#To build the endorphins you know!

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Hi Brie!!! How have you been? I've missed you! I'm sorry I wasn't around lately. I have to catch up with you posts. I hope you're doing well! I've missed you! - 💎💎💎

i missed you so much 😭 i thought you were gone forever 😭😭😭 I posted like a little “where is my 💎💎💎 anon?” A few days ago but i got embarrassed and deleted it 😰

I’m fine! I’ve been pretty sad these days (between you and me) but I just got back to work and it’s been fine so I can’t complain too much! How have you been? Still letting work kill you?!

[honeybellabuilds]

sea breeze-cooled coffee

[madigoround]

I was at the gym for about an hour and fifteen minutes tonight and about 45 of those minutes I was the only one there except for the person working the check in desk and I tell you it really has me wondering if I should feel some level of shame for not having something better and more social to do on a Friday night

[hurlingdown]

BURN, BABY, BURN — TOP MALE READER X TRAFALGAR LAW

synopsis. when omega! law gets thrown into burning heat after smelling one of your shirts, it's only sensible that the origin of his misfortune compensates for it. in this case, you, an alpha, have no choice but to pleasure him throughout his heat until he's well-pupped and satisfied.

tags. omega! law, alpha! reader. breeding (pups), knotting, mating press, stomach bulge, law has a pretty pussy, vaginal sex, biting, scenting

Law was burning up. 

He hadn’t meant to take a deep inhale of your scent lingering on the oversized hoodie you left at his room—it had been so darn tempting, you couldn’t blame him. But now there he was, lying on the bed and wearing it, pressing the collar to his nose to smell as his insides burned, ached with a searing need. 

He was conscious enough to understand what was going on, but his heat wasn’t due until next week and he had taken blockers, so something wasn’t adding up. Nothing could explain the way he woke up sweaty, cunt oozing with slick and skin itching for a certain touch, feeling safe because it was your scent that wrapped around him. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes squeezing shut as the tip of his finger snaked into his boxers to tease his clit. He hadn’t even realised when he had taken off his pants, but the thick material of the hoodie was already suffocating him with a pleasant warmth, and only god knows if he’d die of a heat stroke right then if there was one more extra layer of clothing sticking to him. 

Law wanted. He wanted a nest of things that smelled good, one where his alpha could make fervent love to him in a blissful flurry of endorphins and pheromones, of cock and knot and more, more, more—

It felt so empty. Not enough. 

He blinked his eyes open to find his neatly arranged pillows and smoothed out bedsheets way too clean and bare, devoid of sin. The mouth-watering scent from the hoodie had slightly faded now that his scent had mingled with yours, and he found himself spreading his legs to a ghost of a figure. 

Law wanted to cry. 

He was so painfully wet, soaked enough to keep going for days on end, give his alpha pups, let you breed him and be so good for you—but he knew that was just wishful thinking. You would never want him. To you, he was just another friend. And there Law was, playing with himself to dirty, unholy thoughts of you claiming him, one good, strong bite on the neck would do, bloody canines sinking down into his swollen scent glands, marking him as yours—

His chest gave a lurch, and he shamefully pulled out his hand from his boxers, letting out a shiver as the skin-tight cloth slapped onto his oversensitive crotch. 

His alpha wasn’t interested. Law wasn’t good enough. No tits for suckling, a toned build that people often mistook for an alpha’s, a body not meant for mating. His alpha wasn’t interested, wasn’t there for him at his most vulnerable, and Law understood why. 

In a trance-like state, he half-dragged himself to his feet and shoved everything that smelled like you onto the bed—things that you had touched during your stay: books that your hands had once opened—the pages now lingering with scent, clothes that you had helped him fold—now they smelled faintly of you. There was the one lamp that sat at the corner of his desk—you had switched it on earlier, and he found himself pressing his nose to its knob, trying to catch a whiff of your scent. Almost anything would do.

He roughly piled them all onto the mattress to form a ring where he could sleep in the middle, desperate to fill the void in his wanting heart. 

Law woke up to a thick, comforting waft of pheromones that immediately flooded his senses. 

The fever that had been brewing inside him for the past few hours hadn’t simmered at all, and he rubbed his thighs together to feel slick running down them, viscous and sticky. There was a damp sensation on his cheeks, probably from crying himself to sleep, earlier. He didn’t feel good, he felt miserable, but the ache had now dulled. 

“Law?” 

His eyes snapped to the door. There was someone out there. Law couldn’t tell if they were an alpha or not, but no one, not even his crew, should be approaching him right now. Not when he was in this state. He had a reputation to maintain, he was a feared captain of the seas, one that sent men trembling to their knees, not a whiny, pathetic mess of a horny omega—

“It’s me. I—came back to get my hoodie. I think I left it here. Fuck, I can smell you from here. Are you okay?” 

Oh. 

His omega crooned softly as his thoughts cleared enough to register that yes, this was your voice, you were there for him, he was going to be okay. That was enough to ease the hurt in his chest and prompt an ungodly amount of slick leaking from his cunt, but whenever he opened his mouth to say something, all that came out were soft purrs that beckoned you closer, closer, inside. 

You persisted when he stayed quiet. “Are you in heat? Do you need anything? Should I… get someone to help you?” 

Law growled low in his throat at the absurdity of the suggestion—getting someone to help him when his alpha was right there. You had to be fucking insane to suggest that. 

“Come in,” he demanded, or more like tried to, because he had whined at the same time and it sounded more like a sultry moan. 

“W-what? I can’t. If you’re in heat, that would make it worse—” 

Law didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. You were the only person out there who could ever soothe the agony his body was going through right now, and there you were, saying that you would make it worse by being near him. 

“Y/n-ya, please. I need you.” 

And then he did the next most despicable thing he wouldn’t ever do if he wasn’t in heat, wasn’t aching for his alpha’s touch. He craned his neck, purposefully letting out an obscene amount of pheromones, waiting for it to pervade his room before it seeped out from under the door. Making sure you could smell how much he needed you. 

“Law, are—are you sure about this?” Your voice was strained from holding back, and you wanted to take him already, mark his pretty neck up with purple teeth marks until he was sobbing with how good he was feeling, how full he felt. 

“Yes—hurry.” 

The creak of the door opening barely dawned on Law before it was slammed shut again, his alpha’s hands on the back of his legs, spreading them wide, feeling warm and smelling good. 

“Alpha,” he panted. “Alpha.” 

“You’re so fucking wet. Shit, are you wearing my hoodie? Is that mine?” 

Law nodded, not that he had a use for it anymore—you were right there, scent heavy and pressed up against him so close that he could almost feel the outline of your cock against his cunt. He wanted it inside, and it wasn’t happening fast enough. 

“Take everything off,” he murmured. “Inside, now, hurry, alpha—”  

You shrugged off your shirt and jeans before pulling your hoodie and Law’s boxers off—they were completely drenched, and you were certain that you could squeeze slick out if you twisted it. 

A needy whine cut your thoughts short. “Hurry!” 

“Wait—fuck, I need a condom, do you have any—?” 

Before you could finish, Law had reached up to wrap his arms around your neck, dragging you down for a wet, messy kiss. To your bewilderment, he had started nudging his lower half towards you, rutting his unclad cunt on your cock while he shuddered and whimpered into the kiss. 

“Want pups,” he pleaded, eyes glassy. “Can’t give you pups that way.” 

Carnal desire ripped through you at the thought of impregnating him, marking him as yours in a way even a mating bite couldn’t—ruining him for anyone else, because by the time you were done with him, he would be bearing the seed of your sin. You let out a snarl, fingers digging into his thighs to put him in a mating press, thrusting forward once, twice to get your cock sliding against his folds. 

Law gave a little wail, his cunt tightening as his hips bucked up, trying to get you inside him. “Y/n-ya—fuck me, please, want it, need it so bad—” 

You nudged the fat, blunt head of your cock into his hole, feeling the rest slide in easily with all the slick he was producing. His burning walls pulsed around you as he keened, relishing in the feeling of finally, finally, instinctively trying to get you to knot him already. 

The first slap against his hips was loud and filthy, but then you started to pick up the pace as you felt him loosen up, get even more wetter, trying to be good and easy for you. 

“Law—” you moaned, “you’re so good. I’m gonna give you what you want, ‘kay? Gonna make you round with my children.” 

He answered you with a choked-up cry, nails raking down your shoulders as he desperately nodded yes, as though saying please, alpha, breed me, make me yours. 

You fucked into his sopping cunt over and over, pinching his clit to feel him clench around you harder, making him scream your name. At some point you had leaned down to kiss him, swallowing his pretty moans, and he had crushed his legs around your waist so suddenly, making you jolt forward. 

And then he was cumming hard on your cock, locking up tight and trying to keep you inside, whining and sobbing as you fucked him through his orgasm. You felt your knot start to build as the friction inside grew with each thrust, mindlessly muttering about how perfect he was and felt, almost high on the good kind of hormones that made your cock leak heavy with pre-cum, easing the ride. 

“So, so fuckin’ pretty, and good, wanna bite you so hard—” 

“Do it,” Law sobbed out, “‘m all yours, alpha.”

You settled for biting his shoulder instead of his neck, making him whimper loud, cunt locking up around you again to cum for a second time. A gush of liquid pushed out around your knot as you drove forward to the brim, and you felt it get heavier and heavier, making you gasp and heave with pleasure so intense it was going to send you into overdrive. With one more heavy thrust, you groaned out as you came, tainting his hole with the impiety of your seed. 

Your knot swelled inside him until it bulged out from the surface right below his heart tattoo. Law gaped in awe while you tried to get a grip on yourself. 

“It’s your—?” he asked uncertainly, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“—fuck, should be, yeah.” 

He raised a finger to press into the small bump, shuddering when your knot dug into his insides deeper. 

“It’s,” he muttered, frowning adorably as he looked for a word to describe it. “Rather cute.” 

“Is it? You like it?” 

Law continued to remain fixated on the bulge. “... No, not really.” 

You chuckled at his blatant lie, leaning down to kiss him—sweaty and exhausted now, chest slightly heaving with breath, but feeling full and pupped. 

“You—didn’t mark me,” Law muttered, all of a sudden. 

“Wanted to save it for later,” you assured him. “Hope that’s okay.” 

His eyebrows furrowed, but then you started distracting him by planting kisses on his neck, at the same time letting out your scent until you couldn’t differentiate between his and yours. He purred at this, going lax in your arms, exposing more of his neck to let you do whatever you wanted. 

“Think I might be able to go again,” you murmured against his skin, “in a few minutes.” 

“Good. I’m not done with you yet, y/n-ya.” 

Your knot felt sore already, and your muscles ached—but with Law underneath you, soft-eyed and pliant and so unlike his usual self, all you wanted to do was to keep him happy and satisfied. Even if it took draining you dry for a week to achieve that. For now, he was all yours, and you would do almost anything to make it stay that way.  masterlist! p.s. based on this drabble. good lord. y'all asked for this - i hope i delivered. uhhh this is totally not favouritism by the way

[bloomzone]

GLOW UP DIARY #5 : FIND YOUR PURPOSE

"pain is a price to pay for happiness"

-kim seungmin (straykids)

© bloomzone!!

