#Sky Force Trailer

[theomenmedia]

The Internet Reacts To The Trailer Of Akshay Kumar's Sky Force!

The Sky Force Trailer has taken flight! Check out the explosive reactions from critics, fans, and media on Akshay Kumar's latest aerial adventure. Will it be a blockbuster?

Read the full article right here: https://www.theomenmedia.com/post/sky-force-trailer-reactions-critics-fans-and-publications-weigh-in-on-akshay-kumar-s-patriotic-bl

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader (how they met, and their first night together.)

you were red and you liked me 'cause i was blue. but you touched me and suddenly i was a lilac sky.

warnings : lmfaooo this part always killing me but here it is....rafe being 90% of the warning part and the menace he already is, kidnapping, daddy issues, urge of sexualing your own self, slight of stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, dark!rafe, violence, mentions of threats, r being a missing girl, age gap, size difference, choking. rafe being mean to the reader. slight of daddy kink. sick attitude. dirty talk. attention whore. just minors DNI. (why it's bigger than my grocery list actually...). please carefully pay attention to the tags !!?

author's note : it's my first time writing a dark fic so don't expect too much 🙏🏿 you can read this without watching buffalo 66.

some girls were the trailer park princess, and others the queen of the gas station.

as the girl of the gas station, you were there all day on the road of these men much older than you, who had and drove pretty vintage cars who were literally bigger than you. those rich daddies surely had more money than your poor father who was always sitting behind the desk of his shop waiting for the night.

your father never gave you any attention, not even a look, he didn't care about what you did on your summer days as long as he never saw you. so you stayed all day at your playground queendom across from the pitiful, filthy motel where you lived. because here at least the men were looking at you.

of course they were looking at you, you always gave them something to look at with your tiny dresses that showed your naked thighs, your tits pressed together in that backless top. you always dressed in that soft and milky blue shades. as the sea and the sky, you were blue.

while their wives found you sick, you could feel their stares every time you leaned down to grab the keys that they forgot to give you each time. you could feel their eyes completely charmed by the way your summer dress rode up above your ass, and your panties stuck out.

fully bent over, you could hear the groans of these old men, the way they forced their hands themselves to not touch you when you wanted nothing more than to see them give in to the young temptation that you were.

you had a power in them and you loved to see them completely crazy.

you worked as a gas pump attendant. in reality, you did it behind your father's back because it allowed you to stay in the company of these men who only had eyes for you.

you always put on a show for them, and it always worked because you were irresistible.

but there was this guy every time, a regular customer, cold and short-spoken who never spoke to you.

he had a beautiful and luxurious car and you always wondered what job he did to drive such an incredible vehicle, and to spoil you so much with all this money.

he never said thank you for your service. after all, you were paid for it. his eyes were blue as you. he could park and glare at you for hours, sitting deep in his seat, a cigarette stuck between his opened lips.

he was so much older than you, so much to the point it was indecent. when you had first seen him, you had melted like sugar.

as you were coming back from the ice cream parlor, your lips sucking that delicious vanilla ice cream, you sat on the edge of the gas station, right in front of his car, your legs completely spread, white cream melting and dripping between your thighs. he rubbed his painful boner through his boxer.

you were sick, you let him look at you with this completely perverted stare while you let chunks of ice fall into your cleavage.

his eyes were all over you, but this time it was different, because this time it was him who was thinking about you while touching himself. this time it was him who was sick about you , him who had all these furious ideas about you. he pumped himself so hard, biting his lips harshly. and you continued your depraved show, while he jerked off, his big cock shaked and leaked in his own hand, his thick and already experimented fingers moved around his length faster and faster, the sweaty and dirty sound of his balls slapping, the squeaking noises of his chair, his arched back making the chair shaking. you thought of the veins of his dick engorged of blood pulsated against his hefty strength. that was enough to make you fully wet.

you wanted nothing more than to make this old man reach for you. but the problem was, you were too young and naive to know how mad he was, and what he really wanted to do with a pretty doll like you.

you stood up when you finished your ice cream, putting your dress back on neatly, and leaned down, leaning your porcelain princess arms over his car window.

you shuddered when he spread his cum on your face without any warning, smeared the remains of vanilla ice cream over your sloppy lips gloss with lick of drool.

he pushed his big thumb against your little mouth, pushed it into an o shape, and you closed her to start licking up the drops of his cum.

but like every time he came here, he never spoke to you. you had just seen the car leave, while you still had the taste of him on your lips. it was rude.

the next day, your father sent you out to do some groceries on a sweltering hot summer day, tired of seeing you around doing nothing. what he didn’t know was that this was probably the last time he saw you. and even shoupe that you had seen earlier in the morning, and who had told you to be careful, something with a killer around.

when you were done with the grocery, you started walking through the empty parking lot.

you thought you were alone, even though there were a few empty cars.

but it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that you were going to regret.

“didn't shoupe tell you to be careful this morning, sweetheart ? because i'm pretty sure, he did. ”

you screamed when the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing your little ragdoll body against his chest much stronger. the stranger quickly covered your mouth, and bruised your pretty lips with violence without any caring, shoved down his fingers between them to the point that you almost choked with your own breath and saliva.

“ you hurt..me…! ” you tried to say with a lot of difficulty, as his firm grip crushed against your breasts.

“ not yet actually, doll. but i promise, i will if you continue to fight. so beware, or i will fucking kill you. not a threat, sweetheart. it's a promise. “ and you knew that even god couldn't save you at this time.

you tried to bite him, but your teeth barely touched his skin. his lips hovered above your ear, you could hear his deep older voice warned you.

" bite me one more time, and i will break you. i love wrestle with you little girl, but i think you will really hate the way i fight. because when daddy fight sugardoll, he kills. and tiny things like you are so easy to wreck. and you dont want to die today, right ? you're too young for that. do you got it ? nod if you got it, yes. smart baby, understand easily that she needs to listen and not fucking run away. ”

his strength was heavy. you had stopped resisting a few minutes ago, even when he put you in his car.

he started driving, with a smirk, he looked in the rearview mirror before telling you.

“ what's the matter, sugardoll ? don't want to put a show for me, anymore ? ”

he had taken you to a shitty old motel down the road, where no one would be able to pick you up here. you knew he was intelligent, you knew it because you understood that every time he came to see you, he tried to learn more about you, but not to know you no, but to know when would be the right time to kidnap you. you knew it because he had stalked you carefully.

he had tried to tie you up while you tried to struggle one last time. but he had grabbed your jaw so violently that you felt your face shiver in his hands. “one more move, and i’ll show you how dolls are really treated, how i have no fucking bother to kill a tiny thing like you. ”

“i’m not going to run away.”

"i know.” he shushed you with a sick evil smirk. “ but it's not because you don't want to, sugardoll .but more because you can't.” he said, while releasing your jaw.

“ that's the small but important difference. i kidnapped you. do you even know what it means ? "

you started to cry, tears running down your cheeks.

“ you want a real reason to cry? fine. i can do that for you. i kidnapped you but you want to know the big part of all this? is that no one will come for you. your father doesn't love you , and that's why you work in this stupid gas station. you love the attention of these men so bad that you feel obliged to sexualize yourself to feel desired but me, i wanted you the first time i saw you. i let you do it, i let you play with them, but now it's all over. since i own you, this game is fucking over. ”

“shoupe will come after me ! ”

“but maybe you won’t be around to see it anymore.” he looked at you, and shushed your tears, while staring in your wet eyes. “ yes, i really like when you give me those tears, cry to me, little girl i'm the only men that really got you. ”

you glared at him as if he had fallen from the sky.

“ but now you have to be careful, don’t get on my nerves. i know it's hard for you, but don't do stupid things. ”

he placed your hand on his lower back, where you had felt the metallic coldness of the gun. and you shivered.

"yes, you got it. don't ever get on my nerves.”

“ how can i get on your nerves ? you don't really seems like a bad guy. more like a sweet guy ? ”

“ i'm not. and i'm not trying to be so watch your mouth. “

“ but i really think you are. can i hug you ? ”

“ try it, doll, literally try it. just try to touch me, i dare you. and i bet you will never tell me i'm the sweetest guy again. ”

“ can you at least bathe me ? ” you asked seriously.

“ jesus, do you think i'm your slave or whatever ? do you forget which position you are in ? in the captive one. so do not ask me those stupid things again. and don't try, no, never try to run away because, i can promise you that when i will find you, it will not be a pleasant time for you. and not even a little, but to the point, you will ask me to kill you. and i will be in a mood to accept your request ? yes, me. ”

you nodded as the kind and little girl you are who cannot argue against this tall man. he released your small face, and you were bathing alone. while you were taking your bath, alone in the tub, you heard rafe on the phone without being able to understand what he was saying but after that call, he left the room.

you had decided to buy some food with the little money you had at the food and drink vending machine.

with a happy smile, you went back up, hoping to please him. but you had found him on the chair in front of the TV.

“look, what…”

“i think you’re really nice. but not at your own good, sugar. ”

“ i just wan…”

“ get on the bed, now. ”

he couldn't help but relaxing when he saw how your blue dress was so tiny, already showing your soaked underwear.

" no whining. " he said as he shoved himself deeply in your tight abused cunt, your ragdoll body pressed down in the mattress, his thick stronger arms hugged your small waist, while thrusting harder and harder, your walls clenched around his fat cock. you can felt the size growing bigger in your wettering pussy, as he turned you into a real crybaby, tears flowing down your cheeks. you were caged by his beefy and muscular body on the bed, gasped on the edge. “ you wanted to act like a big girl ? then take it like a big girl. no fucking whining, i'm just giving you what you want. ”

he was literally buried inside you, snapping your hips, moving in and out. the atmosphere was hot, you felt the heat, there were trails of saliva around your mouth. “stop whining babydoll, daddy is not at his worse actually. and you don't want to see this happen.” you wanted to hate him but it was like you appreciated him being so mean to you, your pussy was dripping, your fluids drenching him, your sticky walls surrounded his girth. " yes, that's it. pull up some juices for daddy, make it easier for him to destroy you. "

everytime you runned away from him, he lifted your head with a grunt, and with a wild thrust inside of you, making you drip even more as his glistening tip reached your spot, the dirty and wetness sound of his moves echoed in the room, your body trapped against his taller one.

with a hand on your throat, you were arched to the point where he could see your wetted eyes rolled up. "try to run away again, and you will have the fucking pleasure to be a momma, as well as a missing girl. i'm not asking you to take my cock better.” he said with a threat. “ no, i'm telling you to do it as your fucking job. ”

all teary, you could bet that rafe didn't know how big he was for telling you this. you were trying your best actually. he was rutting in you, holding your tiny size with one big hand, getting so feral everytime he saw your small body twitching when he pushed himself further. your moans were loud, as your squirted more than one time on him, your dripping walls clamped his hard cock. even when your third orgasm flowed against your bulging pussy, creating a mess at the surface, he continued.

" you know sugardoll, you better work faster for my cum, because i will only stop when i will see how creampie your pussy is for my dick.”

he stuffed your puffy messy cunt, while your pumped his fingers who slidded deep down in your throat, your warm and bullied tongue fighting to not dropped them.

you slobbed more with the overstimulation. you felt like this man was insatiable. rafe loved to see you, his sugardoll in pain, taking so much for him.

when he finally stopped teasing you, and fighting himself to not cum, and clearly toying you, he exploded, making you cried out. all your body was filled with spasms.

you expected something from rafe when he pulled out, a little soft spot, or at least, just one look but he just went to the bathroom. alone.

you expected him to be sweet for you, like the sugar you were for him. and you knew, that you will work for this later.

when he came back, you looked at him, always attracted by his charisma, the way he made you felt so tiny by his big size, the way he was old enough to make you feel like a little girl, just the way his raised voice made you feel so small.

“ can i sleep with you ? ”

“ whatever. just don't touch me. ”

“ you're not gonna be my big spoon ? “

“ what the fuck is this ? i'm not gonna be your spoon. jesus, can you just sleep and not ask for any stupid things that you think i will do because you're already so obsessed with me ? and give me your hands. ”

he tied them up on the bed with your little blue ribbon.

“ just in case you think you can escape me. ”

“ i can't sleep like that ! ”

“ i fear it's not my fucking problem, sugardoll.”

“ fine. i will talk and talk all night. ”

“ i can fuck you all the night too. but one of us will not survive this. so stop being so damn annoying. ”

“ what if i want to pee in the middle of the night ? ”

“ you're strong enough to hold it. and you fucking better be strong enough to hold it. ”

“ why are you so mean to me ? why you kidnapped me ? ”

“ sugardoll, listen to me. look at me, yes. eyes on daddy right now. i swear, and you need to listen carefully because i will tell you once, just once, so your dumby brain need to pay attention, if you're talking another time, even if i see your lips moving, just a twitch, i will put my dick right in your mouth, making you suck it for without a break until the sun rises again. and i can promise you that after, you will never talk to me because you will never be able to open that mouth again. do you got it ? nod your head if you got it, doll.”

and you nodded.

as a doll, you were conditionned to listen to your owner, even if he was so mean to you. but you were as soft as sugar, always melted around, already thinking he was the best guy around.

“ sweet dreams, sugardoll. ”

i promise one day i will write something very good, just give me a chance. i think the only sweet thing in this work, it's rafe calling r " sugardoll ", he's so mean please 😭😭 i think i make him a little too dark to the point, i'm questionning about how he can be sweet to the reader now ????? but i guess, it's part of the game. tysm @bunnyrafe and @fae-of-prey me a lot !

[hairmetal666]

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."

[rafesangelita]

♡ when an unexpected tornado makes landfall, you find yourself taking shelter with none other than rafe cameron himself. the problem? you two can’t leave until help arrives. with half of the town torn to shreds, and hundreds of people either missing, injured, or dead, who knows how long that can take?

warnings: enemies to lovers (barely lol i’m just dramatic), implied age gap, flirty banter, sarcasm, angst, mentions of death, probably inaccurate descriptions of bad weather and tornadoes (i researched the best i could lol), forced proximity, sexual tension, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie

a/n: i watched the movie twister (1996) and instantly thought of this pairing. watch this fic’s trailer/moodboard video here !

wc: 2.8k

“yeah.. well i better get going then since you so kindly asked rafe to head on over here.” you rolled your eyes, twirling the ends of your hair as you held the telephone between your cheek and your shoulder. “sweetheart, i just don’t want you to be by yourself when that ugly storm hits, that’s all.” you hummed. as if on cue, a flash of lightning lit up the sky in the distance.

“i have to go, love you. tell auntie i miss her and i hope to tag along with you to see her next time.” you chirped, hanging up once your dad said; “will do. love ‘ya.”

it was raining cats and dogs by the time rafe showed up, his white t-shirt soaked all the way through. “you didn’t have to come, you know.” rafe’s hair was dripping wet, the water droplets running down his skin as he leaned against the doorframe. “yeah, i did. your father trusts me for a reason.” your eyes trailed down the column of his neck, an amused smile playing on his lips when he caught you staring.

“i don’t need you to be here with me.” you crossed your arms, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know that, m’just doing what your old man asked me to do.” rafe noticed you always had to clarify you could do something on your own before letting someone else take over, so he made sure to always acknowledge that fact in order for you to never feel less than. slowly, you moved to the side, allowing rafe to come in.

“would you have sent me back home in the rain like that?” he laughed, locking the door behind him. “i was thinking about it..” you looked back, your skin flushing once you realized how close he was. “don’t you think you should change into a pair of jeans or something? you never know if we’ll have to run outside to the storm cellar.” you looked down at your nightdress, and then back up at rafe who looked like he was fighting off inappropriate thoughts in his head.

“no, i don’t think so. i’m quite comfortable if you couldn’t tell.” you winked at him, laughing to yourself when you heard him curse under his breath. “alright.. well, i guess we could relax until we hear something on the radio.” you settled in your little corner by the window, watching rafe as he changed the radio to the news station. his clothes were still wet, his skin glistening with the moisture.

deciding it would be rude to leave him like that, you snuck upstairs to your father’s room for an old pair of jeans and a flannel. “here.” you held the clothes up to him, “you could dry off in the bathroom.” rafe hesitated for a moment, ultimately deciding to accept your kind gesture. “alright. call me if you hear anything.” his fingers skimmed your own as he took the articles of clothing from you.

“and don’t sit by that window, either!” he shouted down the hall. you waved him off, taking a seat at the kitchen table while you stared outside. the storms during the summertime were extra vicious, the thunder being loud enough to rattle the walls. surprisingly, there hadn’t been any tornadoes yet, but that was something one couldn’t get comfortable with the idea of. the tornado siren system in town is so delayed, you know a twister has already made landfall once it blares.

“just coming in, folks! we’ve received some phone calls reporting hail and get this!— a funnel cloud! start herding your animals indoors if you haven’t already, and stay home, there may or may not be debris flying in your area.”

“rafe, we have a funnel cloud!” you jumped up, turning the volume up on the radio. rafe ran out of the bathroom, his jeans hanging low on his hips. oh. “are the horses in their stalls?” he was shirtless, chest rising and falling as you nodded dismissively. “cows in the barn?” you hummed, tearing your eyes away from his v-line. “go get in the cellar, do you or your father need anything important before a tornado sweeps through here?”

you nodded frantically, catching the keys he tossed your way. “we both have emergency bags in our closets.” you grabbed your throw blanket, wrapping it around yourself before rafe yelled at you to go. slipping on your boots by the back door, you wasted no time, running out to the middle of the field where the cellar was. with the rain coming down so hard, and hail pounding the ground around you, you whimpered when you looked down and saw at least twenty keys on rafe’s key ring.

“what the fuck!” you shouted to yourself, scrambling to find the key that fit. “come, on!” you cried, pulling on the metal handles as hard as you could. rafe came running full speed, a ‘why aren’t you in, yet?!’ falling from his lips. “you give me a shitload of different keys and expect me to try each one?!” you shoved him, moving out of the way so he could open the wooden doors.

you looked down at the bags rafe bought, your heart dropping when you saw the wrong one. “wait— rafe, that’s not the right bag.” you panicked, looking back at the house. “yeah? well you had like three in your closet so i assumed it was the biggest one.” you shook your head, booking it towards the back door as rafe shouted after you. “hey— y/n, get back over here!” he chased you down, grabbing your wrists as you thrashed against him.

“i need that bag, rafe! it has the only thing i have left of my mom.” you cried, still trying to get out of his hold. rafe met your eyes, a knowing look passing over his face. “okay, i’ll grab it but i need you to go back to the cellar and keep trying those keys.” without another word, you nodded, going back and doing as he said. thankfully, the doors opened on the first try. you laughed, your joy short lived when you realized it suddenly stopped raining.

it was no longer windy, the air eerily still before you heard the haunting sound of the tornado siren. “rafe!” you screamed, “it’s here!” you jumped into the cellar, motioning for him to run faster. “move over!” you yelped when he launched himself inside, falling to the cement flooring with a groan. you were quick to close the doors, locking it shut with a heavy duty lock before you rushed over to check on rafe.

“are you okay?” you helped him up, the flannel he once wore now long gone. “yeah, yeah.” he nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. rafe moved your hair out of your face before he checked you for any scrapes or bruises. “are you?” you muttered a ‘yes.’ as you backed away, your fingertips hot against his bare skin. “here. ‘didn’t know which one so i just grabbed all’em.” you sighed in relief, thanking him.

“it’s gonna be really bad, an EF-5.” a shiver went down your back at the revelation. the last EF-5 tornado that tore through your town was the same tornado that took your mother all those years ago. “oh, god..” you whispered to yourself, pacing back and forth as rafe dusted himself off. “don’t worry. we should be just fine in here.” he lit up a nearby lamp, the dim light flickering against the walls.

