#Vacances t-shirt

[ollywears]

Olly Alexander wearing an A.P.C. Vacances t-shirt in an Instagram Story for Madame Tussauds London (October 17, 2023).

[art-vortex]

(via Coussin « "We Love Pattaya" » par Art-Vortex-fr)

[clonecaptains]

No Vacancy

a tyler owens x shy reader fic

warnings: none! she/her pronouns mentioned; no use of y/n; this is all cozy fluff

word count: 3k

summary: you're part of the wrangler crew and have a crush on tyler. and you're debating on acting on these feelings. you might just get your chance when he shows up at your motel room.

a/n: this is my first tyler fic! this is the ol 'there's only one bed' trope - and im already planning a part two! hope yall enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All these motel rooms look the same. Warm earth tones all over the place and strange prints on the bedspread. But after a long day like today, it’s a welcome sight. That bed’s calling your name. You shrug your bag off your shoulder and hit the light switch. The lamp in the corner illuminates the room in a warm glow. It’s cozy.

The door clicks behind you; and you stand in the room for a moment deciding what you want to do next. Your job was done for the day. You are the official tornado wrangler social media accounts manager. Now that the wrangler team has gained a substantial following, it’s your job to post updates about new videos or the latest t-shirt design up for charity purposes. You’ve posted what you needed to post for the day, and now is your chance to rest.

You decide on a shower to think about the events of the day while you clean off.

Today was a first for you. It was your first time being in tornado while sitting in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck. You’ve been on the team now for a while, but it was part of your initiation they’d said. Tyler was sweet. He pulled you aside telling you that you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to. And you really didn’t want to, but you wanted to prove to yourself that you could. More than that, you trusted Tyler would keep you safe.

You loved watching him, and his excitement was contagious despite your fears of this major storm. He’d been blasting his storm playlist, but when it got close to the moment, he made sure you were ok.

When the storm hit and passed you over, you couldn’t help but scream – in fear or excitement you don’t know. You grabbed Tyler’s arm in the heat of the moment, and feeling his warm skin under your fingertips was more of a thrill than the storm was.

You’re not sure how well you’re keeping the secret that you’re completely in love with him. You fell the first day you met him several months ago. And while you did prove to yourself that you could handle a tornado – you don’t know if you can handle the ache you feel when you’re around him. Riding shotgun in his truck today and touching his arm will keep you on cloud nine for the next week.

A creak in the pipes of this old motel tears you from your thoughts. You get out of the shower and dry off to put on your pjs. That’s when your mind drifts back to Tyler. How sweet he was with you all day leading up to your first tornado, and how he let you hold his arm. How he checked on you a dozen times after to make sure you weren’t too shaken.

You were shaken, but not but the storm. No matter how often you’re around him – he has the same effect on you. He makes you feel dizzy. His presence is so hard to ignore. It’s not just his handsome face or broad muscular frame – though that certainly is a factor – it’s his charm and relaxed demeanor. He’s a perfect balance of rowdy and sweet. And you are smitten.

You wince thinking about how it’s probably painfully obvious to the rest of the team. And what’s worse, it’s obvious to him too. If he’s seen it – and hasn’t said anything then you can only assume he doesn’t feel the same way.

All of this goes through your mind during your nightly routine. It’s early in the night, you left the wranglers down in the parking lot – most of them were still having a beer chatting over the day’s storm. You can faintly hear people talking outside while the night is winding down.

You settle into bed turning on the TV when you hear keys turning in the lock on your door. Much to your surprise – the door opens and who but Tyler himself is standing in the doorway. He’s just as confused as you. He steps backwards out of the doorway to check the key in his hand and the number on the door. He smiles with a soft huff – shaking his head at something you didn’t know what until later.

“This is the right room according to this,” he holds up the key and closes the door behind him. Suddenly the room feels a hundred times smaller. You feel yourself start to panic.

“They set this up,” Tyler continues. “I know it was Boone,” he laughs setting his bag down on the table near the door. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he tells you right away to try and ease the fear he can probably see in your eyes.

You don’t have a reply because you’re still shocked he’s standing in your room.

“You did great today by the way,” Tyler was still talking, and you were glad for it.

But you do find your voice, “Thank you.” That actually means a lot to you.

“Wasn’t too bad, was it?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. He’s rifling through his bag.

“No, no,” you feign being nonchalant and he cracks a smile. “Tyler, do you want to check if there’s another room available?” you ask him in the same breath. “I don’t want you to sleep on the floor, that won’t be comfortable at all.”

“Tryin’ to kick me out?” he gives a little wink as he reaches for the phone to call the front desk.

The phone call was quick – not long enough for you to decide which outcome you’d prefer.

Do you want him to stay? if he stayed then you’d have to deal with your crush being in your room all night. Having to play it cool as best you could. Or do you want him to leave? And regret later that you didn’t say anything about how you felt when you had a good chance to in this moment

The choice is made for you in the span of a few seconds.

“No more rooms,” he clicked his tongue. “The floor’ll be fine!”

That’s one of the things you admire most about him. He’s considerate and polite – and he’s happy to be. You know the floor is not comfortable. But he offered like it was the most common thing in the world.

“I am gonna shower first,” he says. “You showered right?” he asks pointing at you, and you nod “yeah! Go for it!”

Now that he knew he was staying, he takes off his boots. Something about them resting on the floor by the doorway makes your heart ache. It’s so close to what it could be like if you were together. A taste of domestic life with Tyler.

He disappears into the bathroom, and you resume flipping through the TV channels. You hope that will distract you from thinking about your crush being very naked and wet on the other side of that door. It’s not like you intentionally linger on it, but when you hear the shower curtain rings slide along the curtain rod and the water kick on - your face warms heavily.

When you hear him quietly hum in the shower, you feel yourself begin to relax. Something about it warms your heart, you think maybe he feels comfortable and doesn’t mind being heard while he hums.

You know the tune, one of the songs he’d been blasting in the truck recently. That makes you think back to being in the tornado again. You can’t believe you did that. Maybe that is your sign to do something else brave. If you could weather that storm surely you could admit your feelings to Tyler.

What if he didn’t feel the same? Then you’d have to awkwardly share a room, and the rest of the time spent working at this job with him knowing you have a crush on him.

How many times have you heard him say “if you feel it, chase it.” If he felt it, would he not have chased it by now? You feel it and you want to chase him, but he makes your knees weak.

What if he does feel the same? How do you maneuver this? There are too many questions, and you don’t know any of the answers. All that you know was you have it bad for him and it hurts. It’s such an ache. Being around him all the time for work, but never having him. You’re embarrassed to admit how much touching his arm earlier was a thrill, it’s all you’d been able to think about.

The more you think about all of this, the harder your heart beats. You’ve barely had time to process anything since he’s been in your room. It gets even worse when the shower stops. You hear when the curtain opens, and when his feet touch the floor.

Then you hear your name.

“There aren’t any towels.”

Oh no. You forgotten you’d used them both. You weren’t expecting to have to share.

“I’ll go get you one! I’m sorry I used them both!” You grab the key and dart out the room, you dn’t even care that someone might see you in your pajamas. You’d rather go grab one for him than wait awkwardly for a towel to be brought up. The less you have to think about him naked in the next room the better for your sanity.

You grab the towels and an extra pillow from the front desk and head back.

“I’m coming in!” You laugh opening the door, and you hear him laugh from the bathroom. “Ok I have them,” you tell him near the bathroom door. He opens it just a smidge and sticks his hand out. You both laugh when you hand him the towels. The awkward moment acknowledged and laughed at instead of worrying about it.

“Thank you,” he replies as he closes the door.

You sit on the bed again, but this time instead of sitting in the middle – you sit more on one side. It’s big enough for you to share so you don’t see why not. It’s not fair for him to sleep on the floor.

As hard as you try to prepare yourself for sharing a bed with him, it lands like a brick in the pit of your stomach when he steps out of the bathroom. The scent of his bodywash hits you first, you always loved how he smells. But just looking at him, he’s a dream.

He’s wearing a soft worn t-shirt and some gym shorts. His hair’s a mess, and it makes you giggle to see it so unruly. He smiles at your quiet laugh.

“Something funny?” he prods running the towel over his head again before hooking it on the back of the door.

“Your hair is always so perfect!”

“You’re getting an exclusive behind the scenes look,” he smiles moving towards the table where he’d put his stuff. He digs through his bag to pull out his phone and charger - plugging it into the nearest outlet.

“Tyler?” your voice comes out timid. He looks up from his phone and sets it down to give you his attention. “You can stay up here,” you point to the empty half of the bed. “I got an extra pillow too.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” his eyes are soft, his brows furrow.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable on the floor!”

He’s quiet for a moment. He looks at his hat sitting on the table amongst his things, and he strokes along the brim of the hat. Usually, you’re able to read him but this leaves you a little miffed. It makes your heart start to beat a little faster from the anticipation.

“Alright,” he decides standing up.

Ok, ok. Don’t panic. This is what you asked for.

He checks the lock on the door making sure it’s locked, and he turns off the floor lamp in the corner.

“On or off?” he asks near the bathroom. When you tell him ‘Off’, he taps that light switch and the loud hum from that light stops. The only light now is from the TV across from the bed.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest when he pulls the covers back. When he sits down and you feel his weight on the mattress - that really gets your heart pounding. He pulls the blankets back over himself and lays down with a heavy sigh. You know he’s tired, he’d been driving like a maniac into storms all day.

Though he’s more than just a rowdy storm chaser, he works long hours helping families and doing charity work. You love him for all these things. And you’re glad it’s dark because you feel like you might cry. He’s so close, and you have no idea what to say or do to tell him what you feel.

“Can I turn this off?” you ask trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies and sinks further into the blankets. Both of you shift to get comfortable now in the dark, and his leg touches yours - causing you to jump. You don’t mean to gasp, but it slips out.

“Sorry!” he laughs and it relieves some tension. Some. You can’t calm down and you don’t know how to. He’s just a few inches away!! You were both lying on your backs, and his shoulder’s almost touching yours. You can still smell his body wash from earlier.

Just say it. Tell him you love him. You survived a tornado today!

You try to hype yourself up, but it isn’t working.

Before you plan out anything to say, you blurt out his name. That’s all you can muster. But this time, it’s worse than before, and your voice quivers audibly. More than that, you’re starting to tremble.

“Hey, hey- it’s ok,” he rolls over on his side to face you. “Me too,” he says and you have no idea what he’s talking about. Until he reachs for you in the dark. “Give me your hand,” he whispers and you roll on your side to face him. You reach towards him, and he gently wraps his hand around your wrist – guiding it to his chest. He puts your hand over his heart, and you feel it pounding under the warmth of his skin and soft shirt. “You see, I have a crush on this girl-“

Your eyes have adjusted in the dark and it’s enough to see the soft, almost shy look he gives you.

“Really?” you whisper. “Me?”

He lets go of your wrist and puts his hand on top of yours and presses down, emphasizing his point.

“Why haven’t you said anything til now? What happened to ‘if you feel it chase it’?”

He clears his throat comically and shifts a little, “Well, I-, ok you got me. Maybe I was a little nervous.” He shrugs. Your hand hasn’t moved from his chest, neither has his hand. He slowly starts to curl his fingers around your hand.

“You? Nervous for me? Do you know what I’ve been thinking about all day today?” you pause. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.” He scoots a little closer to you, ready to listen. “It wasn’t the tornado I’ve been thinking about. It’s been how it felt to touch your arm today.” Your face is on fire. But it gives you a thrill to feel his heart jump and see the smile on his face widen.

He lets go of your hand and hooks his arm so his forearm is close to your face. “Would you like to again?” he teases, and you shove his chest playfully. He laughs, a good deep laugh. He’s relieved and happy. It makes your face hurt from your own smile, and you shyly move your hand from his chest to touch his forearm.

The air shifts. You both feel it when you stroke up and down his arm. You aren’t going to tell him how much you love feeling his arm hair under your fingertips. But he could probably figure it out. Maybe you didn’t mind if he knew.

He reaches for you then, your hand curls around his wrist this time. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he pulls you closer.

“I’m sorry I waited so long for this, I didn’t want to scare you. But truth is I was scared,” he admits.

“I was too, I was scared you didn’t feel the same way,” you whisper back. Your faces are so close to each other, and your bodies almost touching. You can feel the warmth from him.

He lets out a soft grunt like he’s been hit, shocked at what you just said to him.

“Can I?” he asks. You know what he’s asking. His expression is so sweet, so gentle. Another reason you love him. You feel safe in his presence, in his grasp.

“Yes,” you whisper, and then you start to laugh at yourself.

“What?” he smiles laughing.

“I was just gonna say you should ‘chase it’,” you smile. You barely finish the sentence before he closes the gap between you. Warm lips on yours, his nose pressing into your cheek. The stubble on his chin brushes your skin as you whimper into his mouth.

It’s a brief kiss before it breaks. There’s a slight pause where you look at each other smiling, enjoying the moment. Then he dives in for a deeper kiss. His arms pulling you closer, holding you tight to him. Though you wouldn’t dream of pulling away.

At some point you do break apart, both a little breathless. You feel dizzy and lovesick from the way he’s looking at you; something tells you he feels the same.

He starts to laugh again, shaking his head. “We won’t hear the end of this one.”

“Nope,” you smile knowing already what Lily and Dani will have to say.

“I know Boone had a hand in this.”

“Lily and Dani too, they’ve been pushing me to talk to you for weeks,” you giggle burying your face in his neck. He hugs you to him and squeezes. He adds a little reassuring rub on your back. “I’m still scared,” you admit, a secret murmured into his skin.

“I know,” he squeezes again. “Me too. Don’t want to lose you. But you’re worth chasing.”

You hum happily into his neck when a big yawn takes over you.

“Sorry,” you giggle, his laugh joining yours.

“You had a big day. Riding in your first tornado! That and the kissin’ outta wear anybody out,” he winks. Then tilts his head down to kiss your forehead. “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t let go,” you yawn, cuddling into his chest.

He whispers quietly against the top of your head, “never.”

[moremaybank]

SOMNOPHILIA — r.c

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings unprotected sex, somnophilia, humping, creampie, dirty talk/language

kinktober masterlist ;; rafe masterlist

⋆༺♱༻⋆

When Rafe walked into your shared bedroom, the tightness in his shoulders alleviated and the tension in his forehead washed away just from the sight of you. Your frame was wrapped in the cotton of one of his old t-shirts, hair splayed across the pillow. The duvet had clearly been kicked off by you in your sleep, bunched up at the foot of the bed. His eyes trailed up your bare legs, silky smooth and glowing from the moonlight peeking through the sliver of the curtains. Then, he noticed your bare pussy, glistening and partially open to him due to your bent leg. Lying right there, out in plain sight and calling out for his touch. 

Working quickly, he yanked at his tie, the knot coming loose for him to sling it off. He nearly ripped the buttons of his dress shirt off as he popped them open, and his slacks were the next to go as they pooled onto the floor. He palmed himself over his briefs, his gaze locked on your body. Climbing onto the bed, he hovered over you. His fingers pushed the hem of his shirt that rested above your hips higher up, exposing your tits to him. Your nipples stiffened at the sudden rush of cool air, making Rafe’s mouth water. 

“So pretty, baby. All goddamn mine.” His hot breath fanned over your breasts as he flicked one of your nipples with his tongue. His lips eventually closed around it, sucking and pulling at it with the seam of them. He was careful not to leave the other one out, repeating his previous actions and then blowing to keep them pebbled. You shivered in your slumber, and he granted kisses down your body to soothe you. His hands eased your thighs open more, creating space for him to slot his body into. 

Rafe spat down, watching the glob land at the top of your cunt. His fingers spread it downward, throughout your folds, and then back up so he could rub your clit. You were already growing wet, but he wanted more. When he finally sunk into you, he needed to feel how much your pussy wept for him, even when you weren’t conscious and in the moment with him. 

Your hips shifted around on the bed ever so slightly, and Rafe’s eyes flitted up to your face for any signs that you’d awoken, but your body calmed, relaxing against the mattress again. 

Rafe shoved his briefs down, freeing his cock and guiding it through your folds as he lubed himself up. He couldn’t deny the burning need in his chest, and his cock throbbed as it lay against your pussy. He rutted his hips, grinding on you and feeling the slick coat his shaft. “Need your pussy, princess. Need to fuck you so bad, can’t wait.” 

You pulsated from beneath him, silently demanding for his cock to plunge into your walls and diminish the vacancy. He gripped himself, lining up at your entrance and nudging his way inside of you. He groaned, feeling you tighten as he slipped inside completely. “Always ready for me, yeah?”

It wasn’t long before he started to thrust into you, stroking your walls intensely, failing to leave any inch untouched by his cock. His hips pounded at the back of your thighs, and he cursed loudly to himself.

The control was slipping from his fingertips, the way your cunt drank him in and drowned him in your creamy goodness. He fucked you, harder and harder, the speed increasing as his patience abandoned him. “My perfect fuck toy. Shit.”

You began to mewl, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you roused from your sleep ever so slightly. “Mm, Rafe?” 

“Shh, you’re okay. Go back to sleep, baby,” he murmured, one of his hands abandoning the back of your knee so he could stroke your cheek. “Lie still, be good for me.” 

You couldn’t tell if he was really before your mostly closed lids, couldn’t tell if this was one of the best dreams you’d ever had or if it was a moment in reality perfectly plucked from your deepest fantasies. All you knew was that the coil in your belly was close to snapping, and you’d welcome the release with open arms. You slipped back into your slumber as your pussy gushed with your release. 

“That’s my girl. Fuckin’ soakin’ me with her cum even when she’s barely conscious, yeah?” His balls drew up nice and tight, and he emptied himself inside of your cunt. “Gonna use this pussy, keep it filled whenever I want.”

⋆༺♱༻⋆

RAFE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE): @pankowperfection @maybankslover @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @dreamingwithrafe @softherveauxs @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @countryclubkook @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @belcalis9503 @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafesthroatbaby @maybanksbabe @slut4drudy @jjmaybanksgun @drewstarkeysbae @hoeforstarkey24 @eventualoptimism @violetmacher @pookaaaaa5-blog @iluvteyqmm @sluttycadence @subconsciouscollapse @scarlettocean @runningfrom2am @aris-void @luversgirl @conniesanchor @redhead1180 @rcbuttercup

[moonjxsung]

When the Rain Stops

Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.

Read part 2 here.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 9.8k

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, mentions of cheating, brief comment about calories, use of pet names, sex in a public establishment (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting

Synopsis: A passing storm during a road trip forces you to seek shelter in a little dive bar on the outskirts of town, and you find yourself drawn to the bartender.

18+. Mdni!

•

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, wringing out your stringy wet hair onto the black carpet below you. You know the weather forecast predicted rain- hell, your family even warned you about it when you left their place this morning. But true to your bad luck, you severely underestimated just how much of it. Now, you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere while you wait for the storm to pass.

Okay, maybe not technically the middle of nowhere. But a shitty dive bar surrounded by nothing for miles upon miles isn’t really something to write home about. You know it could be worse- at least here you have access to unlimited alcohol and mozzarella sticks. But a quick look around tells you that’s not enough to redeem it for you.

The place is undoubtedly small, pool tables and red leather booths housing most of the space. Where there’s vacancy at the tables, the servers haven’t bothered to clean up yet, passing by stacks of dirty plates and silverware to serve guests sitting at other tables. A group of men chatter amongst themselves at one of the pool tables, and a single man is sat at the open bar.

You settle on a spot at the open bar, sitting two barstools away from the man and drying your feet on the rug below you.

“What can I get you?” A voice overhead says dryly, and you respond without looking up.

“Just a Coke, maybe? Diet, please.”

You hear the man scoff a little as he retreats, and then you finally look up, slightly offended at his reaction.

He’s walking away from the bar when you see him, only the back of his head visible from behind the counter where you’re sat.

As he disappears into the back to grab a coke, you pull your cell phone out of your bag. You wipe raindrops off the screen with the sleeve of your sweater, pushing the lock button to catch up on unread texts. There are only two, both from your parents, warning you about the rain and requesting you turn back for the night.

You shoot them back a text, assuring them you’ve found someplace safe to stay, and that you won’t be driving in this rain until the storm blows over. But the truth is, you’re rather unsure of that yourself. Your phone currently reads at 26% battery, the storm is predicted to go on for several hours, and there are seemingly no hotels nearby to stay the night. Chances are, you’re going to be here for a good while.

A veiny hand places an iced glass of your Diet Coke in front of you as you finish sending the texts, and you look up to lock eyes with the bartender.

He’s rather tall, with light brown hair that falls just above his soft round eyes, totally contradicting the sharpness in his jawline and nose bridge. The man is dressed formally in a white button-up shirt and a black tie, rolled up halfway at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone to reveal just a glimpse of his broadened chest.

“Is that it?” He asks. His stare is cold and serious, and you find yourself a little intimidated in this proximity to him.

“Yes, thank you. Do you happen to have a phone charger?”

He scoffs again.

“This isn’t a convenience store.”

“I’m aware,” you reply with narrowed eyes. “I just need to make a few calls.”

“There’s a pay phone in the back.”

It’s your turn to scoff. He’s calculated with his words, like he’s trying his best to get you to leave the bar. But you’re as stubborn as they come, and it’ll take a lot more than rude customer service to make you leave in this storm.

“Look, I’m not using a pay phone unless you’re supplying quarters. You don’t have an iPhone charger?”

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I don’t have an iPhone charger. And I’m not supplying you with anything- this isn’t a convenience store. Unless you want a vodka sprite or some chicken wings, I think we’re all done here.”

Before you can reply, he turns on his heel, making his way back to the kitchen and disappearing behind the double doors once again.

The doors swing in and out a few times before coming to a halt, and you stare through the circular window as he resumes cooking something in the kitchen.

Unpleasant- the personalities of everyone in your parents’ neighboring town, miles away from your apartment in the city. It reminds you precisely why you seldom visit these parts.

“Don’t take it personal,” a voice from beside you says. He shifts to face you from his bar stool. “He’s always like that.”

The stranger is well-dressed in a coat and slacks, his black hair styled neatly out of his face.

“Surprised he keeps any business at all with an attitude like that.”

“The locals don’t get the worst of it,” he continues. “Mostly us city-dwellers he despises.”

A small smile forms on your face. “You’re from the city too?”

“Yeah!” he replies enthusiastically. “I’m just passing through for the weekend.”

“Me too! Though I got stuck on the way back home. Doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to leave for a few hours.”

“Oh yeah,” the man says. “It’s really bad out there.”

You shift your attention to the large window at the back of the bar- the rain is still coming down in sheets over the glistening black pavement, nothing visible beyond the blurry traffic lights as the trees melt into an abyss of darkness. The roads appear empty and the parking lot seems fuller than usual for a bar like this.

“I’m Jisung, by the way,” he says finally.

You turn back to him and nod once. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you.”

*

As Jisung indulges you in conversation about city life, you learn he’s a businessman who visits the area on Saturdays when he gathers in the town with old friends. He also lives alone in a high-rise apartment, he’s single, and he comes to this particular dive bar for the chicken wings. Ones he insists you have to try, so you waive over the bartender to place another order.

