#I still stand in the patio door and watch them to this day

[wtfuckevenknows]

We’re under severe thunderstorm warning?????

THE SKY LOOKS LIKE THIS AGAIN AND I DIDNT GET IT AND I FEEL LET DOWN 😭😭😭 (I just got a little bit of rain)

[eu-nicola]

Topper's sister

summary: since you were a child you had been in love with Rafe even though he never saw you, he always saw you as his best friend's little sister and nothing else, until one night everything changed.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4487

author's note: english is not my first language

Since you were a child, you had always been Topper's "little sister." You grew up surrounded by him and his friends, watching from the shadows as they lived their days with a carefree attitude that you, in your innocence, envied. Among them all, Rafe Cameron had been your beacon. A platonic love that had begun when you were barely ten years old and he was already an arrogant and charming teenager.

It was impossible not to notice Rafe. With his easy laugh, his hair messy from the wind, and that confidence that radiated as if the world belonged to him. Every time he came to your house, he would greet you with a quick knock on the door before entering without waiting for an answer, and he always gave you the same gesture: a distracted flutter in his hair, as if you were a pet he found cute.

"Hey, little one." That was his standard greeting. A casual smile, without stopping to look at you for more than a second.

It made you burn inside. Not with hate, but with frustration. To him, you had always been the girl Topper shared DNA with, nothing more.

But time had passed. You were sixteen now, and you were no longer that shy girl who watched from the stairs as the boys joked and drank in the living room. You had changed. Your eyes, once filled with naivety, now knew how to see beyond the surface. Your hair fell in neat waves, and your style had become refined. You knew that many of Topper’s friends looked at you differently. The pool boy last week, Kelce at the last party, even some who were more distant were starting to seek your attention.

Except Rafe.

He was still the only exception.

One summer afternoon was an especially hot day, and as usual, Topper had invited his friends over to spend the day at the pool. You were in the kitchen, looking for something cold to drink, when you heard the familiar voices from the patio. Rafe’s laughter was loud, and as an automatic reflex, you looked out the window. There he was, with his cocky grin, throwing a ball back and forth with Topper and Kelce.

You decided to join in. You were no longer the girl who hid; now you knew how to move in his world. You came out with a glass of lemonade in your hand and headed toward the group.

“Maintaining the pool again?” you commented with a hint of mockery.

Topper rolled his eyes, but it was Kelce who answered first, smiling in a way you had seen before.

“There’s always room for you.”

Rafe didn’t even bother to look at you. He kept his eyes on the ball, as if your presence wasn’t worthy of his attention. That indifference stung, but you refused to let him notice.

“Sure, Kelce. Because you’re always such a gentleman,” you replied with a wink, playing along with his flirtation.

You sat down in one of the nearby chairs, letting the sun warm your skin as you feigned disinterest. You knew the others were looking at you, but your eyes were focused only on Rafe. Despite everything, he was still the one who held your attention.

After a while, the dynamic changed. Topper and Kelce decided to get into the water, leaving Rafe alone by the table. Without thinking much, you stood up and walked over.

“Are you going to stand there like a guard or are you going to have fun?” you asked, taking a seat next to him.

Finally, Rafe looked at you. His blue eyes met yours for a brief moment, and for the first time in a long time, he seemed to notice something different. But his usual smile quickly returned.

“Someone has to keep order. I don’t trust those two.” He pointed at Topper and Kelce, who were fighting over a float.

You rolled your eyes, leaning a little closer to him.

“Always so responsible, Rafe? You surprise me.”

“And you’re always so curious, huh?”

There was a mocking tone in his voice, but also something else. Something that made you wonder if, after all these years, Rafe was starting to see you as more than just Topper’s little sister. But you shouldn’t get your hopes up; you knew Rafe Cameron and his world of dangerous games all too well.

The afternoon passed without any major problems. The boys joked around and competed in absurd games, like who could stay on the float the longest or who could do the best dive from the edge of the pool. You joined them at times, letting the laughter flow freely. You felt the gazes of Kelce and the other boys on you, but as always, you didn't care enough.

Even so, there was something different in the air. A subtle tension. At one point, as you were toweling off after a dip, Kelce approached with a playful grin.

“So… you’re going to the party tonight, right?” he asked, leaning slightly towards you.

“Sure,” you replied without hesitation.

“Perfect.” Kelce winked at you and walked away, but not before Rafe pushed him away with a light punch on the shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Rafe said with a dry laugh.

“Just being friendly,” Kelce replied with a crooked grin, knowing full well what he was doing.

You watched the interaction, trying to figure out if there was something more behind Rafe’s reaction, but he didn’t say anything else. He simply turned away and refocused on the game. Although his apparent indifference was still present, you couldn’t ignore the small spark you’d seen in his eyes.

As the sun began to set, everyone started packing up their things. The boys went home to get ready for the party, while you stayed a little longer by the pool. You enjoyed the moment of calm, letting the warm breeze caress your skin before heading inside.

In your room, you opened your closet, searching for the perfect outfit for the night. You knew the party was going to be big; the entire Outer Banks was talking about it. You wanted to stand out, not only because you knew a lot of eyes would be on you, but also because you wanted to provoke a specific reaction. You wanted him to see you.

You chose a tight, deep blue dress, which highlighted your eyes and hugged your figure in all the right places. You carefully applied your makeup, opting for a style that combined naturalness with a hint of boldness. Looking in the mirror, you knew you were ready.

You walked down the stairs just as the first guests began to arrive. The house was already filled with music and laughter. Topper, as always, was in his element, greeting everyone and making sure drinks were never in short supply.

Hours later the atmosphere was electric. The house was filled with young people dancing, drinking and chatting in every corner. You walked through the living room confidently, greeting a few acquaintances before heading out to the patio where most of them were congregating. There, under the dim lights hanging over the pool, you saw Rafe.

He was leaning against the railing, a glass in his hand and that carefree smile that seemed permanent on his face. He was talking to a group of guys, but even from a distance, you could notice how some girls tried to catch his attention. He, however, ignored them with an ease that you found frustrating and fascinating in equal parts.

You decided not to approach him right away. Instead, you moved through the party, letting others come to you. Kelce appeared almost instantly, offering you a drink and throwing out flattering comments that you accepted with a smile.

However, every time you turned your head, your eyes went back to find Rafe. You watched him move around, talking to Topper or just watching the crowd, but never coming close to you.

After a while, you felt somewhat suffocated by the crowd and decided to step out onto the back balcony for a moment. The music was muffled, and the fresh air was a relief. You leaned on the railing, enjoying the brief respite.

You hadn’t been there more than a few minutes when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned your head and, to your surprise, it was Rafe.

“Escaping the party?” he asked with that smile he seemed to have been practicing for years.

“Just taking a break.” You shrugged, trying to remain calm.

He walked over and leaned on the railing beside you. For the first time in a long time, you were alone with him, without the distraction of others.

“Kelce seems to be quite interested in you,” he commented casually, though there was something in his tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

“And that bothers you?” “You asked, challenging him with your gaze.

Rafe let out a low laugh, turning his head to you.

“Should I?”

You didn’t answer right away. There was a tension in the air, an energy that seemed to envelop the two of you. Finally, you decided that, this time, you weren’t going to be the first to give in.

“I guess not,” you said with a hint of sarcasm, before looking away towards the horizon.

The silence that followed was brief, but loaded with meaning.

“Maybe.” His reply was almost a whisper.

The tension on the balcony was almost unbearable, but you refused to be the one to give in. Without giving him time to respond or analyze his words further, you stepped away from the railing and left him there, with his thoughts. You weren’t going to let that little moment consume you, not when there was an entire party waiting for you.

You went back inside the house, and as soon as you walked through the door, someone handed you a glass. You accepted it without thinking much, feeling the alcohol begin to warm your veins. The music was louder, the lights dimmer, and the energy of the party enveloped you again.

Soon you found yourself in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by bodies moving to the beat of the music. It wasn't long before one of Topper's friends approached, a boy who had always tried to catch your attention. You knew that tonight he had his goal clear too, and it didn't bother you at all.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked you with a cheeky smile, already a few drinks in.

"Why not?" you answered, letting yourself be carried away by the music and the atmosphere.

He positioned himself close to you, his hands resting on your waist as you both followed the rhythm of the music. There wasn't a considerable space between you, and the closeness was enough to make other eyes fall on you, although you didn't care. At least, not until you felt a different presence at your side.

Suddenly, a strong hand rested on your arm, gently but firmly pulling you away from the boy you were dancing with. When you looked up, you met Rafe's eyes. His face was serious, and though his balance wasn’t perfect due to the alcohol, his gaze burned with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“Come on,” he said in a deep voice, almost inaudible over the music.

“What are you doing, Rafe?” you asked, surprised and confused, as he led you through the crowd.

“You shouldn’t be with him,” he replied, not even looking back.

You, your head clouded by the drinks you had consumed, could barely process what was happening. Before you knew it, you were in one of the rooms upstairs, away from the noise of the party.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, breaking free from his grip.

Rafe closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. There was something different in his gaze, something beyond the alcohol.

“I don’t know…” he murmured.

The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. You moved closer, your heart pounding in your chest. There were so many emotions mixed together: frustration, desire, confusion. Rafe looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t seem to have all the answers.

So, without thinking about it any further, you took a step closer and kissed him. It was an impulsive kiss, filled with years of repressed emotions. At first, Rafe seemed surprised, but he quickly reciprocated.

The kiss intensified, and soon everything else faded away. There was no one else, no past or future, just that moment.

What happened next was a mix of desire and confusion. You were both drunk, and even though your thoughts tried to stay clear, your actions betrayed you. That night was the first time you were with a man, and it was with him, with Rafe, the person you had idealized for so long.

You didn't say anything about it, and you didn't afterward either. Rafe didn't ask you, nor did he seem to care. To him, it was just another night, a mistake caused by alcohol and closeness.

When it was all over, you stayed silent, staring at the ceiling as he quickly got dressed. Rafe wasn't the type to stick around, and you knew that even before he opened his mouth.

“This isn’t going to happen again,” he said, his voice hoarse and tired. “We were just drunk, that’s all.”

It hurt, but you didn’t show it. Instead, you shrugged, pretending you didn’t care.

“I know.”

He gave you one last look, like he was searching for something in your expression, but when he found nothing, he simply left, closing the door behind him.

You stood there for a few minutes, letting reality hit you. You had known something like this could happen, that once you were around Rafe, your feelings would complicate everything again. But you also knew you weren’t going to let it define you.

You stood up, fixed your dress, and walked out of the room, ready to face the rest of the night. Rafe might want to pretend nothing had happened, but you weren’t going to get caught up in that. If he wanted to forget about it, you would too.

You returned to the party, head held high and a confident smile. There were more drinks, more laughter, more glances. Kelce found you again, and this time, you didn't hesitate to accept his attention.

The days following the party were a whirlwind of emotions for you. Every time you saw Rafe, a knot formed in your stomach. However, he didn't seem affected at all. He acted as if that night had never happened, as if it had all been an unimportant blur.

You expected it, but it didn't hurt any less. You had spent years dreaming of a moment like this, imagining what it would be like if Rafe finally saw you as more than "Topper's little sister." And even though it had happened, the reality was very different from your fantasies.

Rafe was back to his old self: distant, cocky, focused on his own world. His interactions with you were sporadic and cordial, if anything. There wasn’t a single sign that he remembered what happened, let alone cared.

You, for your part, tried to stay strong. You knew you couldn’t let a single moment define your life, but that was easier said than done. Despite everything, you were still in love with him. Every time he walked into a room, your attention was automatically drawn to him, even if you tried hard to look away.

You spent more time with Topper’s friends, especially Kelce, who seemed determined to win your attention. Kelce was friendly and knew how to make you laugh, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never make you completely forget about Rafe.

At night, you found yourself replaying the moments from that night over and over in your mind. You remembered his hands on you, the warmth of his body, the intensity of his gaze. But every time those memories came up, you forced yourself to push them away. Rafe had been clear: it wasn’t going to happen again.

Everything was moving on, and it was impossible to avoid Rafe entirely. You often saw him around the house, chatting with Topper or relaxing by the pool. When you were around him, you tried to act natural, but each interaction was harder than you wanted to admit.

One day, while you were in the kitchen preparing something to eat, Rafe came in, reaching for a beer in the fridge. For a moment, you were alone, silence filling the space between you.

“Everything okay?” he asked casually, not looking at you as he opened the bottle.

“Yeah, everything okay,” you replied in a neutral tone, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rafe nodded and leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his drink. There were no more words between you, and after a few minutes, he simply walked out of the kitchen, leaving you alone once again.

Those kinds of encounters became commonplace. Rafe was always polite, but it never went beyond a “hello” or an occasional question. It seemed like for him, nothing out of the ordinary had really happened.

You decided you couldn’t stay stuck in that cycle anymore. If Rafe could ignore what happened, then you could try too. You pushed yourself to focus on other things: hanging out with your friends, focusing on your own interests, even considering the idea of ​​starting something with someone new.

Yet every little bit of progress fell apart the moment you saw Rafe. There was something about him that always drew you back, as if your heart refused to accept what your mind already knew.

One afternoon, as you sat on the patio, watching the waves in the distance, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned your head and saw Rafe, walking with that nonchalance that always seemed to accompany him. He sat down on one of the nearby chairs, not saying anything at first.

“Thinking about something deep?” he finally asked, with a slight smile.

You didn’t answer right away. You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure.

“Maybe,” you finally said, without looking at him.

Rafe didn’t press. He stayed silent, sipping from his glass as you both stared at the horizon. For a moment, you almost seemed like friends, like there was nothing strange between you. But you knew it was just a passing illusion.

That was the problem with Rafe. He always managed to sneak into your life, into your thoughts, even when you tried to keep him out.

Days after trying to ignore him, there was another party but this time not at your house but at Rafe’s house. The music was pumping loudly, filling every corner of the house. The lights flickered to the beat of the bass, while the air was charged with the energy of bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. You stood in the center of the dance floor, lost in the music, letting a boy lead you confidently. He was attractive, and his smile had a mischievous touch that kept your thoughts away from Rafe, at least for a while.

“You’re a great dancer,” the boy told you, leaning close to your ear so you could hear him over the music.

You smiled, grateful for the compliment, although it didn’t affect you too much. All you wanted was to enjoy the night without complications, without thinking about what had happened days ago. But just when you thought you could finally relax, you felt a strong hand on your arm.

“That’s enough,” you heard Rafe’s voice, sharp and determined, as he pulled you away from the boy.

You turned quickly, coming face to face with him. His eyes, despite the slight glint of alcohol, were filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time. The boy you were dancing with raised his hands, taking a few steps back, clearly not wanting to confront Rafe.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, pulling away from his hold, furious at the interruption.

“What am I doing?” Rafe repeated, as if the answer was obvious. “What do you think you’re doing, dancing with him like that?”

You stared at him incredulously, your emotions swinging between surprise and anger.

“Excuse me? Since when do you care who I dance with?”

Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed together, his jaw tensing.

“I don’t care, but you don’t have to behave like that in front of everyone.”

“Behave like that?” you laughed bitterly. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rafe. You’re nobody to butt into my life.”

His face showed a hint of something, maybe surprise, maybe frustration. But he quickly hid it, taking a step back.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his tone cold and distant. “I’m nobody.”

With that, Rafe turned around and walked away, leaving you there, your heart pounding and a mix of emotions you couldn't control.

You stood in the center of the dance floor, watching him walk away. The music continued, people continued dancing, but to you everything seemed to have paused. His words echoed in your mind: I'm nobody.

You tried to regain your composure. You went back to where your friends were, but your mood was no longer the same. Although you pretended everything was fine, inside you the anger and confusion continued to grow.

Rafe had made his point clear: he didn't want anything serious, but he didn't seem to want you to be with someone else either. What right did he have to make a scene out of jealousy if you meant nothing to him?

You took a long drink from the drink someone offered you, determined to erase that moment from your mind.

The next morning the sun shone high in the sky as the group enjoyed the afternoon by Topper's pool. You were lying on a lounge chair, your sunglasses covering half your face, letting the heat tan your skin. You could hear the sound of the waves in the distance and the laughter of the boys drinking beers near the pool.

Rafe was there, of course, sitting next to Topper and Kelce. You tried not to look at him, concentrating on the book in your hands, even though you hadn’t read a single word since you sat down. Your tranquility was interrupted, however, when one of Topper’s friends, a boy named Mason, decided to approach.

“Enjoying the sun?” he asked with a smile, leaning in slightly so you could hear him.

You looked up over your sunglasses and smiled lightly at him.

“Yeah, it’s a nice day,” you replied in a relaxed tone.

Mason sat on the edge of your lounge chair, his presence much closer than you expected.

“I was thinking maybe we could take advantage of this nice day and go out on the jet ski later. What do you say?” he suggested, clearly interested in spending more time with you.

Before you could answer, you felt a shadow approaching. Rafe was now standing next to your lounge chair, his gaze fixed on Mason.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, Mason?” Rafe asked with a tight smile, though his tone made it clear it wasn’t a friendly suggestion.

Mason looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t move immediately.

“I was just talking to her, man. Relax.”

“Well, talk from over there,” Rafe replied, pointing towards the group of guys by the pool.

You sat up, furious, and pushed your sunglasses aside to face him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?” you snapped, your voice filled with anger.

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, simply keeping his gaze fixed on Mason until he finally stood up and walked back to the group. Then, he turned his attention back to you.

“Can we talk?” he said in a tone that tried to be softer.

“No, we can’t.” You stood up from the lounge chair and grabbed your towel. Without waiting for an answer, you headed into the house, leaving Rafe standing by the pool.

You went up to your room, closed the door behind you, and dropped onto the bed, trying to calm yourself down. But it wasn’t more than a few minutes before the door slammed open. Rafe had walked in without even knocking, his face a mix of frustration and determination.

“What do you want now?” you asked, standing up to face him.

“I want to know what the hell you’re doing,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“What am I doing?” you repeated in disbelief. “I’m the one who should be asking you that! You were clear, Rafe. Our thing was just one night. I accepted it, remember? So why do you keep showing up every time someone else is paying attention to me?”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice lower.

That only made you angrier.

“Well, I do know that. You have no right to butt into my life, Rafe. No right to make me jealous when you yourself said it meant nothing.”

Rafe stayed silent, his eyes locked on yours. He knew you were right, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to respond. Instead, he took a step towards you, and before you could react, his lips were on yours.

You resisted at first, pushing him away slightly, still angry. But Rafe didn’t pull away, and after a second, the tension between you exploded. You gave in, kissing him back with the same intensity. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe looked at you, his eyes darker now, filled with desire.

“We have to stop here,” he said quietly, though his hands were still firmly gripped by your hips. “If we don’t, I won’t be able to stop later.”

You stared at him, not pulling away.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, with a determination that surprised even yourself.

That was all it took. Rafe kissed you again, more urgently this time, as he led you toward the bed. You both knew you were crossing a line, but at that moment, neither of you seemed to care.

[rustedhearts]

just friends (again) (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you’ve convinced everyone around you that you and steve are just friends. now you just have to convince yourself—but it proves difficult when steve finally admits how he feels.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ just friends (part one) ✶ the library

tags: pining, yearning, they want each other so bad they're so stupid, little angst/hurt/comfort, oh steve harrington the man that you are. didn't proofread so ignore any mistakes oops.

buy me a ko-fi! (my blurb commissions are also still open!)

“I’m having a little carpet picnic.”

Julia Roberts’ voice filled the living room with a familiar warmth. The pinks and whites of the Beverly Hills hotel room from Pretty Woman coated the coach and the surface of your face with a gentle glow. The Chinese food you ordered a few hours ago was starting to stink. Even Ted, who was curled at your feet for most of your movie marathon, could no longer stand the vegetative life and scampered away.

It had been a week since Eddie broke things off. After Steve punched him, you spent the Sunday post-knockout calling and texting, hoping to sort things out. But Eddie never picked up. Eddie never replied. You figured stopping by the shop was a bit too far—if he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve by now.

So here you were, spending another weekend on the couch. Single. Broke. Lonely.

“He thought I was cheating on him,” is the excuse you have for getting dumped.

But the look on Theresa’s face when you told her is the first time it made you recoil. The first time you doubted that Eddie was 100%, entirely out of his mind.

Theresa winced into the overpriced lattes you were drinking at a curbside patio on Wednesday. “Well…I mean…”

And you gasped, mouth agape and heart hammering in your chest. What the fuck did that mean? Because you were just friends. All Steve ever was and is: your best friend. Why did everyone act like you were having a secret affair when the doors were closed on the public?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me—“

“I’m not defending the prick,” Theresa justified. “He was an asshole for talking to you like that. But I can see why he might have thought that. You and Steve are really close. Like…very close.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted.

And Theresa dropped it, holding her hands above her latte with innocent agreement. But her words haunted you the entire week. Every time Steve filled your coffee and had it ready on the counter for your commute to work (he even used your favorite travel mug). Every time he came home with a bag of peanut m&ms when he dropped by the store because it was the little treat you always asked for, but he didn’t even need to be asked anymore.

But like any other Saturday, the apartment was void of him for most of the day. He mumbled some excuse about going to the mall through your door this morning, and when he came home twenty minutes into Pretty Woman with an Abercrombie shopping bag, you knew he’d been date shopping.