“are you cold?” he sat you down in the corner, wrapping his arms around you as he eyed the shelter doors. “you don’t have to do that..” you pulled away slightly, making rafe pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “would it really hurt you to accept some help, some comfort? we’re in the middle of a tornado for crying out loud!” you swallowed thickly, both of you jumping at the sound of a loud bang from outside.

the doors rocked against the metal frames, a scream leaving your lips when the doors flew off the hinges. “shit!” rafe shielded you, your eyes screwing shut at the whirlwind of debris falling into the cellar. you unintentionally clung onto him, your nails digging crescents into his flesh. “it’s okay, i got you.. i got you.” he whispered the last part, his voice making goosebumps rise across your skin.

you kept your head buried into his chest until the tornado passed. it wasn’t until it was dead silent that you pulled away from him, your awkward position making your cheeks heat. there you were, straddling his lap with both thighs on either sides of his hips with one of his hands cradling your head, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist. he was still holding onto you despite the storm being over.

“rafe?” you tapped his shoulder, “it’s gone.” you pulled away first, his arms falling to his sides as you gazed up at him. he stared at you for a moment. “right.” he cleared his throat, tapping your thigh as an indication to get up. you looked around, kicking the debris out of the way before gasping at the sight of the blocked cellar entrance. “well that’s great.” rafe walked over to the telephone on the wall, dialing for help.

“hello? uh, no— no injuries, s’just me and another young lady down here at y/l/n’s ranch are trapped here inside the cellar. yes, i’m sure we’re stuck, ‘looks like a tractor tire just wedged itself inside. yes sir i understand, alright thank you.”

“what did they say?” you chewed your lip nervously. rafe scoffed. “we’re not their priority right now. they’ll send someone out here as soon as they can.” he sighed taking a seat on a nearby stool. picking up your bags, you placed them on the wooden table in the corner. “do you by any chance have a shirt in there?” you shook your head, laughing to yourself. “you could do without it.”

rafe smiled, tonguing his cheek as he stood up. “oh, really, you think so?” you felt the heat of his body behind you, the urge to back into him and feel him against you was overwhelmingly strong. “yeah.. it’s not like i don’t see you parading around here shirtless all the time, anyways.” you shrugged, opening the bag with your valued belongings. “so, you do watch me.” you froze, knowing he’s caught you.

“cool it, cowboy.”

checking to see if the folded up photo of your mother was still in its small pocket, you smiled softly as you traced your fingers over her beautiful face. “would you like to see a picture of my mom?” at this, rafe stepped closer, his chin resting in the curve of your neck as you both inspected the image. “she’s beautiful,” he whispered, “you look just like her.” you sniffled, letting rafe run his finger tips up your arm.

“she died from the last EF-5 tornado that hit town. my father had gotten both of us to the cellar but she ran out last minute to get our family photo album..” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “and she just never made it back.” you shuddered. rafe rubbed circles into your skin, his breath tickling the side of your face. “did you find it? the photo album i mean.” you turned around, blinking up at his, very handsome, face.

“yes. it was just right outside the doors.” rafe took the picture out of your hand, placing it back in your bag before stroking your chin with his thumb. “you’re strong, you know that? sometimes a little too strong.” both of you huffed out a laugh. “i know you’re smart, i know you’re ambitious, i know you’re capable..” rafe’s hands rested on your hips, “but can you please just shut your brain off for one second and let me take care of you?”

you gasped when he hoisted you up onto the table, his lips finding yours before you could protest. he was eager, the weight of his body making you melt into his touch. you welcomed him between your thighs, your eyes fluttering shut as he started leaving kisses down your jaw to your chest. surrendering to rafe was so much easier than you liked to admit, his strong calloused hands roaming your body as if you’d disappear into thin air if he left any part of you untouched.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you have no fuckin’ idea..” he grounded himself against your clothed cunt, his eyes snapping open at the sensation. “just look at you.” he marveled, your nightdress now pooled around your waist. “you’re so beautiful.” you kept your eyes on him as he backed away slightly, his fingertips hooking inside the waistband of your panties. “i don’t want to wait.” you were breathless when he ripped off the flimsy material.

“i’ll never make you wait.” he spread your thighs, his cock jumping at the sight of your pretty pussy. “holy.” he sucked in a breath, eyes darkening. “don’t stare at me like that!” you laughed, your cheeks flushing at his expression. you couldn’t help but attempt to shut your legs, suddenly feeling exposed as rafe’s jaw clenched. “don’t get shy on me, now.” he teased, running a thumb between your folds.

you bit your lip, eyebrows knitting together as he took himself out of his jeans. “feel what you do to me?” rafe grabbed your hand, wrapping it around his length. he was big. huge even. “please,” you whimpered, “i need you inside me.” embarrassingly enough, rafe felt like he could cum from those words alone. “i thought you’d never ask.” he winked, hovering above you as he tapped your swollen clit with the head of his cock.

jumping at his ministrations, both of you moaned as he entered you slowly, his mouth hanging open as he watched you greedily take him all the way to the base. “oh, my fuck—” rafe’s head fell on your shoulder, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you had never felt this full before, the intimacy of having rafe’s body on yours, his fingers running through your hair as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear was enough to make your head spin.

with your hand finding the nape of his neck, you cried out when he grazed that soft spot inside of you. “shit— i’m sorry, did i hurt you baby?” you shook your head, using your other hand to cup one side of his face. “no— mhm fuck!” you clenched around him, “feels so good.” rafe groaned, pulling you into another kiss. “you’re taking me so well..” he pulled up your nightdress, exposing your tits before taking a bud into his mouth.

“rafe!” you mewled, the sensation unfamiliar but so, so good. “wearing this short little thing.. you wanted me to do this to you, huh?” he smacked your clit, making a squeal leave your lips. “yes!” tears were pricking at your eyes, the pleasure so intense and heavy in your tummy you couldn’t do anything else but make pathetic noises as he took you for all that you had. nothing could possibly get better than this.. or so you thought.

bringing his hand down to your soaked cunt, your eyes widened as he started rubbing hard circles on your clit, your thighs shaking at the penetration. “oh, god!” your back arched off of the table, and into his chest, his skin warm and clammy against yours. rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you up for you to watch the way he slammed into you. he was glistening with your slick, the wet squelch of your pussy echoing in the small space.

“rafe?” you looked up at him, both of you locking eyes. “cum inside me please.” rafe’s hips immediately stuttered, your orgasm washing over you as he cursed through gritted teeth. “those are dangerous words, darlin’.” he pulled you against his him as you shook and trembled in his arms, rafe’s seed spilling into you. a single tear drop fell down your cheek, the side of his face pressed against his skin.

“you’re perfect.” he kissed the crown of your head, both of you watching as he slowly pulled out. “fuck, i’ll never get tired of this.” he pulled up his jeans, getting a change of clothes for you out of your bag. “who said we’re doing this again?” you arched a brow. rafe gave you a look, both of you smiling at each other. “here. i don’t want anyone else seeing you in this nightdress.” you quickly changed into the jeans and oversized t-shirt he gave you.

“i hope help comes soon.. i just want to see if our house is still standing.” rafe hugged you, sitting you down near the table. “our house?” he loved the way that sounded. “yeah.”

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went—like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Eddie’s vaguely aware that his finger is now actually hurting, but he can’t seem to make him self stop gnawing on the fleshy bit next to his nail. It hurts, but feels kind of good. If he goes much longer he’s probably going to taste blood.

His mating gland itches like fuck, and gnawing on himself is better than scratching at it.

The scent of himself is becoming insufferable.

Eddie’s not a masochist or whatever, he doesn’t like, enjoy pain, or anything like that, but the finger chewing is kind of nice. His stomach gurgles unpleasantly but he can’t tell the difference between nausea and hunger.

He decides to go and try and find Steve, make him earn his pay, or whatever.

Steve’s walking laps of the lounge, making a wide birth of Eddie’s gaudy sofa, following the edge of the massive rug that practically fills the room, just a slither of wooden floor left at the edges. He’s looking down at his phone, it dings, and Steve says something fucking unintelligible. Another positive noise, and Steve does a little fist pump to himself in celebration, it’s possibly the saddest fucking thing Eddie’s ever seen.

Another tinkling noise, and Eddie vaguely recognizes the noises that green owl makes when it’s trying to force you to learn something.

Steve finally spots him, coming to a slow halt, “sorry, did I disturb you?”

“You’re real disturbing Steve, but I think I’ll make it. What are you doing?”

“Trying to learn some Italian,” he shrugs, “always wanted to go.”

Eddie shrugs back vaguely, “it’s hot. Ice creams good, I think it’s pretty.”

“Yeah?” Steve perks up, “got any pictures?”

“I...maybe, actually,” Eddie slopes off back to his room, finding his laptop. Chris is pretty good at saving all his photos and back ups and whatnot, Eddie is pretty criminal at losing phones, dropping phones, throwing phones in a fit of pique. He finds his laptop eventually, almost surprised he doesn’t have to blow dust off the thing. Eddie switches it on, carrying it through the house as it wakes up.

Steve is sitting on the ugly couch, waiting patiently as Eddie comes back.

Turns out he’s got a lot of photos, like a lot. Stuff Eddie has forgotten about. He doesn’t exactly forget about the Italy thing, but he gets distracted, and Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He finds pictures of himself as a teenager. Pictures of himself with the guys, “Jesus. We look like kids,” and they do. They look so young in the early pictures.

Eddie finds pictures of himself with Wayne. Wayne at the trailer. Their first Corroded Coffin poster. Their first gig.

Probably not first. Definitely not their first; there are actually people in the audience.

Their first golden record. Their first platinum. The history flicks by so fast, pictures of people that Eddie can’t even name now. Crowds of screaming fans. Videos of fucking fancy hotel rooms from back when Eddie was still impressed with that sort of thing.

They trail off. Drunken and blurry.

“Sorry,” Eddie flicks back, ��got distracted. Pretty sure this is Italy.” Eddie doesn’t actually know, but the beach is beautiful and the sea is the same color as the sky and Chrissy is eating gelato out of a sweet bread roll; it tickles a memory, “Sicily,” Eddie adjusts, “yeah, Sicily.”

“Looks beautiful.”

Gareth with awful sunburn. Banks of squat little white washed houses with blue shutters. Fishing boats resting high on shingle. Eddie remembers the smell of that photograph. “I really liked it there, we had a villa, I think we had a few days off during a tour, or something.”

Eddie closes the laptop; he’s pretty sure this all happened before he fucked it up.

“Would you like to go back?”

“What, on tour?”

Steve shrugs, “on tour, or just to...go.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Maybe both. I like touring, but...maybe those big tours aren’t for me any more,” it’s the first time Eddie’s admitted that out loud. The stress and blur and five shows a week and sleeping on buses and on planes and never having a second to yourself. Doing the exact same performance again and again, some guy reminding you of where the fuck you are thirty seconds before you go out just so you don’t say hello to the wrong fucking city.

Thinking a line will get him pumped for the show and before he really knew it, he couldn’t get out of bed without it.

Steve breaks him out of his spiral, “you played your guitar lately?”

“Not since before- before being admitted.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but Eddie goes and gets the old acoustic anyway. He sits on the deck with it, just doodling with the strings. No real direction, snatches of song. Everything is still working fine though. He knows how to do this, it’s not been lost.

Steve brings him a cup of tea of all fucking things, and Eddie sips at it while Steve listens to him play.

“Go and have a bath.”

“Meep meep meeep meep, that’s what I hear Steve, when you talk, did you know that? You know that muppet, the Swedish chef? That’s what you sound like.”

“Pretty sure that was Beaker.”

“What?”

“The Swedish chef was more kind of hurdy gurdy chicken in a basket, sort of thing.”

“Why do you even know that?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his computer, “I used to babysit.” Eddie scoffs, but he doesn’t know if he believes it or not. Steve keeps typing, “go and have a bath.”

“Jesus you’re obsessed.”

“Don’t then. Makes no difference to me that I get to write in an email to your very good friend that your ass hasn’t seen a bar of soap for nearly forty eight hours.”

“Chrissy doesn’t give a fuck.”

Steve turns his head, looks at Eddie, raises his eyebrows like, the most minuscule amount. Like you’d probably need professional scientific equipment to detect how small of an amount Steve just raised his eyebrows.

Eddie sighs, “Chrissy is my friend and she cares about my well being.”

Steve nods, and goes back to his typing. Eddie wonders if it’s about him.

“What’s in it for me? Good behaviors get rewards right, as part of the training process?”

“Treating yourself well is it’s own reward,” Steve says without so much as missing a beat with his typing.

“Find that in a fortune cookie?”

Steve sighs, closes the lid of the laptop, and gets up.

It’s a repeat of the first time this happened, Eddie trails after like a lost puppy, and Steve runs his bath and Eddie gets in it. Steve cleans again, but not as long as last time, it’s only been a couple of days, Eddie hasn’t managed to make too much of a mess.

Eddie’s vaguely aware of Steve changing his bedding, he can hear it from where he is, the rustle of sheets, the lid of his laundry hamper. Eddie wonders vaguely how Steve changes the cover of that king size comforter all on his own, but quickly decides that it’s just Steve being good at everything.

“Come and wash my hair,” Eddie whines, just to be a bitch.

Steve huffs in the doorway, “what did your last save die of?”

“Nothing, he’s still alive and has stupid hair.”

“You wish you had my hair,” Steve grumbles, but he gets the stuff out of the cupboard anyway.

Steve puts a massive glass of water in front of Eddie. And an orange juice. And a coffee.

“Trying to drown me?”

“The nurse will be here at eleven, she’s going to check you over as well as take bloods. Drink, I’m already concerned she will have trouble getting anything out of you.”

They did have trouble, at the center, Eddie’s veins elusive under his pale skin. Some of them probably collapsed and abandoned ship after all the naughty things Eddie did. They ended up taking it from his foot more than once. Eddie didn’t like it, so he drinks the coffee, then moves on to sipping the juice.

Steve puts toast in front of him; peanut butter and sliced bananas. And so it goes on. Steve insisting on feeding him. Eddie’s loath to admit that he feels a little better for it.

The nurse has choppy copper hair and isn’t even remotely dressed like a nurse. She introduces herself as Robin as she’s putting the blood pressure cuff on him. Explains that she’s taking four vials of blood and they’re testing for everything. Tells him as she tightens that thing on his arm that he should make a fist. She says this might hurt after she’s already put the needle in. Tells him she’s weighing him before the final vial is even filled.

Eddie is left with a plaster on his arm and Robin is packed up before he even realizes what’s happening.

He sits there, bemused, on his own couch, wondering vaguely if she has a hundred other clients to get through today, because she was in such a fucking rush Eddie feels a little turned upside down by the whole thing.

He goes to look for Steve once she’s gone, but can’t find him anywhere.

Eventually he thinks to look outside, and when there’s no sign out back, Eddie looks out front.

Steve is sitting in the passenger seat of, what Eddie presumes, is Robin’s car. Both doors are flung wide open and they appear to be sharing a packet of chips. Robins laugh is like a braying donkey, Steve with his hand over his eyes like he can’t believe it.

Probably Eddie, what else is there to laugh about?

Eddie shuts the door.

Part Six

[cacoetheswriting]

dear stranger, | chapter two from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 5.2k

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, emotional hurt / no-comfort, eddie is a bit of an asshole, a little mutual pining, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

Eddie’s first interaction with you, a short conversation outside Benny’s one faithful Thursday evening, only solidified the idea of a potential relationship, but he was a couple of years older and coming from a completely different world to yours. Trailer trash, and whatnot. He simply didn’t think you’d be interested in him like that.

Instead, riddled with self-doubt, Eddie opted to go down the friendship route and being your friend was easy. 

Despite not sharing a lot of the same interests, the two of you always managed to find common ground and the conversation flow came naturally.

Eddie, in his fuck-the-patriarchy and everything-that’s-cool way, introduced you to a wide variety of hobbies which, in your world, were considered wildly out of the box: Dungeons and Dragons, Warhammer, all sorts of Anime, punk rock and heavy metal music. The list goes on.

Hoping to humanise your lack of interests aside from your social status, you taught the metal-head all things pop culture. Cue marathons of various seasons of different Real Housewives, making him read Twilight and asking him to choose Team Edward or Team Jacob, and judging celebrity red carpet looks.

There also appeared to be a few short things you both agreed on:

The colour blue sucks.

Lord of the Rings franchise is one of the best book to movie adaptations to ever exist.

Pizza is clearly the best food and can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Additionally, a debate arose one night to potentially include point four: Leia is a cute name for a girl. Eddie looked at you with those pretty brown eyes and smiled wide in agreement ‘cause even though you were still just a couple of kids, the potential of a future that saw your friendship blossoming, one way or another, excited him. However, the conversation happened when you were both quite high. Point long forgotten by the time the sun greeted the morning sky.

All in all, Eddie worshipped the ground you walked on. Back then, he would’ve done anything for you, you merely had to ask. The not-so-secret crush blossomed with every interaction and he swore if anyone ever dared to hurt the girl he told himself he couldn’t have, all hell would break loose.

How come, a hellish three years later, he’s the one doing the hurting? The question, of course, is rhetorical. He knows exactly what led to the breakdown of your friendship. That doesn’t mean however, he’s not completely riddled with guilt for how he just reacted to seeing you for the first time since the end of Senior Year.

His focus remains locked on where you’re after disappearing as his hand rubs the part of him you’ve just bumped, and Eddie swears he can still feel your arm against his shoulder. A tingle, an imprint, a ghost. His fingers curl into a fist against the material of his jacket and he eventually drops his head, sigh escaping his lips. Nancy is going to kill him for making you cry.

Upstairs, there’s a knock on your door. 

You quickly wipe any last tears that have trickled down your cheeks and call out to whoever is on the other side that it’s open. Robin reveals herself, head tilting to the side as she notices the miserable look on your face.

“Nancy is already crucifying him,” is all she says before wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug.

“She doesn’t have to do that,” you protest, resting your chin on her shoulder. “He’s got every right to be upset with me.”

“But the thing is, babe, everything we told you is true. Like, he does ask about you constantly, and he didn’t even have an issue with you coming this weekend when Nancy told him you accepted her invite,” she elaborates, pulling back from the embrace and leaning against a set of drawers.

“He’s just acting like a dweeb ‘cause you hugged Harrington first.”

You whine, a little too dramatically, while burying your face in your hands. It oddly feels therapeutic. Robin huffs out a laugh at your reaction, poking your arm to get you to look back at her.

“He’s never going to forgive me, Rob.” You sigh.

“Yes, he will.”

“How can he forgive me when he doesn’t want to listen to my apology? He practically said to pretend he’s not here.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “Honey, you realise that all you have to do is listen to his stupid-ass request?” She says it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The second you start giving him the cold shoulder, he’s gonna want your attention.”

And Robin was right, of course.

You didn’t notice it at first, fully understanding of Eddie’s request to steer clear from one another, plus dinner prep was a perfect distraction from his lingering presence.

Nancy tasks you with making the potato salad. A simple request and one you are happy to oblige. She positions you at one of the counters, your back to the kitchen island where Eddie is sitting nursing a beer. He’s messing around on Spotify, skipping through songs, and it takes everything you have not to comment about how he should just fucking pick one playlist and let it be.

The one person definitely unbothered by the constant switch in music is Argyle who fell asleep at the table. Body completely relaxed on the chair, head hanging backwards, and light snores escaping his parted lips as Rob tries to balance a stack of Pringles on his forehead.

Jonathan is Nancy’s sous chef, her helping hand, fulfilling every little request she has while preparing the rest of the grand meal. They’re giggling together and you can’t help but smile to yourself, thinking about how lucky they are to have found someone they feel so comfortable around. 