“Excuse me, could we get an order of chicken wings?”

The bartender scribbles something and walks away quickly, hardly acknowledging you the way he did earlier.

“You know,” Jisung says. “Maybe the rain isn’t such a bad thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve been talking to the prettiest girl in this bar for the last 30 minutes. Beats being stuck in traffic any day.”

You feel your whole face turn a bright shade of crimson as he grins flirtatiously. Of course, the other way around stands true, too; his features resemble that of a model’s, and you're pretty sure the other girls in the bar have been eyeing him since you walked in.

Before you can respond, the bartender returns, setting a plate down in front of you and some silverware.

“Enjoy,” he says plainly, and he blinks a few times before leaving again.

“Jeez, it’s like he doesn’t even want to work here,” you tell Jisung.

He says nothing in response- he simply slides the plate over to you, ushering for you to choose a piece.

And you do, carefully balancing the saucy cut between your forefinger and thumb as Jisung taps his against yours.

“Cheers,” he says happily. “To the rain.”

The chicken is the best you’ve had in a while- in fact, you can’t recall having better food at any bar before this.

“Wow, you were right, Jisung. this is phenomenal!”

“It’s Minho’s recipe,” he replies with a mouthful of food.

“Who’s Minho?”

Jisung nods in the direction of the bar, where the bartender is cleaning off a glass with a white towel. He raises his eyebrows once at you, as if to confirm he’s indeed the topic of conversation, and you turn back to Jisung.

“It’s really good,” you say loudly, with the intention of Minho hearing your compliment.

But Minho doesn’t respond, instead sauntering over and refilling your Diet Coke. His eyes visibly avoid yours, guarded, like you might instigate another quarreling match with him at any given second. But he also blinks rapidly as he pours your beverage, almost as if he’s trying not to say something himself. You analyze his mannerisms briefly, before brushing them off and enjoying your food again. He’s probably just still peeved from earlier.

“Do you want to play a round of pool?” Jisung interrupts your thoughts. “Not to scare you, but I’m kind of terrible at it.”

His eyes form little crescents as he laughs loudly, and the gloomy vibe in the bar seems to brighten from the sound alone.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Three rounds in, Jisung is practically sober again, reeling off the high from winning three times against you. He might be terrible, but you’re evidently far worse than he claims to be.

“If I win this match, you let me take you out on a date. How does that sound?” Jisung says through laughter, though he’s entirely serious about the proposal.

Your cue stick prods at his ribs as you smile back in agreement. “And if you lose?”

“I won’t lose,” Jisung retorts. “Might as well pick a restaurant now.”

It’s a failure already, Jisung having only two stripes left while you’re still stuck with all 8 solids. He takes his aim at the cue ball, halting his laughter briefly to position his cue stick, and then cheering loudly as the ball disappears into its nearest hole. You watch with bated breath as he repeats the process, only this time, he misses.

“Hey,” you whine. “You only brought up our proposal midway through this round. At least I deserve a chance card!”

He scoffs. “Pick a chance then. I doubt it’ll get you 7 balls closer to your competition.”

You scan the room in deep thought, one hand resting under your chin and atop the cue stick; and then, the idea hits you.

“He’ll play for me,” you announce, nodding toward the direction of where Minho is wiping down the counter with a rag. He looks up momentarily, furrowing his brows when he notices the shared looks of you and Jisung.

“Get over here!” Jisung shouts, and a few patrons of the tables nearby encourage the invitation, cheering and applauding.

“No,” Minho says as he shakes his head shyly. “I’m busy.”

“There’s literally no one around,” Jisung retorts. “Come on, I know you can try at least once.”

“He’s scared he’ll lose,” you chime in. “And then you’ll have to take me out on a date.”

You swear you see Minho’s eyes narrow, and then he dries his hands with the same rag before setting it down.

“One round only. If I win, you tip double.”

“Deal,” says Jisung, and you watch Minho strut over to the table.

He’s taller than you assumed, towering over you in a black pair of slacks that lengthen his muscular legs. In preparation, Minho cuffs up his sleeves a few more times, buttoning them at the forearm and loosening his collar. You try your hardest not to stare, but it’s a seemingly impossible task, you quickly realize, as he takes your cue stick and positions himself over the table. One loose strand of brown hair falls into his face, and you resist the urge to move it out of the way for him.

The tables nearby are quiet as Minho pulls back, and then aims, the first of your solids rolling into the hole with ease.

“Oh fuck you,” Jisung groans, and Minho positions himself over the next target. Aim, roll back, perfect shot.

Tables around you begin to gather around yours, watching silently as Minho repeats his method. Aim, roll, shoot. The heavy sound of a solid rolling down the velvety surface, and the satisfying plink as it finds its home inside the hole.

Only two solids remain, and Jisung rests his head on his cue stick as Minho takes aim again. “I can’t watch. Someone tell me if he gets it.”

Aim… roll… and double plink- both solids disappear into the hole beneath them, effectively ending the match between the two. The patrons clap and cheer loudly, and Jisung throws his hands in the air, groaning in annoyance. “Fuck, man! You didn’t say you knew how to play pool?”

Minho shrugs, not a hint of a smile on his face as he retrieves the balls and organizes them on the table again. Jisung slides him a twenty, and he shoots you a quick glance, nodding once as he leaves the table and disappears back into the kitchen. You wonder again what he’s thinking about, briefly worried you’ve annoyed him by pulling him away from his work.

“Hey,” Jisung says, snapping you out of your tranced state. “Did you want to… maybe… get out of here? I know a hotel just a few blocks from the bar. We can walk fast.”

You think it over momentarily, weighing your options. The rain has no intention of stopping anytime soon, and you’re dying for a shower at this point. You’re also persuaded by the idea of a warm bed- not to mention, a warm body, for the night.

“Sure! I’m just going to run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you outside.”

*

The reflection in the mirror looks rough, staring back at you like this, desperately fixing the smudged makeup to the best of your ability and spritzing perfume. It’s been a while since you hooked up with a random person- especially one from a dive bar like this, but somehow you trust him. He’s funny, sweet, and he’s undoubtedly attractive. Plus, maybe a hookup will distract you from the current state of things.

When you exit, you make your way past the barstools, thanking Minho briefly. His lips curl up into a hint of a smile, and you can’t help but feel bad for him- he’s stuck in this shitty bar regardless, dealing with obnoxious patrons seeking shelter from the storm and cleaning up after their drunken messes. He may be a little rude, but it’s deserved, you think, as he cleans off your dishes.

Finally exiting the bar, you look around for Jisung, shielding your eyes from sheets of rain and squinting against the dark sky. The only source of light is a hanging light beside the wooden bar sign, and it illuminates nothing past your immediate eyesight.

“Jisung?” You call, being met only with the sounds of heavy rainfall and swaying leaves.

“Jisung?”

The wind blows violently, and you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering against the brutal cold. A man enters the bar beside you, keeping the door open and ushering you inside. And you do enter again, marching straight to the bar to search for Jisung.

*

“Excuse me,” you say to Minho, who is busy preparing a beer on tap for another patron. “Did you see the man who was here earlier? Tall, black hair, suit?”

“You mean Jisung?” He says without looking at you, and you perk up at his name.

“Yes! Did you see where he went?”

“Yeah,” Minho replies dryly. “I told him you changed your mind about him.”

“You- what?”

Minho says nothing again, filling another mug of beer and sliding it across the counter to a patron.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He’s bad news,” Minho shrugs.

The words circle in your head for a good minute while you make sense of them. Minho ruined your chances at going home with Jisung- because he’s “bad news”? What does he even know about him?

“Why do you say that?” The question escapes your lips before you can ponder a more insightful one.

“I know him,” he replies casually. “Like I said- bad news.”

Frustration builds up steadily inside of you, turning your ears a bright shade of crimson and knitting your brows together in pure confusion.

“Who are you to determine that? You’re just a bartender! It’s none of your damn business who I leave with!”

He slaps a palm on the counter, not particularly hard, but enough to startle you a little.

“Actually, it is. I have a legal obligation to ensure my patrons don’t leave here inebriated behind a vehicle, or with strange men. And I saved you from the latter. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” You scoff. “Since I walked in here you’ve been nothing but a complete douche! There’s nothing to thank you for.”

“Then don’t,” Minho says. “I did my part either way.”

You stutter momentarily, settling on silence as he exits back to the kitchen and leaves you standing at the counter. The current state of things feels much like they did when you first entered- drenched from the rain, frustrated, and annoyed with the bartender. Only now, you can add cockblocked to the list, all thanks to Minho.

*

Two hours past the incident, your phone is completely dead. It’s just past 11 when the rain stills just for a little bit, and hoards of patrons file out of the bar to complete their short trips home. You remain stuck however, knowing the rain will pick up again if you attempt the six hour drive back right now. The bar is nearly empty at this hour, only two people sat at a far table, and the quiet swing of jazz music is now audible from your little booth. The peeling leather of the red seats below you is rather itchy, and the dim lantern hanging over you gives an orange-ish glow to the wooden table beneath you. You scribble mindless doodles on a stack of napkins in front of you, trying your best to pass the agonizing time spent here.

As you finalize the petals of a messy flower drawn on the napkin, a plate is set down in front of you, along with a glass of what you presume is Diet Coke. The smell instantly makes your mouth water- a cheesy omelet coupled with a side of french fries, steam still wafting off the plate and up into the glow of the booth’s lighting. You look up to see none other than Minho, and before you can protest, he slides into the booth across from you, setting a fork down on your napkin.

“You should eat,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s on me,” Minho emphasizes, and you finally look up from your drawing.

“Look,” he begins. “Jisung has been coming here for years. He’s a cool dude, I get it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly like I have a chance with him anymore,” you turn back to your drawing.

“He’s also married,” Minho finishes.

At that, your head snaps up at him, eyes widened in shock.

“What? But he said-”

“Yeah, that’s what he always says. It’s kind of his thing- picking up girls from the bar and taking them to that one hotel. I told you, he’s bad news.”

Silence washes over the booth as you swallow nervously. He shrugs apologetically, fiddling with his fingers as you begin to speak.

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. I just didn’t want you to come back here crying tomorrow morning like the last girl did.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks- Minho really was looking after you. You’d almost left this strange dive bar, in the middle of nowhere, to sleep with a married man in a sketchy hotel. In hindsight, it was stupid you ever agreed.

“At least eat some fries,” he says, and you remember the plate in front of you. You comply with his request, taking a bite of the still-warm fries which almost melt on your tongue.

“These are really good,” you tell him. “He was right about the food, at least.”

“I’m kind of a big deal here,” Minho says as he leans back. He smirks- the first time you’ve seen an expression on his face tonight.

“I’m sure. How did you get so good at pool, anyway?”

“I work at a dive bar,” Minho says. “Girls ask me to play with them all the time.”

“Do they now? Your reluctance earlier says otherwise.”

“Oh they do,” Minho says. “When they’re as shitty as you, I’m the chance card.”

“Hey!” You shout. Minho giggles, his head thrown back as his eyes form little crescents in amusement. His laugh makes you laugh, too, the musical sound of it making your heartbeat quicken a little. It’s melodic and lighthearted, and you almost forget you’re stuck with him in this hell of a bar. There’s a glow to him at this time of night.

“Run it back,” you say as his laughter dies down. “And I’ll show you I’m not entirely terrible.”

“Better hope you don’t lose,” he says. “You won’t have a chance card this time.”

*

You still suck at pool. Minho clears the table in two quick rounds, and you’ve barely had time to practice with your cue stick because it’s hardly ever your turn.

“Alright,” Minho says. “I’ll let you have this turn. It’s boring watching you stand there all night.”

You approach the table, positioning your cue stick and taking aim at your first solid of the match.

“Use your thumb on the front hand,” he chimes in.

“Like this?”

“No, it should be between your thumb and pointer finger.”

“Like I’m pinching it?” You ask confused, and Minho chuckles.

“Here.”

Before you can adjust your cue stick again, Minho is behind you, one hand finding yours at the front of the cue stick and positioning it between your thumb and pointer finger like he explained. His hands are cold to the touch, and you’re intimidated having him this close to you. The other hand gently grips your elbow, moving it back a little as he scans the current trajectory. His face is dangerously close to yours, hair falling beautifully into his eyes as he moves, lips parted in concentration and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks.

“There. Try now.”

You do as he instructs, rolling back and taking aim at your solid. Aim, shoot… and the familiar roll of your ball across the table. Only this time, it’s followed by the satisfying sound of falling into its respective hole.

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim. “That’s only the third one I’ve gotten tonight!”

Minho chuckles, amused with your ardent reaction. “Your aim isn’t bad at all. It’s just your positioning.”

He turns to smile at you, momentarily unaware of how close he is to you. He’s towering over you, lips pulled into a mischievous grin as your eyes glimmer, still reeling off the high of scoring. For a brief second, your eyes flicker down to his lips, maybe a little too obviously, and then back up at his eyes.

“I should probably get back to the kitchen,” Minho says nervously. “I think that table ordered drinks like one round ago.”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little hurt that he’s leaving again. “I’m pretty tired, anyway.”

“You want something else to eat?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Good luck with work, though!” You avert his gaze fully now, mentally tracing the pattern on the rug below you.

When Minho leaves, you can’t help but mentally scold yourself. He’s just a bartender- one whose job is to serve you drinks and keep you out of trouble here. Not some friend to stand around and play pool with, regardless of how good he is, or hypnotizing it feels when he touches you.

*

At 1am, the bar is officially empty. The last few patrons leave after a round of gin vodkas, somehow getting an Uber despite the storm and leaving home for the night. You debate getting a room at the nearby hotel, but there’s no way you’ll be able to reserve a room this late, and your phone is still dead. It would probably be smart to attempt some method of getting home, but a part of you strangely doesn’t want to leave the bar anymore. It feels like a vessel into another universe, like time doesn’t exist here, like the storm or the ride home aren’t important as long as you’re sat in this little booth. You’re well aware the bar closes in an hour, but you’d rather wait until the hour to decide what to do.

Of course, part of it could be the bartender. You don’t want to like Minho, but you can’t quite make sense of him, either. He’s attractive, but reserved. He’s outgoing, but he has his guard up. And his walls break down when he’s enjoying himself, but he builds them up quickly again, and you can’t understand what triggers it. He’s much like the bar is- safe and homely, yet mysterious and alluring.

As you take a sip of your Diet Coke, neck craned to watch the show playing on the tv above you, a familiar face scoots into the booth across from you.

“Subway,” he says.

“What?”

“Jeopardy. Restaurants by slogan: Eat Fresh. It’s Subway.” He's referring to the episode of Jeopardy you’ve been watching for the past half hour.

“Everyone knows that,” you say with a smile.

You expect him to defend himself, but instead he laughs and shakes his head.

“Either our diet cokes are really good, or you’re not in any rush to get home.”

You sigh, swirling your straw around your third can of Coke and shrugging.

“I can’t make it home in this rain. The roads are closed going my direction, anyway.”

“Where’s home?”

“Far from here. In the city.”

Minho sits back comfortably now, arms crossed in front of him as he listens to you speak.

“City girl. I guessed it.”

“What gave me away?” You ask with a smile.

“iPhone charger request. And you drink Diet Coke exclusively.”

“I don’t like to waste my calories!” You argue.

“You’re in a dive bar.”

The two of you share laughter at your admission, and you can feel your cheeks heat up again. He sure knows how to make you laugh.

“I’ll probably get a motel room for tonight,” you say. “I think there’s one walking distance from here.”

“The nearest one is a shithole. I’m pretty sure someone died there, like, a few months ago.”

You exhale deeply, poking around at your drink with your straw.

“I have work on Monday. I have to get some shut-eye or I won’t be able to get home even if it does stop raining.”

Minho glances around the bar, observing the vacant tables and empty parking lot.

“Yah, Jeongin-ah!” He shouts suddenly, and a figure appears around the kitchen door, peering over at your table.

“Yeah?”

“Clock out,” Minho says. “We’re closing an hour early.”

“An hour? But what if-”

“No one else is coming in this rain. Just grab your stuff And get home safely. I’ll handle the rest of the tables.”

Jeongin’s gaze darts over at you quickly, and then back to Minho, as he nods without saying another word. He disappears into the kitchen once again, presumably to gather his belongings.

“You don’t have to close on account of me,” you say finally, a little unsure of his motives. “I can walk to the motel from here.”

He scoffs, sliding out from the booth and gathering a stack of dirty dishes from the table beside you. “I told you, it’s not safe. You can chill here for the next hour while I do closing procedures, and if it’s still raining, I can at least give you a ride there.”

“Why should I trust you?” You ask, hint of sarcasm present in your voice, but still cautious.

“Technically you shouldn’t,” he says with a smile. “But you’re free to call the cops on me whenever you want.”

“Nice try. My phone's dead.” You shoot him a smile, knowing he’s just messing with you, but wanting to entertain his little game nonetheless.

“Back room, third drawer in the file cabinet. There should be a phone charger there.”

You gasp and scoff. “I thought this wasn’t a convenience store!”

“It’s not,” Minho says, flashing you a toothy smile as he makes his way to the kitchen and calls out over his shoulder. “It’s a dive bar. My dive bar.”

*

Minho scrubs grease off the plates while you dry mugs on the counter adjacent to him and arrange them neatly in a row.

“So you haven’t left this town in years?” You ask Minho, continuing the conversation you’ve been having with him for the past 45 minutes.

“I drive to the city probably once a year,” he replies. “Hate it.”

“Why?”

“It’s too busy. I prefer simple. Simple people, simple places. A simple life.”

“How can you say that when you’ve never experienced it the other way around before?”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Experienced a simpler life. Outside of the city.”

“Well… kind of. I mean, I moved out the second I turned 18. Grew up in the suburbs, but I traveled to the city every chance I got. I always knew I wanted to be there.”

“So you’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible?”

“I guess not.”

He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“I grew up in the city.”

“You did?”

“Hated it,” Minho says.

“Why’s that?”

“I was… easily distracted. Got involved with a lot of bad crowds. Never knew what I wanted. Worked as a private chef for a while, actually.”

You stop drying the mug you’re working on and look at him in utter shock.

“You?”

“Me,” he affirms with a chuckle. “I quit one random day five years ago and moved out here with every penny I saved. Obtained ownership of this bar and haven’t looked back since.”

You nod at his words, resuming your task as he shuts off the water.

“Takes some courage, I’ll give you that.”

Minho leans back against the counter and rests his hands on the table behind him. He smirks at you knowingly, and you can feel his eyes pierce through you out of your peripheral vision.

“What?” You say with a blushing grin.

“Nothing,” he replies. “You make a good employee here.”

“Yeah, right,” you say sarcastically, lining up the last mug on the counter and turning around to face him.

“I’d probably start a fire with running water or something crazy.”

He laughs again, shaking his head as you cross your arms.

“I need to close up the registers,” Minho says. “You want to hang out here until I’m done?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he bows slightly.

“I’ll try to be fast.”

Minho leaves to the back office as you wipe your hands with a dish rag, smiling in a daze.

*

While Minho counts change in the office, you explore the place a bit, making your way around the pool tables to the back of the bar. It’s then that you notice a tall staircase almost hidden away in a back corner. You slowly make your way up the stairs, tip-toeing so as not to startle Minho while he’s in the office closing up for the night. The creaky wooden stairs are muffled by the sound of the rain outside.

When you reach the top, you lean on the banister, looking down on the bar and taking in the view. It looks especially charming like this, illuminated only by the golden neon sign hung over the bar counter and reflecting off the big glass cabinets. Entrance through a small doorway leads to a single, dark room, and you turn on the dim light to explore the room.

There are only two things in the room- another pool table, visibly much older than the others downstairs, and an old arcade game. Upon closer inspection, you find that the game is a run-down version of Pac-Man, one of your favorite arcade games growing up. The giant yellow display is decorated with whimsical little drawings of Pac-Man and ghosts, and you can’t help but crack a smile at the sight, remembering the days you used to play as a kid.

You try the on switch, being met with a buzzing noise and the glow of red marquee lights, but nothing appears on the screen. Bummer, you think to yourself.

“It’s never turned on,” a voice says behind you, and you let out a shout, startled at the sudden noise.

When you turn around, Minho is standing with his hands in his pockets, a black blazer thrown over his button up shirt and a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Got it as a donation a few months ago and it’s lived up here ever since. I think it’d be a hit, if it actually worked.”

You turn back to the machine, observing the gentle hum from the static on the monitor display.

“It’s probably something with the PCB,” you reply, and Minho turns to look at you.

“The what?”

“The printed circuit board,” You repeat, setting your purse down on the floor beside you. “You have a screwdriver?”

Minho’s brows furrow together in confusion, but he nods slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

He leaves momentarily and returns with the requested tool, watching as you drop to your knees and unscrew the door to the cabinet.

“The lights turn on, which is a good thing,” you explain to him. “Means the monitor is still in good condition. So It’s probably just slowed down with general wear.”

When the cabinet door is off, Minho leans back against the pool table and observes as you pull out little parts from the myriad of pieces along the circuit.

“I figured,” You say, sitting back with a tissue in hand. “The EPROMs and ROMs are all warped.”

You pull a bobby pin out from your hair, gently wiggling the pins back in place before cleaning them off with a tissue.

Minho is lost as he watches you, mouth agape at the level of focus in your expression, tongue poking out between your lips as you move with purpose and determination. He realizes he may have undermined you this whole time, thinking secretly you’d crave a simpler life, when all along it was your intelligence and wit that drew you to the city. You’re as complex as the city, he thinks. You can’t be confined within the safety of these four walls like he can. And maybe he’s complex, too. But he’s not sure of himself the way you seem to be.

When you’re finished wiping down the acronyms of pieces, you fit them back in and screw back on the door. Minho watches curiously as you plug in the machine again, reaching around the frame for the switch and flipping it on.

The familiar hum of the screen starts up again, only this time it flashes a bright white color, and then displays PAC-MAN as soft music begins to play.

“Holy shit,” Minho says with a breathy chuckle. “That would've been thousands to get repaired.”

“Take it as a thank you,” you say. “For helping me out tonight.”

You hoist yourself up on the pool table and gesture to the display as he stares in awe. “Try it!”

Minho presses the red START button, chuckling when the familiar tune starts up and the game begins. He makes it through a few rows before getting eaten by a pixelated ghost, groaning when the game flashes GAME OVER and starts up another round.

But he doesn’t resume playing, instead turning around to face you with an unmoving expression.

“It’s drizzling,” he says, looking past you out the little window.

“Mhm,” you reply, though you’re not registering a word he's saying anymore. He’s dangerously close to you again, eye-level with you while you’re sat atop the pool table and not taking your gaze off him.

He seems to be trembling with anticipation, his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes, hoping you’ll notice the motion and do something, anything with it.

“We should probably get going,” You say in a whisper.

He swallows cautiously. “Yeah.”

“Right now that the rain is a little lighter.”

“Yeah,” he says again, though neither of you make any move to leave.

“Thanks for tonight,” you reply, your eyes fully locked on his lips now.

