#actually he bought a nightstand and lamp to have light in his room to do so

[amarantoestrella]

I had a man turn on the lights in the middle of the deed “because I need to see your pretty face.” My ego may never recover from such a high.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sink, m | jjk

you left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why – 'hair tie' by ØZI

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits going downhill thanks to shitty communication; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, heavy petting, m-masturbation, ball spanking, spit kink, breath kink, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – fuckboy?Jungkook x rock fan!reader tired of his shit XD inspired by the song above and ofc I referenced 'Too Much' ;)

--

You left your hair tie by my sink again.

Oh, shit, my bad. I’ll pick it up next time I’m over. :)

You left him on read.

Went back to brushing your teeth, looking down on the clear hair tie by your sink. It was one of those squiggly ones that were meant to not leave ceases in the hair. Not one of those that could easily be secured on the wrist. He must have taken it out right after. Well. He had needed it. You would have opened the window to get that cool night air, but Jeon Jungkook was loud when he was fucking.

Hm.

He sweat a lot when he was fucking. All over his back and chest, his skin glistening in the rainbow starlight generated by your mood lamp. You didn’t really care if the lights were on or off. He liked mood lighting, so he bought it and left it in your room so he could turn it on when he wanted to turn you on. Always tried to act all cool about it, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he hit you up. As if he actually needed to talk to you in-person about the latest installment of the Marvel universe.

Uh huh.

Somehow your back had ended up against his chest. Somehow his mouth had ended up by your neck and somehow his hand had ended up sliding under your shirt. Can’t stay too late, he always said. Same lines to the same old story. You half-scoffed into the mirror, switching sides of your teeth. The same routine, accidentally knocking the light switch, somehow knowing exactly where in your nightstand the remote for the mood lighting was, and then it was clothes on the floor. Your hand around his wrist and your hot breath by his ear, the fuck you think you’re doing?

“What? Too much?” he had replied with a smirk.

The shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

Fuck it.

The hair tie must have been because he had planned to eat you out today. Precautions. He was better at it this time than the last. It wasn’t that his black hair was excessively long. A good amount simply fell past his ears when he leaned forward and, between your thighs, it stuck when he sweat. You might have lightly complained about it last time. Jungkook was self-conscious enough to remember and pull back the upper half of his hair before showing up at your doorstep. His own damn fault since he liked to plant his hands on your ass and drag you forward into his face, strong tongue consistently and firmly pressed to your clit and looking up at you with those round dark brown eyes of his. He had been trying to tease you but you saw right through him.

“A little higher up,” you had gently prompted.

The simmering waves danced through your veins as soon as he obeyed. Your hand had eventually found the back of his head. Crowning touch and locking your hips, feeling your slickness press against his lower lip and chin. The thought of your juices smeared into his double lip rings. Your tense thighs pressed into his jaw and cheeks. His long fingers sinking into the full curve of your ass.

The ghost of imprinted fingertips lingering on your skin.

You leaned over the sink bowl and spit out foam.

Jungkook had been truly annoying about it from the start. Needed to know that he was the best you had ever had. First kiss was an accident in the way that accidents don’t really happen. The kind of accident that was you getting into his face after he called you at three twenty-four in the morning and ordering you to stay on the line so he didn’t drunkenly pass out while walking home on a night out. He had even thrown up in some poor neighbor’s flowerbed mid-walk. The next day you had gone over to his place with take-out food and an annoyed attitude, confronting him after he had groggily brushed his teeth, smelling his minty breath as you scolded him that he was too old for this shit, right next to his bathroom sink.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes had given you this look.

And you immediately knew how this was going to play out.

The kiss was to get you off my case, he said.

But.

“But… would you do it again?”

You rinsed your mouth out and applied your lip balm.

Not seeing yourself in the mirror, but instead seeing your shocked face from back then, squeezed between his bare arms and tasting the mint of his breath, strands of his black hair against your face. You remembered the way he smelled. Like warm, crystal-clear rain. The residual notes of cologne. You had found it later on his dresser. A square glass bottle.

Calvin Klein, Euphoria for men.

Strange, you had smelled that scent on other men before but he never smelled as good as it did on Jeon Jungkook.

But he did this shit all the time. A little kiss here. A little kiss there. Loved to disappear and pop up at just the right time when you were thinking about him and suddenly you were alone with exploring hands and a smiling mouth, is it too much, and you would reply in your most unfazed tone, shut the fuck up. He would promise he wasn’t fucking around but also he wouldn’t stick around either. You didn’t chase him but also you would blow his mind every time. Like that one instance where he had thrown himself into the wall and wheezed for air after you non-stop sucked him off for three orgasms straight, only stopping because you were done swallowing.

“Fuck… How does your mouth always get me hard so fast, f-fuck…”

“Told you not to question me,” was your calm reply as you wiped your lip with the heel of your palm.

There was no way that you were going to tell Jeon Jungkook that he was driving you insane with his behavior. Maybe he really wanted you to be the one to say it. But you weren’t going to, not with his constant, too much or next time or his stupid non-accidental leaving of his hair tie by your sink. He had shirts and sweatpants left behind in your apartment, just in case. The scent of Euphoria for men lingering on your bedsheets for a few hours, but it would disappear before the morning.

Just like him.

You knew Jungkook didn’t like it that you never tried to stop him from leaving.

“If you have to go, you have to go.”

If he wanted to, he would.

You left the bathroom, holding your phone loosely.

-

Jeon Jungkook looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would let him love her the way he did.

He had a sinking feeling.

It started in the way that all accidents don’t happen. His finger hovering over her name in his contacts one too many times. More than one of those drunk times actually pressing it and then immediately ending the call. And then a single one of those extra drunk times not hanging up when she answered at the second ring. The fuck was she doing up at three in the morning anyway? His drunk brain was too over the moon to care though. His impulses uninhibited and his mouth going off before his brain could keep up.

Then promptly informing her that he needed to vomit and throwing up in some random flowerbed.

Not one of Jungkook’s best moments.

For some reason, she hadn’t completely written him off for that. Both a good thing and bad thing. A good thing because at least that didn’t disgust her. A bad thing because it made him fall in love a little harder. Then she had showed up on his doorstep the next morning with breakfast and looking like a million bucks. She looked too beautiful with tousled hair and that stern kindness. Even her lips moving as she chided him, you are not a kid anymore, you’re an adult, they looked so soft and inviting and she didn’t back away from he leaned in.

His head hurt like hell but he did it.

Her perfume was sweet and smokey and addictive.

He could still remember the feeling of her hand on his chest. Only thin white jersey separating him from those five fingertips. What are you doing? It was his fault. She put him on the spot and he couldn’t admit it fast enough. Getting you off my case. She shoved him and he laughed it off, setting a precedence that he couldn’t stop. No.

Didn’t.

“But… would you do it again?”

She had scoffed at him.

“Let’s see if you’re brave enough to meet me after dark when you’ve got a clearer head. Bye.”

There was something in that expression that dared him. Something in her body language that he couldn’t get out his head. Word on the street was don’t fuck around and find out, so Jungkook did precisely what any man would do when encountered with that information.

He fucked around and found the fuck out.

“Hey, now.”

Shit, her ass had looked so damn good in those black leather pants.

���You think I don’t know what you’re doing, punk?”

He had never met a better tongue. And her breath. He had begged her to breathe on him before. Hot and heavy like his heart, over his neck and chest and down his abs, warming the line of spit made by her wicked tongue. Unseen marks that stayed in his mind when he closed his eyes, looking down to her sensual stare, locking eyes with him as her tongue curled around the swollen head of his cock. Didn’t even need to look. So fucking hot. There was magic in that mouth. He never knew what to expect next but it was always exactly what he wanted. Soft and tight. Rough and deep. Warm tongue that curled around his girth and pressed him into the ridges, driving him insane with the sensations and the pressure.

If he had ever wanted anyone else, he had already forgot about them.

Jungkook refused to believe that she fucked anyone but him with that kind of vigor. She would place her palms on the headboard and ram her hips into him like he owed her goddamn rent. Pussy squeezing him all around. Dripping down his balls, sticking to his inner thighs. She would throw her hair back and grin after she blew his mind, sure, I can go again, like it was no big deal even though his chest was about to burst. He must be special.

Right?

He had brought a hair tie with him last night so his hair would stop sticking to his face.

He needed a haircut.

It made him so mad that she wouldn’t take the bait. She would corner him before he had his trap set and then he would balk under her stare, lips to lips to avoid saying anything. Hand to skin. Lips to his jaw, tongue playing with his earrings.

He just didn’t know.

Jungkook rolled in his bed, wishing it was her body beside his.

Stay away. She was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, everyone said. Road to ruin, everyone said. He didn’t care about that shit but he could feel the distance. Even between naked bodies and tongue to tongue, Jungkook got the feeling that she was never going to need him and that pissed him off. Was that stubbornness? Yeah. But wasn’t she being stubborn too by not giving in to what was so clearly there?

He had pulled the hair tie out and put it by the faucet, rinsing off his face to clear his head.

I’m not gonna stay if she doesn’t make me, he had said to himself, using her soft white hand towel to wipe his face. Looked at himself in the mirror and remembered that morning when she had come up behind him, yanking his shoulder and telling him he was too old for this shit. He wished she had done the same thing to him last night too.

But she hadn’t.

The sinking feeling persisted.

He texted back and he would get the hair tie next time. Next time. But she was pulling away and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like it. It made him irritated. It made him think he didn’t need this. It made him think he didn’t want anyone else because he was addicted to her now.

And.

It made him sad.

He looked to see if she had replied and of course she hadn’t. Reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside with a click of his tongue. Needed a shower. Needed to wash her memory off his mind. Maybe make an effort to call his friends and go out tonight.

Jungkook got up from his bed, holding onto his phone.

-

People were scared to be messy these days. But not you. The world was always going to be chaos. The only way to be in control of it was to be at the center.

Or start it.

You liked to be alone and you liked to be alone amongst people. The kind of feeling most people dreaded. You slid in deeper, deeper into the crowd, caged by body heat and bated breath. The world was darkness alight with neon points. The thundering bass traveling up from the floor seized the heart, threatening to stop it. A steady, continuous beat before the chaos. The other audience members where whispering amongst themselves in the dark. And there you were, standing in the vacuum of space surrounded by universes abound, and you the black hole, catching bits and pieces of their excited conversations, passively devouring in their palpable anticipation.

The music started.

The mosh pit came alive.

You had earplugs to prevent permanent damage for your dangerous pastime. Drums and guitar and guttural vocals. Bodies on the floor and leaning up against yours, even jostling you, but you paid it no mind, licking your teeth and letting the vicious, subline energy burn through you. It was hard to think about anything else. The band was alternative rock but they occasionally covered heavier songs live which was a real treat for your nostalgia.

A phase you never grew out of, heh.

You headbanged along and thankfully the hair tie kept the majority of your hair away from your face.

Not that it would have really mattered here. The concert was a psychedelic and everyone here was under the influence, lost in their own high, too deep into each song, reliving old memories and creating new ones. No one would care if you were sweaty. Everyone was sweating. Still, even with the mesh cutouts on the thighs, you probably shouldn’t have worn these leather pants. Now it was becoming disturbingly hot and you were really hoping adrenaline could make you forget about it. At least you had opted for a mesh long-sleeve shirt and loose crop top with the band’s logo on your upper half. Plus, you learned from last time – a skimpy black swimsuit top under instead of a bra.