Eddie was that someone for you, the thought crosses your mind, sending a twinge signal to your stomach. The twist in your gut is a sort of pain comparable to slicing your hand open, and at that moment your gaze shifts to the knife in your hand, grip tightening. You’re frozen for a minute. Unsure how to continue with the salad when all you can think about is the boy behind you. The boy that wants nothing to do with you.

Yet, unbeknown to you, also the boy who immediately notices the pause in your movements. 

Eddie doesn’t act on it though. He thinks about it, only for a second too long because Steve approaches you first, briefly placing a hand on your back to gauge your attention, before leaning against the counter next to where you’re chopping potatoes. You smile at him. Eddie can see that it’s timid, small. Clearly there’s something on your mind and he feels guilty for most likely being the person that’s caused your dampened mood.

“How are you doin’?” Steve asks, crossing his arms across his chest, eyes glued to the side of your face.

“Good.” It’s not entirely true, but you know Eddie, as well as everyone else currently alert in this kitchen, can hear your conversation. “Delaying cutting these onions ‘cause I know they’re gonna make me cry,” you joke.

Steve chuckles. “Well, all you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.” He says before twisting in his spot and reaching for a chopping board. “I happen to be a pro at cutting onions.”

The light laugh that escapes your lips causes Eddie to roll his eyes. Not that you see his reaction though. You also don’t see how his grip tightens on the bottle of beer, or how his jaw clenches when Steve’s arm brushes against yours while you both work on the salad.

But despite the anger — the jealousy — bubbling inside of him, Eddie doesn’t stop listening in on your conversation with Harrington. In fact, he shuffles his chair closer, lowering the volume on the laptop by one. He can’t help himself. He’ll forever be invested in you, even if he says he’s not and that he doesn’t care. It’s all a pathetic lie to cover up the fact that he’s never quite gotten over you.

“So, how’s Vegas treating you? Bet it’s all parties and no responsibilities,” Steve nudges.

“God, I’d be disowned if that were the case,” you reply, chuckling lightly. You don’t tell him you’re sober, it doesn’t feel like the right time. “First year I was there, I worked. My dad scored me a reception job at his firm, so I saved a little cash and moved out on my own, just in time for the following year, when I started my degree.”

Steve hums, impressed. Eddie’s feeling proud, then a little sad because you got into college and he wasn’t there to congratulate you. Seemingly, no one from this group was.

“Gone into teaching, like you wanted?” Steve asks.

“Not entirely,” you pause briefly, “But what’s with the third degree? We’ve got all weekend to catch up.”

Harrington snorts out a laugh. “True,” he agrees with a smile, “I guess, you’re just such a mystery now. The usual social stalking doesn’t work ‘cause you haven’t updated anything in three years, and whenever I tried to call, you didn’t answer.”

You’re not sure what to say since he’s not wrong in his words, so you opt to say nothing at all. Steve seems to understand your reverence, nudging your arm with his own in the form of a silent assertion that he’s really not mad.

Eddie starts to feel guilty for being the one who isolated you from your friends, your support system. Though you never said it, he knows you left because of what happened at Chrissy’s stupid party. Ashamed of your actions and how they affected the group. Actions that were a result of his rash decisions.

“Fucking— Are you seriously going to listen to me spill my feelings for you, then try and jump into bed with fucking Harrington?!” Eddie’s yelling, arms stretched out as if he’s daring you.

The sound of Nancy clearing her throat forces the memory to freeze. Eddie glances up at the petite brunette, whose got one eyebrow arched as if to ask what the fuck he’s doing. He shrugs, taking another swig of his beer, then glances back down at the laptop and continues his not-so-secret eavesdropping.

“Tell me this, though,” Steve prompts, glancing at you, “are you happy?”

You pause your own movements, taking a moment to ponder his pretty loaded question. When you meet his brown eyes, you smile a genuine smile, surprising even yourself as to how easy it is to answer.

“Yes,” you state simply, “I’m happy.”

The screech of a chair being pushed back fills the air, causing both you and Steve to turn around, at the same moment that Eddie walks out of the kitchen. Nancy is quick on his heels, only flashing you an apologetic smile, and the entirety of the last twenty-odd seconds leaves you even more confused.

All throughout dinner, you notice how Eddie is oddly quiet, only chiming in when someone — not you — directly addresses him. No one comments on his unusual behaviour, though Robin shoots you some knowing looks from across the table every couple of seconds.

Then when the group agrees to move outside, while you get comfortable on the patio furniture, Eddie deliberately chooses the chair closest to the steps, as if he’s planning for a quick escape. He lights a cigarette, staring out at the lake, and your entire body is screaming to ask what’s on his mind, but then again, he’s made it quite clear he wants nothing from you.

So you decide to continue pretending his sullen mood isn’t affecting you.

“Merlot or Pinot Grigio?”

“Hmm?”

Steve’s at the door, a bottle of red and white wine in each hand. He lifts them up slightly, repeating the question, then waiting patiently for an answer. Although he doesn’t have to wait long because you quickly shake your head a firm no.

“I uh… I actually don’t drink anymore.”

Eddie’s ears perk up at your answer, though he doesn’t actually look in your direction. Still pretending to focus on the ripples in the dark water ahead.

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly. “Well, now we know why Nancy didn’t offer any with dinner. Assuming she knows?”

“She does.”

“Then I’m sorry for offering.”

“Don’t be,” you say and it’s true.

He goes back inside without another word, leaving you alone with Eddie. 

The silence is overwhelming and frankly, a little awkward. It’s odd to be so close to one another, yet feel as though you’re oceans apart. It’s also odd to have revealed this new and intimate detail about yourself, yet since it wasn’t said directly to him, Eddie might as well still not know.

You don’t know how to act, so you take out your phone.

There’s a text from your mom, ‘Really hope you’re having a good time, honey. Send some pictures, if you can.’

‘surviving ;)’, your fingers work across the keyboard, then you go into your album and select a photo of yourself with Robin and Nancy. The only one taken so far. ‘everyone says hi.’

‘Everyone?’

Your eyes flutter to where Eddie is sitting. He’s still looking at the lake.

‘almost everyone…’

As the three dots appear on the screen, your phone dings with the unmistakable sound of an Instagram notification. Your super secret secondary profile makes itself known, and you hold your breath for a split-second. But if Eddie heard it, he doesn’t say anything.

When you open the notification, the corners of your lips twitch upwards.

That, Eddie notices. Well, he noticed the sound too, but he’s not going to pry about your use of social media after pretty much telling you to fuck off earlier. His mind however, is running in circles. The metal-head knows you haven’t posted anything new on Instagram since you left Hawkins, so you must only be using the app for messaging, but who from your old life — that isn’t here this weekend — would be dming you at this hour of the evening? The second you smiled, at whatever the fuck you were after seeing on your phonescreen, well, Eddie wishes he handled your reunion earlier a little better because maybe you’d privy him to that information. He wants, no, needs to know who else you’ve been in contact with.

And he knows exactly who to ask.

A little too lost in your dm’s, you don’t notice Eddie put out the cigarette he’s been smoking and stump back inside. You don’t notice him approach Steve, mumble something in the guy's ear and point to his phone. You don’t notice them glancing at you through the large window, or whisper manically back and forth. You don’t notice Nancy joining in on the conversation, hands on her hips like a disapproving mom.

“She’s not in touch with anyone else,” she says and because she sees Eddie in particular is not buying whatever she’s selling, Nancy adds, “She’s got a second profile.”

Both boys are stunned, albeit only for a minute. Then the back-and-forth begins again. Questions arise. How long has Nancy known? Why doesn’t anyone else know? What’s the handle? Why not just use the old, original profile?

“It’s none of your business,” she tells them in a hushed tone of voice, “If she wanted you to know what is going on in her life, she’d post on the profile she created in high school, okay?”

Steve huffs, wine long forgotten, instead opting for something a little stronger. He pours four glasses of whiskey before motioning for Eddie and Nancy to take one, the last being for Robin who disappeared to talk to her girlfriend again. He takes a sip, liquid burning down his throat.

“I just don’t get the secrecy,” he says with a shrug.

With the glass pressed to her lips, Nancy looks out the window to where you’re sitting. A sigh escapes her lips. There’s a small smile present on your expression, focus remaining on your phone, and Nancy hates herself for being the person that’s ruined that, along with breaking the promise she’s made you about seven months into your time in Vegas.

She wanted to know how you were getting on. Considering by then you told her you weren’t coming back to Hawkins any time soon — one of the only texts you’d sent her since the time you left. The brunette girl wanted to know you were safe, happier. Calls weren’t going to work since you were barely replying to messages, and it’s not like at that point in time you were keen on letting the rest of the group know what you were up to, so your main Instagram account was out of the question.

Nancy suggested a second profile.

Then she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.

“There’s two things you should know,” she breathes, glancing between Steve and Eddie. “First thing’s first though, you need to fucking forgive her.” Poking Eddie’s chest, her expression is stern. “You’ve forgiven Harrington here, so the least you can do is have a normal conversation with her.”

“Nance—”

“Eddie, I swear to fucking Christ. If you’re actually incapable for swallowing your pride for one fucking second—”

The sound of the sliding door causes her to halt her words and the three of them turn their heads to where you’re now standing, wide-eyed and apologetic because it seems at first glance you are after interrupting a very important conversation.

“Sorry,” you say with a meek smile, “I just came to get a glass of water.”

And you don’t mean to eavesdrop when they start whispering amongst themselves as you fill a glass with ice. In your defence, however, they’ve never been good at keeping their voices quiet, and they’re no better now. You hear your name escape Eddie’s lips, then something about Instagram coming from Steve.

Oh.

Having filled your glass with water, you turn back to look at the three of them. 

To your surprise, the metal-head is already looking at you. His expression is hard to read, but regardless, it makes your heart skip a beat. It also makes you think that the only way for him to start trusting you again, he deserves to know what you’ve been up to these last few years — even by means of a now not-so-secret Instagram account.

So you call Steve’s name, not looking away from Eddie at first. When Harrington doesn’t react, in too deep with Nancy, you say it again, louder. He spins on his heel then, at the same time that you shift your attention in his direction. 

Sighing softly, you tell him to pull up Instagram and then you dictate the handle and although you’re watching Steve type in every syllable that escapes your lips, from the corner of your eye, you can see Eddie’s fingers also work the screen of his phone.

Proof of both their curiosities dings in your pocket. 

You quickly take out your own phone, silently accepting their follow requests while choosing not to comment on the fact that there were two: Eddie’s name gracing your notifications for the first time in three years. 

With a quick refresh, there in all its Las Vegas glory, is the last three years of your life.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy says, now standing in front of you, “They’re relentless little fuckers.”

“Hey!” Steve’s offence is melodramatic and Nancy just rolls her eyes at the boy, before linking your arm with hers and leading you back outside. Having one quick glance at your newly found account, Harrington follows quickly behind.

Eddie on the other hand is frozen in place.

He tries to keep a straight face as opens the first image, quickly scanning the caption, before focusing on the picture posted two days ago. Apparently you were in Fort Wayne, visiting your mom. There’s a smile on your face that he hasn’t witnessed since high school and his heart tightens thinking about how he’d do anything to be the reason for your happy expressions again.

Did you stomp all over his heart? Yes. Rationally, Eddie should hate you for that alone, not even mentioning how you flushed years of friendship down the toilet. And for a long, long while, he did. Eventually, the metal-head realised the hate was superficial because he was actually more angry with himself. 

“Your behaviour is fucking desperate.”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

That stupid party, and putting you in the position he did, all while you were clearly too drunk, was a huge mistake on his part. It wasn’t the right place, nor the right time. Eddie just thought you looked so beautiful that night, and the alcohol cruising through his own veins clouded his judgement.

Then you reacted the way you did. When Eddie found you in the downstairs bathroom of Chrissy’s house in the arms of Harrington, well, you both said some equally rude things in the aftermath. They came from a place of anger, but he could never actually hate you.

You left without a word, before Eddie got a chance to apologise for his shitty behaviour at the party. Before he got a chance to tell you that he doesn’t care that you kissed Harrington, or whether you feel the same way he does. All he cares about is being in your life.

Now, your life resides on a profile Eddie didn’t even know about until mere minutes ago. 

He’s scrolling, slowly. Taking the time to examine each photo, down to the comments left behind. Each image only adds to the ache in his chest. There’s experiences here he selfishly thinks he should’ve been a part of, as opposed to the people you’ve actually tagged. He’s known you for far longer than this dude Jax, who you seemingly went and got a tattoo with.

What hurts the most though, is seeing the proof of how happy you’ve been the last three years. How happy you’ve been without him in your life.

-

“So, babe, who the fuck is Jax?” Robin asks with a smirk.

Having been the last person to find out about your secret account, she was sure to take her time to tease you in retaliation. Starting light, with small jabs on the new wellness hobbies you’ve picked up over the years like hiking through the Nevada Trails Park, sunset yoga in the desert, and a new affinity for green smoothies. Then moving quickly to your new choice of friends, not judging them by any means, more expressing curiosity as to why these specific people replaced the group from Hawkins.

“Jax is a friend,” you answer simply.

“Looks awfully cosy for just a friend,” she teases, glancing up at you briefly before twisting the phone in Steve’s direction, to show the picture.

You roll your eyes ‘cause there’s really nothing going on between you and the boy in question, so the teasing you can take. You’re not ashamed.

“He’s great as a gym partner, honestly, he’s great for most boyfriend related activities, but he would, one-hundred per cent, make a terrible actual boyfriend.” You say with a soft laugh, sinking further into the cushioned seat as you further let your guard down.

Steve smirks. Satisfied. Clearly glad there’s nothing between you and Jax, though you don’t comment on his reaction. Instead, your gaze momentarily shifts to Eddie, who still hasn’t said a single word.

The brunette boy is staring at his hands. Fidgeting with the metal rings that coat his fingers. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about, and it takes everything you’ve got not to ask him. Is he proud of the person you’ve become? Or is his continuous resentment spiralling out of control, because maybe he’s wondering why you could change for those strangers, but couldn’t change for him? But that, you couldn’t even answer for yourself.

“So you haven’t been dating anyone?” Robin further probes into your new life.

When you glance back at the blonde, she raises a brow, and you know she’s only asking because she wants the same thing as you: some sort of reaction out of Eddie.

You shake your head. “No.”

But it’s Steve who reacts instead.

“Come on, sweetheart!” His tone is full of disbelief. “You mean to tell us that no one in Vegas tried to sweep you off your feet?”

You let out a soft laugh.

“They sure tried. I’m just not interested,” you answer with a smile, then reach for your glass of water, bringing the brim to your lips.

“Why?” He asks.

“Steve—” Nancy tries to cut in, aware of what you’re going to say next. Aware of the reason why you haven’t dated, and no, unlike everything else that’s happened since you’ve seen this group last, this decision you made not to date wasn’t because of Chrissy’s party.

“I uh…” You clear your throat. “I haven’t dated since Billy.”

The group goes silent. Suddenly it’s all really… awkward.

“Jesus, babe,” Robin exhales dramatically, “That’s like—”

“Forever?” You interject, trying to keep your tone of voice as positive as you can. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence. No one in the group is really sure what to say next, how to steer the conversation away from this topic. 

You glance at Eddie who, for the second time this evening and to your surprise, is already looking at you. Brown eyes full of compassion. They say more than words ever could and you’re suddenly feeling hopeful. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe you could be friends again. Maybe…

Though there’s still a lot of mending to do before any of that can happen. Starting with:

“Billy dying really fucked me up.”

Acceptance. Admitting your flaws, owning up to your mistakes. Making amends with the people that tried their very best to stand by you in the worst of times, even when you made it damn near impossible to do so.

“I kinda fell off the rails and I uh—“ You swallow your breath, gaze shifting from the brunette boy to the lake behind him. The sight of water soothing to your soul. “Well, I made some mistakes and I’m sorry. To all of you.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Nancy says quickly and the rest of the group nod along. Aside from Eddie, who is back to fidgeting with his rings.

One by one, everyone eventually says goodnight. Jonathan and Nancy are the first to go, citing an early wake-up excuse and reminding everyone the canoes are rented for eleven in the morning, so breakfast would be at ten. WIth that information in tow, Argyle checks out next. You learn how he hates the open water, so he’s hoping extra sleep will make him less nervous in the morning. Robin gets a call from Vickie. She says she’ll be back shortly but after she disappears, Steve jokes that the next time the blonde will be seen is breakfast. This leaves you with a less than desirable duo.

Steve and Eddie.

Silence stretches for minutes at a time. Out of some sick and twisted principle, you don’t want to be the first to leave because that might get misinterpreted as running away, and this entire weekend is about proving how you’ve changed. Plus you’re not going to give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you walk away twice in the span of one afternoon.

Luckily, awkwardness never seems to phase Harrington. Not for long, anyway.

He makes small talk, asks further questions about your new life, wonders if you are open to visitors and practically plans a trip out to see you in Vegas: sooner rather than later, as he puts it. He gets you to laugh on a few occasions and the sound comes naturally, no reservations or concerns.

You make note to apologise to him privately for everything you put him through the night of Chrissy’s party, although you already know he’ll tell you it’s no big deal because Steve Harrington has a heart too pure for this world. It makes you momentarily sick that you took advantage of his kindness in a moment of drunken despair.

“Okay kids,” Steve begins and stands, stretching, “If I tuck in for the night, will you kill each other? Or should I stay to play peacekeeper a little bit longer?”

“We’ll be fine,” Eddie answers shortly. The sentence being his first set of words in hours.

You exchange a glance with Harrington, who seems just as surprised as you by the metal-heads response, and offer up a timid smile.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say kindly.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Then he turns to address Eddie, “‘Night, Munson. Don’t be a dickhead.”

Eddie grumbles something under his breath, but you don’t quite make out the specifics. Instead, you watch Steve’s frame disappear into the lake house and once he’s fully out of sight, a sagging feeling settles in the pit of your stomach — what now?

Although, nothing happens. Silence settles around the two of you. Only the sound of the night, the woods, the water graces your ears and, despite the company, it all feels quite peaceful.

Eddie lights a cigarette. Hesitantly, he offers you one, avoiding your gaze as he holds out the box. You politely decline, further wrapping yourself up in your hoodie and sinking into your seat.

After a few more minutes of utter quiet, Eddie exhales, blowing smoke into the midnight air and finally looks up in your direction. You’re aware instantly, that his chocolate-button eyes are latched onto you. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head to meet his wide eyes then, surprising yourself, you offer him a small smile.

The metal-head surprises you too. For not only does he smile back, he says: “I’m sorry.”.

“You don’t—”

But he cuts you off. “I do. About earlier. I was an ass and yeah, I’m sorry.”

All you can do is nod. Not like you don’t believe him, you do. You know Eddie well enough to tell he’s being genuine. Unfortunately, a lot has gone down in the past and three years have passed since. Plus, only a few hours ago, he told you to practically shove your own apologies which can only mean he’s not really interested in having you back in his life. For that, you can’t blame him and as much as you’d want “I’m sorry” to fix things, it’s not that simple — you understand that now better than you did when you first arrived here.

You just need to get through this weekend, you remind yourself and slowly stand up, your own self-deprecating thoughts getting in the way of what you really want to tell him. 

Eddie’s eyes remain on you, as if he’s analysing your every move, which, unknown to you, he sort of is. This girl he thought he knew, now a mystery and it’s in part all of his fault. He’s aching inside because everyone else seems to click with you easily, like no time stole memories they’ll never get to experience. Steve cracking intimate jokes mere moments ago causing something vile to bubble inside of the metal-head.

