#What you missed last month in new york city

[biglisbonnews]

What You Missed Last Month in New York City (According to Linux) This is What You Missed Last Month (According To Linux), in which nightlife it-girl Linux takes us behind the velvet rope and into the VIP section of Scene-City. Through her extreme (sometimes exaggerated) lens, Linux gives us the tea on what really happened at every party-of-the-century that floods our Instagram feeds. (A note from the author: don’t take what she says too seriously — she’s just a club kid after all).New Year, New Me! That’s the song we sing to ourselves (and others) at the end of each year. I believe the lyrics go: “my clothes will be looser, my lovers will be tighter and most importantly: my jokes will be funnier.” But what happens when 2023’s new dawn arrives, along with that promised new you, only to find that, as new as you may be, you aren’t necessarily a better you? What if how you looked online was not even close to how you arrived in the mail?Fresh into the new year, at a time meant for rebirth and positive reinvention, a slew of invasive thoughts entered my chat. Negative thoughts of self-doubt regarding my body image, career and overall life purpose ran through me like I’d never experienced before. Yes, kids: downtown it-girls have bad days too. So I tried a new diet and I tried a new lifestyle. In fact, I was willing to try anything in order to get out of my rut and into the best version of me. Sadly but unsurprisingly, the harder I tried to crawl to the surface, the deeper and deeper I fell down my little rabbit hole. Then, as I was begrudgingly sifting through a $20 kale Caesar salad for dinner, a path to solace from these meek and dreary voices that I had not yet traveled came into my mind’s eye. Here I was, trying so hard to behave... but what if what I really needed was to be bad? Alas, there was only one thing left for me to try: some good, old-fashioned nightclubbing.So I traded my homemade Bella Hadid Erewhon smoothie for a dirty vodka martini, popped on a pair of nine-inch heels and went dancing. On my very first night of the new year: I quickly realized it was here, under a disco ball in Bushwick, that the real new-and-improved me had been hiding. The best part? I wasn’t alone. From all different parts of our five boroughs, countless others who had also been going through their own versions of hardship joined me on the dance floor. Separate we may have arrived in a world of hurt and confusion, but together we danced in a universe of celebration.For years now, I’ve gone out nightly and written down each and every thing I see. I do it all so you, my loyal and fabulous readers, can have a taste of the things that make nightlife sooooo delicious. This January, New York showed a healing power to its wild, partying ways that I had never experienced before but desperately needed. So buckle up and prepare for the ride of your new life, because I’m about to tell you all about What You Missed Last Month. Onward to the New Year, New Me... and New York!NEW YEAR’S EVE: Y2RAVE See on Instagram For three years in a row, Ty Sunderland and I have thrown the best New Year’s Eve party that our city has ever seen. We started in 2020 at Brooklyn’s tried-and-true 3 Dollar Bill (before it was cool!) The demand for Y2Rave became so high (and I’m working for the bigwigs at AEG now) that it only made sense to move venues to the oh-so-massive Brooklyn Steel. The theme each year is something to do with Y2K culture. We’ve all had quite the year of self-discovery, so a break-out-of-the-matrix theme was the perfect fit. The room held thousands of club kids and gays alike, with Matrix Easter eggs placed around the club, like an old ‘90s NYC telephone booth and a pile of retro television sets. Leading up to the party, I directed a series of visuals alongside Matt Sparks starring New York cool kids Radical Pom, Airik Prince and Dombeef that would play over a giant LED wall behind our DJs. And girrrrrl did we have the DJs. All the way from Detroit, legendary father-daughter duo Floorplan played from 2-4 and kept the kids dancing until the wee hours of the early morning. Prior to that, after the midnight countdown, I stood on stage and poured multiple bottles of 1942 into the mouths of the most with-it partygoers and downtown it-people. Will we be back next year? Move over Times Square, I know a place with even bigger balls!NEW YEAR’S DAY: Battle Hymn See on Instagram Ringing in the new year did not stop at New Year’s Eve. Evenings become mornings and after a few short hours of refreshing ourselves, all of Scene City came back out and kept the party going well into January 2 at Ladyfag’s Battle Hymn. If you’re a regular reader of mine, you know the gist on Battle Hymn. But what made the New Year’s Day Battle Hymn so great was that all the amateur partiers had gone back into hiding from the night before. All that remained, while still a crowd of more than a thousand, were hardcore party-people, dance-o-holics and the most fabulous of junkies. If you were there, it was because you needed to be there. A good party makes a good party... but a great crowd makes a legendary party! January 12: Tom of Finland at Boom Boom Room See on Instagram It’s been a few months since the icon, the legend, the moment Susanne Bartsch threw a party at Boom Boom Room. That all changed when Bartsch announced a one-off party celebrating the Tom of Finland Foundation. With the hunky Coach Chris Keyloun set to make his Bartschland DJ debut, the overall vibe of the already-naughty Tom of Finland party was made even sexier. On a Thursday in January, Susanne Bartsch and her bubble of club kids wrangled together a massive aggregation of muscle gays in porn-staches and assless chaps. The night ended with Susanne’s now-regular DJ Arra closing the night and the butch-for-the-night attendees feeling extra juicy. Why do one-off’s have to be so good?January 21: Carry Nation at Good RoomFor more than a decade (yes... more than a decade!) New York-based DJ duo The Carry Nation has taken over Greenpoint venue Good Room and thrown the cuntiest Saturday night monthly in all of NYC. The main dance floor is the Good Room and the second side room is, well, the Bad Room. Back in November, The Carry Nation hit their 10-year anniversary of the recurring night. In New York, you’re lucky if you can throw one good party, not to mention ten years of good parties. Legends are legends for a reason; with their overarching musical talent as well as immaculate taste, it’s no surprise that, after all these years, Carry Nation at Good Room still hits. This month, CN newcomers Stiletto and Skin joined the duo on the decks, among other severely talented disc jockeys. I love this party because it feels like no one person is VIP, but rather everyone is a guest of honor.January 26: Demons at ParagonHello, taxi driver, I’d like to take a cab from Bushwick to Bushwick! And that’s exactly what I did when I found out Frankie Sharp was starting a new weekly Thursday night at Rave-Town’s hottest new spot, Paragon. Sister club to the infamous Bossa Nova Civic Club, Paragon is a somewhat new two-story club that has been gagging all of New York club culture lately. Combine that with the genius and craziness of Frankie Sharp, and you’ll be throwing up! This particular night, the outside temperature was almost down to 10 degrees. For most people that’s a bad thing, but for nightlife girlies like myself, it’s a sign of hope. Below-freezing temperatures end up being the nights when all the uncool, sane people stay home and the clubs are left with only the kookiest die-hard New Yorkers the city has to offer. To listen to the classic Frankie Sharp sound, stay on the top floor with the wraparound balcony. You’ll also find an array of live shows that happen here “late AF.” If you want lower ceilings and higher BPM, go downstairs to the club’s basement. Here you’ll get your life’s worth of hard-hitting techno coming out of CDJs propped on an old pool table in the foggiest of basements. Demons happens every Thursday; let’s hope Frankie Sharp stays in Brooklyn!January 28: Love Prism Disco at 3DB See on Instagram It’s been a minute since I’ve hit up Ye Ole 3 Dollar Bill. Every night at the Brooklyn gay club may be good, but not every night is major. On January 28, however, we got to experience one of the club’s major moments. Each month, for as long as I can remember, Ty Sunderland has thrown his color-coded half-disco, half-pop love letter to New York City with Love Prism. An integral part of Love Prism that stole the show this month was the intrinsic DJ set by Boyyyish, who played the peak hours of 12-2. Boyyyish gave the crowd a new sound that only makes sense for the next evolution of Love Prism Disco. Each month the party has a theme color and respective dress code; January’s was pink. Although most of the shirtless attendees did follow the dress code, you were only able to tell by looking closely at the pink t-shirts tucked into everyone’s back pockets. After the club lights came on at 4 AM, a large group of us stumbled to an after-hours a few blocks away that lasted well into the late morning. January 30: Glam Awards at Sony Hall See on Instagram Everything in nightlife this January led up to one final moment: the Glam Awards. For two decades, Cherry Jubilee has put on the show of the year to celebrate and honor countless New York Nightlife legends and newbies alike. Each fall, anyone who works in the industry receives a passcode that can be used to nominate their self-decided superlatives of the scene. The entire city votes in categories like “Best Party Host,” “Best Drag King,” and “Best Nightlife Event.” Every Glam Awards, the entire community comes out to Sony Hall in their fiercest attire for a chance to snatch home a trophy, cheer on their fav or boo their enemies. Related | Cherry Jubilee Tells All As the Glam Awards Celebrate its 19th YearNotable 2023 winners were Nicky O for Best Party Producer and P_A_T for Best DJ. All categories lead up to the Big Kahuna of Glammies: Entertainer of the Year, which was won by none other than Bootsie Lefaris. This was my second year being nominated for Best Nightlife Journalist, and after not winning last year, I worked my tight-and-right ass off all of 2022 to ensure a win home for PAPER and the billions of you that read this column. (Spoiler alert: I won!) A nightlife journalist is nothing without her readers, so for this award I’ll forever be indebted to you — yes, you, whose eyes are following this sentence right now. The night ended with everyone together as winners, losers and viewers, after-partying our faces off at Hush in Hells Kitchen. And by February 1? Those rotten voices I had stuck in my head at the new year seemed to fade away. This month, unlike any others before, NYC proved to me that therapy comes in many forms... and mine just so happens to be a loud room full of not-so-cool-kids with the fog machine on high. Photography, styling and hair: Airik Prince Art direction: Chris Correa Clothing: Nasty Pig and H&M https://www.papermag.com/linux-nyc-new-year-2659389652.html

[enhard]

⋆˙⟡ monster | lee heeseung

: when two rivals in an entertainment company turned late-night lovers, no strings attached… or is it something else?

pairing: ceo!l.hs x fem!reader

CW: smut, enemies to fwb to lovers trope??, pwp (3 smut scenes omg), hate sex, age gap: heeseung is 29, reader is 24, usage of condoms, riding, oral sex (both receiving), cum eating, some pet names, insults?, lots of profanity lmk if i missed anything

notes: couldn’t stop thinking about this while listening to monster by gaga. crazycrazy

wc: 7.3k words (MDNI)

There was only one thing you hated more than useless things in your timetable. It was the asshole of the whole company, Lee Heeseung. The more conversations you heard his name in, the more you despised his existence.

His ego was so high it could hit a plane, the way he would talk about his compositions made you wanna throw up. He praised himself so much, and you started wondering if he was just a huge narcissist or if we were insecure of his writing skills. Luckily, you never saw him around often as you were really caught up in your own work. Having to compose songs all the time for singers was not an easy task. Your chairman was an even bigger asshole than Heeseung, always giving you all the work. You had to not only compose songs from start to finish, but you also had to edit and mix the voices, help the singers use the right tones and so much more stuff that wasn’t originally included in your job plan.

Usually, you would stay at the office overtime, your eyes darkened with tiredness. It was a miracle you haven’t fallen asleep all this time.

 You looked at the time,

 [01:54 AM]

“Great.” You sigh. Your shift ended at 12 AM. What the fuck are you still doing here? It’s quiet in the whole building, only clicking sounds can be heard from your keyboard. You’re all alone with a few bodyguards left in the company. You groan, your head pounding from the intense light of your pc. All you want now is to get back to your apartment just to greet your cat Juno.  He’s your only best friend in this cursed city of New York, he’s a soft and fluffy black and white cat, with heterochromia eyes, left eye blue and right eye brown. You talk to him all the time, even though he can’t hold conversations he’s the best listener you’ve ever encountered. Better than your ex-boyfriends, that’s for sure.

As the clock reads [02:29], you’re more than ready to go home. You gather all your things, wish a great night to all the security people there and finally get out of that stupid building. You get your car keys out of your bag, driving home in your black i8. When you get home you feed your cat, finally plopping in your bed and falling asleep instantly.

You woke up due to your phone ringing at around 10 am with the hugest headache you’ve had. You palm your forehead, grabbing your phone with your other hand. Your co-worker, Yena, is calling you. You pick up as fast as you can, moaning into the phone due to being exhausted out of your mind.

“Yeah… Yena hey….” You say with half a mouth.

“Hey girl, are you coming to work? Today’s the showcasing, have you forgotten?”

Oh, fucking hell. You totally forgot.

A showcasing happens when all composers need to show the work they did in a few months’ time. You need to turn in all the songs you’ve made in this time, whilst competing with your other co-workers to be the best one, getting the title of the best songwriter of the month. Your company likes making leaderboards, only adding onto your stress of being the best. Of course, last month’s songwriter was Heeseung, but you thought the judges were so biased over him… you knew you could take him down this month.

“Right… I’ll be there soon just let me get ready.” You say, already dreading the idea of getting out of bed.

She hangs up, letting you wash up quickly. You fix up your hair, put on your suit and do a bit of makeup. You get your badge with your name on it and out you are. By the time you arrive at the company you’re already late… the higherups there scolding you for it.

“Please try to make it on time, you know how important this is.”

You sigh. How could they expect you to be there early when you went home at almost 3 AM last night?

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’m here now.” You add.

After you come out of your office to get your suitcase that had your files, you bump into the last person you wanted to see there. He throws you a cheeky smile, not even apologizing for giving you a shoulder.

“Oh, if it isn’t the famous miss L/n! Ready to get your dreams crushed by my songs again?” you scoff at him, crossing your arms. “Yeah right, like I’d let a scumbag like you take my title. I don’t have anything to prove to you, stay in your lane.”

He raises his eyebrows at your response, as you would normally walk away if he told you anything. “Oh is it miss complaint now? Let me actually show you how this job is done, im your ceo for a reason.” he suddenly stops smiling to give you a glare.

“You don’t intimidate me Mr. Lee, right on the contrary, you make me want to laugh.” you say and turn around, not wanting to waste your time with such a man. His sleek smile creeps back onto his face as he walks into his own office.

A few minutes later, you get back to the front, everyone already waiting there with their work. You stand next to Yena, holding the tank of papers in hand tightly.

Yena could tell you’re nervous, so she extended one hand up to yours just to squeeze it, calming you down a bit. Your other co-workers were not a threat at all, but Heeseung was the one person you wanted to bring down. You wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face. After much judging and testing, with recitals and rehearsals for the songs, the judges finally decided the points accorded to the candidates. The others already had way too little points to worry you, but you, Yena and Heeseung were left.

“Choi Yena, 127 points.” She sighed of relief. A sizeable number overall, but now it depends on what you and Heeseung did.

“Lee Heeseung, 140 points.” His eyes widen. There is a chance that you might win. You might take him over… You might take his place. No way, right?

After a good minute of silence, they finally list your points.

“L/n Y/n, 139 points.” You almost fall to your knees. Out of all chances, how could this happen to you?? You close your eyes and cover your ears before you go insane.

You let him win, again.

“Therefore, our winner this month will be Lee Heeseung, the winner of the last 3 months as well, Congratulations!” all you hear is buzzing in your ears. You grow sour of his name, of his voice, his face. You can’t stand his dumb mouth, dumb face, dumb voice. You can’t stand him at all, and you would do anything to see him fired or something. You know that won’t happen and it drives you crazy. Heeseung smiles, taking his prize in hand once again, his portrait remaining on the fame wall. He shakes hands with the judges before taking a good look at you.

You cannot look at him anymore, you just lower your gaze trying not to burst into tears. You worked so hard for this, yet he took away all your hope for a win. You storm out the room, sitting down at your desk to throw your head down on the wooden table.

One point. Seriously. This is ridiculous.

Well, you take a deep breath and continue with your shitty day. At some point in time, you get a knock on your office door. “Come in.” you say as you raise your eyes up to see who it is. “Oh Yena, hey.. sorry for not saying anything earlier…” you bite your lip.

“Don’t consume yourself over it, hey, that dude is a douche, okay? Do not let him get to you. You are better than him anyway.”

“Am I though? I mean… What if he is simply better than me. What if his songs are better than mine? What if his lyrics have more meaning than mine?”

“He is not better than you, and even if he will be proven to be, which I doubt, don’t ever let him know you think that.”

“I can’t be a narcissist just like him, Yena. If I am not as good as someone, I will take the responsibility on my shoulders and admit it.”

“See you’re already better than him, he would never” She laughs. You laugh back, although in your soul goes a fight between your ego and sincerity.

. . .

After the day ends, you finally go home early, not giving two fucks about what they might say or think, it is your right after all. Too bad that you get a message you dreamed of never getting, too bad it happened.