“Hey,” he called to you, door clamping closed behind him. His keys jingled on their toss toward the table cluttered with half-opened mail.

Cheek squished against a throw pillow, body splayed flat on the couch, you cut him a glance sideways and adjusted the volume. “Hey.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and set his bag near the door, making your chest tighten when he immediately sauntered toward the couch. He turned to the tv with his hands on his hips.

He asked what he always asked, despite his eyes watching the very thing. “Watchya watchin’?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Did you already watch Mystic Pizza?”

“Yep.”

Steve sighed. “Damn. Alright, well, scooch over.”

When he plucked your feet up and flopped down under them, he smelled like the sickeningly sweet butter of a soft pretzel, and the overwhelming stench of Abercrombie & Fitch. You couldn’t believe he still shopped there.

His hands were still resting on your ankles, bracing your feet against his jean-clad thighs. His touch was warm, soft, all-encompassing—and suddenly all you could think about even as Richard Gere came on screen. Steve's touch, his heat, the body those hands came attached to resting just inches away. He was wearing blue today. He looked so good in blue.

You swallowed and coughed, cheek rubbing on the pillow. Steve’s finger twitched around your calf.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you croaked.

His eyes bored into you for a moment before he turned back to Julia Roberts. "Notting Hill or My Best Friend's Wedding after this?"

Your lips parted to reply, but then his finger began tracing shapes into the patch of skin between the bottom of your pant leg and the elastic of your sock. Air choked in your throat. Your eyes bulged on the glowing television screen. The muscles in the center of your body knotted and squeezed like nausea.

In your stock-still state, it didn't even occur to you that Steve somehow knew your entire I'm-sad-and-can-only-watch-Julia-Roberts-movies marathon setlist, but it certainly crossed your mind later on. You and Steve are really close. Maybe Theresa had a point.

"Um..." Your tongue darted out to lick your suddenly-dry lips.

"You good over there?" Steve chuckled, head tipping to gauge the features and their current predicament on your face.

You buried it further into the pillow, as far as it could go without hiding completely. "Yes, Steve, I'm fine."

Steve pulled back, settling into the couch again. "Jeez, oh-kay."

He waited a moment, and you inched free from your pillow enough to bring your eye back to the television, doing your best to focus on the movie you'd seen a million times and not Steve's hand sweeping under your pant leg. He'd done that a million times, too. Touched you. Felt you.

He held your hand when you crossed the road like a child that needed guidance. He braced your back to move you which way he wanted, and to pull you close when public situational occurrences arose that made him uncomfortable. He brushed your hair once when you were victim to an ungodly illness that had you picturing death. He removed your makeup on your birthday last year when you got so drunk you puked in the doorway.

His hands were always so gentle. His touch was always so soft.

But, God, why did it feel so different right now? Why did it feel so good?

"Want a mall haul?" Steve asked, too uncomfortable in the sudden silence of the living room. He was already standing and placing your feet back on their own before you could reply.

In your periphery, he headed toward the door to retrieve the bags he neglected. "Got a couple shirts to try. Also, am I too old for that store? I swear, everyone in there was like a little Taylor Lautner wannabe from 2012—meaning they were fourteen and on steroids—"

"Steve!"

He stopped. Standing at the edge of the rug with both hands on the corded handles of his Abercrombie & Fitch shopping bag to pull it open. The snicker gathering in his throat hitched into a snort, smirk drooping into wide-eyed surprise.

You never yelled. Not at him. Not at anyone that didn't deserve it, like the neighbors when they were arguing too loud again and you were trying to nap. Like the guy that tried to steal Steve's package a few months ago that you nearly tackled down the hall.

But never Steve.

You shot up on the couch, hands flying to your pounding head. "Just...please! I don't want a mall haul, I don't want to talk, I just...—I just wanna be alone."

Steve blinked, cheeks colored pink. He closed the bag slowly, paper crinkling as he went. He took it in one hand and backed up, stepping off the rug foot by foot. He glanced at Ted, who skittered in surprise at your outburst and was standing with an arched back and black pupils near the tv stand.

"Uh...yeah, okay. Sorry," he mumbled, scratching at the nape of his neck.

Your shoulders slumped, deflating into the couch as Steve turned his eyes to the floor and tugged at the back of his hair. That stress tick again—the one you hated causing. He turned slowly, caution stiff in his spine. You watched his finger twist and wind into a lock of chestnut hair as he trudged into the hall. His door clamped closed a moment later.

A heavy, moaning sigh shuddered from your mouth as you flopped back on the pillow. Two arms locked over your head, pressing down on your eyes to blind them and the horror you created.

"Slippery little suckers," Julia Roberts snickered on the screen.

"It happens all the time."

✶ ✶

You ate dinner separately. It was the first time you'd ever eaten dinner separately within the same four walls. Even the night you moved in together, when you were nothing but a pair of strangers gauging how weird it might be to live with the opposite sex without something romantic or sexual in the undertones—even then, you ate a greasy cheese pizza together on the living room floor with an empty box as makeshift table.

He asked all the right get-to-know-you questions, and when he successfully made you laugh with all his snarks and quips, you knew Steve Harrington would be an alright roommate. You never figured he'd become your best friend.

Tonight, you pouted into the salad you regretted purchasing yesterday because a "healthy" lifestyle was born and had died within the span of your forty minute shopping trip. And now, you wanted nothing but another wet, shiny pizza, and Steve Harrington's dumb jokes.

He ate in his room. Shuffled out while you were finishing Notting Hill and made another bland chicken-rice-and-broccoli dinner. And then he shuffled past you, shut his door, and ate it alone. Never even giving you a chance to tease his unseasoned plate for the purpose of "gains." You thought he could remain just as toned and handsome with flavor on his food.

By the time you were showered, redressed, and gurgling with lingering hunger, you were properly sour with guilt.

And maybe the black sweatpants with the bedazzled jewels on your ass were pulled on with manipulative purpose before you shuffled to Steve's door. You lingered there a while, gnawing on the skin around your thumbnail and glancing between the wood grain of Steve's door and the plush surface of your yellow slippers. At this proximity, you could hear the low hum of his radio behind the door. He had a strange affection for the 70s and 80s station.

If only you knew that it was because Steve knew "the all time hits of the 70s and 80s" were your favorite.

The radio dimmed, and a moment later Steve's voice called through the door. "I can hear you lingering out there."

You jumped, stepping away from the door. Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth piercing the skin to nibble it away. The shuffle of feet and jingle of the doorknob came too swiftly for you to evade, and then the door swung open to reveal Steve in grey sweatpants and a tight red t-shirt. He looked good in red, too.

"Oh. Hi," you murmured, hand instantly dropping to your side.

Steve caged the doorway, biceps bulging on either side. You averted your eyes with a swallow.

He sighed. "Hi."

Steve watched you sweep a slippered foot back and forth like sloshing through water. He tipped his head and bit away a smile when he caught the edge of a jewel on your hip. His favorite sweatpants.

"Are you mad at me?"

Steve sighed again, this time a little shaken with laughter. "No, kid. I ain't mad at ya."

To prove his point, he nudged the door open with his palm and motioned toward the bedroom behind him. "Come on in."

You flopped on the edge of his bed, bounced up and down by old springs. Steve swung the door closed and joined you, easing back against his wooden headboard to reassume his rumpled position. He reached toward the nightstand and turned the knob on the radio to lower the Elton John song playing.

Steve snatched the small plastic basketball from behind the radio and tossed it in the air. "So, what's goin' on?"

You watched the ball soar into the air and come back down into his palm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just...cranky."

Steve quirked a brow, catching your eye over an orange blur when he threw the ball again. "Yeah? That all?"

The corners of your mouth pulled down. "Yeah...? What else would it be."

Steve shrugged, chin turned up toward the ceiling as he watched the basketball fly toward it. Elton John died down and switched to Def Leppard. "Hysteria" was one of Steve's favorite songs.

"You tell me. You were having a Julia Roberts marathon."

"So?" Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth ripping at the skin.

"You only watch Julia Roberts when you're sad."

"Not true."

Steve fixed his head straight again, eyes narrowing into a pointed look. The basketball sat in his right palm against his chest. You huffed, angling yourself toward the door to glare at it instead of your roommate and his smug, all knowing expression.

He waited a while, like he always did—waiting out your stubbornness and refusing to let it break him. You could talk to him, you knew that. He wanted you to know that.

"I guess..." You sighed, throwing yourself back on the bed with your arms locked over your eyes. "I guess I'm just upset that Eddie still hasn't called. I've been calling and texting him, but...he doesn't wanna see me."

Steve immediately felt every blood cell in his body curdle. Like they were burning and festering, irritated under his skin. He swallowed, bringing the basketball to sit between his knees where he could pick at the design with blunt fingernails.

"And you want to see him?"

You dropped your arms, letting them plop to your sides. "I mean...yeah."

Steve couldn't help it—he scoffed.

The sound had your head turning, brows furrowed his way. His head was shaking, eyes focused distinctly downward to avoid yours. All the smugness of his expression dimmed into something distasteful and angry.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing."

"You scoffed."

"I sighed."

"No, you scoffed."

"Well—"

This time, Steve did sigh. He took the basketball in his hands and chucked it toward the door, causing it to boomerang off the wood and catapult back toward the mattress again. The sharp smack had you jolting upward, and your eyes widened on Steve when he hopped from the bed and stood to his feet.

"What the hell—"

"He's not good enough for you!"

You paused on weak wrists used to push you upward. Steve stood a foot away from the bed with pink cheeks and outstretched hands. They curled back toward him to sweep through his hair and tug hard at the roots.

"Steve—"

"He sucks. Alright? All your ex boyfriends sucked, but especially Eddie. He didn't understand you, he didn't appreciate you. He made you cry, for fuck's sake, and you want him back? I just don't get it."

Your lips parted, but it felt like gulping for water on dry land. And Steve watched, helplessly, as you stammered for words in the face of his impending and inevitable confession. Inevitably painful, he knew, but he could no longer stomach the tireless routine of finding the body closest to yours in another dark bar, hoping she would comfort him enough to soothe the ache he had for you.

You, who slept across the hall and shared the sofa with your head on his shoulder. You, who looked at him like some sort of light source with those little round eyes. You, who made his heart pound and weep endlessly every second that you were near, and every moment you were away—leaving him in a constant, centrifugal loop of torture.

So—knowing it might ruin every bit of good the pair of you worked so hard to keep—Steve stepped closer to the bed and swallowed. He prepared himself to form the words he'd practiced a million times over in his head.

"I just figured that eventually...you'd get tired of all the wrong guys, and realize that...I'm here. That it was me, that you loved me. Because I love you—don't you love me?"

He paused, but it would never have been enough time for your mind to process his proclamation. He had a look of such anguish embedded in his features, all scrunched and screwed together with wet, shiny eyes.

"And I figured it was easier to sleep my way around than sit and watch you waste your time with these idiots. But they were never you. And I never bothered to get to know them, because I only wanted to know you."

Your breath hitched when Steve crowded your corner of the bed, hands clasped over his chest. You had to tip your head back to meet his eye, and you felt your arms shake in their locked position holding you up. The sight of him blurred with the onset of your own hot, salty tears.

Steve sniffed: a wet slurp proceeded by a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it quickly and sank to his knees before you on the bed, hands coming to cradle your bent knees.

"I just can't take it any longer," he whispered, and his hazel eyes were like shiny coins gazing up at you.

His lips were wet with his own tears. His tongue swept them away. Every breath inhaled rattled in his chest, and every exhale shuddered his cheeks full. He chuckled when he rubbed his palm into his eye and turned it red, sweeping his forearm over his face to clear the tears again but they just kept coming.

"Fuck, say something, please," he huffed, lacing it with laughter despite its absence of humor.

Your throat felt like it swelled to twice the size. Sickness rolled in your stomach. But it only grew at the thought of breaking Steve's heart with your silence. Because the longer he looked at you with those almond eyes, and the longer he sniffled and massaged your knees to comfort himself—the more your heart crumbled.

"I...I don't know what to say," you croaked.

Steve inhaled again, stuttering through a sniffle. He wiped his cheek on your knee and chuckled again. "Yeah. Yeah, of course—it's okay."

"Steve—"

"It's okay," he insisted, scrambling to his feet. He backed away toward the door and you finished pulling yourself upright.

"Steve, wait—"

"Really, it's okay, honey. I'm just gonna...—we ran out of ice cream, so 'm gonna g-go—go get some. Mint chip, yeah? Okay."

He sniffled again upon his exit, slipping through a small crevice he opened the door to. The front door slammed shut moments later, and you rolled onto your stomach to unleash a scream into Steve's mattress.

"Stay tuned for more all time hits of the 70s and 80s!"

✶ ✶

Steve did not return with the mint chip until nearly midnight. It came in a plastic bag that announced his arrival even before the clamber of keys. Yet, it was the squeal of old hinges that woke you from your couch slumber, and you jolted upright as the door swung open.

Steve closed the door and stood there for a moment, spotting you in the dimness of the living room. You rubbed your eye and he shifted on his feet. Ted scampered off the couch and butted at Steve's calf.

He held up the plastic bag. "Got the mint chip. It's uh...it's all melted now, though."

You wanted to reply, to make him feel better again. His eyes were still pink and puffy, and you hated the thought of him spending hours in his car or another dark bar agonizing over what you might be thinking. Worst of all, regretting any of what he said.

Because you spent the past few hours doing plenty of thinking. You laid in his bed, curled on your side, and looked at all the pictures pinned to a cork board above his desk.

The sepia toned film strip from a wedding last fall where you took him as your date. You were smiling in every one, and to the unbeknownst you might have already appeared as a couple.

The Polaroid from his most recent birthday, where you were sitting on his shoulders and clutching onto his hair for dear life. His sister took the picture.

The black and white he printed from his phone of just you on a park bench, feeding the ducks. You never even knew he had that one.

And when you shuffled to your room, you suddenly stopped. The clack of hard-bottomed slippers caught your attention, and you looked down at the plush yellow footwear around your toes—a gift from Steve.

You stood on the other side of your bed and stared at the windowsill full of miscellaneous yellow items all gifted from Steve. The movie ticket stubs shoved in your mirror and the hundreds thrown in a box on your dresser because you'd probably seen a thousand over the years with Steve, who loved movie theater popcorn and sitting close to you in the dark.

The birthday cards he wrote extensive messages of well wishes and gratitude for your friendship in with terrible penmanship. The purse he bought you for that you said you liked in passing but would never spend that much money on, and the note still tucked inside the zipper that came pasted to the bag on Christmas morning:

Because you deserve it.

Love, Steve

And then you ended up on the couch, falling asleep watching the door and waiting for it to open.

Steve trudged to the kitchen while you were lost in thought, and you hurried to catch up as he swung the freezer open. He wrapped the plastic bag around the pint of the ice cream and stuck it on the top shelf, hand reaching to close the door—when he was pushed forward by a force crashing into him.

And then there was warmth around his stomach: two arms curling around his ribs. Two hands pressing to his stomach and pulling him in. Steve stopped, immobilized in the open freezer door.

"I'm sorry," you breathed into his shirt, eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I was just so stunned. And I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, Steve, for letting this go on for so long. Of course I love you, of course you love me—God, I just never wanted to ruin everything. But you make me so happy, and I—"

Steve spun around, causing your head to lift off his back. You went to drop your arms, but he instantly brought them around his neck. Two hands, still frozen from melting ice cream, braced your cheeks.

"You mean it?"

You nodded in his hold, happy to see his hazel eyes free and clear of tears. "Yes. Yes, of course I mean it—"

"Oh, thank fucking God," Steve breathed, and then his mouth descended on you.

You curled to the tops of your toes to press into his kiss, whimpering at the warmth and softness of his lips. It felt exactly as you thought it would—anticipating their plushness every time he pressed his lips to your cheek over the years.

It lasted until the pair of you were breathless, and you heaved for air upon release. Steve brushed his thumbs over your bottom lip, smearing spit and hemming your airless grin.

He kissed you all night, and let his hands roam where they could not roam before. You fell asleep in his bed tucked under his arm, and when you woke you shared the refrozen pint of mint chip with one spoon.

And when Steve called his sister while you were showering to share the good news, all she did was laugh.

"Jesus, about fucking time."

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just friends

words: 3.1k

warnings: drinking

“hey rafey.” you call, bouncing into the room and giving him a kiss on the very top of his head.

rafe eyes kelce and topper immediately. “only she gets to call me that.” he says sternly, and they both nod, knowing he’s not kidding about that.

“what are you doing, y/n/n?” rafe asks as you start to rifle through the cabinets in his kitchen. 

“getting something to eat.” you say with a shrug, frowning when you can’t find any snacks you like.

“here.” rafe stands up from the stool he’s sitting on and pushes it back under the counter, rounding it to place a hand on your back and guide you to the pantry. he opens it and grabs your favorite bag of chips, knowing exactly what you prefer after 15 years of friendship.

“perfect!” you say happily, giving rafe a dazzling smile, pouring some in a bag and handing rafe the bag back to put away. you head out of the room, going to eat in front of the tv. rafe watches you leave before returning to his spot between topper and kelce.

“why aren’t you dating her again?” kelce asks, making rafe give him a slap on the arm.

“she’s my best friend.” rafe clarifies. you’re the one good thing he’s managed to keep in his life, a light in the darkness, his only source of joy some days when his dad is being particularly cruel or the pain of missing his mom gets too great.

--

“hey rafe, i was wondering if you were gonna miss family dinner.” your mom says, giving him a quick hug.

“and miss your cooking? never mrs y/l/n.” rafe smiles, always putting his charm on when he’s around your parents, despite them already loving him like he’s her own son.

“y/n is outside on the daybed, i think we’ll eat outside since it’s such a nice day.”

“that sounds perfect.” rafe heads towards the door before turning back to call, “let me know if you need any help!”

you look up from your phone when rafe comes out onto the patio, smiling at your best friend. “come hereeeee, rafey.” you say, dropping your phone and opening your arms to him.

rafe joins you on the daybed, resting his head on the pillow next to you as he lays down, pulling you into his hold. you grin as you snuggle into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the familiar heartbeat against your cheek.

you don’t even need to speak, simply relaxing and enjoying being around each other, rafe rubbing his hand up and down over your back, you tracing shapes on his torso.

your mom carries the dishes to the outdoor table, with the help of your dad who just got home from work. “do you think they’re finally going to realize that they’re in love with each other now that they’re older?” your mom asks with a sigh, wiping her hands on her apron as she watches the two of you.

“i’m sure they will soon.” your dad says, placing a hand on his wifes back, “on their own time.”

--

rafe grins as you walk down the stairs and into the dining room, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. your hair is a mess of curls, sticking out in every direction from your scalp.

“why-” you say, flopping down on the seat next to rafe, “do you look so awake right now?”

you thought you were getting up early when you dragged yourself out of bed at 10 am after a movie marathon with rafe that lead you far too late in the night.

“you know i always sleep best when you’re in the bed with me.” rafe says, offering you his bowl of cereal, knowing he can get more later, wanting you to eat as well. you accept it, talking about the movie as you finish off the honey nut cheerios.

“hey y/n.” wheezie greets you, also still in her pajamas, but you’re so comfortable with each other that she doesn’t mind, it’s nowhere near the first time.

“hey wheez.” you say with a smile.

“did you sleep over?” she asks.

“mhm!” you hum in response. “do you wanna do something today wheez? i can take you shopping if you want.” “oh yeah!” wheezie says. “let me get dressed.” “woah, woah, slow down! eat first then we can get some starbucks, okay? besides i still have to shower.” “okay, thanks y/n/n.” wheezie says, rushing out of the room.

“i can’t believe my little sister is stealing my best friend from me.” rafe pouts, crossing his arms.

“oh shush.” you say, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

--

“ugh!” you shout, watching the liquid fall down the front of your dress, soaking the material. your bottom lip quivers. you felt so beautiful tonight, your hair and makeup came out perfectly, but now the beer spilled down your front is ruining that completely.

“i’m so so sorry-” the man begins to apologize, but rafe is already hovering over you, giving the guy a look that his him almost shaking in fear.

“get. out.” rafe manages to say through gritted teeth. the man backs away, heading out of the party.

“rafe, you didn’t have to make him leave.” you say with a pout.

“but i did, he ruined your pretty dress, baby.” rafe hates the look on your face, would do anything to make you smile again, to make you feel better.

you sniffle at the mention of your dress. rafe completely forgets that he’s supposed to be hosting this party right now, taking your hand and tugging you inside of the house and up the stairs.

“come on, sarah wouldn’t mind if you wear something of hers.” rafe says, directing you into his sisters room. you know he’s right, you’re practically a big sister to sarah with how much you’re around. you’ll send her a text promising to give the dress back clean and take one out of her closet.

rafe waits outside the door as you change, taking the dirty dress and tossing it into the laundry room to deal with later. 

“i’m so sorry, bunny.” rafe says, using the nickname he gave you originally in third grade when you would come over just to bounce on his trampoline, until you begged your parents enough that they got one as well.

“it’s okay.” you say, shoving him away from you once you get downstairs, “now go get more beers, i’m sure we’re running low.” rafe nods, letting you boss him around, the one person who can tell him what to do and he’ll actually listen.

you head back out to the party, your friend coming up to you and handing you a drink. “thank youuu.” you coo, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

“you know, nobody believes you guys are just friends.” she says with a laugh.