An apology for his earlier comments is a good place to start rebuilding, that’s what Nancy said. He likes to think he listens to advice, even if he doesn’t think it’s good, so he did what his friend told him too and now he wishes he hasn’t. Even more so when you clearly don’t want to hear anything from him.

“I appreciate your apology, but we don’t have to talk about it,” you say matter-of-factly, “We don’t have to talk at all, just like you wanted.”

And Eddie can’t dig himself out of the hole he jumped into.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

story masterlist

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this story: @ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie

[msbigredmachine]

Co-Star (Roman Reigns)

Juliana “Juju” Hamilton, a celebrated TV star, and Roman Reigns, a former WWE icon stepping into his first major acting role, play star-crossed lovers on a hit series. But as they prepare to film their first sex scene, the lines between fiction and reality begin to blur.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Actress Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 4.5k

King, Season 1

Ramona Kane is the heiress to the Kane Hotels & Hospitality empire and the mastermind behind the biggest illegal arms syndicate in the West Coast. They call her ‘King’, because everyone thinks it’s a man calling the shots. Using the hotel chains as a front, she immerses herself in the dark, ruthless, cutthroat underworld to avenge her parents, aiming to become powerful enough to ultimately take down the drug lord who brutally murdered them. 

Logan is a mysterious Black Ops agent who falls in love with Ramona, but he soon discovers her ties to the entity he has been tirelessly hunting down for years.

It’s a great script. Juju was hooked from the first page. She was also happy to report that her love life was not as complicated as that of her character. But that would mean she currently had a love life, which she absolutely did not.

The King set is bustling, yet Juju Hamilton feels like she’s moving through molasses. Her nerves are high-strung, her mind circling the same thought over and over again: Today’s the day. She’s been in the industry long enough to handle big scenes, intense stunts, even emotionally grueling moments. 

But this? A sex scene with the Roman Reigns? 

That’s another beast entirely.

“The very first sex scene,” Sienna chirps from the couch, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Her excitement only adds fuel to Juju’s already fraying nerves. “Are you ready?”

Juju forces a laugh, smoothing her hands down the fabric of her dress. “Born ready.”

Sienna waggles her eyebrows. “And Roman? You think he’s ready for you?”

Juju shoots her assistant a playful glare, but her stomach flips at the mention of him. Roman isn’t just her co-star...he’s a complication. A magnetic force who commands attention without even trying. She had assumed his wrestling background would make him stiff or overly rehearsed in front of the camera, but instead, he’s been disarmingly natural. His instincts are sharp, his presence undeniable. And, admittedly, maddeningly attractive.

Too attractive.

She’s spent months keeping things professional, pushing aside how effortlessly he flirts, how his deep voice lingers just a second too long when he says her name. But now, they’re about to strip down—literally and figuratively—in a way neither of them can take back. And for the first time since meeting Roman Reigns, Juju isn’t sure if she’s ready for him.

She stands in front of the full-length mirror in her trailer, smoothing the neckline of the custom-made evening gown that clings enticingly to her curves. The material shimmers under the dim light, the design sculpted to showcase Ramona Kane’s lethal elegance and sensuality. The dress is stunning, undeniably powerful, but it feels like a weight tonight, one she knows will literally fall away in the course of filming. The script demands it. She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her hands to dispel the rising tension in her chest, but the thought still lingers, as potent as the role itself.

She’s acutely aware of what’s coming. Every glance, every deliberate touch, every heated whisper that will lead to Logan stripping Ramona bare. 

She runs her hands over her dress one last time, as if to anchor herself, before meeting her own reflection with a steadying gaze. For a moment, she’s not Juju anymore. She’s Ramona Kane, poised and unapologetically seductive, ready to make the world—and Logan—kneel.

The scene unfolds in a lavish hotel suite, one of Ramona's, where floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline, sparkling under the night sky. The suite exudes luxury, just like Ramona, with plush velvet furnishings, gilded accents, and a crystal chandelier casting a warm golden glow across the room.

Roman stands near the grand piano, tall and commanding in a sleek black suit, the jacket gone and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. His dark, piercing gaze is fixed on her. He embodies Logan completely: calculating, enigmatic, and hopelessly captivated by Ramona even against his better judgment.

“And…action!” the director yells, and the room plunges into a charged silence.

Juju steps into the scene, slipping into Ramona’s skin as if the weight of her secrets has always belonged to her. Across from her, Roman transforms into Logan—rigid, betrayed, simmering with fury barely held in check. The truth has detonated between them, and now, there’s no turning back.

“You lied to me,” he growls, his voice rough and edged with something rawer than anger; something dangerously close to heartbreak. His fists flex at his sides, his entire body wound tight like a coil ready to snap.

Ramona feels the accusation hit like a bullet to the chest. Her composure crumbles, her lips parting as if she can swallow back the truth, but it’s too late. “I lied to protect you,” she says, voice thick with desperation, heavy with regret. “You wouldn’t understand-”

“Bullshit!” Logan spits, his voice cutting through hers like a blade. He steps forward, and instinctively, she retreats, her back pressing against the edge of the desk. But there’s no escaping him. His anger, his presence, his damn-near palpable heartbreak pins her in place just as surely as his gaze does.

“It’s not bullshit! I lied to save your life!” Ramona pleads, her voice rising, cracking under the weight of her guilt. “If they found out who you were, you’d be dead! And if you knew who I was…” Her breath hitches.

“And who are you? Huh?” His voice is quieter now, but no less lethal. He reaches out, gripping her arm; not cruelly, but with an unyielding force that makes it impossible to run. His touch burns through the fabric of her sleeve, sending her pulse into a wild staccato. “Tell me what you’re part of, Ramona. Tell me the truth.”

Juju moves as if the weight of the scene is pressing down on her, her every breath heavy with Ramona’s turmoil. She rips her arm from his grasp, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I’m not just part of it, Logan,” she confesses, her voice shaking but unyielding. “I am it.” 

The words land between them like a death knell. “The entity you’ve been hunting, the one you’ve risked everything to bring down…King…” Her breath shudders. “King is me.”

Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating. This revelation has shattered everything, and now they stand on the wreckage of trust, trying to find footing where none exists.

Logan exhales sharply, his expression flickering—disbelief, rage, and something far more dangerous. Hurt. 

“You…” He stops himself, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. A bitter laugh escapes him, sharp and humorless. “You shoulda told me.”

Her lips part, but she says nothing.

“You should’ve told me,” he repeats, and now his voice is raw, fractured. “You let me hunt you down. You let me look for a monster, knowing the whole damn time it was you.”

Tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them away. “If I told you, Logan, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” he snaps, furious. “You think I can’t handle myself? That I needed you to play God with my life?” His jaw clenches. “I’ve been in the crosshairs my entire life, Ramona. I didn’t need your protection. I needed the truth!”

Ramona shakes her head, pressing a fist against her forehead as if trying to hold herself together. “You don’t understand! If I didn’t lie, they would have used you against me. They would’ve killed you just to hurt me.” Her voice cracks. “I had no choice!”

Logan steps closer, and suddenly, it’s like the entire room disappears. The heat between them is unbearable, suffocating. He looks at her like he’s trying to memorize every line of her face, like the truth is burning through him but still—still—he wants her.

“And what about me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, yet thick with emotion. “What if I wanted to fight for you? What if I would’ve risked everything just to keep you?”

Her chin trembles, as does her voice.

“You shouldn’t,” she whispers, “You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I want to.” His voice is barely more than a breath, but his pain, his longing…it’s all there, simmering beneath the anger. “And you hate it, don’t you?” 

He should be mad. He should hate her. But standing here, looking at her, all he can feel is the crushing weight of knowing that none of it changes the way he feels. 

He’s in love with Ramona.

His fingers twitch at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for her. “You hate that you feel the same way I do. Because it makes you vulnerable. Makes you human.”

Tears fill Ramona’s eyes. Another shuddering breath. “I don’t hate it,” she confesses, “I hate that I can’t stop it.” Her eyes lock onto his, glassy with unshed emotion. “I hate that I can’t stop what I feel for you.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, his expression torn between anger and something softer, almost fragile. He exhales, his head bowing for a moment as if he’s trying to regain control.

“Logan…I…” she begins.

“Don’t,” he cuts her off, shaking his head. “Don’t say it. If you do, there’s no going back, Ramona.”

It’s almost a threat, and she understands exactly what he means. But the walls have crumbled already. Finally, she takes a step closer, lifting her hand to his chest. Her touch is light, hesitant, but it sparks something in both of them.

“I love you,” she says, her voice barely audible, a plea and an admission all at once. “I tried not to. God, I tried…”

Logan’s shoulders sag, his eyes closing as if the weight of her words is too much to bear. For a moment, she thinks he’ll walk away, finally let her go. But then his eyes snap open, blazing with emotion.

“Dammit, Ramona,” he says hoarsely, his hands coming up to cup her face. “I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen. I told myself I couldn’t love you—but I do. I do.”

Juju can barely keep her composure. Roman’s proximity is intoxicating, his scent, a mix of cologne and something warm, something distinctly him, pulling her under. The script calls for a kiss, but the moment he leans in, the air shifts. The line between fiction and reality dissolves.

His lips crash against hers, and instinct takes over. Her fingers tighten around his shoulders, his grip firm at her waist. The kiss is raw, desperate—full of something neither of them are willing to name. It’s supposed to be just a scene, just acting. But the way his mouth moves against hers, the way her body melts into him, says otherwise.

“And cut! End scene!”

The director’s voice slices through the moment, sharp and commanding, but neither of them react right away. Their lips linger, the ghost of the kiss still hanging between them. Roman is the first to pull back, just an inch, his breath hot against her mouth. His dark eyes flick to hers, still half-lidded, still caught in whatever that was.

Juju swallows hard, her chest rising and falling in sync with his. The air between them is thick, charged…dangerous.

Roman’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

Juju forces herself to take a step back, but her fingers are still curled into his shirt like she’s forgotten how to let go.

The scene transitions to the bedroom, where Logan and Ramona’s turbulent emotions ignite into a raw, unrelenting passion. Juju lies back on the bed, completely bare beneath him, her body exposed and vulnerable under the soft glow of the set lights. Roman moves over her, equally nude, his skin warm and firm against hers. His hands glide over her bare curves, deliberate yet trembling with a restrained intensity. Despite the boundaries they’d discussed, his touch feels unguarded, electric, each brush of his fingers sparking a fire in her veins.

“And…action!”

Juju barely has time to inhale before Roman is on her, his body pressing her into the mattress with an intensity that makes the scripted moment feel anything but staged. His breath is hot against her throat, his lips dragging over sensitive skin before parting to press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. She shivers—an unplanned reaction, one that isn’t in the script—but it doesn’t matter. It fits.

His weight settles over her, heavy and consuming, and the slow roll of his hips sends a shockwave through her core. The modesty barriers between them—the flesh-toned strap securing him inside his boxers, the seamless covers shielding her chest—should make this feel clinical. But they don’t. Because when he thrusts again, slow but firm, she feels him. Feels the hard length of him pressing exactly where her body craves it, even through the barriers.

A moan spills from her lips, raw and breathless, and the sound seems to trigger something in him. His grip tightens on her hip, fingers digging into the curve of her waist as he moves faster, more desperate. The bed creaks beneath them, the set fading into nothing as their bodies move in sync, grinding, needing.

Her legs tighten around his waist, anchoring him closer, urging him to keep going. And he does. His forehead drops to hers, his breath coming faster, rougher, as his hips stutter just slightly. His dark eyes burn into hers, and for a split second, the question in them is real. Is she feeling this too? Is she lost in this the same way he is?

“Cut! And that’s a wrap, people!”

The director’s voice slices through the haze, forcing them to stop. But their bodies remain tangled, breathing ragged, sweat beading at their skin despite the cool studio air.

Then, reality crashes back in.

Roman lifts himself off her, his arms shaking slightly as he steadies himself. Juju remains beneath him, her chest rising and falling, her body still buzzing from something she can’t name.

“You okay?” His voice is soft, like a whisper meant only for her.

Juju nods, though her pulse is erratic, her body still buzzing from his touch. “Yeah. You?”

His lips curve into a slow, devastating smile, his dimples deepening as his gaze holds hers. “Never better.”

The words linger between them, weighted with meaning she doesn’t dare acknowledge.

The rest of the set is silent. No one dares to speak.

Because whatever just happened between them…

It wasn’t acting.

Juju sits on the edge of her trailer’s narrow bed, her fingers gripping the hem of her robe as if that alone will anchor her. Hours have passed since they wrapped for the day, but her body hasn’t forgotten. The heat of him. The way his weight felt pressing her into the mattress. The way he had moved against her until the lines had blurred.

She lets out a slow, measured breath, but it does nothing to steady her pulse.

This is stupid. She should let it go.

Tomorrow, they’ll be back on set, pretending like nothing happened. That’s the unspoken rule. What happens under the lights, in front of the cameras, stays there. Professionalism. Boundaries. Distance. But none of that explains why her skin still tingles where he touched her. Why her body reacts as if he’s still there, his breath ghosting over her neck, his voice rough with need as he rasped her name.

She stands abruptly, pacing the small space of her trailer.

If she goes to him now, what happens next? Would they fuck just to chase away the tension? To get it out of their systems? Would it ruin everything? Or worse…would it make things unbearably real?

The whispers on set would start the moment someone saw her slip out of his trailer in the morning. It would be all they talked about. And the aftermath. God, the awkwardness. That post-nut clarity that only comes after you’ve given in to something you can’t take back.

She grips the doorknob, hesitating.

She should go back to bed. She should forget this.

Instead, she exhales, opens the door, and steps out into the night.

The air is crisp against her overheated skin, but it does nothing to cool the fire burning in her veins. The camp of trailers is silent, save for the faint hum of a distant generator, the occasional rustle of wind against metal. She moves quickly, her bare feet barely making a sound against the pavement.

When she reaches his trailer, she hesitates just long enough to hate herself for it.

Then, before she can change her mind, she knocks. Once, twice. 

The door opens, and there he is; damp hair curling against his neck, a loose T-shirt clinging to his broad chest, sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Juju.”

Her name in his mouth is thick, warm, like honey over gravel. But his expression, half-surprise, half-knowing, is impossible to read.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice is lower than usual, rougher.

She shakes her head. She’s not sure she’s slept well in months.

Roman steps aside, and she moves past him into the trailer, barely aware of the door clicking shut behind her. The space shrinks with his presence, heat rolling off his body, thickening the air. It hums between them, the same volatile energy that’s been sparking since their first chemistry read. The same current that made the director say, Jesus Christ, you two are money!

Juju shifts on her feet, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I…I couldn’t stop thinking about the scene.” The admission scrapes out of her, barely audible.

Roman swallows. Hard. “Me neither,” he murmurs.

She doesn’t miss the way his jaw flexes, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for her. She wants him to.

Then, low, nearly guttural, he says, “I can still feel you.”

Her stomach tightens.

He steps closer, just enough for the air between them to thicken. “Your legs around my waist,” he continues, his tone edged with danger, lust. “Your nails in my back.” His eyes drag down her body, slowly, deliberately. “The way you moaned for me.”

Juju’s breath stutters.

Roman’s hand lifts, his knuckles ghosting along her jaw. “Even through the pads…even through all that fake shit they had us wear…” His thumb drags over her bottom lip, gaze dark and locked onto hers. “I could feel how wet you were.”

A pulse of heat licks up her spine.

Then, like a dam finally bursting, they crash into each other.

His hands framing her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. Her fisting his shirt, pulling him flush against her. He groans into her mouth, his fingers slipping beneath her robe. It parts easily, and his hands find her bare skin, gripping, kneading, burning his touch into her. There’s nothing tentative about it. This isn’t slow, or sweet. It’s raw, a collision of lips and tongues and unspoken need.

Her head falls back against the nearest wall as he presses against her, solid, unyielding. The hard length of him settles between her thighs, and she welcomes it, gasping softly as he grinds against her, as he pulls her leg up to hook around his waist.

“Baby girl,” he rasps against her lips, his breath ragged. “Tell me to stop. If you don't want this...”

Juju digs her nails into his shoulders, her response immediate, breathless.

“Don’t you dare.”

They’ve been fighting this for months.

No more.

He lifts her with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carries her to his couch. The kiss turns feral, their mouths devouring as his hands explore her body, reverent yet insistent. When his lips trail down her neck, her breath catches, and she presses closer, needing more.

Clothes fall away in a blur of heat and urgency. Roman’s skin is hot against hers, his muscles flexing under her touch. He lays her down, his hands and lips leaving a trail of fire along her skin. Her body arches into his as if they’ve done this a thousand times, as if they’ve been waiting for this moment all along.

Roman’s mouth never leaves hers, the urgency in his movements igniting something deep within her. He holds her with deliberate care, as though she’s precious, but the look in his eyes tells her he’ll be anything but gentle tonight. His hands skim her thighs, spreading her open as he climbs over her, their bodies flush with each other.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick, sending shivers racing down her spine. His fingers trace the curve of her hip, then move to her breast, teasing her until she gasps. “I’ve been wanting to touch you, really touch you, like this, Juju. You don’t fucking know what you do to me.”

Her breath catches as his lips press against the hollow of her throat, dragging down her chest. “Roman…” His name comes out in a breathless plea, her hands finding their way into his damp hair, tugging him closer.

“You like it when I touch you, don’t you?” he growls against her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple before his mouth closes over it, sucking until she arches off the bed. “Say it, baby.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her voice trembling as heat pools in her belly. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good girl.” His voice is a dark promise, and he kisses her again, devouring her like he can’t get enough. His hands are everywhere; cupping, squeezing, gripping her body like he’s memorizing every inch of her. He kisses a path down her stomach, taking his time, his beard rough against her soft skin. When his face hovers between her thighs, she forgets how to breathe. He spreads her wider, his thumbs pressing into her soft flesh as he looks up at her with a sinful smirk. 

“I bet this pussy taste as good as you look,” he taunts.

Before she can respond, his mouth is on her folds, his tongue moving with precision, dragging over her in ways that make her back bow and her toes crack. He groans against her pussy, the vibration making her cry out, her fingers clutching at the sheets.

“Roman���oh god…”

“That’s right, baby girl, lemme hear how much you love it,” he murmurs, his voice husky as he kisses the inside of her thigh before diving back in. 

She’s trembling beneath him, the coil in her stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue, every slow circle he draws. When she shatters, her release comes in waves, pulling her under as she gasps his name like a prayer.

He doesn’t give her time to recover. Moving over her, he positions himself between her legs, his body radiating heat and power. His dark eyes meet hers, and the raw hunger there makes her heart palpitate.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, kissing her long and deep. “You have no idea how hard it’s been keepin’ my hands off you.”

“Then don’t,” she whispers, her hands sliding down his back, nails scraping lightly over his skin. “Don’t hold back, Roman.”

He groans, the sound primal, and he slides his dick into her in one fluid motion, making her cry out. The stretch is exquisite, and she clings to him as he moves, his pace unrelenting. The couch shakes beneath them, rocking forwards with each of his powerful thrusts.

“This what you wanted?” he growls against her ear, his teeth nipping at her lobe. “You wanted me to fuck you like this? Hard and deep until you can’t think straight?” Without warning, he winds his hips, hitting a spot that makes her mouth drop open. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Take all of me.”

“Yes, baby,” she gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck, Roman…”

He leans down, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss, moaning when her hands slip south to knead the firm skin of his ass. Their bodies move together in perfect rhythm, her moans and whimpers mixing with his groans as they both get dragged closer to ecstasy. The friction, the heat, the intensity; it’s all overwhelming, incredible. 

When she falls apart again, her climax hits her like a tidal wave, her entire body trembling as she cries out his name. Roman follows moments later, his thrusts faster and harder until he freezes abruptly, his hips jerking as he spills into her, his groan low and guttural from the incredible sensation.