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT

“Good evening, members of the company. We are delighted to announce that tomorrow there will be a collaboration project between each other. The groups are arranged by the organisers, and they follow the lines of:

Now scrolling through all the pages, you search for your name. Oh, what are the chances.

Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n”

Of course this had to happen, it would not have been you if it were not for your amazing luck.

“Oh, suck on it seriously.” You look at your phone in disbelief, while making yourself tea. “Juno can you believe this? This man is going to ruin my image and my life. I can’t stand him anymore I swear I might kill someone if this keeps happening.” Juno meows, probably because he wants a bit of peace, but you still took that as an agreement to what you said. “I know, I know. I guess it will be okay… hope he doesn’t ruin my career for life with this. I do not trust him.”

The next day, you shake your head while getting out of your car, glaring at the tall building with huge windows. You always glare while looking at it, but somehow this time was different. It wasn’t because you hated your job, it was because you had to see your partner. All the people who greeted you in the halls got a cold response, or no response at all. Might have been a shitty thing to do but honestly you weren’t in the mood for anything anymore. You just wanted this day to be over.

When you get into Heeseung’s office, seeing him rummaging through his papers, you just stood in the doorway… waiting for him to finish his work. He raises his head to look at you, his mood getting insignificantly worse when his eyes met yours. Before he gets to sigh, you cut him off.

“The feeling is mutual. I usually try to act nice, but I just cannot stand you no matter how hard I try.” You cross your arms while he goes back to his papers. “Then take a seat.” He responds in the coldest way, only making you furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Okay damn…” you say under your breath while grabbing a chair to sit in front of his desk.

There are a few moments of silence, but you decide to ask him about the collaboration, same reason you’re here right now.

“Heese-” “It’s Mr. Lee for you.” You clear your throat annoyed. “Mr. Lee, I am only here to ask you about what we must do, can we focus on that?”

“Why would I make a project with someone as bad at writing as you?” he looks up at you again. You bite your cheek, barely being able to stand him anymore. You just look down to your thighs, grasping your palms together anxiously. Yuna told you to never be weak in front of him, but how could you not when he was so right?

“Please refrain from insulting my work and just take the organisations words, they put us together for this, so we need to do it.”

“If I let you work on this, you will just embarrass me in front of thousands of people. How about you just let me handle this? Go home, enjoy your days off. I’ll give you the credit.”

“You cannot just do everything alone; I do not care about days off I just want to work on this too. Please Mr. Lee.”

That is the first time he’s ever heard you say please to him. He hated your presence just as much as you hated his, why must you be at each other’s throats all the time? Simply because of rivalry or did other frustrations arise from both parties?

He licks his lips, finally giving in. “You can work on it with me Y/n. Just don’t disappoint me.”

“I promise I won’t. This matters so much to me.”

You follow him to his studio; he lets you get in first and that is when he locks the door behind you. You both sit down next to each other while you work on the song. He keeps acting weird throughout the recording and editing process, changing poses multiple times in a few minutes, sighing and fidgeting with his fingers. Halfway through the song you place your hand on his while looking at him. “Mr. Lee, are you feeling okay?”

That is when he sighs, snatching his hand away from yours and turning the pc off. He turns to you, keeping his eye contact consistent. “Y/n… i’ve just been feeling frustrated. Just forget it. Let’s focus on the song.”

Now you cannot say that you care about him, but you’re still curious to see what this is about. “Oh, is that so? Frustrated in what kind? Someone like you has feelings?”

He glares at you. “Not in the way you’d think, anyway.” You tilt your head. “But how? Tell me now, i’m curious.” “Maybe you should learn to keep your mouth shut, it’s none of your business.” “Just because you’re my superior does not mean you gotta talk to me like that, bastard.” He clenches his jaw. “Oh, that’s it.” He suddenly grabs onto your neck, pulling you closer. He’s still so gentle but it’s enough force to make you struggle to talk. “Is this what it’s about...? A... are you sexually frustrated…?” You tease. He releases the grasp on your neck and looks down at his hands. “I.. I’m sorry. It’s hard being alone when you’re pushing 30 you know.”

You had no idea what was happening right now, but you definitely enjoyed the attention you got. You were equally as touch starved as he was, and it was making you want more.

“You know, we could do this. But I really don’t like you dude.” You raise your eyebrow at him. He nods. “You don’t make yourself all that approachable either, would you really be down? I mean, just… fuck buddies… nothing else?”

“Mr. Lee, you know we both aren’t ones for relationships. But what’s in it for me?” “Oh, you want payment now?” “Well, you knew I wasn’t gonna give you myself for free, did you?” He laughs. “Fair, then how about I give you a raise?” “Mm… Anything else?” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay uhh. A raise and no more staying overtime, you get paid if you leave work early and… free coffee for life.” You ponder a bit. “Alright, I accept.” “Oh, not so quick, you need some rules to you too. For this to work you have to come help me anytime I need you.” “Libido that high, huh?” He shushes you and you giggle.

“Well okay, but if you’re really frustrated right now, shall we start today?” He looks back at you, visibly cringing from you being so direct with him, but he doesn’t mind. “I mean if you’re down.” “I am, but do you have any condoms?” That’s when you see him reaching for his wallet, taking out about 3 condoms out. Your eyes widen a bit, smacking your lips at his professionalism. “Oh, wow you’re ready.” “3 is a bit much…” “Who knows, i’ll end up using all of them and then end up going raw cause we are left with none.” “Yeah, don’t know about that.” “Im messing with you, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes, letting you get on top of his lap. Your lips finally make contact with his, getting to taste him in your mouth, the feeling lingering down to your stomach.

As you begin making out, your hand travels down to his forming bulge, squeezing and massaging it to the best of your abilities. As you’re doing that, he squeezes your ass with his palm, making you flinch from the sudden pressure. You playfully slap his face, pulling away from the kiss a bit. “You’re such a dick.” “I know, wanna feel mine already?” You give him one last kiss before pushing his head back on the chair to kiss his neck, insisting on his prominent adam’s apple. You suck on his sensitive skin, forming hickeys along his whole neck. “Fuck, Y/n, you’re not bad at this.” “I know, but you are.” “Oh shut up, I barely got to do anything.” You sigh, pulling away from his neck. “Let me ride you, m’kay?” “Do whatever you want to me.” He smiles coyly. “Could I kill you?” You pout your lips. “Not until you get your raise.” “Oh, fuck off.”

You start with unbuttoning his pants, not even taking them off before placing your hand on his boxers. You press his dick a bit, his groan appearing right after. “Mhm, that’s what I love hearing.” You nod to yourself. “Right from my mouth?” He teases too. “Oh, you know what I mean, I might need to stuff yours, so you shut up more often.” “Could you stuff it with your pussy?” That keeps you quiet for a bit, his response making you clench around nothing. “… I might, if tape doesn’t work.”

You don’t even take his pants off when you pull his boxers down with his half-hard dick springing out. You grab the base, stroking it a bit to get it as erect as you can. “You’re so big.” You point out. He just smirks, looking at you up and down. You leave his dick alone for a bit just to take your panties off, as you were already wearing a skirt, the embarrassing wet stains on them being visible for Heeseung to see as well. “You got this wet already? And you’re the one saying i’m horny.” “Shut it.” You throw your panties to the other side of the room, finally ripping one condom out the packaging, putting it well onto his dick. After you give him a few more strokes you position yourself on his dick, slowly lowering yourself on his length. It takes you a few good seconds to adjust, then you slowly move your hips back and forth on him. He already throws his head back, the feeling being so familiar yet so distant. Your walls clench around him every time you move on him, the feeling already getting unbearable. You change your routine a bit, starting to bounce instead of grinding, the sound of your thighs touching echoing through the room. You try leaving out as little moans as you can, but it’s still impossible for you, as it feels so good. You leave out small desperate noises as you bounce on him. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” He smiles up at you. You glare again. “Fuck you.” While speeding up. “This.. doesn’t mean anything. I’m just.. helping.. you get rid of a boner.” You say out of breath. “And it’s working, keep going.”

You ride him as well as you can, his swollen tip getting so deep inside you it’s hitting your sweet g-spot. He needed to fuck with someone desperately, the fact that it was you was pure coincidence. Your mouth parts, leaving sounds that only his ears can hear. “Holy shit… I might cum soon… please” you cry, grabbing onto his shoulders with your nails bedded into his skin. He looks up at you, his hand resting against your ass, giving it a few squeezes here and there. “You’re gonna cum for me? Hm? Come on, cum all over me” He whisper shouts, helping you bounce on him faster and faster.

The knot in your stomach quickly snaps, your orgasm washing down over you with a few loud moans. You cum all over his dick, with each thrust forming a white ring at the base of it. “Your pussy so good, Y/n… I can’t take it any…more” he grunts, throwing his head back more with each bounce of yours. “Cum already, come on you’re... doing so well” you encourage him, and he immediately obeys, his semen spilling into his condom, making it fully white by the time you pull away from his lap. He pants and moans before you finally take the condom off his dick, the cum spilling back onto it. You stroke him a few more times, getting your hand messy but that finally makes him lay on the chair more relaxed, his high calming down.

“Damn it you’re good.” He says while smiling, his head thrown backwards. “I know, that’s why I agreed to help you.” You slightly grab onto his neck, giving it a few playful kisses. “Now should I send you back to your work? You’re finished here.” He teases. “Oh right, right. Maybe I should focus on my actual work, rather than this work.” You say, grabbing onto his dick one last time, leaving it alone after wrapping your hand around it.

He grabs your wrist, flicking it away now. He looks up at you while raising his eyebrow. “Get the fuck out of here.” You scoff at him, cleaning yourself up a bit and fixing your clothes back on before turning around to leave. “Suck my pussy.” You say annoyed while heading to the door.

As you open the door you hear a “Might do that too” and that’s when you get out the door, leaving him a middle finger before closing the door behind you.

Heeseung finishes the project for both of you, and you end up winning it together. Of course, he kept reproaching you that you won because of him, and you got into a heated argument that you just stopped talking for weeks. So first he says he’ll do it for you but when you do… he argues that he did all the work?

What an asshole.

After another day of no contact at all, you get passed a flyer at work, so you quickly read it.

“It gives us immense pleasure to invite you to a special gathering in honor of Lee Heeseung & L/n Y/n to celebrate their remarkable achievement of winning the collaboration project contest first place.

Date: [7th of December]

Time: [7 PM to 12 AM]

Venue: HELIX ENTERTAINMENT VENUE & BAR

Dress Code: [Semi-Formal]

We look forward to celebrating this special moment with you.

Warm regards,

HELIX ENTERTAINMENT”

After reading, you immediately put the flyer down on your desk, covering your face with your hands. “I don’t wanna see that man ever again.” You avoided him for a few weeks, how could you meet again now? You sigh to yourself, thinking that it’s just one day, it’ll be over, and you can continue ignoring him again.

On the day of the event, you buy yourself a nice and luxurious royal blue dress, it’s long and it hugs your body so well. It has a pretty big cleavage, but you know you looked attractive in it anyway. You get ready, grab your hand purse, and get to the venue. As you enter the big ballroom you notice Heeseung right away, talking to some higher ups while having one hand in his pocket, and the other in the air, moving it around while talking. He’s wearing a tight black suit on, with a deep v-neck that perfectly shows his collarbone. His hair a dark velvet and slightly gelled. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. He always wore that dark aura to him, and that pissed you off. It’s like he was pulling you in despite you trying to pull away. Even if you said you hated him, your palms got sweaty when you saw him, your heartbeat got faster and you eyes slightly widened whenever you saw him. It wasn’t because he was your boss, it wasn’t because he could fire you at any moment… there was something else. And he knew it.

You breathe in one last time before going up to them. As soon as Heeseung sees you he can’t stop looking at you. How perfect you look, you elegant you came here yet so sexy. The way your boobs sat in your dress and how they looked at Heeseung first, that’s what he claims anyway. You don’t say anything to each other, you barely dare to make eye contact. But at one point the others leave your conversation, saluting both of you for now... And when you expect it least, he pulls you aside.

“Are you trying to tempt me with those tits?” He whispers. “Excuse me?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger. “I mean, look at you. Who did you come here for? Where are you going after this? Is there anyone else with you?” He launches this set of questions so weirdly, making you cross your arms which makes your boobs squeeze even tighter against each other.

“I’m here alone, Heeseung. I just liked this dress and came here with it. What’s your problem, even if I dressed up for someone?” You look angrily at him. “Because nobody can see… all of this… except for me. You’re my fuck buddy remember?”

“So? I thought friends with benefits meant something else for you. Don’t care what you think about my outfits. Just stop staring weirdo.” You rest your arms alongside your body, before turning to leave. He grabs your wrist, pulling you close to him. “Look, I don’t want to be constantly ignoring you. Can we be just like we were before?” your lips part. “You mean…. hating each other?” he sighs. “You know what I mean. Hating each other but helping each other with things.” You click your tongue. “Oh yeah, speaking of that… you never gave me my raise… or my coffee.”

“What? you can take as much coffee as you want, and I want you to help me with something before I give you the extra money.”

“And what’s that? amaze me.”

“Could you act that you’re my fiancé for tonight?”

You freeze. “Huh?”

“I don’t want you around me, at all. But It’s so annoying when people keep asking why i’m not married at my age.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a bastard? and that’s why you’re single?” you look at him pissed.

“Oh fuck off, just tell me if you want to help me or not.” you contemplate. “Maybe. If I finally get my raise, and some good sex out of you.”

“It’s on then. Let’s go meet some people here, they’re old and rich perverts but they give hella good sponsors. You might wanna cover up. I don’t want them looking at you.” he grabs your waist. “What a coincidence, that sounds like a perfect description of you in a few years.” you roll your eyes, walking with him while struggling to put on your jacket.

“Hello, Mr. Lee, and who is this beautiful lady?” they start right off the bat looking at your body and all, despite covering yourself as well as you can. You feel so uncomfortable with them but Heeseung makes sure to cover you with his body instead. “This is Y/n, my dearest fiancé. She’s a bit shy, so please talk to me instead.” You throw a slight smile while looking at him, his gesture making you really happy.

After you were done with these men, you leave to a more reserved area. “I can’t believe i’m saying this but… thanks for having my back earlier.” “Don’t fret, I saw how uncomfortable you were. Hate you or not, I can’t see you with that expression on your stupid face.”

You take your jacket off while nodding your head. “Wow, what a compliment from you mr. Lee. I acted enough; now can I stop being your dog following you everywhere?”

“Of course, you can leave too if you’re busy.”

“Hey, what about my payment? remember?”

“You want your money now? What do you wanna buy? I’ll give you my card.” He says, pulling out his card to hand it to you. “My pin is 1510. Use however much you want.”

That just stunned you. “W-What no I don’t need to buy anything. Keep your card…” you push it back to him. “I meant… you know.”

“The good sex part?” he says softly.

“Yeah. That.” you say a bit embarrassed now. “Stop making it so awkward, you’re being too quiet for your own good.” you continue.

“Why do you think that? Is my mouth too big to keep quiet?” he smiles. “Obviously, you never seem to shut up but right now you’re eerily quiet.” “I’m just thinking whether I should just eat you out like you deserve or fuck you too on top of that.” His response already gets you hot and bothered, not caring about the people who might be there or might pass you two. You get even closer to him, sliding your hand down his v-neck to touch his pecs and collarbone. “What’s stopping you from doing both? Please Heeseung. It’s my turn to be needy is it not?”

“Of course, it can be your turn whenever. Surprised you’re craving my pleasure when you can’t stand me.” “You’re still fucking hot with this suit on, personality or not.” He smiles, pulling you into a heated kiss, the butterflies rummaging through your stomach. You grab onto his hair, pushing him a little while making out. You pull away after a bit, finally unbuttoning his shirt. You touch him all over his body, barely being able to stop.

“Did you always look this good?” you say, moving your hands on his abdomen. “Were you always this desperate for me?” he smiles, letting you do whatever you want, until he begins undressing you too, sliding that dress off you in a hurry. He slips your bra off taking one tit into his mouth while kneading the other. You let out desperate sounds, wishing he would just eat you out already. His breath hot against your nipple makes your whole body shiver, inevitably making you whine. “Heeseung just suck on my pussy like that please stop teasing me damn it.”