#5:FIND PURPOSE

✉️:Finding a meaningful life purpose is a profound journey that many people embark on at different stages of their lives. It involves discovering what brings fulfillment, direction, and satisfaction. Identifying a purpose can help guide decisions, inspire actions, and provide a sense of meaning in both personal and professional aspects of life.

1.Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to Finding Your Life’s Purpose

﹙ 💌 ﹚ we will explore the concept of Ikigai, a Japanese term that means “a reason for being.” Ikigai is important to know because it offers a pathway to finding purpose and joy in life. It involves harmonizing four key elements: what you love, what you are good at, what the world needs, and what you can be rewarded for...

2.EVERYTHING ABOUT IKIGAI

Basically, ikigai is seen as the convergence of the following four core elements:

1. What you love (your passion)

2. What the world needs (your mission)

3. What you are good at (your vocation)

4. What you can get paid for (your profession)

The word ikigai, that space in the middle of these four primary elements, is seen by the Japanese as the source of value or what make one's life truly worthwhile.

THE 10 RULES OF IKIGAI

1. Stay Active, Don’t Retire:

- The idea behind this rule is to keep your mind and body engaged in meaningful activities. Retirement doesn't mean stopping all productive work. It encourages finding activities you enjoy and continuing to contribute to society, which can provide a sense of purpose and satisfaction.

-Benefits: Staying active helps maintain cognitive function, physical health, and emotional well-being. It can prevent feelings of uselessness and isolation.

2. Take It Slow:

- Embrace a slower, more deliberate pace of life. Instead of rushing through tasks, take time to savor and appreciate the process.

- Benefits:This can reduce stress and anxiety, improve the quality of your work and help u enjoy life more fully. It encourages mindfulness and living in the present moment.

3. Don’t Fill Your Stomach:

- The 80% rule, also known as "hara hachi bu" advises stopping eating when you're 80% full, rather than completely sated.

- Benefits: This practice promotes better digestion, prevents overeating, and can lead to a healthier weight. It’s associated with longevity and reduced risk of chronic diseases.

4. Surround Yourself with Good Friends:

- Build and maintain strong, positive relationships. Spend time with people who uplift and support you.

- Benefits: Good friends provide emotional support, reduce stress, and enhance your sense of belonging. Strong social connections are linked to better mental health and increased life expectancy.

5. Get in Shape for Your Next Birthday:

- Regular physical activity is essential for maintaining health and energy. Aim to improve or maintain your fitness level each year.

- Benefits: Exercise boosts physical health, mental clarity, and mood. It helps prevent chronic diseases, improves sleep, and enhances overall quality of life.

6. Smile:

- Adopting a positive attitude and smiling can improve your mood and the mood of those around you.

- Benefits: Smiling releases endorphins, reduces stress, and promotes a positive outlook. It can improve social interactions and relationships.

7. Reconnect with Nature:

- Spend time outdoors and appreciate the natural world. This can involve walking in parks, hiking, gardening, or simply enjoying a sunny day.

- Benefits: Nature exposure reduces stress, boosts mood, and improves mental health. It can also enhance physical health and encourage a sense of wonder and connection to the world.

8. Give Thanks:

- Practice gratitude regularly by acknowledging and appreciating the positive aspects of your life.

- Benefits: Gratitude enhances happiness, reduces negative emotions, and improves mental health. It can also strengthen relationships and foster a more positive outlook on life.

9. Live in the Moment:

- Focus on the present rather than dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. Engage fully in whatever you are doing at the moment.

- Benefits:This practice, also known as mindfulness, reduces stress and enhances enjoyment and satisfaction. It can improve mental clarity and emotional regulation.

10. Follow Your Ikigai:

-Discover and pursue your Ikigai—the intersection of what you love, what you are good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for. Let this guide your life choices and actions.

- Benefits:Finding and following your Ikigai leads to a fulfilling and meaningful life. It helps align your passions with your skills and societal contributions, resulting in a sense of purpose and happiness.

3.Discover Your Ikigai: Guided Journal Prompts for a Meaningful Life

Ikigai journal prompts can help you explore and clarify your purpose and passions. Here are some prompts to guide your reflection:

Exploring Your Passions

1. What activities make you lose track of time?

2. What did you love to do as a child that you may have forgotten about?

3. What topics or activities are you naturally drawn to?

4. When do you feel most alive and engaged?

5. If you could do anything without worrying about money or other obligations, what would it be?

Identifying Your Strengths

6. What skills or talents do you excel at?

7. What do people frequently ask for your help with?

8. What accomplishments are you most proud of?

9. What feedback have you received that highlights your strengths?

10. When have you felt most competent and capable?

Understanding What the World Needs

11. What issues or causes do you care deeply about?

12. How do you want to make a difference in the world?

13. What problems do you see in your community that you wish you could solve?

14. What do you believe the world needs more of?

15. What impact do you want to have on others' lives?

Finding What You Can Be Paid For

16. What professional roles or careers have you considered?

17. How can you monetize your skills or passions?

18. What services or products can you offer that others would pay for?

19. What industries or fields are you interested in exploring for potential income?

20. What value do you bring to your current job or any job you’ve held?

Integrating Ikigai

21. How can you combine your passions, strengths, and what the world needs into a potential career or hobby?

22. What small steps can you take to start aligning your daily activities with your Ikigai?

23. What changes can you make in your life to focus more on your Ikigai?

24. Who can support you on your journey to finding and living your Ikigai?

25. What would a typical day look like if you were fully living your Ikigai?

Reflecting on Progress

26. What have you learned about yourself through this journaling process?

27. How has your understanding of Ikigai evolved over time?

28. What obstacles have you encountered in pursuing your Ikigai, and how can you overcome them?

29. What successes have you experienced in aligning your life with your Ikigai?

30. How can you maintain balance and avoid burnout while pursuing your Ikigai?

ıllı ⠀ : ⠀Let ur passion be your guiding star, leading you to a life filled with joy, purpose, and unshakable fulfillment.stay healthy I love u <143 ❛ ⠀ ♡ ⠀ !!

© bloomzone

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Wonderwall

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 4,550 Summary: Your ex boyfriend Simon is marrying Sabrina, the woman he left you for. You were sure you'd have have a date in time for his wedding... too bad you were wrong. Once again. your best friend Maria has to save the day by letting you use her handsome, single brother-in-law that owes her a favor as your date. Warnings: fluff, idk what's going on with me but there's so much fluff, soft joel, fake wedding date, rom com vibes, crying over a broken vibrator, no outbreak, maria and tommy are married, sarah and kevin live, british ex boyfriend, reader and joel are close in age (reader is 36, joel is 40), alcohol, i know the gif is marcus pike but i can't stop seeing young joel in this gif, anyways here's wonderwall, no use of y/n, not beta read

A/N: This was written for @justagalwhowrites' Joel Miller Birthday Celebration. Thank you to the always wonderful @ohheypedrito for suggesting the fake dating trope when I asked her what to write.

Masterlist

Fizzy mimosas, fluffy pancakes, crispy hash browns, and sweet maple syrup. Brunch on Sundays with Maria has been a long standing tradition for the two of you. Fifteen years of friendship kept stronger by always promising to make time for each other no matter what is going on in your lives.

These days, Maria’s raising a toddler while building a very successful career in the Austin district attorney's office whereas last night you cried over your vibrator dying while trying to pull an orgasm out of you for an endorphin rush. God knows you need one.

You’ve been in a hole since the arrival of Simon’s wedding invitation. The man you spent your most youthful and fulfilling years with is now marrying Sabrina, the beautiful co-worker he crashed your relationship for. Yeah, yeah, your twenty year partnership was already headed for the cliff, but her perky tits and pouty lips sure did speed up the demise. 

“So, Simon’s wedding is next weekend, how do you feel?” Maria interrogates from across the table.

“Fine!” you stuff a pancake triangle into your mouth. “It’s fine! I’m fine!”

“Mm,” she lifts a skeptical eyebrow. Why do you lie to her? She makes three figures locking away liars, she can spot them a mile away. “Let me guess, you still don’t have a date?”

“Ugh, no, why did I mark two on the RSVP?” 

“I told you not to,” Maria shakes her head 

“Yeah, but, I-I want to show him I’m doing great without him.”

“Babe,” Maria grabs your hand and squeezes it, “I say this with all the love in my heart… you’re not doing great.”

“I knoooow!” you sigh, closing your eyes. “I just thought… I’d show up in my pretty dress with a hot man on my arm and show Simon I’m happy and fulfilled without his love.”

“But you don’t ha–”

“Please, I know. I just– I’m happy for him in some really odd way but I also want to be… happy for myself.”

“Okay,” she nods before taking a deep breath, “here’s what I’m going to do for you. You know Joel?”

“Your… brother-in-law?”

“Yes, he owes me a favor, soooo, he’s going to be your date,” she sits back folding her arms across her chest with a smug smirk. “He’s handsome as hell and a good man but he’s very quiet and intimidating to those who don’t know him. He’s perfect for this situation.” 

You do know Joel… just not very well at all. There have been random run-ins at Miller family parties, but nothing more than a quick “hello” and “how are you?” exchanged between the two of you. He seems the opposite of your Dartmouth educated, polo playing yuppie of an ex. “Yoo hoo,” Maria waves her hand in front of your face catching your attention. “Does that work for you?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I think… it does,” a relieved smile lifts your face.  

Maria has, once again, fixed your problem. 

—-

RING… RING… RING… 

Your fingers nervously tap against the countertop. “Come on, pick uuup, pick uuuup, pick uuu–”

“Miller,” a deep voice answers.

“H-Hi, uh, Joel?” You feel a third your age, like you’re right back in middle school calling the cute boy in your science class because your friend dared you. 

“Speaking.”

“Hey, uh, you’re my wedding date? Maria… she gave me your number so we can plan?”

“Oh, yes,” his voice softens. “Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, uh… I think it might be good to go over a story for us before the big day.”

“Right,” he chuckles, “I’m all ears.”

—-

Your eyes roam down your notes from the call. “So, we formally met at Kevin’s graduation party. I call you ‘honey’, our first date was to a movie and then to pizza. We’ve been together for a little over a year. You hate sushi and love tamales. You don’t like water slides. You play the guitar. You have a daughter named Sarah who’s a senior in high school. You own a construction company with Tommy… I think that’s about right?”

"Believe so," the bass of his quiet voice causes goosebumps to pebble your skin. If he's doing this to you over the phone, what will the wedding be like?

"Okay," you settle against your sofa, "and for me?" 

Papers shuffle before Joel clears his throat. “Hm, okay. I asked Tommy for your number after Kevin’s graduation party. You work at an insurance company, but you dream of owning your own bookstore one day. You love mashed potatoes. I call you 'baby.' Your favorite color is bronze. You’re a night owl forced to be an early bird. You love Taylor Swift unapologetically. You like staying over at my home because your favorite coffee place delivers to my house.”