Minho begins to say something, but his voice hitches in his throat, instead opting to swallow and and take a single step forward. And before you can say another word, his face tilts in front of you, gently pressing his lips to yours.

He kisses you gently, but he doesn’t waste any time, hands caressing your waist in his embrace and pressing up against you. He tastes like mint, his tongue mixing the flavor with the taste of Diet Coke still in your mouth. When he pulls away, he says nothing, searching your expression for a sign of how you’re feeling. You say nothing, too, eyes flickering over his serious gaze and waiting for him to break the silence.

When he still doesn’t talk, you reach out to grab his collar, pulling him toward you again. You kiss him first this time, slipping your tongue inside his parted lips to taste him fully, gripping his collar like you might lose him if you let go.

“Fuck,” Minho says, pulling away and breathing heavily. He squeezes his eyes shut, a nervous expression tugging at his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t do this,” Minho replies. “With patrons. I just… I don’t know what got into me…”

His words trail off as you work little kisses down his jawline and neck, nibbling over his clavicle and humming greedily against him.

“What if I wanted you to?”

Minho stares at the ceiling as you work him, breath hitching in his throat as you trail even lower.

You pull away from him, tilting his gaze down to meet yours with a hand on his cheek.

“Say you don’t want to kiss me again,” you clarify. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

His eyes narrow, piercing through yours as his hands rest gently on your upper thighs.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Minho says seriously.

Your heart drops instantly, the anticipation that had built up pending his answer quickly fizzling as his words pierce through you. Your throat is dry, dozens of questions circling your mind, but nothing that comes to fruition amidst your disappointment. Guess it wasn’t the way you’d read into it all night.

“Okay.” Your voice is shaky, doing nothing to mask your disappointment.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Minho says again quickly, his thumbs tracing circle patterns on your thighs. He leans in again, lips just barely grazing over yours as he speaks in a whisper. “I want you right here, on this table, right now. I want to do a lot more than just kiss you.”

Your heartbeat resumes, pulsing wildly as he scans your face for a reaction. You don’t grant him one through your facial expressions- rather, you pull him in by his collar once again, closing the gap between you and kissing him even harder this time. You can feel Minho smirking into the kiss, amused with how desperate you are at the simple admission.

His hands snake up your sweater, grabbing desperately at your lower back and pressing into you with his hips. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, neck craned to the side for easy access while he begins to work kisses down your neck now.

“You really suck at pool,” Minho says as he smiles against your skin. His lips find yours again, giving you repeated chaste kisses as you tangle your hands in his hair. His lips feel familiar on yours- almost like you’ve done this a hundred times before. You can’t imagine a version of him you weren’t kissing like this.

“You’re calculated,” you say, smiling as you loosen the black tie around his neck.

“How so?”

“No phone charger, you only agree to play pool when a date with Jisung is on the line, and you’ve gotten me to stick around this long? You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Minho throws his head back a little, his eyebrows arching as he laughs loudly.

“You might be a genius at fixing arcade games, but you don’t have everything figured out the way you think you do.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He pulls away again, completing your task of loosening his tie, and then discarding it completely on the table beside you.

“It stopped raining 15 minutes ago,” he says slyly. “And suddenly you’re in no rush to go home anymore.”

His eyebrows are raised as his hands caress your thighs, moving higher until he’s grazing your hip bones with his fingertips. You don’t reply, suddenly hot at his words, and knowing he’s in fact entirely correct about it. It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting around for all night- a break in the rainfall to get back to your car and make it to a hotel for the night. But paired against the other opportunity right in front of you- the one wearing nothing but a loosened white shirt and a devilish smirk on his face, you can’t do much but resort to the latter.

“You gonna spread for me?” Minho asks in a gentle teasing tone, his voice much quieter than before as your breath hitches in your throat. You nod, disregarding his first statement and doing as you’re told, slipping off your jeans and opening your legs just enough so that he can move his fingertips to graze your inner thighs. It feels dirty like this, so sinful for your skin to make contact with the velvety table below you. But you’re too dazed with lust, completely encapsulated by his movements to do anything except obey him.

“Good girl,” Minho replies, and your heartbeat quickens at the praise.

His hands dance in gentle back and forth motions along your thighs, gradually getting closer to your core, until his middle finger rests gently atop your clothed clit.

Your eyes dart down to his hand briefly, waiting desperately for him to touch you, to kiss you, anything.

“Look at me,” Minho says.

And you do, making eye contact again with his cold stare, piercing salaciously through your doe eyes.

Another smirk grows on his face as he crouches lower, and lower, dropping to his knees until he’s eye level with your aching pussy.

“Please…” you say, resting your weight back on your palms and spreading your legs further for him. Your breaths are labored, eyebrows arched up at just the thought of his tongue on you.

“Please what?”

“Please, would you… eat me out?” You request quietly, somehow internally panicked that he’ll decline.

But he doesn’t- instead he loops a finger through your underwear, pulling down in a sudden motion, eyes widened at the sight of you like this. You’re swollen with arousal, clit visibly quivering at the proximity of his breath against your folds. Your pussy is deliciously sopping for him, glazed juices painting your cunt all for him.

“God,” he breaks the silence. “You’re soaking. I could probably put it in now and you’d take it, wouldn’t you?”

You don’t answer him, tucking strands of hair behind your ears and looking down on him with anticipation.

“Okay,” Minho says with a slight chuckle. “Just relax for me.”

And without wasting another minute, his hands find purchase on your knees, scooting you closer to the edge of the table before finally burying his face in you. His tongue licks a long stripe along your pussy, smiling at the taste, before his lips latch themselves around your clit and suck harshly.

Your eyes roll back almost instantly, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue gliding back and forth over your folds like a starved animal. His plump lips remain latched to your clit, suckling with lewd wet noises and basking in the flavor of your arousal for him. As your legs tremble with pleasure, your hands quickly find themselves tangled in his hair, grinding him up against you and using his face to satisfy the delicious ache between your legs. Minho is well aware of your desperation, pulling away mere centimeters to grin at your reaction.

“Don’t stop,” you say, massaging his tresses in encouragement to keep going. Minho chuckles, this time latching on to your bundle of nerves with a gentle graze of his bunny teeth. He nibbles tenderly, eyes rolling up to watch your reaction as you sense the shift in his actions.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out frantically. “That feels so fucking good."

Minho smiles into your pussy, giving one small lick with his tongue before utilizing his velvety lips on your clit once again.

“Mmh…” he hums into your pussy, sending divine vibrations that tickle your arousal and instinctively make you moan for him.

“You taste so good,” Minho says between suckling. “I wanna make you cum for me.”

You nod down at him, rubbing little circles on his scalp and throwing your head back when he dips his tongue into your entrance.

“Oh god!”

At first he takes little kitten licks at your entrance, coming back up to kiss your clit repeatedly while you wait in anticipation. And then he brings a hand up to your entrance, sliding one finger in and working it around your pussy as he continues the unwavering attention on your bundle of nerves.

“Yeah, just like that,” you encourage him.

“You like it when I do both at once?” Minho inquires with a knowing smile.

“Yes, fuck” you can hardly answer him between the high-pitched moans that fill the dark room.

“Like when I fill you up?” A kiss on your clit. “Like when I taste you?” He laps at your folds. “Like when I fuck you like this?” Two fingers pump in and out of you now, smearing your arousal back on your clit which he wastes no time lapping up on his tongue.

“Yes, fuck Minho! Please, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Want you to make a mess on my face.”

His fingers pump at an even faster pace while he sucks your clit between his teeth and emits a deep moan against your wetness. The vibration of his voice gives attention to the rest of your aching pussy, which finally contracts desperately around his fingers as you leak cum on his tongue. Minho licks you clean, chuckling against you when he takes your clit between his teeth again and hears you gasp in overstimulation.

Both of you say nothing as he stands back up, eye-level to you once again, his chin glazed in your juices. He rests his hands on your thighs as he did before, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on your lips and smile against you. Your hands toy with his belt buckle, tracing the pattern in your fingertips before slowly undoing the buckle and snaking the belt out from the loops on his trousers.

“Let me return the favor?” You ask against his lips, and he takes a sharp breath when you unzip his pants.

“Can I be honest?” Minho replies, and you pull away to look him in the eyes. His round eyes are dark, hooded with lust and curiously peering back at you.

He grins sheepishly, massaging your thighs with the palms of his hands as he speaks. “I think I’ve been hard for you the second you walked in here.”

The words make your heart flutter, suddenly much more aware of his contact against your skin, an insatiable desire to satisfy him and let him do whatever he may please.

Maybe you were the one mistaken all night- maybe Minho’s curt attitude and cold demeanor wasn’t in fact discourteousness at all. Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. And now here you are, each drawn to the other like moths to a burning flame, eager to explore and make the fleeting moment last in any way you could.

You laugh at his admission, moving strands of hair out from his face and tucking your face in the crook of his neck, where he presses a chaste kiss to your temple through nervous laughter of his own.

“Yeah?” You say finally. “What are you going to do about it?”

Minho narrows his eyes with a challenging expression, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off the table, where he now towers over you and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Turn around,” he orders candidly. Your heart flutters again at the implication- him ordering you around like this when he’s already satisfied you once. But the tone he maintains is both sweet and inviting, and you know his intentions are the same as yours.

You follow his command, facing the pool table as he presses you against the edge, arms wrapping around your waist and peppering your shoulders in little kisses.

His hands snake up your sweater, where he now cups your breasts in his large palms and unclasps your bra. Once you’re bare, you hear him pull down his trousers, the muffled sound sending chills down your spine. If you weren’t dripping with anticipation before, you certainly are now. Minho latches his lips onto your throat, suckling just enough to mark purple bruises along your neck and collarbones. Part of you wants to deny him the little pleasure, reminding him that you have work on Monday and you can’t show up looking like you spent the weekend at a frat party. But the way his skewed front teeth nibble at your flesh stings delightfully, and you can’t bring yourself to protest it.

It’s then that you feel him behind you- his erection pressing into your upper thigh. He pushes into you with force, grinding softly on your skin and moaning against your neck when he feels you lean back into him.

One of your hands reaches out to palm him over the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a soft whimper at the contact.

“Jesus,” he says “I can’t wait anymore. Prop your leg up for me, baby. On the- yeah, just like that.”

He guides you with one hand, moving your thigh up so that he has better access to your cunt as he palms himself more with his other hand.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, now freeing his cock from his boxers and tapping gently at your entrance. The sensation of his bare flesh against yours has you in a daze, desperate to be filled up by him.

“Mhm,” you say, drunk off the feeling of him behind you like this.

“Gonna put it in now, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing heavily as he jerks himself a few times. And without another minute to spare, he’s sliding himself inside of you, bottoming out almost instantaneously as your pussy takes him with ease.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You’re so big.”

Minho smiles against your neck, pressing one chaste kiss and gathering your hair out from in front of your face.

He starts with gentle thrusts, panting in your ear and letting his hands wander all over your body as he moves. Your eyebrows arch up in pleasure, mouth agape as he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of his thrusting teeming all around you.

“God, you take me so well,” Minho breathes. “You’re so wet for me still.”

You can barely respond to him, one hand reaching up to tilt his jaw toward you so you can kiss him on the mouth again, your lips drooling with saliva and fucked-out with pleasure.

“I’m close,” Minho says into your mouth, pausing his thrusts momentarily to then pick up the pace again, much faster and with even more force.

“Ah- me too.”

As he moves in and out of your sopping cunt, one of his hands sprawls out across your tummy, pushing down with gentle pressure as he thrusts. You feel your insides contract at the sensation, now much closer to your release.

“Fuck, M-Min I’m gonna,”

He smiles against your neck again, amused with your reaction to the little move.

“Let go,” he says breathlessly into your ear. “I know you can give me a second one.”

His hand pushes down a little more, now tickling your insides with the constrained sensation against your abdomen.

And between his thrusts, you feel yourself let go around him, letting out a series of breathy moans as you cum on his still-moving cock. Only this time, you let go of everything, trickling fluids over him and the edge of the table, soaking the floor with remnants of you.

Minho’s orgasm follows just seconds after, breathing out melodic whimpers and moans as he feels you squirt, shooting ropes of his cum inside of you and fondling your breasts through his orgasm. He thrusts every last drop back into you, pulling out when he feels you shudder from overstimulation once again.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses as he pulls out. “You made a mess for me, baby.”

When you’re both finished, you’re quick to dress yourself, pulling your sweater back over your head and buttoning your jeans once again. Minho turns around while you get dressed, well aware that he was inside of you just minutes ago, but wanting to respect your boundaries now that you’re no longer being intimate. He gets dressed too, observing through the little window how the rain hasn’t started again in the entirety you’ve been up here. When you’re done, he turns back around, shooting you a little smile as you fix your hair.

“What?” You inquire, mirroring his expression as he stares back at you.

“Where have you been?” Minho asks simply.

“Hm?”

“Where have you been all my life?”

You cock your head a little, not missing the way he blinks nervously a few times after asking the question.

“Not the suburbs,” you reply with a smile. “That’s for sure.”

*

The gentle lull of jazz music rings through Minho’s ears as he wakes, glancing around to take in his surroundings. He’s sprawled out on the dingy red couch in the back room, still wearing last night’s clothes, hair glued to his forehead under a sheen layer of sweat. The clamoring of dishes startles him, and he furrows his brows together in annoyance as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Minho?” A voice says, and he shuts his eyes preemptively at the inquiry. “Did you…sleep here?”

When his eyelids flutter open again, he’s met with Jeongin, who’s already showered and dressed for his noon opening shift, clutching the till in both hands as he observes Minho’s disheveled state.

Beside him, the little folding table is in disarray, empty bottles of coke and peanut shells scattered everywhere. His mind goes back to last night- the arcade game, kissing you in the spare room upstairs. Fucking you over the pool table at ungodly hours of the night.

After you’d both finished, you agreed to stay in the back room downstairs until daylight when it was a bit safer to be on the road again. You and Minho chatted over diet cokes and a game of cards, between makeout sessions and desperate groping at each other in the dim light of the room. He wanted so badly to make love to you all over again, resisting the urge only because he didn’t want you to think all of this was just for sex. And maybe it started that way, when he fled back to the kitchen after helping you adjust your cue stick during a round of pool in an attempt to hide his raging hard-on. But somewhere along the way, he was also encapsulated by you- by your endearing obsession with Diet Coke, your ability to carry a conversation with a total stranger in these circumstances, and undoubtedly, your unique talent at fixing things.

It was just past 5 when you left, doing a double-take at Minho’s snoring figure to ensure he was actually asleep. You wanted to thank him- in fact, you stood over him for several minutes, playing the conversation in your head of how this would go.

“I’m leaving now- thanks for the life-changing sex and the free sodas. Call me if you’re ever in the city you despise.”

There was no good way to go about it- any which way, you knew that the two of you were destined for very different things, to live completely separate lives.

“You’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible,” Minho had said to you earlier, and you knew he was right, even still longing to one day get out of this province, and maybe even this country. A simpler life scared you- exactly what Minho chased after. And perhaps by extension, chasing after Minho scared you, too.

The dive bar suddenly feels suffocating to Minho, still looming with the rotten scent of cigarettes and beers. For the first time ever, he feels boxed in, much too confined by the four walls and the foggy window at the back.

“I’m leaving,” Minho says, quickly gathering his bag and his blazer from off the floor.

“Where are you going?” Jeongin asks, still holding the till and scanning Minho with a worried expression on his face.

Minho isn’t sure where- in fact, he’s not quite sure about anything right now. All he knows is that you’ve sparked something in him, something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. The days of working as a private chef paint vivid memories in his mind, days which he still had passion within him, trying new recipes late through the night and never ceasing to better his methods. A time that now feels one lifetime ago, much more complex in juxtaposition with this new life. Except maybe simple wasn’t the solution all along- for once, he’s determined to bask in all your complexities, even if it means sacrificing everything he left the city to pursue.

“I’m going to the city,” Minho says, combing through his hair with his fingers.

“The city? I thought you hated it there?”

Minho says nothing, sauntering to the door and fishing his car keys out of the drawer by the register.

“Oh, and Jeongin-ah?”

“Yes?”

“Call someone to move that arcade game downstairs.”

“The Pac-Man one? It doesn’t work-”

“It does now,” Minho replies. “Just promise me it’ll be down here when I get back.”

“Sure thing. But- how’d you get it to work?”

And without looking back, Minho approaches the double doors, keys in hand, no particular destination in mind. The gray clouds have nearly cleared up by now, fresh hues of blue painting the vast sky that overlooks the day ahead. The city calls out to him from afar, bustling traffic and busy roads clouded in pollution. But this time, he answers, in hopes you’ll be there, too.

*Part 2 out now, available here.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | check yes, juliet

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over halfway finished! i'll be posting poisoned mercury playlists soon! pls continue to send me songs that remind you of this series. i'm running out of songs to use as titles. thank u for all the love on this fic <3

series masterlist | previous | next

vi. check yes, juliet by we the kings

“where are we going?” 

“are you going to ask that every two seconds?” 

“you kidnapped me, castellan.” 

luke stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at you. you were about a quarter mile away from camp now, and it seemed like every ten steps, you asked him the same question. if he didn’t find you so cute, he would turn around and walk straight back to camp. 

“i will throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way there, five star,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes teasingly. he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but by the look on your face, you certainly were. “don’t test me.” 

“and i will scream bloody murder if you do,” you narrowed your eyes at him in a challenging manner. 

“here i am, trying to do something nice for you and you accuse me of kidnapping you,” luke continued his steps, slowing down to let you catch up to him. he didn’t realize how much shorter you were than him. the top of your head just went past his shoulders, but your personality made up for the difference. “we’re almost there, keep up.” 

“not everyone has long legs, castellan,” you huffed, increasing your pace. “slow down.” 

“do you want to get there or not?” he asked, throwing you a teasing smile over his shoulder. you guys really needed to get there soon. the sun was beginning to set and he didn’t want you to have to walk in the dark, even if he was with you. your safety came first, above everything, and he wasn’t gonna put you in a potentially dangerous situation. 

you whined, tugging on the side of his t-shirt, “how much longer?” 

“that’s it,” luke declared, squatting down to throw you over his shoulder. you squealed, hitting his back with your balled up fists. he knew you didn’t do it to hurt him. he can feel you pulling your punches. 

you felt the vibrations from his laughter on his back. luke was enjoying this too much. he carried you over his shoulder like it was nothing. perhaps all those morning workouts were paying off. you twisted your neck to scold him, thankful that he couldn’t see the smile on your lips, “put me down, i swear to god.” 

“nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ he tapped your calf with his fingers, “it’s just around the corner.” 

luke put you down in front of a building. there were five store fronts, three of which had faulty neon lights. you could barely make out the store names. the other two stores had signs up declaring vacancy. it was a little sketchy, but luke seemed to love it. he had his hands on his hips, staring up at the sign that seemed to say “achilles arcade.” 

“what is this place?” luke held the door open for you as you wandered inside the store. the place was dimly lit with old-school arcade games lining the walls. an old man was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the morning paper. 

“just wait,” luke grinned, pulling on your hand to lead you to get some tokens, “chiron! my man.” 

the man placed the newspaper on the surface, eyes lighting up at the sound of luke’s voice. he beamed, “luke castellan! i was afraid you weren’t gonna come back.” 

“you know i keep my promises,” luke let go of your hand, introducing you to chiron, “chiron, this is yn. she goes to camp with me.” 

“pleasure to meet you,” he tipped his head, reaching under the counter to dig out a bucket full of golden tokens. 

you took out your wallet, “how much do we owe you?” 

“on the house,” he waved off, “he donated a ridiculous sum of money to keep this place up and running. too generous, this one, so it wouldn’t be right for me to charge you when he’s keeping me in business.” 

luke shook his head, sliding a hundred across the counter anyway. he took your wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, knowing that you’ll probably try to slip him some cash if he didn’t. you grumbled, but decided not to pick a fight. it didn’t seem like one you’d win. 

luke grabbed the bucket by the handle and turned to you, “where do you want to start, five star?” 

“you took me to an arcade?” 

“yeah,” luke said, sheepishly, “whenever i run out of cigs, i always go to an arcade to keep my mind off things. it’s childish, but it works. figured you could try it. plus, there’s a smoke shop across the street so we can go there when we’re done here.” 

“only one thing is better than the feeling of a new cherry ice vape,” you got close to him, nearly toe to toe. luke could smell the perfume on your skin, the scent of your shampoo, and his cologne that lingered on the hoodie of his that you wore. he reminded you that you always got cold and that you should bring a sweater, but you assured him that you wouldn’t. halfway to the arcade, you were shivering and luke knew that he made the right decision bringing his hoodie with him. 

you rolled your eyes, but accepted it. his hoodie stopped mid-thigh and engulfed you, but it looked better on you than it ever did on him. something about you wearing a hoodie that had his band name on it made his heart skip a beat. he had to listen to you make fun of him for tripping over air after he saw you in his clothes, but he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

he licked his lips, eyes darting to your own, “and what is that, five star?”

“beating your ass at galaga.” 

luke’s laughter echoed throughout the empty arcade as you ran from him with the tokens in your hand. you looked back at him with a mischievous smile on your face and he felt his heartstrings tug in his chest. you stuck your tongue out at him, starting the game as he stayed in his spot, admiring you. 

there weren’t many moments where he could be out in public like this, so when his mom reluctantly agreed to stop at this building on the way to camp due to a flat tire, luke and the boys were ecstatic to find that there was an empty arcade hidden in montauk. luke talked to chiron and learned his story while the boys played random games to kill the time. luke found out that the arcade wasn’t doing well financially with the increase in rent prices and that they would have to close down at the end of the summer if things don’t pick up again. chiron mentioned that he and his partner started this business twenty years ago, and he was sad to see it go. 

luke excused himself and snuck back into the tour bus to grab his checkbook. he wrote a check that covered rent and other expenses for the year and gave it to chiron. of course the man refused it, but luke wasn’t taking no for an answer, not after chiron shared that the arcade was the last living piece of his partner. luke castellan was a hopeless romantic, which not many people knew. he knew he was done for the minute he heard their love story. 

he stood there for a few moments, watching as you cheered, dodging the blasts of your enemies. you were so animated while you played, so expressive with your eyes and your voice. he’d only seen you like this a handful of times, talking to clarisse about god knows what, talking to the younger campers and asking them questions about their projects and interests, and when you asked him about his music. all of your monotoned replies and deadpan looks were all he got for the longest time, it seemed like your nonchalance was only for him, so it was nice to see you like this. it felt like you were warming up to him. 

he thought about the talk the two of you had in your room, how different you’d been then. after being iced out for weeks, luke was a little shocked at how soft you were with him earlier, playing with his rings, holding his hand, talking to him. it was a welcomed surprise, of course, but he expected you to kick him to the curb. he still didn’t understand what actually happened after the concert, but he figured you already had a tough day, so that conversation can wait. 

he made his way to you, leaning across the screen to slightly block your view, “you might be better than me at this game, but your ass is mine at guitar hero.” 

“not fair,” you were focused on the game, eyes glued on the screen in front of you. “you’re in a band. of course you’re gonna be better than me at that.” 