He laughs against your skin, giving your boob one last kiss before pulling away. “Okay, okay, sit down on this couch.” You do, and he gets on his knees to slide your panties off. He makes you spread your legs for him, keeping them apart with his hands. He starts off with small kisses around your core, taking his time enjoying his meal afterall. “This is the second time you’re dripping wet for me, is it a pattern now?” you grab onto his hair to keep him there. “Shut up and just help me get through this.” He listens, starting to eat you out to the best of his ability. Hollowing his cheeks, shaking his head to suck on your folds. He puckers up his lips to kiss you all over, giving it a few sweet licks all over the slit. Once he reaches your clit, he glues his mouth on it, sucking on it leaving the nastiest sounds known to man. While he’s focusing on your clit, he sneaks his fingers to your wet hole, sliding one finger in at first, pounding it into you at a steady rate. You cannot stop moaning loudly, the pleasure being too much for you. He inserts another finger in, curling them inside you, reaching your g-spot easily.

“Oh, right there, Hee. Don’t you dare stop or you’re so dead— oh my fucking god that’s so good.” His hand speeds up, he pulls his mouth away to flick his tongue on your bud faster and faster; matching the rhythm of his fingers. “Fuck!” you cry out. “Heeseung i’m gonna… cum please … keep going.” You lose your mind. He speeds up even more, destroying your pussy with his fingers, actually giving you hope that he’s gonna let you finish. Once you get as close as you’ve ever been, he pulls out and away completely, making your body shake. You groan suddenly opening your eyes in disbelief. “What the fuck..?” you say angrily. “You thought I was just gonna let you cum like that from something so simple?” You glare. “You’re so fucking annoying, I had such a good orgasm forming.”

He caresses your cheek. “Stop pouting, let me make you cum forreal now, okay?” you still look mad, but you grab onto the hem of his pants, pulling them down in one second; his boner is quite visible already. You pull his dick out, stroking it while he gets a condom out his wallet again (Somehow he’s always ready). You keep stroking him, squeezing his tip with your fingers until he leaks precum everywhere. You stop that to pull his boxers down further, letting him put his condom on. He strokes himself a few more times before positioning himself to penetrate you. He slowly pushes his cock in, making slow movements at first, slowly speeding up to fuck you good. “You’re taking it so well, and you feel so good..” You hum, slowly wrapping your legs around him. “That’s amazing… keep going..” you whine, letting him fuck you til you lose your mind.

He slightly moans at every thrust, managing to get deeper and deeper with every thrust. You feel him so deep inside, hitting your g-spot again with his swollen tip. The sudden zap makes you grab onto his biceps with your hands, digging your nails into his skin while moaning louder. “Mhm…. That’s the spot. Don’t stop please…” He finally listens to your pleads, pounding into your sweet spot over and over as you leave red scratches all over his arms. Your hands move up to his upper back, scratching him like a wild cat. He hisses multiple times at the pain, but he lets you react this way just to see all your reactions to him destroying you once again. You tighten around him as you’re about to cum.

“Hee...please let me cum... plea—oh that feels so good please…” you say as you start crying, small tears running down your cheeks shutting your eyes forcefully. “Who’s crying on my cock now? You love getting fucked like this don’t you slut?” he says while speeding up even more, making you squirt on him on the spot. His words buzz in your ear over and over while you lose your mind completely. Your legs shake on his lower back, getting his dick wet with your squirt. “You’re so messy when you cum.” He groans, getting close to his release too. “Oh fuck you… you know you like it… cum already…. come on.” A few more thrusts in and he pulls out to take his condom off his dick. He gives himself a few more strokes before releasing strings of cum all over your stomach. He holds onto your thigh with his other hand while continuing to stroke himself. You look down to your stomach just to see, biting your lip at the scenery. “That’s a new one… you look damn hot doing it.” He slightly smiles at you. “Figured we’d both get messy.” You both quickly clean up the best you can, trying not to get caught by anyone despite how loud you both were the entire time.

“Is this the good sex you were talking about?” he says in a sly manner. “Obviously, if that even means something to you. If there’s one good thing about you it might just be that dick.” You roll your eyes at him. “Oh my, should I feel honored?” he says sarcastically.

You both get out of there, having no intention of staying after what both just did. He gives you the rest of the evening off and gives you your very awaited raise. He was generous with his numbers, that good time really helped. might despise you, or that’s what you think, but he took that raise seriously and you couldn’t stop smiling at your bank balance.

A few days later, you get a text at work from none other than Heeseung. You never gave him your number, so it was a surprise.

“hey y/n”

“Who is this?”

“the guy you fucked 2 days ago”

“ugh what do u want”

“i’m your boss, don’t text me that way”

“whatever, why are u texting me and where did u get my number”

“yena, i just wanted to give you some extra work today”

[1 attachment]

The photo he sent shows his lower body sitting on a chair with his legs slightly manspreading, a thick bulge layering on his dark grey pants while his left hand is gripping the said bulge. Multiple veins are seen branching down from his hand to his arm.

The moment you saw the picture your eyes scattered throughout the pixels in your phone without being able to stop. The photo he took was so damn attractive to you for no specific reason but the way his hand looked, the way you just knew that bulge in his pants was throbbing, begging to get out the tight bottom wear. Still, you decided to be a little cold to him as you always were.

“oh why should i help u? i already got my raise”

“do u want this to be your only one?”

You leave him on seen for a minute or two.

“where r u”

“in my office, tell my bodyguard i called you in here”

“🖕”

You get up, fixing your makeup a little before leaving your office to get to his. After you close the door behind you, you both have a moment of intense eye contact, just to break it off by looking down. “You got here fast. Missed me that much?” you smack your lips. “It’s not like you threatened me or anything.” He laughs softly. “You know you missed me already. Did you touch yourself to the picture I sent, too?” He slowly walks towards you.

“What? No. You’re not all that Heeseung. Your mouth moves too much though.”

“Oh yeah? Then let's see what yours can do.”

He grabs your chin, pulling it up so you can only look into his eyes. There are a few seconds of silence where your heart skips a beat… then in his lowest tone you hear him say...

“Get on your knees.”

He releases the grasp on your chin, letting you lower yourself, finally making eye contact with his bulge. “Aren’t we gonna get caught here?” He shakes his head. “No one can enter without my permission. No one can leave either, like you here.” He smiles. You squeeze your legs together at his words while sliding his pants and boxers off in one move. His hardened cock springs out, bouncing off his navel. You start with small pecks to his red tip, slowly moving down to his entire length. He looks down at you, admiring your sweet moves to bring him pleasure. “You’re adorable like this, did you know?” he chuckles. “Eat a dick.” He slaps your cheek. “Too bad you’re eating mine right now.” You glare up at him before taking his tip in your mouth, stroking him with your hand. You have your other hand resting on his right knee, as you bop your head back and forth little by little. He smiles at you, grabbing your hair into a ponytail just to keep your head in place and to be able to fuck your mouth a bit.

You unwrap your hand from around him cock, letting him completely take control, going at his desired pace. He moans at the feeling, throwing his head back for a second. “Fuck yeah... I see this mouth is better at doing things other than complaining all the time.” His thrusts are making you slightly choke on his dick, getting harder and harder to breathe. You grab onto his thighs, trying to at least make him slow down, but to no avail. It feels too good for him to stop now, your mouth wrapped so tight around his dick; sending him waves of bliss with each thrust. After a good while he pulls away, letting you breathe again. “I fucking hate you.” You say, looking up at him. “Don’t talk to your superior that way, brat.” He grabs the base of his cock, slapping the tip onto your lips multiple times.

You take him in your mouth again, bopping your head up and down faster than before. You try using your tongue against as well, caressing the sensitive spot between his tip and length with the tip of your tongue.

“That feels so good. Don’t pull away.” He whispers. You leave little hums to confirm that you won’t, letting him get closer to his release with those emitted vibrations. After a few more sloppy bops, he moans like hell, grabbing onto the back of your head to push you deeper onto him. “Y/n i’m— gonna cum… hold on…” he moans out, his eyes closed shut. You keep going, wanting him to cum right in your mouth. “Mmm…hmm.” Is all you can let out, before he cums deep in your throat, automatically swallowing all of it. He leaves out a small groan, pulling out your mouth after he’s done. A string of saliva links his tip and your tongue as he pulls away further.

“Good girl. You swallowed all of it.” You give him a little smile, standing up while wiping your mouth. “Might’ve been the best i’ve ever had, come here.” He says, grabbing your waist with his arms. He leans in to give you a genuine kiss, not a lustful one, definitely not. He keeps you in that deep kiss for a while, pulling away only to pull you in again. “Where... is this … coming from?” you chuckle a little, asking between kisses. “I don’t think… I can stand… completely hating… you anymore…” your eyes widen a bit. “Was my mouth that good?” you say jokingly, and he shakes his head. “Not just that, not just sex. You have a crazy charm to you, I don’t know if you can feel it.”

“That’s crazy coming from you Lee Heeseung.”

“I want you in my life Y/n, you can be mad all you want but it doesn’t change things between us.”

“You’ve already been in mine way too long.” You smile.

“Exactly, I want you to be so sick of me, no medicine would be able to treat you.”

“I guess we can make it work… you’re crazy hot, still might need to tape that mouth though.”

“Is that a secret kink?” He laughs.

“Oh, shut up.” You push him slightly. You can’t lie, being his girlfriend now was tempting, no matter how much you tried to hate him, he attracted you more and more without even realising. Every time he was in your presence your subconscious was happy to see him. Your mind played tricks on you, and you hated how much you adored him.

Dating Lee Heeseung, your boss, was one of the best decisions of your life. Turns out he’s sweeter than it seems, he would give his life for you, and you would too. You didn’t need anyone else, only your soulmate and your cat. You ended up moving in together, always cooking dinner together, going on vacations together and just enjoying eachother’s presence. He was such a sweet guy, something you never expected to see from such a man. Yena definitely judged you when she first found out about your new relationship, but quickly came along with the idea. Thing is, Heeseung acted this way with others but he was so sweet with you. He only loved you. His sparkly bambi eyes always stare at you with such admiration when you walk in the room. He can’t stop admiring you all the time.

I guess he wasn’t that bad after all.

———————————————————————

a/n: thank you so much for reading this!! I spent a few days on it and it was definitely experimental. reblogging/liking would be very much appreciated < 3

[childrenofcain-if]

Clingy D wasn't something I knew I needed. For research purposes, how would that fare though, author

the texas heat clung to D as they sat on the back porch of their grandfather’s old farm. the air smelled of earth and sunburnt grass, a scent that had grown oddly comforting in the months since they’d moved back.

the farm was quiet now, save for the low hum of cicadas and the occasional bark of a stray dog wandering by the fence. the peacefulness suited D—most days. but tonight, it was unbearable.

their phone sat on the wooden table in front of them, face down like it was a guilty party. they’d told themself they weren’t going to look at it anymore.

just leave it, rook, calm down.

stop being so needy, rook.

get your shit together, rook.

you’re always the recurring car crash, rook, the common denominator.

but their eyes flickered toward the phone anyway.

the truth sat under their ribs like a splinter: it had been three days since you’d texted anything more than a brief, polite response to a link they’d sent, and weeks since you’d called. three days of D’s mind running circles around itself, spiraling into every worst-case scenario it could conjure. and they were losing their grip. their fingers tapped restlessly on the armrest of the chair, their boot scuffing against the railing.

maybe you’re busy, they told themself for the fiftieth time that evening. new york is a big place. MBA programs are hard. you’ve got new friends now, fancy urbane friends who wear suits and drink wine like it’s water. you don’t have time to call your idiot partner who still wants to live in their old farmhouse down south and smells like hay and diesel these days.

that last thought stung, and D flinched like they’d spoken it aloud.

they picked up their phone and stared at the screen, willing your name to appear. a new message. a missed call. anything. they’d tried calling you twice yesterday but hung up before it even rang.

the phone buzzed suddenly in their hand, cutting through the peacefulness like a blade. D jumped, nearly dropping it in their haste to answer.

“hey,” they said, too quickly, the word coming out rough and broken, betraying how much they’d been waiting for this. they winced at their own pathetic eagerness.

“hi,” you replied. your voice was warm but tinged with something D couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t joy.

there was a pause, one of those long, awkward ones that stretched out like a wound neither of you wanted to clean out.

“why haven’t you replied to my texts?” you asked finally. your tone was light, sure, but the edge was unmistakable.

D blinked, thrown off-guard. “why haven’t you called me?”

the words left their mouth before they could stop them, sharper than intended, spilling out like blood from a clean incision. the silence on your end was deafening.

“excuse me?” you said after a moment, your voice now tight.

D pushed on, reckless now, the spiraling in their chest too loud to ignore.

“it’s been weeks,” they said, their voice rising despite themself. “weeks since you actually picked up the phone to call me. i’m supposed to be okay with a couple of dry texts here and there? a couple of ‘how are yous’ like you’re checking in on a goddamn houseplant? what am i even supposed to do with that? do you even want to talk to me anymore?”

“of course i want to talk to you!” you snapped, louder this time, frustration apparent in your tone. “but you’ve been so distant during our texts. i didn’t know if you even wanted to hear from me if you got too busy with the farm renovations.”

“distant?” D barked out a laugh, harsh and humorless. “i’m not the one out there living some shiny new life in new york city with shiny new friends. don’t talk to me about being distant when you’re the one who left!”

“oh wow, so it’s my fault now?”

“isn’t it?”

the words hung between you like a noose, both of you too angry to let go and too hurt to say anything else.

“this isn’t fair,” you said finally, your voice breaking just slightly, and D hated that they heard it, hated that they caused it. “you don’t get to put this all on me. you knew what this was going to be like. you knew it would be hard. you could’ve just come with me until renovations were done for the farm. you’re the one who insisted on supervising everything to stay in that stupid place.”

“don’t fucking call the farm stupid,” D shot back, their voice trembling now, but they couldn’t stop. “besides, i’m here, aren’t i? waiting by the damn phone every night like some... some pathetic—” they couldn’t finish the sentence.

“then maybe stop waiting!” you yelled, having had enough of it. “if this is so hard for you, maybe you should’ve just come here with me!”

the line went dead.

D stared at the phone in their hand, unblinking, as though willing it to come back to life. the silence that followed was heavier than the summer heat, heavier than anything they’d ever known.

they stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the porch, and paced back and forth like a caged animal.

“unbelievable,” they muttered under their breath, the anger bubbling up again. “they hang up on me? after all this? after—”

the thing about D was that they wouldn’t—couldn’t—express their emotions in words a lot of the time. sure, they could write about it, but writing about it was different than actually saying it. so these emotions were usually spelled out in other ways.

a bloody fist. a slow song. a naked dance.

but this time, the anger burned out as quickly as it came, leaving behind nothing but the ache. the ache they always carried, the one they could never name but always felt. they sank back into the chair, burying their face in their hands.

you’re going to lose them, a small voice whispered in the back of their mind, insidious and cruel. you’re going to push them away forever. they’ve grown tired of you because you’re too much. you’re always too much, rook.

the thought made them sicker than a glass of cheap liquor.

D picked up their phone again, their thumb hovering over your name in the call log. they could call you back. they could apologize. they could beg.

they pictured you in new york, surrounded by skyscrapers and lights, people who had never set foot on a farm in their life and who probably never will. they imagined themself there, awkward and out of place, fumbling with subway cards with their doc martens too scuffed, their drawl too thick and alien.

they never belonged in san francisco. they never belonged in new haven. they’d never belong in new york city.

but they’d go. if you asked, they’d go in a heartbeat. they’d go and make themself fit into your world if that’s what you wanted. they’d camouflage themself all over again like they did in california and connecticut. even if they hated it, they’d still try.

or maybe you could come back. just for a little while. they’d show you the stars again, the ones you couldn’t see in the ever-polluted cities. they’d hold you close and tell you they loved you, over and over, until you believed it.

but for now, they’d wait by the phone like dogs waited for their owners on the front porch—all day, and then the next.

here’s the pt. 2 to this.

[eudaimaniacs]

delicate (hugh jackman x reader)

word count: 641 words

notes: i've been thinking about making pedro pascal fanfiction but don't know where to start. also, i want to make a fanfic about hugh's character on kate & leopold (higly recommend!). additionally, it's almost midnight here and i need to sleep (scroll through tiktok mindlessly and simp over hugh jackman). enjoy reading!

The night in New York City was a symphony of beauty. But amid it all was a void, a longing for Hugh's comforting presence.

The lonely space occupied the right side of the king-sized bed. You missed the long, interrupted nights spent in Hugh’s embrace. The feeling of his arms securing and comforting your worries. The scratch of his beard tickling your exposed neck. Hugh’s soft snores as you hear the beat of his heart. Your combined bodies embraced, sleeping soundly until the New York sunshine woke the two of you.