“Perfect. I know this is totally weird and all, but, thanks for doing this. Sometimes I allow my pride to sabotage me... and Maria has to come in and save me.”

“She’s good at that.”

“Thanks again Joel.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice feels you with warmth. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” 

“Yes, Saturday. Until then, have a good week.”

“You too.”

After saying goodbye, you hang up with a plume of butterflies in your stomach. 

—

“Okay! Get ready!” you shout from behind your bathroom door. 

Your Sunday brunch date with Maria has been moved up to a Saturday afternoon primping and preening spree in your home as she helps you get ready to watch the once love of your life marry someone else. 

You step out of the bathroom to find Maria sitting cross-legged on your bed. As soon as she sees you, she leans forward with wide eyes.

"Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with awe. "I mean, seriously, wow."

"Really?" you ask, giving a twirl in your mauve dress, adorned with a delicate print of sequined flowers blooming across the bodice.

“Really,” her eyebrow angles as she nods, “I can’t wait for Miller to have to deal with keeping his cool around you.”

“What?”

Maria just smiles, “Let’s just say, you look hot, that’s all I’m going to say.” 

___

A shiny black truck pulls into your driveway. Panic jolts through you as you watch the door swing open from your front window. Out steps Joel Miller, impeccably dressed in a black suit. Oh good lord–he’s your date. Like, date date, as in the guy you’re going to be spending the rest of the night with. The anxiety over Simon and Sabrina’s wedding fades into the background, replaced by the overwhelming challenge of maintaining your composure in the presence of someone who looks that stunning in a tuxedo.

The doorbell rings. 

Okay, okay, you got this.

A gust of pleasant autumn air hits your skin when you open the door. Oh good LORD, he looks incredible. His hair is longer than you remember, falling in gentle waves you dream of running your fingers through. His beard is neatly trimmed, though slightly patchy with a strong mustache that frames his plush lips. He has a shy smile, his dimple makes a divot you want to press your finger into. His simple black suit stretches around his obviously toned and broad shoulders. 

“Hi, it’s uh, nice to see you again. Come on in,” you say, opening the door wider and stepping aside. 

“Course,” he replies, striding in past you. His hand twitches nervously when he turns and takes how you look fully in. “You look– y’look beautiful.” 

A flush of warmth spreads through you at the compliment from the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, now standing in the middle of your living room. 

“Oh, thanks, uh, it’s not every day your ex boyfriend of twenty years gets married to the woman he left you for… so I guess I needed to show off.”

“It’s–yeah–good,” he stammers, his eyes darting around the room, clearly avoiding your gaze.

“Well, uh, I just need to slip on my shoes and grab my bag, then we can get going. Make yourself at home.” 

“Sure thing.” 

As you head down the hall to get your things, you hear him let out a long sigh. 

Don’t worry dude, I get it. It’s going to be a long night. 

“So, um, I know, this is awkward,” you say, returning to the living room and dropping your shoes on the floor, “but I’m really grateful to you.”

He chuckles, sitting on the edge of your couch. “S’alright. I can’t say no to a free meal and open bar.” 

“If I still know Simon’s taste, it’ll be a top-notch open bar too,” you muse, slipping into your high heel and bending over to fasten the buckle. 

You glance up when you hear Joel’s breath catch. He’s staring intently at you–more specifically, at your exposed leg and thigh, courtesy of the high slit in your dress. 

You really had to pick the dress that Maria dubbed “the revenge dress,” didn’t you? He clears his throat and quickly averts his gaze, but the charged atmosphere lingers. You try to ignore it, buckle your other shoe and grab your clutch.

“Ready?” you ask. 

“I am," he replies, standing up and adjusting his neck tie, a hint of color warms his cheeks. . 

—-

Joel’s truck looks quite out of place pulling into the Hurts Family’s grand estate. Of course Simon’s getting married at Father & Mother’s sprawling manor. You can’t help but wonder if the altar and ceremony will be located in the same conservatory you and Simon lost your virginity to each other in. 

The whole drive over, you and Joel practiced your spiels, all the while you tried to ignore the waves of attraction that vibrated between you and him in the small cab of his truck.

He pulls up to the valet and reluctantly hands his keys over to the college aged kid before hurrying over to your door, cutting in front of the doorman to help you down. What a gentleman.

Soft violin music floats through the air and white flower petals line the walkway leading into the massive estate that once felt like your second home. A nagging thought lingers in the back of your mind that you’re about to live what should’ve been your wedding day. 

You breathe out deeply, Joel grabs your hand as he guides you into the house. 

People mingle, some you don’t know, many you do. Aunt Billie, Uncle Martin, the cousins from Manchester, Simon’s favorite professor. Familiar faces surround you, what the hell were you thinking this would be okay?

You’ve known this home since you were twelve, Simon showed up in your seventh grade algebra class, a new student with bright blue eyes and blonde hair, you thought he was the prettiest boy you had ever seen, even before he spoke… the British accent would’ve been enough to sweep you off your feet. It took a couple years of friendship before you both admitted your crushes on each other, the confessions happened in the movie room, just down the hallway you stand near.

Love is fleeting, love is hopeless. You’ve learned to care for yourself like Simon once cared for you, but now in this home you used to sneak into, you feel just as alone as you did the day you moved out of the house you shared with him for a decade just two streets down from here. 

“Hey, you okay?” Joel leans in and whispers. “Squeezin’ my hand mighty hard.”

“Oh,” you blink, refocusing on him, “I am, it’s just… really bizarre and everything. Seeing so many familiar people I haven't seen in years feels strange.”

“You’re doing good, I got you,” he says, letting go of your hand, and wrapping his arm around your waist, guiding you farther into the mansion. 

___

The impressive altar stands in the conservatory–you know your ex well– this windowed dwelling means everything to him. Everywhere you look, peach and champagne flowers are nestled among lush green foliage. You and Joel settle eight rows back on the groom's side, just a few feet from the bench you lost your virginity on. Jamie, Simon’s friend from college, sends you a kind smile when you sit next to him. 

Your foot taps nervously against the stone tile, keeping rhythm with the soft string music lilting through the air. You take a deep breath to center yourself as the processional begins. The family minister you’ve known since you were fifteen leads the way then–Simon. Still just as handsome, in that specific pretty way that drew you to him as a teenager. The slight waves of his dark blonde hair are more controlled and slicked back. His slender body is topped by wide shoulders from all his years of playing polo. His equally handsome brother Liam follows, along with a handful of friends you used to consider your own. 

Joel’s arm wraps around you as Simon takes his place at the altar, his fingers resting firmly on your bare shoulder just in time for the bridal procession to begin. Everybody takes their rightful places waiting for the bride. Simon stands at the altar, laser focused on the doorway, oddly, you feel a sense of happiness for him. Maybe you feel less lonely with the comfort of Joel’s strong arm around you, maybe you’re just caught up in the emotions of the day. 

As you expected, Lia and Ewan, Simon’s niece and nephew, are the ring bearer and flower girl. You were at the hospital when both of them were born. You taught both of them how to swim. They used to call you their aunt. 

The small orchestra begins playing “The Wedding March,” the audience stands in anticipation of Sabrina’s entrance. The curtains part and she appears shimmering down the aisle in her ivory dress. Okay, you have to admit, she looks gorgeous. Joel pulls you closer, his hand rests against your hip as Sabrina and her father pass your row. You’re grateful for his presence, even if it’s just a comforting distraction that just happens to be pretend.

The look on Simon’s face is unmistakable when he takes Sabrina’s hand–it’s the same look he would give you whenever he told you loved you all those thousands upon thousands of times. 

You take your seat, Joel’s hand finds your shoulder once more. It’s going to be damn hard to concentrate on the ceremony.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today.

—

You survive the ceremony… thanks to Joel and his calloused hand rubbing circles on your shoulder. As Simon and Sabrina lead the recessional out of the conservatory, Simon spots you and sends you a knowing wink and smile when he spots Joel next to you. Maybe it’s a good thing you attended, it’s the final picket placed in the closure fence. 

“You good?” Joel whispers in your ear while watching the rest of the party leave. You turn to respond, failing to realize his face is now right next to yours. His lips now sit a breath away from yours. Panic slips in, overwhelmed by the thought of anyone catching an awkward moment like this, especially since you’re the ex girlfriend the groom left for his brand new bride. 

Fuck it. You lean forward and place your lips against his, leaving a delicate peck against them. At least now you’ll have this moment that’s just for you. 

—

The warm autumn sun is beginning to set casting the preened and pristine gardens of the Hurts Estate in amber tones. Thank god for the cocktail hour and open bar. 

You sip your champagne and smile at a few familiar faces while gazing out upon the vast lawns you used to spend lazy days sunbathing and playing croquet on. What a bizarre homecoming of sorts. Joel is taking his role seriously, constantly checking on you and never leaving your side.

A familiar voice calls your name, pulling you from your reverie.

“Oh sweetheart! It’s so lovely to see you!” Simon’s mother, Adeline, greets you with kisses on both cheeks before pulling you into a warm hug. You’ve always liked the woman and she always adored you. She turns to your date, her eyes lighting up when she looks Joel up and down. 

“Addy, this is my boyfriend Joel.” A rush of excitement is sent through you at the simple introduction. “Joel, this is Simon’s mom, Adeline.”

“Good evening ma’am,” Joel says, extending his hand to shake hers gently. “It’s quite beautiful here.”

“Oh, thank you! Aside from our two boys, this is our pride and joy. There’s nothing better than seeing your child get married in the place you call home.” . 

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of nice things about this place, you have a lot of good memories here, right baby?” Joel looks at you with an affectionate smile. Oh he’s good.

“I do,” you smile warmly at Addy. 

“Oh sweetheart! That makes me so happy! You’re always welcome here, I’m so happy Simon invited you!”

“I am too, it’s so nice to see you,” you say, realizing how much you truly miss her. You spent twenty years of your life around so many of these people before being cut off cold turkey from them.  

“Shoot! I better keep moving and making my rounds! Do enjoy the bar, and make sure tell them Addy sent you; they’ll give you the real good stuff. Joel, are you a whiskey man?”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replies with a nod.

“We’ve got some Old Rip Van Winkle, aged 25 years. Just tell them Adeline insists and they’ll pour you a glass.” 

“Thank you ma’am,” Joel says gratefully.

“Oh, I like him darling!” Addy winks before turning to leave, her gold dress gleaming just as bright as her personality. 

—

The large tent erected for the ceremony glows in pink and orange hues. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling overflowing with roses and garlands. It’s gorgeous and opulent everywhere you look. 

You’ve been nervous about your table assignment since you sent in your RSVP. Who will you be stuck with? You prayed it would be strangers versus people you used to call friends. You thank your lucky stars when you’re led to table eleven, where you’re greeted warmly by strangers. You tell your new tablemates you’re an old friend of Simon’s, Joel grabs your hand and gently holds it while you introduce yourselves,  shocked you still haven’t had to utilize the stories you and him invented. 

Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Simon Hurts! 

The two lovebirds make their grand entrance, glowing and grinning in their newlywed aura before the symphonic melody of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” begins to play. Hilarious, the last time you heard this song it was on a playlist Sabrina had made for Simon… a couple weeks before your ultimate separation. You got into a fight over the amount of times he’d play it, he told you were overreacting and being dramatic, you should’ve trusted your instincts right then and there.

They look so happy and gorgeous together, dancing their first dance surrounded by all of their loved ones inside this picturesque setting. It should’ve been you…

Joel leans in closer, wrapping his arm around you, stealing your attention from your spiraling thoughts. “I can’t play this song on violin or cello, but I can play it on guitar, maybe I can play it for you sometime.” 

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his, “I–I’d like that.” 

“Thought you would,” he smirks, before leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

He’s been touching you all night, always considerate and tender, as if he holds an actual amount of reverence in his heart for you. God, he’s either the sweetest man to ever live, or he should give up the construction job, move to Hollywood and start acting. 

—

Simon and Sabrina make their rounds after dinner, they’re a table away laughing and galavanting with friends you used to call your own. It’s been over a year since you last spoke to him and now as the ultimate final thing you’ve been dreading is near, you’re nervous as hell. Joel casually drapes his arm around the back of your chair before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the top of your head, helping subside some of your anxieties. 

“You good?” he checks in with a soft whisper. 

You nod, scooting closer into the shell he’s created for you with his large body. 

Simon catches your eye with a warm, gentle smile as he leads Sabrina over to your table. You can’t be too mad at him, he’s been nothing but a gentleman since he forced the end of your already faltering relationship. Sabrina, well–she was just a better match for him. You wish them well, no matter how much it still seemingly hurts. You just want Simon to miss you a little bit.

The newlyweds greet the rest of the table, collecting well-wishes and flattery from the guests before turning their attention to you and Joel. 

Simon bends forward and gives you a tight hug before thanking you and saying how lovely it is to see you. Sabrina says hello, you tell her she looks beautiful, she returns the favor. 

Simon extends his hand to Joel and introduces himself. “I’m Simon, I’m sure you’ve heard a bit about me–hopefully some good,” he says, his ever present British charm helps cut through the tension radiating off of Joel’s gruff reservedness. 

“She has,” Joel replies, shaking Simon’s hand. “I’m Joel. Nice to meet you both. Congrats. S’been a lovely wedding.”

The four of you make casual conversation. Joel mentions he’s a contractor, Simon’s eyes light up before he mentions how he wants to build a pool house. Your heart twinges a bit when you remember it’s all for pretend and there’s no way Joel could take the job. Joel makes a joke about how dinner was better than a No. 5 from Whataburger, eliciting a ruckus laugh from the newlyweds. You feel good, until the sinking feeling inside rears its ugly head and reminds you this is all a sham. 

Sabrina nods to Simon in an unspoken understanding that they need to move on with their greetings. Joel wishes them well and thanks them for the lovely party. You smile and do the same. 

“It’s good to see you happy,” Simon says as he gives you a parting hug. 

If only he knew…

You’re quiet as you watch Simon and Sabrina walk away, Simon’s hand is placed on Sabrina’s back lightly stroking up and down. Joel softly says your name, breaking your concentration on the happy married couple. 

“I like this song, let’s dance,” he says, rising and extending his hand to you. 

“Wonderwall?” you ask, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. “Let me guess, you can play it on guitar.” 

“I do,” he confirms with a smile, pulling you close against his body. His large hand splays against your lower back, and yours finds its place on his firm shoulder. The wedding band has slowed the song down, couples gently sway around you. The twinkling lights above reflect in Joel’s dark brown eyes. You can’t stop looking at him, he can’t stop looking at you. The moment is intimate, to any other wedding guest, you look like a couple just as in love as the newlyweds. 

You rest your head against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne–woodsy, smoky, with a hint of cinnamon. His thumb strokes against the skin of your hand as your bodies synchronistically move together. This doesn't feel like pretending at all.

The song ends, Joel makes no move to pull away, and you don’t either. The first notes of the next song begin and you recognize the drumbeat anywhere. You can’t believe you’re hearing it here, of all places.

“We can leave the Christmas lights up till January…”

“Ohh,” you let out a soft sigh against Joel’s chest, feeling your heart drop. “This was going to be our first dance song, I-I told him it as soon as I first heard it all those years ago.”

Joel tilts his head down, his concerned brown eyes peer into yours. “M’sorry, did you want to stop?”

“No, no, it’s–I can’t leave the floor during this. What if he sees me?”

Joel nods reassuringly before tightening his hold on you and pulling your joined hands in closer. His head rests on top of yours engulfing you with his broad body, like your own personal fake wedding date security blanket. 

Your heartbreak slowly dissipates, mended by the gentle touch and attention of Joel. The song ends, he asks if you want to get a breath of fresh air, you gratefully nod before taking his hand and telling him you know a place.

—

The breeze rolling off the lake sends a chill across your skin, Joel takes notice, quickly removing his jacket and places it over your shoulders without hesitation.

“Thanks,” you say, sinking into the leftover warmth of Joel.

“No problem,” he says, shuffling his neck tie open and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. “I’m burnin’ up under it.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the tranquil waves lap at the shore. “Sorry about earlier. It was just… a shock to hear that song. He moved on so quickly and I feel like I’ve just been left wondering how I can so easily be… replaced.” 

“No need to apologize,” he sighs, “I’m not good at any of this stuff, but, you don’t seem like someone that’s so… easy to get over.” 

Your heart skips a beat when you look over at him. The soft ambient glow of the full moon reflecting off the water bathes him in an almost ethereal glow, making him look like a knight in shining armor who walked through a portal to help save you from your own wounded heart you’ve been trying to heal for the past two years. 

“Guess you just don’t know me very well then,” you joke, trying to slow down the thoughts racing within your heart and mind. 

“No, but I think I’d like to,” he says, turning to you with a sincere look in his eyes. 

“I-I’d like that too.” 

Joel hesitates for a moment before asking, “There’s a new Curtis & Viper movie releasing next week. Did you want to go with me?”

“Like a real date?” you ask, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Suppose it would be. We could recreate our ‘first’ date that we told that one aunt of Simon’s all about. We’ll get pizza at the place across the street.”

“I’d love that,” you say, your excitement clear in your voice. 

From across the yard, you can just make out the sound of the band playing for the wedding guests. 

Joel takes a deep breath and turns to you with a warm, playful smile. “I feel better asking you here so you know I’m being for real. I really want to dance with you. May I have this dance?” 

“I’d love nothing more,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face as he pulls you closer.

You remind yourself to send Maria a bouquet of flowers for setting up your fake wedding date as you settle into his embrace.

[milequaritchsslut]

Never again

Summary: What was she to do without you?

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Abby Anderson x Dead!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, crying, depression, grieving, dirty living spaces, sorrow, angst, malnutrition, blood, sexual themes,

It had been a year already, since the day she lost you. The days seemed to mush together on their own, each day passing like an hour. She didn’t get out much once you were gone, curling up inside of her bed most of the time. She didn’t really need to go out much, there was no reason to. You weren’t there anymore, so what was the reason to get up if you weren’t gonna be there waiting for her? She hadn’t realized how much she needed you until she found herself holding your dying body in her arms that night. The blood gushing out of your stomach, she could remember the sound of your heavy breathing. Your voice was shaky, gasping for what air your lungs could grasp. It was so hard to watch you struggle like that, tears falling down her face as she held you closer the more you bled out. Her lips found your forehead and kissed you repeatedly as you tried your best to piece together an understandable sentence for her. She remembers your eyes looking up at her, begging for something she couldn’t give you. Her sobs being muffled by your neck as she held you tightly against her. Your blood soaking her shirt as your frail arms were wrapped around her neck. You were so small in that moment, so weak and vulnerable. The light of her life died that day, there was no light at the end of the tunnel anymore.

Her eyes were tired all the time, being hardly able to keep them open during the day. Her sobs could be heard down the hall and through the corridors, her voice breaking with ever cry for you. She didn’t really know how else to deal with you being gone, nothing else worked. She tried her best to get up and go to the gym to get rid of the stress, but she was too tired. Her legs could hardly keep her up most of the time, she had gotten used to just laying down all day her body couldn’t hold her up. Her knees buckling when she had to walk to the bathroom or eat. Her body had grown weak, she didn’t work out anymore. Her muscle was mostly gone by now, all that was left was bones. She wasn’t even recognizable, she definitely wasn’t herself. She felt like a shell of the person she was before you died, the girl you knew was gone.

She didn’t eat much either, she couldn’t keep anything down. She didn’t think she deserved to, she had let you die anyways. Maybe if she had gotten you out of that building faster you’d be able to console her. Maybe your arms would still be around her neck as she held you down. Her hands searching your body, feeling ever crevice and curve you had. Your soft skin might still be touching her, playing with her hair as she caressed you. But she didn’t, she didn’t save you. She just sat there while you gasped for air, watching you struggle to breathe.

Her bedsheets were dirty, dirty with the residue of her tears. She couldn’t stop crying, the endorphins pouring out of her body as your voice echoed in her head. Your sweet symphonic voice whispering into her ears as she sobs alone in her room.

The walls of her room felt suffocating, the pictures of you still hung up. It was like a knife to the heart when she looked at them, your bright smile beaming down at her. She missed your smile, you were always laughing. No matter what was happening, you seemed to always cheer her up. Whether it was on a mission or just back at base, she was always smiling with you. Your laugh was contagious after all, your sweet voice bouncing off the walls wherever you seemed to be.

She hasn’t washed her hair in months, a strong smell emitting from her body. It wasn’t the same without you, she missed getting ready to see you. Brushing her hair in the mirror, detangling her long brown hair with her comb. She remembered how her heart would race while the thoughts of what you’d two do together swirled in her head. She’d put on that bracelet you made for her, with the little pink charms dangling off of it. The sound of it hitting itself when she moved around. She loved that bracelet you made, it was a clear representation of your soul.

She loves sleeping, it’s the only time she can see you. It’s the same dream every night, she walks with you on the hillside. That long pink sundress you owned would flow behind you, her hand in yours as you two walked through The valley. She remembers your silky hair blowing in the wind, your gorgeous brown eyes gleaming up at her as she smiled back down at you. Your soft skin brushing against hers as her hand would pull you closer by the waist. Your giggle filling her ears as she kissed you on the forehead. You were so perfect, her little princess.