“huh?” you ask, only half listening as your eyes scan the party.

“you and rafe, everyone thinks theres something more going on.” “oh my god.” you roll your eyes, sick of this conversation surrounding yours and rafes relationship. “we are just friends! just really good friends!” you say.

“uh huh.” your friend says, and you can tell that she absolutely does not believe you.

--

“rafey, i’m cold.” you say, tucking yourself underneath his arm, giving a tug at the sweatshirt covering his waist.

“i told you to put something warmer on!” rafe says, taking his eyes off the football game you’re watching to tug his sweatshirt off, hanging it over to you without a second thought. 

“you also said you liked my shirt, so you’re sending a lot of mixed signals here.” you say as you pull the sweatshirt over your head, making rafe chuckle.

you make sure he’s not going to get cold himself by wrapping your arms around him, keeping your body close together to share your heat. you breathe deeply into the collar of his sweatshirt, loving the comforting scent.

“this is exactly what i mean.” your friend says when she rejoins you after getting a pretzel from a snack vendors.

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“nobody believes you’re just friends.”

--

“i’ve literally-” your declaration is interrupted by a loud hiccup, “never been drunk in my life.” 

“me either.” rafe says, pulling you onto his lap, head lolling forward against the back of your neck, pressing his lips to the skin there that’s exposed by your bikini.

“you guys went ham.” topper laughs from the other side of the boat, also now just chilling on the sofas after the boat was brought back to the dock and most of the people got off, signaling the end of the party.

“i don’t think i can move.” you manage to slur out, turning to sit sideways on rafes lap so you can rest your head against his shoulder. 

“you’re more than welcome to sleep on the yacht.” topper says, “my parents won’t be back until monday.” “mmkay.” you say, tracing your fingers over rafes jaw. “thanks top.” rafe looks down at you, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes, one he usually hides from you. it makes you sit up straight, turning to fully face him now, straddling his lap.

“kiss me.” you say, taking his cheeks into your hand and squeezing them slightly, even as your head spins from the amount of alcohol you’ve taken in over the course of the evening.

“yeah.” rafe nods, pulling you tight against him, keeping his hands on your waist as your mouths connect in a sloppy, messy drunk kiss. 

“hey, hey.” topper is suddenly pulling you guys apart. “you’re way too drunk for kissing.” he’s thankful that he opted to drive the boat, meaning that he’s not as insanely drunk as you two are.

“n-no.” rafe says, trying to go to push topper away, but his arm falls before he can even raise it halfway up.

“let me kiss rafe, top, please, i love him so much.” you say, pushing your mouth back against rafes, 

“no, you’re best friends, remember!” topper says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off of rafes lap, ignoring your whines at being separated. “now, y/n, you come with me and you can take the main bedroom, rafe can sleep on the couch.” “noo, i want rafe, i want him.” you whine, but the minute your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light.

you and rafe don’t remember anything from after the party, and topper decides not to tell you about the drunken kiss, not wanting you to feel regret.

--

“what do you want?” rafe asks, knowing you don’t like to order and prefer him to do it.

your hands are firmly grasped together as your eyes look over the options. “umm, two scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough.” you say.

“in a bowl? with sprinkles?” rafe asks, knowing that’s usually what you prefer.

“mhm.” you nod, “thanks rafey.”

you let him order his own ice cream and then your own, swaying your hands between your bodies.

“you two are cute together, how long have you been together?” the woman behind the counter asks.

“oh no.” rafe laughs, handing over the cash for the ice cream. “we’re just friends.”

the womans eyes drop to your conjoined hands, and you realize how it looks, letting your hand open and drop away from rafes.

“suuure.” the woman nods, stepping away from the counter to prepare your ice cream.

--

you watch in silent anger as rafe dances with the girl, whose name you think is stephanie but you can’t be sure.

“just go over there, he’s just having fun with her, he only has eyes for you.” topper says, seeing the sad look on your face.

“what? no.” you shake your head, forcing a laugh out. “i’m fine.” “you certainly don’t look fine. you look heartbroken.” topper says.

“come on, you know he’s my best friend.” you say, forcing your eyes away from the dance floor to look at topper.

“dance with me then.” topper stands up, offering you his hand. “just for fun, i know you don’t have feelings for me.” 

you smile at your friend, often forgetting that while you and rafe are extremely close and have been for years, that topper was also there with you for a lot of the time.

“okay.” you place your hand in his, letting him pull you off your seat and towards the edge of where everyone is dancing. you move stiffly at first, unused to the feeling of someone other than rafe touching you, but eventually you get into the rhythm, laughing as topper twirls you around.

you’re not even really dancing to the beat of the song, just letting topper move you as he pleases. you let yourself get lost under the colorful lights, your hands coming up to make movements in the air as toppers hands grip your waist, moving his body behind yours.

you close your eyes and grind your hips back against his, until you’re suddenly pulled away, making your eyes snap open.

“rafe!” you shout as rafe holds you against his body, shoving topper away from you. “what are you doing?” 

“it’s fine, y/n.” topper says, knowing the look of jealousy in rafes eyes.

“no, it’s not fine.” you cross your arms, stepping away from rafe. “don’t be mean to top, you can’t get upset that he’s dancing with me when you’re off with another girl.” you turn and walk away from rafe, knowing he’s on your heels as you head up to his room.

“y/n!” he shouts, slamming the door shut behind you. 

“no, it’s not fair.” you say, flopping down on his bed that you practically treat like your own. “it’s not fair that you get to go have fun, hook up with girls, but the second i even dance with our friend, you pull me away?”

rafe sits down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. “you’re right.” 

“i am?” you ask, surprised that rafe conceded so quickly. 

“it’s not fair that i get jealous but don’t expect you to be.” rafe moves so he’s laying down next to you, face to face. 

“there’s nothing to be jealous of anyways, rafe.” you say, placing your hand on his face, stroking your fingers over the smooth plans of his cheek. “i was just having fun with top, he was making me feel better because i was upset watching you with a different girl.” rafe nods, pulling you in tight to his body. you sigh softly at being in his hold, knowing you’re the one at the end of the day who gets to be with him.

“i love you.” rafe suddenly says. he’s said it before, a million times, but you can tell that this time is different.

“rafe-” 

“no, i love you. let me say it.” rafe says, opening his mouth to talk more but your ears seem to stop working, tuning him out as your mind starts to race. years of friendship, years of being by each other's side.

“i-i…” you shake your head, jumping out of bed and running down the stairs, out of the house.

--

“it’s been an entire week since you’ve seen rafe, why don’t i call him and have him come over?” your mom asks, rubbing your head as you pull the covers up even further. you have barely gotten out of bed since rafes confession, ignoring all the times he’s texted and called you.

“mom, he’s the problem.” you groan. “i don’t want to see him.” “mmm.” your mom hums.

“please, just let me sleep. i’m tired.” you say. you haven’t been able to sleep properly, like your body knows that something is wrong, that the balance is off.

“okay, honey.” your mom drops a kiss to your forehead, closing the door behind her when she leaves.

--

“he’s never missed a family dinner.” you hear your dad whisper to your mom.

“i didn’t invite him.” you say, making them jump, not realizing that you were listening from your seat in the dining room.

“he doesn’t need an invitation.” your mom says, returning to stirring the pot.

“mom, stop-” you pause when you hear a knock at your door. a familiar knock, a pattern you recognize instantly. 

your mom gives you a pointed look. “you let him in or i do.”

your hands are shaking as you head toward the front door, opening it to reveal rafe standing there, hands in his pockets. “i’m sorry.” rafe says, eyes on the ground. “i shouldn’t have said anything.” you step out onto the porch, closing the door behind you so your parents can’t eavesdrop. “aren’t you scared?” you ask, making rafe blink up at you.

“aren’t you scared that we might not work? we’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. what if we throw all of that away be-because we try- i don’t know rafe!”

“shh.” rafe says, taking your face in his hands. “you’re overthinking it baby.”

you shake your head in confusion, trying to turn away, but rafe pushes you against the wall, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “i love you. and you love me, i know it.” 

your traitorous eyes drop to his lips, how close they are to your own. “i do love you.” you whisper, and that’s all rafe needs to hear as he presses your lips together. you melt into the kiss, letting rafe deepen it, his hands keeping your head in place while yours clutch at his shirt, not letting him pull away, not after wanting this for so long.

“i love you.” rafe whispers against your lips, giving you another kiss.

“i love you too.” you say with a giggle, letting rafe lift you and spin you in a circle.

“oh my god, wait until your parents find out.” rafe opens the door, tugging you inside. you follow him happily, head dizzy with love. 

“rafe!” your mom says happily, both of your parents eyes looking at the way you’re wrapped around each other.

instead of speaking, rafe drops his head and presses his lips against yours, to the backdrop of your parents cheers.

--

“oh topper.” you sing as you skip to sit between him and rafe. 

“hey, y/n.” he says, giving you a friendly smile.

“i have something to tell you.” you say, linking your hand with rafe. topper looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to speak. you just raised your joined hands with rafe and give it a shake, hoping he gets the message.

“what?” topper asks.

you laugh, obviously holding hands too much with rafe before you starting dating that it’s nothing telling to topper, so you turn and bring your knee over to the other side of rafes lap, smashing your lips together in a kiss. you pull away after a second to look at topper, “oh, thank god you’re not drunk this time.” he says, pressing a hand against his chest.

“wait, what?” you are rafe say in unison.

[reiderwriter]

🌞 Just Hanging Out 🌞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

Warnings: reader is a tease, shy Spencer, sexual arousal (M and F) no physical smut (god I wish we still used the citrus system).

A/N: Here's my second entry to @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge! Thanks to everyone who helped my pick the plot for this one :) I was also intending for this to be a reply to one of my requests for more BAU reader, but unfortunately tumblr deleted that request so 🤡 I'm tagging the account below anyways, and I have three more BAU reader fics coming in the next two weeks-ish, including my new series That's What You Get, so I hope you like this fic and be sure to look out for the others! Enjoy~

Here's my masterlist and my requests are open!

It was mid-August, and thankfully, the serial killers of America had given up crime for one week of the year to allow you to enjoy some much needed vacation time. The entire team had been put on annual leave, and you were determined to enjoy it to the absolute capacity of your ability.

Despite being together year-round, you actually enjoyed the company of your coworkers, so when Rossi announced he was planning a summer barbeque at his place to kick off your vacation time, you were ecstatic. If Rossi’s barbecuing skills were anything like his pasta making skills, you were expecting to eat yourself into a food coma and not wake up for the next seven days.

“Not a single one of you will touch this grill, stand within a 1 foot radius of this grill or even dare to look at this grill, so help me God, are we understood?” Rossi announced as soon as you arrived, the last of the BAU team to gather in his self-proclaimed mansion. The gardens were beautiful, and the kids were already running riot on the slip and slide that he had set up for them, screaming and giggling in delight.

“Trust me, you’re not getting me near that thing today, Rossi,” you laugh as you pour yourself a glass of wine from the refreshments table. “Last time I was anywhere near a grill I almost died.”

“I don’t remember encountering any unsubs who used grills as their weapon of choice,” JJ laughed at you as she held out her own glass and you gladly filled it for her.

“That’s because it wasn’t on a case, it was a family barbeque when I was 17 and my grandfather thought I should learn some ‘practical skills,’” you shot a grin at her as she rolled her eyes at you and walked away.

You grabbed your glass and looked for somewhere to perch yourself while you took in the sun. Morgan and Prentiss had already grabbed the two sun-loungers on the patio and were both sitting shirtless (with a bikini top on in Prentiss’s case) taking in as much sun as they could. Garcia was similarly sprawled on the deck sofa, and JJ joined her their after grabbing her refreshment, Will stood by the edge of the deck watching over the kids. Hotch had the amazing foresight to bring his own camping chair, and was set up similarly with one eye on Jack and the other on a book in his hand.

And just where you were expecting him, Spencer Reid was stood awkwardly at the edge of the house, in the only spot of shade he could find, leaning slightly against the door, and squinting into the sun.

“Rossi, you got any other chairs I can grab for me and Reid?” you called out to your host.

“There should be some over by the shed, they might need a bit of a dusting down though.”

“Come on pretty boy, you can’t just be standing all day, you’re going to make me feel tired just watching you,” you laughed up at him and caught the flush of his cheeks as he finally caught that you meant him to follow you.

“I’m really fine here over in the shade, I don’t do too great in the sun, anyways. More of an autumnal person, really…”

“I’d feel bad seeing you stand all day, and besides, what if I need a big, strong man to help me carry my chair over?” As he gaped his mouth open and closed looking for a retort, you felt the small flash of victory spread warm your chest. It wasn’t that you liked messing with Reid, it’s that he was an easy target and actually you loved it.

Having joined the team only the year prior, you’d quickly found the genius incredibly endearing, loving to listen to his little monologues about whatever topic had popped into his head that day, often earning groans from your other colleagues as you encouraged him to keep going.

You’d discovered your love of making him squirm a few months into the job, when you had to interrogate a submissive partner of an unsub together. After theorising that the submissive personality had a thing for women who looked like you, especially ones that were pretty dominant and controlling, you’d decided to give him what he wanted. You’d popped the top button, walked into the room and given him your best shot before having to re-strategize.

“What if we send Reid in there with her?” Morgan was the one to suggest, “Have him act a bit touchy, show him something he’s missing out on. We already tried giving him what he wanted, let’s see how he reacts to someone he doesn’t view as a threat getting everything he thinks he’s entitled to.”

It was a good guess, and it worked. You’d walked into the room, and let Reid start asking the questions. He’d gently laid a hand on your thigh, just high enough for the suspect to notice, and you’d done nothing but quietly whisper directly into his ear, watching the entire time to see how the man in front of you would react. He’d cracked in ten minutes and started spewing misogynistic drivel, so angry that he accidentally confessed to the crime and gave away his partner’s location.

It seemed Reid had cracked just a bit too. He’d avoided eye-contact with you for an entire week after that, and whenever he talked to you in that time, it was like his brain short-circuited. You’d bought a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to his knees with a few whispers in his ear, and you loved the rush of power you felt remembering it. The memory of his strong hand on your thigh did nothing to quell your growing attraction towards the man.

“If you wanted someone big and strong, you should’ve asked Morgan,” Reid snapped you out of your thoughts as he diligently followed you in the direction Rossi had pointed. It was a pretty secluded spot in the garden, a little bit away from the action and you were glad to be out of earshot so you could begin your teasing of the Good Doctor.

“I’m sure you’re big and strong in certain places, Spencer,” you smiled at him, and began looking at the chairs.

You spotted it in the corner, then, the perfect tool for your torment. It seemed relatively new, barely used but still pretty sturdy, and you knew this was it.

“Hey, Rossi, what about this hammock in the corner, can I set this up, too?” you shouted back over to the group and grinned up at Reid.

“Do you have a death wish? Because if so, go ahead and tangle with that devil.” Rossi shouted back, not even looking up from the miriad of sausages and burgers he was working on.

“That sounds like a challenge to me, Doc.” You say and you start pulling it out into the sunlight, Reid steps behind you sighing in defeat. He knew that once you had your mind set on something, you were pretty stubborn about completing it.

“Okay, can you give me a boost?” The bed of the hammock fell to about your chest height, and whilst you knew you were probably able to climb in by yourself, you were wearing a particularly short sundress, and as much as you teased Reid, you didn’t exactly want to give the rest of your team and their families an eyeful.

“You want me to try to lift you into this thing?” Reid squeaked out, a look of confusion passing over his features.

“Yeah, just grab my hips and give me a boost and I’ll swing my legs over and straddle it. Then we can see what’s it's like.” He moved cautiously up behind you, letting his hands graze your waist.

“Reid, you’re going to have to hold me a bit tighter than that if we’re actually going to get anywhere.” You placed your hands over his and pushed his grip down stronger; you could practically hear him gulp from behind you. He pushed you up, and you almost had it, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself up and into it.

After a few attempts, you realised it wasn’t going to work. Reluctantly pulling yourself out of Reid’s grip, you turned to face him.

“New plan, you get in first and pull me up.”

“What? I don’t want to go anywhere near that thing, didn’t you hear what Rossi said?”

“Come on Reid, just this once, for me? We have to try at least!” you pouted up at him now with pleading eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t have to resort to batting your eyelashes at him to get him to agree.

“One attempt, and then I’m grabbing a normal chair and leaving, okay?” He negotiated, but you didn’t care and excitedly wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug.

“Yay, thank you! I love you, Reid, you know that?” you pulled back slightly to deliver that last line, your arms still around his neck, watching the redness spread upto his cheeks.

He mumbled a quick whatever and pulled away to begin his attempts.

Perhaps it was his few extra inches of height or spindly frame, but Reid managed to climb up quite easily, not even rocking the hammock that much in his ascent.

He sat up pretty steadily, and you lifted your arms to him, and that’s when it all started going wrong. You’re combined weight wasn’t enough to break the hammock, but it was enough to set it off into an unsteady rocking that made your stomach lurch slightly. You swung your leg as best you could over Reid’s, already in the hammock, and as soon as you found some purchase there, he lowered one hand to pull your lower body up as well.

It was just unfortunate that the place his hand landed was directly over your ass, and you let out a sharp gasp as he grabbed it tightly and hauled you up to sit directly over him, chest to chest, practically straddling his entire body in the cramped space of the hammock bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I meant to grab your hip.” He tried to let go of you and push his hands up where you could see them, but the sudden movement made the hammock lurch dangerously so you snapped your hand over his and forced them back to their previous position.

“No sudden movements, Spencer, I don’t particularly want to be the butt of all jokes for the next year if we fall out of this thing.” You panicked slightly and squirmed a little in your position, trying to explore your range of movement.

“How are we going to get out of this if we can’t move?” he shot back at you, a look of mild discomfort on his face, and an I-told-you-so begging to escape his lips.

“If you just give me a minute to explore our options, maybe I would be able to figure that out.”

“If you keep squirming like that we’re going to have more problems than just how to get down,” he huffed under his breath, but he was so close that it was impossible for you to miss it.

It was your turn to blush now, as you caught his insinuation. With his hand firmly on your ass, and your legs either side of his, you could feel the entire length of his body below you. Each squirm you made the dampness between your legs pool a little bit more and then you in-turn squirmed even more in a vicious cycle.

After a few minutes, there was no denying that the thing prodding your core was Spencer’s sizable… appendage.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, it’s just a natural reaction,” he groaned out from below you when he realised you could feel it too, and you’d never heard anything so beautiful as the moans he was accidentally vocalising.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry for being so stubborn about this. Let me see if I can figure something else out,” you cautiously slid your hands up his chest, and he screwed his eyes shut. Pushing against his shoulders, you slowly pulled yourself up to a seated position, doing your best to not rock the hammock too much. The new position did nothing to dampen the friction the two of you were feeling, and you knew that you were a few seconds away from a point of no return. Your hips bucked slightly against him against your will, and you really hoped he hadn’t noticed that was totally not to the benefit of you getting out of the hammock.

You looked down to the ground so you could see how far the descent would be, and if you’d have to call for backup anytime soon. Luckily you thought you’d be able to make it if you just swung your legs over the side and got out as quickly as possible, but fate had other plans.

“Spencer, Y/N what are you two doing over here?” came Emily’s voice from behind you. Spencer’s eyes shot open and he pulled his head up slightly to look at her. However, his movement had rocked the hammock a little bit harder than before, so he had to grab your hip to steady the two of you, pushing you further down into him. You did your best to stifle the moan, biting down hard on your tongue as you did so.

“Oh you know, just hanging out,” he managed to get out in reply, his voice notably higher than it usually was.

“You sure you guys don’t need any help? That doesn’t look like the safest of chairs.” Emily’s questioning stare never lifted and you knew that if she caught wind of what was actually going on, you wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye for an entire year. You couldn’t accept the help.

“Yeah, we were just going to climb down in a second, we’re just checking to see how… sturdy it is right now.”

“Sturdy. Right. Well, Rossi said the food would be ready to start serving in a few minutes and asked me to call you guys over.”

“We’ll be right there, thanks Emily.” You smiled at her and she made to walk away, a suspicious look still on her face.

“What do you mean we’ll be right there, I can’t go over there like this!” Spencer whisper yelled into your ears.

“What else was I supposed to say to get her to go away,” you whisper yelled back. You ran a free hand through your hair, and shifted again, your legs beginning to cramp up a little in the awkward position.

“Okay you get down, I’ll make a break for the bathroom, say all this moving around made me need to pee or something, and then we meet up again on the patio and pretend this never happened?” he said and you nodded quickly.

You began to lift your body weight up and remove your legs from the tangle you were stuck in, and that’s when the hammock reared it’s ugly head for the final time. As you lifted your leg slowly, you accidedntally got your foot stuck in the side of the fabric, and pinned there but still moving, the hammock toppled and spat both of you out unceremoniously.

Reid landed ontop of you with a hard thud. You let out a sweet curse, just as Reid pushed his body weight onto his hands, taking some of the pressure off of you after the fall. You stared up into his eyes as you realised you’d found yourself in yet another compromising situation and you deepeded to a scarlet red as you realised your sundress had blown up completely in your descent, and he was now neatly nestled in between your legs, with your damp underwear on display for him.

Looking down at you, he took a beat too long to react, and you squirmed under his gaze, feeling appropriately trapped, before he sprung up and offered you a hand up.