Yet, the life of an actor demands relentless dedication. You admired Hugh's commitment to his craft, late-night studies, and relentless practice. His talent was undeniable and shone through in every role he took. But the sacrifices he had to make were the hardest to bear.

He was practicing for a new movie and filming will start in two months. You were used to the hectic schedule of a famous Hollywood actor. However, the emptiness on Hugh’s side of the bed made your heart swell a bit. You wanted him to sleep with you until the sun decided to wake the two of you. It’s been a month of Hugh practicing his lines until the night. The long, uninterrupted nights were on break; however, you wanted to change it even if it was only a night.

In your sleepy state, you struggle to open your eyes and adjust to the darkness. You put on your slippers and made your way downstairs. Hugh's soft, deep voice slowly fills your ears. His tired yet concentrated silhouette makes your heart skip a beat. It was attractive and admirable. You didn’t want to ruin Hugh’s focus and dedication but wanted him to rest and sleep with you.

You tiptoed, not wanting to scare or anger him. You weren’t quite sure what to say. You can’t command or ask him to go to bed and rest. Although Hugh valued time for the relationship, he wanted to balance his personal life and work.

“How are you doin’ there, Hugh?” You murmured and rubbed his back. Hugh sighed and closed the script as he focused his attention on you. You softly smile and apologize for interrupting him.

Hugh lightly chuckled and muttered, “It’s okay, honey. I’ve been practicing hard for this movie.”

You sat on his lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. You tried to soothe the exhaustion Hugh had accumulated this month. Even when he was tired, Hugh was still the sweet and gentle partner and person you knew.

“You need to sleep, Hugh,” you lean on his chest and feel the warmth of his heart. The tired man kissed your forehead and massaged your back. With Hugh's embrace lulling you, you wanted to fall asleep in that chair.

You stood up and held Hugh’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. He wanted to return and practice his lines but knew you realized he needed a well-deserved rest. You squeezed and rubbed his veiny yet soft hands. You couldn’t wait for Hugh to embrace and sleep with you all night.

Hugh discarded his shirt as he lay down with you on the bed. You grab the comforter and wrap the two of you in it. You snuggle in his chest as Hugh once again embraces you.

You tiredly sighed and whispered, “Oh, how I missed this.”

“Me too, [Y/N],” Hugh yawned as he combed his fingers through your hair. You lightly giggle as you give him a goodnight kiss. The last thing you heard before dozing off was Hugh’s soft snores. The beauty of the New York night was now complete. The void of Hugh’s presence was gone, and he was next to you. He looked peaceful as he took the well-deserved rest.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ????? (yearners?) | fame au p5

p1 p2 p3 p4 interlude p6

Steve says he's flying out to New York for meetings. That’s what he tells everyone. That’s what he does. He's courteous, even lets Eddie know he’s in the city, that he can maybe, maybe stop by his place later.

But he doesn’t tell Eddie he’s coming to the show.

He gets there late, hangs at the very back of the venue, the nosebleed cheap seats. He’s in uniform, black jeans and scraggled tee. Bit of liner under his eyes, baseball hat and shitty prop wig he stole from set. It should be enough for most people to not look at him twice.

It’s the worst spot he’s ever had at one of Eddie’s gigs, but he couldn’t take the “I’m with the band" seats Eddie had offered him. Like he’s still some kind of accessory. Couldn’t take the c-list celebrity box seats either. Cause, well– he’s not supposed to be here.

Eddie’s a blip on the stage from where Steve’s standing, but it makes his idiotic traitorous heart swoop all the same. He’s only been on tour for a month. Steve wasn’t supposed to miss him this bad.

He’s really not supposed to be here.

Eddie's solo stuff has always been too wordy, too raw. Like he’s Dylan in the body of a metal star. It makes Steve's gut sore.

It’s mostly songs from his latest album, at least. Seemed like Eddie had a bad run in with benzos last year. Which also kinda makes his gut sore.

Eddie plays the hits. It's been years but the ones from "Penitence" cut like fresh wounds. The crowd goes wild for Dead Weight. But Pavlov's got the one-up on Steve. Those first three chords still make him want to crawl out of his skin.

It’s nearing the end now and Eddie drops the band, walks up to the front of the stage with just the spotlight on him. He’s holding Lucky, the old pawn-shop acoustic Wayne got him when he was twelve. He used to strum it between joints in the back of the van.

He’s– he’s nervous.

He coughs into the mic. “Hey uh, um, I've got something special for tonight. I don’t really do covers and uh, especially not ones that–” He cringes, grits his teeth, “Well, this isn’t exactly my sound.”

It was unsettling how nervous he was. Steve could fill journals full all of Eddie’s fuck-ups and flaws (and he has, many, many times.) But performing? That was undeniable, coded into his DNA. Eddie was a great performer. He was never nervous on stage.

Eddie's hands tremor at the tuning keys. “But uh, someone couldn’t make it tonight- a um, well. An old friend.”

Shit.

“–And he really used to really love this one.”

Shit shit shit shit.

“So, uh, yeah. Sing along if you know it.”

Steve knows it. One chord in and he knows it–

It’s Dave fucking Matthews. Eddie hates Dave Matthews. He's the total opposite of anything Eddie considered worthy art. His sound, his look, his ability to fill stadiums with every guy that wears sandals in a 50-mile radius, everything.

More importantly, Eddie’s fans hate Dave Matthews. If they don’t, they keep that close to their chest. Hell, not even– Steve spent enough of his early twenties bopping around dive bars with Eddie's crowds. They'd take that shit to their grave.

Eddie's already on thin ice with most of them.

Steve knows most of them resented the experimental sound of the new album, knows sales are low. He’s heard enough of Eddie's 3 AM pillow talk bitching about it.

There’s multiple audible groans. Someone in front of Steve whispers, “What the actual fuck.” in total disbelief.

But Steve doesn’t register it. Not really. Not over the blood rushing in his ears. Over the sound of Eddie crooning, “Who’s got their claws in you, my friend? Into your heart I’ll beat again."

Truth was, he hadn’t listened to that song, that whole album, in over a decade.

Steve would start up the car, like always and “So Much to Say” would play, like always. But there were no loud puking noises from the passenger seat, no pile of empty, over-dramatic threats. Just dust in the sunlight where someone had loved him, once.

And he couldn't stomach it.

He can't stomach it now. Eddie in front of 13,000 people. Shaky and vulnerable and too-himself for them all to bear witness.

It’s– fuck. Steve’s nineteen and the bimmer’s out of gas and Eddie’s cursing this song out, but his hand is under Steve's sweater and it's warm.

The third verse now and Eddie's crooning about forgiveness, about begging and haste and “Holding you so, boy.”

"Boy". Not "Girl". Unmistakable.

Steve wonders if anyone noticed. Eddie’s not out, not really. But he dedicated a love song to an old friend. Maybe he is now.

Then it’s all too much. Too big for him to hold. The love and hurt and longing and bullshit and near-two decades worth of sludge dredging up his throat and crashing down, pulling him under.

Steve doesn’t wait for the song to end. He keeps his head down and skips out before the encore.

[iluvmattsbeard]

lost time (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing!

preview: your parents and the triplets parents have been best friends ever since before you guys were even born. you were sort of forced to grow up with the triplets. you and Matt were the closest. you two were hard to separate. but as you got to high school, you sort of fell off wanting to go do your own things. now as adults, you guys reunite and decide to make up for lost time.

a/n: i’ve been having so much inspo to write. you guys are keeping me motivated! i really appreciate it. listen to the song while reading, it really sets the scene. i encourage this with every imagine i write! LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

"Y/n!" you hear your mother shout out from excitement as she runs over to you. you put down your luggage before embracing her in a hug, "hi mom! I missed you so much." you say rubbing her back. "I missed you more Y/n!" she says pulling away, giving your dad a chance to greet you. you haven't seen them in months. you were currently living in New York after you finished high school. you always wanted to live in the big city. you were grateful for the opportunity you received. you were majoring in the Arts. it was something you always wanted to do, but being apart from your family in Boston was the hardest thing you've had to go through.

"let's get inside. we have something to tell you." your mom says with a smile. you nod as you grab your luggage but, your dad ends up taking it from your hands. "dad I got it." you say letting out a soft laugh. "no you're our guest." he says letting out a chuckle. you three walk inside the house and you take off your coat. it was currently winter time. that was the reason why you were back home. it was December 20th, five days before Christmas. you were home for the holidays. you hang your coat on the rack and take off your shoes. you walk around analyzing everything. it was still the same, except for the fact that it was decorated for Christmas. you head towards the Christmas tree as you reach out for an ornament that had your elementary school picture in it. "did you really have to add this?" you ask with a soft laugh. "it was too cute not to add sweetie!" your mom says handing you a mug of her homemade hot chocolate.

"thank you mom." you say taking it. "so, what was it you needed to tell me?" you ask taking a sip. "Marylou, Jimmy, and their boys are coming to spend the holidays with us!" you almost choke at your mother's words. "they're back in Boston?" you ask with an awkward smile. last time you seen the triplets, it wasn't quite the ideal farewell. at least with Matt it wasn't. you still talk to Nick from time to time, Chris would like your social media posts, and Matt? well, nothing was happening between the two of you. not ever since high school at least. "yeah! the boys still live with them. I think they're like entrepreneurs or something. Marylou tried explaining it to me but I didn't quite understand." your mom says. "they'll be staying here with us until after Christmas." she adds on. your eyes widen a bit, "oh? you failed to mention this before I got here?" you say with a nervous laughter. "well, I know it isn't ideal for you. I know you and Matt didn't quite leave off on a good note." she says.

-FLASHBACK-

"so what? you meet a whole new group of people that you decide not to spend any more time with me?" you say standing there with your arms crossed. "y/n, we were always together. we're older now. we don't have to be with each other every single time." Matt says frustrated. you scoff before responding, "so you're telling me you want to stop being friends?" he shakes his head, "that's not what I said. all I said was, maybe now we can just do our own things." he says. "well that's not what you've been doing. you've shut me out completely." you say with a hurt expression. "maybe because everything has changed Y/n. you know I don't hang around your crowd." he says catching you off guard. "so just because you gained popularity, apparently my 'crowd' isn't your ideal group of people?" you scoff before continuing on, "yeah maybe everything has changed. you changed." you walk away from him leaving him in silence.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

"they'll be here any minute." your mom says adjusting the centerpiece on the coffee table. you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. you took constant sips from the warm mug as you sit down on the couch and wait. "you guys are adults now. you will figure it out." your mom says rubbing your arm. you didn't hold a grudge against Matt but, you still felt a sort of somber from the thought of what last happened. you suddenly hear a car pull up in front of your house. "they're here!" your mother says quickly getting up to rush over to the door. you stand up placing your mug on a coaster on the table before dusting off your corduroy pants due to your nervousness. "April!" you hear the familiar voice exclaim your mother's name. "Marylou!" she responds, happily embracing her in a hug. "is she here?" Marylou whispers to her. "yes she is! she's inside." your mother says before looking at the triplets boys. "Nick, Matt, and Chris!" she exclaims. "you boys are so grown up!" the boys smile with them shortly after embracing your mother individually in a hug. "hello Tyler!" Jimmy says greeting your dad, they end up doing a handshake.

after they all greeted each other, they finally headed inside carrying all their bags. you turn around swiftly as you see Marylou gasp from excitement, "my baby girl!" she says running up to you, hugging you. "hi Marylou, how have you been?" you say hugging back with a smile. "amazing now!" she pulls away looking at your mother, "April she looks just like you when you were in college." she adds on. you let out a soft laugh before turning towards the boys. Nick and Chris greet you with a hug before having a little small talk. Matt greeted you with a small 'hello' and awkward smile, which you did as well.

"i'm so excited for Christmas! it'll just be like the old days!" Marylou exclaims. "I brought the album book with photos of every Christmas we've celebrated!" "pull them out!" your mother says putting her hands together happily. now, you were all gathered around the couch as Marylou flips through the album book. "look how chubby your cheeks were Y/n." your dad points out with a chuckle. you felt your cheeks turn red from the comment as everyone laughs. "if only time would slow down." you hear your mother say. "I know. we're getting old!" Jimmy adds on. Marylou continues to flip through the book before landing on a photo of you and Matt smiling as little kids with missing teeth. you were both in matching Christmas sweaters as your head rested on his shoulder. "this is my favorite." Marylou says with a smile. you felt your heart ache from the sight of the photo. "you guys were so small!" your mom exclaims smiling. "yeah. now everything has changed." you blurt out with a fake smile. Matt turns his head towards you, shifting uncomfortably in his stance from the familiar words that came out your mouth.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you guys just had finished eating dinner. “that was amazing April.” Jimmy says wiping his mouth. “very delicious honey.” your dad says rubbing his stomach. everyone thanks your mother as she smiles, “my pleasure everyone!” she says cheerfully. you decided to help your mother clean up the table. the triplets were lead to the rooms they’ll be staying in for the next days by your father. Marylou and Jimmy were settling into their room.

“Y/n, get out of this kitchen.” your mother says pushing you away playfully. “mom let me help you.” you say trying to stop her. “no Y/n! this is your break. go relax or something.” she says still pushing you away. “you’re really not going to let me help?” you ask letting out a small laugh. “no! now go!” she says smiling. you shake your head with a smile before walking away. you head up the stairs, walking into your childhood bedroom. you look around at the pastel pink wallpaper as you let a small smile appear on your face. you were reminiscing over all the memories that you had in here. you were glad to be home. you then hear a slight knock at your door as you turn around to see Matt. “hi” he says. “hey”. you reply.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was the next day, the mothers had plans to do some holiday baking while the dads just sat around and watched TV. Nick and Chris were out catching up with old friends as Matt stayed at the house. “Matt! Y/n! join us!” you hear your mom say happily. you walk to the kitchen as you see materials and ingredients laid out on the island table. Matt was on the opposite side of the island from you. “we’re going to bake gingerbread cookies!” Marylou says handing you and Matt aprons. you tie your hair back in a ponytail as you respond, “yummy”.

as you guys started it off, Marylou and your mother left it up to you and Matt to handle the cookies while they started to prepare this upcoming dinner. you were mixing the batter as you ask Matt to pour some flour on to the table. as he does so, you both took dough into your hands as you both talked. “i hope these turn out right.” you say. “me too.” Matt says with a smile. you guys just caught up talking about college as he talked about his career he started with his brothers. it felt nice to talk to him again. the conversation stops as he looks at your face, “wait hold on. you have a little something right here.” he says putting flour on your nose.

your mouth went slightly open from his actions as you let out a small scoff which turned into a smile. “oh really? because i think you have something on your whole face.” you say placing your floured hands on his face, rubbing it in. you pull away and start laughing, “oh you’re going to regret that.” Matt says with a grin, picking up more flour as he chases you around the kitchen. you shriek as you try to get away from him but he soon grabs you from behind, wrapping his arms around you as he rubs the flour all over your face.

“Matthew!” you exclaim. Marylou taps your mother trying to make her look at the scene that took place. “look April.” she whispers. your mother looks up and smiles. “guys! you’re making a mess!” your mother says laughing. your smile soon drifts away as you realize what was happening. you step away from Matt as you take off your apron heading straight upstairs. Matt just stood there feeling awkward.

later in the day, Matt knocks on your door anxiously. "come in." you shout out from behind the door. he opens the door stepping inside. you look at him before speaking, "what's up?" you ask sitting on your bed. you could tell he was hesitating to speak, "I think we should discuss about where we left off from the last time we've seen each other." he says sitting down next to you. "what's there to talk about? you made it very clear that you didn't want to be surrounded by me anymore." you say. "that's not true Y/n. at the time, I just felt like we were always together. I felt terrible for what I said. our friendship was great and I let it go stupidly." he says letting out a small breath.

all you do is avoid eye contact before he speaks up again, "can I make it up to you?" you look at him as you respond, "how?" “well i want to know you better now. you know, figure out what you’ve been doing ever since we fell off.” he says. you just look at him with a blank stare, “i don’t know about that.” you say.

“okay then let’s see…” he says looking at the time on his phone and smiles, "come on." he says standing up. "what? where are we going?" you ask confused. "just come on. put on a sweater." he says walking out your room. after a bit, you meet him outside as he stands there with his hands in his pockets. "Matt where are we going?" you ask putting your hands in your pockets. the snow fall was light, but the ground was coated white from earlier. he starts to walk as you follow quickly behind. "you'll see!" he exclaims. after a while, you guys were now standing at the park you use to go to as kids. "why are we here?" you ask smiling softly. "well, remember our snow days?" he asks. "of course I do. while Nick and Chris attacked each other with snowballs, you helped me build snowmen." you reply. "yeah. i'm glad you remember." he says crouching down bunching up the snow. "we're going to build a snowman." he adds on with a smile.