Moisture-wicking, check.

“Nice jewelry.”

“Thanks,” was your quick reply between songs. They were talking about your tangle of silver bracelets and chain necklaces, you assumed. You did not really want to engage anyone too much. Rock bands tended to attract a lot of unsavory men. You never knew who you were amongst unless you trusted too much, so it was better to be distant and vigilant.

You tensed during the interlude as the band took a break.

“Are you by yourself? Me too.”

It was years of unfortunate experience that made you relax, because now you could tell the difference between someone you could hurt and someone that could hurt you. You didn’t check your phone when it vibrated while you spoke to the man who approached you. You could feel it and your cardholder practically glued to your hip in these tight leather pants. You weren’t going to get pickpocketed without a fight. But that wasn’t what this was. The guy was calm. Young face with an oddly wise aura. Seemed a little nervous. He was cute in a shy way.

Reminded you of someone.

Intimidating with his broad shoulders and all-black fit. Black hair swept over his forehead and soft dark eyes so large that they reminded you of boba pearls. You got him to smile easily. He had a brilliant, stunning smile. Apparently, he was supposed to meet a date and they flaked on him. It could have been a fabricated story, but he seemed genuine in the way he described it. Since he had already paid, he had decided to stick around. Noticed you because, unlike everyone else tightly packed in their groups, you thrashed alone. He said he was surprised that you had come alone. Even more surprised when you clarified that you had wanted to come alone.

“Well, big bad lone wolves like me can protect timid chipmunks like you, hm?” you joked.

After all, the world didn’t stop revolving just because Jeon Jungkook didn’t try hard enough.

That made him laugh and you let him enjoy the night with you. Even without knowing someone deeply, there was just something about enjoying music together that was its own intense experience. Bonded by bass and beating hearts, by the winded lightheadedness of whipping your heads too hard, by melodies that reminded you of darker times that made you stronger now, strong enough to be alone and casually with another, impulsively letting this strange wrap his arms around your legs and lift you so you could blow your lungs out and go hoarse during the last song.

You didn’t even feel your phone vibrate again because the bass was too fucking intense.

You bounced off that broad shoulder as the lights went down, laughing manically, electricity still simmering in your veins.

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” the handsome stranger was chuckling. “You’re insane.”

It was, and you took it as such, a compliment.

You didn’t see Jeon Jungkook’s double text until you pulled out your phone to get this guy’s number.

Hey.

I see you.

A strange feeling. But you did as you intended and broke away, not lingering as the rest of the crowd filed out. You weren’t sure if this annoyed new guy, and at the moment you didn’t really care. Life, after all, was not a fairy tale. You wouldn’t have linked up tonight anyway, with or without Jungkook’s texts. The concert had been set in was a small venue next to a bar. People were either going through the side door or through the bar to keep the night going. You also followed towards the bar because you needed to get to the main street to get to the train.

If Jungkook had seen you, he must have brought tickets as well.

You hadn’t thought to even ask him.

You texted back.

You still see me?

Yeah.

You raised your eyebrows at the immediate answer, breaking out the crowd and moving towards the wall. You didn’t, however, look up. You weren’t about to give that satisfaction. Checked the time and the train schedule. Hm. You debated on whether or not to entertain this bullshit.

You look really good. Love your hair like that.

It took effort to not roll your eyes. Thing is, he could just approach you right now. The crowd was thinning out, but you ignored everybody and stayed glued to your phone. The only reason he wasn’t, then, was because he must be with others, which meant for some reason he didn’t want them to know that he was talking to you right now.

And.

That shit really pissed you off.

You cocked an eyebrow.

Come get your hair tie.

One of those times where you actually wanted to be left on read.

But he disappointed you.

Your place or mine?

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and dropped your hand, shoving your phone into your leather pants. Didn’t bother looking around. Just started walking out the door, thinking about the fastest route to the train station. Huh. Twenty-first century and Jeon Jungkook was out here thinking only guys like him could be fuckboys. You pushed through the smoked glass, out into the cool night and bustling street lit up with streetlamps and neon signs. Maybe you should have followed that stranger tonight. No. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t right. You shook your head at no one, whipping your hair about your shoulders, and began your brisk walk, Jeon Jungkook on your brain.

Fucking idiot.

-

He realized it too late.

The top of her hair had been pulled back, half-up, half-down, with wisps of bangs around her face, and he recognized those black leather pants, damn, her ass looks so good, and then he still didn’t get it as her shoulders slumped. She completely ignored his reply, walking out instead.

Ten minutes and then it hit him.

Come get your hair tie.

Fuck.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yup, bye.”

“Yah, Jeon–”

He didn’t even wait to hear his name being called, instead jumping over the chairs in haste and one beat away from running, just now realizing how fucking stupid he was. His heart fluttering as he knew a little piece of him was with her, but he was also mad. One of his friends had suggested the concert thing earlier tonight, and they had arrived late, staying in the back with their beers and enjoying the music. It had been a small, dark venue, but it suited the band and their heavy sound. Jungkook thought he had been going a little crazy, thinking about her all night with a drink in his hand, so crazy that he thought he had seen her silhouette towards the front. Thought he recognized that flying hair and rocking shoulders, but, no way, right? Then that same girl was lifted onto a shoulder and bouncing with her hand held high.

Devil horns and everything.

Whoever it was tipped her head back and Jungkook swore he recognized that back and those body proportions. Then her hoarse voice entered the meld of screams and instruments and boosted bass.

And he knew.

She was with someone.

Someone that wasn’t him.

He wanted to remind her. Remind her it was him that held her last night, remind her it was his mouth between her legs and his hands on her ass, but mostly he just wanted to remind himself. He wanted to know who it was that she was with but she had emerged from the doors alone. Weird. It made him feel a little better though. Selfish, Jungkook knew, but so he was. He had stayed were he was, at a table with his friends, out of her sight, but she didn’t even look up. Really. She was willing to make him feel all kinds of fucked up and not willing to even look the fuck up.

Okay.

Come get your hair tie.

Yeah, okay. Okay, she wanted to use him. Fine. Fine, he was cool with that. But she left him on read. In fact, he watched her not look back and leave. Wow. And then it hit him and now he was running in the night, past flooding pools of light and wishing to catch a glimpse of mesh sleeves or black leather pants or even those heavy black boots with silver metal heel. Now he was throwing himself onto the train and trying to remember which one was her stop, wondering why he didn’t see the invitation for what it was. Now time was a thief stealing away the perfect moment and he was chastising himself for not chasing that feeling that he wasn’t so sure about.

-

You pulled the clear hair tie out of your ponytail. The squiggly kind that was meant not to leave ceases in the hair. The strands still ended up wild from the headbanging and the windy night. You ran your fingers through it haphazardly, annoyed when your fingers caught a snag. Scowling at your bathroom mirror as you untangled the strands and wondered why the fuck you ever let Jeon Jungkook get in your brain and drive you insane.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

Your body was still on a high from the concert. Nerves alight, senses simulated, emotions caught in a rollercoaster. You yanked your clear earplugs out and cleaned them off in your bathroom sink, patting them dry with your hand towel and leaving them next to the hair tie.

You looked down at it.

Should throw it away.

Your hand reached out and then there were three loud thumps at your apartment door.

You jerked and backtracked, surrounded by no light except for the one from the bathroom. It was a short walk. You had to step past your heavy black boots, careful not to stub your toe on the metal heel, and peered through the peephole, seeing a large dark brown eyeball because Jeon Jungkook was too damn close to your door.

You yanked it open.

“The fuck–”

And froze.

He was panting, slightly hunched over. Wearing a black racer jacket with white stripes. It lay half off one shoulder, exposing the black tank top underneath and a peek of his right arm tattoos. Slate blue jeans with slight rips on one knee and black boots, but none of that made you stop and stare, not even his furrowed brow and annoyed expression.

“You cut your hair,” you beathed.

It was fresh. Sides cut short, with the top layer long enough to touch his brows. Currently half swept back, probably from running around. A few strands fell by his dark eyes, additional shadows to this harrowed tension. You backed up. He stepped in, one hand catching the doorframe.

Jungkook glared at you and you felt none of that fake frostiness.

“Yeah, I had a hair appointment today,” he huffed. “I didn’t come for the damn hair tie.”

It was all piling together. The moments of hands around each other’s waist, around his wrist, around his hard cock with his low voice in your ear. Don’t stop. The things unsaid and not said. The nights with him and the mornings without him. Backing away from Calvin Klein’s Euphoria still clinging to your sheets. Alone. The music of your youth, hard and rough and full of anger. The strength of a stranger and the cold air of the night, and suddenly you felt alive, alive and needing answers and fucking pissed off at all the shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

You let him in your apartment, but not in your space.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” you accused.

The door fell shut.

Jungkook cocked his head. Dark eyes finding yours, cornering you with his gaze. You locked stares and did not back down. “Where else you gonna go but home?” he shot back.

You narrowed your own eyes and didn’t bite your tongue.

“How would a guy like you know what home even means?”

-

Goddamn, the one always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

He stopped moving forward.

But his heart was racing fast, remembering all the moments piling together. Lips to lips, hips to hips, and how tightly she held him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go. Not falling for any of the traps he set but drawing him closer and closer each time with that look in her eyes. Alone. Trying to forget how it felt to be held by her even through it was the most secure he had ever been.

Thinking about it now, maybe too much.

His voice wavered in the darkness between them.

“But, would you do it again?”

She paused at his question. Those eyes seemed a little less shadowy, a little less space between them but only for this second. Kept her hands by her sides though, not reaching out to him.

“How much of this was a lie?” she quietly asked.

He answered honestly.

“None of it.”

She scrutinized him. He stayed an open book. Mostly because he didn’t know any other way to cover up except run, can’t stay too late, didn’t know what was the right thing to do when clearly he had done so much wrong, didn’t know how this was going to end but Jungkook damn well knew this was gonna fuck him up for his whole life.

Silence.

That sinking feeling.

“You have time to spend?” she finally asked.

-

“Yeah.”

Must be a dream.

You closed the distance, trying to stay awake, watching his eyes. Waiting for Jungkook to run, as he did so many times before. He always had somewhere to be that wasn’t here. Following his dark brown eyes, the memory of his taste on your tongue, breathing in the clean scent of Euphoria, closer, body heat radiating off him, and Jungkook bit his lip, causing the two silver lip rings to catch what little light there was, like punctured stars in the darkness between you and him.

His lashes lowered.

You looked at him, unfazed.

Raised your hand.

Placed five fingertips on his black top. Thin jersey fabric between skin to skin, and you walked them up his chest, staring into the windows of his soul to find the truth. Your lips formed his name, but made no sound. His own followed suit, breathing your name under a tense exhale, not yet moving, shivering as your middle finger traced his chain necklace.

“You never have time to spend,” you murmured, your breath against his jaw.

He lowered his head, gaze flickering away. Then back, mumbling even though he meant it.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

Opened your mouth to chastise him, but all that came out was an exasperated chuckle.