“life’s not fair, five star,” luke poked your side, making you squirm. you died in the game because of it. “my turn, yeah?” 

you shoved his chest, reluctantly moving over. “you cheated.” 

he looked over his shoulder, smirking, “how did i cheat?” 

“you distracted me!” 

“i did not!” he argued, chuckles escaping his lips. his tongue darted out the corner of his mouth. his concentration face was annoyingly attractive. 

“did too,” you mumbled, watching over his shoulder to see how he was doing. he was doing really well. damn teenage boys and their affinity for video games. your chin rested comfortably on his shoulder blade as you watched him play. 

luke’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly too aware that you were so close to him. he could feel your breath against the nape of his neck, your lips dangerously close to where his tattoo was. he snuck a glance at you, noting how you were too focused on his score inching closer to your own. 

“ha!” you yelled, pulling away from him. you bumped his hip with yours, moving him out of the way, “my turn.” 

“okay, you cheated.” 

you hit pause on the game, placing your hands on your waist, “how?” 

“you were distracting me! putting your head on my shoulder and shit.” 

“awww,” you cooed, playfulness in your tone, “do i make you nervous?” 

luke’s face flushed. he shook his head, tilting his head down to hide the color on his face. he rubbed the back of his neck, “play your fucking game.” 

you said something about him being a sore loser and cheered loudly when you beat his score. when you both ran out of lives, luke led you to guitar hero and as expected, kicked your ass at the game. the two of you played in the arcade until there was one golden token left in the bottom of the bucket. as you wandered around the room, your eyes landed on a black and white photobooth tucked away in the corner. 

“let’s take some pictures,” you grabbed his hand, leading him over there before he could say no. you shoved him inside the photobooth, tapping his knee to make him stop manspreading on the small bench. 

it could barely fit two people so it was a tight squeeze. you were sitting so close to luke, thighs pressed together as you tapped on the small screen to begin the process. luke could feel the warmth of your skin against his and he was glad that there was no colored photos option because his cheeks were bright red. maybe he can blame the lights making him feel hot if you brought it up, but he wasn’t sure if his voice even worked enough to utter out his excuse. 

“you better smile, castellan,” you threatened, turning to look at him before you inserted the token in the slot. “not that little side smirk shit that you do in all your pictures.” 

“what side smirk?” 

“that thing you do in your pictures!” you shouted, “in every single instagram post, you always do it.” 

luke raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile appearing on his lips, “you’ve stalked my instagram?” 

“not the point,” you ducked, pretending to mess with the settings of the photobooth. luke can see your shy smile on the screen in front of him. “i’m just saying, smile normally.” 

“that’s how i smile, five star! what do you want me to do?” 

“that is not how you smile!” you argued. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you faced him. he was already looking at you, soft eyes and a hint of a smile on his features. a stray curl was out of place on his head and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over to put it back in place. luke held his breath as your fingers grazed the side of his face, taking much longer than you needed to fix his hair. your thumb subconsciously rubbed against the scar on his cheek. luke let his eyes close at the feeling. 

“there,” you whispered, pulling your hand back to your side. “that’s how you smile.” 

he tried his best to keep that same expression on his face to see what you were talking about. he glanced at the screen and found himself stunned at what he found. you were right. this is not how he looked in his instagram pictures. he almost didn’t recognize himself as he stared. he looked different like this. 

there were no creases between his eyebrows or on his forehead, like there was no stress on his shoulders. his eyes looked brighter somehow as if he was at peace, exactly where he needed to be at that moment. his lips were quirked up in a tender smile, parts of his teeth showing between the gap of his top lip and bottom lip. did he always look like this when he was with you? awe-struck and enraptured by your presence? 

he should feel pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were looking at him like you enjoyed this clandestine look on his face, a look that he reserved only for you. he couldn’t feel pathetic when you were looking at him in the same way. a secret language between the two of you, that nobody else in the world could even begin to understand.

the countdown on the screen started and luke was pulled from his thoughts quickly when you pressed your cheek against his, grinning as the timer flashed across the screen. he let himself smile, teeth on full display before the flash went off. the second countdown began and luke watched you fumble around to pick the next pose. you settled on a silly pose, sticking your tongue out as you held up the ‘rock and roll’ sign with your hand. he followed your lead, letting a snicker leave his lips at how fitting the pose was. 

the final photo was uncoordinated. luke wasn’t ready for the flash to go off. you placed your hand on his shoulder, craning your neck to look up at him. if he leaned down an inch or two, his lips would touch yours. the realization had the wires in his brain crossed. when the machine took the picture, luke was staring lovingly into your eyes, a look of indecision on his face. his lips were curled into a bashful smile, the tip of his nose touching yours. 

“five star,” luke breathed out, his arm snaking around your waist. your leg was now placed on top of his own. 

you gulped, nudging his nose with yours, “luke…” 

he’d never heard his name leave your lips before other than when you were mocking the gossips you heard about him. he’d never heard your real voice call him by his name. now that he has, he was addicted to the sound of it. he never liked his name that much, but somehow, when you said it, it sounded like poetry. he never thought a single syllable could sound so beautiful, have his knees buckling at the utterance of it. but with you, he supposed there was always a first for everything. 

when the bright red words stating “your photos are ready!” illuminated the inside of the photobooth, the two of you jumped apart from each other, blushing wildly. luke took a moment for himself inside the photobooth, rubbing his face with his palms, as you walked out to retrieve the pictures. luke followed you after taking a few deep breaths. 

he saw you leaning against the wall, the two strips of pictures in your hand. you had a goofy grin on your face, admiring them. luke sauntered next to you, taking a look at the photos. 

he accepted the strip of photos you handed him, “we probably should’ve discussed our poses beforehand.” 

“i dunno,” you were still staring at the pictures, biting your bottom lip. “i like ‘em.”

luke hummed, taking out his wallet. he folded the strip in threes, slotting the last photo in the clear compartment of his wallet. it looked perfect against the black leather, like it was the last thing needed to make his wallet look complete. he slipped it back in his back pocket, taking yours out to return to you. 

“smoke shop?” he asked. 

“please,” you nodded, beginning to walk out of the arcade. you waved goodbye to chiron who moved onto doing the daily crossword. “bye chiron! great to meet you!” 

he bid the two of you goodbye, a knowing gaze on his face. you were already out the door when he sent luke a wink that had him shaking his head, face turning red at the man’s antics. luke shut the door behind him, ushering you over to the sidewalk towards the smoke shop, “i’m out of cigs too, so this is actually perfect timing.” 

you waited outside the smoke shop, sitting on the curb. luke had a fake id (for research purposes, of course. he was just curious to see what the kentucky ids looked like.) so he bought your vape and his cigarettes. when he emerged, he joined you on the curb, pulling out his phone to call an uber back to camp. 

the sun was long gone and he could hear the owls hooting in the distance. it was not a good idea to walk back to camp, even if it wasn’t even a mile away. he watched you unwrap your vape, taking a small hit from it. he lit his cigarette with the lighter he carried with him and smoked with you in silence. 

“uber is gonna take twenty minutes,” he said, placing his phone between the two of you, face up. “i’m guessing there’s not many people around here.” 

you glanced at his phone, giggling at his lockscreen. it was a picture of the entire band, wearing matching novelty sunglasses taken at a .5 angle. they looked ridiculously like the guys you’ve grown to adore. “i like your lockscreen.” 

luke tapped his phone to wake it up. he let out a laugh, “mom took it when we played vegas for the first time. we were too young to go out and we were too afraid to use our fakes so we went to m&m world and got wired on sugar.” 

“you guys are really close, huh?” 

“got to be,” luke shrugged, “we’re together 24/7, but even before that… these guys are my brothers. love ‘em, even when they’re a pain in my ass. what’s your lockscreen?” 

you pulled out your phone, showing him the picture of you, clarisse, and silena flipping off the camera. it was taken during one of your (failed) attempts at studying at the library. you were all in sweatpants and large hoodies with the stress of midterms evident on your faces. “that’s silena, my other best friend from unc. her boyfriend, charlie, took this picture because he said we looked absolutely miserable. and we do, but it makes me happy looking back at it. we were struggling together and we somehow made it out together.” 

“i do not miss school at all,” luke blew out the smoke in his mouth, “i was a shit student.” 

“but now look at you,” you teased, “mr. rockstar.” 

“yeah, yeah,” luke copied your voice, “can’t complain.” 

you hummed, tucking your vape in the pocket of luke’s hoodie, “you can, especially with me. i’m the number one hater, so i enjoy complaining quite a bit.” 

“oh, i know.” 

you smacked his arm, rolling your eyes as he stumbled in his seat, laughing. you cleared your throat, voice turning serious, “seriously. i owe you for today, so complain to me all you want.” 

“you don’t owe me shit, five star,” luke put out his cigarette, standing up as his phone alerted him that the uber was coming soon. he held out his hand to help you up. “but i will take you up on that offer. of course, i can only do that if you don’t ignore me for weeks again.” 

you slapped his hand away, shaking your head, smiling, “shut the fuck up.” 

luke flagged down the uber, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you into the backseat. you entered, making polite conversations with the lady in the driver’s seat. 

“for chase?” 

luke nodded, “yup, thanks so much.” 

as the car drove off in the direction of camp, you turned to luke, mouthing, “chase?” 

he took out his wallet and handed you his fake id: chase reed, brown eyes, brown hair, 5’11. 

luke safely tucked the id back in its slot when you tossed it back at him, giggling at his alter-ego. he didn’t say anything when you moved closer to him, sitting in the middle seat, and held his hand the rest of the way back to camp.

[zwiebelii]

All right the weather was really good today so I went on a 2 hour walk + got an email from boss, saying that another department may have a vacancy I could fill

Hhhnnnggggghghhhh boss told me they're not renewing my contract at work

[erisenyo]

“Oh fuck oh FUCK” + Zukka please!

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (And this one too lol)

Zuko isn’t sure what posses him to actually say yes when the last hotel calls back to regretfully confirm that there will be no vacancies tonight and the cute mechanic lets up the truly over-the-top flirting to half-shyly offer Zuko a place to stay that night—

“Well, not my house,” Sokka—not Hakoda, going by the wince when Zuko had called him that, even though that’s what’s embroidered over his pocket—says, tugging on his wolf tail, “It’s my dad’s house. But he’s away!” Sokka says, excited and quickly tacking on when he seems to hear himself, “He’s helping out my Gran Gran! So I’m house-sitting! And keeping this place going—”

He waves a hand around the auto shop, making Zuko intensely curious about what Sokka does if not this all the time. He looks good in those overalls...

Not that Zuko has the chance to ask.

“—and so don’t worry, there’s plenty of space. I’m not suggesting you stay in my room—or, well, actually it is my room, but from when I was a kid, not you know, my room. I don’t live there anymore—”

Zuko wonders where he does live, if it’s close to the band’s recording studio, or any of their homes, and Ty Lee is always renting apartments all over the place maybe Zuko could—

“—but it’s still a totally good room still, like quiet but not creepily so, you know? And you can stay there. Or not! Absolutely no pressure, like obviously if you want to keep calling hotels or I mean I guess we could make up the couch in the office, though I wouldn’t recommend it," Sokka adds, frowning at the couch in question. "You end up with this really weird crick in your—”

“Yes,” Zuko interrupts, "Yes, a place to say would be great," he says, putting Sokka out of his misery. Even though he’s been enjoying the rambling train of Sokka’s thoughts all day, and he really shouldn’t impose, and Zuko might feel comfortable after so many hours of Sokka trying to figure out Zuko’s car but he doesn’t actually know the guy, and—

Sokka breaks into a grin, wide and pleased and clearly delighted and Zuko’s stomach flips the way it’s been doing all day and right. Right. That. That’s why Zuko said yes, even though he knows it’s stupid, even though it would be easier to just ask for the guy’s number even if as a rule Zuko doesn’t give out his own. Even though Mai would take one look at Sokka and give Zuko one of those knowing looks of hers and he hates being so predictable but shit, this guy is such his type.

Which means he’s not disappointed when Sokka says, “Awesome, dude! We can grab burritos on the way back!”

Dude.

And burritos.

But Zuko’s not disappointed, he’s not. He’s…relieved. To have a place to stay tonight that’s not a dubious-looking couch, or the back of his own barely-fits-two-people car. And to not be recognized—not that he ever is—because the last thing he needs on top of his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, meaning he’s absolutely going to miss his flight—shit, Uncle is going to be so disappointed…—is to be dealing with fans.

Pestering him for info about the rest of the Dangerous Ladies, or trying to sniff out rumors about the relationships they’re all convinced are happening within the band, or hating him for breaking Mai’s heart as if it wasn’t mutual and years ago anyway. and they’re still in the band so clearly it’s fine, Mai didn’t even write that song, and—

And it’s fine. Zuko doesn’t even know what he was worried about in the first place. For someone with a massive facial scar, he's proven shockingly unrecognizable without a flaming guitar in his hands. Which is fine. Exactly how he likes it.

So what if he almost never gets his own posters of magazine covers? So what if he's tucked off to the side or in the back of all the official merch and the band has a running collection of all the albums and magazine covers and t-shirts that inexplicably end up with a price sticker over his and only his face?

It’s better than getting mobbed every time he leaves the house like Azula and getting pelted with rumors like Ty Lee and having his every expression scrutinized like Mai. It's better than having every outfit analyzed and every tilt of his head breathlessly redescribed and every photo and appearance and sighting on the street turned into screenshots and phone backgrounds and gif sets and spank bank material, better than everyone he meets tripping to fall into his bed and—

Really. It’s better.

“Here it is, the humble abode!” Sokka gives Zuko an uncertain flash of a smile as holds open the door, like he thinks someone who drives a Porsche so tricked out Sokka had had to psych himself up to actually touch it is going to judge a well-loved ranch house, which…well. Maybe isn’t such a bad assumption.

Zuko hastily makes sure his expression is set into something attentive and interested, his June is talking face, as Azula calls it.

“You’ve got your kitchen here,” Sokka says, flicking on a light to show the worn, comfortable-looking space. “Glasses are over the sink, snacks are in the fridge and in the tall cabinet if you need anything. There’s some leftovers in the freezer you can reheat, too, if you want. Oven, microwave, all the good stuff, you just, you know. Hit the buttons, and—”

And Sokka is clearly back to nervous rambling, because Zuko doesn’t think he’s going to need to eat for the rest of the week after finishing that burrito. A fucking burrito. Ugh, if there’s ever a less sexy food, and then to eat so much of it nervously pacing Sokka that Zuko actually contemplated whether he could subtly unbutton his jeans in the car…

“…and the bedrooms are this way, and the bathroom—it’s shared, sorry,” Sokka adds, glancing back to give Zuko an apologetic look. Zuko hastily jerks his eyes up off Sokka’s ass. “Probably not what you’re used to, I know. But it’s just you and me, so it won’t be too bad!”

“It’s perfect,” Zuko says, trying for a smile and blinking when Sokka just coughs, a blush staining his cheeks as he quickly gets back to his tour.

“Extra blankets and stuff are here,” Sokka says, rapping on a closed door. “Towels, pillows, the works. There should be some extra shampoo and soap and stuff in there too, if you need it.”

“Sounds like you have everything covered,” Zuko says, hearing the awkward edge of his words but still trying to reach for some of the joking, playful easiness of earlier today. “Quite the full-service auto shop you’re running.”

“Uh…yeah.” Sokka freezes a little, eyes wide, which…great. Zuko isn’t surprised he missed the mark, but still. He thought he’s at least better these days than when Azula firmly told him he was no longer allowed to speak in interviews until he could be sure he wasn’t going to end up in another bloopers reel.

“Anyway!” Sokka finally says, shaking himself, his voice coming out suddenly squeaky, which— “Here’s your room, have a good night, make yourself comfy I’ll seeyoutomorrow!”

Zuko blinks again, nonplussed. Did Sokka just...run away? In his own home?

"That's that then," Zuko sighs ruefully—the flirting had been so outrageous that Zuko couldn’t quite believe it was actually real, so—giving the closed door Sokka had disappeared behind one last look before slipping into his room.

Which is very much a teenager’s room, holy—Zuko nearly laughs as he realizes why Sokka was so quick to make that clear. And a well-lived in one, at that, LEGOs on the shelves and cheap trophies for science fairs lined up across the dresser, half-faded posters and clipped-out pictures tacked over the walls and old art supplies still scattered over the desk.

It's cluttered and eclectic and...cute. Cute in the same way Sokka is cute, and he’d probably hate being called that which just makes Zuko want to do it even more, Zuko’s lips curled again into the little smile he feels like he's been wearing all day as he sprawls back on the neatly-made twin bed and immediately makes eye contact with himself.

On the ceiling.

Shirtless.

Life-sized.

Zuko’s mind immediately supplies the details—that Rolling Stones cover shoot for their third album, right before Zuko had turned twenty, when he was still somehow managing to keep up his martial arts training because who needed sleep, definitely not him. He and Ty Lee had been goofing off while Mai and Azula got their makeup finished, flexing their muscles and trying to out-flexible each other and the photographer had loved it and had them run with it, who could pose the most creatively with the most outrageously flexed muscles and —

Zuko slowly closes his mouth and rapidly reconsiders that whole ‘not recognized’ thing...

--

Sokka is giving his teeth the most thorough, most frustrated brush of his life—ugh, burritos. Why did he suggest burritos—when he nearly chokes on his toothpaste as he suddenly realizes that he just put Zuko Hua in his— “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Oh…fuck.

Katara is never going to let him live this down.

He is so, so fucked.

[otomiyaa]

Me thinking about tickling when I shouldn't think about tickling

Seeing the letters 'TK' whether it's short for someone's name, letters on a car license plate or somewhere else.

The words ticking, tricking, trickling, and any others looking like tickling.

Also the words: giggling, wiggling, squirming, scribbling, and probably a lot more than that.

Seeing M/F or F/M on a job vacancy.

When a person wiggles their fingers. Why do people do that if it's not in a tickle context.

Anytime the T-word is used, even when it doesn't really mean tickling in the context!

In movies/TV shows anytime a character is pinned down or tied up. Especially when their arms are above their head, like how can people not think of tickling in that scenario hahaha.

Seeing the name Lee, either as first or last name, which happens a lot actually.

The brand Lee on T-shirts etc. why do I see this so much (I own a shirt but I mean besides that).

When I see someone petting a cat or dog by scratching their tummy, or wiggling their fingers in a specific way when petting their head.

Feathers: seeing feathers, seeing the word, the pattern on clothing or a print, anything related to feathers = tickle thoughts.

Seeing two people playfully wrestling with each other. I can only translate it into a tickle fight in my head haha.

Massages, smh especially when it's a foot massage.

A person stretching their arms, either to stretch out or just grab something.

[lovelybucky1]

Crane Motel

Kinktober Day 12- Somnophilia

warnings: DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: AFAB!reader, Psycho AU, non-con, somnophilia, struggle fuck, groping, incel!jonathan, oral sex (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ Minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

The sky is pitch black and the heavy rain makes it difficult to see even ten feet in front of your car. You can't continue driving in these conditions, so you take the nearest exit in hopes of finding a place to spend the night or at least a place to pull over.

You drove about five minutes into the town off the highway until you came across a building. Crane Motel the neon sign read. Vacancies. It doesn’t have to be nice, it just has to be dry.

You pull into the lot, gravel crunching under your tires. It’s hard to see the parking spots, but no one else is here and you doubt they’ll come at this hour. You collect your items and make a dash for the porch of the office, locking your car with the remote once you’re away from the rain.

You open the door to the office and you’re met with the warm light from a lamp and an empty desk.

“Hello?” you say. No answer. “Hello?” Still no answer. You notice a bell on the desk so you try your luck and hit the bell. The metallic ring fills the office and from the closed door behind the desk, you hear a thump.

The door swings open and a young man in a light blue button down shirt that hangs off him and khakis appears.

“Hi,” he smiles. “Welcome to the Crane Motel.”

“Hello,” you smile politely. “I’d like a room please.”

“Of course,” he says, taking out the guest book and opening it to today’s date. As he flips through the pages you take note that most of them are blank, and the ones that are written on only have one or two names. “We don’t get many visitors up here,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Well, I’m only here for the night. The weather’s too bad out there to keep driving.”

The man nods in understanding. “I’m Jonathan, by the way,” he says, extending his hand to you.

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jonathan.”

“Likewise. I run this motel. My mother owns it, but she’s too sick to take care of things around here so I’m in charge of it.”

You nod along as you sign your name in the guest book. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Has been all my life. My dad died before I was born so it’s just been her and I.”

You find it a bit odd that he’s sharing so much of his life with a stranger, but you figure he doesn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be. Can’t lose what you’ve never had,” he says with a smile.

Jonathan tilts his head to look down at the guest book and reads off your name. “That’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“How are you gonna be paying?” he asks.

“Cash,” you say, taking out your wallet.

He furrows his brows. “Cash? You’re not on the run, are you?” You look up at him with a confused expression, but when his face splits into a smile you catch on that he’s joking. “I’m kidding. People usually use cash if they’re on the run or having an affair, but you’re here alone, right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Alright, no reason to be suspicious of you then. That’ll be $30.”

“Only 30?”

“We’re not in demand enough to charge anymore that,” he chuckles. “Besides, you seem nice and you’re just looking for a place to stay.”

“Well, thank you, Jonathan.”

He takes your cash and counts it out, confirming you gave him the right amount. He then unlocks the cash drawer and puts the bills in their appropriate slots.

“Alright, I’m gonna put you in Cabin 1. It’s closest to the office in case you need anything tonight,” he says as he takes the key labeled 1 off of the hook screwed into the wall.

He hands you the key but before you could turn to leave, he catches your elbow.

“I was making dinner for my mother and I but I accidentally made too much. Would you like to join us?” he offers.

“Oh, thank you for the offer but I’m super exhausted from driving all this way. I’m just going to head to bed,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, letting you go of your arm. “You never said where you’re from.”

“Um, about a two hours south from here.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing all the way up here?”

You sigh quietly, growing tired of his questions. “I’m going on a trip with some friends.”

“Sounds fun,” he says.

You nod with a close lipped smile. “Well, have a good night.”

“You too,” he says.

You turn and exit the office, shutting the door behind you. You run to your car and grab your bags as quickly as you can to avoid getting soaked, then take cover again under the roof. You walk across the wooden porch to the door labeled 1 that is connected to the office. You unlock the door and walk into the room, taking in the surroundings.

The room is small but it has a bed and a bathroom, so it will suffice. You drop your bags at the end of the bed and open your suitcase, digging through it for pajamas and toiletries.

You change into your t-shirt and shorts, then disappear into the bathroom to wash up. Unbeknownst to you, the kind man you met at the desk is not what he seems.

He put you in the first cabin not so it would be easier to attend to your needs, but because behind a picture frame in the office is a hole that he can look through to see the bed.

Jonathan was infatuated with you the moment he laid eyes on you. He doesn't interact with many people other than his mother, especially not someone so beautiful and interesting as you. He knew he couldn't let this opportunity slip away. He had to have you before you left in the morning.