"this is how you're going to make it up to me?" you say crouching with him. he looks at you as he speaks, "to make up for the times we missed building a snowman." you look into his eyes for a bit before letting out a small laugh. you guys then continued to build a snowman. “it’s head is as big as yours.” you say laughing. Matt’s mouth opens slightly as he responds, “that’s so mean.” you both laugh and eventually after laid in the snow looking up at the starry sky.

“what are we going to name him?” you ask. Matt hums while he thinks before he thinks of the perfect name, “Louis.” you turn to face him as you hear the familiar name. Louis was the name of your childhood stuffed animal that you had matching with the triplets. “you remember Louis?” you ask. “of course i do. i still have his sibling.” he says which causes you to let out a small chuckle.

"I missed this." you hear him whisper. you stay silent as you thought to yourself. where was this effort back then? as much as you missed it too, you still couldn't forget. you sit up, "we should go before it gets any later." you say before getting up and walking away.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you were out sitting on the porch drinking hot chocolate as you had thoughts. should Matt be given another chance? he had you where he wanted you before until he made it disappear. why now does he want to fix things? your thoughts were interrupted when you feel a figure sit next to you. you turn to see who it is to find out it's Matt. "can I still prove to you I want to make up for lost time?" he says quietly. you could tell he was genuine. "okay how now?" you ask. he gets up with a smile as he asks you to follow him. he gets in the car as you join him in the passenger seat. "where are we going?" you ask putting on your seat belt. "some place special." he says as he drives off to the location. you look out the window as you see familiar scenery. you fix your posture as you try to hide a smile, "don't tell me we're doing what I think we're doing." he parks the car and smiles, "come on let's go." he says getting out the car.

he opens the trunk to reveal the famous sled you guys built together with your parents in middle school. you gasp while covering your mouth. "you kept it?!" you exclaim. "of course I did." he says pulling it out from the trunk. "we're going to do our tradition." the tradition was a silly thing you both liked to do during snow days. you would try to get to the highest hill and slide down without trying to fall off. you guys always failed. you and Matt climbed up a steep hill as you look at him. he places the sled onto the fluffy snow as he sits down leaving space for you in between his legs. you smile as you sit in front of him.

"are you ready?" Matt asks, "yes I am but, how did we do this back then? I forgot how steep this hill was!" you exclaim. you both let out a laugh as Matt speaks, "well you know the drill." "try not to fall off!" you say as he slides down the both of you. you shriek from the thrill as Matt laughs. when you guys reach the bottom, the sled comes to a sudden stop causing the both of you to tumble over into the snow. you both laid there cracking up. "I knew that would happen." you say clutching onto your stomach from how hard you were laughing.

"I don't think we'll ever not fall." Matt says shaking his head. "maybe next time." he adds on. "yeah maybe." you reply as your guys' laughter calms down. it eventually got silent as you continued to lay there with your arms by your side. you did miss this. "do you ever wonder what could've happened if we stayed close?" you ask still staring at the sky. "I'm not quite sure." he says doing the same. little did you know, he was inching his hand towards yours slowly. you guys laid there as his fingers were nearly touching yours.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was finally Christmas morning, you were woken up by your mother shaking you excitedly. "Y/n! it's Christmas! time to get up." she says cheerfully. you rub your eyes as you look at her tiredly. "the triplets are already downstairs! come on!" she adds on before leaving your room. you get up and stretch before heading to the bathroom to do your morning routine. you put your hair up as you went downstairs. "good morning sunshine." Marylou says with a smile. "good morning" you reply smiling as well. "are you ready to open gifts?" you hear Chris say. "because we've been waiting." he adds on and you see Nick shove him.

"don't act like a child." Nick says to him as Chris rubs his arm. you let out a small laugh as you nod. you sit next to Matt and he greets you ‘Good morning’.

by the time all the gifts are open, everyone could be seen talking and laughing as you and Matt sit there taking everything in. "we need to make this a tradition again." your mom says. "absolutely!" Marylou says. "Y/n?" you hear Matt whisper to you. you turn your head to face him, "yeah?" you whisper back. "I got you a gift." he says. "you did?" you ask raising an eyebrow. he smiles and nods. "oh Matt... I don't have anything for you. I didn't know you were going to be here in the first place." you say with an awkward tone. "don't worry. I got this gift last minute. come with me." he says getting up. you look around as you notice nobody is paying attention. you get up as you follow him out the front door. "what plans do you have now?" you ask letting out a small laugh.

"well, I wanted to have this moment for just the two of us." he reaches into the car as he pulls out the same matching Christmas sweaters from when you were kids but in a bigger size. "Matt..." you say grabbing it slowly. "I think we should keep up with the traditions." he says putting on the sweater. you smile big as you do the same. "where did you even find these?" you asked looking down at the design. "I have my ways." he replies looking at you. you look up at him and smile, "thank you Matt." he smiles as he stands there rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I have one more thing." he says. "what? how much stuff do you have?" you say letting out a small chuckle. "you need to close your eyes for this one." you look at him confused before responding, "okay? you're not going to throw a snowball at me right?" he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head, "just close your eyes!" he exclaims. "fine sorry." you say shutting your eyes.

you heard his feet shuffle in the snow before you hear the movement stop. "alright you can open your eyes." you hear him say. you open your eyes slowly as you see Matt holding up a little plant. "Matt, is that what I think it is?" you say as your eyes turn soft and you gulp. it was a mistletoe. he lets out a shy laugh as he speaks, "you don't have to if you want but, I wanted to see if we could start a new tradition since we're older." you look at the plant as you smile wide, "of course I do." you say looking into his eyes before pulling him slowly into a soft kiss. Matt drops the mistletoe on the snow as he attaches his hands onto your waist.

you slowly pull away as you both hear a click. you and Matt turn towards the front of the house to see Marylou and your mother holding out a camera smiling. “everything has definitely changed.” your mom says. you and Matt look at each other and laugh.

a/n: this is a little longer than my usual stuff! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! comment what you think about this and if i should do more taylor swift songs for my swifties.

[chvoswxtch]

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear. 

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread. 

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else. 

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy? 

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves? 

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early. 

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

���How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously. 

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again. 

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday. 

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable. 

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name. 

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit

»— if you'd like to be notified of updates, you can find it here! -> taglist signup

»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[goldsainz]

❝ IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . art donaldson x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . smut (riding, protected sex), cheating, reader’s kinda delusional, toxic behaviour, not proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . all it takes is a text and a lonely hotel room.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . first art fic i am beyond excited 🤭 many more to come and my requests are open so if you have any ideas feel free to leave them in my inbox!!!!!! forgot how fun writing smut was, kinda crazy to have my first art fic be smut but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless 💙

[ word count: 1,7k ]

You know it is wrong to long for Art Donaldson. To not have moved on, but your life is incomplete without him. You tried to find someone else, someone who can compare to him, yet there is no one like him.

He’s not yours, no, in fact he’s married now. He has managed to move on from you, he has created a life for himself and he doesn't need you. Not like you need him, anyway.

You tune in for his matches, watch him beat his opponents and then run to his beautiful wife to celebrate. They actually looked good together, seemed like a proper couple and were the perfect faces of tennis. You could not be that for Art, you're too much of a mess to even dare to be as idyllic as Tashi Duncan.

Maybe that's why it feels so good that he’s currently under you, that it's your name he's moaning and your kisses he’s searching for. Maybe that’s the reason why you feel so unbothered by wrecking a home, because if he cheats, is there even much of a home to begin with? You don't think so. 

He’s like a vice you cannot seem to quit. Even when you first broke up, it took less than two days for him to hit you up and for you to be outside his house. Nobody knows you like Art, and nobody knows Art like you. You wonder if his wife is aware of how much he dreams of you, that when he’s with her, he’s thinking about you.

All it takes is for one of you to reach out, and you both throw all dignity out the window. The measly barriers you both created collapse in a second, no words need to be said to know what the other wants. It is quite simple between you two, perhaps in a way that is too carnal and not emotional enough. 

That is why, for some reason you don’t care enough to think about, he’s in your hotel room. 

You’re in New York City, alone in a hotel room that feels too big for just one person. You tried to go to a bar, tried to mingle with people in hopes of making your life less lonely. For just one night, at least.

It is not intentional that Art is also in New York, in fact, you’ve tried to steer clear of him and his overbearing presence in your life. It has been months since your last conversation, which consisted of him saying “Happy birthday” and you answering “Thanks”. 

You go back to your hotel room after your attempts at not being alone fail miserably. It is partly your fault, because you always end up in the same vicious cycle of comparing the men you meet to Art. No one can compare to him, and you damn your heart for taking over and not letting you have some enjoyment. 

You’re sprawled out on the bed, wearing your pajamas and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You consider going to sleep, but something inside you tells you to stay awake and you receive your answer in the form of an imessage notification.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Hey, I heard you’re in NYC.

You

Yeah.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Wanna meet up?

You

Why?

Art (Do NOT contact)

Don’t know. 

Just missed you.

You

You can’t just say that.

Art (Do NOT contact)

I know. 

Are you free right now?

You

It’s 11pm, Art.

Art (Do NOT contact)

So? 

Send me your location.

You

[Location] 

Room 904.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Be there in 20. 

You’re thrust back into reality when he moves beneath you, hitting a spot that makes you arch your back and has you mewling. Guilt doesn’t even make its way through your mind, if anything, the scandalous nature of what you’re doing makes you wetter than you care to admit. 

Art looks up at you like you’re a goddess, a siren that he fell prey to, his eyes shine when he takes in the sight above him. Your tits are bouncing in front of his face, and he has to resist the urge to attach his mouth to one of them, but he’s too concentrated on the faces you make. 

You whine when he grabs your hips and moves you up and down quicker than before. Your hands are planted on his chest, grabbing onto whatever semblance of support you can get. You know how much he likes for you to be on top, loves it when you take control but today he’s antsier and needs to take some control back. So, he settles for tightly gripping your hips and deciding the pace of your movements.

You lean down and connect your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy, teeths clashing and your mouths open to let out a moan when the other does something that makes your toes curl. 

“Please,” he breathes out against your mouth, “Please, let me come.”

“Do you deserve it?” you ask, rearing back to look at him but you don't slow your movements either. 

“Yes, yes I do,” he pants, brows furrowing when he feels the heat in his core bubbling up.

“Only if I come first,” you say, taking one of his hands and placing it on your sensitive nub. 

Art moans at your response and his moves are hasty, rubbing you like his life depends on it. You let out short breaths at his touch, the heat inside you creeping up and ready to set off like fireworks.

He looks at your blissed out expression, how your bottom lip is between your teeth in an attempt to conceal the beautiful sounds you make. He’s tempted to use the other hand that’s on your hip to take your lip away from your teeth, but his thoughts are cut short when you clench tightly around him.

“I’m close, Art,” The blonde doesnt need to hear you say it, he knows your body like the back of his hand. 

It is no surprise when you come around him, a high-pitched moan escapes your mouth when your body shakes from pleasure. Like clockwork, Art spills inside his condom almost instantly after your release washes over you. 

He gives a few sloppy thrusts after he comes, feeling you collapse onto his chest, tired out from your orgasm. Art kisses the side of your head, heavily breathing and trying to form a coherent thought. Though it is quite hard when he is so fucked out. 

You separate yourself from his chest and press another kiss to his lips. Relishing on the closeness between you, he places his hand on the nape of your neck and keeps you in place.

After a few seconds he slips himself out of you. You whine at the loss of the fullness you felt, but he quickly shushes you with a simple kiss. It’s softer this time, sweeter than you deserve and more romantic than you’d like. 

You remove yourself from being on top of him, and lay down beside him. The pillow is soft and comforting, you keep your gaze trained on the ceiling and try to calm your harsh breathing down. You hear the rustle of the bed sheets and then feel yourself being covered by them, the soft touch of Art’s hand when he handles the sheets and brushes his knuckles against your chest makes you shiver

“This was fun,” he lets out, like he just got off an amusement park attraction. 

You can only hum in response, slightly turning your head to look at him. That is your mistake, because once you take in his beauty you cannot stop doing so. It makes you want to do things you shouldn’t, say things that would ruin whatever’s going on between you two.

“How long are you staying here for?” the question takes you aback, do you want him to know you schedule? A small part of you, the rational one, tells you to lie and put this little rendezvous behind you. But the part that makes most of the decision, the one that you damn each day, makes you tell him the truth.

“Until friday,” you respond, playing with the corner of the bedsheets between your fingers.

“Okay, cool,” he says back, it’s tuesday and that leaves you with just a couple days to see the other. How badly you wish that this wasn't what your relationship was now, but you have to make do with what you have. At least until you're pulled back into reality. 

You’re not sure why but the idea of him seeking you out once more, feels your tummy with a fuzzy feeling akin to butterflies.

“Yeah,”

Time seems to stand still for a few minutes, with his hands behind his head and yours resting just below your chest. It’s as if neither of you want to break the moment that’s happening, one that has a close expiration date.

After a moment of quiet, he finally breaks the silence, “I’m glad I’m here,”

You don't know how to respond so you settle for a simple, “Me too,”

For a moment, you both just look at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. It's a fleeting connection, intense yet fragile, and you know that despite it neither of you belong to the other.

“I should get going,” he tells you, sitting up from his laid down position in bed and searching for his sprawled around clothes.

“Sure,” you answer as you watch him clothe himself, intently keeping your eyes trained on his figure.

“I’ll text you,” he says when he’s done clothing himself, “We could hang out again,”

“Okay,”

He looks at you once more, and you swear you see him hesitate when he reaches for the door handle. Something inside you aches for him to kiss you goodbye, to give you that intimacy that youre no longer privy to.

But as quick as that thought crosses your mind, he’s out the door.

Art doesn't text you as he said he would. You want to be mad at him, but you know you’ll be waiting for the day he messages you, and you can tally another clandestine meeting to your board. After all, you belong eternally to him and he to you. 

[yelenasdiary]

Yelena x fem reader angst hurt/comfort??🫠👀

Yelena feels unloveable and reader is UPSET about it

Under The Oak Tree

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Reader

Summary: Yelena has been avoiding you, so when she finally is home, you ask her some questions.

Angst, Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: R asks Yelena if she’s cheating, General self-insecurities, mentions of drinking, mentions of Red Room | 1.6K

Translations: detka (baby),

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x 

October Special Masterlist 2024

The compound was loud with light chatter while you tried to stay focused on the conversation Wanda and Natasha were trying to have with you. Inside your mind, it was full of questions and worries you had for Yelena. She had been avoiding you for what felt like months. Conversations with her were short and sweet, she would come home late at night just to be gone while you drank your morning tea, you even noticed that she struggled to be in the same room as you recently. 

Right now, she was on her way back from a mission that Kate had dragged her along too and although things between you both are cold right now, you still miss her. You missed making her laugh, cooking for her after a long day, bickering with her and feeling her wrap her arms around you when she’d walk through the door. You kept thinking back to when things started to feel odd, there was no arguments that you could remember, there wasn’t anything that you knew of that happened on a mission that might have upset her, and you were sure that if she wasn’t doing okay that she would speak to Nat. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Natasha’s voice brought you back to the conversation in front of you. 

“Uh? Oh sorry, I didn’t really sleep well last night. I might get some coffee” you gave the woman a soft smile before you excused yourself from the table. 

You grabbed the pot of coffee and began to pour yourself a mug, you barely drank coffee and Natasha knew that. “Must’ve been a real bad sleep if you’re drinking coffee” she said, slightly startling you. 

“I guess I don’t do well by myself” you replied as you looked up at her. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, watching as you took your first sip. You debated with yourself for a moment if it was worth asking Nat if she had worries about Yelena or maybe you were just overthinking and asking her might be overstepping but what if Nat didn’t know anything? 

“You can talk to me, you know that, right?” She added. You sighed heavily, “I’m worried about Yelena” the words left your lips and from the light nod Nat gave you, she knew something was up. 

“Do you wanna talk about this in private?” She asked just as Kate entered the room.

“Ooo! Fresh coffee!” The young Avenger chirped as she made her way over to you. Yelena stood in the doorway, locking eyes with you, she gave you a soft smile. 