“Don’t do it again.”

You pressed your lips against his.

Jungkook stole your breath and sank into you.

Your hand pressed into his chest and his arms slid around your waist. His fingers splayed out under your crop top, pressing the slinky micro-mesh against your skin and sending a tingling sensation up your spine. He tasted like haste and hunger. Warmth spreading out, squeezing your torso between leather-covered arms, gasping when your tongue flickered against his lips. Slow. Teasing. Dragging it out. Your other hand slid under his jacket, grasping the small of his waist and digging your nails in. He winced, a small whimper, then tried to cover it up by pulling back slightly, but your tongue remained, sliding out further between his open lips.

Your eyes cracked open to see Jungkook’s lashes flutter, his hot moan warming your lips.

“F… Fuck…”

Your tongue retreated.

Exhaled, giving it the weight that made it drift over his neck and chin. He sucked in a sharp inhale, opening his eyes too. A stand-off. His thighs pressed against your thighs. His erection was straining, even in his jeans. You traced your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, seeing him track the movement with bated breath, smiling slightly as his cock twitched.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you not?”

You cocked one shoulder, smirking with the tip of your tongue at the edge of your teeth. “Why?”

The faintest of eye rolls. “You don’t suck my dick unless I shower first. And I haven’t showered yet.”

“That really sucks,” you hummed.

With just the correct about of intonation hat you had no sympathy. Especially since your hand was sliding over his ass to follow the line of his hip and then further down, hooking your thumb over the waistband of his jeans and molding your other four fingers around the unforgiving bulge. You heard him bite back a sound, pressing his biceps against you in warning, but you merely smiled, leaning forward to graze your lips against his cheek and jaw.

His cock pulsed strongly in your grip as you whispered into his ear.

Low and hot.

“That really sucks.”

Jungkook made a noise between a whimper and a growl.

But you didn’t care, pressing your breasts against his muscular chest. You knew he could feel your lack of bra through the layers of fabric, the confusion spreading over his facial features as you backed up. There was something there, his brain was working that out, but the swimsuit fabric was thin and your hard nipples were large enough for him to barely feel if he really flexed his pecs.

You unbuttoned his jeans.

He didn’t stop you because he would be crazy to.

The tension so tight that neither of you were breathing.

You grinned.

And yanked his underwear and jeans down at the same time.

You probably wouldn’t have tried this shit if it was someone else. Jungkook was habitual creature. The kind where he kept a small tube of hand sanitizer on him at all times, and you would catch him using it all the time, so absentmindedly that it seemed to have become second nature. He would do it after getting off the train. Walking aimlessly. Standing at your front door as you opened it, rubbing his hands together and directly looking at you, cocking an eyebrow.

The first time you noticed this action you thought he was being a creep before you realized it was hand sanitizer he was putting back into his pocket. He was not, in fact, imitating eccentric cartoon villain behavior. Had you in the first half, not gonna lie.

“What?”

It had been a pointed what at that time.

This time it was a sexually charged and gravelly, “What…?”

You squatted down and took his right hand, turning it palm up. Opened your mouth and drenched saliva all over his palm and fingers, the clean citrus scent of his hand sanitizer hitting your nose, hearing him hiss and feeling him tense. The tendons of his wrist stood out, black ink of his tattoos creeping out under the sleeve of the leather jacket. Your tongue lingered against the texture of his calluses along the top of his palm.

Guess he had been working out his frustrations.

“F-Fuck!”

You wrapped his spit-covered hand around his stiff length. Instinct and arousal and the slippery, tight, pleasurable sensation beat out any protest he had about what was happening, firmly and quickly jacking himself off right in front of your face. You calmly watched the glossy, swollen head pop in and out between his tightened fingers. All colors were desaturated due to the dark apartment. Didn’t matter. You had seen it enough times to know what he looked like.

You looked up.

Jungkook was looking down, gasping, the visible strain making his shoulders tremble. Jaw clenched, dark irises glassy, you’re so fucking pretty, shit, and you stuck out your tongue, enjoying the power. He shuddered, gripping himself tighter. Using your left hand, you hooked a thumb under the hem of your shirts, pushing them up, up, over your barely-covered breasts, revealing your hard nipples straining against the tiny black bikini top.

Those large brown eyes went wide, his lips parting.

“Oh, fuck…”

You used your right hand to shove the thin fabric away, scooping your breasts closer together to give him a good view, securing your left hand against your shoulder, easily holding the bunched-up fabric. Grinned, not hiding how pleased you were at his reaction. You lowered your right knee to the ground, stabilizing yourself.

And, now that your right hand was free, you reached forward and smacked his balls.

His black hair whipped in the air as his head snapped back, moaning sharply at the sudden impact. You slapped them again, and again. It was slightly slick from your own spit. Fast and firm. Not hard, since Jungkook hadn’t quite expressed the level he wanted yet, but then his head fell forward, erratic gasps and pupils blown out, squeezing the head of his cock hard, his entire body shaking.

“Harder,” he groaned out, depraved and deep.

You did as you were told, smacking harder and spreading out the hit over the entire area, keeping yourself exposed for him.

“Fuck… f-fuck…”

It was loud, lewd, and wet. His hand moving fast, and your fingertips repeatedly punishing his balls, his hips shaking in ecstasy. The scent of sex mixing with his crisp cologne, deliciously dirtying it. He turned his hand so it was palm up, knuckles down. You spat on his closed fingers and Jungkook moaned even louder, tipping his head back, sweat glistening along his throat.

Spit dripping down.

A bit of a mess, truly.

His head snapped back, fucked-out gaze, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Can… Can you breathe on me…?”

You leaned forward and parted your lips. Keeping eye contact, sliding your tongue out, and exhaled. Slow, heavy, saturated with warmth, leisurely drifting over his fast, tight grip on his hard cock. His eyes squeezed shut, drawn-out groan thundering in his chest. You did it again and his eyes opened, rolling back slightly, his lashes fluttering. You increased the pressure on his balls. The sharp smacks getting louder, wet thrusts, sensual sighs mixing with his desperate whine, and Jungkook tipped his hips down, fixated on watching himself cum onto your tongue and down your throat.

Hot, thick streaks.

You tilted your head back, drinking his orgasm down as you locked eyes with him, electric bliss simmering through your veins. His short black hair was damp with sweat. The strange feeling came back again, somewhere between a dream and reality, yet unmistakable clarity.

Fuck.

You were both sinking.

Shit.

-

“Don’t stop.”

To be honest, Jungkook didn’t like missionary for the sheer reason that she was too damn powerful in this position. Face too damn pretty. Tits too damn perfect. Legs on his shoulders letting him get too damn deep, soft thighs against his hard abs, pussy clenching around every centimeter of his length and not letting up, her hips smacking up every time he thrust down. Okay. It just felt too fucking good. It was a damn problem. He had to grind his teeth and fuck hard so he could slow down and not cum too fast. One would think the second orgasm would be difficult to reach, but one would be fucking wrong. His was rock-hard once she was naked and even harder when she dipped her fingers into her wet pussy to smear her juices over the throbbing head of his cock before he rolled the condom down.

“Are you a virgin or what – fuck!”

She was giving him that smug smirk of hers.

It both pissed him off and made him so damn happy.

A bitch faking it would be imitating shitty porn right now. That was why he never did missionary with any other women before her. It just made him limp. Better it hit it from the back and not have to look at their faces.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

“Always a virgin, only for you,” she snickered.

“I feel so fucking special,” Jungkook growled back, emphasizing each word by pounding her into the mattress.

He did, though.

Somewhere between dream and reality. That strange feeling as he watched her hands grip her pillows, her features softening as she fell into the pleasure, smacking her hips into his, their breathless moans blending together, primal harmony, and he knew he was well and truly fucked because instead of only drowning in the physical sensations of shoving his cock into that tight, wet hole, Jungkook was thinking about how he would wake up and bury his face in her hair the next morning, inhaling the scent of her sweet and smokey perfume, hoping other people could smell her on him, thinking about how lovely it would be to look over and see those eyes roaming over his face, every day and every night.

Well.

Shit.

She clenched around him particularly hard and Jungkook snapped out of his daydream.

Back into his lustful nightdream.

“Harder,” she hissed out, narrowing her eyes.

He was going to gasp, fuck you, but he was doing that already and there was no time to think because she sank lower into the mattress, angling her hips ever-so-slightly, and it was so deep, so good, so tight, losing his mind. Sweat dripping down his chest. He tucked his head back, trying not to get it all over her, bending his elbows and locking his muscles, driving his back and hips into his thrust, bending her in half and neither of them could breathe, closer, clawing up to the high, fast and intense and coiling tight in his chest, sinking down, down, deep down.

Airless.

His orgasm crashed into him so hard that his arms almost gave out.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

He was sure that the noise that came out of him was not one he wanted to be self aware of. Something between a choked groan and whining moan, lost in the pulsating walls shivering against his jerking cock, wave after wave burning through him. The high seared him like electricity and the aftermath was layers of sparks building over his skin, tingling nerves and forgetting about anything else, suspended in this feeling.

Then his muscles screamed from fatigue and Jungkook realized his back was alarmingly sweaty.

“A… ah, hah…”

She plucked the white hand towel from her nightstand and flung it over his shoulder, falling back into the pillows and gasping.

He was in the middles of wiping his face before he realized that she didn’t have a towel there the first time he came over. But a towel was always there every other time he had showed up after. Either white or dark gray. Always fluffy. He looked down. Her eyes were closed, her pants slowing down to heavy breaths. She hadn’t been looking at him during his epiphany.

She smacked his arm for a second time before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“Put my legs down, damn…”

“Oh, shit, right…”

It took him a moment to untangle himself. She went to the bathroom, as she usually did. Their clothes were all over the floor. Leather pants. Mesh shirt. The bathing suit top. Panties. His tank top. Black boxer briefs. His jacket and jeans were out there somewhere in the hall outside the bedroom. He noticed a pair of folded gray sweatpants and white shirt sitting on the corner of her room, randomly atop a low bookshelf. He had put them there a week ago. Just in case. She hadn’t moved it.

Jungkook breathed out.

He patted his temple.

I’m in idiot.

Then vigorously dried his hair.

The feeling came back when it was his turn to clean up in the bathroom and he saw his clear hair tie by her sink. A little tangled up from use, next to a pair of clear earplugs. He should probably check his phone and tell his friends that he was fine, but it was somewhere out there in his jeans and Jungkook wasn’t going to go hunting for it right now.

He went back to the bedroom.

Damn, she was so stunning even simply lying in bed. Her gray duvet was only covering her lower half, her forearm draped over her eyes. Amazing breasts. He took a moment to ogle them, perfect nipples and all.

“Stop staring at my tits.”

Well, shit.

She raised her arm and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Not saying anything, but the message came across quite clear.

Jungkook draped the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up the gray sweatpants from the bookshelf, yanking them over his legs before looking up again. Those shadowed eyes were watching him carefully. Surprise but not quite believing. He left the t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to the other side of the bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress, making her body bounce.

Side eye.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’m tired.”

She frowned at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

He used his elbows to scoot himself to the pillows, resting his chin on the backs of his hands to look down at her. Her eyes followed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. Down and then up. Observing his facial expression carefully.

