that shoestring budget was some very thin string. Shibazaki was launching his own anime+ magazine at the time, Globian (as seen in the links above), which was used to advertise their works - but towards that goal California Crisis only ever produced a single promotional image, which you see utilized everywhere it is mentioned:

So it just didn’t have the resources behind it to draw in a crowd. And the crowd it did draw in, best I can tell, wasn’t enthused; the art style was off-putting, the plot itself is a bit of a meandering mess, the long panning shots are ~vibes~ yes but also ~budget~ and obviously so, and the ending is a bit of a vague question mark. It was supposedly going to have a sequel, but Hiro Media, and Globian alongside it, closed shop soon after it was released, leaving audiences feeling that it was unfinished.

I won’t begrudge anyone their taste, or pretend it is not a very uneven work. However, I want to redeem the OVA’s core narrative from its reputation; I think it is honestly great, and it absolutely does not need a sequel. So let’s get into the plot - this is a story of a 20-something bar hand Noera, who runs into motorcycle-riding teen Marcia alongside a quasi-sentient UFO orb that just crash landed on earth. It beckons telepathically to be taken to Death Valley, a call which Noera resists but Marcia commits to heart-and-soul. Along the way the military, the CIA, the Soviets, every deep state boogeyman you can think of, all try to stop them, car chases and gunfire akimbo. Our duo bond, eventually they succeed, and the alien gives off a Kubrickian abstract flash of light and then vanishes - roll credits.

Ignore all the details, the mechanics, the CIA, all that shit. Puzzling and unsatisfying when you are watching it as a 17 year old, sure, but you are smarter now, you can separate the wheat from the chaff. Instead, why does Marcia want to follow a random alien orb into Death Valley?

Hilarious levels of on-the-nose buzzword dropping, oh sure. But behind that? Marcia is a teen, looking for meaning. She watches TV, reads books, dreams of being a hero, a protagonist, and this is it - the call of adventure! She is being offered the slot of main character and she isn’t going to turn it down. She literally name-drops Close Encounters of the Third Kind as part of her motivation, she is story-brained. When you first hear this line, you are like Noera, you eye roll it. But on reflection there is nothing more American than being the center of the universe - it truly is the American Dream.

But Marcia is not the main character of this story - the singular promotional image is lying to you. Noera is as well, and he has wisdom she doesn’t. Noera lives in the city fringe on a low wage service job, driving a beat-up Chrysler he presumably maintains himself. A blue collar man of habit, a himbo before it was hip. He follows Marcia to protect her, he casually rejects her post-car-chase adrenaline-rush-induced sexual advances. And, while they are escaping the military by hiding in a bar, he runs into an old high school friend Jack - who happens to be one of those military agents!

We have been seeing this guy the whole OVA, running the entire alien hunt operation. Top of the class, super genius, going places. Noera is unphased, and he and Jack reminisce about gags and girls from the old days. Noera congratulates his friend for “getting out” of his hometown, as it were, and then plot-duty calls, Jack’s real life calls, and he has to leave. As he does, Noera calls out to him, “Come visit me!":

And Jack leaves without saying anything:

Because it isn’t highschool anymore, right? This guy is in the Big Leagues, he isn’t gonna schlep out to some podunk bar in Long Beach because a dude he used to help do his geometry homework offers him a dri-

Oh, nevermind! Because none of that shit matters, right? We are all just dudes, let’s share a beer.

Marcia stares unaware through the entire scene by the way:

This is Noera’s “culminating moment” for his story, and she doesn’t track it.

Chasey chasey fighty fighty Death Valley journey and Marcia delivers the orb, she wins, with Noera’s help she saves the alien. And so it pulses out a sparkly rainbow, something that could maybe be interpreted as a thank you, and then leaves - giving them absolutely nothing to show for their efforts. Marcia is left on a panning shot, shocked and disappointed, holding a now broken piece of useless glass. She was never the main character of anything. She just ran an errand.

This is such good American Dream commentary! It ends the way all stories about the American Dream end - with it being a sham. Because it is. It’s all narrative, all marketing, all the outside trappings of something disconnected from the inner reality. Since this isn’t a midcentury novel but an anime OVA, the trappings of success aren’t a detached suburban home and 2.5 kids - it's being the hero of an action adventure epic. But fiction is fiction no matter the genre. Marcia doesn’t get that yet - but Noera already did before the VHS tape began to play. And Marcia’s budding realization is paralleled with Noera's own showcase of the socio-economic dilemmas that more typically define the genre - success doesn’t change who you are or what you need.

Once you step back from the sci fi spycraft stuff - which admittedly trails off - and see the themes, the ending is perfect, a sequel would totally ruin this. This is the best 80’s anime OVA commentary on the American Dream done through an otaku lens around. Definitely beats all the others in that category, for sure. Totally.

Anyway if you wanna fight me about my hot take meet me at the Waffen SS bar in 1980’s LA where I will be getting the shit kicked out of me for yelling my center-left political opinions while tipsily standing on the bartop:

All that research and I still have no explanation for this shot.