He waited for you to return from the bathroom and when he heard a thumb through the thin walls, he peered back through the hole. Seeing you undress was exhilarating. Your body is gorgeous, exactly what he likes. It's almost like the universe sent you to him for a reason.

As kind as you are, Jonathan knows you would never agree to a night with him if he were to ask. That's why he's going to wait until you're asleep to make a move.

Apparently you're less exhausted than you let on, because instead of going right to sleep like you said you would, you stay up for another hour watching TV.

Once you finally turned off the TV and lights, Jonathan waited fifteen minutes for you to fall asleep before sneaking into your room. He unlocks the door quietly and turns the handle before opening it so the knob doesn't click.

He's used to seeing in the dark, so he has no trouble making his way over to the bed. The faint light from the neon sign outside illuminates your face, making you look angelic.

Jonathan gently untucks the covers from your arm and pulls them down, revealing your body. He sighs in delight as he trails his fingertips gently down your arm, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin.

Luckily you're laying on your back so he has easy access to everything he wants to see. He pushes your shirt up over your breasts, revealing even more soft skin and peaked nipples that catch the light from the window. Jonathan brushes the pad of his thumb over them gently, curious as to what they feel like.

Getting braver, he palms your breasts and squeezes them. He's seen plenty of breasts before online, but he's never even been this close to a pair in real life. He is mesmerized by how the flesh jiggles.

He has been hard in his slacks sine you first came to the desk, but now that he is touching you, he is growing increasingly needy. He undoes the fly of his pants and lets his cock hang out from the zipper. Even having it out in your presence made him ache with pleasure.

Jonathan then turned his attention to your bottoms. He slips his fingers under the waist band and gently pushes them down as best he can. They get caught under your as, but he can pull them down enough to get a glimpse of your pussy.

His hands shake as he gently caresses your mound, surprised that you're even softer here. He lets his finger dip between your folds, feeling your wetness. Jonathan then pulls his hand back and holds it up to his face to take a deep breath of your scent. It's delicious, and he can't help but taste it off his finger.

He reaches under your shorts again, exploring your pussy and teasing your entrance while his other hand jerks his cock. He gets a bit too carried away, because his unpracticed hands must have poked you the wrong way and you stir.

Jonathan yanks his hand back and waits to see if you'll wake up. You remain asleep, but you roll onto your side, turning your back to him. He is a bit disappointed at first, but then he gets another idea. He pulls your shorts the rest of the way down and lets them bunch at your knees.

He gently spreads your ass cheeks to look at your holes. He has to stifle a groan when he sees the glistening of your pussy. Jonathan leans down to lick you from behind. At this angle, only the tip of his tongue makes contact with your folds, but it's enough to get a taste right from the source.

He moves his tongue back and forth as much as he can, imagining that he's doing this for your pleasure and not his own perverted desires. Between his legs, his cock his painfully hard and leaking onto the shitty carpet.

Feeling bold since he's done all of this to you and you haven't woken up yet, he decides to go a little further. He eases you onto your stomach and gently lifts your legs so he can slot himself between them. He slowly eases onto the mattress and spreads your folds so he can find your entrance.

He lines his cock up and begins to push in. It's a little difficult when the only experience he's ever had has been with his hand. He manages to get the tip in when he feels your body jolt. You make something of a whine and Jonathan's heart begins racing.

You try to adjust your position, still mostly asleep, but when you find yourself being restrained, you start to thrash. You kick your legs and claw at the sheets, all while yelling out.

"Get the fuck off me!" you cry, shaking your body like you're a mechanical bull trying to throw him off.

Jonathan doesn't want to stop. He's made it this far already. He presses down on your shoulder blades to keep you from squirming and your arms are pinned under your chest so you can't try to hit him.

You're still screaming, but now it's broken up by heavy sobs and pleas. You can scream as loud as you want but the only person around to hear you is the one making you scream.

Jonathan continues to push his cock into you, though he faces more resistance now that you're awake. You're so much tighter when you're scared, he notes.

"Don't hurt me, please. I-I have a family, please stop," you beg.

Jonathan frowns. "I'm not hurting you," he says.

How could he be hurting you? Sex feels good, and women love to have sex. That's what he's seen in all those videos. They love it so much they'll even beg for it.

Jonathan ruts into you and after a while, you lose the will to scream for help. All you can do is lay there and sob while he violates you. Jonathan, however, is enjoying himself very much. The tight, wet heat of your pussy around him is like nothing else he's ever experienced. It's addictive, and though he feels himself getting close, he doesn't want this to end.

Jonathan tries to stave off his orgasm but he's too worked up. He bucks his hips quickly, jackhammering you until he cums. He's fucking you like a fleshlight, using you as a place to stick his dick weather you're willing or not.

He buries himself deep inside you when he cums, emptying his overfilled balls into you. Jonathan is moaning and whimpering above you, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. He lays himself over your back and tucks his chin over your shoulder.

His face is far too close to yours and you scream again, hoping it will make him leave you alone. With a satisfied sigh, he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He bends down to look at his cum leaking out of your pussy, just like he sees in all the videos he watches.

He grabs your covers and pulls them back up over you, tucking you in. You lay facing away from him, body shaking with silent sobs.

"I'll see you in the morning for breakfast," Jonathan says before exiting your room and heading back to the office.

Tonight he'll sleep on the sofa in the parlor in case you need anything. And he'll wake up extra early to watch you get dressed in the morning.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

New bucktommy oneshot just landed!

I'll Crawl Home To Him

This was supposed to be a short drabble of an alternate meeting but it quickly ran away from me, lol.

Read on ao3 or below.

Enjoy!

**********

Word: 12,478

Rated: E

Summary:

Buck, visiting his parents with his sister and her family, end up leaving the house in a snowstorm after his parents prove yet again that they were incapable of change.

After finding himself at a local motel to get out of the storm, he unexpectedly finds himself spending the whole evening with the owner, who by an incredible coincidence used to work at the 118.

Before the night is over Buck’s entire world has been flipped upside down. But leaving to go back home was not going to be easy

**********

Buck knew it was a stupid idea to walk out of the house when a snow storm was just beginning but he was just so mad! Mad at his parents for being typically them, mad at his sister for convincing him to go there in the first place, but most of all he was mad at himself for, yet again, for believing that they had changed.

It had taken a while and a boat load of therapy—both separately and together—after the heart wrenching revelation of Buck having had an older brother that had died and everybody had kept it quiet like a dirty secret, for Buck to trust that they truly regretted their mistakes and wanted to make things right. The thing is, Buck knew that they would never have the kind of relationship he had wished that they could have had when he was growing up—he knew that that ship had sailed. He had accepted that at best they could have the kind of relationship where they could stand to be in the same room without fighting and maybe come to a mutual respect for one another.

But just as he had started to believe that they really did mean it when they said they wanted to change and build a relationship with their son, they show their true—and old—colours.

He’d had fights with his parents before; more than he could count, but this one, despite it being no different than other fights they’d had—his parents critiquing his life choices like they had done a thousand times before—hit different this time.

Maybe because it had been a while since they’d done it. Maybe because he’d believed they’d changed. Maybe because Maddie and Chim and Jee-Yun were there too or maybe because it was winter in Pennsylvania and he fucking hated the cold!

But it did hit different. He could almost hear the snap in his heart as his mother spat her usual vitriol at the son who could never do right.

His eyes were streaming as he trudged along the sidewalk-less road—a mixture of emotion and the ice-cold wind blowing into his face. He didn’t have a destination in mind when he left the house—he just knew he needed to get out. Get away.

He had no idea how long he had been walking—he’d turned off his phone after the 15th call from Maddie he’d ignored, and he hadn’t put his watch back on after shower he’d had just before the fight with his parents. He’s was only wearing sweats, a T-shirt and hoodie when he left the house—stopping only to put on his sneakers—and the snow that was now coming down heavily had quickly soaked his clothes through.

He knew he’d walked roughly 6 miles when he rounded a bend in the road and the Mountain Laurel motel came into view. He could have honestly walked another 20 miles, fuelled entirely by the anger he felt, but he was soaking wet and the last vestige of logical thinking left in his head told him it was probably a good idea to stop.

The sign high above flashed ‘vacancies, in big neon purple letters in front of the parking lot at the front of the motel that empty save for one truck parked by the entrance. He opened the creaking door to the foyer and stepped along the old, threadbare and ugly brown carpet, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving a wet trail in his wake.

The place smelt as though someone had emptied an empire can of pine scented air freshener and it made Bucks throat dry breathing it in. He approached the high mahogany counter and palmed at the scuffed bell and waited.

“One second!” Came a deep voice from the back room. A few seconds later the door at the back opened and a tall, well built man appeared wiping his mouth with a napkin. Buck immediately noticed the man’s striking blue eyes as he looked across at him.

“Sorry, was eating dinner.” He said. “Welcome to the Mountain Laurel. You’re looking for a room?”

“Uh, yeah. Please.” Buck answered wrapping his arms around himself in a pointless attempt to stop himself from shivering.

“Hmm, that might be difficult—we’re very busy tonight.” The man answered.

“Oh. Uh..” He truly couldn’t take anymore and was on the verge of more tears. The man noticed and his expression immediately changed.

“That was a joke.” He corrected. “Sorry, I’ve always been told I have a bad sense of humour. We’re actually completely empty tonight—you’re our only guest so if you want a room you have your pick of any.” He smiled warmly and deep lines appeared around his eyes. Buck let out a sigh of relief.

“Honestly, any room is fine.” He said sighing. The man typed on the computer that looked like it was made before he Buck was born, then unhooked a key from the hooks on the wall behind him.

“Room number two it is.” He said. “Name?”

“Evan Buckley.”

“How long are you staying, Evan?”

“Uh..” Buck hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t thought he’d be staying in a motel at all. “I..”

The man seemed to sense that Buck was struggling and offered a helping hand. “I’ll put you down for one night and if you want to extend your stay just let me know.”

“Thanks, th-that would be, uh.. yeah.”

“Good. Are you paying by cash or card?”

“Card.” He said opening his wallet. The man gave him the price and completed the transaction before handing Buck his card back and then a room key.

“Second room on the left as you go outside. You need any help with bags?”

“No, I.. I didn’t come with any.” Buck admitted.

“Oh.” The man said with surprise. “Well, if you need anything I’ll be here.” He smiled again and Buck tried to reciprocate but didn’t have the energy for anything other than a half smile.

The room was as basic as he’d expected for a cheap Pennsylvania motel. A double bed, with surprisingly white linen for this type of establishment, on one side of the room, with a cheap wooden nightstand on either side of it, each with a lamp. Opposite the bed was a mid sized dresser with a TV from the dark ages sat atop.

Usually the first thing he’d check was the state of the bathroom but he simply didn’t have the energy to do so. Instead he slumped onto the edge of bed and put his head in his hands.

A knock at the door startled him. He opened it to find the man from the reception standing there.

“Uh, hey..”

“Tommy.” The man introduced.

“Tommy, right. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I, uh, thought you could use these.” He held out a small pile of clothes. Buck looked at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You’re clearly soaked to the bone and you said you didn’t have any bags with you. They’re nothing special—just some old sweats, a T-shirt and hoodie. No underwear though—that would be weird.” He chuckled.

Buck felt kind of pathetic. This guy—Tommy—pitied him. Why else would he offer his clothes to a stranger? He was a grown man for god sake and here he was contemplating accepting clothes from a stranger and all because he didn’t want to see his parents.

“If you don’t need them..” Tommy began to say and Buck almost snatched the clothes out of his hand. Regardless of how he was feeling about it, he couldn’t deny that he was soaking wet and freezing cold, and a hot shower and fresh clothes—even those belonging to a stranger—did sound nice.

“No! I mean.. thank you that’s.. that would be helpful.” Tommy handed them over. “Thanks, To-Tommy.”

“You’re welcome, Evan. And if want a beer or something to eat I’ll be in the entertainment centre.”

Buck raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You have an entertainment centre?”

“We have uncomfortable chairs, a flat screen and beer fridge if that counts?”

Buck couldn’t help let out a huffed laugh. “Uh, I don’t know—I’m pretty exhausted.” He told Tommy honestly.

“Fair enough. Well, if you change your mind.” Tommy shot him a finger gun and began to turn away.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Evan.”

Buck considered correcting Tommy and telling him he’d rather go by Buck, but he really didn’t care all that much. He’d spent the last 3 days continuously correcting his parents which didn’t make a damn difference—“We chose your name so we have the right to use it.”—his mother had said, and quite frankly he was tired of correcting.

He finally decided to inspect the bathroom and was impressed to find it was actually clean—no soap scum on the mirror or around the sink, no mildew in the bathtub or white calcium build up on the shower. And the toilet actually looked like it had been cleaned!

He turned on the shower above the bath tub, removed his wet clothes and got in under the hot water, hoping the heat would wash away his feelings.

He wasn’t that lucky.

**

He inspected himself in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He almost laughed at how ridiculous he looked in Tommys clothes. The shirt and hoodie were fine, if a little bigger on him than he would usually prefer. But the sweatpants were loose on the ass, tight on the thighs and short on the leg.

They smelled really good he had noticed—a warm, spiced scent. He toyed with the idea of asking Tommy what detergent he used but that would probably be weird, right? Although no weirder than giving a stranger your clothes he supposed.

He looked at his still turned off phone and contemplated turning it on to call Bobby as he would tell him it would be okay. But, quite frankly, he didn’t want that. At least not yet. He was righteously angry and didn’t need anybody telling him it’ll all be okay.

Instead, he turned it not, ignored all the messages that came in, shot a quick text to Maddie telling her he was okay and needed space, then shut it off again and left his room.

He walked into the ‘Entertainment centre’, which Tommy wasn’t kidding when he described it—a few tables with chairs, a flat screen tv on the back wall and a small counter which presumably had a beer fridge behind it. The door opened behind him and Tommy walked into the room.

“Evan. You changed your mind.” He said with a surprise. His eyes looked down Bucks body wearing his clothes and he raised an eyebrow when he saw the flash of ankle sticking out of the bottom of the sweatpants. Buck felt himself blush.

“Long legs.” He answered to an unasked question.

“I can see.” Tommy replied; the corner his mouth rising. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Uh, Yeah.” Tommy removed two bottles from the fridge behind the counter, opened them both and handed one to Buck. “Thanks.” Tommy leant on the counter as Buck stood looking at his surroundings. “So how long have you worked here?” Tommy laughed into his beer bottle. “What?”

“I own the place, kid.”

“Oh.”

“That surprise you?” He asked.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“You look like you.. I dunno.. like-like you’d do something more physical for a living.” He replied looking at Tommy’s arms. The plaid shirt he was wearing over a Henley wasn’t exactly hiding his large biceps. He wondered if they were bigger than his.

“You’re not exactly wrong—I’m actually a firefighter.“

“No way? I’m a firefighter too.” Buck excitedly said.

“Yeah? Here in Hershey?”

“Uh, no, thank god. L.A. The 118.”

Tommys mouth slackened and he stared at Buck in disbelief. “Nash still Captain?”

Now it was Bucks turn to be in a state of disbelief. “You know Bobby?”

Tommy chuckled. “He was my captain.” Buck put his beer down on the counter a little too hard and foam rushed out of the top of the bottle.

“Shit! Sorry!” He tried bent forward to catch some of it in his mouth and Tommy just looked at him wide-eyed before swallowing and grabbing some paper towels from under the counter.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” He lifted up the bottle and wiped the counter down.

“I can’t believe Bobby was your captain. When did you leave the 118?”

“I transferred out about 6 years ago—went to harbor.”

“Holy shit you’re Tommy!” Buck exclaimed after doing the math in his head.

“Usually.” He quipped.

“You helped us with that fire at Doheny Park.”

Tommy nodded remembering Howie’s call. “Well, it wasn’t just me, but yeah. How is Howie by the way? We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s good. He’s, uh, actually engaged to my sister, Maddie. Got a kid, too.”

“Wow! Good for him.”

“Yeah. He’s here, actually, with Maddie and my niece.” Buck told him. Tommy’s face changed to confusion.

“So why are you here and not with them?”

It was a valid question but Buck wasn’t really sure if he wanted to answer it. Truth be told he actually wanted to scream it all out; get all of the frustration and anger and resentment out of his system, but Tommy had already done enough for him by lending him his clothes—the last thing he needed was to hear about Bucks pathetic family problems.

“They’re, uh.. they’re with my parents.” He simply answered.

“And I’m guessing you don’t want to be?” Tommy gathered.

“Nope.” Buck said simply. Tommy correctly ascertained that he didn’t want to talk about it and changed the subject.

“So, what’s the 118 like these days?” He asked instead and Bucks face opened into a smile.

“It’s good. We’re a family. I couldn’t imagine being stationed anywhere else.”

“That’s good. I remember Captain Nash introducing family dinners.” Tommy said fondly remembering them.

Buck nodded as he sipped his beer. “He still does them. Actually, he’s been teaching me since I joined and recently he’s started letting me cook for everyone.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not as good as him, but the team seems to like it. So, was Bobby always your captain?”

Tommys shifted uncomfortably in his stance and sighed. “No. For most of the time I was there we had Gerrard at the helm.”

“Chim and Hen have talked about him. Bad guy, right?”

“That’s putting it mildly—he was a bigot. And I.. he did not make me a better person.”

Buck wanted to ask what he meant but wasn’t sure if he could. Tommy, however, surprised him.

“I wasn’t the kindest to Hen and Howie when they first joined the 118.” He admitted. “I never agreed with the things that Gerrard would say or how he treated them, but I was way deep in the closet back then and terrified of being found out and Gerard making me a target. That’s not an excuse, by the way—I was wrong in how I handle it; handled him, but like I said—he did not make me a better person.” He took a sip from his bottle then continued picking at the sticker on it.

Buck wasn’t sure how to respond to Tommy’s candour. He obviously felt bad—his body language and facial expressions gave that away as he was speaking.

“I mean, if it makes you feel better whenever Chim and Hen talk about you it’s always positive.”

“Hmm.” Tommy responded, neither negative nor positive.

“Were you, uh.. out at the 118? I mean when Bobby took over?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. I knew everyone else would probably be fine with it, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t until I moved to Harbor that I stopped lying about who I was.” Tommy walked out from the counter and gestured towards one of the tables and they both sat down.

“Is that why you transferred?”

“No, I missed flying. Used to do it in the army.”

“God you’re so fucking cool!” Buck exclaimed without thinking and immediately felt his face flush with embarrassment. He could have sworn, though, that he saw a subtle blush to Tommy’s cheeks too.

“You need to raise your bar, kid.”

“Come on—you’re a firefighter and a pilot!” Buck argued. Tommy held his eyes to him for a moment and smiled.

Buck felt a warmth run through him as he looked at Tommy. He wondered what it would have been like if he’d have joined the 118 and Tommy was still there. Not to mention It was one hell of a coincidence that the man who left the 118 and creating the space for him to join, happened to be running a hotel a few miles away from his parent’s house.

“It’s crazy isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You and me, here. I-I mean you leave the 118 so that I can join. 6 years later you’re running a motel in my home town.”

“It definitely is strange.” Tommy said.

“How come you’re here?”

“This placed used to belong to my dad.”

“Did he hand it down to you?”

Tommy almost choked on his beer. “God no! He be turning in his grave if he knew I owned the place.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he’d passed away.”

Tommy waved him away “Don’t be—he was a bastard. He was the reason I knew how to handle Gerrard. He actually left the place to my uncle in his will, but then he died a few months ago and it was passed on to me. I’m only keeping it open until I can find a buyer, then I’m going back to L.A.”

“Back to Harbor?”

“That’s the plan.” He finished the last of his beer. “You want another?”

“Sure.” Buck said finishing off the last of his. Tommy got them both a fresh bottle and sat back down.

“Thanks.”

Tommy looked at Buck with narrowed eyes for a moment before a wave of realisation came over him. “I just realised who you are.”

“The hottest firefighter in L.A?” Buck joked.

“That too.” Tommy said with a smirk and Buck found himself blushing again. Tommy noticed but said nothing of it.

“You’re the guy that got crushed by the engine.”

Bucks smile slowly fell. “Uh, yeah. That-that was me.” He looked down at his beer bottle.

“I’m sorry, Evan. We don’t have to talk about it.” Tommy said softly.

“No it’s.. it’s fine. It was just a hard time, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

“I thought my career was over. I got through all the surgeries and rehab, and just when I passed my recertification I threw a blood clot in my lung. Puked up blood all over Bobby and Athena’s patio.”

“Jesus, Evan.”

“Yeah. Then I was on blood thinners for a while and Bobby wouldn’t let me back on the team out of fear something would happen to me.”

“That makes sense.”

“I know that now, but back then? Man, I was so angry. And desperate. The 118 was, is, my life. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done that meant something and the idea of losing it?” He swallowed away the emotion rising in his throat. It was years since it happened but the memory of the fear and trauma of what he went through were a still a part of him. Likely would be forever.

“I’m ashamed to admit but I actually tried to sue the department. And Bobby.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Like I said I was just so angry. I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let me back in. Yeah I was on blood thinners but I was on them and survived a god damn tsunami. Saved some lives too.”

“You were in the tsunami?” Tommy asked.

“I was on the pier with my best friend’s kid when it hit.”

“Sounds like you need to be wrapped in bubble wrap.”

“I think that was Bobby’s thought, too. Anyway, eventually I came to my senses and dropped the lawsuit. And-and Bobby realised that he needed to trust that I was ready and let me back in.”

“What about the blood thinners? You still take them?”

“No.” He said “turns out it was the bolts on my leg causing them. Once they removed them I was back to normal.” He smiled.

“Here’s to that.” Tommy lifted up his beer and Buck clinked his bottle into Tommy’s. “Any other life threatening injuries on the job?”

“The emergency tracheotomy wasn’t on the job so that doesn’t count, but-“

“Hold up.” Tommy sat up in his seat “you had an emergency tracheotomy?”

Buck pulled down the neck of his, well, Tommy’s, T-shirt to show him the faded scar. “Yep. Worst first date ever.”

“It happened on a first date?!”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh at Tommy’s shock.

“She was the one who did it.”

“Holy shit, really?!”

“Yep. With a steak knife.” He added. Tommys eyes widened. “I feel like I should point out she was a 911 operator so not exactly a laymen. But she had someone one the phone talking her through it.”

“Jesus, Evan. Anything else?”

“I did get struck by lightning.”

Tommy choked on the sip of beer he was drinking and coughed.

“Are you okay?” Buck asked.

“Are you?!” Tommy threw back.

“Miraculously, yeah. Though technically I did die for over 3 minutes.” He said plainly.

“I think I’m might have to wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you here for safety.” Tommy said shaking us head.

“What, like your pet?” Tommys head quickly shot back to Buck. His head was tilted with a soft smirk on his face.

Buck didn’t know what he said that. Tommys pet? Really? jesus, Evan!

“You have any major injuries at work?” He quickly moving the conversation along.

“Just one.” He stood and lifted his shirt up to reveal a long scar—about 4 inches long—on the right side of his upper torso. “Factory explosion. Caught a big piece of shrapnel.”