“I think I should go talk to her” you said to Nat, handing your mug of coffee to Kate, “here, have mine, I only took a sip” you smiled at her before walking over to Yelena. 

“Hey” she smiled. Oh, how you’ve missed her smile, she seemed to be in somewhat a better mood. “Can we talk, please?” You asked. She nodded, seeing the sadness in your eyes she knew this would be the time she had to be honest with you. “Do you want to go outside?” She asked. The weather was chilly but refreshing, still, you grabbed your coat and followed the blonde outside. 

The two of you took a seat under the big oak tree, a place you often found yourself sitting whenever you were free and at the compound. Your hands placed comfortably on your knees while Yelena’s eyes were glued to her feet, silence filled the air, draining out the distance sounds of New York City. 

“Is e-everything okay?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Yelena looked over at you before her eyes dropped once more, “I don’t want to force you to talk to me Lena, but, I care you, a lot and recently, I feel like maybe you’re….I don’t know, I just feel like you’re avoiding me” you added. Silence filled the air once more, this time Yelena stood up. 

“Please don’t walk away” you begged. 

“I wasn’t” she looked at you, “I just want to be able to look at you when we talk about this” she added.

“Talk about what exactly?” 

“The issues we’re having” she replied, kneeling in front of you before she took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this because I know it’s going to hurt you and I never, ever want to hurt you” 

Your mind started racing once more as you looked into her eyes, she was so good at hiding things, sometimes you hated that. “Are you cheating?” You asked without thinking about the questioned. 

“What? Detka, no! I’d never do that” Yelena quickly assured you, reaching for one of your hands, “I’ve tried so many times to find a way to tell you this and every time, I feel like it makes me sound like a selfish prick. But recently, I’ve been dealing with somethings, some thoughts about myself and who I am” she added, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. 

“Whatever it is Lena, it can never be selfish” 

“You say that now but it’s not easy to say this because I know how much you care about me and how much you do for me and somehow I still –“ she paused for a moment, her eyes dropping to her feet so you wouldn’t see the tears building in her green eyes. You gave her a moment to gather her thoughts, not wanting to rush or put any pressure on her to finish her sentence. 

“When I say this, please don’t think that it’s you because it’s not. I promise it’s not” she said, finally looking up at you once again, her eyes filled with tears ready to break and stream down her face. 

“Hey…baby, I’m here for you and whatever this is, we can get through it” you assured her, cupping her face gently. One blink and her tears fell, your thumb catching them as they streamed down her cheeks, “I s-still feel….unlovable” the blonde said. Her words broke your heart, all these weeks she’s been avoiding you to fight her own thoughts, thoughts you wanted to be there to help her through, to give her peace of mind that she’s one of the strongest person you’ve ever met.

“Baby, where is this coming from?” You asked, wiping her tears. 

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and… I don’t even recognize myself anymore. It’s like all the things I’ve done, all those years in the Red Room, they haunt me” she confesses. “I did terrible things. I hurt people. I…I can’t help but feel unlovable because of it. Like I’ll never be worthy of how you see me” she adds as tears flood her cheeks.

“Yelena, you’ve fought so hard to be who you are now. Those things don’t define who you truly are. I don’t love you because of your past, I love you because of who you are” you assure her, your own heart aching knowing your words have little to know effect on her.

Yelena slightly pulled away from you, “sometimes, I feel like that little girl in that room is still inside me. She whispers those terrible thoughts into my ear and… I believe her” she wiped her endless tears on the collar of her shirt as she took a step back from you, “I don’t want to hurt you with my baggage. I don’t want to drag you down, I won’t” she adds.

“Darling, please, listen to me, you are not the person Red Room made you. You are so much more than your past. You’ve created a life filled with love and friendship. You mean everything to me, to Nat and your parents. You chose to fight against all that darkness, to become someone better. Somebody who is so, so loveable, somebody who cares so deeply for the people you love. Red Room didn’t do that, you did that” you stood up, reaching for her hand. 

“You took something horrible and saved so many lives. When you killed Dreykov, you freed so many girls just like you and Natasha. You don’t allow yourself to see that, or to even acknowledge just how much good you do. You are anything but unlovable” you added. 

“But what if one day you see me for what I really am? What if you can’t love what’s left after all the training and lies?” She asks, searching your eyes for an answer. Gently you cup her face once more, wiping her tears again. 

“Then I’ll love that too. Because I love every single piece of you, the good and the bad, the softness and the strength, the scars and the smiles. If I could make you see yourself the way I do, I would do so in a heartbeat. But all of this is part of your journey and I’ll be damned if I let the little girl from the Red Room tell you that you are not deserving of love, because I don’t see anybody else more deserving than you. Do you hear me?”

“D-do you really mean that?” Yelena asked through her soft sobs. 

“With everything I have, and I will happily spend the rest of my life reminding you how you deserve love, how loveable you are and goddamn it how unbelievably strong you are” you smile ever so softly at her. Without a second thought, Yelena crashes into you, hugging you tightly. 

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you” she whispers as you both enjoy the comfort of being held by one another, “you’re not alone another, darling, I promise” you reply.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | @koinsss | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | @marvelnatasha12346 | @mrromanoff | @umadirectioner | @starryskiesandboys |

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IX

—we belong to you and me

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). fluff. angst. cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: here it goes. happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 26, 2023

Los Angeles, California

The ceiling isn’t even interesting, but it’s better than everything else right now. You’ve spent too many nights staring at the same spot above you, trying not to think, trying not to feel, but the thoughts always come creeping back. Anxiety’s a funny thing—how it picks and chooses moments to make your life its playground, especially when there’s nothing left to distract you.

You think about your depression diagnosis from a year ago. It feels like a dirty word, one that sticks to the inside of your throat whenever you try to talk about it.

Shame has a way of making you feel unworthy, like there’s a crack inside you that everyone can see. And Pedro…well, he was part of that too. Not because he’d judge you; no, you know he wouldn’t. That’s what makes it worse. He’d understand, and you know it. But it was that very understanding, that softness, that made you feel even less deserving of him. It was easier to push him away, tell yourself that he was better off without you, without your darkness looming overhead.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. For a long time, you felt like shit. The medication and therapy helped, though. You feel better now, mostly. At least enough to move through the days without the weight of the world pressing down on your chest.

On nights like this, when the city outside your window hums with life, you find yourself longing for him. Wanting him with a kind of ache that doesn’t make sense anymore. Not after a year of silence.

Okay, not complete silence.

There were the text messages, the likes, the little online interactions that served as placeholders for the real thing. But the last time you actually heard his voice was on your birthday. He called, and it was brief. Polite. He sounded tired, maybe distant. You’d called him on his birthday, too, but he didn’t pick up. A few hours later, a text: “Sorry! Really busy over here, even on my birthday. Thanks for the birthday wishes. See you soon.”

Except “See you soon” never came. It was nothing more than etiquette.

Sarah came over a few weeks later. You were sitting on your couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, when she dropped the news. “They broke up,” she’d said, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t a bomb that just exploded in your chest. “Pedro and Julia. Months ago.”

Why didn’t he tell me?

That conversation replayed in your head for days. Maybe he hadn’t told you because you weren’t that person for him anymore. The one he turned to when things went wrong. Life just went on without him in it. The strange became familiar, and here you were, on a Saturday night, staring at nothing.

You push off the sofa, grab your phone from the coffee table, and start scrolling through social media. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off, numbing the ache for a little while. But even that was a trap because almost every post you see is about him.

Pedro was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him.

The world had caught on to how wonderful he was, and now they all wanted a piece of him. The headlines, the photos, the fan posts—everyone seemed to wonder what it would be like to love him, to touch him. The universe was taunting you with his presence, a constant reminder of what you’d had and what you’d lost. Every time you saw his face, you felt a pang of regret, sharp and unforgiving.

February 4, 2023

New York, NY

The invitation had come a week earlier, but not from him. His sister, Lux, had sent the text. “It would be nice if you came,” she’d written, and your heart had swelled in your chest.

“I’ll try,” you’d replied, though you knew as soon as you sent it that you would go. The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to New York, staring out the window, wondering what you were doing. You hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, and you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you. What if time had passed you by? What if everything between you had faded into the background, nothing more than a memory?

The night of the show arrived, and you were a wreck. A bundle of nerves, second-guessing everything. You sat in the audience, people asking for pictures here and there, and you smiled, happily obliging. But when Pedro took the stage, your heart stopped. He was nervous during the monologue, you could tell, but he quickly settled into the rhythm.

His breathing evened out, and he was so…perfect. He talked about his family, about his mother, and you felt the lump in your throat rise when he got emotional. He was always funny in the sketches, but especially when he almost broke character to laugh. You couldn’t stop watching him.

And you hoped—no, you prayed—that maybe he’d see you through the crowd.

When the show ended, people started to disperse, and there he was, surrounded by his family, by friends, all buzzing with pride and excitement. You hung back, watching as Lux tried to get everyone lined up for a photo. “Who’s gonna take it?” someone asked, and you stepped forward before you could think twice.

“I can do it,” you said, and Lux’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my god, you came!” She rushed over, wrapping her arms around you, and you hugged her back, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest.

Nico and Pedro’s nephews followed, pulling you into their hugs as well. For a moment, it felt like old times, like maybe things hadn’t changed at all. But then Pedro turned, his gaze catching yours, and time stopped.

You stood there, staring at each other, and the world spun and stilled all at once. His eyes lit up, soft and warm, like they always had. He looked like he wanted to say something, but neither of you moved.

Five seconds. Maybe less. But it felt like forever.

You smiled, and so did he, a quiet acknowledgment passing between you. Lux handed you her phone, and you took the picture, watching them all gather together, laughing and chatting. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you the whole time.

After the photo, he walked over, his eyes locking onto yours again.

“How…what are you…?”

“Your sister invited me,” you replied quickly.

“Of course she did,” he said, glancing back at Lux with a smile.

“Congratulations, you were incredible,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “I’m so happy for you.”

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were the moon and the stars. Your heart raced, and you could feel it thumping against your ribs. He smiled, a half-smile, and his voice softened. “Thank you. I think I butchered a couple of lines, but…"

“No, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You were perfect. It was perfect.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes doing that thing they always did when he was holding something back. But then he cleared his throat, looking flustered. “I have to go get changed and say goodbye to a few people, but come to the afterparty, okay? Oscar and Sarah will be there.”

As if you needed a reason other than him.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He took a step closer, his big brown eyes fixed on you. “Thank you for being here.”

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Always.”

And then he turned and disappeared backstage.

•••

Later, at the afterparty, you felt like a ghost, drifting between conversations. You caught up with Oscar and Sarah, the comfort of their hugs bringing unexpected tears to your eyes. It felt good, to be surrounded by people who loved you unconditionally. But you couldn’t help yourself; you kept looking for Pedro. From across the room, your eyes would meet, and the significance of everything unsaid hung between you.

Twenty minutes passed like that. Stolen glances, quiet tension. Until you saw him slip outside to the rooftop, away from the crowd.

Without thinking, you followed him.

He stood there, looking out over the city, his broad back to you, the skyline of New York glowing in the distance. For a moment, you thought about turning around, about going back inside. But then you stepped forward, standing beside him.

“This city,” you started, “is so beautiful from up here. Makes you forget about all the bad things—like the rats and the traffic.”

He laughed—that booming, wheezing kind of laugh you loved so much—and you smiled.

Pedro smiled at you—that same familiar smile that hadn’t changed in all these years. His eyebrows lifted playfully, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. But as you looked closer, you saw it—he had changed, and yet the essence of him remained.

His hair was longer now, curling just at the ends in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it. His beard, fuller than before, had streaks of gray decorating his jawline and his hair. The lines around his eyes had deepened, like stories waiting to be told, crinkling when he smiled, as if life had both weathered and softened him.

He turned to look at you. “Hi again.”

“Hi."

“You look good,” he said, the compliment slipping from his lips with ease.

You chuckled softly. “Thanks, so do you, Mr. Popular.”

He clicked his tongue, amused. “What can I say?”

The rooftop was hushed, only the chatter and music from the party drifting up from where you stood. The world below a distant hum, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft glow of green and gold light from the city. The air was cool but not cold, wrapping around you both in a way that felt intimate, protective.

How Deep Is Your Love started playing, and you looked towards the party, a small smile playing on your lips. As if he could read your mind, he chuckled and said, "How fitting. What are the odds?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were under Pedro’s gaze—not the chaotic, feverish attention you were used to, with cameras flashing and crowds screaming your name, but something deeper. His attention had always been different. It was quiet, but focused, like a steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you without a word.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. The pull between you too strong, a tether stretched thin by years of disconnect but never broken. You felt it—the weight of all that had gone unsaid pressing against your chest. You had to say it. Now, before you lost the courage.

“I was debating whether or not to do this here,” you began, your voice low but steady, “today of all days, but I feel like the right time will never come for us, so I’ll just say it.”

Pedro’s eyes searched yours with anticipation, perhaps fear or hope, watching you with that unwavering focus that made your heart race.

In that moment, you realized, you didn't know where to start.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. “I disappeared like that, and I know I hurt you. I was... I was dealing with so much, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t move. Some days were harder than others, and I felt so ashamed. So lost. So sad.”

The word sad hung between you, fragile yet heavy. You could see it in his face—how your words cut him deeply. His lips parted, and you saw the pain flicker in his eyes, the understanding that only he could offer.

“Baby,” he said, the word tender, rich with affection. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming yet calming all at once. His hand moved to your hair, fingers brushing it aside before resting gently on the side of your head. The touch was so familiar, so comforting, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of it wash over you.

“No,” Pedro said softly, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not doing more. For not being there when you needed me. I’m a fucking coward.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. “I pushed you away because I thought… I thought you were happy with her.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through the pain. “And before that, I pushed you away because I thought you just didn't want me. I figured it was better to let you be.”

He let out a breath, stepping even closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I got with her because I couldn’t escape you,” he confessed, the words raw and full of regret. “You were always there, in my head, in my heart. I thought if I could be with someone else, maybe… maybe I’d forget you, but I couldn’t.”

You felt the tears sting at the back of your eyes. The truth of it, the weight of his words, felt like a key turning in a lock that had long been rusted shut. You wanted to say more, to tell him everything, but before you could, Pedro’s hand slipped to your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“I was afraid that you'd be the only person I ever actually wanted. And now I'm afraid that my one and only chance at happiness has passed me by.” He whispered, his voice low and intense. “And I…I think about kissing you more than I think about anything else, literally in the world. It’s my go-to thought when my mind has a minute to spare.”

You could barely breathe. The air between you felt charged, electrified by everything he was admitting, by the love you had both buried for so long. “I was so scared,” he continued, his eyes glistening. “So scared of fucking up our friendship, scared of what people might say, and scared of losing you because… I’ve never known what to do with pain, mi amor. All I’ve ever done is hide from it. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You reached up, covering his hand with yours.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if your touch was too much, too overwhelming. Then, slowly, he opened them again, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity it made your heart ache. “I was such an idiot,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought I could live without you, but the truth is, I’ve never been able to. Not for a single day.”

You smiled, your own tears finally spilling over. “Well, that makes two of us.”

"You're my favorite person to talk to," he said, "even when we're fighting."

There was a beat, a single breath in which the world seemed to pause, and then he kissed you. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, shy, or unsure—it was everything. Every moment, every longing look, every stolen glance over the years poured into this one, perfect moment. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. You knew people could be watching from afar, but you melted into him, because nothing else mattered right now.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, both of you gasping for air like you'd been drowning and only just found the surface. His forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky, and in that moment, you saw it all—the vulnerability, the fear, the anger, and beneath it all, the raw, unrelenting love.

Pedro’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, “I hate myself for waiting this long.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, gripping them with a desperation that made your heart twist. “I watched you disappear, and I told myself it wasn’t my place. But it was. It always was.”

His eyes bore into yours, deep pools of brown that always saw you, even when you didn’t want to be seen. His hands turned and pushed you slowly to the railing, and you could feel the cold biting into your back even through the thick layers of your jacket.

“I hated myself too,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush, messy and imperfect, but true. “I thought about you every day. And I hated myself for it because I couldn’t let go. I tried, God. I tried with everything I had to move on, but it was always you. It was always you, Pedro.”

His lips trembled, and you saw the tears in his eyes—the same tears that were stinging yours. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“We wasted so much time.”

You nodded, your own heart breaking at the realization. All the years you had spent avoiding each other, convincing yourselves it was for the best, when deep down, you knew the truth.

You had been running—both of you—from something that had always been there.

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “But we’re here now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “I love you,” he said, the words a soft confession.