“Can’t stay too late?” she whispered. Somewhere between a taunt and weariness.

It broke his heart a little, hearing his own words said back to him. He moved one hand and lifted her forearm from her brows, seeing more of her face now. The mood lighting was still on. Points of color dancing over the ceiling above them. They reflected in her eyes even as she faced him.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, soft and sweet and not yet clinging to his skin.

“Can I stay the night?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why would you wanna to that?”

He shrugged, realizing now that it had never been a no.

“Boyfriends stay over at their girlfriends’ places sometimes. Free breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“The shit you pull, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned down. Had to fight for the kiss. Hands on wrists. His chest pressed against her breasts. When their lips touched, he could feel her smiling, so Jungkook smiled too and kissed her deeply.

--

masterpost

[kinardsevan]

A hand written note for bucktommy if it inspires 💙

(literally stole this one from my parents)

Evan keeps one of them in his locker at work. Another in his wallet. A third is framed on his nightstand. Tommy actually got jealous about it when he realized Evan had kept them in such a way, so he’d ensured he left one on Tommy’s nightstand a week later. And coffee mug. And on the rearview mirror in his truck. 

. . . 

He’s coming off a long shift the night it happens. He and Tommy have barely seen each other in the past week, given the fact that they’re coming through the end of wildfire season, so Tommy’s shifts have been more scattered and run into overtime. Evan really hasn’t had it easy either, even though the 118 has been fighting from the ground. So after ten days when Tommy calls him halfway through his shift to let him know that he’s finally getting a few days off, it takes everything inside Evan to not run out of the firehouse.

Still, by some miracle, he manages to make it through the next twelve hours, although by the time he’s standing in the locker room, changing into his civvies, he’s practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Clearly Tommy’s schedule finally matched up with yours,” Eddie jokes as he tosses his clothes into his bag. 

“It’s been a week and a half, Eds,” Evan replies, tossing his toiletry pouch into his duffel. “Do me a favor and don’t call for twenty-four hours?” 

Eddie laughs at him as Evan hoists his bag up his shoulder, rounds the bench. “Sure, Buck. You and T have a good night. Don’t tell me how it goes.” 

Evan waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder as he walks out of the locker room and out of the firehouse, already dialing on his phone. When he gets to the jeep, he tosses his things in and starts it up, settles his phone on the dash when Tommy picks up. 

“You just get out,” his boyfriend asks, skipping the pleasantries. 

“Yeah,” Evan replies, pulling out of his parking space. “I may have told Eddie not to call for the next twenty-four.” 

Tommy’s laughter is audible. “Not a bad idea, Buckley.” 

Evan can’t stop the smile that tugs across his face or the pink that dusts across his cheeks as he heads for the road. 

“I’m like twenty minutes out,” he tells Tommy after a moment. 

“Okay cool. I just got to that little Italian store we like, so I might be a few minutes later. Gotta pick up some provisions. Plus they just got the good mozzerella in.” 

Evan groans softly. “Making me wait even longer to see you?” 

Tommy chuckles again. “All in due time, sweetheart. I shouldn’t be much longer. You can call me when you get there if you want.” 

Evan frowns, but doesn’t argue. 

“I can hear you pouting,” Tommy comments. “Soon, Evan.”

“Okay,” he responds, acquiescing. “Soon.” 

Tommy ends the call after that, and Evan focuses on his drive. True to his word, he’s across town in the promised time limit, pulling into Tommy’s driveway and yanking his bag from the passenger seat and crossing the yard to the front door. He practically hops onto the front step, slipping his key in the door to let himself in. 

Inside the house, Tommy has left a few lamps on to light his way. He leaves his bag by the door with his shoes, where Tommy usually drops his own duffel, and then heads towards the kitchen. Still, as he starts to head towards the fridge, he’s suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Post-its are everywhere. The fridge, the counter, the vase of mostly-dead flowers Evan bought two weeks ago. 

All with the same message. 

I love you.

His heart clenches as he reaches out for one of the yellow sticky notes plastered to the fridge, his vision blurring with tears as he reads the black sharpie. It’s written in Tommy’s better penmanship, like he didn’t just hastily scrawl it, but actually took the time to write each one out carefully and with purpose. 

They’ve been dancing around those three words for weeks now, even if it’s been months that they’ve been felt. Still, neither of them wanted to jump the gun on it, and selfishly, Evan wanted to find his own way to make it special. Everything about their relationship has been handled with such care from the beginning that he didn’t want it to be a quick thing. He wanted to put the time and effort into not just saying how he felt, but showing it.

Clearly, Tommy has beaten him to the quick. 

“I had this whole thing planned.” 

Evan turns then, sees Tommy leaning in the doorway towards the bedroom. He’s smiling back at the blonde with adoration. 

“W-what?” 

Tommy nods. “Bought all this food and these candles. I was going to make a whole thing about it. And then the wildfire happened, and the flowers I had on hold died, and because I couldn’t pick up the food, they refunded my order.” He strides across the room as he talks, sliding his arms around Evan’s waist. “And then I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. Didn’t want to wait another minute to tell you.” 

Evan hiccups a sniffle as the tears in his eyes finally run down his face, Tommy pressing a kiss into the side of his neck. 

“I love you too,” he rasps, clasping a hand tight around Tommy’s where it’s resting on his hip. “Kinda wanted to go first, but you stole my thunder.” 

Tommy laughs softly against his neck, continuing a row of kisses down Evan’s collarbone before he finally pulls up and turns the younger man in his arms, getting a full view of him. He lifts a hand and brushes it through Evan’s hairline, down his cheek, under his chin, pulling Evan into an open-mouthed kiss. The blonde moans into it, looping an arm around Tommy’s neck and cradling his head, keeping him close. There’s no rush to break apart, taking one another in and rebuilding the map of each other’s mouths. When they finally do break apart, they still remain in each other’s space, Tommy nuzzling up against the space in front of Evan’s ear, laying light kisses beneath it. 

“I love you so much, Evan Buckley,” he murmurs. Evan shivers, both at his breatha and the confession being stated out loud. He sniffles again, buries his face in the shoulder of Tommy’s olive henley. 

“Might love you more,” he rasps, clinging tightly to his boyfriend. Tommy chuckles and shakes his head, trailing his fingers up and down Evan’s back. 

“That’s debatable. Might have to split the days of the week,” he replies. “Can’t be at a disadvantage.” 

Evan just sighs against him, turning his face into Tommy’s neck. He closes his eyes and inhales Tommy’s scent, letting himself be wrapped in the knowledge that this isn’t just his boyfriend now. He loves Tommy, and Tommy loves him. 

When he finally pulls back after a few minutes, Tommy brushes his thumb over Evan’s cheeks, wiping away the tears there. 

“You good,” he asks. 

Evan nods. “Mostly.” 

Tommy furrows his brow at him. “Mostly isn’t a yes.” 

Evan can’t help the smirk that crawls across his face. “Well, my boyfriend and I haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. Been itching to get dicked down for days now.” 

Tommy chuckles at him, even as his pupils dilate and he leans forward, leaving light kisses on Evan’s lips.

“Well then. We’re just gonna have to do something about that.” 

[nyxotiine]

Time ~ VV

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A/N: 18+ fanfic!!! MDNI!!! First smut fic so I'm sorry for the horrible plot and positioning lol

Warnings: degradation, slight choking, biting

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You sat in bed, waiting for Ville to come like he was supposed to hours ago. He told you he’d be home at midnight after going out with friends, celebrating the end of their tour. You looked at the ticking black clock that hung in your bedroom, the clock read 4:00 am. You grumbled on your side of the bed as you continued to read under candle lights.

After a while, you kept reading the same line in the Edgar Allen Poe book that Ville bought you ages ago. You blow out all the candles and crawled into the velvet sheets of the bed, tossing and turning at the thought of Ville. You decided to go to bed, angry that Ville hasn’t called or messaged you to say he’d stay out later. Just one text to let you know he’s okay and that he’s thinking of you.

You heard the door unlock and you heard a loud groan from a familiar sounding man. You heard the man stumble in the kitchen, shoes being tripped over, and then you heard the laugh of the person you know and love. Ville was finally home and he sounded tipsy. His clumsiness in the kitchen and living room made you more awake than before.

He finally climbed into bed with you after a minute of getting comfortable at home. You could smell the cigarettes and beer on his lips and skin, pissing you off even more. Your left eye twitched with annoyance. You wanted to give him a piece of your mind at the moment.

He slithered a hand on your hip and whispered in your ear, “Sweetheart, did you miss me?” A kiss then being planted on your neck.

You swatted his hand off of you and scooted closer to the edge of your side of the bed. He looked at you for a good minute with confusion. He sighed and laid on his back, looking at the ceiling.

“Did I do something wrong?”, he whispered again, this time with worry in his voice.

“I don’t know, Ville. It would’ve been nice for a text or call. It would’ve been nice to have you home. Your friends missed you but I missed you too.”, you spat. You rolled your eyes despite him not being able to see you in the dark.

He turned on the lamp on his nightstand and looked at you, his elbow propping himself up. “Darling, it was just a party. I’m back home, I’m here with you now.”, he attempted to soothe you.

“Ville, you do this more times than you think. I’m patient but not this patient. I feel like I’m second compared to your friends and parties. I can wait until you come home from tours because that’s work but I swear you and your friends have a much better relationship than we do.”, you turned to him to argue.

“Hun, I always come back to you. You’re not second, you’re always first. I’m just trying to balance personal life and work. What else do you want me to do?”, his voice sounding stressed and annoyed as he asked the question.

“I want you to actually spend time with me when you come home. Let’s go out for once in a while, watch a movie inside or something. All you do is party nowadays!”, you toss your hands in the air as you get up.

“Oh my fucking gods, sorry that I’m constantly busy for months on end and get no sleep on tour. Gods forbid I try to have any fucking fun.”, he yells at he gets up.

“Oh, you’re busy? You play for a hour or two and then get shit-faced until the next show! I take care of this fucking apartment while you’re gone! I’m the only one cleaning this place thanks to you. I still work while taking care of it, I take care of everything. And I’m doing this alone! You couldn’t handle what I do!”, your voice raises as you get up as well.

You both continue to argue and fight about the situation. A few low blows are made and grunts and sighs are exchanged. The both of your faces are close and angry. You can feel his heavy breathing on your nose as he tries not to lash out. You’re trying not to say something you’ll regret but want to get your point across. His eyes are cold and stern as yours are more upset and frustrated.

“You’re being such a bitch right now. I get to come home to your little temper tantrum, I love it here.”, his voice becoming sarcastic and degrading. His mind is sober and clear, the anger diminishing the liquor in his body.

“Then fucking leave, asshole. Pack up your shit and go find a skank to shack up with.”, you yell at him.

“Oh, you think I’m easy? That’s too fucking funny. Try paying for the apartment with your lousy piece of shit job.”, his voice deep and husky as he tilts his head close to your face.

“Fuck you, Ville.”, you say through gritted teeth.

You felt like exploding with adrenaline and anger. Your heart raced as you stood your ground against him, his tall figure looming over you. The blood in your veins boil at his stupid remarks and sarcastic comments. Why did you ever date someone so stubborn and immature like him?