Before Buck knew what he was doing his hand was reaching out and his fingertips were delicately tracing the scar. Tommy audibly inhaled a breath and goosebumps exploded on his skin. The sound of Tommy breathing in brought Buck back to reality.

“I’m-I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have.. that wasn’t.. sorry.” He quickly withdrew his hand and sat it in his lap. He suddenly couldn’t look Tommy in the eye. What the hell was that he just did?!

“It’s fine.” Tommy said lowering his shirt and sitting back down.

“So what happened with the tracheotomy first date? Did anything happen with them?”

“Yeah, I uh, actually lived with her for a while. Sorry of accidentally, really.”

“How do you accidentally live with someone?” Tommy asked, a curious look on his face. Buck chuckled.

“She was taking care of her mom at the time, Alzheimer’s, and after she died I wanted to better for her to help her through it. At some point I just sort never left.” He explained.

“But you broke up eventually?”

Buck sighed. “Yeah. She, uh, was having a hard time with her moms passing and decided to go travelling; have a “Eat, Pray, Love” experience, which, I didn’t know what that meant at the time—did you know it was a book? Apparently this lady wanted to find herself after getting divorced. Which I kind of get. Not-not the divorce part—the finding yourself part-” Buck stopped himself. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Ramble away, I don’t mind.” Tommy told him with an easy smile. It made Buck feel at ease. Plenty of people, mostly exes, had told him they didn’t mind him rambling but he knew they were just saying it to not hurt his feelings. But there was something about how Tommy was looking at him that told him he was being genuine.

“Anyway, long story short she never came back.” He sipped his beer. “Mmm, that’s not true—she did come back about a year and half later with a fiancé in tow.”

“Ouch.” Tommy said. Buck nodded in agreement.

“But I mean I get it now—she was an older woman and she’d lived so long being the safety net for other people and she’d lost herself along the way. I think being with me reminded her of being a little more care free, but it wasn’t sustainable. Least not for her.”

“How old was she?”

“45.”

“And you were?”

“Uh, 23.”

“So you like them older?” Tommy smirked.

Buck laughed. “Uh, not really. I mean I don’t really care about age, it’s more about competency for me. I like people who are good at what they do and can confidently do it.”

“I get that.” He said. They held eye contract for a moment and Buck realised he actually felt a little better than he had when he had walked in. There was something so easy about Tommy. He never would have shared what he had with anybody else he’d just met.

“What about you? You ever had your heart broken?” Buck asked.

“Once.” Tommy answered. “Guy I served with. For obvious reasons we kept it secret, but after we got discharged I thought that we could actually have something. Turned out he just saw me as a way to pass the time while on tour. He’s married to a woman now with a couple of kids.”

“I’m sorry, that’s.. that sucks.”

“It did for a while.” He confessed.

“You ever come close since?” Buck asked.

Tommy shook his head. “Not really. I’ve dated here and there but most guys that are attracted to me because of my physique and being a firefighter.”

“Yeah, it must be so hard being so hot.” Buck teased. Tommy laughed and nudged Bucks leg with his knee under the table then turned it back on Buck.

“But you think I’m hot?” Tommy looked at Buck and pursed his lips. Buck lost all moisture in his mouth and is heart thudded against his ribcage. It wasn’t.. it’s not like he didn’t know Tommy was.. Look, anybody with working eyes could see that he was gorgeous. He was tall, board and muscular and that cleft.. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t, kind of, sort of, maybe a little bit want to poke his pinky finger into it. Those eyes too—big and blue and surrounded by extraordinarily long eyelashes.

“You know you are.” He said back trying to sound confident. Tommy simply smirked again in response.

“Well, it would be nice to meet someone who was interested in getting to know me as a person.”

“Nah, I get it—people are impressed with the job but once they realise you’re an actual person with feelings they don’t stick around for long.” Buck commiserated with him.

“It’s why I don’t date people I meet on calls anymore.”

“Uh-huh.” Buck said into his bottle. “You know I once met an ex responding to a helicopter crash, which.. should have been the first clue.”

“Yeah it’s never works out the way you expect.” Tommy agreed.

“Learned that the third time around.” Buck laughed. “I met the last one at a living funeral—she was a death doula.”

“What the hell is a death doula?” Tommy asked.

“She helped people who were terminally ill accept that they were dying and supported them through it.” Buck explained.

“Oh, well that’s noble.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Until all she wanted to talk about was when I died from the lightning strike.” He said and Tommy scoffed.

Without warning everything went dark and silence surrounded them.

“Well that was creepy timing.”

“God damn electrics in this place!” Tommy complained with a sigh and turned on the flashlight on his phone. “I swear one tiny breeze and this whole place will fall down.”

“Can you fix it?” Buck asked.

“Ordinarily I would be able to get it going again, however.. the electrics are in a separate building out back and..” he pointed to the window behind Buck. He turned around to see the blizzard raging outside.

“Jesus! Yeah you can’t go out in that.”

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He took the key to his room and held it out to Buck. “You go to my room, and I’ll lock up the place and meet you there in a minute.”

Buck looked at him with a hint of surprise on his face. “Y-your room?”

“The heat in all the rooms runs on electric—my room is the only one that also has a fireplace. So unless you want to freeze to death it’s the best place to be to keep warm.”

“Ri-right. That makes sense.” Buck conceded.

“First room outside.”

“You have a flashlight?” Buck asked.

“Can’t you use the one on your phone?”

“No, it’s in my room. And turned off.” Tommy analysed Buck for a second before brushing it away. “Okay. Hold on here for a second.”

Buck heard him moving around in back room for a minute before walking back out with an open backpack in his hands. He opened the fridge behind the counter and he heard the clinking of bottles being shoved inside it.

“God that snow is really getting heavy.” Buck said looking out the light the glass door. There was at last 2 or 3 inches on the ground and there was no signs of it letting up.

“Yeah. You ready?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah.”

Tommy opened the door letting Buck out and quickly closed and locked it. They both raised their forearms to shield their faces from the snow as walked quickly to Tommys door 10 or so feet away.

“You got the key?”

“Shit. Right, yeah.” Buck took it from his pocket and unlocked the door and they entered the room with Tommy shutting and locking it behind them.

“Hold on one second..” he said putting his backpack down and unzipping it. He removed a large pillar candle and a lighter from the bag and lit it. The room was subtly illuminated in a warm glow. It wasn’t enough to really get a good look at the room, but from what Buck could see it Tommy was definitely a tidy, squared away person. The bed was made with the same white linens as his own, save for a fleeced blanket folded at the bottom of the bed. There was the same night stands and dresser that he had in his room, except a much bigger, and more modern TV.

Tommy removed a bunch more candles from the bag, lit them and dotted them around the room.

“I would have thought a firefighter would recognise a fire hazard when he saw one.” Buck teased as he watched Tommy the candles.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He said back with that smirk that Buck was beginning to find quite pleasant.

“You’ve put me in a really good blackmailing position, you know?” Buck replied.

“Is that so?” Tommy said with a casual smoothness to his voice that Buck didn’t know what to make of. He sounded flirtatious which—no, he wasn’t flirting, right? That—he wasn’t against being flirted with. He liked flirting and he couldn’t deny that it always felt nice. He’d had guys flirt with him before and it wasn’t as if he were ever offended by it—he had a healthy confidence in his looks and was never short of flirtatious attention when he was on the job and in his turnouts, from any gender. He appreciated it and saw it as a compliment when men flirted with him, but he was never really in to it.

But with Tommy.. Buck was sort of in awe of him—he was just so effortlessly cool. He made Buck feel like the cool kids made him feel when he was at school—wanting to do something stupid to impress him. That would explain the feeling in deep in his stomach that had been growing since they’d been hanging out—he was just impressed by the man.

“What is it you want in return for your silence? I don’t have a lot of money, but I do make a mean chilli. Maybe I can bride you with food.”

Buck couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t think even you could do that in a blackout.”

Tommy laughed. “Well, obviously not right now. I was thinking maybe in a day or 2 when the storms gone and obviously when we have power back. Unless you’re going back to L.A soon?”

He looked at Buck in a way that Buck thought might be hopeful.

“Uh.. I don’t actually know when I’m going back to L.A. We were supposed to stay for another few days but.. my parents..” He sighed.

“Not great?” Tommy asked. He took the backpack to the sofa underneath the curtained window and pulled out a beer each and sat down, handing a bottle to Buck.

“Thanks. Uh, not really. They.. I thought.. they promised me they had changed; that they wanted to change. But they’re just the same people who will always be disappointed in me.” He drank down a few gulps of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What made them disappointed?”

“This time? That I went back to work after the lightning strike. Apparently an act of God was just more proof of how dangerous my job is and that it it’s stupid to risk my life everyday. The funny thing is they lavish Chimney with praise for doing the exact same job because he’s doing it to provide for their daughter and granddaughter—I don’t have a partner or kid so I’m just being the same old reckless Evan.” He rolled his eyes.

Buck instinctively went to apologise for rambling but quickly realised it actually felt good to get it out.

“That sounds really tough.”

“You have no idea. It’s ironic—they were never around for me or Maddie growing up; never there to guide us or help us make the right choices in life, and then they have the nerve to criticise the choices we did make. I-I thought that after what happened a few years ago that things would actually change. Guess I was wrong again.”

“What happened a few years ago, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Buck sat back on the sofa and turned a little to face Tommy. “I found out I had an older brother, Daniel. He had Leukaemia. None of the family were a match for him and so..” he gestured to himself “..so they made one. Except, the cells didn’t take and, uh.. he died.”

“God, Evan I’m so sorry.” Tommy said “that must have been.. I don’t even know.”

“Yeah. After that my parents packed up and moved us away; made Maddie swear to keep Daniel a secret. She was 9 years old, Tommy. What kind of parents force a nine year old to keep that kind of secret? The only reason I found out was because my parents had brought my sister her baby box when she was pregnant with my niece—unsurprisingly they never made one for me—and I found a picture of Daniel in there. Maddie couldn’t keep the secret any more and told me about him.”

He wiped away the tear that had escaped his eye without permission. “Although it finally made me understand why my parents had been distant with me my whole life—I was the living, breathing reminder of the death of the son they actually wanted.” He sniffed and drank some more beer.

Tommy’s hand, which was rested on the back of the sofa, moved to the back of Bucks neck. It was a gentle act of comfort, one that Buck wasn’t expecting. He felt a warmth spread around his body at the touch. He looked at Tommy who was looking back at him with a sad expression. His eyes really were quite beautiful.

Buck looked back down at his beer bottle as Tommy returned his hand to the back of the sofa.

“Seems shitty parents are another thing we have in common, kid.” Tommy said.

“What were yours like?”

“You know how people say that someone might be the father they never had? Well Gerrard was like the father I already had. Actually, Gerrard was a walk in the park compared to Pops.”

“Yeah?

Tommy nodded. “Thomas Kinard Senior had a very.. traditional idea of what it meant to be a man. One that he wasn’t afraid to beat into me. And that was before he found it I was gay. I think he truly thought it could beat the homosexuality out of me.” He laughed but it didn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. God now I feel bad for complaining about my parents knowing you were beaten.”

Tommys hand went straight back to Bucks neck and he turned his body towards him more. “No, Evan—you have every right to feel how you feel about your parents. Your parents hurt you and that’s valid.”

Buck nodded, deciding not to argue. “What about your mom?”

“Mom was.. troubled. Part of me doesn’t blame her for staying with him—he beat her more than he beat me, but.. a part of me will always wonder how she could watch her husband beat her son and not step in, you know?”

“My sister was in an abusive marriage. She told me once that when you’re in it that you can’t believe that it’s happening. Maybe that’s why your mom stayed?” Buck offered. He wanted to offer more to comfort Tommy but he didn’t know what else to give him.

“I mean that makes sense. I’ll never know through.” He said and Buck looked at him confused. “She died about a year after my dad.”

Without thinking about it Buck reached out and put his hand on Tommy’s that was holding his beer. A fleeting look of surprise came over Tommy’s face before it softened and he placed his other hand over the top of Bucks.

“I don’t even know what to say other than I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to say anything, but I appreciate it, Evan.”

He’d barely known Tommy a couple of hours yet his heart hurt for him. He couldn’t help imagine him as a young kid on the receiving end of bruises instead of love.

He felt Tommys thumb brush along his hand and suddenly he became viscerally aware of his own pulse. Did it always throb this hard in his ears? Was it always this fast? And his lungs—why was he having to concentrate on breathing? Surely that’s supposed to be an automatic bodily function.

A strong gust of wind rattled the old windows surprising them both. They separated their hands and Buck felt a surprising pang of disappointment.

���Th-that the bathroom?” He pointed to the door on the other side of the bed.

“Uh, Yeah.”

Buck put his bottle down on the small coffee table in front of them and picked up one the candles to light his way. He locked the door behind him and leant against door.

This couldn’t be happening. Well, it could—it was a totally normal thing, but it had never happened to Buck before. Sure he’d checked out a hot guys ass here or there but this? Tommy? This felt like the beginnings of an actual crush and not just admiring someone’s attractive features. The ease with which he could talk about some of the worst things that he’d been through with him, the comfort he’d felt with Tommys hand in his skin, and the feeling of something being missing when Tommys hand left his were not things he’d expected.

After peeing and washing his hands he leant against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He’d half expected to see a change to his own reflection and was somehow both disappointed and relieved to see the same old face staring back at him.

He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door to see Tommy lighting the fire, and the sound of soft music playing from Tommys phone on the coffee table.

“That Sinatra?” He asked.

“Yeah. I felt like putting on some music and he’s the only artist I have on my phone, currently.”

“You do know you can download more?” Buck said with soft sarcasm.

“Yes, Einstein. I just.. haven’t yet.” Tommy said back.

“Why Sinatra? You don’t strike me as a fan”

“No? What do I strike you as a fan of?”

“Dad rock.” Buck replied and that caused Tommy to bark out a laugh.

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with a little soft rock, thank you. But Sinatra reminds me of my aunt. When I was a kid she used to take me to this little community hall with her friends where they would dance. Fell a little in love with Sinatra, Dean Martin and that kinda stuff.”

Buck actually found that unbelievably endearing. “So you’re a dancer, huh?”

“I’m not an expert by any means but I know my way around a ballroom.”

“That’s more than I can do. Last time I danced—not including jumping around like an idiot in a club—was senior prom. And that only involved swaying.”

“I could teach you.” Tommy offered.

“Yeah? Would that be before or after your famous Chilli?” Buck asked.

“No time like the present.” Tommy suggested to Bucks surprise.

“Really?”

“We’re in a blackout with nothing else to do so why not?”

“O-okay.” He agreed. And suddenly he could feel his pulse again. Tommy came over and stood in front of him.

“At the risk of sounding disgustingly heteronormative, you’re going to be the woman in this scenario, okay?” He said and Buck simply nodded.

“Okay, so you’re going to put one hand here -“ he took Bucks left hand and placed it on his waist. “-and the other I’ll hold here.” He held Bucks right hand in the air while his other went around bucks shoulder to his back. He looked down at the space in between them at their feet. “Just mirror what I’m doing with my feet.”

He began swaying gently and moving his feet in slow sequence with the rhythm of the music. Buck kept his head down watching Tommys feet trying to mirror his movements. Occasionally he would move his feet out of sync with Tommys, and each time a wave of embarrassment flushed through him.

“You’re doing good.” Tommy said and a burst of excitement exploded in his stomach at hearing the praise. Slowly Buck committed the steps to memory and looked up with pride at Tommy who was smiling softly at him.

“I gotta say you’re picking it up quicker than I did.” He confessed.

“Yeah?”

“I mean in my defence I was eight.” He said and Buck couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well you’re a good teacher. Maybe you missed your calling.”

“You think?” Tommy

“I’m sure there would be plenty of people who would pay to have you throw them around a ballroom.”

“Huh.” Tommy said. “Like this?” He moved his hand down to the small of Bucks back and quickly bent him down into a dip before bringing him back up again; their chests coming together.

“Holy shit!” Buck looked at Tommy entirely mesmerised. His stomach hadn’t got a clue what was happening. Neither did his brain. “That was.. wow.”

Tommy laughed at Bucks reaction.

“Impressive, no?” He teased.

“Uh.. ye-yeah.”

“How about this?” Without giving him time to think he lifted up the arm that had the hand holding Bucks and swung it around with just enough force behind it to spin him around before catching him perfectly in the same position as before. Bucks mouth opened in shock but no words came out.

He was utterly mesmerised.

Tommy just softly laughed. “Okay, no more surprise moves for now.” He said and continued their previous steps. Buck was moving his feet without even thinking about it. He had no idea if he was moving his feet correctly—he was far too distracted by Tommy looking at him.

“I have to say I wasn’t expecting the day to end like this when I got on a plane this morning.”

“You mean you didn’t foresee getting a dancing lesson from a-what was it you called me? Ah, yes—a hot firefighter.” Tommy’s lips slid into another smirk. Buck dipped his head bashfully and looked back up at him, shaking his head at his own embarrassment.

“You’re adorable.” Tommy said and Buck literally felt his heart skip a full beat.

“You’re loving this aren’t you?” Buck asked trying and failing to suppress an embarrassed smile.

“Little bit.” Tommy smiled back. Buck sighed and let his forehead fall onto Tommys shoulder. The hand that was on his back slid upwards and the next thing he felt was Tommys fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivered and blew out a breath; failing miserably at hiding how shaky it came out. He lifted his head back up at met Tommys gaze.

His eyes were glued to Tommy’s, until they quickly darted to his lips. Buck was helpless as to stop himself from doing the same thing.

And then..

And then Tommys lips were on his.

It was so unbelievably soft and gentle; a complete contrast to his hulking physique. Neither of their lips were moving but it didn’t stop Bucks entire brain framework from short circuiting.

Tommy slowly pulled away, opening his eyes to see Buck staring at him heavy lidded and his mouth open.

“Was that okay?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Buck willed his vocal cords to answer but they couldn’t. He was just so overwhelmed with far too many feelings that any human should reasonably have to deal with in a given moment. He responded in the only way that he was capable of.

And kissed Tommy back.

The kiss was more desperate than the one Tommy had given him and he pushed his lips into Tommy’s deeply. Tommy hummed in surprise but immediately pushed back into the kiss. He held on to the side of Bucks neck; his thumb on the hinge of his jaw as his other hand held him by the waist to his own body.

Almost immediately Buck opened his mouth to allow Tommy access and the first brush of Tommys tongue against his bottom lip sent an electric current through his entire body. His hands, that were gripping on to Tommys shirt tightly, slid up to his neck, holding him tightly in place. He’d pull him closer into his mouth if he could.

His mouth was warm and wet and tasting of beer and Buck couldn’t get enough. He was frantically trying to breath through his nose, not wanting to part his lips from Tommys even for a second to breath.

It was ridiculous. Utterly, utterly ridiculous. Never in his life had he ever thought about kissing another man and yet here he was doing exactly that and it felt-

Right.

His lips slotting between Tommy’s like the missing piece of the jigsaw, that was his whole self, being slotted into place. His whole life he’d felt like there was a puzzle to complete but it came without instructions or a finished image to give him a clue as to how to complete it. He’d gone to so many places; done so many things in an attempt to figure it out.. Yet here it was—the missing piece of the puzzle and it came in the form of a beautiful man named Tommy Kinard.

Buck hadn’t particularly articulated all of this to himself—that would come later—but all he knew; all he felt was wanting. He wanted Tommy. In any way that he would allow Buck to have him.

In an act of instinct that his brain wasn’t involved in he pressed his hips forward into Tommy’s. They both moaned at the touch and Buck went from half hard to fully engorged at the feel of Tommy’s erection against his. Tommy—grabbing his ass with one hand; the other on Bucks face—deepened the kiss.

Buck could barely breathe from the overwhelm of heat flowing into every inch of his body. His nerves were on edge with thrill and anticipation as they ground their hips together.

Tommy’s lips moved along Bucks jaw, down his neck and he sucked delicately at his collarbone. Bucks head tilted to the side and he breathed loudly outwards.

“Shit…Tommy..”

Tommy hummed at the sound of Bucks exclamation and grabbed his ass harder, pushing his groin into Buck. Buck needed to taste him again and dipped his head, catching Tommy’s lips with his own. God, Tommys lips were perfect! They moved wondrously, with the perfect amount of pressure. His tongue was deft and purposeful in its movements and tasted like heaven.

He almost cried when Tommy gently pulled away. He held bucks face in his hands and rested their foreheads together.

“Evan..” he said breathy “we should st-“

“No.” Buck interrupted. He pulled his head back to look at Tommy. “I don’t want to. I.. I want you.” Tommy swallowed, looked down at Bucks lips then back up to his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

And once again Buck answered without words. This time however, having more confidence, he took his time. He slowly ran his hand along Tommys jaw, gripping him lightly with a thumb against the hinge and pressed his lips into Tommy’s.

A shiver went through him as the palms of Tommys hands pressed against his shoulder blades, holding him tightly to his chest. Being held by someone as big as Tommy was illuminatingly wonderful. For the first time in a long time Buck felt safe.

Buck was radiating enough heat that he feared he might actually melt into a puddle. He unzipped the hoodie he was wearing and let it fall to the floor before peeling Tommys open shirt over his shoulders and dropping it to the floor too. He immediately pulled at the hem of his undershirt and Tommy raised his arms allowing Buck to remove it. Tommy pressed another kiss onto Bucks lips then pulled off his T-shirt.

Tommy went straight for Bucks neck again and goosebumps exploded all over his skin. His hands pressed against Tommy’s chest—his finger tips caressing the smattering of hair along Tommys skin. This was something overwhelmingly new and unexpectedly exciting for Buck. Lack of breasts was one thing, but the feeling of chest hair under his fingers was surprisingly turning him on.

They migrated towards the bed with Buck getting on first and pulling Tommy on top of him without even breaking the kiss. And holy shit he never knew that having the weight of someone near enough the same weight as him—perhaps a little heavier—would feel so good!

Both of their hands were all over every inch of skin they could get too. Caressing and stroking and rubbing and kissing—no inch of bare skin was left untouched.

Buck trailed wet open-mouthed kiss along Tommy’s throat; his tongue licking into every one of them. Tommy was breathing heavily into it and Buck felt awash with pride and self satisfaction. He had game when it came to women—he knew what buttons to press to turn them on, but there was something extra exhilarating about turning on this man on top of him.

And he was a man. Buck was quickly beginning to realise that what was turning him on the most was Tommy’s masculinity. His weight, his breadth, his body hair, even the stubble on his chin that was burning into Bucks skin was addicting. And his large hands gripping onto his shoulders and chest and waist and oh god his neck!

Tommys hand slowly caressed down his torso and lower stomach and when it reached his waistband Buck sucked in an anticipatory breath. Tommys fingers gripped the elastic. He lifted his head to meet Bucks eyes.

“Is it okay to take these off?” His eyes were blown and his lips kiss-swollen and Buck thought it was the hottest he’d ever seen anybody ever look.

“Y-yes.” His voice came out throaty and strained. Tommy smiled and kissed him again before lifting himself off of Buck. He moved down the bed and Buck lifted up his hips to allow Tommy to slowly pull them down and off, throwing them somewhere across the room.