You took his hand and rearranged your dress, thankful that the smell of the food had distracted everyone from your embarrassing fall.

“Okay, we’re out.” You were flustered and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yep, that was certainly one way to do it,” Reid replied, as you avoided his gaze. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and he made to do so similarly, trying his best to rearrange himself so the bulge in his pants wasn’t so noticeable.

“You should get to the bathroom.”

“You should get to the food.” He retorted and you finally made to move, but stopped yourself turning around quickly to face the man again.

“Before I go,” you said and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss into his mouth, feeling as giddy as a teenager braving her first kiss. You turned away just as fast and made your way back to the party, leaving a flustered and spluttering Reid behind as you made a beeline for the food.

“So, what’d you think of the hammock?” Rossi asked you as you began loading your plate up. You put on your best poker face and begged noone had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“You were right. That thing is dangerous,” was your only response, and you retreated into the corner to finish your food. You sat there waiting eagerly for Reid to return, not just so you could be in his presence again and see how he was reacting to your kiss, but also so you could get the image of him dealing with his situation out of your mind.

It seemed that being a tease and working him up hadn’t quite ended so well for you that day.

You blamed the hammock.

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[urmomschocolatemilk]

Dad!price

I wrote this for a request and then scrapped it. My inbox is open for ghost headcanons as of now & part four of the Price series is underway

Prices second daughter was ten years old, she was, in his opinion, the most adventurous of all his daughters. She would consistently drag her sisters out to play in the mud, challenge them at the monkey bars when they’d go to the park and hopped around sports.  

It was spring now. The mornings were warm and dewy, bustling with calm life and that was newly reawakened by early morning light. His little girl had always been an early morning riser, even on the weekends so it was no surprise when she sprung up from the sofa where she had quietly been watching wild crats one morning and marched her way into the kitchen where Price was drinking a cup of Coffee.  

“Dad,” she started, and Price hummed in acknowledgment looking down at the girl, “can we go on a bike ride?” Her other sisters were still asleep and her mother was just getting out of bed, it was quiet early for a bike ride. Price set down his hot mug, and turned his wrist so he could see the time on his watch.  

“And where would you want to go at this time-of-day little lady?” Price asked. His daughter paused for a moment and then she grinned as she was struck with an idea.  

“We can go get ice-cream.” She offered, looking quite pleased with her proposition. 

Price replied with a reminder, “I don't think the shops are open at this hour sweetheart.” His daughter pouted.  

“Then we can just ride around,” she said, “pleaseee.” she begged, looking up at her father with mock puppy dog eyes. Price chuckled lightly, reaching out to pinch her cheek. She flinched and pulled away.  

“Go change,” he instructed her, and she grinned. Turning on her heel and racing out of the kitchen to her room. Price finished his coffee, and washed the mug, before leaving the kitchen to go change as well. When he exited his room, his daughter was standing by the door waiting impatiently for him. 

“You’re just as slow as my sisters.” she complained as he approached her.  

“I didn't realize we were in a rush,” he retorted lightheartedly. 

“I am.” she responded. Price chuckled but didn't respond, slipping on his shoes and pocketing the keys to their flat.  

“You got your helmet?” Price asked, and she held it up with a wordless nod. He opened the door, letting her walk in-front of him. “Lead the way little lady.”  

The two biked around the block for about 30 minutes, before Price decided an early morning treat wouldn't hurt and took them to get lemonades at their favorite breakfast place. They sat outside, on the restaurant patio sipping at the cold drinks.  

“What’s your favorite season?” Price asked her as she took another cheery sip of her lemonade. 

His daughter answered surely, “probably spring.” 

“Why do you like Spring?” The girl grinned, kicking her feet under the table as she watched the a butterfly flutter by,  

“Because of the mornings.”  

[reveluving]

If requests are still open I have one... Graves is having sex with his wife, and Price is watching them and he touch himself 😈 And his wife notice that Price is there but she can't say it to Graves because he makes her moan so much with his dick buried into her.

Are you TRYING TO KILL ME??? BECAUSE THANK YOU?? FAWK. 💀

Includes: wall s~mut (minors DNI!), soft (& slighly mean)!graves, mentions of nude polaroids, voyeurism & exhibitionism, licking, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v)

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Being invited for dinner by the Phillip Graves was not on their bingo card.

Not that they didn’t like him, he was a good sport, almost like a brother, as evidenced by the good-humoured banter he has with them, especially with Johnny or Alejandro. But if he didn’t always go “can’t wait to see m’wife after this shit ends” every time they work together, then they would’ve assumed he was a casual hookup kind of guy.

So to be proven wrong when he took a polaroid of you—you hugging Kai, who was sulking at the doorway as it rained—out of his pocket, along with the silicone wedding band around his finger, well, it was safe to say they were pretty surprised. 

The SFW polaroid, of course, not the other ones.

Those were for his eyes only.

The invitees included the 141, then Laswell, along with Alejandro and Rudy, who were in town for work. God bless Graves for being ahead of them with the accommodations, not far from his house.

And as their day offs rolled around, you, on the other hand, got to work.

As usual, you did an amazing job with the food, from the proteins that he’ll help you cook once the party starts, down to the endless amounts of sides to choose from—the kinds that were both filling and bursting with flavour, an instant approval from the Southern blood in him. Somewhat enough to ease your worries about your hard work not being enough.

Meeting you had them wondering how a man like Graves managed to put a ring on a sweetheart like you. But the heart eyes they would catch in his eyes every time you were close by told them everything they needed to know about just how much he cares about you.

Of course, none of you could ever forget Kai, already rushing over to you at the front door when he thought he was going to go for a walk, only to perk up even more at the sight of more people.

More people meant more pets!

But back to the two of you; seeing you work together, balancing, with Graves’ more outgoing personality and you being soft-spoken yet perceptive, especially with his friends’ plates, it was all so… homey. No worries, no strategies, just smiles and laughs and gossip. 

After dinner, just as Graves expected, the team was astounded by your backyard patio—the perks of being married to a florist. The comfortable outdoor sofa and the small yet charming garden arrangement; everything well taken care of, plus the string lights added to the comfortable aesthetic feel, especially by nightfall. 

It took little effort to keep the conversation rolling, in addition to the snacks you had prepared with the beers. 

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered before kissing his cheek hastily, much to his amusement. You took your leave, only to scurry away at the door when he winked at you, uncaring at the thought of his friends catching his displays of affection.

But seeing his girl getting along with his friends so well? Her warm smile? Her cute little attempt to hide her laugh behind her hand? Putting her heart and soul into her cooking and her hospitality in general, despite your bashfulness?

Well, it was only fair to say thank you.

Graves-style.

Not even ten minutes after you entered the house, he stood up.

“I’m gonna check on the missus for a bit,” He waved his hand at them without looking as he headed to the sliding door, “You guys hang ‘round.”

And then, Price felt the need to stand on his feet, but not before scratching behind Kai’s ears one last time before the pooch moved to Gaz for more pets.

Price excused himself, saying he needed to splash his face a bit. He’s not drunk, far from it, but it has been a while since he’s had a relaxing time like this. And like the rest of the crew, he was not willing to miss out on the coziness of your home.

But the surprises never stopped when he heard a squeak, your voice unmistakable, just before he could turn the corner, where the kitchen, then the guest bathroom were. 

He didn’t dare to take a look at first.

“Phil!” He heard you yelp, followed by a drawn-out moan that you were trying to suppress in your husband’s shoulder. 

But fuck, your voice was so tantalizing.

Price held his fist against his mouth with his eyes closed, unsure if he was trying to drown out the sounds or put more focus on it. Then, his ears perked up at the squelching in between the fast-paced pistoning of Graves’ fingers in and out of your pussy.

The captain’s morality began to chip away, going just as insane as his friend when he chuckled evilly in your ear.

“Gettin’ a lil’ shy, pretty girl?” He didn’t make it any easier for you when he licked a large stripe up your throat, “S’alright, they’re just enjoyin’ themselves back there. ‘S just you and me.” 

You were already whining, albeit muffled as you bit your bottom lip as he held you up against the wall. With the way he was slapping your entrance, watching you with a knowing smirk, you knew he wasn’t going to hold back.

And as embarrassing as it was for Price to admit, he was thankful for it. Pumping his cock in his hand, following the same rhythm as the wet slaps of your hips. Your moans were just as hypnotic, short gasps and mewls every time Graves thrust back into you deeply. His tongue licked up the thin perspiration gathering on your exposed skin. 

Price was precise with his peeking, only doing so whenever he heard your muffled voice—when he was certain you were resting your head against his shoulder or even kissing him.

Those pretty lips.

But in the midst of his pleasure, he wasn’t careful enough, cursing under his breath while holding his firm grip on the tip of his cock when he heard you gasp, no doubt catching sight of him when he hid back behind the wall.

And yet, his feet were too heavy to move. Glued in his spot.

Praying to see more of you. Hear more of you.

Literally anything more.

“P–Phil,” Your nails massaged across your husband’s scalp, a silent plea for him to listen.

But you were too cockdrunk to even think about stopping him, let alone attempt to say a single word.

“Hm?” He hummed against the crook of your neck nonchalantly, slowing down his pace, but bottoming out just as deep to hear to whine, “Want me t’stop, baby?”

No. No no no. 

He couldn’t hear you, not with your incoherent babbling, but if you thought he didn’t understand what you were trying to say, oh, you couldn’t be any more wrong.

He wasn’t blind to the lingering looks some of the men gave you, not especially the captain’s. And though he had always known Price as ‘old-fashioned’ with his manners, he’d be stupid enough to think his courteousness with you didn’t mean anything more. 

But who could blame him? You were one in a million.

And when he, too, caught sight of the familiar figure before it hid behind the wall, he knew his suspicions were correct. 

And unless you told him to stop, to use your safeword, he wouldn’t even dream about pulling out. Not until he gets to feel it clench and quiver against him. To see your cum, both yours and his, dripping, even after he’s pulled your panties back up.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” He held your chin, a mix between a coo and a sneer. He snapped his hips once again, drawing a sputter out of you, “Do you want me t’stop?”

His smirk grew when your eyes darted sideways, knowing Price was still there, watching you being unravelled and ruined, then humming in delight when you finally answered.

“No.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[trickphotography2]

Wanna Dance with Somebody

When his girlfriend of three months ditches a night at the Hard Deck after a rough day, Bradley knows just what to do to cheer her up.

Word Count: 1.8K

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Off work yet?

Not yet. I have so much left to do in this last hour and a half.

Okay. Let me know when you’re on the way, and I’ll have your drink waiting.

Bradley glanced at his phone again to see if there was any update, only to see his last message left on read two hours later. Excusing himself from the pool table, he stepped out onto the patio of the Hard Deck. 

You answered on the third ring. “Hey,” you said, exhaustion coloring your voice. 

“Hey babe, just wanted to check where you were.” There was silence for a long moment before you sighed.

“Would…would you mind if I skipped out tonight? It’s been a shit day, and I’m exhausted.” 

“Yeah,” he frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Just a lot. I still have about an hour of work before I can log off for the night. And some of the shit is going to be Monday’s problem.” 

“Anything I can do?”

“No. As much as I appreciate it, no.” He could hear the smile in your tired voice. “Have a drink for me, tell everyone I said hi, and text me when you get home?” 

“Will do, babe. Lo…lock up, alright?”

“Always do,” you replied, confused by his strange request. “Night.”

“Night.” 

An hour and a half later, you shut down your computer and stowed it in your work bag, shoving that into the back of your closet. After changing into a pair of sweatpants and pulling on the wearable cat blanket that fell to your knees - Bradley had gotten it in a White Elephant Christmas exchange and shoved it into his closet, quickly giving it to you when you spied it the first time he made you dinner at his house and loved it - you shuffled toward the kitchen. Lunch had been a quick affair - a bag of chips and a mug of tea - since it had been a busy day. It was a busy week, to be honest. This time of year was always a shit show: people came out of the woodwork asking for help, projects that you pushed off were due, and new work started to pile up. It wasn’t until 3:00PM that you’d finished the stuff from yesterday and switched to today’s tasks. 

You zoned out while watching the microwave heat up leftover pizza from the weekend and contemplated stress crying in the shower. A quick, cathartic cry would be a good kick-off to the weekend, but that would also require the effort of actually getting into the shower. Eating seemed like a monumental task, so showering would be even worse. 

Beeping interrupted your musing, and you quickly silenced the microwave. The pizza was only lukewarm, but you ate it anyway. An open bottle of wine caught your eye when you refilled your water bottle, and you retrieved a wine glass from the cabinet. Thankfully, it was still carbonated after you’d shoved it onto the door shelf and jammed the stopper against the upper shelf. Pouring yourself a healthy measure, you retreated to the couch, tugging the blanket hood over your head. 

With the lights off, you grabbed your phone and mindlessly scrolled social media while lying on the couch. A few videos made you chuckle, and you sent them to your friends. The sun had long set, but you had no motivation to turn on any of the lights in your home. 

“Hey.”

“Fuck!” You shouted, jolting upright and sloshing the wine balanced beside you. The overhead living room light flicked on to reveal a smirking Bradley standing in the doorway. 

“You alright?” He asked, trying to school his expression as you wiped wine from your hoodie, blinking at the sudden brightness. 

“What are you doing here?” You demanded, glaring up at him. His mustache twitched as though he was trying not to grin - he had never seen you in “full gremlin mode,” as you called these nights, in the three months you’d been dating. 

“Just coming to check on you and bring you this,” Bradley said, holding up a bottle of your favorite wine. Your eyes darted between it and his face, feeling your anger fade. 

“Babe,” you groaned, setting your wine glass on the floor and pulling the hood down to cover your face as tears pricked your eyes. “You didn’t need to do that.” The carpet muffled his footsteps as he neared. Still, you heard the soft ‘thunk’ of the bottle and the metallic clanking of the spare key given to him to check your apartment when you went out of town for a conference hitting the coffee table before he gently pushed the fabric from your eyes. 

“Bad day or long one?”

“A bit of both,” you shrugged. “This week’s been…” He nodded, thinking about what you’d shared over the last few days. Glancing at your wine glass, he grabbed the bottle by the neck and removed the foil.

“Sounds like you need something to make you feel better, baby.”

“Sex?” Throwing his head back laughing, Bradley twisted the wire cage keeping the cork in place.

“We can get to that. I was thinking about something else, though.” A loud ‘pop’ sounded as he pulled the cork from the bottle, retrieved your glass from the floor, and filled it before handing it back to you. Once the bottle was back on the table, he pulled out his phone and connected it to your Bluetooth speakers. “Ready?”

“For what?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The speaker started to play a familiar tune, followed by clapping. Bradley held out a hand to you, hips beginning to sway.  “Clock strikes upon the hour,” he crooned with Whitney Houston, “and the sun begins to fade.” 

Tossing your head back into the couch arm, you groaned as he sang along to I Wanna Dance with Somebody. When you didn’t take his hand, he playfully rolled his eyes, plucked his aviators from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, and put them to the tip of his nose. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to moonwalk on the carpet, hands closing around the unbuttoned sides of his shirt. 

His hips swung, fingers snapping while he danced and spun across your living room, fist raised to sing into an invisible microphone. Biting your lip against laughing, you watched him shake his ass while sliding the shirt down his arms, glancing over his shoulder at you in a pantomime of strip tease. While Bradley wasn’t the best dancer, he was certainly enthusiastic. Once free from his shirt, he tossed it at you, moving around your living room and singing loudly. “Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody!” He wiggled an eyebrow at you, which was what made you crack. 

Laughing, you reached behind your head to turn on the floor lamp before pushing to your feet and going to turn off the overhead light. In the dim lighting, you watched him hold out a hand for you. 

As soon as your finger slid over his, he tugged, lifting his arm to spin you under it and then back again. His hand on your waist was a gentle pressure, muffled by the thick fabric, and you couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you as he held you tightly and shimmied, crouching and hiding his grimace when his knees popped. On his way back up, his belt buckle caught on the fabric of your hoodie, tugging it upward. 

Bradley towered over you, smiling as he serenaded and swayed in a rhythm too slow for the song. “I been in love and lost my senses, spinning through the town,” he crooned. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the sincerity shining in his eyes at those words. 

“Sooner or later, the fever ends, and I wind up feeling down,” you joined in. “I need a man who'll take the chance on a love that burns hot enough to last. So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls - ”

Grinning, Bradley twirled you, tugging so you fell into him when the chorus picked up. His lips grazed your forehead, mustache tickling your temple as he rasped, “Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me.” 

Heart in your throat, you forced yourself to keep smiling as you danced. He was just singing the lyrics. Three months was too early to drop the ‘L’ word. When you pulled away, he caught your hands and spun you, crossing his arms over your front as your back pressed against his chest. His hold was a loose cage you had no desire to escape.

The song played as you swayed, head tipped back to rest on Bradley’s shoulder. The oversized hoodie, combined with the heat Bradley always threw, was getting to be overwhelming, but nothing could have made you move at that moment. 

His hand lifted to gently stroke your jaw, light pressure encouraging your chin up so he could kiss you. The song faded, but you barely paid attention as he licked into your mouth. Your hand lifted to trace the scars on his cheek before cupping around the back of his neck, fingers curling hair that was getting tiptoeing the edge of being out of regulation. 

There was a brief silence as the song ended before his playlist continued. “I need love, love, ooh, to ease my mind. And I need to find time, someone to call mine. My Mama said, ‘You can’t hurry love. No, you’ll just have to wait,” Phil Collins sang. Bradley chuckled against your lips. 

“What’s so funny, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you asked, attempting to turn in his hold, but his tight grip stopped you. 

“Nothin’,” he replied, nipping your lower lip. “How’d you feel about grabbing your wine and hitting the shower, honey?” 

“I could go for shower wine.” 

The only crying you did in the shower was when Bradley went to his knees, your leg over his shoulder as he took you apart with his fingers and tongue. His eyes were soft as he washed your hair, taking the time to massage the tension from your neck and shoulders. His lips crashed into yours as you stroked his cock, feeling his hot spend against your stomach until he backed you under the shower spray to clean you off.

Later, he tucked you into bed and curled up behind you, drawing lazy circles on your stomach. The repetitive motion, coupled with his soft breathing, was lulling you into a trance. You hovered there, in that liminal space between awake and sleep. 

Bradley’s fingers paused, and he whispered your name. You felt the soft press of his lips against your shoulder, countering the gentle scratch of his mustache when you didn’t respond. “Love you, honey,” he whispered against your skin so softly you were sure you dreamt it.

“Love,” you mumbled, feeling Bradley’s arm tighten around you as you slipped over the edge into slumber.

Three months was too early to say you loved someone. 

But it wasn’t too early to dream it. 

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

Author's Note: Started thinking about this fic after a rough day at work and then it got lost in my drafts folder. Needed a bit of a pick-me-up recently, so I revisited this fic. Thanks for reading!

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out this form.

Taglist: @shanimallina87; @roosterforme

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just Friends?

Eddie is your older, sexy next door neighbour. You're instantly smitten with him but with the countless women that you see leave his trailer dreamy eyed and lovestruck, you don't have a chance with him? You're just his friend right?

Warnings; Older Eddie, minors shoo, fluff, jealous Eddie. Friends to lovers, Comfort, Pet loss (anon who sent me the request to write about this, I'm sending you all the hugs and positive vibes in the world ❤️)

💌🎀❤️

Eddie Munson is your older, gorgeous neighbour and you're pretty sure he could never be interested in you. He dated beautiful women all the time, you saw when they left his trailer dreamy eyed and already hooked on him.

You'd hear the giggles and their moans every night while you sat on your patio and tried to ignore the noises, ignoring the tightness coiling in your gut and the envy you felt.

How you wished that it was you that held Eddie's attention. The two of you did talk a lot and you had been over to his for a beer quite a few times but he wasn't interested in you romantically.

He had been such a good friend to you since the two of you met. When you first moved here, about six months into your stay your sweet kitty had passed away.

She had hidden herself away in a corner of the room, wouldn't come out no matter how much you tried and it devastated you.

Eddie had seen you in tears one day and you had poured your heart out to him about Missy, he was kind and so sweet with you. For a little bit he just listened as you cried, then he pulled you into a big hug and told you everything would be okay.

"It will be okay sweetheart, I promise you. Every day the hurt will get a little bit better. You'll still miss her but she's here with you always, in your heart and in your memories" you managed to nod through tears and the words had given you hope.

Eddie helped locate Missy who had sadly passed, he was there for you as you through every step, from taking Missy to the vet, to receiving her ashes in a little wooden box that you kept on your nightstand with a picture of your sweet kitty.

Every day Eddie helped you smile even if it was just for a little while, gave you hugs when you needed them and had even drawn a portrait of Missy from one of your photos of her. Something you could remember her by.

The drawing was beside Missy's picture and her ashes and you treasured it. One small act of kindness but it had helped you heal a little bit of your heartache.

Through all of that it was then you realised you had fallen for Eddie.

Eddie who only saw you as a friend.

Eddie who pops his head around your door as you cook some dinner that night, he smiles warmly at you and it flusters you.

"Something smells good princess, can I join you?"

Fuck, he was sexy. His hair was in a bun, he just came home from work and he's in his overalls, there's a smudge of grease on his cheek that you'd love to wipe off.