You smiled, face wet with tears, your heart finally free of the burden it had carried for so long.

“I know."

a/n: aaaahh finally!!! these idiots got it right it only took like 20 years lol.

an extra final chapter is coming very soon. i had so much fun writing this. i started writing this silly little fic right after a breakup because i was feeling lonely and it was the best way for me to not feel like that sooo i wanted to thank everyone who read, liked, reblogged or commented, it means the world to me that someone else enjoys something that takes so much of my time. love you all so much!!!

[honeyryewhiskey]

༊*·˚ BABYDOLL ༊*·˚ — bad idea right?

༊ — invasions of privacy come with being america’s shiny new star, but when a stalker breaks into your home, it’s a line crossed. after a string of failed bodyguards, your management hires dean winchester, he doesn’t flinch at your playful, bratty charm and if pushing his buttons gets him to lean in close and lay down the rules? hell, you’re certainly not complaining. PART ONE, your phone buzzes, a text from a friend letting you know it's open mic night at TABOO, one of those trendy underground clubs. and a total hotspot for good music. you're already slipping into a cute little outfit by the time dean realizes you're not staying in like he told you to.  cw, scuffle with minor descriptions of violence, strong language, playful banter, protective dean 2.5k

masterlist — next

NEW YORK CITY 10:45PM

avril lavigne blares through the small pink speaker perched on the cluttered bathroom counter, barely noticeable amongst the vibrant mess of your makeup bag having spilled over the surface. 

you hum along to the tune, leather clad hips swaying along, with your favorite shimmery lip gloss in hand. leaning over the countertop, you carefully trace your lips with a liner before adding the gloss. the finishing touches to your entire ensemble of glittery makeup, perfectly done-up hair and a bold little leather outfit. 

you can’t even remember the last time you went out like this. it has been months of recording, performing, press tours, while also trying to evade the ever looming presence of whatever freak has become obsessed with all things you. 

you tried not to worry too much, especially not when your career was finally sky rocketing. years of hard work, never letting yourself sleep if something wasn’t crafted to perfection, draining yourself of all energy just to make a crowd scream—is all finally paying off. 

after months of cycling through bodyguards, management finally threw you one that might actually stick. you wouldn’t have been so picky if it weren’t for the fact that management insisted that the new guy becomes your other half. a room for him in your house, by your side the moment you step foot out the front door, keeping him as close as possible until the whole stalker-wanting-you-in-his-basement thing was handled. 

the other guys were annoying, awkward, or just a bad fit. but when your assistant mentioned someone who once saved her life—a guy she knew was looking for a new career—they brought in dean winchester. your first thought when you saw him: gorgeous. your second thought when you heard his gruff, no-nonsense voice lay out his rules: fun.

maybe you missed mind reader on his resume, or the loud music piqued his interest, nevertheless dean’s large frame comes into your view through the mirror. sporting a scowl that shouts both confusion and annoyance, something you‘ve come to learn is just a typical dean expression, he crosses those big arms and leans against the door frame. 

his eyes stay trained on your figure as your lips pop, working the lipgloss around. he knows you can see him, but you’re ignoring him anyways. something about this man made it so fun to mess with him. he’s professional, but not an emotionless robot. he certainly isn’t a ‘yes man’ by any means, rarely actually listening to your demands if he feels as though they impose on his rules. he’s so confident in his abilities—albeit a bit self righteous—that it’s fucking hot. 

but fucking the guy who’s signed a contract to protect you, with his life, would be a bad idea…right? 

dean pushes himself from the wall, striding over to power down the blaring speaker.. you give a quick glance as he settles against the counter, arms crossed again as he watches you busy your hands with adjusting your hair in the mirror. you catch his eye roll, “what are you doing?” he grumbles. 

you pause, mimicking his crossed arms and stepping in front of him. he’s definitely going hate this, but you’ll be damned if you miss out on a night like tonight. 

“i’m going out.” you cock a brow. 

dean’s eyes squint, “out where?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you sigh, “just a little club,” you smile, batting your eyes up at him, “don’t worry, you can come too.”

his scowl turns to amused surprise as his eyebrows quip, laughing through his nose, “i go where you go. kinda my whole gig, babydoll, remember?” 

there it is again, that pet name. he wasted no time in exchanging your real name for it, as if he wanted to be the only one to call you something else, something other than what the world knew you by. a name that wasn’t plastered on billboards across the states, becoming a household name, a trending twitter hashtag. to him, you were his babydoll. a pretty little thing in need of protection. 

at first, you hated it. convinced he was trying to minimize you. but in the two weeks you’ve gotten to know him, it’s become a comfort to not have to always be the dazzling star associated with your name. 

you give him a glossy pink grin, “oh, dean,” you sigh dramatically, “i’d never forget you.” 

with that you turn on your heel, leaving him in the bathroom.. heels tapping against the hardwood as you saunter towards the front door. 

“uh, huh,” he hums, swiftly following just a few paces behind you, “this is a bad idea, y’know, with everything–”

“live a little,” you throw over your shoulder, cutting him off before he can scold any further,  “c’mon killjoy, the cars waiting.”

 ༊*·˚

 taboo was one of those places where the cost of entry was either notoriety or looking like you should have notoriety. 

it’s a small club, a long bar zig zags across the back wall, illuminated in a soft orange glow. a few tables with chairs are scattered about, too, but the focus of the venue is the small stage. just enough space for a full band, decorated with leafy green vines and old persian rugs overlapping one another. bodies were already crowding the front, as a band played some new age indie track. it was packed tonight, and between the humming of the bass and drunken cheers, you don’t hear dean until he’s grabbing your wrist, his lips ghosting over your ear. 

“keep your ass close, too many people in here for you to start wanderin’ off on me.” he pulls back, his expression matching the heat of his words: he’s not playing around. 

hah.

“keep up ‘n you won’t lose me!” you shout over the music, a sly smile across your lips. 

dean twitches in agitation, opening his mouth to fire back at you when a booming voice calls your name from a few feet away. both of you snap your heads towards the sound, searching the crowded room. without looking, dean grabs your arm and pulls you closer, your shoulder bumping into his chest as his eyes continue sweeping the space, his firm grip locked around your forearm.

“so rough,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold as an all too familiar face finds his way to you. if this city was having a contest for most douchey nepo baby in manhattan, your ex was certainly a top contender. his fox-like eyes gleam with sly amusement as he flashes a grin that makes your stomach churn. 

“there she is, america’s little sweetheart!” he shouts, his nasally voice cutting through the noise. his eyes flick up to dean, and the height difference is noticeable, making the knot of agitation in your stomach ease up. 

“good to see you too, foster—” you begin before he’s cutting you off with a smirk.

“who’s the big guy?” he nods to dean, brows knotting up as his face finds that snub look he was never good at hiding. 

“new bodyguard, dean winchester,” you answer, pausing to look at dean, who doesn’t even acknowledge foster’s presence. his sharp eyes are still scanning the room, utterly indifferent. the corner of your mouth twitches as you suppress a smile—foster hates being ignored, almost as much as he hated sharing attention when you were dating.

foster shifts uncomfortably, hiding it poorly as he sips from a short glass. “c’mon,” he says, forcing a grin as slimy as ever. “let me get you a drink.” his fingers slide toward the hem of your top, tugging lightly to pull you closer. bad idea.

dean reacts before either of you can register it. his hand clamps down on foster’s wrist, squeezing until the smug grin twists into a grimace. still unsatisfied, dean yanks foster’s arm upward, curling it back.

“hands. off,” Dean growls, his tone low and menacing. with a shove, he sends foster stumbling backward.

 “dude, you’re a fucking psycho!” foster yelps, rubbing his wrist, “keep your dog on a leash, or i’ll call my father!” he shouts before cowering away, slinking back into the crowd. 

dean doesn’t even spare him a second glance, his gaze locked onto you as he looks you over, concern lacing his eyes, “you good?”

“yeah,” you manage to say, though the weight of his piercing stare makes your stomach flip.

“who’s the douche?” he grumbles, the disgust evident in the way his nose curls. 

“my ex,” you sigh, brushing a strand of hair from your face in a futile attempt to cool your nerves, “stuck up rich kid, has never been told no kinda guy.” 

dean’s jaw tightens, jade green eyes sweeping over you like he’s still assessing for damage, but all he can see is the lingering discomfort from having to interact with foster again, “sounds like a fuckin’ loser.” 

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out as you sheepishly nod in agreeance, “yeah, he is a fucking loser.” 

your laugh brings out that smile dean seldom shows off when he’s on the job. his big, charming grin graces you as he winks. 

thankfully, the music comes to a stop as you feel a blush creeping onto your skin. the band exits the stage with a symphony of clapping, whistling and cheering as a man in a checkered scarf and a fedora replaces them on stage. 

“alright, alright, everybody give it up for tonic water!” he cheers into the mic, another wave of noise rippling through the crowd as you sneak a glance at dean. his face is twisted in that agitated confusion again, he doesn't seem like the indie underground music type, and you make a mental note to figure out what music he does listen to. metal, classic rock, hell maybe even hair rock—

your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your name being shouted into the mic. the crowd shares a gasp, every head on a swivel now as they all are searching for you. 

“oh, c’mon, girl! we know you’re here!” the man coos, and you spot a certain loser standing at the edge of the stage. foster tipped them off, probably using his velvet tongue to convince them you’d absolutely love this. 

open mics were once your favorite. you’d slip through bars all weekend just to get a chance at feeling the adrenaline of being on a stage. as your following grew, it became harder to just pop up somewhere without the crowd getting out of hand. but taboo prides themselves on keeping a high profile client base, the kind that might actually be fine to get in front of. so long as no one posts your location to twitter, of course. 

a few of the people around you are already pointing, excitement etched into their drunken smiles. dean’s arms have found your waist, keeping you firmly in place. 

but this, feels like a challenge, and god do you love a good challenge. 

prying yourself from dean, the crowd starts to part, an opening from you to the stage. you lean on your tip toes, tucking into dean’s ear, “i’ll be fine, just stay by the stage.” 

pulling back, you’re met with a very unimpressed glare. but you’re already snaking away before he can yank you back, a chaos of whistling and cheering erupting again as you make your way to the stage. 

you turn on the charm, hips swaying as you flash a bright smile to the crowd. the host claps as you climb the steps to join him on stage. 

there are already musicians at each instrument, you huddle together and decide to sing a cover, something they all know how to play. 

“ready?” fedora guy asks, beaming with excitement. 

“hell yeah,” you nod, taking the mic from his hands. 

you turn, and the crowd looks much larger from this perspective. there's already a dozen little lights glowing, and your stomach flips as you hope they at least post their videos after you’ve left the club. walking out into an uncontrolled crowd of screaming fans would probably send dean into overdrive and you wouldn’t hear the end of his rantings about being impulsive and careless. 

“hey y’all,” you giggle into the mic, feeling the heat of adrenaline burn through your entire body, “we’re gonna play somethin’ i think everyone will like. a throwback to the classics, so join in if you know the words, alright?” 

the band comes in steady, the intro to the chain, vibrating against the club walls. you nod to the count, falling into the opening verse. 

the crowd echos your sounds, clapping and feet stomping to the beat heightening the symphony. bliss washes over, finding sweet comfort in the pulsing music and vibrant crowd. you take control of the small space of the stage, dancing and head banging along as you sing. you’ve already had a taste of packed stadiums, sold out venues five times larger than taboo. but you’ve missed the sultry intimacy of a smaller crowd. how it feels to be so connected to a sea of people that aren’t here just for you. it’s exhilarating, and you feel dizzy from it’s intensity. 

as the song’s buzz dies out in the outro, a chant for more rumbles out of the crowd. you find dean, arms crossed as he watches from the side. a ghost of a smile is on his lips, and you take that inch for a mile. 

nodding to the band, they bring the tempo back up, “i think we can go for one more, right?” you tease, winking at the crowd as the whistles and cheering challenge the volume of the music. 

the bassist plucks into you’re so vain, the intro itself pulling more excitement from the audience. you smile down at them, swaying to the sounds as you dive back into song. the chorus becomes a shared chant, the entire room coming alive with the song. you belt out the song, moving along with the dramatics of the rhythm, playing into the crowd. 

your eyes keep finding dean’s, as he keeps his focus on you. his amusement is evident, but he isn’t watching with the same glimmer of starstruck as everyone else. in his mind you’re a high-spirited time bomb drenched in glitter that he’s been tasked to keep from getting herself into danger. but you can’t help but wonder just how much of your exuberance he actually enjoys. 

the song rolls to a finish, and you’re bowing to the crowd. high on the adrenaline, you’re giggling through your ‘thank you’s as you pass the mic back to the host and find your way back to dean. 

beaming up at him, you’re practically vibrating as he looks down at you with a smirk, “you looked good up there,” he clears his throat, “now let’s get your pretty ass home before i have to break some more wrists.” 

you roll your eyes, biting your lip to fight back a smile.

“alright, princess?” he quips, leaning closer with an eyebrow quirked. 

“alright, fine,” you groan, waving off his attitude, “take me home, cowboy.” you bring up a pointer finger, brows furrowing in mock seriousness, “but the night is young! you’re staying up to watch chick flicks with me and i don’t wanna hear shit about it.” 

i honestly just needed to get the ball rolling on this story, sooo kinda short read with this one but lmk what you think :,) 

tags from ppl who commented on the preview !! @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @kpopslur @ultravi0lence14 @globetrotter28 @what-has-life-come-to

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[reminiscingtonight]

Surprise Visits (Pt. 2)

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Reader

Word Count: 676

A/N: Everyone thank the reign girls for this

Part One

[WOSO Masterlist]

Getting traded while at camp is never a good feeling. 

You’re in the middle of trying to convince Emily not to put dye into Rose’s shampoo bottle when the notification goes off. You don’t think twice about it, or about the way your phone keeps buzzing until you put it on silent without even sparing it a glance. You don’t think about it when the two of you are strolling into a film session, when everyone’s looking at you with wide and pitiful eyes. 

“Did I run over Wilma without knowing?” you whisper to Sonnett, ignoring the snicker and elbow it earns you. 

“Are you okay?” Rose asks instead, ignoring your joke. 

You cock your head at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

It makes everyone else uneasy how unbothered you seem to be about the whole thing. 

Sure, knowing you have only a week to pack up your life and move across the country after finishing up in Paris is never the best feeling, but knowing what is waiting for you in rainy Seattle is a much better one. 

The next day when the pictures go up, that’s when the confusion settles in. 

“When did you go down to Seattle?” 

It’s clearly you in the picture, signing the contract, smiling at the camera with a jersey with your last name on the back, touring the stadium. You shrug but say nothing else.

So maybe you’ve known about this trade for a while now. And maybe you took some time to explore the city before you left for the farewell tour. There’s already an apartment with your name on it, perfect for two, and in a nice part of Seattle. 

It settles in then that you never quite got around to telling your friends about this. 

“Oh right… surprise?”

When Seattle announces Ana’s contract days later, Lynn tracks you down before punching you right in the arm. “Ditching us to go be with your wife? Uncalled for.”

You roll your eyes before wiggling your bare hand at her. “No ring, no wife.”

“Yet,” she corrects. “Repeat after me, ‘no ring, no wife yet’.”

When all is said and done and you’re flying to Seattle with a new medal in tow, Ana picks you up at the airport. 

You’ve already told her she didn’t need to, but your girlfriend is nothing if not a gentlewoman so she’s already waiting by the carousel when you get out. 

You all but collapse into her arms, soaking in everything that’s your girlfriend as she tightens her arms around you. There’s a warmth tingling from your head where she’s planted a kiss, and you tighten the grip you have on the back of her shirt. If it was up to you you’d never move, but eventually the exhaustion of nearly a month long tournament catches up to you and you pull back to start wheeling your luggage towards the exit. 

Before you can take another step Ana’s ducking down. 

Your eyes flutter close when she presses the softest kiss against your lips. You sigh out happily, not missing the smile on Ana’s face when the two of you finally pull apart again. 

“You ready to go home?”

It’s not hard to imagine the messy clutter of shoes that will be strewn by the front door, and the inevitable way Ana will get annoyed and chuck them into the closet. The two toothbrushes that will be sitting side by side on the bathroom sink, one in each of your favorite colors. Your king size bed will no longer be too big, forever warm and always smelling like your favorite person. Of course you’re going to need a new place to hide the ring that’s currently sitting in the bottom of a box back in New York but that’s something you can figure out on the fly when you finally get everything moved in. 

You can already imagine just how nice of a life you’re going to have here in Seattle with Ana. 