His eyes roamed over the large bulge in Bucks underwear before they moved back up to Bucks eyes. For the first time since this started he felt an element of self-consciousness. Tommy seemed to sense this and made his way back up towards Bucks face and kissed him gently. Bucks self-consciousness immediately melted away.

“Do you want me to take mine off?” Tommy whispered.

“Definitely.” Buck replied with a heavy breath. Within seconds Tommy’s jeans were thrown to the floor. He laid back down on his side, pulling Buck in to face him. They kissed deeply as their legs tangled together and hands continued exploring each other.

Buck was lightheaded. His brain was having trouble reconciling the array of physical sensations and feelings he was experiencing all at once. Especially the feeling of Tommy’s underwear covered cock pushing against his own. He couldn’t help the whine that escaped his mouth as Tommy jerked his hips towards his; could feel himself leaking at the touch as they rutted against each other.

“God, Evan.” Tommy moaned into Bucks mouth and oh god that was unbelievably hot! His finger tips slid into the back of Bucks underwear, grasping at his ass and pulling him even closer. Buck grunted in response.

Tommy’s lips grazed Buck’s ear as he whispered into it.

“What do you want, baby?” And Jesus that pet name almost broke him in two.

“To-touch me.” He couldn’t hide the pleading in tone. Tommy groaned at Bucks reply, kissing him again. His hands gently held Bucks face as he lifted himself back on top of him but not putting down his whole weight. Buck bucked his hips up in search for the friction he’d become addicted to.

“I got you, baby.”

There it was again: Baby. He’d been called pet names before but fuck this felt different. The juxtaposition between Tommys sheer size and masculinity and the softness of his words was wondrous.

Tommy continued kissing Buck beautifully whilst letting his hands slowly travel down Bucks body and his hand dipped inside the fabric of his boxers.

The moment Buck felt Tommy’s warm hand gently caress his throbbing length he couldn’t hold in his response. “Fuck!” He felt Tommy smile against his lips. His thumb lightly caressed the slit collecting Bucks pre-come and Buck’s body vibrated at the feel. Tommy lifted his face up from Bucks a few inches to watch him as he slid his hand back down Bucks cock, then slowly up again; squeezing just the right amount to drive Buck almost to insanity.

Buck began panting and grasping onto any part of Tommy he could reach in a fruitless attempt to steady himself. Tommy kept eye contact with him while he worked his cock faster and Buck wasn’t sure which was turning him on more.

Eventually Buck involuntarily scrunched his eyes shut as his head threw itself back onto the pillow. “Oh.. g-god..fu-Tommy, I.. it’s.. fuck!” He was babbling; unable to form a coherent sentence. Every synapse, every vein, every inch of his skin was on fire.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Tommy said throaty and low.

“Fuck!” His hips bucked up into Tommys hand faster, chasing the edge of the cliff he was desperate to fall over.

On the next up stroke Tommys hand left Buck and for a moment he felt an overwhelming disappointment at the lack of touch. He lifted his head up to see why Tommy had stopped only to see him setting free his own cock. Buck sharply inhaled at the sight of his flushed and swollen dick, and desperately wanted to wrap his fingers around it. Before he got the chance however Tommy took him by surprise by taking them both in his hand, moaning loudly at the first slide of his hand.

Buck was certain that his heart was mere seconds from giving out as Tommys quickly caught up to the rhythm he had going before.

“Holy shit!” Buck cried out and yanked Tommys head down to kiss him. This one was unbelievably filthy; Buck having absolutely no composure left. “Oh god..” he pulled apart trying desperately to breathe.

“Evan..” Tommy moaned and the second it hit Bucks ears he was done for.

“Shit! Shit..shit.. ah.. fuck!” Sparks behind his eyelids exploded into a kaleidoscope of colour and every muscle in his body tensed as he came harder than he had ever done. In the middle of it shooting all over his chest, he felt Tommy’s body shaking and tensing before he shoved his lips hard into Buck’s, kissing him as he realised his own load.

“Fuck, Evan!” He moaned into Bucks mouth as their collective orgasms slowly petered out. He shoved his face into the crook of Bucks neck as they both tried to catch their breath.

Eventually their breathing slowed and Tommy lifted his head back to look at him. Bucks face was a mixture of blissed out and mesmerised.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked softly. He raised his hand and gently rearranged an errant curl that had fallen onto Bucks forehead. It was such a simple act of care but after the overwhelming feelings, both physical and emotional, it was enough to push Buck over the edge and his eyes quickly welled up with a tear escaping and running down his temple towards the pillow.

Tommys face morphed into concern. “Hey, what’s wrong? Was that too much?” He lifted himself from Buck and laid on his side, resting on his elbow, looking down at Buck.

“N-no..” Buck replied, his voice wrecked “it’s not.. I..” His breath hitched as he tried to keep more emotion at bay “that was.. new. And.. and a lot. I-I just..” He blew out a breath to try to calm himself. “It’s just a little over-overwhelming, that’s all.” Tommy continued looking at him with concern.

Bucks lifted a still shaking hand to Tommy’s face to reassure him. “I’m okay.” Tommy put his hand on top of his and Buck leaned up and placed a long and delicate kiss to his lips. He gently leant back, with Tommys mouth following him. Their lips moved slowly and softly; no heat or tongue involved—just two people relishing the soft moment.

“We should clean up.” Tommy said after a few minutes. Buck shifted to get up and Tommy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “No—wait here.” He walked over to the bathroom and wetted a towel and returned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Is it okay if I wipe you down?” He asked. Buck simply nodded having lost the ability to speak at the care that Tommy was showing him. He’d never been with anybody who so consistently checked in with him when he was with somebody long term, let alone a someone he’d only spent a few hours with.

Tommy finished cleaning Buck then pulled his boxers back up, fondly tapping his hip as a little flourish at the end of the job. He threw the towel back into the bathroom and laid back down on the bed, lifting his arm up. “C’mere.” He said and Buck didn’t hesitate to slide his body over and rested his head on Tommy’s chest.

It was different being the one to cuddle into someone’s chest—usually he was the one with his arm around his partner. But as new as it was, it felt good; calming. He couldn’t help but swirl circles into Tommys chest hair either his finger; the novelty of sleeping with someone that had it had not left him yet.

Tommys hand was lightly running through Bucks curls and he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed at the feel. He sighed contentedly and Tommy placed a kiss onto the top of his head. He couldn’t help but smile into Tommys skin as his consciousness slowly slipped away.

*

Buck sighed heavily as he woke up. He kept his eyes closed as his brain came back online. He was warm and cosy wrapped up in the thick blanket. Slowly his eyes blinked open and at seeing the room he was in, the memories of the previous night came flooding back.

But Tommy wasn’t there. The room was empty. Buck laid back staring at the ceiling remembering what happened between them. A flush came over him as he remembered the feeling of Tommys lips on his; his hands all over his body, and his voice! That molasses-infused voice praising him was otherworldly.

What did all of this mean for him? He was never afraid of new sexual experiences—hell he relished them—and he wasn’t ashamed of the fact that this one involved a man. More than anything it was surprising. He knew that plenty of people discover things about their sexuality later in life, but could you really go 33 years without a single clue?

He tried searching through his memories to find some kind of clue that maybe there was something that stood out. There was that one time in Texas with a firefighter named TK; he’d thought Buck was asking him out, and Buck was quick to deny that that was what he was doing, but.. It’s no secret that he had a thing for competency, and he worked side by side with TK; saw just how good he was at his job. Maybe he was attracted to him?

Before he had a chance to think more, the door opened and Tommy walked in holding 2 cups of coffee; with a brown paper bag held in his teeth.

Bucks stomach swooped and flipped at seeing him. He walked over to Buck reaching out of the cups for him to take, before removing the bag from his mouth.

“You hungry?” He said, placing his own coffee on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed by Bucks hips.

“You-you brought me breakfast?” Buck asked in surprise. Tommy smiled and Buck felt his heart rate increase.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t?” Tommy said it so plainly; so as a matter of fact as though not doing it wasn’t even an option.

“Th-thanks.”

Tommy tentatively leaned down and pressed his lips to Bucks. Just a quick chaste kiss, but one that Buck pressed into. Tommy smiled again as he released Bucks lips and sat back up. Buck took a sip of the coffee and hummed pleasantly.

“I didn’t know how you take it, so I took a guess.”

“Good guess.” Buck told him happily.

“I figured your coffee would resemble you: strong bodied and super sweet.” Buck couldn’t hide the blush that spread across his cheeks and smiled back at him.

“I take it the snow has let up?” He asked trying to change the subject away from Tommy trying to actually kill him with compliments.

“Yeah, a little. Enough that I could get my truck out to get food. Still no power though. But the local radio said half the towns power is out.”

“Shit, really? I should probably check on Maddie.”

Tommy pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out to him. “Here. If you wanna call her.”

“Oh, I don’t actually know her number.” Buck admitted. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a first responder—you know how important it is to remember energy contact details.”

“Says the guy who created a fire hazard last night?” Buck teased back. Tommy opened his mouth to respond by quickly closed it. “Exactly.” Buck smiled.

“Well, I have Howie’s number anyway if you want to call him. You said he was here, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” He took the phone and pulled up Chim’s number.

“Tommy? Long time no-“

“Uh, actually it’s Buck.”

“Buck? What.. why do you have Tommy’s phone?“

“Because I’m with him.” Buck informed him.

“You’re with-wait, wait, wait—did you go back home?!”

“No, uh, he’s here in Hershey.”

“Tommy’s here in Hershey?” Chim repeated.

“Yes,”

“Why the hell is Tommy in Hershey?”

“It’s doesn’t matter, Chim. Look, I just wanted to check in on you, my sister and Jee with the blackout.”

“We’re fine. Well, aside from your sister freaking out about not being able to contact you. She’s really having a hard time, Buck.”

Buck sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know and I’m sorry I scared her—I just needed to get away from them.”

“Hey, I get it—I’ve witnessed enough of Philip and Margaret’s antics, but you really should have talked to her.”

“I couldn’t, Chim.” His began to raise his voice. “She was the one who convinced me to come. And I know she didn’t know what they’d be like, and it’s not her fault, and i know it’s irrational, okay, but-but i needed to get away from her, too, to cool off.”

Tommy put his hand on Bucks leg and gave him a gentle reassuring squeeze. Immediately Buck anger began to dissipate as he looked at Tommy’s soft, reassuring expression.

He kept eye contact with Tommy as he spoke into the phone. “Chim, I have to go. Tell Maddie I’ll be back later and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Okay, but-“

Buck ended the call, threw the phone onto the nightstand and leaned forward, grabbing Tommy at the back of the neck to pull him in for a searing kiss.

Tommy willingly leant into it and held onto Bucks face; his thumb gently grazing his cheek. The kiss quickly slowed down into a soft and deep one. Buck was—god how did he not know it could feel like this? Tommys lips and tongue were perfect. He could do this forever.

But that begged the question: what now? Tommy was here in Hershey to sell the motel—who knows how long that will take. And when he’s back in L.A would he want to see Buck again? Buck couldn’t pretend for a moment even to himself that he didn’t want to see Tommy again. He’d some managed to slide himself into the space between Bucks organs and it filled him with warmth and excitement.

He gently released the kiss and rested his forehead against Tommy’s. They both just breathed each other in with closed eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” Buck asked quietly.

“Anything.” Tommy replied piling back to look at him. That smile was killing Buck from the inside out.

“What happens now? I-I mean.. obviously I have to go back to L.A in a few days and you.. you’re here and-and I don’t.. I don’t want to not see you.” He looked down, embarrassed at the confession. Tommy tilted his chin back up with two fingers.

“I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to sell this place. I don’t expect this; expect you. But I don’t want to not see you either.”

Bucks felt every atom in his body shift and vibrate and he could stop the grin.

***

He was quiet on the journey to the airport, during check in, waiting to board and the first half of the flight. Eventually Maddie approached the subject.

“You okay?”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He asked.

“Um, no. But, I do believe that some people come into your life that you’re feel an immediate connection with.” She looked at Chimney who was sat across the aisle in the middle row playing with Jee-Yun. “Wait, have you met someone.”

“Tommy.” He said.

“Tommy the-wow!”

“What, wow?” Buck questioned looking at her.

“No, not wow. I mean like.. wow.. I didn’t think that’s where your interest would lie.”

“I didn’t either.” He said. “I love women—I’ve always loved women.”

“How long have you been leaning in the other direction?” She asked.

“I haven’t; not specifically. I mean, sure I’ll check out a hot guys ass, but that’s normal.” He argued.

“It’s not abnormal.”

“But Tommy.. I dunno, he’s so confident, he’s interesting; he has a cleft..” A feeling of disappointment came over him that he didn’t kiss Tommy’s cleft when he had the chance.

“And you think you’re in love with him?” she asked.

“I.. I don’t know. Ive never.. I’ve never felt like this, Maddie. It’s like.. the way he looks at me I feel like-calm, you know? Being with him made me feel like all the bad shit that has ever happened to me didn’t matter. I have this feeling in my stomach like he’s been carved into it. I know, I know I sound like an idiot..” he sat back in his seat, sighing.

He did sound like an idiot—he’d known the man a few days—how the hell could he be in love with him?! If it even is love.. maybe it’s just infatuation.

“Buck, you’ve been through a lot on your life—more than most. And all I want for you—all I’ve ever wanted for you is to be happy. Does Tommy make you happy?”

“I mean.. yeah. But, we barely know each other. What if he comes back to L.A—if he ever comes back—and it’s not what I want it to be?”

“I can’t tell you if it’ll work out, and maybe it won’t. But maybe it will. Maybe it’ll be the best decision you ever make. After Doug I was terrified of taking a chance with Chim. But i knew there was something between us and I took that chance and now we’re married, with a beautiful daughter and I couldn’t imagine my life with anybody else.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Maddie. I’ve always wanted that for you too, you know.”

“I know. Look, the question you have to ask yourself is: Is Tommy worth the risk?”

Buck relaxed into his seat and stared out of the plane window at the clouds below him, contemplating Maddies question.

*

After collecting his Jeep from Maddies house he made his way through town to his apartment. He pulled his bag out of the trunk and heavily made his way into the building, thinking about this last conversation with Tommy.

Buck walked into the motel foyer solemnly. This was the last time for a potentially long while that he would be able to see Tommy. They’d only met 3 days ago and yet he’d somehow rooted himself inside Bucks consciousness.

“Hey you.” Tommy greeted walking out from the back room.

“Hey.” He said trying to force a smile.

“You heading home?” Tommy asked coming closer and sliding hands around Bucks waist. Buck naturally let his arms rest around Tommys shoulders.

Buck nodded. “They’re in car waiting for me.”

“Oh, well don’t let me keep you.” He moved to release Buck who held on tighter.

“What if I wanted you to keep me?” There was a small smirk to his mouth. Tommy gripped him tighter and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Hmm, now that is tempting..”

Buck took him in another kiss; this one deeper and open mouthed. As their lips and tongues met Bucks mind went blank to everything—Tommy being all he could focus on. He gripped Tommys body tighter and shoved his head into the crook of his neck. Tommy hand came up to stroke the hair on the back of his head.

“I-I can’t believe I have to leave you.” He mumbled into Tommys neck.

“I hate it, too, baby.” He replied and Bucks insides turned to goo again at the pet name. He would stand like this forever if he could but the car horn that blasted from outside. They pulled apart a few inches and Tommy lightly held Bucks face as he kissed him in the softest way; one Buck had never been in the receiving end before. He rested his head against Bucks.

“We’ll see each other again soon, I promise.” He whispered.

“How do you know that?”

“Because how could anybody let someone like you go?”

Buck had to use everything inside of him to not burst into tears at hearing those words. He thrust himself forwards subjecting Tommy to a crushing hug.

“Oomph” Tommy chuckled.

After a few more hugs and not nearly enough kissing, Buck reluctantly left Tommy.

He left the elevator and walked along the corridor towards his apartment. As he turned the corner he stopped dead in his tracks. His bag fell to the ground from his hands, his throat dried up, his heart throbbed in his chest and tears threatened to escape his eyes.

Leaning against his door, with those blue eyes, and that smile that created those beautiful lines around his face, was Tommy.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he simply said. The tears came from Buck as he hurtled forward and crashed his lips into Tommy’s. Somehow having Tommy here now made him feel more at home.

“What are you.. how did you.. I can’t believe.” Buck has so many questions and tries to ask them in between kisses.

“Perks of being a pilot.” He answered. Buck pulled his head back and looked at him.

“You-you flew all the way here?”

“It was the quickest way to get to you.” And oh my god if he wasn’t in love with Tommy already, he would be soon if he kept saying things like that.

“What about the motel?”

“Well..” Tommy said in between kissed to Bucks temple and cheek. “I don’t actually have to keep it open while looking for a buyer. Plus, I fucking hate running a motel.”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, are you going to invite me in, or..?” He asked running his hands along Bucks shoulders.

“Oh.” Buck said, a little embarrassed he’d forgotten they were still standing in the corridor. “Of course.” He picked up his bag and unlocked the door letting Tommy in first. Tommy walked through the kitchen looking around at his surroundings as Buck closed and locked the door.

He stood for a moment just looking at Tommy. He still didn’t know if what he was feeling was love, but wherever it was, he was going to welcome it.

Risk it.

Tommy turned around to look at Buck the other side of the kitchen.

“C’mere.”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 78

Part 1 Part 77

Eddie always thought he’d be in jail before all this hard labor bullshit starts. Still, here he is, chipping away at the cold earth with a shovel Mama Byers stole from Merill’s shed. And it’s all to save the same man who’s busted his balls more times than he can count.

But Steve had pointed, and Eddie’d started digging. 

He’s sitting now, criss-cross as he stares down at the ground like he can see through it, feet crossed, and t-shirt on backwards. Eddie had thrown it over his head as Steve walked out of the house, while While stuffed his sockless feet into his tennis shoes as best as he could. It’s not right. He’s not right. 

Eddie can still feel the thread tying them together, but it’s brittle now, obvious next to the nylon still twined between Eddie and Will. 

Steve’s barely there at all.

He’s always lived in an empty house, been an empty house. The thing inside him is just the first to take up residence – to fill the vacancy. 

Eddie wants his empty house back.

He’d spent a year watching Steve blossom, filling that emptiness with laughter and cooking and someone to come home to. Eddie’d helped Steve move in, rearrange the furniture in his mind and feng shui that shit until the sun was always shining. He’d seen the curtains begin to open.

It’s jarring, now, to look into his eyes and see the glassy windows of an abandoned home. 

So Eddie does all he can; he digs. The hole grows bigger and bigger, growing at the same rate as the blister on the side of his right thumb. He takes turns with Mama Byers, her lithe frame hiding surprising strength. 

She’s the one at the mantle when the shovel strikes air. She pushes it down hard, gasping as it falls straight through, clattering somewhere below with the dull thud of metal on packed earth. 

“Well, shit,” she says, staring down at the far-too small hole in the earth, just big enough to lose a shovel in. 

Eddie peers down with her, eyeing the loosened sides and the distance of the drop. “Think we can stomp the rest out?”

“I don’t think that’s–” Mama Byers starts, but Eddie’s already stomped down.

The dirt crumbles easier than he expects, like all it wants is to tumble down into the unknown with the shovel. Eddie’s whole foot goes through, and he tumbles down with it. 

It’s not far, but he lands on the handle of the shovel, feels it reverberate up his spine. He closes his eyes against the pain, groaning as he rolls away from the impact site. 

“Eddie?” Will and Mama Byers both call down to him. He opens his eyes to look up at their worried faces, haloed by the dim gray of the November sky. Steve doesn’t make an appearance, but he can still dimly feel him up there.

“I’m fine!” he calls, hoisting himself onto knees and hands and hoping it’s true. 

His ankle twinges as he gets it under him but it holds his weight as he levers himself upright. He barely even notices the pain because then he sees him: Hopper. He’s on the ground, and he’s not moving, as the vines writhe around him.

“Shit!” Eddie cries, rushing over and dropping down next to the man. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He says it like a mantra, barely noticing Mama Byers calling down at him, demanding he tell her what’s happening. 

Eddie yanks at the vine, trying to wrench it from the man’s throat with little success. He sobs when Hopper croaks out a quiet, “knife.” It’s the first sign of life the man’s shown and Eddie will take it with both hands. 

“Where?” Eddie cries. “Where is it?”

“It’s there!” Mama Byers calls. She’s collapsed on the ground, winded from her own fall into the tunnel. Eddie follows her pointing finger to his right.

He lurches for it as Mama Byers crawls up to take his place holding the vines away from Hopper’s windpipe.

Eddie saws at the vine around his neck, around his torso, around his wrists. He loses time to hacking away, barely noticing the viscous black blood that oozes out of it and splatters his clothes, hands, face. 

All he knows is Steve’s barely there at all anymore, and this is the same fucking thing that had slithered down his throat

 and made its home inside him in the first place. 

He can hear Hopper coughing, Mama Byers calling his name, but it’s all muffled, like he’s under water. Like he’s still in the Harrington pool, drowning. Like he never made it to the other side. 

Maybe he didn’t. 

Maybe he’s still down there, sucking down chlorine like it’ll quench his thirst. At least down there, he’d had a hold on Steve. But, now, he can feel the tether turning to ash in his mouth. He’s so thirsty. He wants to swallow the world.

“Munson”

He keeps hacking away at the vines, like they’ll stop strangling Stevie. Like this will be the thing that saves them.

“Eddie.”

Like they’re what’s strangling him, smoke and helplessness clogging Steve’s esophagus and making a home within him. 

“Kid!”

There are warm hands gripping his wrist, hard. Warmer than Steve’s been. Eddie looks up, and Hopper’’s staring at him, ragged and dirty and panting, but alive. Eddie looks down at the wrist he’s holding. Hopper’s knife is clutched hard enough that it hurts. 

“You got them,” Hopper says, voice that soothing, gruff timber he uses on little kids, and victims. “You can let go.” He squeezes Eddie’s wrist before loosening his hold and running his thumb up the veins of his inner wrist. “You saved me, kid. You did good.”

It hurts when he drops the knife, tendons protesting the change of position after he knows how long clenching down. Hopper drops his wrist, clasping his shoulder and squeezing that instead. “You did good,” he says again, and then again, like that’ll stop Eddie’s shaking. It doesn’t.

Eddie nods, still looking down at the knife. His hand clenches on air. He feels bereft, so he pulls on the threads that bind. One made of titanium, and one made of dust he can barely feel at all. 

He jerks his head up at the ceiling, straining his neck to see Steve and Will’s faces. He needs to know that they’re both still there, waiting for him to come back. That Steve’s still Steve, waiting for Eddie to save him. 

Steve’s always dying. Eddie’s always trying to save him. 

But Steve’s not there at all. 

There’s just dirt, only a shovel as proof of the morning spent digging a hole. Digging a grave for them to disappear in. 

“No, no, no!” Eddie cries, scrambling up. 

“Munson, what–”

“He’s gone!” He lurches forward, grabbing for the shovel, like he can somehow dig his way back. He hears Mama Byers gasp as he pushes the shovel up into the dirt. It doesn’t give. He pushes harder.