“You already have and apparently any other girl can too according to you.”, he squint his eyes as he looks you up and down for a quick moment. He looks at you for the faintest reaction.

Your adrenaline gets higher. Yet you didn’t want him to win this argument and fight. You truly were annoyed with his recent actions and decisions. You wanted him to grow up and take this relationship more serious but you couldn’t think of anything to say back. You leave the bedroom to go into the living room, trying to calm down. He follows you to proceed the fighting.

“Oh, now, you don’t have anything else to complain about? You just want to pick a fight with me for no reason? Speak. The. Fuck. Up. You’re being a pyscho bitch.”, his voice getting more aggressive with every word that leaves his lips.

He's trying he hardest not to punch a wall or break anything in the house. He knows how he gets when he’s angry like this and can’t express himself in words.

“I’m the pyscho bitch? I just want to spend time with you. Is that so hard to ask for? You clearly can’t get that through your thick fucking skull! I don’t care what we do. Just be with me. You don’t even make love to me anymore. You don’t fucking want me!”, you lash out with tears in your eyes. The anger getting to you and overwhelming your emotions.

Before you can even close your mouth, Ville kisses you. His big hands grabbing your hips and caressing them with his thumbs. The kiss is aggressive and hungry. His touch is rough and irrational. You kiss him back and wrap your arms around him, running a hand through his wavy hair rapidly. He pats your butt for you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You caught the hint and did it, he carried you to the bedroom, still kissing you with full intensity.

You both make it to the bedroom and he pushed you down to the bed, grabbing your wrists as he kissed you harshly. His lips travel to your cheek, jawline and neck in hunger. A string of whimpers and sighs spill from your lips as the sensation of his lips on your body get you hot and bothered.

“Is that all you wanted? You just wanted me to fuck you? You’re such a slut.”, he degrades you before he bites at your soft skin.

You let out sighs of pleasure, becoming a little louder with his words. He had you pinned and you craved to touch him, anything would suffice.

His tongue slides across the crevice of your neck to then leave hickeys littering all over your neck. He gets close to your cleavage before rushing to get your shirt off. Your bra was in the way of getting to see his favorite thing about you, he unclasped it with one hand. His other hand now holding both of your wrists.

“Such a pathetic pretty whore.”, he whispers before he kisses your breasts, leaving bites along the way.

He bites, licks and kissed all of your sensitive spots, leaving you a mess. You could only think of your anger towards him and the overwhelming feeling of lust. He lets go of your wrists to touch your body in any way he pleased. You watched and bit your bottom lip before you place your hands on your pajama pants, attempting to pull them down and off.

He smacks your hand away and grabs your face with his hand, making eye contact with your eager face. “I’ll get to it when I get to it. You don’t get to throw a fit and then lead me.”, his voice is husky and demanding.

You nod and let him touch you even more. He grinded his evident erection against your clothed pussy. You laid there, letting him control you and your every action. You were desperate to touch him but knew he wouldn’t let you. You felt like you were begging him through your gasps.

A few more moments passed of him attacking your skin, marking what was his. His hand that held your wrists now on the other side of your speckled neck. He pulled down your pants and panties, exposing your whole body to him. He wasn’t on top of you anymore but leaning towards the side.

He slides his rough and big hands across your body, finally reaching your folds where he plays with you gently. His touch is different to his hunger driven kisses and it causes some mixed signals. Was he still mad or did this calm him down?

To test the question, you put your hands on the back of his head, your fingers running through his hair. He lets you and continues to rub your clit, teasing one of his fingers at your entrance. The slightest touch giving you some mental praise.

Testing the waters even more, you run your fingers down his body, stopping at the low waistband of his pants. He bucks his hips towards your hands, gesturing for you to touch him.

You put your hand into his pants and brush your fingertips along the length of his cock. You keep touching him but only gently, scared he might shrug you off or swat your hand away again.

This time he grabbed your hand and led it to touch him more. You wrapped your hand around his cock and stroked him until he was moaning with every kiss, bite and hickey.

He stopped touching you for a moment to pull down his pants and boxers, freeing his constricted cock. His cock pressed against your folds and clit, grinding against you as he continues to kiss and mark you as his. With every roll of his hips, a jolt of pleasure gets sent through your body, filling the room with whines.

“I fucking need you right now.”, he groaned as grinds against you for one last time.

Your breath and voice hitched before you nodded rapidly. You wanted every part of him to touch and love you. You were begging at this point with your lust-craved eyes and parted lips. He chuckles before kissing your lips gently.

He leaned closer before grabbing his cock in his hands, stroking himself in the process. His deep groans filling your ears, you wished you could have a recording of his pleasurable voice to remember how he sounds. His voice was vulnerable in these private times.

You feel like you were daydreaming with each noise from his thin lips. Your empty weeps and gasps echoed in his ears.

He angled himself to slowly slide himself in you. You were losing focus of him as he eased himself to a steady pace. Your eyes couldn’t lock with his as you turned to moan in the grasped sheets. His hand was placed on your throat, holding you head in place to look at him.

“You were so desperate to get fucked and now you don’t even have the decency to look at me”, he degraded you through his teeth.

Your eyes locked with him and he began smirking before speeding up. Chuckles slipped from his lips as he saw your pathetic expressions.

His thumb slid across your neck as he slowly eased off the pressure. Your hands landed on his lower back, feeling his hips buck to his quickened movements.

The room was full of moans and the sound of his hips impacting yours. The slight creaks of the bed rustled against the wall. He tried to conceal his moans and groans as best as he could. Every noise made him smile and smirk more before getting lost in lip biting.

His hands landed on your hips to stabilize himself and you. His fingernails digging cresent shapes into your delicate skin. His wavy hair draping over his face as beads of sweat form on his forehead.

His movements slow down as his grasp loosens on your hips. He leans down for a kiss, your lips automatically locking with his. His elbows fell right above your shoulders, propping himself better.

His rough and aggressive kissing mixed with your longing and desperate manners created frantic touching. His hands roamed all over you, your hips, tits, stomach, and ass.

Every time his fingertips glided around your skin, he wanted nothing more to continue to ruin you. To ruin the soft skin he loved so much and to leave you remembering who you belong to.

His hips moved again but at a slow pace. His body positioned right over you as your stomachs pressed together.

His head is in between your neck and shoulder as he keeps plowing into you. He starts to bite on your shoulder to hold in his own grunts and moans but to also mark you even more.

You scratch at his back as he becomes more rough and aggressive. He’s taking out all his anger, frustration and stress out on you. You won in this scenario, having him listen to your frustrations and him fucking you into oblivion.

You already felt your body heating up as he fucked you, almost unraveling underneath him. You moan louder from the sensation and dig your nails in his inked back.

“Baby… please, I’m close. Don’t stop, please.”, you whine out in a begging manner.

He lifts his head to look at you and smirks. He completely stops, a small chuckle leaving his lips before he starts to pant. You look at him and whimper, losing the feeling of your orgasm.

“I think I will stop. You don’t deserve to cum after your little outburst.”, he snickers as he starts to move again.

He give you painfully slow and long strokes before he puts one of your legs on his shoulder. He was hitting everything the right way but it wasn’t enough to cum. He kept everything paced out to keep denying you of climaxing. Whines and whimpers keep leaving your lips, your breath keeps hitching as you hear him groan in a almost silent volume.

“Look at you. Whining like a little bitch. You need more?”, his voice was mocking as he cooed in your ear.

You could only nod repeatedly, giving the gesture of wanting more. You would do anything for him just to let you cum this one time. He gave a shit eating grin when he saw you nod and give a begging expression. He would give up the world for your messy and pleading self.

His slow strokes started to become a tad bit faster as he was losing himself inside you. He couldn’t help it, you just felt too good. He was trying to chase his own high but he wanted you to feel good too. He was going to give up. He shook his head and sighed.

“Tell me what you want. Say please and I’ll let you cum.”, he breathed out through his strokes.

“Ville, you fucking tease. Let me cum, please, Ville…”, your voice was shaking and started to mumble.

He let out a small chuckles before leaning down to kiss your neck. “Good girl. Stay just like that.”, he moaned as he picked up the pace.

He lifted your other leg on his shoulder as he began to hit those deep spots. He wanted you to feel all of him and all that he can give you. His body was still close to yours, leaving hickeys on your soft skin as he spread your legs.

Your denied orgasm came back and you unfolded beneath Ville. Your muscles tensing up as a series of moans and whines leave your puffy lips. Ville gave you a few more thrusts before finding his own climax.

His shoulders dropped as he rode out your high. His lips parted as sweat trailed down his face. Your legs slid off his shoulders but your bodies were still intertwined. You couldn’t look at him for a solid minutes, attempting to compose yourself. He smiled at you and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

Ville looked at your sweating and glistening body once more before he went into the master bedroom’s bathroom and grabbed something to clean you up with. He was careful and gentle, massaging your thighs as he cleaned you.

You giggled and panted as he provided you care. He was soft and loving now, despite his previous hatred filled actions.

“You sure you’re okay? That was a lot even for me. You did so good though.”, he praised you before he went into the bathroom to run a bath for the both of you. The water ran as he came back.

“I’m sorry for what I said.”, you looked at him with worry, worried you offended him earlier.

He chuckles before he pressed his fingertips firmly on all of your hickeys and bite marks. You winced in slight pain and soreness. “That’s for you to remember who you’re talking to.”, he looked at you with a smile before dragging you into the bathroom with him to bathe.

“You know I love you and hate you right.”, he whispered as he helped you into the bathtub and joined you. You smiled at him as you began to hold his hand.

“Maybe you’d hate me less and love me more if you came home on time.”, you smirked at him, repeating the same argument from earlier that started this all. You just wanted to get a rise out of him.

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing this again.”, he rolled his eyes at you.

“I love and hate you too.”, you leaned towards him and gave him a soft kiss on his small lips.

[cariantha]

Bad Dream

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff Word count: 1.2K Summary: Sawyer has a nightmare while Ethan is out of town and despite the distance he is able to bring her comfort in the sweetest way.

A/N: To the anon who sent this ask, I’m sorry for taking so long to follow up. I had promised “Coming Soon” content, but the original idea for this fic was not working. So, I scrapped it and ended up going another direction, inspired by the song Bracelet by Lauv. Hope you like it!

Almost three months had passed since the attempted attack on the senator and Sawyer was doing fairly well. Finally back to work full-time, going to counseling, and taking medication as needed. Despite the positive prognosis, Ethan knew there could still be setbacks. Nor was he over his own fear of losing her. So he continued to keep a watchful eye. And being this far away caused stress and constant worry. 

It was supposed to be a quick turnaround trip. The plan was to fly to Cleveland with Baz, consult on a case, and return home as quickly as possible. But nothing had gone according to plan. A diverted flight, lab work delays, and a challenging diagnosis kept him in Ohio three days longer than originally anticipated.

2:00 P.M.

8:30 P.M.

“You were right, Ethan,” Baz announced as he returned to the conference room with updated lab results. “It’s POEMS syndrome.”

A couple hours later, Ethan and Baz had drafted a detailed treatment plan to present to the patient's physician of record.  