You fight the urge and heap the pasta into a bowl for him, add the homemade garlic bread and some salad. He lets out a small contented sigh as he settles down and begins to eat.

"I picked a movie when I was coming home from work, want to watch it with me sweetheart?" he suggests to you and you nod. He always picked the best movies.

Once food is consumed you follow Eddie into his trailer and wonder if he had a date tonight? Wouldn't he rather be with them then hanging with you?

Then again he wouldn't have invited you if he thought that. "Don't you have a date Eddie?" You ask curiously and hope you're not prying too much.

"Nah, thought I'd rather hang out with you princess, see some friends" you nod. Of course, friends. That's all the two of you were. At least you definitely know where he stands now.

Maybe it was time for you to have some fun. You deserved to have some fun and it's not like Eddie was ever without attention from women. Maybe he would be protective if you dated someone as a friend.

You watch as Eddie laughs at a certain part of the movie, his dimples on show and his eyes lighting up. He was so perfect it hurt but if he only saw you as a friend then you'd be the best friend he ever had.

💌🎀

Due to your decision you find yourself going to a party that your friends invited you to. It wasn't often that you left the comfort of your home to go to a party nowadays but you figured if anything would help you get over Eddie it would be getting yourself out there.

You're dressed up for the first time in ages and feel really good. Eddie is relaxing with a beer and talking to his friends when you head out of your home.

He chokes on his beer a bit and it flustered you, "Do I look okay?" You ask anxiously and Eddie's big brown eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

"Okay" he chokes out and Steve rolls his eyes and smiles at you. "You look beautiful honey" thanking Steve you wave goodbye to Eddie and you're pretty sure his eyes are on you all the way.

💌💞

You wake in the morning with a slight hangover and the hot guy from last night just leaving the shower. His name was Jerry and he was exactly what you needed at the time, just one night where you didn't think of your god of a neighbour and who he was with.

Jerry doesn't stick around and to be honest you don't want him to. Last night was fun but you weren't looking for a repeat performance. You follow Jerry to the door, saying goodbye but startle when you see Eddie outside your door and looking pissed.

His eyes narrow as he looks at Jerry, his big brown eyes flash with something you can't place. You can't help noticing how unbelievably gorgeous he looks but then he opens his mouth and ruins everything.

"You know I couldn't sleep last night because of you and the lover boy here" you frown confused and your heart skips a beat. Was he jealous?

"Um..." You don't get to say much more because Jerry hastily makes an exit and Eddie's vicious gaze follows him.

"Pussy" he mutters and you scowl. What was wrong with him? He speaks again before you can question him and it sends annoyance pulsing through you, once you hear what he has to say.

"All night I heard you and that idiot all over each other, people do have work and shit you know" you reel back from Eddie stunned. The two of you had never traded cross words and now he was giving you shit for doing something he did most nights?

No fucking way.

"Are you serious Eddie? I hear countless women and their moans and giggles all through the night and I've never said shit about that...yet you have the gall to bitch to me when I bring a guy home?"

His pissed looks melts away just a tiny bit and you walk towards him seriously annoyed at this point, "Let me be clear Eddie. You don't get to give me shit when you've driven me nuts for weeks" he blinks startled then grins. He actually grins.

"You're beautiful when you're angry you know, I mean you're always beautiful but I like seeing you all fiery" this disarms you for a second but you soon wave it off.

"Don't you try and charm your way out of this Munson, your pretty eyes and sweet talk don't work on me" well the pretty eyes did but you wouldn't tell him that.

"I was telling the truth" he replies seriously and you hide your smile. Damn him.

"The only woman I've ever wanted to notice me was you princess" he finishes that sentence and then tugs you to him and kisses you deeply. Your brain short circuits for a few seconds before you kiss him back.

Then you pull away and shake your head. Nope, no way were you being some notch on his bedpost.

"I'm not doing this Eddie. I'm not being another woman that you just conveniently forget about after you get what you want" he looks exasperated and gently tilts your head up to look at him.

"You aren't listening to me sweetheart. I'm totally fucking crazy about you. I don't want anyone else, just you" oh.

Despite the joy you feel you can't help but be a bit frustrated. "You have a funny way of showing it Eddie" he nods and his eyes soften as he squeezes your hand.

"Didn't think you felt the same. I should have asked I know, I'm an idiot". Fuck, you thought that Eddie didn't feel the same about you. Both of you were idiots.

"Well, maybe you can make it up to me later? Your famous Mac and cheese and maybe..." You trail off and find the courage to kiss him this time. He responds eagerly, pulls away to kiss your forehead and beams.

"It's a date princess"

💞

Tag list @whysodelirious08 @ali-r3n @lilrubles @yourdailymemedelivery @marvelcasey05 @melodymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @sadbitchfangirl @mylovelycrazyworld @exploding-bonbon @deamours @costellation-hunter

[novasdarling]

Hawks requests you say??? How about yan hawks with a darling that has been kidnapped for like a month or two now. Darling has been getting a bit bored so hawks is giving them freedoms (like outside time, getting to choose what movie they watch etc.), in exchange for physical and verbal affection. Like darling gets to choose the movie if they cuddle with him for the entire thing.

He would, so many yanderes would, but him especially. Hey, it's a win-win for him. Gets what he wants and sees reader happy.

I rushed it at the end a little sorry!

Give and Take

TW: Kidnapping, Dubcon, Smut, Broken Bones, Female Reader, Stockholm Syndrome

The room was dull, with little decor in it. Hawks had stated it was cause he didn't like when rooms were too busy. He was worried he would bump into something. Bang his wings against a shelf or table. Meaning any decor you wanted to make the place feel like anything other than a jail cell was limited. Hawks had allowed you to decorate certain rooms. Let you bring a few things from your own place. Items he had managed to go back and get. A few picture frames, books, and a few other trinkets. Yet, it was still limited. You couldn't stand looking at the plain walls and bare rooms. The same thing, day in and out. It drove you nuts.

The worst was when it was a nice day out. Sun shining, and a warm breeze. A day you wouldn't be able to actually enjoy. You weren't allowed out, even after all this time he was still worried you would run. You learned your lesson the last time you tried. The memory of hearing your bones snap under his hands still haunted you. A punishment that made its marks on your mind. You hadn't run since then.

You were seated in the living room. On the huge sofa, he had ordered before he brought you home. For the sole purpose of its size, large and soft. Perfect for afternoon naps with each other and movie night cuddles. Words that made you want to puke once. Kicking and screaming when he dragged you to it on those nights. After some time, you eventually became indifferent to it. Though on days when he was out busy saving the city. You could enjoy the softness of it. The comfort it brought when it was just you on it.

"Sweetie, I'm home."

Of course, the comfort never lasted long. Hawks was practically singing those words as he opened the front door. Locking the multiple locks behind him. Most needing a key only he had. Before you would grow angry and hopeless as each lock clicked shut. Now, there was only a gentle laugh leaving your lips. The locks weren't what was keeping you in anymore.

"How was your day." Hawks had made his way to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Same as always. Boring, nothing to do."

"That's unfortunate."

Hawks didn't care to hear you complain. He never did, shutting you down before you could go any further. Now, if you had a complaint. It was short and vague. Something he could hear before interrupting. Something you could slip in before he shut you down.

"It's really nice outside." You were staring out at the patio.

"I guess, though a bit too hot for my liking. I was sweating all day."

That was a lie. He was just saying that to keep you from asking to go out. From asking to go on the patio like you used to do. You had no idea why he was so reluctant to let you on it. It was completely blocked off from other apartments. No other patios could see in. Plus you two were at the top of the building. No one could look down in on it. There was no way you could call for help, that anyone would see you. You were curious if he would ever let you on it, or if it just was for show now. A reminder even in your "home", you weren't welcomed in some areas.

"What's the point of having a balcony if you won't let me use it."

"Oh, well I never use it myself anyway. Just came with the place."

"Keigo" He preferred when you used his real name. A small form of vulnerability he shared with you. "You have a whole patio set out there. You're telling me you never used it?"

Hawks gazed at the furniture out there, then back at you. He didn't like the look you gave him. One that told him you had him. No one owned several outdoor chairs, a table and umbrellas when they didn't use them. Not to mention from what you could see. Some of the chairs looked quite used.

"Well," He was thinking of a comeback. "It's too dangerous for you out there."

That was a lie. You tried to argue with him. Stating no one could see you out there. That you were safe. The railings were high enough that you couldn't jump. Even if he feared that, you wouldn't mind just going out with him. Letting him babysit you while you soaked in the sun. You tried to reason and bargain with him.

"I said no." His tone was telling you not to push on. "Plus, you haven't shown me you deserve it." Hawks' smile was filled with condescending intent.

That piece of shit.

The topic was dropped, but your mind raced through his words. If you were going to be here for the rest of your miserable life with him. You needed to make the most of it. Try to make things normal. Before you were simply cruising on autopilot. Not fighting him anymore, but not actively engaging in his wants and needs. Possibly, it was time things change. That you actively engaged with your new life. A thought that didn't make you want to scream and hurl insults at him like it did in the first few weeks.

The day went by as usual. Hawks got takeout from his favourite restaurant. Both of you ate, him making most of the conversation while you answered with a "that's impressive." or a "you're so good at your job." every time he paused. Compliments that made his wings puff with pride. Once these words made you nauseous, but now they were just words. They made him happy, which meant you were happy. You began to tune him out enough to listen to your thoughts. Starting to think of what he had said earlier "you haven't shown me you deserve it." and what he meant by that. You hadn't made an attempt to run in a long time. Surely that was worth something. You had been good that way, proved you wouldn't run anymore. Why did you have to prove you were good for him anyway? He was the one who kidnapped you. He was treating you like a dog. Do a trick and you'll get a treat.

"Hey, did you hear what I said?"

"Oh," You had heard, at least enough to answer. "yeah, you saved someone from a hostage situation. Very brave."

Brave or attention seeking, who knows.

"Reminds me of the first time we met. When I saved you in that museum." Satisfaction was littered across his face.

How could you forget? The day that ended your life. It had been like any other day. You were a volunteer at the museum, showing a school class around. You were just trying to get some experience to get a job you actually liked.

Around each exhibit, you went. Showing relics from civilizations that didn't exist anymore. Bones of creatures that no longer roamed the earth. That was when it happened. A sudden sound of shots, people hitting the floor. The door leading in and out of the exhibit was shut and blocked. Three men yelling, brandishing guns. You weren't sure what exactly happened. All you remember is getting the kids to hide in a corner. Keeping them as far from the men as possible. It only lasted a few moments apparently. Hawks had cut their plans short. Swopping in and pinning the men with his feathers. Assuring everyone that they were safe now with that stupid smile plastered on his face. That was when you two first met. After the cops had shown up, taking over. You wanted to thank him, along with the kids that wanted to meet the mighty Hawks. He had been so sweet and kind to the kids and you. He had been charming, you could understand how so many fell for his trap. How you fell for it too.

After that day, he began to show up more and more in your life. Little bump-ins, him just showing up to the museum when you were there. You had believed his lies of wanting to make sure he hadn't missed anything, wanting to go over the scene again and again. That was the start. Then there were coffee dates, evening dates, and extravagant gifts. All until he had gotten bored of taking things at the normal pace, or in his words. Taking things slow. Before you knew what was happening. You were here, in his house with locks on every door leading out.

"That was the best day of my life, meeting you. Seeing how you cared for those kids. Putting yourself in front of them. You're one of the few truly good people out of there."

He was prompting you. You could either smile and thank him, or perhaps try something different. After all, he did say you hadn't been good. That was why you couldn't be on the patio. Couldn't have some safe freedoms.

"Thank you, but compared to what you did that day and do every day. It was nothing."

Hawks had paused eating, looking at you like he was curious about where this was going. This wasn't your usual answer. You seldom talked so much unless it was to complain or beg.

"I mean you save people every day without a second thought. Who knows what would have happened without you."

"Yeah, I guess your right. Who knows what would have happened without me." Hawks smirked like a child who was being praised for good grades. Continuing to eat his dinner, smiling throughout the rest of the meal. You had done something right.

You watched him for the rest of the evening. Noticing how much cheerier he was than usual. He was kinder and more lenient than normal. It made you begin to think of his words from earlier "you haven't shown me you deserve it." Was this what he meant, completing him, playing into his little fantasies of a perfect little couple. Like you two were in love. Indifference wasn't good enough for him anymore. It seemed like he wanted more if you were going to ask for things.

For a few weeks, you tested this theory. Complimenting him without any prompts. Kissing him before he left for work and when he got home. It was the small things that made him happy. Hawks began to give into your wants more. Letting you help pick a place to order takeout from. Allowing you to pick the movie or show for the night. He even allowed you to use the TV when he was out at work. Small things that made your cage more comfortable.

It must have been a month or two before your mind wandered to the patio. It would be a big ask, meaning something big in return would need to be given. Hawks had never pressured you for sex. No, he demanded kisses and touches, but not sex. You were glad for that, but his touches began to linger longer as the days went on. You realized it would eventually be requested, or he'd let it fester and cause a fight. Either you could wait, or take it into your own hands. It became a question not when or how you wanted it, but rather which was the better of the two choices. A big ask would need a big return.

You made your choice after a few days. Deciding to take things into your own hands. You had this chance to decide when and how sex with Hawks would go. Something for you, and something for him.

Waiting for the perfect opportunity, you found it. It was after a hard day for Hawks. He had spent half the day chasing a criminal down. One he had been looking for, for weeks. Finally, he had managed to track him. Made the arrest and was the city's hero once again. He was happy, but exhausted. Now was the time. Before you knew it, you two were on the couch, making out. He was enjoying himself, letting his hands roam. Moaning into the kiss. It was now or never. Quickly, you made your way onto his lap. Wrapping your legs around his waist, balancing on your knees. It was a lot, more than you had given him before. The most intimacy you had initiated. You felt Hawks pause for a moment, surprised at your actions.

"What are you-" Hawks pulled away, enough to look you in your eyes.

"I think I'm ready, I-I think I can..." You couldn't finish it, but you knew he understood.

Hawks pulled away further. Allowing himself to look at your whole face. Trying to read your expression. Hawks was a professional at reading people. He knew how to tell when people were lying, and when they were dishonest. There was none in your face. He could tell you wanted this, he just couldn't tell why.

"Ready for what? Use your words, sweetheart."

He was living for this. Living to hear you beg for him, to want him out of your own free will. Or at least as free as it could be in this situation. You told him what you wanted, that you wanted him. Oh, the look he gave you was terrifying. Full of desire, with a predatory element to it. Like he was a starved man, finally finding out his trap had worked. That finally he was going to eat tonight.

Before you knew it, Hawks had picked you up. Taking you to the bedroom. A part of you was thankful that he wasn't just going to take you on the couch. That he would offer some form of comfort for you.

The bed was soft, swallowing you whole while Hawks stood at the end of the bed. Staring down at you, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him down.

"If-If you want me to stop. Let me know, please." He was nervous, you could tell. His voice was a bit shaky.

Maybe it was the Stockholm syndrome finally taking full effect, but you found his words comforting, and endearing. He was letting you have some control. The first taste of control he let you have since bringing you here.

Things had started off slow. Hawks letting you set the pace at first. Allowing you to let him know when you wanted more than just kissing, more than simple touches over the clothing. You were the one to pull him down towards you. Letting him hover over you on the bed. You were the one to deepen the kiss. The one to slide your hand under his shirt. Feeling his skin, allowing your fingers to rake over his muscles. For someone who fought for a living, his skin was somehow so soft. Leaning further in, wanting more of him. He felt soothing like this was something you two had done times before. It felt familiar.

Hawks was hovering over you, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He was being needy, and desperate, but you could tell he was holding himself back. He was waiting for you to allow him more.

Your fingers began to slightly lift his shirt, trying to get him to remove it. It wasn't long until Hawks was stripped of his shirt, and moved onto his pants. Leaving him just in his boxers. Even if some part of you still wanted to fight him day and night, you couldn't help but marvel at his beauty. It was clear why he had so many fans, especially those who ogled him. He had the charm and the looks.

His hands were back on you, helping you move further up the bed until you both lay in the middle. His lips quickly attached themselves to your neck. Kissing and sucking any spot he could get to. You couldn't help but moan when he laid his lips on one spot. Even if you were about to have sex with him, it embarrassed you to enjoy his touches so much.

Hawks' hands were beginning to move under your clothes. Trying to peel them off, though he refused to let his lips part from your skin. Stopping his efforts. You couldn't help, but laugh. His movements weren't smooth. They were rushed and needy as he finally parted from your neck. Getting your shirt and pants off. Leaving you just in your underwear. Hawks had rarely seen you naked. He had given you your space when you changed, or when you bathed. Leaving the room or turning around. But now he was staring shamelessly. His eyes were wide as he watched as you sat up on the bed. Him kneeling beside you while you used your elbows to prompt you up.

"Is-is something wrong?"

You couldn't understand why he was pausing now.

"No" He was now leaning over you, slowly pushing you back down on the bed. "Of course not. It's just that, that I've never seen someone as beautiful as you before." Leaning down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. "How am I so lucky to have you."

He was sweet talking you, but this was different than his normal flirting. It seemed more meaningful. He wasn't just flirting to bother you, to make you flustered. He wasn't using the charm he put on for the camera. This wasn't an act. This was him. Awkward and attempting to be meaningful. He wasn't being Hawks, he was Keigo with you now.

It wasn't long until he was pulling his boxers down. Letting you see just how hard he was just from kissing. You'd never seen him bare, at least not on purpose. He wasn't small, but he seemed more reasonable. Having more width than length. You followed suit and took off your underwear. You both were fully bare now. Both ready for things to move forward, yet unable to push it. Staying in place for a few moments. Hearts pounding, until Hawks made the first move. His fingers finding their place in between your legs. Letting them play with the fat of your inner thigh before moving up. Sliding his fingers up and down between your folds. Getting you used to his touch, getting you used to him being so intimate. It wasn't long until his fingers found their way into you. He was slow, letting only one finger in. Taking his time to allow you to adjust. You closed your eyes, taking in his touch fully. He felt good, it felt nice to have him touching you in a way you wanted. He was doing this to make you feel good. As his finger began to slowly pump in and out of you. Warming you up, getting you ready for him. It wasn't long until he was able to move a second finger in. He was slow. Watching your face to see if you showed any discomfort. Trying to make sure you enjoyed this as much as him. The oddness and discomfort were fading away. It was beginning to feel nice. You were enjoying it and there was nothing you could do to hide the moans escaping your lips. If only your eyes were open to watch how Hawks was looking at you. To see how he marvelled at you. The way he looked at you, reading every little change in facial expression. Wanting nothing more than to give you everything.

It wasn't long until Hawks had his mouth back on you. This time in between your legs. Kissing your inner thighs before attaching his lips to your clit. Your hands gripped the sheets. Trying to ground yourself. Hawks had always put on such a front, acting like your comfort and needs would come second as long as his were met. This time, your needs seemed to be first.

Your back was arching. You were pushing your body lower. Trying to get closer to his mouth. Wanting more. Both his fingers and mouth were making you feel amazing. His name left your lips. Begging for more. You could feel his smile against your skin. He was enjoying this perhaps more than you.

It wasn't long until the feeling in your stomach started. The heaviness of it, like it was begging to be released. He was bringing you closer and closer. You needed it so badly. You hadn't realized, but a "please" had left your lips. Making Hawks pump his fingers slightly faster. Hitting your spot. Tipping you over the edge. Making you finish on his mouth.

You still had your eyes closed, trying to level out your breathing before looking at him. Even with your eyes closed, you knew what look he would have on his face. A smile bigger than anything you'd seen. It would be full of pride. What you missed what how his mouth and chin were now covered in you. Something he was immensely proud of.

"You liked that?"

Of course, he would need you to confirm it. He knew the answer but wanted you to admit it. Wanted you to acknowledge that Hawks the hero, Keigo the kidnapper, could make you feel like this. Could make you cum on his tongue.

Nodding was enough for him. He made his way back on top of you, hovering over you. If only you could see how hard he was. How badly he wanted you. How precum was now leaking from him.

Your eyes shot open when he began to push in. Although he had warmed you up, you were still trying to adjust. It didn't hurt, rather it felt good. Inch by inch he pushed into you. His lips on yours, swallowing your moans. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Once he was fully in. He took a moment before he began to move slowly. Pumping in and out of you. It didn't take long for Hawks to get carried away. He couldn't help, but begin to move faster. Letting his head rest on your neck. Moaning into your skin. He was desperate. Frantic for his own release. His hands sliding under you, grabbing at your ass. Trying to lift you further into him. Mumbling into your skin, praises, rants about how long he's waited. Any type of restraint was gone. He was back to now seeking his own release.

It didn't hurt, rather it felt good. More than you were ready for, but moans still left your mouth. Your hands went to his back. Settling by the base of his wings. Letting your fingers stroke the base. Causing Hawks to shudder and moan at the feeling. Begging you to do it again.

It must have only lasted a few minutes because before you knew it. Hawks had grunted into your neck and his body twitched before stilling. He laid on top of you for a bit. You wanted to laugh, you found it amusing how the oh-great Hawks didn't last long in bed. But in some odd way, it was endearing. To have such a man fall so easily.

Hawks got both of you cleaned up before getting back into bed. It would be stupid to ask for anything right now. He would see it as a betrayal. That you were just using him. You would wait till later. Hoping it would work. Tomorrow evening perhaps, when you had the energy. For now, you would just curl into him. Enjoying this moment.