“Eddie, sweetie.” Mama Byers says, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “Will’s got him.” 

Will’s got him. Will, who’s bright light he can feel at Steve’s side, just above. Will’s got him.

Eddie drops the shovel on a sob, still looking, up, up, up.

“But how are we going to get out of her?” Eddie asks. No one answers because no one knows.

Digging a hole and escaping a grave are two very different things. 

Like the answer to a prayer Eddie would never send up, there’s a shout behind him. “Go!”

Eddie spins, and there’s a man in a Hvac suit, with a gun pointed straight at him. He stumbles back, feels Mama Byers’ steadying hands on his lower back. 

“Get out of here!” the man calls, voice muffled through his helmet. He gestures with the butt of his gun behind him. “Go! Go!”

Eddie flits by him, keeping as much distance as the small tunnel will allow just as something inhuman begins shrieking behind him. 

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. He bolts, Mama Byers and Hop hot on his heels, visions of Demogon’s on his heels pushing him faster. 

He passes more suits and more guns, and keeps going. The ground begins sloping upward toward the light of an open tunnel. He stops for a second, shocked by an end to the darkness.

The safety of right-side-up is steps away. The warmth of light and air and his people are so close, he can almost taste it. 

That’s when the screaming starts, from a voice he would know anywhere. Even like this. Even loud and wretched with pain. 

Eddie runs toward the sounds of his angel screaming. 

Part 79

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren

[peachesofteal]

okay okay I’m the anon who sent in the ask about if Simon would’ve chased Darling and like…now you have me intensely needing that AU where he chases her, carries her back, and ties her to the bed 😈

AND wondering how they even got her to the flat in the first place?? Like even Darling is confused, so it must’ve been that quick for Simon and Johnny to get her from the hotel back home for her to wonder how the hell she got back there

Sorry sorry I’m just so obsessed with Dead Disco and all these possible AUs and different scenes and scenarios have me going absolutely FERAL

I could be very well tempted to write "tying to the bed" au but also, loved this opportunity to revisit Darling and the guys between chapters three and four, when she was incredibly vulnerable and in a difficult mental space. So, thank you. All my love to you! 🩵

Canon for Dead Disco - takes place between Chapters 3 and 4. 18+ Mature themes. No smut but Darling doing darling things (eating issues, alcohol use, anxiety, depressive episode, etc.) Mentions of prescription medication. 

“Do you have any clothes?” Johnny asks, rubbing your shoulder softly. You nod and point to the bag that sits haphazardly on the chair. Simon rifles through it while Johnny works the towel in your hair, trying to get it as dry as possible. You sit still for him, unmoving, and it hurts when he remembers the way you were only two months when he washed your hair, giggling against him, relaxed and happy while he massaged his fingertips into your scalp, carefully making sure everything was rinsed from roots to ends.

Something rattles in Simon’s hands, and it draws your attention, your head whipping to where he’s got a bottle of pills in his hand, a full bottle, and Johnny smothers his grimace. Simon puts it back in your bag without saying anything, but the silence speaks for itself. You haven’t been taking your meds. 

“I’m sorry.” You lament, voice choked with tears, and Johnny pulls you into his chest, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

“Shhh. It’s alright, we know.” His heart breaks for you, for what he knows is going on in your head, for how you must feel. Abandoned. You felt abandoned by them. You felt like you were on the outside. You felt left behind.  He swallows the guilt, not allowing his own unsteady emotions to take over, instead choosing to finish with your hair and coaxing you out of your robe to get changed. 

“Are we…” you begin but trail off, and he holds the t shirt that Simon pulled from the bag towards you. “really going to get a new place?” you finish once your head pops through the hole, and he realizes it’s Simon’s t shirt. You were wearing his own when you answered the door, and he wonders how much of your bag is actually their clothing.

“Yes, darling.” Simon answers. “But first we need to get you home.” You stare at him kind of blankly, a little void-like, before you blink and nod slowly. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay? You’ll let us take you home?” Simon clarifies, because he needs it. Johnny knows, he needs to hear it, the permission, the allowance for what comes next. 

Control.

“Yes.” You whisper. Simon looks at him, and it’s all Johnny needs to understand. Stand down. Let me handle it. Lock step. Johnny nods. 

They get the hotel room together pretty quickly. You sit on the bed with your legs crossed the entire time, eyes burning a hole in the wall, vacancy still present there, unmoving until Simon prompts you, encourages you to stand, where Johnny hesitantly offers you his hand, to hold. Take it. Take it, please darling. Trust me. I’m here. I’m right here. 

You stare for a long moment, before you’re finally clutching onto him, letting his fingers intertwine with yours as he moves you towards the door. 

When the three of you get to the elevator, you falter. You step away from the both of them, letting go of Johnny’s hand, panic rising through you, your eyes darting between them and the elevator. 

“Darling.” Johnny tries to reach for you, but you step back. 

“I-“ you gasp, and then press your palm over your heart, like it aches, like you’re physically hurting. “I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sob, the sound tearing into Johnny, shredding him apart and he gapes at you, momentarily confused. No, no no. Come back to us. “I don’t- I don’t know.” Simon moves, fast, into your orbit, wide palm streaking across the dead air to hold onto you, pulling you into his chest while gripping your neck. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to act as the fail-safe, the thing that they turn to sometimes when presented with no other choice. The shutdown button. It settles you easily, gently, and pulls you back into yourself in moments like these. “I’m sorry.” You blubber, while Simon walks you backwards, slowly, until you’re pressed against Johnny, and his arms come around you easily.

“Stay with us, darling. Stay here. With us.” He coaches you, trying to keep you present, keep you calm while kneads his fingers against your shoulder. He vaguely remembers the still cold, half drank beer that was sitting in the dresser in your room, and it clicks together a bit more, why you’re so upset in this moment, compared to the tired, subdued, near catatonic state you’ve been in for the last hour. Alcohol is a depressant. And for you, and others who struggle similarly, it can make or break you. It can leave you feeling anxious for days after over consuming, can make your heart hurt and your brain confused that much more easily when you’re vulnerable like this. Johnny knows this. “Love, look at me.” He taps your jaw while Simon shuffles your bag back onto his arm and presses the elevator button, all the while still rubbing your neck. You peek up at him, face still half burrowed in his chest, and he takes the opportunity to ask. “Were you drinking earlier?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I’m so-“ 

“Don’t.” Simon soothes you. “Don’t apologize, darling. You’re okay. Everything’s alright now. We’re going to get you home, and get you into bed. Maybe something easy to eat if you feel up to it, okay?” 

“Okay.” You mumble. You keep yourself pressed into Johnny and he can’t help but soak it up, loving the feeling of you in his arms, safe, here, with him. Not gone. Not MIA. Here. 

You fall asleep in the car. Johnny holds you in the backseat, the entire time, and nobody speaks. Simon occasionally checks on him via the rearview mirror, and then reaches his hand behind the driver’s seat to squeeze Johnny’s knee. It’s a comfort, and Johnny just wants to fast forward until the three of you are together, at home, in bed. 

He wakes you when they pull into the parking garage, managing to rouse you enough to get you into the elevator, and by the time the doors are opening on their floor, you’re fully awake, your hands twisted together while you walk. He breathes deeper, breathes easier, when the front door opens, and he walks through, turning to coax you through the doorway with an outstretched hand and open palm, as Simon stands with every muscle tense, his eyes not blinking, not willing tear his gaze away from where you linger, and he knows its because he is afraid you'll bolt. Johnny's not sure he could keep him from chasing you down at this point, and when he glances at him again, he sees how his body is thrumming with nervous energy, ready to break into a sprint at a split second’s notice.

Come on, love. Come inside. 

“Darling?”

[curiositydooropened]

Ranged • 00: Prologue

After Hell brought Horror to the Heartland, America’s dirt roads and open woods began to fall to rot and ruin. To prevent further inter dimensional slips, the government dispatched several workers, such as yourselves, to travel the country saving small communities. 

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 922 - This fic is episodic.

Warnings: very slowburn, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, and vomit/nausea.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Episode 01: Firetower

Blood shone in thick, dark splatters across a freckled cheekbone. It stuck his hair to his ear and his collar to his throat. It stained a shoulder. You watched it glimmer under street lamps, watched the clench of his knuckles around the steering wheel, watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he avoided your gaze.

There was no point saying it anymore, the words exhausted their meaning a year ago, but it was true nonetheless. You can’t save everyone. You both knew it. It didn’t hurt less.

You mopped at the blood splatter on your own cheeks with a spare t-shirt to flirt a discount out of the motel attendant. He slid you a key on a novelty ring while Steve parked on the far side of the lot.

You’d set the phone on its receiver by the time he exited the shower. You rinsed bloody clothes in the sink and brushed your teeth and slipped into an oversized t-shirt. You couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Maybe you’d picked it up at a thrift store along the way. 

“Owens?” He asked, voice gruff, eyes red. A claw mark dug into the flesh of his cheek, to the bone.

You reached into your duffle for the first aid kit to procure ointment and a butterfly bandage. “Sit.” 

He sighed, but did as instructed, towel falling to his shoulder. He winced as you patted ointment into his wound. “Did he say where to go next?” 

You nodded, pressing his flesh together until it wrinkled near his eye. “Small town in Western Montana. Locals think it’s the water supply. Park ranger called it in.” 

“How far?”

“Eight hours.” You zipped the kit closed and wedged it back into your bag.

“Okay,” he muttered, tossing his towel into a corner near the sink. He stretched sore muscles with a groan, and you watched the bruise on his ribs bloom in greens and browns. The swelling was down significantly from two days earlier. “We’ll leave first thing.” 

He meant first light. You glanced out a fogged window at the glow of street lamps. The vacancy sign buzzed bright red. The sky remained dark just beyond.

“Okay.” You sighed and toed under linens that had yellowed years ago. 

Steve triple checked the lock and toted his bat from the nook near the front door to his bedside. Then, he pulled his lighter from his pants pocket and shook it to his ear. By the look on his face, it needed a refill. He placed it to the bedside table between you, just beside the Bible.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked it four times already, a compulsion you’d learned to ignore.

“Yes.” You knew better than to reciprocate, knew he wouldn’t answer you anyway. You had minimal sleep hours left. It wasn’t worth the fight. You can’t save everyone.

“I’m going to turn the light out.” He warned, sliding himself into his own double bed. A large hand reached beneath an orange lampshade and the room went dark.

The darkness was spotted orange and blue, and you fought back the images of Steve’s fists meeting and elderly man’s face. You fought back the screams that rang in your ears, the copper taste on your tongue, and that pang that lay permanent in your nostrils.

Steve shifted in his bed, springs groaning beneath his weight, and you honed in on him instead. Every night, you fell asleep to the steady in and out of his breath, the comfort of him an arm’s length away.

—

The ranger’s uniform matched the coffee and cream in your styrofoam cup. The confusion knit between his brows matched those of dozens of local law enforcement across this country over the last year. You flashed you badges and asked him to take a seat, and hours later you were holding your hand over your nose to mask the smell of decay.

The corners of Steve’s mouth pulled upwards in a grim apology, sipping his own coffee.

A room full of National Guardsmen looked aghast. There was no guarantee a burn of that size could stay contained. Half of the state could be up in flames by the end of the week.

“Better than the alternative.” You promised.

The Spread started on a cattle ranch north of town, the herd dwindling as calves and heifers slipped into cracks and broke legs and necks. A large crevasse rotted through a patch in the back forty, splitting the land down the middle from government land near to the rancher’s estate.

On the back side, it seeped into the river. Trees were downed and turned to mush and rot. Where once sat a hunting perch, now folded into a vat in the ground.

The Ranger had taken you up by four-wheeler, an excursion neither of you had been prepared for in slacks and blazers. You supposed those were hazards of the job though, wading through the remnants of a hillside in nylon stockings.

Steve rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up past his elbows to dive into the meat of a fallen tree. It came back green and gooey, but nothing had nest inside. Not yet, at least.

“You called just in time,” he wiped his hand on his pant leg and you dry heaved a little.

“So this… virus,” the Ranger gestured to the pocket of melted flesh, root to branch, “it can infect humans too?”

“If it festers too long,” you nodded.

“And what might that look like?” He asked like he already knew the answer.

---

[A/N: Here she is. These two have been my new best friends lately, the one thing I've written that actually stuck because it felt good. Let's hope it stays that way so I can keep riding this train. I don't know how often I'll update this, but it'll be on-going. I'd love to write blurbs, and I have a few episode locations/monsters in mind.

I'd really appreciate it if you reblogged and/or left me a comment. Or if you're more inclined, head to my Ao3 and leave me a comment there. It'd really mean the whole world. xoxoxo]

[spnbabe67]

Call Me Baby Doll

Kinktober Day 24: Cowboy Hat Rule (T.O.)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, PiV, Brief mention of fingering

Summary: What better way for Loretta to say fuck off to the men ogling her at the bar.

Word Count: 1827

Authors Note: Title based on the song BABYDOLL by Ari Abdul

Depending on who you are as a person the phrase “Cowboy Hat Rule”, could mean one of two things. If you are the first type of person, then you think of the rule stating straw hats are worn in the Spring and Summer, casual hang outs, and for work, and felt hats are worn during the Fall and Winter, for formal events and funerals. If you are the other type of person, however, your mind immediately goes to the not so wholesome rule. Loretta was familiar with both, the colloquialism was practically ubiquitous amongst city and country folk alike. But more importantly, she knew Tyler was familiar with it too. 

Loretta, Tyler, and the rest of their party had wandered into a little dive in this little one stoplight town. They’d been chasing a cell heading East from Kansas City, but they’d driven as long as their bodies could handle. Tyler had called it out over the CB to the rest of the team, asking if the rest of them were as ready to reset and regroup as he and Loretta were. By the time they rolled down the main drag, the little town was already crawling with others passing through, fellow storm chasers if their jeans, windbreakers, and tired faces had any indication. The one small motel was already absent of any vacancies, but it wouldn’t be the first time that they set up camp in the parking lot. Unfortunately, there were no open spaces for all their vehicles to park together, Tyler and parking their trucks away from the others before they all moved onto the bar.

The small dive was crowded, the hum of voices louder than the classic country music playing from the jukebox in the corner. Loretta thought they had decent food, though she thought her friends had other feelings on the burgers and wraps judging by the expressions on their faces. But the beer was cold going down, the chilled bottle biting against her hand as Tyler her tucked against his side. They’d been able to snag a high top from a group leaving not long after they arrived, forgoing the stools in favor of standing; after driving for the better part of the day, they all needed to stretch their legs a little bit

Loretta leaned into Tyler, his arm snaked around her waist to keep her close amongst the tightly packed area. She took another swallow of her beer just as Tyler dipped his head down to whisper in her ear.

“Seeing you in that dress drives me crazy, you know.” Loretta shivered as his lips ghosted the shell of her ear.

She grinned around the mouth of the bottle, finishing her drink off before responding. “It should. You got it for me.”

Loretta had spied the sundress in the window of this little boho store a couple weeks back. Tyler had gone back later to buy it before they moved on, saying the dusty rose complimented the golden of her skin. The flowy skirts kept her nice and cool against the summer heat and the stifling atmosphere of the bar, the hem of it brushing just above her knee. 

“Damn right I did. Glad I did, too. ‘Cause you look sexy as hell, and every guy in here knows it.”

Loretta knew he was right, had caught a couple guys’ attention latching onto her. That was until, of course, they finally noticed Tyler next to her. But what Tyler had failed to realize was that the figure he cut in his white t-shirt and jeans had also garnered some attention as well. Loretta had had to give a couple buckle bunny looking girls the stink eye as they just couldn’t get the hint, including the one platinum blonde who was currently making eyes at Tyler from across the bar. Not that Tyler noticed, his gaze already caught up with admiring Loretta. 

Loretta turned to face Tyler, a knowing smirk on her face as she reached up to pluck his cowboy hat from off his head. “Well, let’s make it very clear who I’m going home with then.” 

She watched Tyler’s eyes darken as she placed his hat on her head. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. Tyler squeezed her side, taking her empty bottle from her to place it on the table next to his own. 

“See you guys in the morning?” Tyler checked with Boone, Dani and Lilly as he practically dragged Loretta through the bar. 

She giggled as Tyler led her out of the building, waving goodbye to their friends, clocking their rolling eyes and over exaggerated kissing sounds after them. The bar was close enough to the motel that they’d all just walked, also not wanting to risk losing their parking spaces in front of the motel. So after a short walk, Loretta and Tyler ended up in the cab of her truck. Tyler had pulled her in after him, hauling her onto his lap before slamming the door shut. 

“Easy on the doors!” Loretta scolded him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Tyler chuckled, mumbling a half-assed apology as he leaned up to capture her lips in a deep kiss. Loretta carded her fingers through his hair, opening her mouth to him. His hands slid along her bare thighs, her dress having hiked up high around her hips with how she straddled his lap. She had parked her truck far enough in seclusion that the fact that she and Tyler were making out in her truck didn’t even register in her mind, only the feeling of his tongue sweeping into his mouth at the same time she felt him growing hard under her. 

Loretta rolled her hips against his, earning herself a low groan from his lips. His fingers tightened on the plush of her hips, guiding her back and forth against the bulge in his pants. She licked her way into his mouth, sloppily kissing him, feeling her core slowly start to throb as the zipper of his pants brushed against her through her panties. Tyler reached up, plucking his hat off her head and placed it on the dashboard behind her. He found her thighs again, sliding his palms even higher under her dress, pushing it up her torso until she helped him pull it off. The maneuver was awkward and clunky, Loretta banging her elbow against the roof of her truck bursting into laughter as her hand clipped Tylers jaw, giggling apologies as she tossed her dress to the seat next to them. 

Tyler laughed along with her as he helped her remove his own shirt, tossing it to the side as well, His eyes dragged slowly along her bare chest down to the lacy pair of matching pink panties that he could see were now thoroughly soaked through. He bit his lip, trailing back up her body to meet her eyes. 

“Perfect. Well, almost.” Tyler reached back around her to grab his hat, plunking it back down on her head. “Now you’re perfect.”

Loretta tipped her head back laughing, almost falling back against the dash were it not for Tyler’s arms around her waist. Her laugh turned breathy as his mouth latched onto the exposed column of her throat, placing open mouthed kisses along her neck. Loretta gripped his shoulders, continuing to grind down on his lap as his mouth worked down her neck to her collarbone, sloppily kissing her skin. She moaned shakily as Tyler nipped at her clavicle, the tip of his tongue flicking over the stinging sensation. He sucked bruises, a dark trail, from her collarbone down the swell of her breast until he closed his mouth around her nipple. 

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip so hard she thought she was gonna draw blood at the sensation of Tyler’s hot mouth around the sensitive bud. He dragged his tongue against it, swirling around her nipple, humming with delight as her moans spur him on. Loretta moaned his name, tugging on his hair until he pulled off her breast, pulling him up to her mouth.

Her hands find the button on his jeans as she nips at his bottom lip. “I need-I need you to fuck me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Tyler's hands land on top of hers, quickly undoing the button. He helped her raise up on her knees just far enough for him to push his jeans and boxers down around his knees in one go. His mouth found hers, kissing her deeply as his hand slipped between her legs. Loretta shamelessly rutted against his palm, unabashedly letting him feel how damn wet she was for him. He used one, thick finger to slide the crotch of her panties to the side before slipping down the center of her. Loretta whimpered as he plunged it inside her, curling it up towards her belly. 

“Ty.” She whined, grinding her clit against the heel of his hand. 

“I gotcha, Doll.”

Tyler’s hand retreated from her pussy, wrapping his hand soaked with her arousal around his cock, holding himself steady as she lowered herself down. Loretta used Tylers shoulders to steady herself as she lowered herself down onto his cock, feeling him stretch her out until she was fully seated on his lap with him inside her. 

It was so much, so, so much all at once. Loretta felt so full, clenching down onto his cock as she rose off of him a bit before sliding back down, both of them groaning as she moved. Slowly she continued to move on him, shaky legs lifting her up and then bringing her down. Tyler's hands gripped her hips tightly, guiding her as she gained speed. She rode him at her own pace, moaning into his mouth every time the curve of him had the head of his cock brushing against that spot within her, his pubic bone providing friction against her needy clit on each pass.

She chanted his name, sliding one hand up to the side of his neck as the other held his hat, a little too big, on her head as she rode him faster. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. Tyler moaned into Loretta’s mouth, the sound only adding to that growing pit in her belly. Her movements became choppy and sloppy as that euphoric feeling trickled down her back to her thighs and belly. Loretta’s movements stuttered as she came, inner walls clamping around Tyler’s cock like a vice. His release wasn’t far behind hers, Tyler burying his face into the crook of her neck as it rolled over him. 

A breathy laugh bubbled up between her lips as Loretta put Tylers hat back behind her on the dash, grabbing the blanket from across the seat back, wrapping it around their naked and rapidly cooling bodies. 

“Thanks for the ride, Cowboy.”

Tyler snorted a laugh, pulling her insurmountably further closer to him and Loretta rested her head on his chest.

“No problem, Lor.”

[octuscle]

That last story was fun, but I already *am* a twinkly Chalamet/Bieber guy. Seems like there’s a vacancy in that guy’s old construction team - maybe you could change me back the other way?

"Yuck" exclaims one of your friends. "Is that a hair on your chest?" You're sitting in the bubble tea bar and you look down. Your pink blouse is unbuttoned wide. You like to show off your flawless, smooth, flat chest. But in fact… A hair curls up between what could be your pecs. "Wait a minute" you chirp and go to the toilet to pluck it out. After that, you have to remember to make an appointment with Yvette for an eplilation.

While you're here, you can pee straight away. You giggle to yourself because you actually thought "piss". What a vulgar word! You unzip your skinny jeans… And your huge, cheesy cock pops out. It pulls a thick thread of precum all the way into your urine-yellow, encrusted jockstrap. How that stinks! But you have cursed pressure on your bladder. You're not peeing. You are pissing. With a huge stream. Fuck the last drops. Your jockstrap will soak them up. Wash your hands? Silly! You rub your hands on your dirty cargo shorts. As you pass the mirror, you think about what you were going to do again… You scratch your hairy chest… Shit, you've forgotten.

When you get back to your boys, one of them is laughing and splashing his beer over the table. He asks where you got that silly pink rag. "Call me Missy!" you say with a roar. No idea where it came from. Here in the bar, it doesn't matter if you're wearing anything on top. Most guys come here after work on the building site. You look around… Dirty T-shirts or wife beaters. The one or other naked torso. You take off your silly blouse and order another round of beer from Pete. One more beer is fine, then you want to do a bit of work on your own construction site before it gets dark. You'd like to pave the driveway before it starts raining tomorrow.

You love to work with your mighty calloused paws… Suddenly your cell phone rings. To be precise: it plays some silly ringtone. And it's in a silly pink case covered in rhinestones. It's Buck calling. Should he and the others come over with a cooler of beer and help you? Sure thing, you say, and fire up the barbecue for the steaks. You use the cell phone case as a barbecue lighter.

Inspiration gefunden @wolfdeutschland