For a moment, neither of them moves, their bodies still fused with the aftershocks of pleasure. Their breathing is uneven, mingling in the small space between them, the air thick with sweat and something intimate.

Roman’s fingers trace slow, lazy circles along Juju’s spine before he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, his touch unexpectedly tender as he brushes damp strands of hair from her face.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice husky, still laced with the remnants of desire.

Instead of answering, Juju tilts her chin up and captures his mouth in a slow, drugging kiss, all tongue and lingering heat, a noisy, post-coital indulgence that neither of them is ready to break. She moans softly into his mouth, her toes curling as his tongue sweeps against hers, deep and unhurried. Roman growls low in his throat, his grip tightening on her hip as if already debating whether to take her again.

With great reluctance, Juju breaks the kiss, her fingers trailing down his back, feeling the rise and fall of their joined breaths. “Never better,” she smirks, throwing his own line from earlier back at him.

Roman chuckles at that, his dimples flashing as he carries her from the couch over to his bed area, her ass firm in his grasp. “Good, because I ain’t done with you yet. We fucking all night, baby.”

Her laugh is breathless, but her body sparks to life again as his hands begin to wander, gearing her up for another round of earth-shattering passion.

The next morning, they arrive on set together, both of them glowing in a way that doesn’t go unnoticed. When they approach the director, Roman speaks first.

“So look…about yesterday’s scene…”

Juju finishes his sentence, “We think we can do it better.”

The director raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

As they take their places on set, Juju catches Roman’s eye. He winks at her, and she feels her heart flutter. The line between Ramona and Logan, Juju and Roman, is gone. All that’s left is the undeniable connection between them…and the knowledge that they may have crossed the point of no return, but boy, was it a fun trip.

THE END

Thoughts? How was it?

Roman gif by @dejameflorecer

🏷️: @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @thewarlordsworld @trippinsorrows @herwickedlittlesins @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80

@dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @romansthrone @wwecrazed2010 @sayyestoheav3nn @trentybenty

@purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @tribalhoochie @xbriexx @rollinssection @lovestoreadfiction

@papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @unfriendly–blvck–hottie @romanreignsbae

@theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills @prettyfilmz

@theglamclosetsl @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @crxssjae @octaviastargirl @ashykneee @heartz4chucky

@twocentuar @surdelcielo @althegreat33 @alichesmi @eclectic-tee

@joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @caramelcleopatraa @femdisa @zillasvilla @katrinnnn @callmekayd @msbluehaz3

@megamindsecretlair @headoftheetable @brwnsugababe @heauxvibez @christinabae @potatosackk @usoholic @4milly @luvrsluxe @juicypinksblog

@raya-hunter01 @lilucey @aisharmi @neverlookatthisblog @dayaimonee @nayys-world @kianaleani @shes2real @disc0fairy @paigereeder

@fearlesschimera @tshepisho @partypoison00 @originalgeezyy @muzaqueendom @naturally-nikkilynn

[austinbutlerslovers]

Quick-Take

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin is exhausted from jet lag on set for Breitling, his passion diminishing until your quick thinking gives him several minutes of clarity in his trailer.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin devoted boyfriend • over worked• stressed• needs affection• Austin’s love language •supportive girlfriend • stress relief• quickie in a trailer• p in V• over a counter• don’t make a sound• semi private• Austin pleasure bonded • orgasm • cream pie•aftercare

Quick-Take

It’s a crisp morning in the middle of the desert, the Breitling timepiece photoshoot set busy with strained energy beneath a relentless sun.

Hills line the horizon around you, dotted with shrubs, as the vast, cloudless sky blazes overhead.

The crew hustles around, tweaking lights, and hollering directions, while Austin stands in the center of it all.

He’s dressed in blue jeans hugging his lean frame, a matching blue shirt tucked tight into the waist, secured with a brown leather belt

His outfit is rugged perfection, and you watch him shoot a few scenes, striding toward the camera with purpose, and when he turns to walk away his great ass in those jeans steals your focus entirely.

Austin looks hot, there’s no question, but his mood is completely off.Jet lag’s got him in a chokehold, you both arriving fresh off a red-eye flight thanks to his relentless career schedule, and his usual easy going charm is wearing thin under the exhaustion.

You’re off to the side, sipping water under a hanging tarp to beat the dry heat, keeping an eye on him.

He glances over with a little smile, hands on his hips, until it’s time for photos. Then he’s back to stern, his brows furrowed, jaw tight.

You can’t help but notice the way they frame his perfect side profile, broad shoulders tapering down to that slim waist, hand cocked on his hip accentuating the curve of his ass.

But as his eyes flicker with a weary squint, you know he’s about to crash, there’s no hiding it.

Every time the photographer calls, “Tilt your head, Austin,” or “Give me more intensity,” he complies, but his eyes scream he’s over it.

He’s in one of his moods, too polite to speak up, too tired to fake it fully. Still, he keeps it together, offering that sensual, yet slightly edgier look the camera craves, playing it cool like the pro he is.

The Breitling watch gleams on his wrist, catching the light with every forced pose, but the tension’s simmering just beneath the surface.

The photographer finally calls for a break, and Austin slinks over to the folding chair near you, his name bold across the back.

He slumps into it with a low groan, rubbing his temples, his brown hair a little over-gelled from the styling team’s earlier efforts and you slide in beside him, offering comfort any way you can.

“You’re killing it out there,” you say, keeping it light.

He glances up at you, and for a second, his guarded expression softens. A shy grin tugs at the corner of his lips, barely there but enough to make your chest warm. “Yeah?” he says, his voice low and gravelly from exhaustion. “Thanks. Feel like I’m running on fumes, though.”

“You’re hiding it well,” you say, giving him a playful glance. “Seriously, you look so good in this outfit Austin the blue denim is really working for you.” You confess your eyes trailing over him, lingering on the way the jeans cling to his thighs.

He huffs a small laugh, running a hand through his hair, and you catch the faintest flush on his cheeks. He’s still off, still wound tight, but you can tell he appreciates the effort. You just want him to shake off the gloom, to see that spark he usually carries. He’s too pretty to be this miserable.

You let your fingers trail up his shoulders, squeezing the tight muscles beneath his blue shirt as you lean in, your voice dropping softly. “You’ve got this,” you whisper, fingers sliding higher, tracing the line of his shoulders until you graze the edge of his collar.

He turns to you, his blue eyes soft with a quiet ache flickering in them. “I need you so damn much right now,” he says, his voice low and rough.

His words hit deep, a raw edge to them that tightens your chest, and before he can say more, the director calls for the next shot.

You squeeze his shoulder one last time, and he brushes your hand gently as he gets up.

You watch him walk through the desert heat, climbing up and sitting at the top of a ladder for the next shot, the sandy hills framing him perfectly.

He’s supposed to look brooding, focused, but instead he looks lost under the intense sun, reflectors glaring into his blue eyes, squinting hard, with his brows furrowed.

The photographer’s directions pile on, “Elbows on your knees,” “Hands too low, I need to see the watch, Austin,” “Too stiff.” Austin keeps correcting himself, but it’s not working his minds not in it, and his head dips low as he exhales a frustrated breath.

The director’s voice cuts through, sharp and measured. “Alright, let’s break for wardrobe and set up for the quick take shot.” He calls, and Austin climbs down, his composure cracked as he heads straight for you, defeat in his eyes.

You pull him into your arms, his solid body a little too warm as your hands rest on his jaw, drawing his blue eyes to meet yours. “What do you need, baby?” you ask softly.

“I can’t keep it together out here… just need a minute,” he responds, his voice hushed, and there’s no hesitation as he takes your hand, pulling you toward his silver Airstream trailer parked stabilized off in the sand.

His grip is firm, his pace hurried, like he’s chasing relief and you’re the only one who can provide it.

As soon as the door locks shut, sealing out the desert glare, he’s already spilling his desperate thoughts. “Fuck, babe, I can’t think straight,” he rasps, voice low and frayed.

He paces for a moment, restless, until you tease half-serious, “You want a quickie in the trailer?”

His eyes light up instantly. “Yes,” he says, and you feel a thrill surge through you as he closes the distance fast, pulling you into his arms as his lips meet yours in a fierce and hungry clash.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of mint as he kisses you deeper, a starved groan rising from his throat. His hands grip your face, pulling you even closer, like he can’t get enough.

He breaks the kiss breathless, his hands spinning you around quick and pressing you against the front room counter. “Been losing my mind out there… need to fuck you so bad, it’s the only thing that’ll pull me together.”

You grin, voice teasing as you brace your hands against the edge, the cool metal digging into your palms. “This is the big plan? Screwing me senseless to survive this shoot?” you say, breathless with a playful edge.

“Hell yes,” he says his voice tense, fumbling with his belt in a frantic rush, the brown leather clinking wildly as he yanks it loose.

His fingers snag the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down in one sharp pull as he shoves the denim low enough to free himself.

His cock springs out, thick and hard, and he hikes your skirt up with a rough pull. “Need you… fuck, I need you so much,” he groans, yanking your panties down, exposing your ass to him. His fingers grip your thighs, spreading you open with a low groan, his tip already slick as he presses it against you.

You bite your lip to stifle a whimper, the trailer walls thin enough to make you both hyper-aware of the crew milling a distance away outside. He lines himself up, nudging against you before he pushes in, thrusting deep in a hurried rush that slams his hips into yours.

Your fingers dig into the counter, a quiet, “Mmm,” slipping out despite your best efforts, the pleasure spiking fast as a choked off sound escapes him and he settles inside, the tight heat of you swallowing him whole.

His body jolts, a shudder ripping through him, and he presses himself closer, pulling you against him, his breaths jagged against your neck. “So good..need you so fuckin’ much,” he says softly, his voice breaking as he clings to you, his hands roaming you with an insatiable need.

He’s not gentle or rough, just desperate, and he thrusts into you fast and messy, like he’s chasing salvation. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through your shirt, squeezing hard enough to make you arch into him. “Can’t get enough of you,” he pants, fingers trailing back down to dig into your hips, pulling you tighter against him as he thrusts, harder, deeper, his belt clinking sharply with every snap of his hips.

Soft whimpers spill from you, your pleasure washing over you as you melt into his touch, a quiet “Oh, Austin” slipping past your lips in a breathy plea.

He groans low, loving how you sound, his breaths catching against your ear, each one a rough whisper of his need as he loses himself in you.

The denim of his jeans chafes against your thighs, the zipper’s teeth grazing your skin as he drives into you faster with a frantic need.

You both try to keep it quiet, stifling moans, but it’s a losing battle. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to empty every ounce of stress into you, and your meeting him on every thrust, your brains melting in the heat of pleasure.

His cock slides inside you, thick and pulsing, hitting the spot that makes your knees buckle, and he clamps his hand over your mouth muffling the loud moans falling from lips. “You want everyone to hear what I’m doing to you?” he asks and you shake your head, breathless.

He groans low and stifled, the sound vibrating against your spine, and you can tell he’s trying to bite down on his noise, satisfying you while losing himself completely.

His pace turns erratic, thrusting wildly, your body rocking hard with the force of it. His hand leaves your mouth, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, trailing back to your breasts to pinch and knead your nipples.

Your head tilts back, choked-off sounds escaping your throat as your walls tighten and flutter around his cock, clenching him tight in the heat of pleasure.

“Please, baby, come for me,” he whispers, voice shaking with need. “I need it…need to feel you, need to know how good you feel on my cock.”

His thrusts turn relentless, so fast your body shakes, a trembling mess as he pounds into you. His fingers slip down, rubbing your clit in tight circles in time with his hips, and a loud moan escapes you as you come, your walls clenching hard around him

His hand covers over your mouth again, stifling the little sounds spilling from you, and he groans in pleasure, his breaths releasing in quick, uneven bursts against your neck.

You can feel the weight of the day slipping off of him, each shuddering exhale carrying away the tension that’s been crushing him.

His hands suddenly drop to your hips, anchoring himself as he comes with a deep, shaky groan that echoes in the small space. He buries his cock deep, hips stuttering, as a guttural, “Fuck,” slips out before he can stop it.

His cock throbs inside you, spilling hot and thick, and the feel of it, him letting go and filling you up, sends a shiver through you.

His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against him as he rides it out, chest heaving, lazily drawing you closer with each slowing thrust. He rests his head against the side of yours, his soft sighs of relief slipping from him warm and quiet against your skin.

“Feeling better?” you grin, breathless, your voice light with a tease.

He lets out a winded laugh, pulling out slowly and tucking his cock back into his jeans with trembling fingers. “Yeah,” he rasps, his voice soft and wrecked, “Much better.”

He turns you to face him, and he kisses you, his lips brushing yours with a tender, lingering press before he pulls back, his shy smile breaking through.

“You’re so good to me,” he praises, his voice warm and low, and you grin, catching the spark flickering back into his eyes.

Your hand presses gently against his jaw. “The quick shot, baby,” you remind him, and his face shifts with a determined nod, focus snapping back into place.

He quickly peels off the blue shirt and jeans, tossing the clothing onto a chair in the corner of the trailer.

You fix yourself up while he puts on his second outfit, a crisp white tee that hugs his frame just right and a pair of sleek black jeans that make him look effortless.

He pulls everything on, running a hand through his hair, then he turns to you with an eager expression awaiting your approval.

You step closer, tilting your head as you take him in. “You look great, very vintage Austin,” you tease, grinning as your hands trail down the front of his tee.

He chuckles, ducking his head with his shy edge creeping back into his smile. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stepping around him to grab his guitar from its stand in the corner.

The sleek acoustic has been sitting there all morning, untouched, and you hold it out to him. “Why don’t you bring some of you into this shoot? It’d go perfect with the Breitling vibe, timeless and classic, but with your edge.”

His eyes light up, and he takes the guitar from you, fingers brushing yours as he does. “That’s… actually a really good idea,” he says, his voice lifting with a spark of excitement.

He strums a soft chord testing it out, and you can see the gears turning. “Yeah,” he says, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I’m feeling that.”

He looks at you, and before you can react, he steps in close, cupping your chin with one hand and pressing a kiss on your lips full of gratitude.

His thumb brushes your cheek as he pulls back,“You’re a genius, you know that?” he says, his voice lifting with a smile “Thanks for pulling me out of my head.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “I just want you to have some fun out there.”

He grins full-on this time, no hesitation and heads back out to the set, guitar in hand.

You trail behind, watching as he takes charge. “Hey,” he calls to the crew, “can we get my bike out here? The black one behind the trailer?”

The team scrambles, and soon enough, the sleek motorcycle is rolled into the frame, its chrome glinting as the crew works to set up the lighting.

Austin sits on the couch in front of his trailer as he waits with the natural swagger he’s got locked down. He strums a few chords on his guitar, loose and easy, letting his fingers dance over the strings.

The photographer catches it, snapping away as the videographer joins in, rolling footage while Austin glances over at you with a playful smile.

You cross your arms, grinning back, and he adds his own flair tilting his head just so, the Breitling watch flashing as he shifts his grip on the guitar.

Once the bike is set up Austin sets the guitar down against the couch as the makeup and hair artists swoop in for a final touch-up, dabbing his face and tousling his hair a bit more.

Then he pauses, a new idea sparking in his eyes as he ducks into his trailer, emerging moments later with one of his favorite leather jackets.

He shrugs it on, the fit snug across his shoulders, as he strides toward his motorcycle parked in the middle of the set.

The crew watches, hooked, as he moves with purpose, posing  with one hand on the bike’s handlebar, the other crossed over his chest, fingers splayed to showcase the Breitling watch perfectly, the sleek metal glinting in the light.

Then, he shifts, planting both hands on the handlebars, standing in a wide, commanding stance over the bike, legs braced in the sand, exuding raw confidence.

The crew’s eating it up, and you can tell he’s back in his stride, as the shoot transforms into something alive, something him, raw, cool, and effortlessly authentic.

By the time they call it a day, the photos are gold. The photographer’s buzzing about all the shots and footage they’ve done, and Austin is practically glowing with that quiet pride he carries.

He walks over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” he says, his voice warm as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Breitling’s gonna owe you one.”

You laugh, leaning into him, the familiar weight of his arm grounding you. “I’m just happy to see you happy,” you confess, and his grin widens, soft and real.

With the stress melted away, he’s back to being the Austin you know full of charisma and charm, just needing a quick moment of clarity to be himself.

END 👖

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

[theotherbuckley]

He’s trying to be strong.

He’s not about to cry in front of him. He’s going for a good reason; moving to prove to his son that he can be a good father, that he loves him more than anything else in the world. When Buck was a kid, there wasn’t much he’d give for his parents to love him that much. Eddie can ensure that Christopher never has to feel that way, show him he’ll always be there, whenever he’s ready.

So he can’t cry, he can’t be mad or sad right now, that would be selfish.

He can cry later.

He bites his lips, clenches his fists together any time a wave of longing, grief, and want hit him square in the chest. He takes a breath and smiles as much as he can.

Christopher deserves the world, even if that means letting Buck’s fly across the country. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for that boy.

Just keep swimming, he repeats in his mind.

He doesn’t stop to think about why he’s comparing his best friend leaving to a tsunami. It doesn’t matter, it’s not like he’ll be here when he figures it out.

It’s raining by the time the truck is loaded up, less things inside it than Buck expected. It’s fitting, the sky crying when he cannot.

Buck wants to tuck himself between the furniture in the trailer like a Tetris piece. Fit himself between the couch cushions that were always more comfortable than his own. Though Eddie is the one with his home all neatly packed away, Buck feels like his is the one that will be leaving, sitting in the driver’s seat.

The ache in his gut grows bigger as the two stand on the side of the street, running out of things to say. He doesn’t want to stop talking. Once he stops then… then he’s gone.

He stayed up last night, baking 5 different varieties of cookies and cakes, anything to keep his mind off the fact that everyone he loves seems to leave him every damn time. He gives a bag to Eddie, tells him to save some for Christopher, laughs as though it’s a funny joke, like he didn’t spend night agonising on how this would end. Tommy was right when he said he knows how this ends. Everything ends, everyone leaves. And Buck is always left behind.

Eddie says he’ll FaceTime, but Buck’s done long distance before with Ali— not that, no that Eddie is his, but—

Maddie and Chimney are expecting another addition to their family, one he couldn’t be happier about, but as their family expands he knows there will be less time for him. Hen and Karen have their daughter back, two incredible children to care for. Bobby and Athena are still trying to find a home to move into. Eddie’s moving to try and salvage his relationship with his son. And Tommy, he left too.

There’s not really any space for Buck.

Eddie gives Buck a look as though he can see right through to his soul, or maybe Buck just isn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thinks. He gives Buck a sad smile, lifts his arm and pulls Buck in for the hug he so desperately needs.

He tucks his head into Eddie’s neck like that’s where it belongs. It could be. He lets the rain hide the tears that he can no longer hold back as he squeezes Eddie just a little bit tighter. He’s glad that Eddie’s holding his baking, he thinks that if he’d wrapped him in both arms then Buck would never be able to let go. He’s probably hugging him longer than what’s socially acceptable, but when Eddie pulls away Buck just feels like it’s over far too quickly. He feels cold suddenly, in a way that has nothing to do with the weather.

Eddie walks away, and Buck follows, unable to stop himself. He’s pulled by an invisible string, desperate to stop Eddie from leaving LA, leaving him. But he remembers why he’s going and he forces his feet to remain firmly planted on the ground.

Eddie gets in his truck and leaves.

And Buck just watches him go.

[theomenmedia]

The Trailer For Akshay Kumar's Sky Force Is Out Now!