“Baz, we’ve been in Ohio much longer than I anticipated. I need to get back to Boston. Do you think you can wrap up this consultation on your own? There’s a flight back to Boston leaving at 5 a.m. that I’d like to catch.”

“I got this, Boss.”

“Thank you.”

1:00 A.M.

After booking the flight and packing his things, Ethan laid on the hotel bed intending to catch a nap before his ride to the airport arrived. Eyes closed but far from sleep, his phone buzzed and vibrated on the nightstand, Sawyer’s name flashing on the screen.  

“Rookie?”

“E-Ethan.”

He sat up and turned on the lamp when he heard his whimpered name. “Hey,” he said delicately, “what’s wrong?” His heart started to beat faster and harder, mind suddenly racing with all of the possible reasons for the broken voice on the other end of the line.  

Trying to stop herself from crying, Sawyer snuffled, “I just needed to hear your voice. Will you talk with me for a little bit?”

“I’m here,” he assured her, “whatever you need.”

With that specific request he understood the cause of her distress. Though not as frequent several weeks later, Sawyer continued to have nightmares about the poison attack. This one likely the result of whatever triggered her anxiety earlier in the day. “Was it another nightmare?”

“Yeah, it was a bad one,” her voice was still shaking.  

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No need to be sorry. I wasn’t asleep. I was actually lying awake thinking of you.”

“You were? What were you thinking about?”

One night after a particularly upsetting dream, Ethan brought comfort by revealing one of the moments when he started to realize he had feelings for her. Since then, whenever they were together and Sawyer woke up from a bad dream, he soothed her back to sleep with another endearing memory. 

“Do you remember the leather wrist band you bought for me at the farmer’s market last year?” he recalled.

“You mean the friendship bracelet I gave you? Because you were being stubborn and wouldn’t admit that we were friends?” she wise-offed.  

“Can you hear my eyes rolling?” he came back with, earning a light chuckle from the other end of the line. “Yes, that’s the one.” His voice now gentle, “I don’t remember if I ever told you, but I took it with me when I left for the Amazon. You know that I convinced myself that it would be best for us to try and move on… but that didn’t mean I was ready to let you go right away. With a foot already out the door, I realized that I needed to take a piece of you with me, so I went back for it. I figured I’d wear it until enough time passed that I didn’t need to anymore. I was so busy and distracted when I was working that I sometimes fooled myself into thinking I was finally getting over you... but at night when I was alone with my thoughts…” he exhaled softly, “well, they always drifted to you and I’d wake up missing you even more.” Sawyer sniffed back sentimental tears as he continued. “The day that I didn’t need it anymore never came. I wore that leather band every day until I came home.”  

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered.  “Want to know something?”

“What’s that?”

“When you first told me about the W.H.O. mission, I started following their Pictagram account. After you had been gone for a few weeks, they posted a picture of you and you were wearing the bracelet. And the night you came back, when we were talking in the beer garden, I saw it around your wrist. Just under the sleeve of your jacket,” she explained. “It’s the reason I kissed you that night. You’d never wear something like that unless it meant something important to you.”

“I see you’ve mastered the art of observation,” he joked before getting serious again. “And it did. It still does.” 

Sawyer’s phone vibrated in her hand as a notification alerted her to a new text message.

“Ethannnnn, you’re wearing it now?” touched by the gesture.

“This time it was the first thing I grabbed when packing for this trip. I wanted a piece of you with me while I was away.”

“I love…” she caught herself. It’s not that she didn’t want to say it, she just didn’t want to pressure Ethan to say it back if he wasn’t ready. “I love that. It’s so sweet.”

“And far less creepy than pocketing a pair of your panties,” trying and successfully making her laugh.

“Well, I should probably confess that I’ve raided your closet and will be spooning your pillow so I can feel close to you too.” 

He laughed heartily at the mental image. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.”

“I’m glad. Go have a cup of tea and try to get back to sleep,” he encouraged.

“Any chance I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

“We’ll see, but I think the odds are looking good,” he replied knowing full well he’d be boarding a plane and on his way home to her in just a couple of hours.  

“Well, fingers crossed. And Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said most sincerely.

“Only good dreams now, okay? Goodnight, Rookie.”

“Bye, babe.”

9:00 A.M.

Ethan entered the still apartment, leaving his coat and suitcase in the entryway. Seeing no sign of life yet, he quietly made his way to the master bedroom. Head just barely poking out from under the comforter, he found her just as she said, spooning his king size pillow.  

He carefully toed off his shoes and parted with his shirt and pants.  He removed his watch, placing it on the top of the dresser, but left his other accessory on.

Lifting the comforter, Ethan climbed into bed scooting up against her backside and wrapped his arm tightly around her. Though jarring her from sleep, the familiar touch and scent instantly quieted her alarm.  

“Surprise,” he breathed into her ear before kissing her cheek and trailing down her neck.

With a raspy morning voice she uttered “Hiiiii” while her hands hugged his arm, the feel of braided leather under one of her palms.  

“Did you have better dreams after we talked?” he mumbled against the skin of her exposed shoulder.

Rolling over, she nudged him flat onto his back and slowly straddled his hips. “Mhmmm, the best. And it looks like they’re about to become reality,” she smirked before leaning down and kissing him deeply.  

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble

[phychohex]

I met a vampire down in Santa Carla (chapter three)

I am now fully settled in having found my way around to life back in Santa Carla. The past month I have slowly made my room mine once again. The frame is the same only the fairy lights are replaced with new ones that actually work.  Two nightstands both black with neon green skulls all over them. One holding my medication and sleep stuff the other having random junk. I also finally have a desk that also acted as a makeshift vanity. The mirror that hung above has a black frame with some lights hot glued along the edges. The desk was black with the top having a leopard print design and the chair was a rolling one with a leopard print blanket on the back. My dresser was replaced by a big wardrobe which I painted black to match the nightstands. I also have a lamp in the corner of the room which I made myself using a prosthetic leg, an old tall lamp, and a leopard print lampshade. It was over by my makeshift reading nook where a hanging chair stayed along with a large corner shelf. When I switched to a wardrobe I was able to uncover the doors to the patio. I made sure to keep it up to my stepdad's standards. I used black curtains to cover the doors when I didn't want to go out. My bedding was now black with satin sheets and pillows. I'm not done with the room but it has only been a month. Using any tips and the money Steve didn't take to make it all done up. 

With Steve still not believing how much I make was now a blessing. I am rarely around him especially after we got into a fight and my mom tried to stop it from happening ending up with a broken arm. Begging me not to tell the truth to anyone and also feeling guilty I tend to stay in my room when I'm home. If I'm not at home I'm at work which was more bearable. Tyler was an asshole always having some shit to say under his breath. He mostly kept to himself so I do the same. It also doesn't help that no matter where I'm at the group of bikers seem to linger. Every night they were out on the boardwalk doing whatever they wanted as if they owned the place. I try to stay as far as I can they just leaked trouble. Somehow though they are always there. I get off work and they are at a store not too far away leaving as well. Getting gas well guess who just so happens to be getting gas too. I'm sure other people have the same kind of routine as me having recognized other people but they stood out like a sore thumb. The only real peace I seem to get is on Wednesdays when I go to the Shack for DND and band practice. 

We were rocky at the start having to refind our groove and style but once we did we didn't sound half bad. Again it's only for fun so we never take it seriously. If someone misses a note or Josh and I have voice cracking or sing misheard lyrics we just laugh it off. I also have my room at the shop just how I want it. I bought a CD player along with a CD book for people to choose from. Most of it is stuff I like but since not everyone shares my taste I also have other music. I also have a mini fridge where I offer free drinks. I offer soda, sweet tea, and water. I got a snack basket on top of it again free to those who need it. This is handy for people who don't take tattoos very well and have blood sugar problems. I find this tends to get me good tips which I use to buy more snacks. Setting up my area getting ready for my shift soothing through my CD book.

 I hear the bell alerting us we have a client looking to get something done. I didn't have any appointments for another couple of hours so unless Tyler gets to the counter first I am free. Sadly I didn't make it hearing him talking to whoever it was. "RORY" he shouted which was startling. I peek out and instantly get annoyed. Standing at the front talking to Tyler was the biker gang. I shake off whatever thoughts I have and make my way over. "This is David he is specially requesting you for his tattoo" the jealousy seeping out in his voice. 

"shouldn't a tattoo artist have tattoos" he questions getting a kick out of this. I lift my sleeve showing him my bat wrapped around my right wrist. "That's it" 

"no I have a bunch, I just so happen to be a lady who dresses modestly" I lean against the counter "Do you want a tattoo or not" I had to put on a tough face the last time we met I was too nervous. Drumming the counter standing up turning to his friends saying something. The other three leave and he turns back. "good what ya thinkin' on getting" 

"arm wrap, barbed wire?" I turn grabbing a big binder filled with regular tattoos that people tend to get flipping to the right page showing him the different kinds he could get. Looking through them before picking one he liked.

"Okay follow me and I'll get you set up" I take the page out and head to my room him following close behind. "just take a seat while I draw this up" I turn to the desk that was set up getting the stencil ready. "you have any music you prefer or if you want to talk we can. Help yourself to any drinks or snacks as well" 

"I'm good" I felt him right behind leaning over watching me.  With it done I turn around only to see he was still in his trench coat. 

"the jacket" I point. He nods taking it off wearing a black short-sleeved shirt. His arms weren't jacked but they had a nice tone his shoulders were broad and his shirt seemed tight against his chest. He sits down I put the stencil on and make sure it looks okay. "look in the mirror and see if you like it, if not I can change it" he gets up not really looking.

"little lower" I turn redoing the stencil and prepping his arm lowering the placement. Now liking the placement I finish getting him ready. 

"so any music" I offer one last time. 

"that's alright" I start trying to get into my headspace which clearly was going to be a bit hard. "where you from" 

"New Mexico" 

"What brings you to the murder capital" 

"it's complicated" I mutter glancing up his eyes never wondering. I go back to the tattoo hoping this won't be as antiganizing as I think it's going to be. "what about you" I ask trying to flip it to a different topic. I do this a lot letting the client talk about themselves and share their story. It was one of the things I enjoyed about this job. 

"complicated." Well, there goes that plan "We have a while we should swap stories" That was his motive. 

"Why do you want to know" I ask "What do you want to know" 

"I said I'd see you around, didn't I? Tell me whatever" 

"you hassle all your artists?" I joke reinking the needle

"Just the pretty ones" I look at him. 

I gasp "Don't let Tyler hear, it'll hurt his feelings that you think he isn't pretty" I playfully pout.

"so she can snap back here I was thinking you didn't have it in you" I roll my eyes." seriously though what about the murder capital that has attracted you here? One of those true crime junkies" 

"let's just say I grew up here then I left collected up some baggage and now I'm back" The silence was loud but I finally got the peace I wanted. I hyperfocus back on my task. I find myself playing stories in my head when I do. If someone is telling me their own I picture it if not I let the music guide my thoughts but silence. I hate that it gives me little to work with and my mind drifts to its own memories. It would be about the Dnd stuff or what I should've said in an argument when I was younger, but now my mind decided to bring memories of him back. The first time he cheated is now at my forefront. 