[soggyriceee]

red handed | yandere!konig

THIS WAS A REQUEST BUT IT GOT FUCKING DELETED IM SO SORRY TO WHOEVER REQUESTED IT I MADE THIS EXTRA SMUTTY JUST FOR YOU I HOPE YOU FIND THIS

summary: Konig is crazy possessive and jealous. You become too close to a guy and he doesn't like that, so he takes matters into his own hands

warning: female!reader, blood, murder, unprotected p in v, mommy kink, breeding kink, knives, not proof read yet

Konig kept you in the house always. he never trusted anyone to not try and get at you. ever. you were gorgeous, his ideal woman. and he was not going to let you get away, not that easy. anytime you wanted to leave he'd always begin to cry. "why do you want to leave me libeling." he'd cry, gripping onto your waist, pulling you back onto the couch. he'd cry and cry and cry until you told him you were joking, even though you weren't. he'd wipe his eyes and look up at you. "I dont like that joke mommy, you know that." he'd say, going back to hugging you.

you never questioned why he acted the way he did. he as always like this, and something about it attracted you to him. the way he'd call you mommy, but tell you that you couldnt leave. boss you around. "mommy go make me food, im hungry." he'd say, letting releasing your boob from his mouth. yea, that was another thing he aways did. anytime you both were cuddling, he'd pull your boob out from your shirt, placing it in his mouth and lay on your chest. it was cute.

whenever you both would have sex, he'd boss you around to. "get on your knees mommy, gonna fuck that throat." and he always did. he'd always whimper how good you treat him, how your only his. your contact with family was limited as well. he didnt have any family to talk to, he only had you. and he only wanted you to have him. of course your family had tried to help you get out that relationship, but you couldnt leave Konig. no matter how controlling or crazy he was, you loved him. and he loved you. but, he loved you a bit too much.

"mommy im going to go to the store now. do you need anything?" he'd ask, placing the pink glittery collar on your neck, tying the rope of it to the coffee table. you had grown accustom to this now. you actually enjoyed it. especially since he did it to make sure you would never escape while he was gone. "mm some ice cream?" you asked, looking up at him. he smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss you. "anything for you mommy. ill be back." he grabbed the keys before turning back to you. "you better still be there when I come back." he said before leaving the house.

and you did. for a bit. it was a sunny day outside, windy. it was the perfect weather. you hadn't seen outside in so long. he always had the patio door locked. "you can escape if I leave it open." he told you. but you wouldn't escape. you were happy where you were right now. but that didnt mean you dont miss the outside. you looked at the TV, watching the girl run around outside, her boyfriend following her. they both looked so happy. why couldnt that be you and Konig?

you knew Konig would be gone for a while. you both lived about 15 miles from a store. plus traffic. you had a good hour and a half before he'd come home. so, with all the strength you had, you began to untie the knot. he never made them too tight. he didnt wanna kill you. he just wanted to keep you still.

you had gotten the knot undone and watched the knot fall to the floor. you swallowed before standing slowly, looking to the front door. you hadn't been outside in so long. and Konig always made it seem like it was the worst out there. "people will murder you mommy. they walk around with knives, guns." he'd tell you every time you look at the door. one time, he actually got angry at you for talking about going outside and tied you to the table, keeping you there for two days. of course he fed you, gave you water. "I dont want to do this but you cant leave me mommy. ever."

so justifiably, you were a bit hesitant. but you made your way to the door, putting on his big shoes, since you no longer had a pair of your own. you gripped the knob tightly, turning it slowly. when you opened the door, the wind blew so softly in your face. it was nice. the sun was out, birds were chirping. there wasn't too many cars outside. you had completely forgotten what it looked like outside your neighborhood. you took a step down, closing the door behind you.

"hey! haven't seen you in a while!" a deep voice called out. you jumped and tried around, meeting eyes with your neighbor, Jackson. "oh hi.. uh.." "Jackson." he laughed, putting the hose down. he jogged over to you, looking at you with a questioning look. "uh whats with the.. collar." he asked, meeting your worried gaze all over. your hand ran over the collar, remembering what Konig said before he left. "u-uh i.. uhm.." you were quickly growing panicked and Jackson caught on almost immediately.

"sit down. I can take it off of you." he said gently, grabbing your hand slowly, trying his hardest not to scare you. you sat on the concrete steps, watching his every move. "d-do you have a gun?" you asked, remembering all the stories Konig had told you. Jackson laughed, looking up at you. but when he realized you were serious, he cleared his throat. "no why..why would I have a gun on me?" he asked. he leaned in close, his hands reaching the back of your neck to undo the collar. his lips were super close, but he never placed them onto yours.

"there." he smiled, moving away. you felt your neck relax, the collar in his hands. " I dont know what Konig has going on in there. he never talks to anyone. ever. I do get worried because you know, nobody can even see inside the house." he said, looking to the door. "does he just keep you in there?" he asked after a moment of silence. you didnt answer. ".. you know. my sister, she was in a relationship like yours. abusive boyfriend. I can get her to talk to you she's actually in th-" "he doesn't abuse me. he treats me really well. he just.. gets scared that ill leave." you said, looking up and down the street. you had no clue what his car looked like, but you looked regardless.

"is that why you have a collar on?" he asked, leaning forward to meet your gaze. you remained silent. "I like things like that." you finally said, maintaining eye contact. he sighed and pursed his lips before standing. " come to my house. I can give you some food. water. whatever you need." he said, reaching his hand out. you looked at it for a moment before looking down. " I have a cat. two." he said, catching your attention. "cats?"

he nodded, a smile forming on his lips. "two cats. it can be for a bit. before he comes home." he said. you were hesitant, looking back into the street. what would happen if Konig came back and saw you weren't in your usual spot? or even in the house? what would happen if he saw you in another mans house? "hey. it'll be for 15 minuets. max. then you can go back. I just wanna make sure you got food and water." he said, kneeling down in front of you. why did he think you were getting abused? you said you weren't. "I already ate today but.. can I play with your cats?" you asked, taking his hand that still hung out. he smiled and nodded, pulling you up. "of course. their names are snowy and rain. one is super white and the other is grey." he said, helping you to his home.

every time Konig left you did this. and you have yet to be caught. it was nice, having a whole new friend. he was super kind, a completely different person than Konig. but you still felt bad for lying to Konig. you weren't cheating, you knew that. but it was nice to make a friend and talk to someone outside those four walls. "I found the ice cream you like by the way, ill bring it to you whenever you come back next." he smiled, walking you back to your house. " oh you didnt have to." you said, stepping onto the first step.

you turned to him, smiling up at him. " yea but.. I guess I just care too much about the small things you say." he said, a soft smile on his face. you looked down, feeling awkward at how close he was. " I uhm.. I wanna take you away from him. you deserve to see the outside, your not some pet." he said, grabbing your chin to lift your head softly. his eyes wandered to your lips, swallowing. " you deserve better." he mumbled, leaning in slow.

you backed away, looking down to your feet. "Jackson im happy here.. I like being in there like that." you said softly. he sighed, lifting your chin again. " why cant you see hes abusing you? ive seen what abuse is before please just-" before he could finish his sentence his body was yanked back, an angry, no. not angry. a furious Konig standing in front of you now. you immediately began to feel dizzy, like you were about to puke. he looked into your eyes, his eye twitching. Jackson groaned below you both, rubbing his throat where his collar was pulled.

"K-Konig I j-just w-" he stepped over Jackson, gripping your wrist and turning you around. he opened the door from behind you, shoving you inside. he closed the door behind him, watching you walk backwards. "mommy who was that? why did you leave? I told you not to leave." he said, walking towards you, long and powerful strides. " h-hes a friend I promise. I just w-wanted to go outside it g-got hot in here." you said, tripping over pure air, falling to the floor. you hit your head on the ground, gripping it. he stood, watching you below him. " am I not good enough? he could have killed you mommy. people have guns. and knives." he said, voice flat. "he doesn't have a gun Konig.. he told me." you replied, wiping your eyes from the impact.

he grabbed your arm, yanking you up. he dragged you into the bedroom, shoving you to the bed. you looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes. "mommy am I not good enough for you? do you not trust me?" he cried, wiping his eyes. you didn't know what to do. you were scared, but hurt. you didn't want to hurt him. you just wanted new friends. "konig I just-" he took the photo of you both on the night stand, throwing it across the room. you jumped, looking down. " mommy you-you broke your promise. you promised you'd stay." he cried, walking over to you.

he pushed you on the bed, laying on top of you. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tight. "i..i'm sorry." you said, still confused on what to do. he sniffled into your shirt. "promise..promise you won't talk to him. every again." he said, looking up at you. of course you didn't want to stop. you had made a friend. a nice person. but Konig was much more important, you couldn't lose him. so you nodded, softly saying 'okay'. he smiled and nodded, laying back on your head. "ill even make sure of it.." he whispered, quietly enough for you to not hear.

__

you hadn't realized it, but you had fallen asleep shortly after Konig telling you to never leave again. you also woke up to an empty bed. rubbing your eyes, you turned to the alarm clock on his side of the bed. it read 9:20 PM. "how long was I out.." you mumbled. shuffling off the bed, you began to look for your boyfriend, calling misname out softly. you didnt know if he was still mad, or if he was somewhere taking some drastic measure to make you stay in this house with him like boarding up the windows or something.

you yawned, walking down the hall. "konig.." you called out again, peeking your head into the bathroom before making you way into the living room. no lights were on and that terrified you. Konig was not one to leave you alone without telling you. you switched the living room light on, eyes landing right onto Konig's phone. you grabbed it, opening it. he had given you his password for his phone in case you wanted to play games while he made you dinner. he trusted you not to do anything stupid.

just as you were about to explore the rest of your home, you heard a scream from outside. a male scream. you jumped at first, but then turned to the patio door. it was dark outside, the only light coming from the cheap, old street lights. you swallowed and walked over to the patio, pulling the curtains back a bit more to see what was going on. the first thing you saw, was your Jackson's front door wide open, the light from inside his house illuminating the front half of his home. then, your eyes scanned the distance from his house to yours, landing on a figure only 2 feet from where your patio was.

the screaming was no more, it came and went very quickly. but you couldnt stop your hands from shaking as you watched this tall figure's arms move up and slam back down. you didnt have the best hearing, but you were sure you heard some sort of squelching every time this figures arms went down. you felt like you were going to be sick. even more so, you were scarred this man was going to come for you next. Konig wasn't here to protect you. you'd die in this house alone, cut up into small enough pieces to eat.

you felt like a deer in headlights, watching your neighbor be stabbed to death. and it lasted quite a while. the more you watched, the more scared you got. but then, you heard the figures voice. " that'll keep you away." he said, or you ended up making out. the phone in your hand dropped when you realized that figure wasn't some random murderer. it was Konig.

he stood from his kneeled position, wiping his hands on his shirt. he walked over the now limp body on the floor, grabbing a shovel from beside him. you watched as Konig began to shovel into the dirt, obviously making a grave for this poor man. well, was it a poor man? you tried to feel sad. and you think a part of you did. I mean, you just watched someone get fucking murdered. but at the same time, you sorta liked how Konig was so protective and crazy over you.

of course killing someone may be extreme in any case of jealousy, but seeing how far he would go just to keep you with him made your thighs clench together. seeing how he truly believed with his whole heart that you were only his, nobody else can touch you or even be close to you. you know you should feel scared of him at this time, but you didnt. you felt honored, and honestly safe. you had a man who would do anything to make you feel safe, protected. and he wasn't going to ever let you go. you felt genuinely loved and wanted. but maybe that was the months and months of Konig's personality and his own craziness getting to you.

and so, you watched as he dragged Jackson into the hole, quickly covering him back up with dirt. you were a bit scared Konig would be caught, but that was a situation for later. right now, more than anything, you wanted to show him just how much hes made you needy for him.

he patted the area down, trying to make it look less suspicious before making his way back to the patio. his eyes landed on yours once he came up to the door, the shovel in his hand dropping. you slowly slid the door open, looking up at him. it was silent. he didnt say anything, but the tears were not shy of coming out his eyes. " mommy im so.. sorry. did you see-" " everything. I did." you said, looking at his bloody neck and face. his hands were no different, if anything they were worse. his clothes were stained red as well.

he dropped to the floor, burying his head in his hands. sobs escaped from him, loud sobs. " konig come inside please, you'll wake the neighborhood." you said, dragging him by his arms into the house. it obviously took a bit, given his large size, but he eventually was inside, back pressed against the patio door. you sighed and sat in front of him, taking his bloody, shaky hands from his face. " konig please..please look at me." you said, wrapping your hands around two of his large fingers. he sniffled and looked up at you, the blood from his face dripping down.

"i..God.. I liked what you did." you mumbled, looking to his chest. he sniffled once more, looking at you. " what?" he asked, his voice still shaky from being caught. you sighed and scooted forwards onto his lap, looking in his eyes. his watery, doe eyes. he was so beautiful, even when he was covered in blood. " I like how protective you are. how jealous you get. I love it, actually. I love all of it." you said, cupping his face. your thumb slipped the mis of tears and blood away, giving him a soft smile. "really? oh mommy thats such good news." he smiled, pulling you into a hug. you giggled and hugged him back, biting your bottom lip.

of course your main goal was to calm him down, but your second goal was to get him to fuck you. you couldn't stop the throbbing feeling from between your thighs. as he told you how much he loved you into your chest, not even thinking about fucking you, you began to grind yourself slowly, subtly on his thighs. and at first he simply thought you were re adjusting yourself. but when tiny little moans began to come from you, and your hips moved just a bit faster, he quickly caught onto what you were doing. he smiled into your chest, biting the shirt you had on.

" mommy.." he cooed, hand finding your ass. he gripped it, dragging your hips faster. " are you horny right now?" he asked, looking up at you from your shirt. you were embarrassed. I mean he just killed a man and here you were trying to get off. but you couldnt stop the 'yes' that came out of you. he smiled and leaned back onto the patio door, the blood on him only adding to the sensation you felt.

his thigh began to gently bounce below you, his eyes going from innocent to dark in a matter of seconds. he watched as your hips moved faster on his thigh, watching your body lean forward. your mouth fell ajar, the prettiest of whimpers coming from you as you moved yourself perfectly on his thigh, giving your clit the right amount of attention. " mommy likes seeing her baby boy kill for her isn't that right?" he whispered, his free hand working up your shirt. you felt the cold blood on his hands as he gripped your breast, his fingers quick to roll your nipple in between his fingers.

you nodded, looking down to see his thigh bounce faster, but not too fast. just enough to get you to the edge. " well your baby boy would kill for you any time mommy." he said, guiding your hips faster to match the pace of his thigh. he leaned in, his other hand still working on your nipple. " id kill a hundred men for you, just to keep you in this house. keep you here for me mommy. only me." your head fell into his neck, covering your forehead in blood. the knot in your stomach was slowly coming loose and he knew it just by the sounds of those pretty little whined you let slip from out of you.

"come on mommy let it go.. cum for me. cum for your good boy." he begged, a whine coming from him. the tent in his pants only made it harder for you to hold back your orgasm and before you knew it, your body tensed up, sinful sounds escaping your lips. he moaned at the wet spot that formed on his thigh, bleeding (hehe) through his thin sweatpants. you clothed onto him, feeling your whole body shake as you came down, his thigh slowing down to help yo pride out your high. when you pulled away, he groaned at the blood that was dripping down your face.

" ride me mommy, come on." he said, his hands moving quickly to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. you fell off his lap, but quickly went back to your place. the night shorts you had on, he slid to the side, exposing your wet, dripping cunt. he whined at the sight, bitting his bottom him. " well come on mommy its your dick. ride it." he said, looking up at you. you wasted little time in positioning yourself over his tip, sliding down. you wanted to go slow, get yourself used to the feeling again, but Konig had other plans.

his hands gripped your hips and shoved you down, his head thrown back against the glass, a pained whimper leaving your lips. he raised your hips, looking down at the small amount of blood on his dick. your blood. he moaned at the sight before slamming you back down. your hands gripped his shoulders, your eyes squeezing shut. he gave you no time to adjust to him, but that was also something that turned you on. "come on mommy ride it. show me how much of a good boy I was for killing him." he whined, slapping your face gently to open your eyes.

your hips began to move up and down, slowly at first. you gasped as his size continued to stretch your cunt out, slowly picking up the pace afterwards. his hands gripped onto your hips harder, a whimper leaving his lips every time you went back down on him. his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth left open slightly. you looked at him and as badly as you wanted to kiss him, you didnt want the blood in your mouth. " oh mommy your..doing so fucking good~ please tell me im a good boy" he whined, looking down at you as you bounced up and down, up and down.

" y-yours such a good..good boy baby. such a good boy" you cooed, adjusting yourself so you now were in a squatting position, feet pressed flat to the ground. he moaned as your praised him, the switch in position making his hips buck up. your own head fell back as you felt him reach your cervix, but your hips never stopping. " your my mommy.. all fucking mine." he growled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. his hips thrusted up into you, fast and deep. his balls slapped right at the bottom of your arse, adding to the already sloppy sounds of his dick moving in and out your cunt.

your hands pressed onto the patio door, your mouth left wide open. both of you let out moans and whimpers with each thrust of his hips, not only the feeling of love but the feeling of possessiveness floating in the air. " fuck your so tight mommy, love fucking your cunt. only I can right? only y-your baby..boy can?" he asked, gripping your tighter. you nodded quickly, trying your hardest to get words out but they never came. he slid out and pushed you off him, making your body fall back. he dragged you back to him by your ankles, hovering over your body. he gripped his base and slammed it right back into where it belonged, hips jutting into yours all over.

his hands gripped your calves, pulling your legs over his shoulders. your back arched off the cold floor, hands gripping the coffee table right behind you. " all m-mine.. " he whimpered, his head dropping into your chest, your body folding forward more. " im yours b-baby.. forever." you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. he picked his head up, looking down at you. he loved seeing you react to him fucking you, loved seeing the way your wet lips were parted, the blood on your face dripping down to your neck. " gonna make you fucking pregnant mommy. gonna be mine- fuck - forever. you understand?" he moaned, his hand finding your throat and gripping it.

you nodded, choking out a 'yes'. his looked down, watching your cunt form bubbled of your slick around his dick, the squelching sounds growing louder as his pace picked up. " fuck mommy~ this pussy is s-so good" he whined, his eyes crossing as he felt his orgasm reaching him. your hands gripped onto the table harder, mouth falling ajar. his thrusts began to jerk your own body forward, legs still around his shoulders. the knot that you felt moments ago was back, and it was coming fast.

" keep going Konig p-please.. im gonna c-cum!" you whimpered, looking down at where his dick slammed into yours. your own juices were running down your arse, coating the inside of your thighs. " im n-not gonna stop mommy I promise.. please cum" he moaned, his head dropping back into your chest, the hand the was on your throat quickly began to pull your boob out from under your shirt, his lips finding the nipple. his tongue ran circles over the nipple, bitting it and occasionally pulling at it.

the only words that came from your lips at this moment was 'Konig'. the only words coming from him were 'mommy'. you began to pulse around his dick, his thrusts becoming sloppy too. " hold it mommy.. gonna c-cum together so fucking hold it." he whined, going right back to sucking on your nipple. you clenched around him trying to hold back your orgasm. but the way he was ramming into your g spot, hitting your cervix so painfully well. it was hard. and it didnt help that his cute little whimpers were going more frequent.

however, he raised his head, looking down at you with hooded eyes and wet lips. " cum mommy, please cum all over me." he begged, his thrusts becoming sloppy. you nodded quickly, releasing the grip from your cunt. he looked down as he watched your cum spurt out of you, covering his lower half and chest with it. that was enough to set him over the edge. " oh fuck- mommy~" he whined, giving you two final, hard thrusts before his cum shot deep into you. his hands found your hips, gripping onto them as his body shook. tears dropped from his eyes, small gasps to accompany them.

his body fell onto yours, still shaking from the powerful orgasm youth experienced. it was silent for a bit, the sound of heavy breathing filling the air, you felt his cum begin to seep out you and so did he. he raised himself slowly, looking back down to thrust his hips into yours. gently tho, he too was completely fucked out. " gotta keep.. my cum in you mommy." he breathed out, lazily thrusting his hips back int you.

when he pulled out he reached over to you, pulling you just enough so he could lift you into his arms. he kissed your cheek, and then slipped your boob into his mouth for a moment. releasing it with a pop, he looked up at you. " lets shower. then, we look for new places to live." he smiled. you giggled and nodded, resting your head into his bloody chest, replaying in your head what just happened.

to whoever requested this I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! I have no idea what the hell happened to your request I just opened Tumblr and the original post I was going to post was gone so I hope you find this <3

[writer-in-theory]

A Cat Named Eddie — part one

part one part two part three

--

Steve didn't mean to adopt a cat.

The little guy was sitting on the back patio by the pool, just staring. He was a black cat, perched on the ledge of the pool.

"Where did you come from?" Steve asked when the cat didn't spook. It just watched him, head tilting to the side a little when he got closer. There was no collar on it, nothing to signify that he belonged to anyone. He was dirty enough to suggest he was a stray and too thin around his middle. "Do you have anyone to take care of you?"

The cat blinked.