Get ready for an epic sky-high adventure with Akshay Kumar in Sky Force! The trailer drops bombs of excitement! In cinemas 24th January 2025.

Check out the action packed trailer right here: https://www.theomenmedia.com/post/sky-force-soars-high-akshay-kumar-s-new-trailer-ignites-patriotic-fervor

[vinylmango]

Flower Delivery (pt.2)

crazy ex!Nicholas Alexander Chavez x black!reader

Warnings: obsessive behaviors, breaking and entering, gaslighting,

Word count: 1.3k

Note: Sorry about the delay, work has been kinda crazy recently. Anyways, some people were asking for a part two so here it is! Hope you like it!

part one

part three

masterlist

“Alright, that’s a wrap for today everyone!” The director shouted as you and your co-stars left the sound stage and headed for your respective trailers. You shut the trailer door behind you, exhaling when you heard the click of the lock. 

Spinning around, a smile grew on your face when there wasn’t anyone or anything waiting for you this time. No more flowers, just the vaseful that remained on the side table, the tiny folded envelope left next to it, your name scrawled in Nicholas’ messy handwriting. 

Huffing you grabbed the vase and card, throwing the card in the trash and walking over to the small stainless steel sink to dump the water from the vase. You hesitated, they were such pretty flowers, your favorite in fact. You shook the thoughts from your head as you dumped the water, watching it disappear down the tiny drain. You threw the flowers in the trash, pushing down on the trash can lid as it didn’t fully close due to the length of the flower stems. The lid finally shut with a little extra force as you set the now empty vase on the table. 

A content sigh left your lips as you relaxed into the plush of the sofa, taking a moment before you decided to return to your apartment. Your phone ringing disrupted the quiet you had been reveling in, a stark contrast from the loud and active set that you had been on today. “Hello?”

“Hi Honey! How was filming today?” It was your mother, checking in on you for the day. Since you had moved away to Los Angeles from your hometown, hundreds of miles away, your mom or dad had called you every day, missing having you close.

“It was good. We wrapped for the day about 20 minutes ago. I’m about to head back to my place in a few minutes.” You explained, glancing at the time for a moment. 

“How’s Nick? He’s a good guy for you, (Y/n/n).” Your mom asked, catching you off guard. You blinked a couple of times, making sure you had heard her correctly.

“Nick? When did Nick call you?” You asked, grabbing your bag and stepping out of the trailer as your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Oh I just spoke to him earlier today. He called to wish your father a happy birthday.” She explained. “Speaking of, did you call your father yet?”

“Uh, no. Not yet. It’s been a hectic day.” Your brain was still stuck on him calling your family. “Uh, Mom, I’ve gotta go. Something just came up. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You said quickly, not waiting for her to respond before you hung up. You got out of your parked car, locking it before you walked up the driveway, going through your settings at the same time, trying to find the blocked contacts list to make sure he was still on it. Sliding your phone back into your pocket as you went up the front stairs and stood at your door. You placed the key in the lock, opening the door and looking around outside before closing it and locking it behind you, placing the latch lock on as well. “What the hell is wrong with him?” You mumbled under your breath thinking about how Nicholas called your parents again. 

Turning the lights on as the sun now hung low in the sky, your cozy living room was bathed in a soft yellow glow. You hummed to yourself as you placed your bag on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, grabbing the watering can and walking over to the kitchen sink to fill it so you could water all the plants that were scattered around the living room and perched on the windowsills. “How’d filming go?” You dropped the watering can onto the large area rug, your eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“What the hell!” You screamed, your vision blurry with unshed tears. You weren’t even sure why you felt the urge to cry, chalking it up to a fear response as you blinked the tears away and picked up the watering can that was now empty since its contents were soaking into the rug as you stood there. You threw the watering can at your ex boyfriend, rolling your eyes when he caught it, though the most that it would’ve done was bounce off of him. 

“A bit dramatic, huh?” Nicholas chuckled as he set the empty watering can on your coffee table. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He gestures around to the plants and slightly different layout from when he had last been there over a year before. 

“Dramatic?” You questioned. “Dramatic.” A humorless laugh escaped you as you narrowed your eyes at him. “How did you get in here? This is breaking and entering.” 

He dangled the key off of his finger. “Oh I just told Mr. Daniels that I lost my key at the airport and he gave me a spare.”

You gritted your teeth. This was the second time you had talked to your landlord, Mr. Daniels, about either changing the locks or something related to keys. “Get out.” You told him, pointing towards the door.

“Come on (Y/n/n), just hear me out.” His dark brown eyes bored into yours, and you weren’t sure why they were so disarming, why you were even considering listening to him right now. 

“I’m calling the cops, Nick.” You told him as you shook your head. “You can’t keep doing stuff like this. Just leave me alone! We’re done! We’ve been done for a year! Let me be.” 

“It was a mistake to let you go, (Y/n).” He shook his head this time, the cocky look on his face replaced by something genuine and sad. 

“You made your choice. We both did.” You interjected. “We aren’t little kids anymore, we’re adults. Start acting like one and accept that.”

“You know the cops won’t do anything.”

“Maybe, but I’m going to get a restraining order if you don’t stop. You need to stop and...and don’t call my parents! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You never told them that we broke up, did you?” You watched as a smirk began to pull at his lips.

“What?" Your voice faltered. "Don’t flatter yourself.” You scoffed at the tone of his voice. “I have told them…and if you don’t leave now, I’ll tell them everything else and we’ll see what they do.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn't blocked me.” 

“Ok, well...Goodbye.” You said, pushing him towards the door. You gave him one final push, though you were pretty sure he definitely could’ve put up more of a fight if he had wanted to. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, huh?”

“Goodbye Nicholas.” You repeated, not answering his question as you closed the door in his face, locking the latch back once more. Sure, you hadn’t answered his question, but you both knew the answer anyway. 

It was unavoidable, Hollywood was way too small to avoid him forever whether that meant seeing him at awards shows, working together on the same project, or just seeing him around, you knew he would never actually leave, and for now he seemed content with that knowledge and you were content with the conclusion of the night.

The living room returned to silence as you sat down on the sofa. You pushed your hair from out of your face, twisting a piece around your finger before letting it go. 

For now, things were manageable. Maybe you would regret it later, but you had convinced yourself, however naive your thought process, that you would deal with him later. He wasn’t a real threat, he was just annoying.

Future you could handle it.

Let me know if you want to be on a permanent tag list.

[callsigns-haze]

tyler owens one shot idea: he’s your ex and now your forced to see him again while working with storm parr. and then one drunken night you guys end up hooking up.

Not so past

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/N reunite in a heated, emotional encounter, reigniting their past passion and unresolved feelings during a late-night moment by his truck.

Chapter Warning: Contains explicit sexual content, strong language, and themes of intense emotional conflict.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty road as Tyler Owens’ team bustled around their truck, preparing for the day ahead. The sky above was a mix of blue and grey, the calm before the inevitable storm—a fitting backdrop for the storm chasers. Dani was securing the last of the equipment, while Dexter double-checked the weather data on his tablet. Javi and Kate, the newest members of the team, exchanged excited glances as they packed away supplies with Lilly and Boone.

As the sound of laughter and banter filled the air, a distant roar of an engine grew louder, capturing everyone’s attention. A sleek motorcycle, its chrome glinting in the sun, pulled up beside the truck. The rider was dressed in a black leather jacket, the emblem of Storm Par emblazoned on the back—a rival storm chasing group.

The team watched as Scott, a burly member of Storm Par, stepped off his own bike and approached the rider. He helped her remove her helmet, revealing a woman with windswept hair and a determined expression. Her eyes scanned the area, seemingly indifferent to the curious stares she was receiving from Tyler's squad.

Tyler, who had been tightening a strap on the truck, froze as he recognized the woman. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Memories flooded back—late nights, shared laughter, heated arguments, and the bitter end that had left them both scarred.

“Y/N...” Tyler muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Boone, noticing Tyler's reaction, stepped closer to Javi and Kate, who were both watching the scene unfold with puzzled expressions.

"What's going on?" Kate whispered, glancing at Boone for answers.

Boone sighed, crossing his arms as he kept his eyes on Y/N. "That’s Tyler's ex," he explained quietly, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. "They broke up two years ago, and it wasn’t pretty. They’ve got a lot of rough history between them."

Javi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No kidding? That explains the tension.”

“Yeah,” Boone continued, his tone sombre. “They were together for a while, practically inseparable at one point. But the work... chasing storms, it’s not exactly easy on relationships. Things went south, and they both went their separate ways. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since.”

Tyler, still staring at Y/N, took a deep breath and forced himself to look away. He needed a moment, a chance to gather his thoughts. “Excuse me,” he muttered to the group, his voice strained. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away from the truck, disappearing behind a nearby trailer.

Dani shot Boone a questioning look, but Boone just shook his head, silently signalling that now wasn’t the time to press for details. The mood among the team shifted, the earlier excitement dampened by the sudden tension.

Y/N handed her helmet to Scott and exchanged a few words with him before turning her attention back to the truck. Her gaze swept over the squad, and she could sense the curiosity and unease. But her eyes didn’t linger on them for long. She knew who she was looking for.

Tyler’s absence didn’t go unnoticed. A flicker of something—regret, sadness, maybe even a touch of anger—crossed her face before she schooled her features into a neutral expression. She had a job to do, just like him. Whatever happened between them was in the past. At least, that’s what she told herself as she turned back to Scott and continued their conversation.

Back at the truck, Boone exchanged a glance with Dani, both of them silently acknowledging the unspoken tension that had settled over the team. "Well," Boone said quietly, “looks like things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

Kate nodded, her curiosity piqued despite the awkwardness. “What do we do now?”

Boone shrugged, his expression grim. “We keep working. Storm’s coming whether we’re ready or not.”

Javi looked at Kate, who gave him a small nod. The two of them resumed their tasks, though the atmosphere was noticeably heavier now. As they worked, they couldn’t help but glance occasionally in the direction Tyler had gone, wondering what this unexpected reunion would mean for the team—and for Tyler himself.

The energy around the truck had shifted from excitement to a more subdued, contemplative mood after Tyler’s unexpected encounter with Y/N.

Javi and Kate were sitting by the cooler, their conversation hushed but animated. The air was filled with the scent of gasoline and the distant rumble of thunder as a storm began to brew. Boone had just finished up some last-minute checks on the equipment, and Dani had gone off to finalize a few details with the weather service.

Kate glanced over at Boone, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her. “Hey Boone,” she said, leaning in slightly, “we were just wondering... What’s the story with Tyler and Y/N?”

Javi nodded in agreement, his gaze focused intently on Boone. “Yeah, what’s the deal? They seem like they’ve got a pretty complicated history. We saw how Tyler reacted when he saw her, and it seemed pretty intense.”

Boone, who had been busy organizing some gear, stopped and let out a long sigh. He wiped his hands on a rag and looked at the two younger team members. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke, the weight of the past evident in his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll fill you in,” Boone said quietly, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “But it’s a long story. Tyler and Y/N were together for a few years. Two storm chasers who were on the same wavelength, both professionally and personally.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “So, what went wrong? They seem like they were a perfect match.”

Boone nodded, a hint of a smile crossing his lips at the memory. “They were a great team. But chasing storms isn’t exactly a regular 9-to-5 job. The long hours, the travel, the constant danger—it puts a lot of strain on relationships. And that’s what happened with them. The job took its toll.”

Javi leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Was it just the job that caused the problems, or was there more to it?”

Boone’s expression grew more serious. “It wasn’t just the job. There were personal differences, too. They had different priorities, different visions for their futures. And, of course, there were other issues—trust, jealousy, the usual complications when you’re working and living together.”

Kate nodded thoughtfully. “So, they broke up, and now she’s with Storm Par. That must have been a tough transition for Tyler.”

“Yeah, it was rough,” Boone agreed. “They broke up about two years ago. It wasn’t pretty—lots of arguments, a lot of hurt feelings. Tyler took it pretty hard. And then, she just... moved on. Got involved with Storm Par, who are our rivals in a sense. It’s like a double whammy for him.”

Javi frowned, trying to piece everything together. “So, Tyler seeing her with Storm Par... that must have hit him pretty hard. It’s like a reminder of everything he lost and the fact that she’s now on the other side.”

Boone nodded, his expression softening. “Exactly. It’s not just seeing her again after all this time—it’s seeing her in a place where she’s almost a symbol of everything he’s been struggling to move past. It’s a blow to his pride and his heart.”

Kate sighed, her gaze shifting towards where Tyler had retreated earlier. “I feel for him. That kind of history, it doesn’t just disappear. It lingers.”

Boone’s eyes softened with understanding. “Yeah, it does. And Tyler’s a tough guy, but he’s still human. This is something he’s going to have to work through. It’s not just about dealing with Y/N being with a rival team; it’s about confronting a lot of unresolved feelings and past regrets.”

Javi nodded, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. “I guess we’ll just have to give him space and be there if he needs us.”

Boone’s gaze flicked back to the truck, where Tyler had reappeared, his demeanour more composed but still carrying an air of subdued tension. “That’s the best we can do. Just be supportive and give him time. He’s a strong guy, but even the strongest need a hand sometimes.”

---

The temperature had begun to climb as the afternoon wore on, and Tyler knew they’d need more ice to keep their supplies cold. After taking a moment to gather himself, he walked towards the cooler beside the truck. The familiar crunch of gravel under his boots brought him some solace, but his mind was still reeling from seeing Y/N after all this time.

As he approached the cooler, Tyler spotted someone already there, bent over and digging through the ice with a small scoop. The sight of her familiar figure, the way she held herself—confident, yet focused—sent a jolt through him. For a moment, he considered turning around and leaving, but it was too late. Y/N had already sensed his presence.

She straightened up, holding a bag of ice in one hand, and turned to face him. The air between them seemed to thicken as their eyes met. Tyler froze, the usual easy confidence he carried evaporating in an instant.

“Tyler,” Y/N acknowledged him, her voice neutral, but there was an undercurrent of tension that he didn’t miss.

He swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn’t come. This close, he could see the subtle changes in her—new lines of stress that hadn’t been there before, a more guarded expression in her eyes. But she was still Y/N, the woman who had once known him better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Tyler finally managed, his voice tight. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Especially... with them.” His eyes flicked to the Storm Par logo on her jacket.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “Yeah, well, life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?”

Tyler clenched his jaw, the words “full of surprises” echoing in his mind. He wasn’t sure which stung more—the fact that she was here, or that she was working with Storm Par, the competition, the so-called enemy. He could still remember their arguments about rival teams, the fiery debates they’d had about who was in it for the science and who was in it for the glory.

“Storm Par, though?” he asked, his tone carrying a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “You always said they were in it for the wrong reasons. What happened to that?”

Y/N’s expression hardened, the brief moment of softness in her eyes vanishing. “People change, Tyler. Circumstances change. Sometimes you have to take what you can get.”

He didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, nor the hint of something deeper—resentment, maybe? Regret? It was hard to tell. But it cut him nonetheless.

“Is that what this is? Just... taking what you can get?” Tyler asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

Y/N sighed, shifting the bag of ice in her hand. She glanced away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When she looked back at him, her gaze was steady, though the fire that had once been there was now a cold, smoldering ember.

“It’s a job, Tyler. It’s what I’m good at,” she said flatly. “Just like you. I’m doing what I have to do. If that means working with Storm Par, then so be it.”

Tyler felt a pang of something deep in his chest—anger, sadness, maybe even guilt. They had been a team once, a damn good one. But those days were gone, and it was clear she had moved on in ways he hadn’t expected. Or maybe in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to think about.

He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said quietly. “After everything that happened...”

Y/N flinched, just slightly, but she quickly masked it. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an expression that was hard to read. “You’re right, Tyler. You shouldn’t be surprised. We both made choices. We’re living with them now.”

The weight of her words hung between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the crunching of ice as she tightened her grip on the bag.

Tyler opened his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe, or a plea to just talk things out—but the words caught in his throat. The history between them was too complicated, too painful to unpack in a casual conversation by a cooler.

Instead, he nodded stiffly, his expression guarded. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Y/N held his gaze for a moment longer, then broke it, turning back to the cooler to grab another bag of ice. She handed it to him without a word, her touch brief, almost impersonal. Tyler took the bag, the cold seeping through his gloves, grounding him in the present.

“Take care, Tyler,” Y/N said quietly, her voice carrying a finality that made his heart sink.

He nodded, unable to find the right response. “You too, Y/N.”

---

The storm had finally passed, leaving behind a sky streaked with the deep purples and pinks of twilight. The day had been intense, with the team pushing their limits to capture every bit of data they could. As the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion crept in, the weight of the day settling heavily on Tyler's shoulders.

The team was packing up, their voices quieter now, the earlier excitement replaced by a tired, satisfied calm. Tyler finished securing the last piece of equipment to the truck, his mind replaying the events of the day—especially his brief, tense encounters with Y/N. He could still feel the sting of their words, the unresolved tension gnawing at him like a dull ache.

He needed to clear his head, and a hot shower sounded like the perfect remedy.

Tyler grabbed a fresh change of clothes from his bag and made his way to the small, makeshift shower area they had set up nearby. The water pressure was weak, but it didn’t matter. As soon as the lukewarm water hit his skin, he felt the tension begin to melt away, the dirt and grime of the day washing down the drain along with some of the stress.

He stood under the stream, letting the water run over his face, his mind drifting. The cold splash of reality was as sharp as the water was warm—he was going to have to face Y/N again, probably sooner rather than later. The thought of her working with Storm Par still gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of how much things had changed between them.

Tyler leaned forward, bracing his hands against the wall of the shower stall, and closed his eyes. The heat of the water pounded against his back, loosening the knots in his muscles. He needed to let it go, at least for tonight. The last thing he wanted was to drag the team down with his personal issues, especially after they had all worked so hard today.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on the present—on the here and now. There was nothing he could do about the past, but he could control how he handled the future, even if that meant swallowing his pride and finding a way to coexist with Y/N. For the sake of the job, and for his own sanity.

After what felt like an eternity, Tyler finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. The cool evening air hit his damp skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth he had just felt. He quickly towelled off and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt, the familiar scent of his soap helping to ground him.

As he finished getting ready, Tyler caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror. His hair was still slightly damp, and his eyes held a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. But there was also determination there, a resolve to push forward despite the lingering shadows of his past.

He grabbed his jacket and headed out, the sounds of laughter and conversation guiding him toward the rest of the team. They had set up a small gathering spot near the truck, a cooler filled with drinks and a few fold-out chairs arranged in a loose circle. The mood was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension of the day, and Tyler could hear Boone’s deep, rumbling laugh as he told a story to Javi and Kate.

“Hey, you finally made it,” Dani called out as she spotted Tyler approaching. She raised her drink in a mock salute, a grin spreading across her face. “We were starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head as he took a seat in one of the chairs. “Nah, just needed to cool off for a bit.”

Lilly tossed him a cold beer from the cooler, which he caught with ease. He cracked it open, the first sip a welcome relief after the long day. The cold liquid slid down his throat, soothing and refreshing.

“Hell of a chase today,” Boone said, raising his own drink in agreement. “We got some damn good footage.”

“Damn right we did,” Tyler replied, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. The thrill of the chase had always been a constant in his life, something that never failed to ignite his passion, no matter what else was going on.

Javi leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement. “I still can’t believe we were that close. The footage is going to be amazing.”

“It will be,” Tyler agreed, his tone more relaxed now. He took another sip of his beer, letting himself enjoy the camaraderie. “It was a good day, all things considered.”

Kate, who had been quietly listening, glanced at Tyler with a small, thoughtful smile. “Glad to have you with us, Tyler. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tyler nodded, appreciating the sentiment. The team had his back, and he had theirs—that was something he could always count on. “Same goes for all of you. We make a damn good team.”