I came home late due to night classes. The house was pretty dull but I did hear moaning. Confused I go and see John having another girl in the bed. I lashed out asking what the fuck was going on. Who was this bitch laying in my bed with my guy? It didn't take much for him to throw me against the wall yelling for me to get the fuck out and slamming the door in my face. That was the first time he put his hands on me. I didn't talk to him for days no matter how much he tried. That didn't last long either tho because once he was done with it he yelled at me throwing himself to my feet gaslighting and guilt-tripping. I sit up looking at my work. 

It was good and I have most of the front done. "turn your arm please" I mutter. I didn't notice it but he was looking at me. His once sarcastic demeanor was gone as the tension thickened. I take a deep breath to gather myself.

"mind if we listened to something," he asks I nod agreeing to the break stopping the clock. I hand him the book "You pick" I shrug and put it back pressing play on the stereo. The misfits blasting and getting back to work humming along to the songs. It brought me out of that gutter I was in making my mood better. I put the finishing touches on cleaning up and sterilizing everything again. He looks at it in the mirror before going with me to pay.

"thank you for choosing me to give you a tattoo it was nice" I smile "I hope you enjoy it" he nods paying before leaving. I felt bad I must've made it awkward with my answer. I couldn't let it get to me though I had the appointment coming in any time now. 

A couple of days have gone by. Right now  I'm getting my nails done by Kayla. I promised I'd stop by yesterday so here we are. I'm getting acrylic nails in oval shape. With a clear coat and the tip being white with little cherries all over. "so what you doing after this" she asks

"Nothing, I got tonight off" I shrug "Probably just go home" 

"No shit" she smiles "let's go get drunk then" Now there was something I don't do. The few times I have in never ended well. John used to be a very touchy and angry drunk so I never really got into the whole party hard and drink your liver to death. 

"I don't know" I shake my head "I'm not a big drinker" 

"even better you can be the DD" I guess it wouldn't be too bad. Plus gave me a good reason not to go home. 

"Fine as long as it isn't a bar that's on the boardwalk" 

"what's wrong with the boardwalk" She looks up switching hands putting the one she currently was working on under the little light. 

"cause that biker gang will be hanging around"

"biker gang?  you mean the guys with the mullets so what"

"well yesterday the one with the trench coat ya'know the leader, he specifically requested I do a tattoo for him the other day. While doing it he started playing asking a thousand questions and after I told him why I moved it just got quiet and awkward" 

"damn what did you tell him" 

"not much I just said I left got baggage and now I was back. I wasn't about to trama dump on some random dude, especially not a client. Before this, though they just were always" She gives me a look smiling "What" 

"he might like you" she teases "or at least did before you scared him off" I didn't think of that. The thought of someone liking me was the farthest thing from my mind. After everything with John, the last thing I want is to jump into a different relationship, especially with someone I didn't know.

"I guess but that's kinda creepy no?" 

"yeah it is I mean he doesn't even know you or has talked to you" 

"Well," I draw out the word gaining me a quick lookup.

"go on" also draws out the last word ready for any information I have left out. 

"When I got done with my job interview I went to that little coffee shop. The one with all the books. Well he and his gang all burst in there like a bat out of hell and we made eye contact. I guess he took it as his cue and came over to where I was searching for a book. I was over by the horror section so way back in the corner. He grabbed the book I was looking at and held it above my head asking for my name. It was like I was in high school again I swear." 

"oh he definitely likes you" 

"so" I scuff "I'm not looking for a man anyways" 

"no, but a little fun wouldn't hurt if you know what I mean" 

" hell no" I laugh "Trust me that is the last thing I want" as she finishes up my set getting me checked out. "I'll wait for you at my car I'll take you to come get it tomorrow okay." 

"Okay, but we are going to Drunken Sailor" I give her the bitch really look. 

"that's on the boardwalk" 

"Oh come on Rory it will be okay pretty sure you scared him off anyway" I roll my eyes and get in the car and wait for her. She was right no guy wants to fuck around with some chick with tons of shit clouding her past. I guess that's a good thing because now I can have some girl time. After about an hour she comes out ready to go drinking. We drive up to the bar being very surprised. The atmosphere was almost club-like the music was loud but not so loud to where you couldn't hear the person standing next to you. There were people at the bar all young and ready for a party others were already drunk or tipsy dancing their hearts out. Kayla rushes to the bar pulling me along. "two shots please" the bartender looks at me nodding before making them. She takes both swinging them back. I look at the menu.

 "can I get a virgin strawberry daiquiri please" Going to make the drink Kayla groans. Tugging on my arm as some pop song plays. 

"Let's dance" she ushers I beg for her to wait up but she is already out and partying. once my drink came I joined dancing as well I could covering my drink. "put it down" I shook my head "Fine I need more anyways." after an hour or so sipping on my drink and her doing the same. Going back and forth on the dance floor I end up sitting alone at the bar while she dances her heart out. Keeping a close eye on her when the bartender comes over with a cocktail. 

"oh sorry I didn't order one" I smile 

"on the house" he smiled "sent by that gentleman over there" I looked up to see David looking right back at me. The smile on his face and a little wave let me know I didn't scare him off. I look at the cocktail and stop the bartender. 

"Can I get another virgin daiquiri please" 

"yeah want me to send it back." he offers. I glance over and shake my head. I get up gathering up the balls to go and sit with him. I sit down and stay silent not sure what to do now. 

"thank you" I smile "but I don't drink" I slide it over to him. 

"Cause of the baggage" he questions I look down all courage gone. 

"Look I don't know what you want but maybe next time you should start with hi how are you this evening." I get up ready to get my drink and leave. He stands up following me. 

"wait" he gets in front "I'm sorry let's start over okay?" he offers. I look debating on it I sigh and sit back down. He sits next to me before downing the drink he offered like it was nothing. I was taken aback by this usually those things are filled with alcohol. he notices me staring "What, you said you don't drink and I wasn't bout to let it go to waste" he leans against the bar. "so if you aren't here to drink then what are you here for" I look out and point to Kayla who was currently in a group circle dancing. "why not join" 

"cause I've had enough dancing for tonight" The bartender comes back with my drink I pay with a good tip. "before you start this is a virgin" I take a sip enjoying the slightly sour drink. 

"no that's a slushie" leaning into the whiskey. "so your friend is over there dancing all by herself while you sit at the bar?" 

"I might be a tad uptight, I don't make friends as easy as she does." 

"yeah I noticed" He jokes 

"Sorry bout that." 

"it's fine you have those guards up for a reason" he looks at his drink as if thinking.

"to be honest" I glance at my glass not sure why I wanted to open up. It isn't like I had a buzz, but he was easy to talk to. "they are kinda new. I didn't use to be this way." 

"you want to forget?" he leans in our eyes meet it was like I was falling under some sick spell. "even if it is for one night" I shake my head letting out a laugh. It sounded like one of those you hear in a movie when the character was trying to hold it together. 

"no, thank you. That's the last thing I need" I hold my glass tighter. "I'm kinda over being a toy" It was silent I had said too much. Starting to regret having come over and not just sending my drink back like any normal person.

"fair enough." he leans back taking another long sip of the whiskey from before. "how bout this, me and you go do something fun, no strings attached" I look at him confused. 

"why" 

"why not, got nothing else going on." with the idea not sounding too bad I'm about to answer when Kayla leans on me. 

"what ya doing" she hugs looking over at David. Turning to my ear she attempted to whisper "is this him" I felt my face become heated with embarrassment as a smirk was plastered on his face. 

"Kayla" I look at her "What are you doing" I try giving her a hint to not do whatever her drunk mind was telling her. 

"just checking in" she pouts and touches her forehead on mine. "is that him" I nod hoping the hint finally clicks. She looks at him looking up and down. "get it girl" Now fully embarrassed and ready to go crawl in a hole and die I stand up. 

"I think we should go" I help her standing up much to her protest. "excuse her she is very drunk" I apologise "Can we take a rain check" I ask he nods in agreement. I hand him my phone letting him put his number in my phone. As he hands it back looking up and down I rush her out saying bye. Once in the car we just sit there. 

"he was cute" She looked at me I looked back the laughter was too hard to hold back. 

"you are such a bitch" I laugh starting the car. 

"oh shut the fuck up you know you love me" I start the drive to the shack. Getting her in the door was easy. we sit on the couch with a random movie playing only for her to instantly fall asleep. I hear my phone ding looking to see a new number on my phone. 

[letterstotheflre]

that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

TAGLIST: @emmaev @gxtitobxby @ildm4ev @capsmischief @arisblackhole @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @tonystarksmutgarden @blowing-mikey @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @glossiable @remusjlupinisdead @amixedwitch @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour — if you want to be added tap here

[emmyhem]

always (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always. 

warnings:  very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :( 

word count: 2.6k

Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself. 

Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again. 

“Y/n”

For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him. 

Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head. 

It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke. 

You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses. 

Had you gotten the time wrong? 

But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio. 

Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend. 

Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine. 

Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest. 

“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.

When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left. 

“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.  

That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 

“Hi, my love.” he cooed. 

A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it” 

You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you. 

With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.” 

And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and  you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him. 

You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that. 

Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed. 

“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.” 

“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground. 

“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration. 

Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.” 

“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.” 

“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted. 

“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.” 

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.” 

“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.

“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”

He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes. 

“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely. 

You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak. 

Was that what he thought about you? 

This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face. 

You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend. 

Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you. 

He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.” 

Yeah right. 

“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back. 

“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word. 

You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty. 

As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted. 

Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked. 

“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you. 

“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room. 

This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.

“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?” 

You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door. 

“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you. 

You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk. 

“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.

You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.” 

His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know?” 

“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out. 

This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away. 

“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back. 

After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning. 

His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid. 

Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.” 

Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath. 

He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu” 

He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night. 

The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper. 

He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney. 

He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly. 

“Lu, 

Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you. 

Yours always, 

               Y/n” 

He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest. 

That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.

About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.

He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation. 

Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you. 

Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button. 

With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 

“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks” 

But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake. 

“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of  the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.”  his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-”  his pleads were cut off by the dial tone. 

“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen. 

pt. 2

[michals]

A scene with Five and Allison?

“You know,” Allison says, “At first I thought you might be a robot.”

Five looks up from the memo pad he found next to a bible in the motel room’s nightstand that he’s scribbling in, “What? Why?”

Allison shrugs lazily, swirling her plastic cup of cheap whiskey. “I mean, you did drop out of the sky right after dad died, looking exactly the same as when you left. Plus I can name at least three villains who’d probably still be happy to mess with us.” She gives a thoughtful frown. “Or would have been happy to.”

Five’s ready to argue about that, because of course he’s not a robot that’s ridiculous, but…then again, it’s no more ridiculous than anything else that’s happened. Besides, mom exists. Existed. Maybe. There’s no answer to that question yet.

Five twists in the cheap plastic pool chair he’s sitting in. “When’d you figure out I wasn’t?”

Allison smirks, “When you starting insulting Diego. I mean I’m sure plenty of them would want to, it was just a little too on the nose.”

Five has to give her that one too.