But she’d always wake up, wake up alone in her bed. Coming back to the harsh reality that you were gone, and she’d never get you back. She’s not able to touch you anymore, can’t make you scream for her anymore. Can’t make your body shake from her touch anymore, she’ll never get to feel your nails digging into her back again as she was inside you. Your body isn’t here anymore, it isn’t moving or working the way it’s supposed to. All she has left of you is the material world, your belongings filling her room. The reminder hurts her, all that was left of you was these stupid things you owned. They weren’t enough for her, she needed to just touch you one more time. She yearns for you, the night engulfs her as she sleeps alone. Her arms and legs wrapping around her pillow as she sobs into it, imagining it might be you. But it wasn’t, nothing could compare to your warm body being held in her arms. Nothing could hold a candle to that feeling she got when she snuggled into your hair, her arms holding you tighter as you both fell asleep intertwined with one another. You were gone and she had to deal with it.

[permanentswaps]

Felix Levesque, Future Olympian (Pt. 3)

There was a side to the Olympics I never realized—a side the spectators don’t see. They tune in for the competition, the inspiring victories, the heartbreaks of near-misses. But what they miss is what happens once the cameras turn off. Because, for the athletes, the Olympics isn’t just about the medals or the glory. It’s also a massive, all-out party—a celebration of everything we’ve sacrificed for years. And when you’ve trained every waking moment of your life, endured pain and doubt for that one shot at greatness, what better way to release all that pent-up tension than... well, with sex?

I mean, the Olympic Village was brimming with the hottest, fittest people on earth, all of them pumped up on endorphins. What else could you expect. Apparently, 300,000 condoms had been handed out to the athletes this year alone.

Of course, Sam knew this. He was a veteran in the gymnastics world, a seasoned Olympian who had probably seen—and done—it all. That’s why he wasn’t fazed by our loss. The competition might’ve been over, but the real games were just beginning for him.

I felt that familiar, unsettling stir inside my mind. Sam was taking in the sights, scanning the crowd as we walked through the village. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the growing dread. I couldn’t let him just... use my body like that.

“Hey, Sam,” I called out internally, trying to sound casual, nonchalant. “So, since the competition’s over... do you think I could have my body back now?”

I could almost feel his smirk. “What are you talking about? The games aren’t over until the closing ceremony,” he replied smoothly, ignoring the obvious plea in my words.

My heart sank. “That’s four more days,” I pressed, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

He chuckled, and it echoed in my mind like a taunt. “You wanted to experience the Olympics, didn’t you? This is part of it. I’m just making sure you get the full picture.”

---

Night 1:

The dining hall was buzzing with the usual post-competition energy—some athletes celebrating others drowning their sorrows, but all gorging on chocolate muffins just the same.

I would have loved to be in there, soaking in the atmosphere, maybe meeting some of my idols. But, of course, Sam was steering my body now. He walked us through the aisles confidently, scanning the room with a glint in his eye, like a predator searching for prey.

Then he spotted him—a stunning Norwegian runner standing with a few teammates, his sharp features and athletic build impossible to miss. It took me a split second to recognize him: Karsten Warholm. I had thirst-followed this guy on Instagram months ago. He was exactly my type, the kind of guy I’d never had the guts to approach. I felt a twist of excitement and dread at the sight of him, knowing what Sam might do.

“Mind if I join you?” Sam asked, my voice smooth and confident in a way I’d never managed. Karsten turned his head, eyes locking onto us.

“Not at all,” Karsten replied with a grin, his accent making my heart flutter. He gave me a quick once-over before speaking again. “You’re Felix, right?”

He knew who I was? God, I would have blushed if I were in control of my own face. Sam, though, didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back, crossing my arms casually.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Sam replied smoothly, a confident smirk stretching across my lips. “And you are…?”

“Karsten,” he replied, clearly amused.

“Ah, right, the sprinter,” Sam said, barely concealing a flirtatious grin. Then, casually, he stretched out my arms and gave a quick, subtle flex of my biceps, making sure Karsten had a front-row view.

Karsten’s eyes flicked down to my arms, his gaze lingering. A faint glimmer of something—interest, maybe even desire—crossed his face as he swallowed, his eyes flicking back up to mine. It worked; he was thirsty, exactly as Sam intended.

He tilted his head slightly, smile widening. “I’ve seen you around the Village,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “But I didn’t realize you were a huge flirt.”

I wished so badly that I could take over, that I could say something to make this moment my own. This was a chance, my chance, to connect with him.

“Sam, please,” I begged silently, willing him to give me control. “Let me handle this. Just this once. He’s exactly my type; maybe this could be more than a hookup.” But Sam wasn’t listening.

“So, now that the competition is over,” Sam said, a playful edge to his tone, “how do you unwind?”

Karsten's smile widened. “Well, I usually relax with some good company,” he replied, his eyes not leaving ours. “You wanna come back to my room?”

“Lead the way,” Sam said confidently, rising from the table with my body and following Karsten out of the dining hall. Karsten's room was small but cozy, with the scent of cologne lingering in the air.

Before I could process anything further, Sam closed the gap between them, pressing my lips to Karsten’s in a deep, fervent kiss.

Things escalated quickly. Karsten's hands roamed confidently over my—Sam’s—chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath his touch. Sam didn’t hesitate. He took control, pushing Karsten onto the bed with a force that made the runner gasp. “So much for being fast,” Sam murmured against Karsten’s ear, his voice dripping with lust. “Let’s see how long you last.”

Karsten let out a moan, his head tilting back as Sam maneuvered our body on top of him. I was trapped, forced to feel every sensation as Sam moved with precision, each motion driving deeper into Karsten. Sam gripped Karsten's hips with a bruising intensity, pulling him closer with every thrust.

Karsten gasped, his voice thick with arousal. “God … Felix … you’re so huge,” he groaned, his words spilling out between ragged breaths.

A shiver ran through my spine as I registered his words. This was the kind of praise I’d only ever dreamed of hearing, and yet it felt hollow, knowing it was Sam who had earned it, not me. Sam only grinned, moving with an even greater intensity, driving Karsten to the edge as the room filled with the sounds of their bodies moving in sync.

Karsten arched his back, a desperate cry spilling from his lips as he clutched at the sheets. "I’m... I’m close," he gasped out, his face flushed and eyes half-lidded with pleasure. I could feel the way his body tightened, every muscle drawing taut as he strained for that release. With a few more relentless thrusts, Sam pushed him over the edge. Sam wasn’t far behind. I could feel him pushing us toward that peak, every inch of my body tensing as he drove into Karsten one last time, burying us deep.

When it was finally over, Karsten collapsed next to us, sweat glistening on his toned chest. I stared up at the ceiling, my mind spinning. Sam, meanwhile, seemed perfectly content, stretching out with a satisfied smirk as Karsten leaned over, reaching for something on the nightstand.

He pulled out his phone, catching his breath before turning to us with a slightly flushed face. “Here,” he murmured, typing quickly before handing it to Sam. “My number. In case... you want to do this again.”

Sam took the phone with a smirk, tapping in a response that I couldn’t see before placing it back on the nightstand. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” he replied smoothly.

[4theitgirls]

how to be confident

how to be confident

─────────♡──────────

get to know yourself

it’s easy to be insecure when you don’t understand who you are, why you do what you do, or why you feel the way you feel. take time to understand those things. explore your likes and dislikes, your passions, your feelings, and your thought patterns. research shadow work and journal prompts and try to see into the deeper parts of yourself and your personality. getting to know yourself will give you a more stable image of yourself and help build up your self esteem and improve the way you see yourself and those around you.

consume content that makes you feel good

unfollow everyone that makes you feel insecure or insignificant. get rid of people you constantly compare yourself to. focus on pages, blogs, and channels that help you and make you happy. i have two posts about productive and healthy youtube channels you can follow, but for building confidence, i recommend leo skepi, simonesimmo, tam kaur, and thewizardliz.

take care of your body

skincare, hair care, exercise, and eating a balanced diet are not just about the aesthetics or how they make you look. taking care of yourself helps you appreciate your body and makes you feel good about yourself mentally. exercise also releases endorphins, a happy hormone, and gives you a sense of accomplishment knowing you’ve done something good for your body. that being said, do not force yourself to do workouts you hate. there are so many different types of exercise out there. experiment with different ones until you find one that you enjoy and works best for you.

practice positive self-talk

it sounds cheesy, but it’s so important. we talk to ourselves so much more than we realize, and since we rarely say these things out loud, our thoughts are usually uncensored negative things. “that was so stupid, i’m so stupid” or “i can’t do this” or “why can’t i look like her?”

would you talk to someone else like that? would you talk to a child like that? would you want someone to say that about themselves? if the answer is no, you shouldn’t say it to yourself either. we all have things we don’t like or things we would change about ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we should beat ourselves up over them. be mindful of the way you talk to yourself. turn “i don’t understand this, i’m so stupid” into “i may not understand this now, but i know that if i keep trying, i will get it.” turn “i’m so ugly, why don’t i look like her?” into “she may be beautiful, but so am i. her beauty does not take away mine.”

understand that not everyone will like or understand you, and that’s okay

no matter what you do or who you are, there will always be people who don’t understand what you’re doing or don’t like you for one reason or another, and that is perfectly fine. unfortunately, it’s just how life and people work. but that doesn’t mean we should change ourselves to try to please everyone. you can never please everyone. you are the only person that has to live your life and deal with the decisions you make. do what makes you happy and what is best for you and leave everyone else alone. it may take time, but it is always worth it.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 8: Breeding with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader Word Count: 794 Warnings: Breeding kink, P in V sex, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, unless the goal is to get gregnent that is), Dirty talk, Lil bit of Cock Warming, Probably badly written British slang (is that a warning?). Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Your whole body ached. It ached in the way that it does when you’ve gone for a really good hike, the kind that leaves muscles twitching from use, and your veins buzzing from the endorphins.

The main difference being it wasn’t a hike that left you like this.

No, it was the man currently behind you, pounding you face first into the mattress, gearing up to fill you with his third load of cum that day alone.

See, you and Simon had made the decision that you were ready to start trying for a baby. And then promptly decided that the best way to go about that, was to fuck as many times a day, in as many positions as possible, and in as many locations in your home as you can find.

It was currently 10 in the morning and you both had just finished breakfast, which was the followed by a good morning fuck on the counter, then some coffee on the couch had led to you riding him with the weather forecast playing in the background, and then when you both went to get dressed for the day, well, why not take yet another opportunity?

It’s been like this for two weeks now, and you both were far from bored of it. Spending whole days drunk on each other’s bodies, and still craving more, it was amazing.

It helped that Simon, being the wonderful man he is, always made sure you came.

Every. Single. Time.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here and now. Face down, ass up, with the thick cock of your British operator filling you over and over, tip kissing your cervix on every thrust, hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure it would leave a mark, not that you minded, you loved when he marked you up.

“Bloody hell…Still so wet from before…” He rasped as he gave particularly hard thrust, shoving you harder into the sheets and yanking a cry from your kiss swollen lips. “Such pretty noises…So loud for me…Think the neighbors can hear how good I’m fucking you? Hear how many times I’ve filled you up?”

His filthy words sent the most delicious buzzing through your body, he was only ever this talkative when he was fucking you, it’s like he’s always saving all his words for when he’s balls deep so he can say the dirtiest things he can think of.