The night had grown quiet as the teams gradually retreated to their tents and vehicles, exhausted from the day’s intense storm chase. The hum of conversation and the clinking of bottles had faded, leaving behind only the occasional rustle of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. The stars were beginning to peek through the clouds, casting a dim, silvery light over the makeshift camp.

Tyler sat alone by the dying embers of the fire, nursing the last of his beer. The warmth of the earlier camaraderie lingered, but now it was just him and the night, the solitude giving him time to reflect. His thoughts, however, were far from peaceful—still tangled up in the events of the day, and more specifically, the reappearance of Y/N.

He stared into the darkness, his mind replaying their earlier encounters. Despite his best efforts to shake it off, the memories of their past and the unresolved tension between them gnawed at him. The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel broke his reverie. He looked up, his body tensing instinctively as he recognized the familiar figure approaching from the direction of the Storm Par camp.

Y/N was stumbling slightly, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from her hand. Her usual composed demeanour was gone, replaced by the loose, carefree gait of someone who had had a few too many drinks. Her hair was slightly tousled, and there was a flush to her cheeks that could have been from the alcohol or the lingering effects of the day’s adrenaline.

“Tyler,” she called out, her voice carrying a slurred edge as she made her way toward him. There was a smile on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which were glassy and unfocused.

Tyler felt a mix of emotions—concern, annoyance, and a pang of something deeper, more painful. He stood up as she neared, his brow furrowing as he took in her unsteady state. “Y/N,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “What are you doing out here?”

She waved the beer bottle in the air, nearly losing her balance in the process. “Celebrating,” she replied with a laugh that didn’t quite sound genuine. “Big day, right? We caught a hell of a storm.”

Tyler couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in her tone, the way she was trying to mask whatever was really going on behind a façade of drunken cheerfulness. He took a step closer, ready to catch her if she stumbled again. “Yeah, it was a big day,” he agreed, his voice cautious. “But it’s late. You should head back.”

Y/N ignored his suggestion, instead taking a long swig from the bottle before looking up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why’re you always so serious, Tyler? You were always like that... Always the responsible one.” She punctuated the last words with a playful poke to his chest, but there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her actions.

Tyler’s jaw tightened as he looked down at her, his concern deepening. “Someone had to be,” he said softly, his voice tinged with both frustration and care. “And right now, you need to get some rest.”

Y/N took a step back, swaying slightly as she studied him, her expression shifting to something more sombre. “You’re always trying to fix things, Tyler. But not everything can be fixed, you know?” She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping as the bravado started to fade. “Not everything’s your responsibility.”

Tyler felt a pang of guilt at her words. There was truth in what she said—he had always tried to shoulder the burden, to keep everything in order, even when things were falling apart between them. “I know,” he replied quietly, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “But I can’t just stand by when I see someone I care about struggling.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find something in his words. The tension between them shifted, becoming something more electric, more charged. She took a step closer, her breath brushing against his neck as she looked up at him, her gaze lingering on his lips.

Without thinking, Tyler reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. The moment felt suspended in time, the air around them thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Then, as if pulled by a force neither of them could resist, their lips crashed together in a heated, desperate kiss.

Y/N responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. Tyler’s hands roamed down her back, pulling her closer, feeling the familiar heat between them reignite. It was like no time had passed at all—their bodies remembering the connection they once had, the intensity that had always simmered just beneath the surface.

He broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his voice husky as he whispered against her lips, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Without hesitation, Y/N did as he asked, her legs encircling his waist as he lifted her effortlessly. Tyler's hands gripped her thighs, his lips finding hers again as he carried her toward his truck. They moved together in perfect sync, not breaking the kiss as he maneuverer through the darkness, the urgency of their need driving them forward.

When they reached the truck, Tyler pressed her back against the cool metal, the contrast of the cold against the heat of their bodies sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. He deepened the kiss, his hands gripping her hips tightly, as if afraid to let her go again. She responded with equal fervour, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him as close as possible.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment, in the passion that had been buried for so long. The unresolved tension, the pain, the love—they all collided in that kiss, in the way their bodies moved together, as if trying to reclaim something they had lost.

Finally, Tyler pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a flicker of something deeper—an emotion that went beyond the physical, something that had been lying dormant for years.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She looked up at him, her expression mirroring his own, a mix of longing, regret, and something more profound. “Tyler,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

The night air felt cooler against their heated skin as they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s arms beside Tyler's truck. The world outside the small bubble they’d created was forgotten, leaving only the two of them, bound together by years of unresolved passion and lingering tension.

Tyler's hands slid from Y/N's waist to the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin as he began to lift it. His eyes never left hers, watching the way her breath hitched in anticipation. He pulled the fabric over her head and tossed it aside, his gaze roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of desire and affection.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands traced the curves of her body, fingers grazing over the sensitive spots he knew so well.

Y/N shivered under his touch, her breath quickening as she felt the familiar heat spreading through her. But before she could respond, Tyler leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Still so vocal, aren’t you?”

The words sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped her lips. Tyler chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, vibrating through her as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. His hands slipped to the clasp of her bra, fingers working with practiced ease as he unhooked it and let it fall away.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to take her in, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of her bare chest. “You always did like to make noise,” he teased, his tone playful but laced with a deeper intensity. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing another gasp from her.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold back the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape, but Tyler wasn’t having any of it. He lowered his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, trailing down to her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her whimper.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I want to hear you.”

His words broke through her resolve, and she let out a breathy moan, her hands gripping his shoulders as she arched into him. Tyler grinned against her skin, his lips trailing down to her breast, where he took one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving a gentle tug with his teeth.

Y/N cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged him closer, the sensation overwhelming. “Tyler,” she gasped, her voice thick with need.

He pulled back, just enough to look up at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at how easily he could unravel her. “That’s more like it,” he said, his tone full of teasing triumph. “You always did love it when I made you scream.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and arousal, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. There was something about the way Tyler touched her, the way he knew exactly what buttons to push, that always left her breathless and wanting more.

Tyler’s hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, fingers slipping beneath the fabric as he began to work them down her hips. He took his time, enjoying the way her breath hitched with every inch of skin he exposed. When he finally got them off, he stepped back just a bit, his gaze raking over her with unabashed desire.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and longing.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sincerity in his words, but before she could respond, Tyler was on her again, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over her now nearly naked body, his touch both possessive and tender.

As the kiss deepened, Tyler's fingers found the edge of her panties, teasingly sliding them down her legs as his lips trailed back to her ear. “I’ve missed hearing those little noises you make,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “And I’m going to make sure I hear a lot more of them tonight.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her mind clouded with need as Tyler’s hands explored every inch of her, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He was relentless in his teasing, drawing out every gasp, every moan, until she was trembling with anticipation.

Finally, when she was completely undressed and laid bare before him, Tyler stepped back just enough to admire his work, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of genuine admiration.

Y/N’s heart raced, her body aching for him to close the distance between them again. “Tyler, please,” she whispered, the need in her voice unmistakable.

Tyler grinned, loving the way she was already begging for him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered, “Oh, I’m not done with you yet. I want to hear you lose control.”

And with that, he claimed her mouth again, his hands roaming over her body with renewed fervor, each touch designed to drive her wild, to push her closer to the edge. Y/N responded with equal intensity, her own hands moving to undress him, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Tyler’s breath was heavy as he felt Y/N’s hands on him, their fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. She was desperate to feel his skin against hers, to close the distance that had been too wide for too long. As she finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders, revealing the toned muscles beneath, she ran her hands over his chest, savouring the warmth and solidity of him.

Tyler groaned at her touch, his own hands sliding down her back to pull her closer. Their mouths met again, a clash of hunger and need as they devoured each other. Every kiss, every touch, was laced with the urgency of all the time they’d lost, the years of separation making this reunion even more intense.

As her hands moved down to unbuckle his belt, Tyler couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him. He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as he whispered, “You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s response was a breathless moan as she finally managed to undo his belt, her hands working quickly to free him from his jeans. “I can’t wait any longer,” she murmured, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Tyler chuckled softly, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Good,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Because neither can I.”

With a quick, deft motion, Tyler helped her push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off to the side. The cool night air hit his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from the woman in his arms. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, and they both gasped at the sensation of their bare skin touching, the connection between them electric and undeniable.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt him, hard and ready against her. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but Tyler seemed to delight in drawing it out, taking his time as he ran his hands over her body, memorizing every curve, every shiver.

“Tyler,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she clung to him, her need for him overwhelming.

He smiled against her lips, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

Without hesitation, Y/N obeyed, wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling his strong arms supporting her. The feeling of being held by him, of being completely at his mercy, sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped her lips.

Tyler grinned, loving the sound of her surrender. “There’s that voice I love,” he teased, his tone playful even as his desire for her surged. He shifted her slightly in his arms, positioning her perfectly against him as he pressed her back against the side of the truck. The cold metal was a stark contrast to the heat between them, and Y/N gasped at the sensation.

“Tyler,” she breathed, her hands gripping his shoulders as she looked into his eyes, her own dark with need.

He held her gaze, his expression intense as he slowly, deliberately, pressed his hips forward, teasing her with just the tip. The sensation was almost too much, and Y/N let out a cry, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to pull him closer, but he held back, his control infuriatingly steady.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough with the effort of holding himself back. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the need to feel him completely. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Please, Tyler, I need you.”

Tyler’s control wavered at the sound of her begging, and with a low growl, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting into her in one smooth motion. The sensation of him filling her completely tore a loud, wanton moan from her lips, and she clung to him as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

“That’s it,” Tyler groaned, his voice strained as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, driving her wild with the intensity. “I knew you’d sound just like this.”

Y/N was lost in the sensation, her head thrown back as he set a rhythm that had her gasping for breath, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. The combination of his teasing words and the way he moved inside her was driving her mad, and she could do nothing but hold on to him, her legs tightening around his waist as he drove her higher and higher.

“Tyler,” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation and desire. “I can’t... I can’t...”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hot and ragged as he increased the pace, pushing them both closer to the brink. “Yes, you can,” he whispered, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “I want to hear you come for me.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her, and Y/N could feel the tension inside her coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. She was so close, her body trembling with the effort to hold on, but Tyler wasn’t done with her yet.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dark and velvety as he pressed deep inside her, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between them. The combination of his relentless thrusts and the pressure on her clit was too much, and with a strangled cry, Y/N’s body exploded in pleasure, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her breathless.

Tyler watched her come apart in his arms, the sight of her in ecstasy driving him to the edge. With a few more powerful thrusts, he followed her over the brink, his release crashing over him with a raw intensity that left him trembling.

For a moment, they stayed like that, clinging to each other as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. The night was silent around them, the only sound the heavy, ragged breathing as they slowly came back to themselves.

Finally, Tyler gently lowered her legs, letting her feet touch the ground as he held her close, their foreheads still pressed together. His hands ran soothingly up and down her back, grounding them both in the aftermath of their passion.

“Damn,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty. “Tyler...”

But before she could say anything more, Tyler kissed her again, this time with a tenderness that hadn’t been there before. It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken feelings between them, the things they hadn’t been able to say.

When they finally pulled back, Tyler rested his forehead against hers, his hands still holding her close. “We need to talk,” he said softly, his voice full of the weight of everything that had just happened.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding as she looked into his eyes, knowing that this was just the beginning of a much-needed conversation. “Yeah,” she agreed, her voice just as soft. “We do.”

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

[ranchstoryblog]

PRESS RELEASE: Marvelous USA Shares Valentine’s Day Trailers for Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma’s 16 Romance Candidates*

Across Azuma

Earth Dancers May Find Romance

Start With New Trailers

Whether an Earth Dancer’s true love is a hero or a humble villager or an ancient God, there’s someone for everyone in Azuma… Marvelous USA today released a pair of trailers featuring the romance candidates for Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma, the action-RPG and life-simulation title scheduled for release on the Nintendo Switch™ system and Windows PC via Steam on May 30, 2025.

The first trailer focuses on eight male marriage candidates from across Azuma.

Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma | Romance Candidates Trailer - Bachelors

The second trailer puts the spotlight on Azuma’s eligible bachelorettes.

Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma | Romance Candidates Trailer - Bachelorettes

Romance Candidates

Subaru | Wandering Hero

Left his cold village in the northern part of Azuma on a mission to save the land. Childhood friends with Kaguya who hails from the same hometown. Usually relaxed and easygoing. Enjoys gazing at the sky. While generally not a fan of battle, he has a strong sense of justice and will fight fiercely to protect his friends and loved ones.

Kaguya | Wandering Hero

Left her cold village in the northern part of Azuma on a mission to save the land. Childhood friends with Subaru who hails from the same hometown. Loves being in nature, especially when she’s interacting with animals and observing flowers. Although usually calm, she despises evil and resents any acts of injustice.

Iroha | Cheerful Teahouse Proprietress

The owner of Iroha's Teahouse in Spring Village. A friendly, caring young woman who dreams of revitalizing Spring Village and returning it to its former glory.

Murasame | Swordsman Seeking Greatness

A samurai who wanders Azuma with the goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman. Master of the Munen Muso sword style, which means "free from empty thoughts." Spends his days training and keeping his sword in good condition.

Hina | Mysterious Archaeologist

A half-human, half-fox were-animal who arrives in Azuma on an airship with Mauro. Claims to be an archaeologist. Childhood events instilled in her a strong desire to help others.

Mauro | Adventurer Who Sails the Skies

A self-proclaimed treasure hunter from a foreign land who came to Azuma by airship in search of a legendary treasure. This sentimental soul is easily moved to tears.

Ulalaka | Peaceful God of Spring and Mirth

Azuma's kind, gentle god of spring and merriment. Her benevolence knows no bounds and she simply wants everyone to live happy, peaceful lives.

Matsuri | Boisterous God of Summer and Swords

Azuma's carefree god of summer and swords. Enjoys physical activities of all kinds. Despite being a master of the blade, she tends to solve problems with brute force instead.

Kurama | Astute God of Autumn and Wind

Azuma's calm, cool-headed god of autumn and the wind. Well-versed in a wide variety of subjects. Due to his tactical nature, he excels at every game imaginable, both ancient and modern.

Fubuki | Half-Beast God of Winter and Water

Azuma's warmhearted wolf god of winter and water. A somewhat anxious soul who hates to hurt others.

Kanata | Prestigious God of Light and the Heavens

Azuma's god of light and the heavens. Acts as the gods' official representative. Serious and intelligent, but also prone to flights of fancy.

Kai | Oni God of the Underworld

A leader of the oni feared for his incredible strength. Although a bit selfish and rough around the edges, he treats his retainers well. Always wears a mask that hides his true face.

Clarice | Deadly Beauty

The leader of a mysterious group that traveled to Azuma to further some unknown goal. A cold, battle-hardened soldier who fears little. Her long blonde hair flutters behind her as she fights.

Ikagura | Mystic Leader of the Jingasa Corps

A mystic from the capital who leads the Jingasa Corps. Mild-mannered by nature, but when his personal goals are at stake, he stops at nothing to achieve them.

Pilika | Huntress Who Honors All Life

A quiet, plain-spoken hunter who hails from Azuma's far north. Her hunting skills know no peer, and she feels deep respect for every living thing.

*Available via “Seasons of Love” DLC bundle

Cuilang | Soft-Spoken Puppet Master

A mechanical expert who lives in Autumn Village. Although he speaks little and socializes even less, the other villagers can always rely on him, and he never turns away a soul in need.

*Available via “Seasons of Love” DLC bundle

About Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma

Guardians of Azuma takes players on an all-new adventure in the never-before-seen country of Azuma. Here, players will assume the role of an Earth Dancer destined to return hope—and life—to the once-thriving land. Choose from one of two protagonists whose fates are closely tied together, and experience reimagined and expanded Rune Factory gameplay; as Earth Dancer, players will farm with grace, restore and build entire villages, and fight with new weapons like the Bow and Talismans. Azuma is a vast world to explore with majestic villages to uncover, each taking inspiration from Japanese culture and each with a seasonal theme. In addition to exploration, combat, and village-building, players will also cultivate relationships with the locals, recruiting them to your side in battle or to help manage the villages. Wield sacred treasures of the gods and the Earth Dancer’s power of dance to purify the land and return Azuma to its former glory. The adventure of a new world awaits.

Pre-orders for the Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma “Earth Dancer Edition” are now available via the Marvelous USA Online Store and at participating retailers for an MSRP of $99.99. This stunning collection comes in a custom outer box featuring awe-inspiring art of a battle high above Azuma, and includes a physical copy of the game, an original soundtrack CD, an art book, an Azuma-inspired folding fan, a plush Woolby keychain, and a substantial DLC pack, which includes the “Seasons of Love Bundle,” the “Festive Attire and Dark Woolby Bundle,” the “Rune Factory 4 Hero Outfit Bundle,” the “Rune Factory 4 Bachelorette Outfit Bundle,” and the Useful Item Bundle. The standard edition of the game is also available to pre-order for an MSRP of $59.99. Details on digital editions and pricing will be announced later.

Developed by Marvelous and published in the Americas by Marvelous USA, Rune Factory: Guardians of Azuma is scheduled for release globally on the Nintendo Switch™ system and Windows PC via Steam on May 30, 2025. The title will be published in Japan by Marvelous Inc. and in Europe by Marvelous Europe. More information can be found on the official website, https://na.runefactory.com/azuma/, and on X @RuneFactory. This title has been rated “T for Teen” by the ESRB.

Information about Marvelous USA’s products can be found at www.marvelous-usa.com. Fans can also check out the latest videos from the Marvelous family of titles on YouTube and get updates by following on Facebook, X, Instagram, and BlueSky.

[leonsdolly]

Tammy Faye

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you love Leon so much, you'd do anything for him.

CW: nsfw 18+, angst, obsession, depictions of murder, subby Leon, oral (m receiving)

WC: 4.4k

A/N: inspired by Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger !

Red, black, red, black! Your hands are painted with the brilliant scarlet hue as you scrub them vigorously under the freezing tap water. You glance up at the filthy mirror to catch a glimpse of yourself. Black streaks of mascara trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the blood splattered across them like unholy rouge on a Venetian mask. You force a smile through the cracked exterior. Pierrot gone rogue. If he’d stabbed Harlequin eighteen times in a truckstop bathroom less than ten miles from Raccoon City and made sure to pose him all special for a handsome cop to find.

It’s as if all you see these days are red and black. How you long to catch a glimpse of the blue that swirls your lover’s eyes. The faint baby blue shadow you had applied that morning was a poor substitute. You screw your eyes shut and try to picture the particular shade of cerulean that you live for. His lovely face is overtaken by the gut-wrenching smell of copper and mildew as you open your eyes and continue scrubbing at your flesh. No matter, you’ll see him soon. For now, you focus on washing away all evidence of your inundating love. You scrub harder and harder and harder. Jesus, how much blood could a girl hold?

After what feels like eons under the flickering fluorescent light, you turn the rusty faucet off and smile widely at your reflection again. If Leon were to see you now, would he be enraptured by the way your thick mascara coated lashes frame your teary eyes like a doll that’s been trapped in an unopened box, forced to watch the most heartbreaking scenes play out through the unrelenting acetate sheet? You shake your head forcefully, expelling those thoughts out. The cops will be here soon. A twinge of giddiness zaps through your heart at the thought. He’ll be here soon.