"Yeah, me either," Steve chuckled gently, reaching out to pet his head. The cat was apprehensive at first, pulling his head back and staring at Steve with wide yellow eyes. "Right, we gotta get to know each other first. Well come on, it's warmer inside, and I have food."

Steve wasn't sure if the cat would listen, but he seemed okay enough with the idea to follow Steve inside the house after all. He stayed close by Steve's ankles, not quite touching. "Food, food," Steve hissed, beginning to open up every cabinet for something that might be cat-friendly. "Oh! Cats eat fish, right? You want some tuna?"

Another blink.

"That looks like a yes to me, big guy," Steve laughed, decided to plate up a portion of a can of tuna.

The cat dug in immediately, even being so enthusiastic about the food that he let Steve sit down beside him and pet along his back. After the food was gone, the cat walked over and plopped down on the ground beside Steve, paw reaching out to grab onto his hand.

"Oh, more love?" Steve obliged, scratching at the cat's ear until he heard a gentle purr coming from it. "See, it's not so bad. You can trust me."

This was silly. What he should be doing is taking it to the nearest shelter, letting them know that it was sitting outside without any sign of belonging to anyone. He shouldn't be feeding it, petting it, oh, letting its sweet little head rest on his thigh while it slept—

"Guess I better get some supplies tomorrow, huh? You wanna stick around here?" Steve sighed, a smile worming its way onto his face as the cat relaxed against him. "You can stay. We'll take care of each other. Now you just need a name."

--

Eddie's pretty sure he's going crazy.

It starts with pretty innocuous questions from the kids when Steve comes to pick them up from D&D night. "Hey, how's Eddie doing?" Max asked when Steve got out of his car, standing by the open driver's side door as if to signal he needed to take off quickly.

It's odd that Max would ask Steve that when Eddie was standing right there, but he doesn't question it.

"Steve! Is Eddie settling in okay?" That's Dustin. It's been weird after the Upside Down, having been cleared of the murder charges but still not welcomed back into the hearts of the Hawkins people (though he's not sure he ever really had a spot there to begin with). It's nice for the kids to be worried about him, but again, Steve Harrington doesn't really seem like the most knowledgeable party in the room. Sometimes, though, it's easier not to ask questions and go with it, especially with this band of hooligans.

"Did you see Steve with Eddie yesterday? He was dancing around with him, it was the sweetest thing."

Eddie didn't know if Nancy saw something that he didn't, but he's fairly certain he did not get to dance with Steve yesterday. The thought alone had him curling a bit of his hair around his finger, eyes staring at the table distractedly. The thought of having that strong body pressed against his, so close he could feel Steve's heart beating as quickly as his own, hands wrapped up in each other as they swung to whatever gentle music Steve liked to play when everyone was around.

He wished.

But it's the day he walks into Family Video and overhears Robin's conversation with Steve that does it.

"Have you gotten Eddie to sit in your lap yet?"

What.

Eddie ducks behind one of the shelves before they can see him, determined to hear what Steve has to say about it. He wouldn't call it eavesdropping, per say, especially since the conversation is about him. He has a right to hear!

"No, he'll always sit right next to me instead," Steve sighs dramatically, and Eddie can practically envision the way Steve must be draped over the center counter. "I tried to pick him up yesterday and the little fucker bit me."

Now there's a thought. Eddie could think of a few things he'd like to bite o—

"But he did sleep in bed with me! Slept right on my chest until I fell asleep. I call that progress."

Now that's just cruel. Did Steve know how many nights he'd idly thought about the same thing? How many times he'd laid on his thin pillow and wished it was Steve's fucking ex-jock pecs holding him up? Was it all some joke, a way to tease Eddie after finding out about his crush on him?

Shit, that was it. Steve wouldn't do that, right?

Except.

Except Eddie can vividly remember the day when Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan got together, and Steve had been so relentless in his teasing that even Eddie felt some amount of sympathy for the pair. That ended the second the two turned their anger toward the freaks and geeks of the school, of course, but it had existed for a brief moment if only because of Steve Harrington's ability to hurt when he wanted to.

Well two could play at that game. If Steve thought this was funny, spreading rumors and rubbing it in Eddie's face that he couldn't have him, well, he'd show him just what he was missing.

Eddie's heart races as he grabs the nearest movie case, sidling up to the counter and trying to act like he wasn't bothered by anything he'd heard.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie smirks, dropping the case onto the counter in a move that he hopes screamed cool, cool, cool.

Steve raises an eyebrow, grabbing the movie and beginning to process of letting him rent it. "Can't Buy Me Love? Didn't think you were the RomCom kind of guy."

"I'm not," Eddie laughs. This could not be more perfect. He hasn't seen the movie, but he's overheard Nancy telling the plot of it to Robin in an attempt to get a date out of her. The universe must be on his side for once, urging him to remind Steve that he wasn't the only person who knew how to hurt. "My date insisted. I don't really get it though. Why Dempsey would give up everything for the pretty popular one is above me."

"It's a cheesy movie, but the plot has some p—"

"I mean they're all the same anyway. Perfect little airheads using daddy's money to make friends. Sure Amanda Peterson's character has the looks, but what else does she have, really?"

Steve stands stock-still, hazel eyes focused intently on the movie case. He seems so unbothered by the whole thing, carrying on with grabbing the cash Eddie'd slid over the counter.

"I mean, she's a perfect representation of all those sporty types, isn't she? She expects any freak out there to just want her because she's cool, like we can't all see right through the bullshit." That one felt like shards on Eddie's tongue, remembering the night Steve had told him about the Halloween party, about the public humiliation he's suffered and all the heartbreak that came after. Still, nothing could hurt quite so bad as hearing Steve mocking him, telling everyone they knew that Eddie was doing all of these things he could only dream of doing. It was a sick joke, one that deserved only the best retaliation.

Eddie could only relish in the shocked look on Steve's face, one he's sure matched his own when he heard Eddie and lap in the same sentence. "I'm sure it'll still be a decent movie though," Eddie finishes with a little smile, picking the case back up.

Steve hadn't stopped staring. His lips finally close back together, eyebrows drawn tightly as he considers Eddie. "Have a fun date then, Munson," Steve says, and Eddie nods his agreeance.

"Have a fun night too, Harrington."

He doesn't stop at Robin's loud shout of indignation. He doesn't stop for anything, continuing to his van until he can no longer see Steve's face.

--

( i'm so sorry part two coming soon )

[shares-a-vest]

"Are you sure you don't want to just come over to my place?"

Steve bites his lip, contemplating the proposal Robin has offered him several times this week, ever since he'd told her he was having lunch with his parents.

It was Father's Day after all.

His parents would be home for at least a fortnight this time, on a quick stop-over in Hawkins before leaving again, this time for a vacation somewhere. They needed "a break" his mother had said with a laboured sigh, all whistful and longing as if she wasn't making such a statement amidst a lengthy monologue about all the friends they had just caught up with in Indianapolis.

Steve guesses they were technically a business trip. Though his recollections of such trips he'd gone as a kid (back when his parents absolutely had to bring him along) did involve the odd visit to Head Office in between social gatherings that only ever felt vaguely related to his father's business.

He turns away from the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen to look out at the patio. His father is sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a coffee and, low and behold, reading his new copy of The Bourne Supremacy Steve had handed him at breakfast.

His father was impossible to buy for - so a book was always a safe enough choice, one that would at least give him a "thank you" in return with no further commentary or snark.

"Uh..." he hums into the phone as his father turns a page, "Y'know what? Maybe later."

He gasps as his mother opens the back sliding door to the kitchen, the skirt of her yellow patterned kaftan flowing along with her. He turns back to the wall, crowding the phone base.

"Steve?" his mother asks, chuckling, "You're still on the phone!"

It isn't exactly chastising, more amused like Robin's mother gets about the pair of them talking on the phone for a solid hour at a time.

He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes as his best friend groans at the comment.

"Are you sure?" Robin asks, tone abruptly turning serious, "You know my dad loves you, Steve."

"I'll come by later," he insists, "Promise."

"...Okay..." she sighs before hanging up.

As he mounts the speaker, Steve is greeted with a knowing look from his mother. She is holding a glass of iced tea, fresh ice cubes tinkling away in the tall glass.

"Mom, don't," he whines, hoping to get outside and drive straight into the pool and away from any further conversation.

She holds her free hand up in surrender, tilting her head, "Okay, darling."

"I'm going for a dip," he grumbles before heading out to the pool area.

"Your mother and I are headed over to the Martens soon," his father announces as Steve passes by his reclining form.

His stomach drops and he freezes mid-stride to the outdoor chair he'd designated for his towel.

"What?" he blurts out, practically shouting as he whips around.

His father sets his book in his lap and looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his left hand. The sunlight reflects off his shiny watch and directly into Steve's eyes.

He grimaces, quickly mirroring his father.

"But..." he begins, trying to even out his clipped tone, "You said... We... You said we were having lunch here?"

"Your mother didn't tell you?"

"But..." he repeats, his voice catching in his throat a little, "It's Father's Day."

His father stands, stretches and gathers up the beach towel he had propped under his knees.

"We wanted to see them before we headed out."

"You're here for two weeks!" Steve argues, waving his hand as if to capture the presumed time his father has to visit his oldest and most insufferable friend.

"Steve, John and Louise's son is that busy working, he doesn't have time to be sitting around on Father's Day. So, we figured we'd meet them for lunch."

"Um..." he gulps, now blinking away tears.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as slowly as his growing anger will allow. The sun feels like it is burning into his bare skin, now, no longer feeling like the calming warmth he had felt when he came out to access the pool earlier.

He opens his eyes to find his father turned towards the back door.

"I'm going to Robin's."

He doesn't wait for an answer as he pushes past his father and back into the kitchen. Thankfully, his mother is nowhere to be seen as he makes a beeline for the laundry room where he'd left his work clothes from yesterday with his car keys still in the pocket of his jeans.

He grabs his Member's Only jacket from the coat rack on the way out. Even though the thing is less than weather-appropriate for a Sunday in June, right now it will suffice...

"Steve!" Robin's dad beams after he opens the front door.

The man is wearing a comically bright shirt, a Hawaiian-style button-up with a primary-coloured geometric pattern and squiggly green swirls. Steve thinks his father would hate it.

"Hi, Mr Buckley," he says, offering a tight-lipped smile as he holds out a store-bought key lime pie.

"Steve, please call me Richard," the man insists, unaware that sharing a name with his own father makes Steve want to fucking scream.

Richard takes a pie with a formal nod, his smile dropping a little as Steve shuffles about on the spot. The man looks him up and down.

Shit.

He'd forgotten about the jacket just as quickly as he had shrugged it on before speeding off in his car. But Richard waves him in with an insistent hand, thankfully not prying any further. It is probably quite obvious he isn't wearing a shirt underneath. The thought makes him itch as he becomes all too aware of the slippery fabric, its lining making the back of his neck prickle with sweat.

"Robin is in her room," Richard whispers as Steve steps inside and remembers his flip-flops too as they scuff on the threshold.

"The pie is from Melvad's, sorry," is all he thinks to say.

Richard gives him a pat on the back, just as Robin begins descending the staircase, wearing a shirt just as loud as her father's, only purple and maroon.

She smiles, though her eyes suggest she is clearly worried.

"Steve's here, darling!" Richard announces, intentionally boisterous for their close proximity.

"Oh, thank god," Robin dry-sobs, making grabby hands for the pie.

But Richard snatches it up, playing a one-sided game of keep-away that Robin doesn't even attempt to buy into. He lowers his hand with a swooping flourish, looking a little disappointed.

"Anything's better than the in-laws' dry fruit pudding," he laughs as they both examine the dessert.

"Come on," Robin says, grabbing Steve's hand and yanking him towards the stairs, "This Father's Day's theme is Richard Buckley-Approved Shirts, I've already got one ready for you. It's yellow. You'll love it."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 21

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: have a wonderful day!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gate bell buzzes and you rush from the kitchen to answer, the porcelain clinking as you leave it in the sink. You flit into the hall and to the entryway. As you pull the door open, you sense a shadow and turn to see Laufeyson at the top of the stairs. He watches but does not speak. You waver before you find the strength to continue on.

You shut the door gently and try to breathe through your rattling nerves. You don't understand what's going on. The words Laufeyson said still don't make sense to you. He can't mean what you think. You have to be overthinking. Yet the tickle of his touch remains on your skin and fuels your doubts.

How can you say no to him? If you do, he might say the same...

You repress a shudder as you reach the gate and hold the button to roll it back. Ronan steers through in his truck, pulling in just behind Laufeyson's flashy ivory car. You let the gate close and approach the truck bed as the carpenter climbs out.

"Miss," he opens the rear door to grab his bag, "you look nice, special occasion?"

You look down at yourself and wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. It's sunny but it isn't the weather that has you fired up. You force a smile that makes your cheeks twitch.

"Uh, no, they're just...new," you sway as you push your hands behind you, "erm, so I guess... you should get started."

"I should," he checks his watch, a thick leather band with a tarnish face, "I hate to get in the way of your work. Or ruin your fancy clothes."

"Oh, uh, it's not... I'll bring you some water," you offer.

"Hmm," he hums as he shuts the door, "you're too kind for your own good. Nice to see you doing something for yourself for a change."

"I..." you swallow the truth. "Thanks."

"Not that you didn't look good before," he insists.

"Well, I..." you murmur, looking away bashfully.

"I'm talking a lot," he chuckles, "you know where I'll be."

He turns and stalks off towards the house. You blow out a breath as your eyes are drawn to the front door. Mr. Laufeyson stands in the frame, again observing you, his gaze narrowed to slits. He reminds you of a snake in coil about to strike.

The door shuts before you can reach it. You enter and he's gone. It's like some game. You return to the kitchen to finish tidying up the porcelain from tea. You set it away in the glass cabinet and fill a fresh jug of water. As you place it on the patio, Frigga pops her head up from the roses, a healthy bouquet in hand as she snips the stems with a pair of cutters.

"These will be nice in the dining room," she suggests as she shows the white petals, "Maybe a few for the study?"

"Uh, yeah," you plunk down the pitcher and glass. "Did you need any water? This is for the carpenter."

"Oh, he's here?" She says, "I didn't see him. Perhaps I can ask him about the flower boxes."

"Yeah, uh, maybe," you agree, "I'll be, er, upstairs working. Got a lot to catch up on from yesterday."

"No worries at all, darling," she assures you.

You retreat and stumble to get your shoes off once more, mindful of the rules. That's the problem. Everyone is forgetting the rules. Ronan does the gazebo not the flower boxes, you don't wear your shoes in the house, and Loki-- Mr. Laufeyson is just your boss.

You rush up the stairs, nearly too at a time, and reach the top out of breath. You hurry into the library and close yourself up inside. It's just you. It strikes you how much you missed being alone. These last few weeks have felt so crowded. Constricted even.

You finally make yourself sit still. You find it hard not to wriggle in the seat as you watch the laptop screen load. It feels so long ago that you did this. It's all backwards and you don't like it. You like clear lines. You are separate from Mr. Laufeyson. You are below. You have your tasks and he has more important concerns.

You focus on balancing his bills. There are a lot of outstanding invoices. You're still learning how to keep it all organized. You feel a bit out of your depth with all the numbers but you excelled at math all those years before.

A subtle click barely registers but nestles in your ear. You squint at the screen as you watch a tutorial on Excel functions. You're still figuring that out too.

"The carpenter has been dealt with?" Mr. Laufeyson states as much as he asks.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you confirm and pause the video. You glance behind him at the open door to his study.

"Very good," he says, "he will work faster without distraction."

You nod. You take his point. He is right. It might be better that the project is finished sooner than later. There's a big enough mess, the type you don't know how to clean up.

He strides around the library, perusing the shelves as if they are new to him. He feels along the spines of books and drags his fingers along the wood. You watch him, waiting. For what, you don't know.

"Don't let me distract you," he says without looking at you as he slides out a volume. "As you were."

Your eyes flick down obediently. You try to refocus but forget where you were. You open the ledger to make notes as you restart the video. You can sense him lurking around the room, closer and closer as his silhouette blurs the edge of your vision.

The narrator continues their instruction as you open the transcript to follow along. Mr. Laufeyson inches closer and closer, walking just behind your laptop, then around one side of your desk before doubling back. Again, he looms behind the screen and strolls along the other side. And at once, he's behind you.

You tense as you feel him watching over your head. You keep your hand moving as you take notes, writing down words you don't process. Your pulse thrums in your temples as you feel him leaning over you. His hands rest on your shoulders and he kneads them as you sit frozen.

He bends further and further until you feel his breath on your crown. He nuzzles your hair as his hands trail slowly across your shoulders. They close loosely around your neck as he exhales with a groan. Just like the one you heard earlier.

You gulp against his grip as your pen stills and you stare blankly at the screen, the narrator hazing to a drone and the colours fogging together. You drop the pen and drag your hand up to touch his. He tuts as he lowers his head next to yours, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks.

"I didn't say stop," he slithers as heat scalds over you.

You shiver and remove your hand from his, reaching for the pen instead. You pick it up, trembling as you try to read your own writing, your chin pressing to his knuckle as he tightens his hold on you. It's just scribbles, broken lines and squiggled waves.

"Notice too, you did not either," he whispers against the shell of your ear and draws away, all once releasing you. 

You gasp as he swiftly side steps and strides across the room. He retrieves the volume from the shelf and reclines across the chaise, lazily opening the pages with a sigh. You stare at him as he lingers, engrossing himself in the book as you forget all about the spreadsheets and negative balances.

👠

Mr. Laufeyson leaves without a word. A taunt in its own right. He’s toying with you impeccably. His every move, his every glance, even something as careless as breathing is a statement. He’s watching. He’s waiting. For something…

Your frustration boils over and you snap shut the lid of the laptop. You haven’t been able to focus since his intrusion. The weight of his hands on your throat remains even with him gone. At moments, it feels as if you are truly being strangled.

You get up and resign yourself to something less complicated. You near the door and stop to peek at the one attached to the study. It’s open still but you wouldn’t think to peer through it. Is he there still? Listening? Expecting something?

You go into the hall and descend, each step expecting Laufeyson to call you back, to reproach you for straying. You reach the bottom without obstacle and exhale. You hear noise in the kitchen and follow it.

Frigga is there, placing a rectangle tray on the counter. She is comfortable as she moves around lightly. She knows where everything is as she arranges her ingredients and tools. You admire her. You wish you had that confidence, especially now as you drown in uncertainty.

“Oh, darling, wonderful timing,” she praises as she looks up, “I thought to do some cooking before I go. I’m sure you know Loki is rather avoidant of doing so himself. Why don’t you join, hm?”

You blink and hesitate, glancing over your shoulder. It isn’t exactly work. 

“Don’t you fret for him, if he has issue, I will take it up with him,” she dismisses your unspoken doubts. “Come, come, I want to share with you my best recipes.”

“Okay,” you cross to her. She is undeniable, besides, you don’t think Laufeyson would be pleased to hear if you were to reject his mother. 

“Beer-marinated pork,” she announces, “roasted turnip and some hand-made bread, of course.”

You nod and twiddle your fingers. You’ve never had beer-marinated anything. Well, your culinary experience is lacking.

“Family recipes,” she explains, “adapted over the years. There was a time the bread was baked on rocks and the turnip would be roasted over embers. Imagine.”

She trills and spins around, gathering more supplies for her growing array. As she faces the counter again, she sighs.

“I much rather prefer the modern methods, of course. Not so tedious and Loki has ensured the best,” she goes to the stacked ovens embedded in the wall and sets the temperature, leaving the upper one to preheat. “A pity, such a nice kitchen and it’s barely used. That cook of his… she doesn’t know our recipes.”

You listen, too anxious to summon any sort of comment. She doesn’t seem to notice as she carries the conversation smoothly. 

“Do you cook? You must,” she answers her own question, “we will make enough for you to take home for your father. If he can’t stomach beer, I can make a sauce.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s okay–”

“I insist,” she overrides you, “it’s a labour of love for me. I love cooking. That is the one thing Sif– his ex-wife wasn’t fond of. She was always at the stable.”

You nod, trying to unravel the story from the stray threads. Little by little, you learn more of the woman who used to live here. In your head, she is sophisticated and splendid. And the way the speak of her, they seem to mourn her as much as you do your own mother.

“We will need onion and some spices, we’ll mix it in with the beer for our marinade,” she instructs, “a bowl…” she turns to take a silver bowl from the nested stack.

She puts it before you and directs you. She stands back as she lets you do it yourself. It’s nice to have the simple tasks set out one by one, even if it feels as if she’s judging your every move. You submerge the pork chops to marinate and she turns your attention to the turnip.

“Be careful chopping, turnips can be difficult,” she girds.

You shy away from the large knife and the hard rutabaga. It’s not easy to saw through as you rock the knife this way and that. You only get halfway through before the blade sticks immovably.

“Allow me,” she takes over and with a jerk, finishes the chop. The turnip splits in two as the knife meets the thick cutting board. “A bit of elbow grease…”

“Mother, what are you up to?” Laufeyson enters with a hand in one pocket.

“Oh, you know, dear, I can’t leave you without dinner.”

“I have a cook,” he counters.

“Mmm, yes, but nothing like a homemade meal,” she tisks.

He looks at you as he nears. You wipe your hands on a dish cloth and wring it tight. Frigga continues on unbothered, turning one half of the turnip on its flat side and chopping it into chunks.