“If-fuck…” You started but cut off with a gasp. “If they don’t know now…Ngh…They will soon…Shit, Simon…” You managed, knuckles white with how tightly you were gripping the sheets, hips shoving back against him to meet his with every movement.

The room was filled with wet noises, skin meeting skin, and ragged breathing, well, your ragged breathing that is. Simon has stamina for days; you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so much as pant.

“Hmm.” He purred as he leaned over you, pressing his chest to yours, and pressing his cock even deeper. “Love the way you say my name, but I’d rather hear you scream it.” He growled into your ear before his pace picked up, slamming home over and over.

And scream you did. His name, curses, incoherent babbling more than both of those.

You hadn’t even realized that your orgasm had been building till it came crashing over you. Every muscle buzzed and locked at the same time, your vision went white, and you could swear you passed out for a second, but through the whole thing Simon never stopped, not till you felt his cum flood into you, so hot it felt almost scalding with how sensitive your poor abused pussy was.

Rather than pull out right away, Simon turned you both on your sides and pulled you as close as possible. “You still with me, Love?” He rasped into your hair as gentle hands drifted up and down your side.

“Hmm?” You hummed as reality reached your brain once more. “Mmhmm.” You managed, wiggling back into him, and then promptly letting out a shocked gasp when you discovered he was still inside you. “Si, what the fuck…?” You grumbled quietly.

“What? Gotta keep it in, so it takes.” He answered, sounding smug as his hand came to rest on your belly. “I think this was the one.” Now he just sounded soft, and you adored hearing your big tough scary man, sound so sweet.

You let out another happy hum. “I think so too…” You said before a slow smirk spread over your face. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be 100% totally sure though, right?” You said before taking his wrist and guiding his hand down between your thighs.

Time to add another new position to the list.

[auspicioustidings]

Hey hope your doing well! Could I request Price with a really shy civilian reader?

Ohhh so I am going to cheat a little here and actually expand a little small AU I did before for this, I hope you don't mind soulmate AUs! (If you do you shall need to get your butt back into the ole inbox and I shall do something else) <3

You did not want to die. You especially did not want to die because of a bloody maniac seeing fit to blow up the building that you worked in. 

You could barely breathe with all the smoke and debris in the air, but at least the floor hadn't collapsed yet. Couldn't be long though, you could hear the building letting out great sighs as if struggling to stay upright. If it came down, you were toast. You took a breath and rubbed a hand to the raised words on your collarbone to steady yourself. Old habit. Your words had been there since you were born, the handwriting so bad that everyone assumed you must have a doctor for a soulmate. 

You broken love?

The only saving grace of this was that the office had actually been closed due to the aircon being busted. Of course, you had to have left your bloody laptop charger and had to have chosen to go get it when there was a terrorist attack, of course. Not much for it but to start crawling in what you were sure was the direction of the door to the stairwell.

It was a struggle, you were pretty sure in the initial blast your whole left side had been thoroughly fucked up so you had to pull yourself along on your right side, but you made it to the stairwell.

You took a breather and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to steel yourself for continuing on down the stairs. Wait, there were people coming up the way. That was very much the wrong way to be going. 

One of them bit out a curse and leaned over you. All you could think about in your state was how kind his eyes looked.

"Wasn't told there was anyone else left in the building Captain" one of the men said to the one leaning over you.

"You broken love?"

Oh. Oh.

"I'd probably be ok calling you Captain in bed."

The other men were howling with laughter, but you were mostly out of it now with pain and the rush of endorphins that came from those words on your collarbone finally settling fully into your skin.

"We can discuss that later sweetheart, let's get you out of here."

-

God you were a pretty thing weren't you? Had passed out the moment he had lifted you in his arms, like you had known that moment you were safe. You'd always be safe with him, after all he had fought his way to become a Captain to find you, the words wrapped around his left forearm always pushing him forward.

His boys were happy for him he knew, Ghost already taking over the rest of the op to allow him to be here for you when you woke up. They had already killed or captured most of the terrorist ring, the building sweep was just clean up.

The paramedics said you weren't in any immediate danger, pretty bashed up though. Suspected break on your left arm, suspected fracture on the leg, some light burning on your face and neck. Price went with you in the ambulance to the hospital, holding your hand as you dipped in and out of consciousness and babbled away nonsense at him. Even when you had gotten the x-rays you were loopy as hell, the doctors said it was stress, exhaustion and pain, prescribing a heavy dose of painkillers and a good night's sleep.

When you eventually woke up properly, you were warm and cosy in a bed. You felt awful. You looked down to find your arm in a cast and your leg in a splint. You were also... Well, clean. And wearing clothes that were definitely not yours.

"Morning love."

You squeaked and dragged the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose, peeking over to see an incredibly handsome man standing by the door of what was not your bedroom. Wait did you know him? It felt like you did. What on earth had happened?

He laughed and it was the most gorgeous sound you had ever heard which made the tips of your ears burn and your heart race.

"You broken love?"

Wait those were your... only when you shifted to touch your words they were already settled into your skin. He had said them to you before. That's why you knew him. He said them when he had found you in your building, when you thought you had been dying. And you had said...

You would quite have liked for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but you settled for pulling the blankets all the way over your head and hiding in the hopes he would never look at you again. You could not believe your first words to your soulmate had been about calling him Captain in bed. You were mortified. You would never in a million years have said something like that if you hadn't been delirious from the shock.

You heard his footsteps and the crinkling of his clothes as he crouched next to the bed, the feeling of a warm hand landing on your head over the blanket.

"Don't tell me you're embarassed now love, I've not even told you about what you were saying when I was trying to give you a bath" he laughed.

Jail, jail for this man. You would fix this by simply never emerging from this cocoon again. This was your home now. Even if he was petting at your head and you knew it would feel so much better without the duvet between your hair and his hand. Oh God the thought made you snake your good hand out of the safety of the blankets to snatch a pillow back inside and scream into it.

John Price thought you were adorable. He knew you were shy, you had babbled to him about it last night while he was gently trying to keep your cast out of the water in the bath. It had been you that stripped off and him trying desperately to slow you down, knowing you were off your head on pain meds. But you wanted a bath and he couldn't let you do that on your own in the state you had been in.

You'd told him all about yourself in broken jumbles of words. Your name (he had immediately tested in on his tongue and found it fit there), your favourite colour (he'd paint the walls on Monday), how it was so nice to be able to talk to him because usually you would be way too shy and he was so handsome and kissable (he was more than willing to prove you absolutely correct about him being kissable when you were sober minded).

You hadn't been kidding about being shy. He liked that more than he thought he would, that his soulmate was this sweet, soft thing who was so flustered over so small a flirtation. Oh he couldn't wait to see all the ways he could made colour deepen your skin, find all the words that would have you squeaking and trying to hide away.

"Sorry for teasing, couldn't help myself. Will you come out please? Let me see that pretty soulmate of mine?" he said with the gentle affection of a man finally content in life.

He coaxed you out like one might do a nervous kitten, no sudden movements, light sounds of encouragement. And when you finally looked at him your hand moved to your collarbone out of habit to trace your words, although you winced in pain when you bumped the cast.

"Try not to move it too much love, we can do some exercises to keep your mobility up after breakfast."

You nodded, still looking up at him with those big nervous eyes. He smiled at you and pushed up his sleeve, laying his forearm on the bed and letting you see the words there.

"They're yours, you know. I'm yours" he said, like the concept came as easy to him as breathing.

And as you gingerly reached out with your good hand to trace the words, you couldn't help but whisper the word mine before taking his hand and pressing it to your collarbone.

"Yours."

[luxeavenger]

Deep Breath

Kinktober prompt: Breathplay

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Warnings: Breathplay, dvp

Words: 994

Thanks for reblogging.

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

part 1

“Take a deep breath, princess,” Steve tells you.

You take in a big lungful of air without needing to know why. Then Bucky’s arm comes from behind you. He presses his warm palm over your mouth, and pinches your nose closed with this thumb and forefinger. He eases your head back against his shoulder, cutting off your air, with no hope of dodging away from his restraining hand.

Your lizard brain kicks in before the rest of your brain can catch up, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears, fast and erratic. But then Bucky’s soothing voice is in your ear, “I’ve got you, princess. Stevie’s got you too.”

Of course they’ve got you. They’ve always got you. There’s no place from which you could fall where they wouldn’t be waiting there to catch you.

You nod. Your racing pulse slows, and you let your eyes flutter closed. Giving yourself over to them means you don’t have to think about anything. You don’t have to worry about anything. All you have to do is feel them. Enjoy the press of their bodies against yours. How thoroughly they surround you. How completely they fill you.

“Eyes on me, princess,” Steve’s voice is gentle, but insistent.

Your eyelids flutter open, and his smile is soft and beautiful. “Good girl,” he murmurs quietly.

Just as the need for a breath becomes urgent, Bucky’s hand is gone.

“Breathe for me, gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear.

As instructed, you breathe, and the action sends endorphins cascading through your body. Your fingers tingle with the release of happy chemicals, and you exhale a long, wavering, exultant moan.

Both of your men make encouraging noises while they push their cocks into you harder.

“Deep breath, princess,” Steve’s low baritone instructs.

Bucky’s hand covers your mouth and nose again, and this time… it’s pure, unadulterated bliss.

Not being able to breathe makes you acutely aware of everything else that’s happening with your body. Steve’s thumbs stroking over the stiff, sensitive peaks of your nipples. The heat and tension of your impending orgasm building in your center. The strong, steady thrum of Bucky’s heartbeat against your back. The contraction and release of their abs and thighs as they work in tandem to fuck you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come for us,” Steve urges.

He feels it before you do, and gives a happy moan when your orgasm hits hard and messy. Come rushes out of you, soaking them both as you squirt for them.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky groans.

“Keep it going for us,” Steve demands.

Bucky releases your face, and the sudden influx of oxygen fans the fading flame of your orgasm, coaxing another orgasm out of you, a wave of pleasure so pure and intense the world goes dim for a few moments.

“Good girl,” they murmur at you while you recover. “So fucking good for us.”

Steve is beaming at you, and Bucky is wearing a beautific smile when he turns your head so he can kiss you.

You sigh contentedly.

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers are proof that if god is real, she has favorites.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks.

“Of course.”

“Do you want to keep going?” Steve asks.

Each breath you take belongs to them anyway, so you give him an eager, “Yes.”

“Then take a deep breath, princess,” Steve orders.

You inhale, filling your lungs with the smell of sex and lust, and the crisp, clean scents of your big, beautiful men. Your lungs hold the memory of those mingling fragrances while Bucky suffocates you, and they both fuck you.

Your hands wrap around Bucky’s forearm for support. Steve studies your face, looking for any sign of pain, exhaustion, or panic. You nod at him to let him know you’re fine. If you wanted Bucky to stop all you needed to do was tap his arm and he’d let up.

But you don’t want him to stop.