You reapply a fresh coat of red lipstick - Dior, of course, before taking one last look around the dingy restroom. It’s filthy, but it was your personal respite for the past few hours. You wrinkle your nose at the row of grotesque urinals lined up against the dirt encrusted wall. They were filled with mysterious liquids that made your stomach churn. Thick reddish-brown goop that lay still with unidentifiable objects submerged within like a bog in Hell. Who would even think of doing something as disgusting as sticking their hand in? You turn away and push the door open to be greeted by the warm summer air. The night sky looms over you, a black sheet covered in stars that twink and blink and wink down at you as if to say “your secret’s safe with us.”

While this truckstop is gross, its beauty lies in the fact that it’s tiny and desolate as hell. Sure, the city is less than ten miles away, but the dense forestry surrounding the Arklay Mountains provides some coverage along the highway, shielding this particular stop from careless eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could miss it altogether unless you paid close attention to the fading signs. And because this was in the middle of nowhere, there weren’t any workers manning the facility at night. You wink back up at the stars and circle around the bathroom towards the gaggle of deserted semi-trucks, towards the one with its back door unlatched and open for all to see, towards her. 

She sits up unnaturally, thanks to the crate you had propped up against her back. The emptiness of the semi’s trailer looks as if it’s about to swallow her for all that she’s got like a black hole. The shadows of moths fluttering against the lights dance over her, contrasting the stillness of her features. You tilt your head as you cross your arms and glare up at her. You’re still prettier, right? Her skin has taken on a sallow tone that appears even more unflattering in the harsh fluorescent light. Her hair is tangled and matted with blood. The black blouse she wears is torn and looks even darker with the stains covering it. You gently smack your lips, feeling the satisfaction of freshly applied lipstick. The whore got what was coming. 

Gone were the nights of crying on the kitchen floor as Tammy Wynette played from another room. Gone were the days of having to excuse yourself in the staff restroom at the station to wipe the raven smudges away from your eyes. Gone were the moments of sheer exasperation and disgust as you watched her touch his uniform clad shoulders and lean in close to let him brush his lips over her own.

You pull your dainty white lace-trimmed gloves out of your pocket and slip them on before padding over to the lonesome payphone. You deposit a quarter before carefully dialing the three digits that would summon your lover like Beatrice descending from Paradise.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a dead body at the old truckstop about ten miles south of Raccoon City.” Click.

You put the inky black phone back on the receiver before smiling uncontrollably. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the anticipation of seeing him very soon washes over you. You love him so madly, you’re convinced the only way out of it is 500 mg of midazolam, 100 mg of vecuronium bromide, and 240 mEq of good ol’ potassium chloride.

The dense forest behind the truckstop beckons you with open arms, and you oblige. You skip over to a spot that will allow you to have a front row view of what’s about to transpire while keeping you hidden among the foliage. From here, you can see the girl sitting up with deadweight limbs like a marionette being forced upright with invisible strings. The strings are in your hands, but you were forced to seize control of them from her. Who knows what her influence would have done to Leon?

A bat of her clumpy lashes here, a hand on his firm shoulder there, and your Leon voluntarily hooked himself onto the strings, dancing to the tune she hums from her spot in the dingy break room. You suppose you can't fault him entirely; it's in his nature to grin bashfully and gaze at a woman who fawns over him with lovesick eyes. After all, that's what you love about your sweet rookie cop. Sweeter than candy floss, tantalizing in every aspect like a perfect little peach ready to be plucked from Eden. He just needs to realize that you had always been leaning against the counter of that break room, observing the two with astute grace.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the chief’s office?” You dissolved.

The first words he had ever uttered to you solidified that you wanted all his words, and you would give him yours. You can’t even remember what you had responded with, lost in the tranquility of his eyes and splendor of his smile. You didn’t miss the way those eyes softly ran over your cream silk blouse, caressing and thumbing over the first few buttons for a peek of something more, something buried deep within your soul. Those lips pulled back to beam at you, beckoning you to press every part of you onto them until you shed black tears from a warmth you weren’t accustomed to.

You hear the sirens approaching from your protected spot, silently thanking nature for watching over you while the love of your life approaches.

“Come get your gift, sweetheart,” you murmur. “It's all for you, everything I do…”

Your heart thumps faster as the sirens scream louder and louder until they reach the truckstop. The slam of car doors echo throughout the otherwise silent night air as the officers’ frantic voices jumble over each other. You hold your breath as you identify your darling's voice among the two; your heart is about to blast off for the moon, leaving a red heart-shaped chemtrail behind it for all to see.

Some tinkering with flashlights and crackle of walkie-talkies, and there he is.

Leon rounds the corner to face the semi’s trailer, face going slack as he takes in the stage you set for him. He stands transfixed before her, immobilized like he’s now the one behind the acetate sheet. A pretty Ken doll, waiting for someone to tug at his strings.

His partner, Officer Redfield, flanks the semi as he joins Leon. “Fuck.”

Officer Redfield wastes no time in flinging open the car door and jamming his button to radio dispatch while his partner pales in the moonlight. You can't really make out what he's saying to dispatch but the terms “DOA” and “requesting units” and her name float over to you. When dispatch has confirmed that backup is on the way, Officer Redfield walks over to Leon and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Leon shakes his head, a little dazed, a little frantic, but pretty just the same, and your thighs clench together. “How could this have happened again, Chris?”

Officer Redfield sighs heavily as he gazes up at the displayed corpse with unease. “I don't know. Goddamn it…”

He says something about how great of a colleague she was and how the entire station would miss her, but you can scarcely hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. Your beloved had asked how something like this could have happened again. Again. He knew. He was at least putting the pieces together. Your cheeks hurt from beaming in the shadows of the foliage; he was acknowledging the gifts you had bestowed upon him. A girl from a coffee shop whose smile drew him in like a shrimp to an anglerfish. A brute of a man who dared to connect his fist to such a lovely cheek during a drunken brawl at a bar. Both posed for his lovely eyes only, their last moments entombed in the polaroids tucked away in your desk drawer.

I’ve done it again, you silently mouth to him. I’ve done it again.

He doesn’t show up to work the next day. Or the day after that and the day after that and the day after that, and your organs fail.

An entire week passes, leaving your heart to writhe in agony from his absence. You stare forlornly at his empty desk from your own, shuffling papers mindlessly and feeling your hand twitch towards the letter opener whenever Chief Irons walks by - the bastard was the one who granted your darling “time off” to “process his emotions.”

A feeling of solemnity looms over the entire station as it whispers in hushed tones about who could’ve ripped away its beloved receptionist, a young woman who was in the prime of her life. The collective mourning is enough to make you want to vomit all over her desk, covering the slab of wood in your spite. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

You skim your fingers over the mahogany surface of Leon’s desk, feeling every crevice he feels as he hastily writes up reports and laughs at the other officers’ jokes like an angel breathing life into humans formed from dust. You long to see his splendorous face again, long to hear the stumbling of his words as his superiors tease him, long to inhale his reassuring scent as you brush past him to heat up your food in the break room. 

“You friends with him or something?” Officer Redfield’s voice shatters you out of your reverie with a jolt. 

“Oh, um, kinda…” Your voice softens at the question. Were you friends? Absolutely not. You were something better.

“Well, a few of us are gonna take him out tonight. Try to cheer him up after everything that’s been going on. Hell, we all need to cheer up. That last one hit way too close to home, especially for Kennedy.” His expression grows solemn. Three unsolved murders in such a short amount of time doesn’t necessarily boast confidence in the local police department. “You should come.”

You’re hesitant to respond. While your instincts are screaming at you to politely decline the invitation and instead observe the gathering from afar, a part of you realizes that you’ll get to be close to him. The thought makes you flutter like a little lacy thing in the wind that’s been pinned to a clothesline for as long as it can remember.

“I’d like that, thanks for inviting me.” You beam up at Officer Redfield. “You’ve all worked so hard. You deserve to relax as much as possible.”

“I don’t know about that.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it looks like he wants nothing more than to tip his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, burning and clawing and gnawing at his esophagus until his vision turns black. “That’s three families who are cryin’ themselves to sleep, wonderin’ why this is happening to them.”

“Right.” Your eyebrows raise together in a display of faux sympathy, and your lovely mouth twists in a way that one could interpret as a pout of sorrow.

Where was the collective empathy when you were crying yourself to sleep every night while he was undoubtedly hugging her to his chest as they slept peacefully without a care in the world? Where was the justice in forcing yourself to be satisfied by your own fingers knowing it was a poor substitute for the heavenly cock filling her up? Where was the sense in any of it?

You slip back into an easy grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Raucous laughter and clinking of glasses and billiard balls missing their shots surround you as you enter a bar that’s rather homely in its own way. Your nerves are powerful enough to puncture flesh as you had primped and fussed over your appearance beforehand. This is your first outing with Leon, and you know that looking like anything less than Aphrodite’s descendant is not an option.

You see him before anyone else, just the way it’s always been. A modern-day Adonis standing unsuspectingly among the mediocre. His beauty wafts over to you like the aroma of honey and vanilla and brown sugar brewing on a stove, sweet and utterly tantalizing. It wraps itself around you, commanding you to drink it in until you relinquish all control. You’ve already given it all up for him. Gazing at him like he’s your cult leader, ready to usher you into the New World where it’s just you and him and no one else. You’ll do anything to preserve that world.

You make your way over to the group, greeting them and exchanging pleasantries before ordering your own drink. He’s leaning haphazardly on the edge of a pool table, and you casually stand by him, gripping onto your glass with trembling fingers.

He looks rather exhausted. Faint shadows encircle his eyes, and his blonde hair is a little mussed. His clothes are slightly rumpled, and he looks glumly at the tequila in his hand. His cheeks are painted with a subtle flush from the alcohol. You try not to reveal the utter state of adoration he’s put you in as you speak up.

“How are you, Officer Kennedy?”

He throws you a sidelong glance, and you catch it with bambi eyes. “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You feel as though he’s taken an ax to every single appendage as you giggle softly and tell him your name.

He gives you a small smile as he nods at you. “I see you in the breakroom a lot.” His smile heals the bloody mess he just made, regenerating your wounds until you feel whole again.

“I do too. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” You tilt your head sympathetically to show him you really care about his well-being. The angle also shows off your good side.

“Thanks,” he sighs. “I don’t know how something like this could’ve happened to her. Been beating myself up all this time wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this from happening. I don’t know. Sounds kinda crazy, but the other two cases we had felt pretty c-close to me too… You think I’m being real self-centered for that or something? It’s only my first year on the force, and I-I’m trying to process all of this. S’a shitty feeling…” His lets his drunken ramble fade away.

“I think you’re a good and kind person who is just trying to make sense of some horrible events that have happened.” You gently touch his arm as a way of offering comfort, and the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips evokes an overwhelming surge in between your legs. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Officer Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for anything.”

He blinks back tears that are starting to brim along his heavenly lashes, and your clit throbs underneath your dress. 

“I really appreciate that.” He smiles at you again which brings forth another wave of sticky arousal in your panties. “And Leon’s fine. Don’t need to do any of that ‘Officer’ stuff with me.”

“Leon.” Your favorite word in the world rolls off your tongue with practiced grace. He doesn’t need to know that you cling to the two syllables every night with frenzied cries as you try desperately to make yourself cum.

“Leon, what do you say we find somewhere a little more quiet? It can get pretty rambunctious and overwhelming in these places…” You lean in closer to gaze up at him underneath your pretty lashes, allowing your carefully selected fragrance to pull him under the depths of your desire, a siren calling out to the shipwrecked prince.

He lets out a stutter as the alcohol-induced blush dusted over his nose and cheeks intensifies further. It’s enough to put a Botticelli painting to shame.

“S-somewhere quiet would be good.”

You give his arm a gentle pat before leading him outside where the crisp night air kisses your faces, giving two lovers a proper welcome. The back of the bar is relatively secluded, and there is a small wooden bench that you promptly perch yourselves on. For the next minute or so, the two of you sit in silence. Your heart is about to blast off towards the moon as the realization that he’s here with his thigh pressed against yours hits you hard.

“Thanks for listening to me back there,” he finally murmurs with his eyes cast downwards. “I don't really want to get into that with the others.”

“Why not? They care about you, and want to make sure you’re okay.” I’m the only one you need, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.

“To be honest… I don't want them to think that I can’t handle myself. That I’m still just a stupid weak rookie who can’t compartmentalize his emotions like a real man.”

“Oh, Leon…” Darling, sweetheart, baby. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You’re a talented cop and a great person. You feel everything the way you want to feel. No one’s judging you or looking down on you for it. Trust me on that.”

You’re so caught up in reassuring him that you don’t realize your hand has floated up to cup his cheek until he stammers something unintelligible. You let your thumb rub soothing circles on his soft skin as you continue.

“I mean, anyone can tell how kind and sweet and smart and skilled you are. You have the respect of everyone at work, including mine…”

His flustered expression causes your breath to hitch as you gently brush his bottom lip with your thumb. You could write poetry inspired by the way his lips curve into a shy smile, pulling his faint dimples out of their slumber and letting sweet nothings be whispered to them under the moonlight.

“You want me to make everything better, baby?” You let your murmur be as soothing as possible, an elixir that promises to heal the broken man before you.

He nods bashfully as your forehead touches his. You let your hand fall from his face, and he whines softly at the loss of warmth, and as much as you’d love to mentally record the sound so that it’s playing over and over in your brain for those unfulfilling nights on the kitchen floor, you swallow it up with your own lips.

Your first kiss is what people go to war for. As your lips move together in tandem, you’re overcome with nostalgia for a time when the aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafts through the home and neighbors wave to each other over their white picket fences and Leon comes home with a twinkle in his eyes as he kisses you and the bundle in your arms.

This is why you did what you did.

He whimpers into your mouth as the kiss grows deeper. His hands roam down to your waist, squeezing gently at your sides as you let your tongue intertwine with his. You move your lips south, along his jaw and towards his neck where you set up camp. He lets out a whine as you press your lips particularly hard against the sensitive spot by his throat, taking care to pay attention to the two little moles peeking back up at you.

“P-please…” He gasps at another scrape of your teeth against his delicate skin.

“Just leaving a few marks to remember me by,” you coo. “Making my pretty boy even prettier.”

To your delight, his hips shift uncomfortably at your words. You lower your hand to meet his crotch, gently palming the growing bulge underneath his jeans. His head tips back, proclaiming open season on his throat to which you attack with vigor. Your thighs squeeze together as your lover pants towards the moon. You’re so focused on making your pretty boy feel good with your soft rubs and passionate kisses that you’ve scarcely paid any attention to the soaking gusset of your panties.

You slowly but surely lower yourself to the ground, internally cringing at the feeling of dirt on your knees. Oh well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever gotten on you. You perch yourself in between his legs and fumble with his belt buckle. His head returns to its original position as he gazes down at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to, baby. I said I’d make everything better, right?”

“Mmm, yeah.” 

He sighs as you successfully unclasp his buckle and shimmy his hardened cock out of his boxers. You preen at the sight - it’s pretty, just like the rest of him, and weeping for your attention. You gingerly take it in your hands, marveling at the girth as you stroke it up and down with slow movements. He whimpers at the feeling and involuntarily bucks his hips up so that he fucks into your hand. You let him do this a few times before deciding enough is enough.

“What do you want me to do, sweet boy? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Your m-mouth,” he whispers.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” you tease as you hover your lips over the head.

“Want you to put your mouth on it,” he says, sounding more brave. How cute.

You hum in approval as you plant a kiss on the flushed tip of his cock which elicits the sexiest moan you’ve heard from him all night. Your hips roll against nothing, seeking pleasure for the ache in your cunt, but you force yourself to ignore it. You can’t be selfish tonight.

You softly lick at the sides before working on enveloping his length with your warm mouth. You bob your head up and down, relishing in the heavenly noises escaping his lips. You savor the taste of him as you slowly lift your head off to suckle at the tip before diving back in again, letting each inch tease against your throat. Your cheeks hollow out as you gaze up at him through your mascara covered lashes, letting your eyes go hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he heaves as he grips onto the hem of his shirt for an anchor. It’s all too much - your puffy lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the black tears trickling down your cheeks as you take him in for everything he’s got, the way you’re massaging his balls to heighten his pleasure. “I’m gonna-”

You pull all the way off, and you swear he almost cries.

“P-please, keep going. Please make me cum, I was almost there…” Tears bead along his lash line, and he desperately reaches for you. Your heart swells as you feel your emotions crash over you at the sight of the man you love crying for you to make him orgasm. How far you’ve come since those melancholy nights on the kitchen floor.Their sacrifices weren’t in vain after all. 

You smile up at him and proceed to pleasure him in the way you can - the way he deserves. The lewd slurping sounds you make fill the air, and he tries not to thrust harshly into your mouth, but it’s all too overwhelming when you’re sucking his cock like it’s your favorite thing to do in the world.

He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched moan as he bursts into your waiting mouth. You swallow his load, savoring the taste of his cum and trying to commit the feeling of it all into your memory. You pull off of his softening cock and press kisses to his twitching thighs as you observe his blissful state. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. His cheeks are as flushed as ever and a bit of drool has escaped onto his chin. 

“Th-thank you,” he breathes.

“The pleasure was all mine.” You help him get fully dressed again and capture his lips in one more kiss.

“Do you maybe want to come over tonight? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to… I-I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.” His eyes are begging, and who are you to deprive them of their desires?

“I’d love to.” You smile sweetly at him and take his hand to lead him to the car, winking up at the stars as you do.

[respectthepetty]

Your Sky is another university BL, which means I, once again, will be fighting my sworn enemy — school uniforms.

But, luckily, I already know what I'm up against and spotted the colors from the trailers.

Muenfah, aka Fah, is a Blue Boy.

He and his friends have been incorrectly rumored to be mysterious and powerful Black Brooders by their peers.

But he is just exhibiting the negative traits of his blue color by being distant and impersonal.

So it's great that he ran into Teerak (or did Teerak run into him?) with his yellow cloth.

Because Teerak is a cheerful and chatty Yellow Yal who will provide balance to Fah's default distant demeanor and yank him out of his comfort zone.

Teerak comes from a colorful and happy family.

But it seems like Fah comes from a family of cold and emotionally closed-off people since I think even his brother seems like a Blue Boy, or Pun might be an actual secretive Black Brooder.

And normally I would rely on the phones being color-coded, but this show is giving me something different with color-coded iPads!

Joy in her pink jacket with her pink iPad and pink accented phone is a Pink Person.

And even though Type doesn't have a color-coded iPad, he does have green-colored headphones, so I think this forgetful and chill friend is a Green Guy.

He also had green text on his shirt at the party while Teerak had red already blossoming from his chest after running into Fah, so I don't need phones or iPads to feel sure about these colors.

And although we might not see sis again, she came, she served, and she was a Pink Person. Everyone pray we get to see her again.

But this is all to emphasize that everything about Teerak's life is very colorful. He is the bright sun coming out to make a rainbow.

Even Oh, being 🎶The Worst🎶, knows that Teerak is the yellow sun at the center of this universe since he got Teerak sunflowers.

But Blue Boy Fah easily gave Teerak his heart without a second thought, much like he is about to give Teerak everything he wants without hesitation.

It's like the red thread of destiny was always connecting these two color-coded boys who are about to be in love.

But first they have to get past one small barrier between them.

Which doesn't take long since, like I wrote, Teerak will force Fah to step out of his nice box of isolation without even trying.

Because Yellow Yals are impatient and don't like to be kept waiting, so Fah will have to move quickly to keep up with Teerak in everyday life and in love.

But, like I mentioned, fate seems to be saying their were destined.

And gave Fah the pink equals love light.

Which he knew exactly what to do with.

So really, fate gave Fah a head start.

And true to his Blue Boy-ness, he was smart enough to take it.

Good for him since he is going to need all the help he can get to handle his Yellow Yal and his colorful crew.

Where's his friends when he needs them?

Probably making out with each other if fate is on my side.