And all of that sounds… perfect.

You grin. “Let’s go.”

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Kinktober 2023

ok so i have very last minute decided to write some spooky stuff for October and these are the fics I've got planned for the next few weeks!

please don't kill me mr ghostface - murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

(stalker!Miguel x reader, slight yandere undertones. he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

trick or treat - Mr O'Hara is the nicest man you've ever met. Sweet, kind; he always makes sure to overpay you whenever you babysit Gabriella. He's never out later than he says, and sometimes you stay a little longer for a coffee and a chat after she heads to bed. After a couple months spent silently pining over the stoic man, you're asked to take the graveyard shift - trick or treating with his daughter. And if you happen to stay a little longer - drinks and some dinner with Mr O'Hara - well, who can blame you?

(dilf!Miguel x babysitter!reader. slight daddy kink, age gap, gentle dom Mig. wanted to try my hand at this dynamic cuz i think its hot asf)

M a n e a t e r - Night in Nueva York. A deep underbelly that only one Miguel O'Hara can traverse - in all its stinking, bloody glory. Vampires run rampant, pulling strings in the highest echelons of society and rattling around at the lowest. He's a recluse, hunting the worst creatures of the night. For months, he's been on the trail of a notorious killer, tracking the trail of blood from its source. You're a doctor; haematologist by trade, frequenter of the city morgue, and a regular connect of Miguel's. After a particularly brutal killing; the two of you find yourselves intertwined - bonding over late nights and city lights. When one thing leads to another; he can't help but think... has the answer to this case been under his nose the whole time?

(vampire hunter!Miguel x reader - apart of a halloween collab event! i rewatched blade and blade runner 2099 so i am about to be so soo annoying about it. Dark themes, slight femdom, violence, etc etc)

[calumfmu]

divorce lawyer steve is the loml 😍

could we see him finally meeting the husband you’re divorcing? 😉

Shorter one, but you know--had to do this to build the little universe better.

Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader [part one. part two.]

cw: smut-ish (interrupted), vulgar language, slut shaming, older!Steve, two idiots in love

“What are you doing here?”

Steve stood in your doorway, semi casually dressed—to his standards. White button down, pushed to the elbows, navy blue pants, brown loafers. His glasses were missing from his face, hair disheveled as he seemed to be more dressed down.

“I was in town?” His voice was gravelly, as he hadn’t expected you to open the door before he even knocked. You were on your way out, a normal visit to the inner city to drown out the past few months with partying.

“You live on the other side of New York.”

“Ah.”

You two sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. It was the first time around him you had felt uncomfortable, if you had even wanted to call it that.

“What’s that?” Your finger pointed to a box, wrapped in black paper, glossy, with a single bow.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He was acting suspicious, not quite meeting eye contact as he stood in your doorway, looking like a scared cat that could flee at any moment. You grabbed the box anyways, snatching it from his hands before turning on your heel to go into your living area, plopping down on the couch.

As you began to unwrap the gift, he remained at the door, hands shoved in his pockets. You eyed him, raising an eyebrow as you took off the last bits of paper on the box.

“Stop being weird, old man,” an exasperated sigh left your mouth as he grumbled to himself, not pleased with your comment referencing his age.

It had been about a month of being his client, discussing paperwork, the details of separation, fucking him behind closed doors. The last part shouldn’t be apart of the equation, but one look at him, you couldn’t resist the temptation.

As the door to your apartment closed behind him, he stepped in, taking a wide look at the room around him. Moving boxes were still present, shoved into the corners of the room, scribbles of your name on the cardboard. You didn’t know what he was expecting—you to be living this lavish life in a lavish apartment, but it was home to you. Home to you at least for now.

You gasped loudly, slapping your hands to your mouth as you finally took a look inside of the box. Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane’s, patent leather shiny as ever, sitting there and dying to be worn.

“Steve!” Your mouth was wide open, surprise evident as you were had no idea was even aware of this side of heaven—shoe heaven. Grabbing the shoes, you immediately toed off your others, trading them for the gifted heels. Perfect fit. “You shouldn’t have!”

Giddy with emotion, you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. A sloppy kiss landed on his cheek, the grimace in return as your entire body weight leaned on him. Slowly his arms came to snake around your waist, gripping the skin around your middle section.

His eyes met yours as he stared down at you, warm, chocolate brown with a whole world to offer. In this lighting, you could truly see his beauty, how age only made him more angelic, filled with fine lines and moles dotting his cheeks.

“You said I owed you, so…” he shrugged, a smug look crossing his face as he took in how grateful you truly were for the gift.

“You didn’t actually have to,” you replied, trailing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “The other pair wasn’t actually ruined, and these are so… so-”

“Think of it as an early separation gift.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. Just as you turned to lean into the kiss, he pulled away, a slight dip of his eyebrow in teasing manner.

“Steve Harrington, what am I going to do with you?”

He looked away from you, smiling into the distance as you looked down at your shoes once more, squealing with delight. This was all too domestic, too inappropriate for what your relationship should be with him, especially only a month in—yet not a relationship at all, but who was anyone to tell you differently?

Sinking down to your knees, you were careful to not scuff the gifted shoes, settling on the balls of your feet. You reached for his belt buckle, hastily working the metal between your fingers. His hand instinctively came to your head, tangling in the hair as he gasped.

“What-what’s—no, you don’t have to-” His words became jumbled as you smirked up at him, blinking through long lashes.

Faux pouting, you freed his zipper, slowly pulling it down with the lightest touch of your fingers.

“I could tell you about this Ferragamo dress I’ve been eyeing,” you whispered, biting your lip as you began to palm his through his exposed underwear. His head dipped back quickly, his eyes rolling shut. “Or—I could show you how grateful I really am.”

He nodded down at you, tightening his grip in your hair as you pressed a kiss to his groin, staring up at him through it. A shuttered breath escaped him, slow and jagged, his eyes watching the quick dart of your tongue dampening the material.

Just as you pulled him out of his restraint, a rapid knock was heard at the door. Steve craned his head back, silently cursing to himself as you wrapped a hand around him, moving slowly over the velvety skin of his shaft.

“Should you get that?”

“They’ll go away.” An open mouth kiss was pressed to his head, licking away the beaded pearl at the tip. The salted skin had you drooling, already craving more.

The knock was more urgent this time, a male voice heard through the thick wood of the door. It made the both of you pause in your tracks, Steve’s eyes widening, your mouth half way around him.

“Is that-?”

“You think-?”

It took only one more knock before the two of you were making haste, Steve’s pants sliding up with a jump, you wiping the corners of your mouth. The both of you were trying to appear normal, appear like actual lawyer and client inside of whatever this was.

Rushing over to the door, you have one last look at Steve, him lingering over the kitchen island as he grabbed a random folder, grateful that it had been documents relevant to the divorce settlement.

Your soon-to-be-ex’s eyes were small as he took you in, eyes dragging down your figure. His looks, those in which you had once thought were beautiful, seemed devious, up to no good while he stood before you.

“New outfit? Looks slutty,” he muttered, pushing his way into your apartment. He looked around, focusing on the boxes in the corner of the apartment, taking in every minuscule detail of the room.

“Aw damn, I was hoping for more tramp-y,” you were firm in your words, but insecure nonetheless. You felt exposed as he stood there, nervous that he would instantly know what you and Steve had previously been up to.

Taking notice of the older man in the corner of the room, your ex adjusted his suit, shirt unbuttoned down to below mid-chest exposing firm muscle that had your eyes rolling. He put on a bravado-type show, puffing out his chest like some animal trying to intimidate its prey. Steve didn't notice.

You leaned a hip against your couch, arms crossed against your chest, eyes rolling back as your ex continued to do whatever he was doing.

"Is there a reason you're on my side of town?"

Steve finally turned around at the sound of your voice, pulling his wire frames out of his pants pocket and sliding them onto his face. If there was just the privacy of you two, you would've jumped him by now. Barely looking at the younger man, his eyes focused on the papers in front of him.

"Your side of town?" His NY accent was thick, home to the city you now call home. "Didn't realize that was on the table for the divorce."

"Speaking of terms of settlement, I don't think it's quite appropriate that you're here right now," Steve's voice drew the staring competition that you two began, two stubborn attitudes gnawing at each other. You were reluctant to pull your eyes away from the man, noticing just how cheap his expensive suit looked on him.

Your ex turned towards Steve, hands on his hips, chest poked out, styled hair coiffed on his head. Its style didn't compare to the older man—and he had about 20 years on him.

"And who might you be, old man?"

Steve's reply was a tick of his jaw, tongue smacking against his teeth as he walked up to meet the man. A hand shot out for him to shake, although it was left unmet. Your ex-partner just stared down at it, thumb reaching out to rub against his bottom lip.

"Harrington, Steve Harrington. Representing the young lady over here." Sighing, Steve tucked the hand into his pocket, stifling his own eye roll at the rude gesture. He shared a brief look with you, understanding now why you wanted out of the marriage so badly. Even by this barely thirty second interaction.

"Mm, bet you're sleeping with her, grandpa," your ex's words had you stifling a giggle, your teeth digging into the palm of your hand to stop the sound. It wasn't that his words were funny, but more so Steve's reaction to it.

He had cleared his throat, rather loudly, tugged at his collar that hung loosely at his neck. Obvious wasn't the word to put it, just a surge of an uncomfortable feeling that overcame him. One thing you could count on was your ex-husband being dense as ever, grateful that he hadn't caught the movement he had made.

"Hardly ever professional," Steve answered, clasping his hands in front of him. "Even to joke about, young man."

He was met with a response similar to his original, a tick of the jaw and eyes cut towards him. The younger man hated the turn of the namecalling back, even despite calling Steve everything other than the word 'geriatric' itself.

"I can bet you want to. I mean, look at her."

"Sir."

The irritation that stemmed from the nicknames towards him geared towards the comments made about you, Steve pinched his nose bridge. He shoved the papers to the side, tugged on the sides of his jackets, straightened his posture. Taking a step towards you, he brushed past the younger guy.

"I have a meeting starting up soon," he said, crowding your space. One of his hands brushed against the side of your thigh, a gesture that went unnoticed by the other party in the room, definitely noticed by you. Butterflies began in the pit of your stomach, tingling lower as your skin burned with the touch of his hand. "We can meet at my office, our scheduled twelve."

As you began to answer, your ex spoke up for you, waving his hands in the air as he made his way towards the door instead.

"I'm heading out, you can relax, geezer," your ex opened the door, lingering for a moment more. "I was just stopping by to see what more my lawyer can collect."

He threw a wink towards you, nodding in Steve's direction.

"Better suit up well, pal. It's only going to get worse from here."

The door shut behind him, silence hanging heavy in the air as the two of you sat there—stunned silence. It took only seconds for you to start laughing as soon as that door closed, leaning against the couch with your hands covering your mouth, feet in the air as you sat on the back of the furniture. Steve shook his head at you, running his hands through his hair.

"Really? Him?"

You nodded, cackling at the mess that was left behind by the few words that were shared between the men. Taking a step in your direction, Steve found space between your open legs, hands resting on the couch outside of your thighs.

"There's no way he could've been anything other than that," Steve huffed a laugh finally, hanging his head as your giggles finally came to a stop.

You ran your hands up the front of his chest, the fabric of his shirt running between your fingers. Tugging at the material, you brought his face closer to your own, inches away from each other as you stared up into his eyes. That chocolate brown had you smiling softly, comfort easing the anxiety that had settled at your chest from the earlier interaction.

"Shut up and kiss me, old man."

Steve smiled widely, eyebrows shooting up. Humor found him at your words, different than the earlier reactions given. "Oh, you guys were perfect for each other."

You pressed your lips to his, slotting perfectly into his shape. It was a chaste kiss, a subtle press of lips that warmed your core.

"But I think you're perfect for me now."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time (part 1)

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

Chapter summary: you have always been there for Miles,will your long time crush ever pay attention to you…or not?

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, slight angst

Guys this is my first time writing this be gentle with me <3 enjoy!

“Alright so lets do this one more time, Hey! Im (Y/N) (L/N) and Im one of the well-known spiderman/spiderwoman of Brooklyn,New York.” you swing through the city using your web as some of the civilians took out their phone to take picture or video of you. You land on top of a rooftop before speaking into an invincible camera “But im not the only one,im with my close friend Miles Morales who is also a spiderman of Brooklyn,weird huh?”

comes another person swing by you as he parkour through the rooftop in his black and red spider suit “keep up (n/n)!” Miles laugh as he jumps and swings away. You let out a chuckle as you follow him “Yo Miles wait up!”.

For the last few months after the collider incident with Kingpin,you and miles get closer since both of you share the same responsibility to keep the city safe and life is not easy even after you wear the spider mask. Balancing your life as a student and as a hero is not..easy,at all. At one time you could be in class try to catch up to your academic and the next thing you make up an excuse to go to the rest room to go out and fight crimes, comes back with few bruises and scrathes. But both of you manage to pull through the day,together.

It is Sunday as you and Miles are hanging out in his room listening to music, you are sitting on his bed bopping your head to the song as you scroll through your phone while Miles is sitting at his desk with his sketchbook,drawing. Suddenly the silent breaks as Miles stop his drawing and ask “Hey..(n/n)” he turn his chair towards you.

“Hm? What is it coco head? Something on your mind?” you turn your attention to Miles,notice his sad demenor. You stand up from the bed and walk towards him put your hand on his shoulder.

“Do you..miss the other spiders? Like Peter..Peni and..Gwen” Miles speak,his voice is low as he look up at you. You sigh and nod your head “Yeah I do Miles, but they are in another dimension” you tilt your head slightly “They are out there living their lives,I wonder if Peter B ever have a child ya know” you chuckle,trying to lighten up his mood

Miles chuckle before he look down at his hands on his lap “I just…miss Gwen a lot actually” he sigh as he wipe his face with his palms slightly frustrated “Ya know it is hard I miss her and she is not even from here man”

you lean on the table beside him,hunch down slightly to look him in the eyes,with sympathy “Miles,you know the rules right,they cant be here nor we can be there, we can dissapear and so are they”

“I know that (y/n)…I know,if only I could just met Gwen one time” Miles lean back on his chair looking at the ceiling,in his head he is hopping maybe a portal would just pop out so he could go to Gwens dimension..

You look at your friend sadnes fill your heart to see your best friend seem so down,you know Miles have been missing the spiders ever since the first week they went back to their dimension and for the past time you have try your best to be there for Miles and keep him company listening to whatever problem he is facing. For the years you been friend with Miles you slowly start to develop feelings for the ball of sunshine. His creativity in his talent,he is smart in academics,his warm honey brown eyes that seem to always take your breath away and such a sweet smile..it would be a fool of you to not fall for the boy.

You lick your lips slightly before you stand up and face to the desk,trying to change the subject “what cha drawing Miles?” you pick up his black sketchbook and go through the pages. “Oh just some uh,sketches of..” Miles voice trail off not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Of..?” I trail my question as I keep flicking the pages before stopping on the page he was currently drawing on and look at the figure he drew with such great details, my breath hitch slightly before finish my own sentence “Gwen..” I look at the drawing..a pang of jealousy fill my heart before I shake my head slightly and close the book turn to look at Miles with a small smile “It looks awesome Miles,you really get her smile and suit on point”

Thanks man” Miles smile at you before you could say anything Rio voice muffle through the close door of Miles bedroom “Miles! Dinner is ready! Tell (y/n) she can join for dinner!” Miles turn towards the doors slightly “Okay mom! Be there in a sec!” Miles turn back to you before nudge his head slightly towards the door “You joinning (n/n)?” You shake your head slightly before move to get your jacket and phone “I have to go home Miles,il see you later okay?” Miles stand up from his chair making his way to you before giving you a hug “Thank you for being with me (n/n)”

You smile sadly knowing that Miles need your support more in this tough times of his.. you pat his back before making your way out of his room saying goodbye to mama Rio and walk out the street with both of your hands in your pocket…you cant help but though of how many times Miles have mention Gwen whenever you two are together…how many times he have drawn her in almost all the pages in his sketchbook, heck he didn’t even draw you even though you have been friends for so long..maybe you could try to be better…maybe be like Gwen..?

To be continued...

(AAAA IM SO NERVOUS LEMME KNOW IF YALL STILL WANT CHAPTER 2)

Tags:

@kissmxcheek @otaku-degenarate @matthiashelvarsgf @usernamepasswordsstuff @s41ntf4m3 @bath1lda @jared-oranges @papilioism @pinkprettyroses @marumareloer