Another orgasm is building in your center. It already feels like a raging storm, and you aren’t even at your edge yet. Tears sting at the back of your eyes, and gather at your waterline. One spills over onto your cheek, and Steve sucks in a breath.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now, princess,” Steve delivers his praise in a voice steeped with awe. Ordinarily he’d ask if he could take a picture of you, but he’s too busy keeping an eye on you right now. You make a mental note to ask for a repeat performance, and make sure he has his phone close at hand next time.

Bucky’s hand lifts again, and you use that first precious lungful of oxygen to beg them to fuck you harder.

Your desperation spurs them on. Steve’s thumb finds your clit, every pass of his thumb lights your nerves on fire, sending little zings of electricity jolting through your core. Bucky snaps his hips into you harder, sending thunder reverberating up your body with each powerful thrust.

Your mouth opens behind Bucky’s palm, and your hands squeeze his arm hard enough that your fingernails pierce his skin.

“We’ve got you, baby girl,” Bucky whispers huskily in your ear. “We’re right here. Waiting for you. Just let go and come for us.”

Your orgasm ignites and sizzles through you like black powder. Every muscle in your body sings with the force of it.

Then Bucky lets you breathe again.

And here, right at this precise moment, you’re pretty sure your soul leaves your body. Because all you’re aware of is the weight of Bucky’s arm around your middle holding you up, Steve’s brilliantly blue eyes watching you, the incoherent noises tearing their way out of your throat, and Bucky and Steve groaning as their cocks jerk and throb as they spill their come inside of you.

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, and you find yourself staring up into Steve’s sky blue eyes.

He smiles at you radiantly, “Welcome back, princess.”

part 3

[idesofrevolution]

My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

[honeyjars-sims]

3.18 Forward Momentum

Chantal had invited Johnny to go to the gym with her, which both of them were starting to regret. She’d dragged him to every machine in the building and he had a complaint about all of them.

The treadmill gave him motion sickness. The stationary bike “makes me feel like I’m cycling towards nothing.” Now he was sitting on the workout machine scrolling on his phone.

“If you’re not going to work out, then get off the machine,” Chantal complained.

“Great idea!” Johnny stood up and started walking off.

“Wait!” Chantal shouted. “I thought you were trying to be more active?”

“I am, but the gym is boring. I can’t just stay in one spot. I need movement!”

“You don’t seem to mind being still when you’re looking at your phone.”

“That’s different. Anyway, there are other ways to be active other than the gym, you know.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know, and I appreciate it," Johnny said apologetically. "It’s just not for me.”

“That’s fair. Thanks for giving it a try. How are things at home?”

Johnny sighed. Things were better, he supposed. His dads seemed pleased with how well he was performing at his job. He’d been too tired to go out to the club, and the idea didn’t seem particularly appealing these days anyway.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. No one was arguing anymore, but were they actually happy?

“It’s ok,” he told her. “I got Taco a laser pointer and she’s obsessed. She tries so hard to catch it. It's so cute."

“You and that cat!” Chantal grinned. “I’m glad you have her. I hope you’re making actual human friends, though.”

“I am,” Johnny assured her. “Everyone at work is really nice.”

“I’m sure they are, but you should hang out with people outside of work hours, too. Even if it’s your coworkers. It’ll be good for you, I think.”

“Probably. I’ll think about it,” he promised. “There are a lot of cute girls there."

Chantal groaned. "Trust me, you don't want to get involved with someone you work with! Are you even ready to date right now?"

Johnny shrugged. "I didn't say anything about dating, I was just making an observation. But if I make some new friends and it ends up leading to something more, I'm cool with that. Anyway, what's up with you? Are you still hanging out with Kayla?”

“Yeah. Not as much since school started back, though.”

“Is school going okay?”

“I guess so. Do you regret dropping out? I mean, you found a pretty good job without it.”

Johnny felt a bit of a pang at the question. Maybe he didn't need university to be successful, but the memory of the people he’d met there and how he quit so abruptly still pained him. “Sometimes. But I wasn’t really in a good frame of mind when I did it.”

“I guess that’s right. I just keep wondering if I really need a degree to achieve my dreams.”

“Sounds like you and Cece are in the same boat. Imagine our dads reactions if all three of their kids drop out of school!”

“Maybe we’ll all get rich and we can pay them back.”

“I think the endorphins are getting to your head.”

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

Author's note: The next post will be written in first person from Johnny's perspective! Something I'm trying out.

[baby-jaguar]

Meeting Johnny

Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope

WC: 2,726 CW: None

AN: I'm alive! Sorry this is so short, this was a good stopping point and I need to work on my world-building for Soap before getting to the next part. Just know- I haven't given up on this AU (It's literally my firstborn, blood, and soul, but I will be a bit slow until my brain juices stay flowing. I hope ye enjoy <3

Please see the Introduction for the explanation and precursors to the scene.

Introduction, Biography

--------

Johnny’s proposal to you was quick in terms of a few letters exchanged; three letters in, he invited you to come out and sent you enough money to figure out accommodations to get to him. As soon as you read those words at the post office, you ran home high on endorphins and adrenaline began packing your bags without grandiose care in the world. The fire inside you licked at the bottom of your heart, anger at staying in this shithole for far too long and feeling a sense of belonging- the sense of feeling wanted to make you have an ulterior purpose in life as if a phoenix reborn and spreading its wings while nose-diving into the unknown. When your parents came home as you zipped your bags, you sincerely couldn’t give a flying fuck as you shoved past them and began berating your parents with a grand show of a public yelling match for the neighbors to hear. 

Good for you! 

You had already planned how to get to him after receiving his first letter back; First step, buying a train ticket that led you to Santa Fe, New Mexico. From there, you had to embark on the Gila Trail, before having to buy your horse and head out on the San Diego Crossings wagon road by yourself. 

This trip was a long haul, and you prayed that Johnny would trust in your quickly established faith to wait out for you. The promise of a strong and loving man is all you could think about...

While in your adrenaline-filled escape, you hadn’t plucked the book in your room that hid his photo as a bookmark, but thankfully had grabbed the letter that gave you his directions. While you scavenge your mind to have a solid image of him, you think over his features and re-read the letters countless times.

Johnny has a background of all sorts, having grown up in a family that held their bond strong, especially after his father had passed in a mining cave-in, which rendered him the man of the house from a young age. Even in his brief telling of these events, you could tell he’s moved out to California to find a deeper meaning of himself, create the line in concrete for it to harden as he ages. 

That isn’t to say that he has lost his sense of boyishness, not at all in fact. His stories that he wrote even contained small doodles along the borders to better depict what he was writing about, and it was half your mind to cut them out and keep them as little bookmarks or place them in your wallet as a keepsake. He was playful, writing jokes about the smallest things, even letting you in on some secrets about the people in his town before you got there.

While the sense of his flame burned hot in multiple directions, deep in his hearth was a passionate man. Just as he seemed so sweet, with a flick of his wrist the writing would turn into something hot enough to make you blush, averting your eyes as your mind ran wild with his thoughts. He seems to enjoy a bubble bath… but maybe only when you’re in it with him. Even writing about the future and him stating he wants a family by any means, you could only imagine a deep possessiveness inside of him to claim you as such. Even if you were able to have his biological children or not, he’d still make sure you felt like you did.

But back to your journey. 

The course of the trains provided you an oversight of the new lands you had yet to ever see, as it was the beginning stages of territories turning into states. The rides were long, and adjusting to the set time zones was a large throw-off to your circadian rhythm. Having already traveled two states west, it was difficult to decide on which line would grant you the fastest access to Johnny. Luckily enough, a kind person in the Denver station helped point out that taking the route from northern Nevadah into California would grant you the fastest time, and ease your solo traveling. 

The kind person stated that they were in a similar situation and now waiting for the train, having a bit of time to offer some advice while making it toward their end goal. Thanking them with bountiful wishes and good luck’s in their journey, you were on your way.

It took four more days to find yourself in Temecula, California. An astonishing change from the desert lands that reflected the sun so brightly now showed the capabilities of a plush environment of greenery and clouds. The train station was reached as the sunlight began pouring in over the mountains; being quick on your feet, and from the other settlers being far too tired, you found a deal on the last remaining horse available. 

Traveling by horseback prompted challenges with reading Johnny's directions, and you did not want to admit that you were lost. The lack of directory and signage left you getting flustered already by noon and being left alone in such a rural area in between towns felt far more daunting than any part of this trip. Passing by stagecoaches who all seemed to know their way around, you filed in line through a secondary road filled with houses in the valley of the small mountains.

Three hours later and a small urge to cry while having given up on re-reading the letter, you accepted defeat when you saw someone sitting on their porch down a dirt road with his house being the only one there.

“Hi! Excuse me, sir?” The sound of your voice breaks through the stillness of the settling valley, enough to make the man look up from the table he is currently hunched over.

“Would you mind helping me out by giving me directions?” Willing yourself to not blush or shrink into your large coat, embarrassment running through your chest while in the new environment.

For a moment, the man doesn't seem to acknowledge you, having to do a double take before his eyes widen in surprise. The toothpick that was delicately hanging on his lip falls to the ground, less he even notices before he sits up straight readjusting his hat, and clears his throat.

“‘Course, my dear. How can I be of service.” His accent is rich, leading you to believe that he’s been raised in the West, and has a perfectly smooth twang to his speech as it leaves his side smile.

“I’m looking for the country store… There’s supposed to be an old Coke sign on it.” The words leave you in a higher pitch than you’d normally speak, having a handsome stranger stare at you with a wide-eyed stare as he watches your lips move. “And to be honest- I wouldn’t know if I’m in the right place to begin with.” 

As if snapped back to reality again, eye contact cut short as he blinks before looking down the road and then back to you. “Ah, store’ way down yonder with a crossing sign. If yer’ headed west then a left will take you to the interstate,” A nod confirms his sense of confidence in his directions, explaining it plain and simple as the roads that his house lies on.

The smile that crosses your face lights your eyes, and it's the most relief you’ve gotten ever since getting on horseback. “Thank you, I really do appreciate it.” Your hands pull on the reigns of the horse, already turning around to try and beat sunset before it's too dark to ride alone.

Before you’re out of earshot, “When you’re in, you gotta stop and ask Ms. Bell for somma’ her sweet tea. But remember, take a right, and you’ll end up right back here to me.” The wink that leaves him makes you question if you’re seeing things in the late light of the day, but you’re sure he can see the blush that burns your cheeks.

A laugh leaves you before nodding in response, now clicking your horse into a quick trot while you’re high on the adrenaline from the interaction. Well… at least you have a backup plan in case your bachelor doesn't work out.

Arriving far too quickly than you’d expect, the store was only a few minutes down the road and concealed by a line of trees. Hitching your horse and walking into the store on stiff legs, you plan on following the stranger's advice to get some sweet tea.

The bell above the door jingles as you walk in, catching the attention of the older woman behind the counter. Here eyes take in your form, surprised such a fresh-faced person has arrived this late into the day. “How can I help you, sweetheart?” Her voice rings out a bit rough, someone who knows how to pull her weight if trouble would arrive.