“She’s helping,” she says, “please don’t take her from me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he shrugs, his lips slightly curving.

“You were thinking it,” she huffs, “she can take some time to cook. Perhaps, she should do so regularly. It would save you money.” 

“But not time. She has other tasks.”

“You being the most onerous,” Frigga chirps as she transfers the chunks into the pan.

“Perhaps,” he does not look away from you as you twist the dish cloth to its limit. He slips his hand from his pocket and lets it brush up his shirt, “I am what you raised me to be.”

“I was saying to the darling earlier,” she ignores his snipe, “the next time you visit, you might bring her along.”

“Eh, next time…” Laufeyson swallows as his lips fall straight, “maybe…”

“You are going to visit, aren’t you?” Frigga whines, “you and your father, I don’t know why you just can’t get along.”

“I tried, mother, I did. You saw–” he stops himself, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Very much. You’re family.”

“Are we? He’s disowned me more than he’s ever claimed me.”

“You’re too much alike, that’s your problem,” she chides, “and you’re both too stubborn to see it.”

“We will discuss this another time,” he says as he peeks at you again, “in private.”

“Should I…” you begin.

“Stay,” Frigga and her son command at the same time.

“I’m not sending her home empty-handed,” Frigga says, “so you will drive her home, yes? It will be too much to take on the bus.”

“Why, of course,” he accepts, “it would be my pleasure.”

“Mm, and the carpenter, he fixed the flower boxes already. A few loose nails,” she grins, “nice man, that one. I might recommend him to your father.”

Laufeyson pokes his tongue out as he squints. He turns his gaze back on you. You miss when he barely looked at you, when he hardly even acknowledged your existence. And yet, you're just the same. You can't say a word.

“I haven’t dealt with him much,” he says pointedly, “that is the house manager’s concern.”

“Probably better off,” Frigga snickers, “she won’t drive him away.”

[pedroscurls]

second chances | pt. 2

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: Marcus gets ready to go back to work after his last few days off. He finds that you and him run on a similar schedule and slowly develop a routine. Word count: 3k A/N: This story is all fluff and eventually smut, fyi. I just want to see that smile back on Marcus Pike's face after Lisbon literally just ditches him👀 (lol i'm still bitter) Warning: None.  SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

Marcus spends the rest of his days off at home, only stepping out to get food. He finds that he prefers his solitude and since meeting you, he realizes that Lisbon hasn’t crossed his mind since. He isn’t sure what that means exactly, but he continues to tell himself that nothing could ever happen between the two of you. He hasn’t seen you since he helped you move your bed into your apartment and he doesn’t see you when he does step out of his apartment, but he has heard you throughout the day when he opens the door to his patio to let some fresh air into his apartment. 

He assumes that your sliding door must be open too because he hears the music playing softly in the background. It’s loud enough that he can hear it and he wonders if you’re beginning to unpack. Since meeting you, Marcus feels a little more hopeful about his new life in DC. 

When Monday rolls around, Marcus is already dressed and ready to head out the door by six in the morning. He’s got a travel mug filled with coffee and a bag slung over his shoulder. He hopes that he gets to see you today, even if it’s only in passing. Finally grabbing his keys, Marcus steps out of his apartment and locks it behind him. He turns on his heel and instantly smiles when he sees you locking the door to your apartment. His eyes rake over your frame, taking in what you’re wearing. You’re dressed in a white sweater with rainbow-colored horizontal stripes on it and it’s tucked into a pair of dark slacks. Your hair is pulled back into two loose braids and you have an overly-sized bag draped over your shoulder. You’re also wearing high top white converse and it puts a smile on Marcus’s face. You definitely look like a Kindergarten teacher. And it’s cute. You’re cute. 

“Morning,” Marcus calls out softly.

You look up at him and immediately grin. You couldn’t stop thinking about Marcus since meeting him. The first time you met him, it wasn’t that he was wearing a lack of clothing that you noticed, but rather his big, brown eyes that were staring back at you. And when he smiled and a dimple appeared on his right side of his cheek, you found yourself captivated. You just couldn’t believe that you tripped over your feet and that he had been watching. It was embarrassing and it was something that you always found yourself doing whenever someone that good looking was paying attention to you. 

You had hoped to see him again after he initially helped you move your large bed into your apartment, but was disappointed that you kept missing him. You had enough to distract you though, plenty of boxes to unpack, but you couldn’t help that your mind kept drifting to Marcus. Even when you opened your sliding door to your patio, you always looked over to the left to see if you would catch him standing outside too. 

But as Monday approaches, your mind is focused solely on your first day at the new school. You’re excited to start working again, so when you step out of your apartment and lock your front door at six in the morning, you’re surprised to hear his voice. You look at him from top to bottom and smile to yourself; he’s wearing a dark gray suit with a lighter gray button down shirt paired with a red tie with white dots. 

“Good morning, Marcus.” You both begin making your way to the elevator and you reach out to press the down button. As you and Marcus stand at the elevator doors, waiting for them to arrive and open, it’s Marcus that’s the first one to speak. 

“Been hearing your music,” he chuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” you blush. “I’ll keep it down–”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts with a smile. “I like it. It’s soothing. Better than hearing cars honking.” 

You nod and adjust the handle of your bag. “How were your days off?” 

“Peaceful,” he says. “Though, I think I ate a bit too much take out.”

You laugh quietly and before you could stop yourself, you ask, “Well, I make a really good pesto pasta and I was planning on making some tonight after I get home from work. Would you like to come over?” 

Marcus clears his throat. It’s as if life is throwing this fully on his lap. He’s trying to tell himself no no no, that something like this can’t happen again. He doesn’t want to open himself up to the possibility of getting hurt again, but the way you’re looking at him with your big, hopeful and excited eyes has him rethinking that maybe this could be good for him. That maybe you could be good for him. 

“Oh, that would be–” Marcus bites his lower lip. “I don’t know when I’ll be back home. I usually have late nights.” 

“That’s okay,” you say softly. “I’ll pack you a plate anyway.” 

The elevator doors open and Marcus extends a hand out for you to step inside first. You smile over at him and walk inside the elevator, pressing the button for the parking garage. Once he steps inside and the doors close, Marcus looks down at you. 

“That’d be real nice, thank you.” 

“Well, you did help me move my big ass bed into my apartment, so it’s the least I could do.”

Marcus laughs. “You really need a bed that big for someone as tiny as you?” he teases.

“Tiny?” you pout playfully, but a quiet giggle leaves your lips. “I like having space.” 

“You move around a lot in your sleep?” 

You blush again. “Well, sure, but also for other reasons…”

Marcus’s eyes widen and he realizes what you’re insinuating and it’s now his turn to blush. “Makes total sense. I’d want that much space too.”

You bite your lower lip and look up at him. You’re so attracted to him and you’re trying to tell yourself that there is no way someone like him would be single and yet, here you are telling him that your bed is so big because you like having the space for sex. How embarrassing, you think to yourself. You’re so deep in thought and regret that you don’t hear Marcus speak. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Did you hear me?” 

“I’m sorry,” you laugh nervously. “What was that?” 

“It’s okay. I just asked if it’s your first day today. At the school.”

“Oh!” You nod, grateful that he changed the subject. “Yeah, it is. I’m excited.”

Then, the elevator doors open and Marcus is the first to step outside. You follow and look up at him, not wanting the conversation to end. 

“Well, I hope you have a great first day then,” Marcus says with a smile big enough that his dimple appears again. 

It makes you smile in return. “Thank you, Marcus.” 

“And I like the outfit. It’s cute.” Marcus winks and then walks in the opposite direction to where his car was parked. 

You bite your lower lip and watch him walk away before he disappears around the corner. You’re sure that you’re so pink in the cheeks because of your interaction with Marcus and while you’re excited for your first day at school, you’re also excited for when you could see him next. 

—

You’re exhausted by the time you get home, but the tiredness doesn’t even compare to the excitement you feel when you realize that there’s a possibility you could be seeing Marcus again. Your first day at work was busy, but it was always such a joy to be able to teach young kids and kindergartners always kept you on your toes. Having worked at a public school for most of your career, teaching kindergarten students at a private school was a little different. The class size was much smaller and you were able to establish your own curriculum and get as creative as you wanted.

You change into a pair of light gray lounge shorts, a white tank-top, and a black oversized cardigan. You pour yourself a glass of white wine, turn on some music, and then step out on your patio, leaning against the railing as you look out at your view. The sun is beginning to set and there’s a slight chilly breeze that makes you wrap your cardigan tighter around your frame. You only stay outside for a few more minutes before you head back inside to begin making dinner, setting aside a plate for Marcus. 

The boxes are still scattered around your apartment, but you had moved it around to make it easier to walk around. You’re already on your second glass of white wine when you finish cooking, but as you’re about to put enough food for Marcus on the plate, there’s a knock at your door. It’s a little after six in the afternoon, so when you open it to see Marcus on the other side, you feel your heart flutter and the butterflies in your tummy begin to swarm around again. 

“Marcus, hi.” 

“Hey,” he smiles. “Does that invite for dinner still stand?” 

“Of course,” you bite the inside of your cheek and nod. “As long as you don’t mind the mess, come on in. I just finished cooking.” 

Marcus steps inside and smiles to himself. Even if your apartment isn’t yet complete and you haven’t yet fully unpacked, it feels a lot more cozy and homey than his own and you had only moved in just a few days ago. When you shut the door, Marcus turns around to face you and he takes note of what you’re wearing. Your shorts expose enough of your legs and the tanktop you’re wearing sits just above your waistband and he can see just a tiny sliver of skin. 

“Smells delicious,” he points out, clearing his throat. Marcus has to look elsewhere before you catch him ogling. 

“Thank you,” you smile. “Want a glass of wine?” 

“That’d be great,” he replies. Marcus removes his blazer and drapes it over the back of one of your chairs at your kitchen island counter. He folds the sleeves of his button down shirt to his elbows and watches as you pour two glasses of wine and then sets food onto two plates. 

“I’m surprised you’re home early,” you say. “I thought you said you usually have late nights.” 

Marcus shrugs. “Guess I was eager to try this pesto pasta.” 

“Really?” you ask, eyes hopeful. 

“And I wanted to hear how your first day went.” 

You blush and set the glass of wine and plate of food in front of him. He takes a seat where his blazer was draped and you lean against the counter instead. “That’s very sweet, Marcus.” 

“Just trying to be a good neighbor,” he chuckles. “But if I’m overstepping any boundaries–”

“Not at all,” you interrupt all too quickly. “With me being new to the area, it’s nice to have someone like you around.” 

“Yeah?” Marcus smiles. 

“Yeah, now let’s eat. I’m starving and my day was exhausting.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks. Marcus takes a few bites of the food and grins at the taste, looking over in your direction. He watches you eat quietly to yourself and he notices the way your body is slightly swaying to the soft music in the background. Your happiness and joy is infectious and he finds himself smiling more and more around you. 

“This is really good,” he says your name and smiles when you look up at him. 

“I’m glad you think so. And I’m also glad you were able to leave work earlier than usual.” You set your fork down and then take a sip of your wine. “What do you do, by the way?” 

“FBI,” he says casually.

“Wait, what?” 

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a special agent for the FBI. My department deals with stolen arts and antiques.” 

“Now that sounds like a fun job.” 

He shrugs. “Hence the long hours and late nights.” 

“That would make sense.” You then move to sit next to him, turning in your seat to face him and Marcus turns his body to face you as well. 

“Enough about me,” Marcus chuckles. “How was your first day?” 

You grab your glass of wine and let out a contented sigh. Your arm is resting against the counter as you look up at him. “I know I said it was exhausting, but it was so fun,” you smile. “The kids are great and I’m just so excited to be able to make my own curriculum and have all the creative freedom. Public schools usually just give you their curriculum and tell you to teach it without giving you much wiggle room to make it your own. So, this is a nice change of pace.” You look into his eyes and bite your lower lip. He’s staring at you and you realize that you’re talking a bit too much. “Sorry, I just– I love teaching.”

“Sounds like it,” he smiles. “But I like hearing you talk. It’s nice.” 

You blush again and look down at your lap. You can still feel Marcus’s eyes on you, but it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. Instead, it does the opposite. You like the fact that he’s looking at you and he’s doing it in a way that makes you feel… seen. And it has been a while since you had a connection with anyone from the opposite sex – you were always so focused on work and didn’t have much time to date. Besides, most of the men you have been with weren’t all that great anyway. 

“So, tell me more…” Marcus says. 

“About teaching?” 

Marcus nods. “Sure. Or anything really.” 

“Oh, we’d be here all night,” you laugh, finishing your second glass of wine. “And I’m sure you have an early morning tomorrow, like I do.” 

Marcus chuckles. “You’re right. We shouldn’t get too crazy on a school night,” he winks. 

You laugh quietly and set your glass down on the counter. “So, Special Agent Marcus…”

“Pike,” he finishes. “Marcus Pike.”

“Oh, my favorite roast.”

Marcus arches a brow and lets out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“You know, Pike Place? Medium roast?”

Marcus shakes his head.

“Coffee, it’s coffee.” You laugh quietly. “It’s the only roast I’ll drink, really.” 

“Good to know,” Marcus says. He makes a mental note to buy a roast of Pike Place the next time he’s at the store.

“So, Special Agent Marcus Pike,” you repeat. “Sounds so… Official.” 

Marcus chuckles and he leans back against the chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m glad you think so.” 

“And here I am… Just a teacher,” you tease. 

“Just a teacher?” Marcus smiles. “I wouldn’t be in the FBI if I didn’t have great teachers. I’m sure you’re a good one too.” 

You blush. “I try to be.” 

Marcus smiles and stands from the chair, grabbing both empty plates and bringing it to your sink. 

“Marcus,” you say, following him towards the sink. “Just leave it. I’ll handle it.” 

“You cooked,” he replies, looking down at you. “At least let me help clean up.” 

“Are you sure you’re real?” you laugh quietly.

“What?” Marcus smiles. 

“You’re just so… Nice.” You bite your lower lip and look up at him. You want to say so much more: Cute, handsome, sweet, thoughtful… but you stop yourself from saying what you truly want to say. 

“Like I said,” Marcus says. “Just trying to be a good neighbor.” 

“Well, you sure are going above and beyond,” you point out. “You’re setting the bar pretty high for future neighbors,” you tease. 

“Maybe I just like you,” he winks. “Now, let me clean up these dishes and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Marcus turns back around and begins cleaning your dishes. You bite your lower lip and walk towards the leftovers, stealing a glance over in your direction to see him standing in front of your sink. His shirt is stretched over his broad back and you want nothing more than to just wrap your arms around him. 

You grab a clean plate and pour half of the leftovers onto it. Wrapping it in foil, you then set it aside. Marcus turns around and dries his hand with a paper towel, pointing at the plate on your counter. 

“Is that for me?” he asks.

You nod. “Figured you could take this for lunch tomorrow.” 

Marcus smiles to himself. “You’re sweet, thank you.” He walks back to his blazer and drapes it over his arm as he reaches for the plate. “So, are you heading out again tomorrow at six?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Great. That’s usually the time I leave too. Would you like some company on the elevator ride down to the parking garage? You know, in case something happens, at least you have an FBI special agent with you,” he teases with a smile. 

You smile to yourself and before you can think about it, you reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. You feel his muscle flex underneath your fingertips and immediately drop your hand back to your side. “I think that sounds like a plan. I’d hate to be stuck in an elevator all by myself,” you smile. 

“Looking forward to tomorrow morning then,” Marcus smiles. “Thank you again for dinner.” 

“Thanks for coming over, Special Agent Marcus Pike,” you wink. You both walk towards your front door and you open it for him. He steps out and looks down at you, smiling big enough that his dimple reappears. 

“Good night,” he says softly.

“Good night, Marcus.” 

—

Since that night, you and Marcus had developed a routine every morning. Both of you would be out of the door by six in the morning and accompany each other on the elevator ride down to the parking garage. It was something you both looked forward to every morning and it was the perfect way to start the day. 

Sometimes, Marcus would forget coffee and you’d be right there to hand him a cup. And other times when you’d forget your coffee, Marcus prided himself in giving you a travel mug with your favorite roast: Pike Place.

—

prev. - next.

[bad268]

Hi! Could you please write a Joao Felix x reader fic with this prompt "I thought bringing you roses would be romantic." "You really got these for me?" Either Joao or the reader can say the first line whichever you prefer and of course you don't have to write it if you don't want to. Only found your fics recently but already really loving them!❤️

Red Roses (Joao Felix X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/FCB

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love! I'm glad you like them! Sorry for the wait <3)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1162

Summary: Red Roses (n): The most classic of them all, red roses symbolize passion and communicate love.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You were always known for sharing your affections through gifts. Anytime you saw something that reminded you of someone or you wanted to express gratitude for someone, you bought them something. It took a while, but you eventually learned that it was your love language.

When you met your boyfriend, Joao, you presented him with a single wildflower because the brightness of it reminded you of his smile. You told him that, and he immediately responded by asking you out. Now, you were going on three years strong.

Every once in a while, he would come home to random wrapped gifts or a bouquet (look at me go) of carnations or daisies on the table with a note. Those two flowers always remind you of him, so you can never resist, you said one time. Sometimes you were awake when he got there, but sometimes you were asleep or busy. He never judged, but he always waited to open the gift or read the note until you were awake or home. 

One day, he came back from an away game, and he was on cloud nine after the team won. It was the usual post-game feeling, he couldn’t help it. When he pushed open the door to your shared house, the lights were off, and there was no one there.

Now, he would not worry normally, but whenever you had plans, you texted him as such just in case he came home early. That’s the first red flag. Then he remembered telling you he would be back around this time, and you always try your best to be at the house when he comes home unless you have prior commitments. Even then, you communicate that with him. Red flag number two. Then, he goes into the kitchen, looking for the usual gift you leave for him, but there’s nothing. Not to say he always expected something from you, but it was something he always came to look forward to, especially after an away game. Third red flag.

That’s when he decided to call you. He pulled up your contact and immediately pressed call you. He could hear the ringing from inside the house. Your shared bedroom to be exact. Your phone was sitting on the bedside table, charging as it always is right before you go to bed. He double-checked around the house for you. The guest room, your office, the bathrooms, anything. He could not find you.

Now, he’s convinced you’re dead. 

He runs down towards the front door, and that is when he notices a small light coming from the backyard. Of course, you were out there, he thought. Why didn’t he think of that?

He gingerly opened the door to the back patio and there you were, standing and holding a bouget of red roses out for him. He slowly walked up to you, looking around at all of the lights you had set up in the couple of days he was out. When he reached you, he took the bouquet from your hands. 

"You really got these for me?" Joao whispered as he held one of your hands in his that was not holding the flowers. “Were you just waiting out here while I had a heart attack inside?”

"I thought bringing you red roses would be romantic," You laughed, “and were you inside this whole time? I thought you said you’d be home around 7?”

“I did,” He said, looking confused.

“It’s still only 6,” You trailed off. That’s when he looked at his watch, and yes, he was early. You were not even expecting him yet, so that would explain why you were not in the house.

“Oh,” he whispered to himself before changing the topic and pointing up at the twinkling lights, “Do you always sit outside when I’m gone? When did you set the lights up?”

“Only when I’m planning something,” You trailed off again as you pulled away from Joao.

“Don’t tell me the difference in flowers means you’re breaking up with me,” He gasped, dropping his hands and almost the flowers in the process. “Please, we can talk about this-”

“Maybe if you stopped overthinking everything and let me get to the punchline,” You chuckled as you grabbed his hand again, but still kept a little bit of space between you two. “You would know I’m doing nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, there’s a punchline to this?” Joao let out a breath as a nervous smile enveloped his features.

“There is, but you need to trust me,” You dragged out as you pulled away again. This time, he let you pull back with little resistance. “I need you to close your eyes.”

“Is this where I get killed? Or is this where you bring out a dog?”

“If I answer either of those, I will spoil the surprise.” He closed his eyes, but the look on his face was priceless. Guaranteed, he was thinking that he was getting a dog, but no. Well, maybe after this, but at this exact moment, no it’s not a dog. “Keep them shut.”

He closed his eyes tighter, if that was possible, while you ran off to the garden where you had some supplies for the surprise. You had not had the chance to get everything set up because he came early. You were sitting outside trying to figure out the layout, and just as you grabbed the flowers, he walked outside.

You grabbed the rose petals from the roses you had been growing and scattered them in a line leading to the center of the garden. You had everything ready there. The lights, the sign, and most importantly, the ring were there.

You were nervous, but you knew this was the next step. You were ready for it, so hopefully, he was too. You waited a minute, knowing he was impatient and would open his eyes without you even saying to. You expected this. 

Joao opened his eyes and saw the flower petal trail. Were those there when he first came out, he thought, and where did you go? They say that curiosity killed the cat, and he followed the trail to the middle of your garden. It was your ongoing project, and you took pride in everything that you grew in it. From flowers to fruits and veggies, your garden has it all. He never really went in it as it was your domain, so he found himself in awe of everything as he followed the trail.

At the end of the trail, he did not notice you at first. He was too busy looking around, but when he finally saw you, he froze.

There you were, on your knee, holding a ring out for him with a light-up sign behind you.

“Will you marry me?” It read. 

Needless to say, the roses were on the ground within a second as he ran to envelop you in a hug, whispering stings of “yes”s.

~~~~~

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