“I’m actually looking to get to someone's home near town, but I was told to make my way from this store to not get lost.” A pause as your eyes take in the scenery of the rustic store; A layer of dust settled onto the wooden floors as shelves are stocked with an assortment of canned goods, spices, and a few refrigerators labeled as eggs and milk. “Met a stranger on the way and was told I should get some sweet tea here, too.”

Her eyes, still studying you as you speak and noting your accent, or lack thereof, bring a small quirk to her face. “Well, lemme get you some of my tea while you get yourself found.” Leaving her seat she makes her way to a wall in the back, pulling out two large mason jars with a light brown liquid. 

“That stranger you met- was he small ways up north fr’mere?” The smile on her face grows as she walks back to her seat at the register as you walk forward to meet her.

“Yes… A lone house down a single road. Blue eyes, brown hair, and some stubble.” The answer is pulled from you automatically, reciting the mental image of him.

“Toothpick in his mouth?”

The question is almost absurd in how spot-on she is, but then again this is a very small town. “Yes.”

The answer makes her laugh, somewhat un-ladylike when compared to the women from your home, and the noise makes you startle in place for a second.

“That damn Johnny makes me work my ass off to keep this tea in stock. He’s been so stressed waiting for his person to come ‘nd has been drinking me straight out of this stuff.” She levels when calming down for a moment, now placing the jars in bags.

She has yet to look back up at you and fails to notice your limbs seemingly frozen in place as the air leaves your lungs. That was Johnny?

“I’m so sorry ma’am. Did you say that was Johnny? As in MacTavish?”

The rustle of the brown paper bags stops, her eyes darting up to find yours. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She murmurs lowly before a sly smile takes over her face. “You’re here, and you’re damned too good from what you made yourself out to be, sweetheart.” 

Still frozen with your mind reeling, adrenaline begins to pump back into your bloodstream while a jolt alights your muscles. “Oh- I’m so sorry ma’am, I must get going its getting late and-”

The sliding of the jars on her counter interrupts your rambling, “Ah ah, its Ms. Bell dear, and you best be taking this with you to him. Don’t worry bout nothin’ but I’m happy to welcome you to the town.” 

If you looked now, you could notice the tremor in your hands. Nodding and taking the bag, a rush of endless ‘thank you’s’ and an elated smile seats itself permanently before loading the bags on the saddle and turning back around to start galloping forward back towards where you once were.

—

The sound of horses and wagons isn’t a constant to Santa Ysabel during the night hours, usually only occurring after the dayshift ends. As Johnny sits on his porch, his mind muddled with confusion as he stews over his soon-to-be partner arrives, thoughts of the stranger asking for directions makes him confused.

Fresh toothpick in his mouth as he widdles away at a bar of tallow, working to pull off glycerine for work. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence, right? The picture you sent was muddled down with water stains, and he blamed it on the damn train that sent your envelopes out this way. It was beginning sunset, and though he couldn't make out most of your features because of the coat you concealed yourself in- 

The bar of soap drops to the ground and he curses, now jumping out of his mind and into the present. 

The sound of hooves beating and approaching make him look up.

There, Here, you’re back again and the whites of your teeth are illuminated by the fading sun to show your smile.

Slowing down your horse to a stop, breathing in a slight pant as compared to your horses, the smile never leaves you.

“Figure you need some more directions, sweetheart?” His drawl leaves him, standing to make his way towards you. 

“Take off your hat.” The response is curt, and demanding in a way, but that glimmer of excitement makes it sound so sweet.

Johnny himself is befuddled for a moment, eyebrow cocked but complies anyway. Now raising the hat off of his head and holding it to his chest, his eyes answer for him. This what you wanted?

A small sound of excitement leaves you, nodding before your leg swings over your saddle, dismounting with a small jump and walking forward.

“Johnny, it's me.”

A swear leaves his mouth, accompanied by a rush of air before he drops his hat to the side and plucks hit toothpick out with it. The smile that coats his face makes him appear so young and boyish at heart as he moves forward with arms open to wrap around your hips with a low growl, “C’mere you,”

You could be embarrassed by the small squeal that leaves you, but you couldn’t give a rat's ass on anything right now. He spins you around for a quick moment, arms around your body as he lifts you easily with his strength.

Staring down into his eyes, you grab a shoulder while the other hand cups his jaw. “Didn’t know it was you until Ms. Bell said something.”

He laughs, head tilting back in bewilderment at the situation and excitement. “Talkin bout her sweet tea?” He asks while setting you down on your feet, hands never straying as he pulls you against him and traverses over your body.

“Yes, gave me some to bring home.”

The use of home sparks his heart with a bright thrum, butterflies encasing his stomach while he rumbles out a laugh. The texture of his hands is both soft and ruff, his thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones before one hand moves to brush over your hair, cupping the back of your neck.

“Well, in that case, welcome home, sweety.” The rumble sends a shiver down your spine, eyes darting over his face before settling on his lips. A breath settles before you look back into his sharp blue eyes, as he looks at you seemingly waiting for permission.

A small nod of your head and gently pulling him towards you, the band on the back of your head pulls you forward as he brings your lips together. The taste of him has a spice to it, the favor of cinnamon cotes his lips and brings a slow burn over yours while his body’s warmth brings another wave.

The stubble of his beard rubs your face- and it's a welcome feeling as compared to the winds of the valleys whipping past you. Something you’d gladly leave your skin bright red and raw from hours of the feeling.

Before growing too heated, you part with a small gasp and trail him slightly before blinking to find his smirk growing as a low rumble vibrates against you. “Let's get you settled in, then we can celebrate s’more.”

--------

[Who do you all think the reader met at the train station? If you get the song reference for their meeting you get two gold stars! I hope yall enjoy.]

[mrsjellymunson]

🎸Get Lucky🎸

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest day 18 prompt, ‘Freak’ | WC: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Grant/unnamed freak | CW: longing, self-deprecation, ogling, allusions to sex | Tags: Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Grant, The Hideout | Summary: One member of Corroded Coffin gets lucky after a gig, and another doesn’t 😕

They each have their own favourite places in The Hideout.

Gareth’s is at the bar, loving the camaraderie with their fans as much as the booze behind it.

Jeff’s is his spot on stage. He adores the buzz from the crowd, and the validation he feels.

Eddie’s is the dingy bathroom - if he’d marked the wall for each conquest that he’d taken back there, he could’ve redecorated by now.

Grant’s favourite space is the ‘green room’, an overly-optimistic description of the messy back area which stores everything from band equipment to St Patrick’s Day decorations. He chills there after performances, basking in the endorphins and reflecting on gigs well played.

Tonight, Grant looks out over the crowd. And he gets it, he really does. With Eddie’s looks and irrepressible charm, Gareth’s manic but endearing persona, and Jeff’s softness and charisma, he understands that he’s not the greatest catch out of the bunch.

But when he glances out this evening, and spots a pretty girl in a floral dress looking completely out of her depth in the throng of black-clad metal fans, he can’t help but feel a twinge of longing.

Even though he knows he barely has any chance, he flits his eyes to her once more, before dropping them back to his instrument, where they remain for most of the night.

The gig goes well, their individual talents coalescing well, creating an impressive whole. Eddie’s his usual manic self, striding around the small stage and commanding attention. Gareth’s hammering on his drums, always giving it his all like there’s a music exec in the building. Jeff only has eyes for his girl - she’s a few feet from his side of the stage, safely away from the jostling bodies, her growing bump a testament to their love.

And Grant? He’s diligently playing his instrument, bobbing his head and occasionally stamping a foot, soaking up the cheering and fans singing along, but rarely looking out into the crowd.

Eddie is eyeing the girls, as always. Grant watches as the pretty girl squeezes her way to the front, slipping beneath leather-clad elbows and between sweaty bodies. Not a typical Hideout-goer, her dress is hardly comparable to the tight shirts and denim favoured by most of the female clientele. But it showcases her cleavage nicely (not that he’s deliberately looking, he would never) and makes her stand out in her own way. He chances one more look, fancying that there’s something familiar about her, but without the confidence to properly catch her eye he can’t be sure.

She bops and sways and pushes her elbows together, gazing at Eddie through her lashes. It certainly gets his attention, and Grant notices that Eddie spends at least half the gig looking in her direction. Another conquest.

The boys finish their set and Eddie immediately jumps offstage. Taking her gently by an elbow, he murmurs low in her ear,

“Hey, sweet thing. You look a little lost down here. You wanna go somewhere a little quieter?”

She nods sweetly, clearly under his thrall, and Grant swallows back the bile that rises in the back of his throat. He can’t believe she’s fallen for Eddie’s shallow bullshit, but he has to admit he has game - it almost never fails. He’s not generally a jealous guy, but he can’t help the feeling that someone so seemingly sweet deserves better than… this.

Grant heads swiftly down the narrow corridor to the sanctuary of the green room, hoping to avoid hearing any of what Eddie’s about to do. But just as he reaches the doorway, he hears his name being called. He turns, bewildered, to see the girl in the floral dress standing directly in front of him.

“Wh-?”

“Hi Grant, I don’t know if you remember me? We had math and geography classes together in high school.”

Grant doesn’t say anything. He just stares, like she’s grown an extra head.

He watches her face fall. Is she realising this is all a horrendous mistake? He manages to softly say her name, continuing,

“Remember you? O- of course I do! You sat in front of me for two years, how could I not remember you?”

He smiles then, and his eyes twinkle as his full cheeks lift up. She reciprocates, and he thinks it’s the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. He’s confused, however.

“But, how do you remember me?”

“You don’t have classes with someone for two years and not pick up a thing or two. Like how you’re really cute, and have a great sense of humour. How kind and generous you are with your friends, and how you’ve looked after the younger sheep. How you have a pet rabbit, and you love it more than anything, but you never tell people about it because you think it’s not ‘metal’. And how I’ve had a crush on you since you lent me a pencil when mine broke just before a test, and you never asked for it back. And I came here tonight to see if you wanted to, maybe, hook up sometime.”

She huffs out a breath, like she’s relieved to have finally said it aloud.

Eddie’s aghast in the narrow hallway, never having been cockblocked by anyone before, let alone a bandmate. Grant’s eyes flick between them as he stammers,

“But… aren't… you two…?”

“No, silly. You wouldn’t look at me all night, so I had to come up with another way of getting back here. I figured flirting with the horny front man would work, and it did. Didn’t it, big boy?”

She flashes a glance at Eddie, who’s standing there gaping like a fish.

There’s a few seconds of silence while everyone processes. Finally realising she needs a response, Grant, smiling again, finds the courage to mumble,

“You… really think I’m cute?”

She slips her hand into his, and, pulling him past a still-gaping Eddie into Eddie’s favourite room, she murmurs,

“Why don’t you come in here with me, and find out…?”

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for organising this event @corrodedcoffinfest, this was a very enjoyable prompt! 🖤🖤🖤

Extremely cool divider by @strangergraphics

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