Allison pushes back from the patio table she’s leaning on and gets up from her own cheap plastic chair, leaving her still almost full glass as she meanders over to the pool Five’s sitting next to. She shucks her shoes and sits down to put her feet in the water. She gives a hum like something amuses her about it but doesn’t explain herself to Five.

Five turns back to the notepad in front of him, pen poised above it ready to write…nothing. Nothing worthwhile anyway. There’s no math to be figured here – the timeline’s just royally fucked up because they fucked it up. All they’ve got right now is this shitty motel they’ve taken up refuge in and a couple of bottles of alcohol bought with money from the 1960s. He gives up, drops the paper on the cement with a huff.

It’s gotta be midnight, maybe later, the motel is quiet and only he and Allison remain outside. Klaus and Luther killed a bottle of rum between them before anyone noticed and Allison had forced them off to bed but the light in their room’s still on. Diego and Vanya gave up the ghost a little while ago, mumbling goodnights. Five’s too wound up to sleep yet, he’s not sure why Allison’s still up.

“We did always wonder where you’d gone,” Allison says to him over her shoulder, and it actually catches Five off guard.

He hasn’t had three seconds to spare thinking about it in the scant two weeks he’s been back with them, his world too chaotic, time moving at a pace he can only do his best to keep up with. But he had thought about it before, in those 45 years, he wondered sometimes what his siblings thought happened to him.

He settles back into the chair. “What’d you come up with?”

Allison smiles, tilts her head as she says, “Klaus thought you ran off to the circus. ‘The Amazing Disappearing Boy’. He was always jealous you got to ride the elephants and pet lions.”

Five can’t help the small smile that tugs at his mouth. Of course Klaus would be jealous even though it wasn’t true. “What else?” He asks.

“Diego thought you joined the FBI or the…CIA or whatever. Or some secret underground cabal of superscientists. And Ben-” she shakes her head with a soft laugh, “Ben would joke you’d come back to us as a supervillain yourself and we’d have to fight you.”

Five does smile at that. Ben was sneaky like that, he looked like the quiet one, the shy one, but Five can imagine him teasing the others with something like that. Probably even came up with a fake scenario worthy of one of their comic books.

Five won’t ask what Vanya thought, he knows enough from her book that she probably never told them. “Luther?”

Allison twists around to fully face him, propped up against her arm. “Well one time he asked me if I thought you’d succeeded. I think he wanted to believe you had.”

He’d had an argument with Luther the day before he left, he thought it was because Luther didn’t believe in him but Five’d had plenty of time to replay it in his head and now he can’t say for sure what it was really about.

“What about you?” Five asks. It’s not adrenaline keeping him awake anymore but it’s a buzz sort of like it as he listens to his sister tell him these things he’d always wanted to know.

Allison pauses, watches the ripples she’s kicking up in the water. “I thought what we all reallythought: you’d run away. You ran out the door and kept running.”

He’d run too far, he hadn’t meant to.

“We thought you’d decided you didn’t want to come back, that you were sick of dad and the Academy and you didn’t want to do the whole ‘hero’ thing, so you found a new family and you started a new life.” She shrugs, her smile somewhere between sad and wistful.

He wants to tell her that’s not true, that’s not true at all. Not just because it’s not what happened but because it’s not what he wanted to happen. He already had a family, for everything he hated it was never them. But he can’t seem to make the words come.

Allison’s back to looking across the pool as she continues. “We imagined you in one of those nice little houses we’d see through the car windows. Ben and Luther would say you’d have a room full of books and toys and Diego said you’d get to stay up late, Klaus said you had ice cream for dinner every night. I thought you’d maybe have a pet, like a dog or a cat.” When she looks over her shoulder her eyes twinkle with amusement. “Although, honestly, sometimes I’d imagine you in a boarding school, in a house all covered in vines-”

“Like Madeline,” Five finishes. She’d loved that book at a kid, Mom would read it to them.

Allison grins. “Like Madeline.”

If only, Five thinks. If only he’d failed and simply refused to turn around, if he’d found a new home and a new family. Unlike her though, unlike all of them, he can’t imagine them. Can’t imagine the kind of family he’d run to, who those people would be. He’d never considered anyone else a possibility, he’s surprised now to think they’d thought he could.

Allison’s gaze goes distant. “Ben…it was different with Ben. We knew he was gone. But Five-” she pauses, her attention coming back to him, “we just thought you’d run away.”

He shakes his head. “It was never you guys, you know. It’s not that I wanted to leave you.” He hates how scratchy his voice sounds.

Her smile returns, softer this time, “You came back at least.”

Five lets out a harsh breath, furrows his brow. “I sure did didn’t I?”

Allison throws her head back and laughs out loud, Five is surprised to find himself grinning.

She settles and shakes her head to herself, another private thought that Five is more hopeful about hearing someday. She swings her legs out of the pool and picks up her shoes. “Alright, bed time I think.”

Five was originally going to share a room with Luther until Klaus had been shooed off with him earlier so now the only bed left is the other twin in Allison’s room. Allison gives a little wave of her hand like she expects him to follow like of course he should. They leave their shoes at the ends of the beds, and Allison turns off the lamp on the nightstand between them.

“I could still be a robot,” Five says, “or a supervillain.” Allison laughs again.

Five thinks he should be disappointed that his siblings thought that he’d just decided he didn’t want to be around them and that he’d been happy for so long without them. Disappointed that they were so sure of it that they’d never thought to look for him. But he can’t be because all their ideas were better than the reality and he finds he likes that they came up with all these happy fantasies for him. To them he’d lead a very different life. Then he came back and proved them all wrong in the worst way.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Pepsi Raspberry

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.

A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.

Words: 2,416

A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…

You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.

"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.

Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.

"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.

“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”

He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.

“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”

“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…” “You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.

“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”

Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.

“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Not gonna happen.”

You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.

“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”

You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.

“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”

You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.

“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.

“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.

As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.

When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.

“Babe?”

You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.

He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.

“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.

“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”

“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”

He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.

“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”

“Not my problem, Frankie.”

Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.

“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.

“No.”

“Can you make some?”

“Make it yourself.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

“What's wrong, baby?”

You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.

“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”

Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.

“What's up with you?”

There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.

“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.

“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”

“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”

You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”

“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.

When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.

“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.

“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.

“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.

“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.

“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.

“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”

“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”

Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.

[+++]

Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.

You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.

You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.

And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.

Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You mean the hangover or this morning?”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”

You exhale in an amused little sniff.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”

“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.

“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!

“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”

“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”

You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”

You start crying.

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Mr. Pretty Face

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When you and Sam return to the motel after a drunken night out, the boys learn how you really feel about Dean.

Warnings: themes of alcohol, drunken karaoke, and just goofy random nonsense. Mentions of sexual feels, pining; implied Dean x reader. Fluff

A/N: I don’t know where this came from. lol. A random gif-inspired piece.  I would hope you recognize the song lyrics and references, so credit to Queen and Styx for those. Also slightly influenced by random moments from the tv shows New Girl and Mom haha.

“Alright, just a little bit further. Hey, be careful! Watch the—“

Sam huffed in frustration as you tripped over your own feet and stumbled into the doorframe, despite him supporting you with a firm arm wrapped around your waist.

“Owwww. Sam, I hit a wall...with my arm!” You drawled. “Why would they put a wall here? That’s a fun word— waaallll. A walllllll....”

You kept your tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth and dragged out the “L,” giggling at the sound it made.

“Yeah, Y/N. Real funny word,” Sam sighed, glancing down at you with mild concern.

“Sammy, it’s Deeeeeaaaannnn!” you gasped. “Dean is here!”

You heard Dean chuckle as Sam helped you collapse on the bed closest to the door.

“I see you two had a fun night out.”

You rolled to your stomach upon hearing his voice, propping your elbows on the mattress and resting your head on your hands. Your feet were hanging off the bed, so you slowly alternated kicking each leg up and down.

“You’re pretty,” you observed.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean grinned. “I was gonna ask how drunk she is, but I guess that answers my question.”

“She, uh, decided to give karaoke a shot...” Sam carded his fingers through his hair, tucking his locks behind his ears and shaking his head. “Everyone loved it so much, they bought her drinks the rest of the night.”

You beamed and began humming. Letting your hands fall from beneath your chin, you bobbed your head as you wiggled your fingers in the air in front of you.

“Need something?” Dean quirked an eyebrow.

“ScaraMOUCH, ScaraMOUCH, will you do the FanDANGO?” You rolled to your back and pointed finger guns at the ceiling with each syllable you sang. “THUNDER BOLTS AND LIGHTNING, VERY, VERY FRIGHTENING MEEEE--”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose before scooping you into his arms to slide you up the bed during your “Galileos.” You sank into the pillows, rolling your head side to side as you continued singing and conducting your invisible orchestra.

“She did Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“That explains the air piano solo,” Dean remarked.

The boys stood on either side of the bed and helped you out of your boots, socks, and flannel while you squirmed and finished the rest of your performance between fits of giggles. Sam lifted you once more so Dean pulled back the covers and tuck you in. He worked his way up your legs to your torso, tucking the fabric beneath you to make it at least a little more difficult for you to roll out of bed. When he was within your reach, you stretched a hand out and gently poked the tip of his nose.

“Boop.”

“I’m glad you had fun tonight. Wish I would’ve thought to record all of this to show you in the morning.”

“You’re so hip, Dean. Hip--that’s a fun word too. Hip, hip, hippp. ‘Pics or it didn’t haaappeeen.’“

Dean glanced over at Sam and they burst into laughter again at your behavior.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Welcome to my world. All night.”

“Ah, relax, Sammy. Think of how many times she’s had to take care of us--drunk or not. We don’t get the whole...cute, laughing, carefree thing very often.”

“Ewwwww, pantsssss,” you groaned, kicking away the covers.

Dean crossed the room wordlessly and began digging through your bag.

“Sam! Pssst, Sammyyyy,” you whispered loudly. “Don’t freak out...but I think your brother just said I’m cute.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Shhhhhh! He’s gonna hear you! Quick! Close your eyes so he can’t hear me.”

You covered your eyes with your hands and peeked at Sam between your fingers. He shook his head, pressing his lips in a hard line to conceal his smile. 

“I don’t think that’s how that... Actually, you know--nevermind. Sorry, Y/N. I’ll try to be more quiet.”

“’S’okay. Wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, well, I--”

“Secret, secret-- I’ve gotta sssecret,” you slurred as you sang again. “I wanna have the sex with your brothaaa.”

Across the room, Dean had still been smiling at your drunken rants. His amused expression became one of surprise as he creased his forehead and his eyebrows leaped toward his hairline. He drew in a deep breath, but otherwise stood motionless and gaping at your admission.

“That’s, uh...that’s nice, Y/N.” Sam swallowed uncomfortably and placed a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand beside you. “Maybe that’s something you should talk to him about.”

“I wanna have SEX with Deaaannn!”

“Okay--you, know what? On that note, I’m taking a shower and heading to bed. Dean, switch me beds and just...yeah. I’m officially passing her off to you.”

Sam scurried to the shared bathroom and quickly closed the door behind him. Your eyelids were growing heavy, but you grinned and waved when you slipped out of your drunken haze long enough to spot Dean again. He smiled at you gently and returned to your side with some clothes in hand.

“Alright. C’mon, Freddie Mercury. Let’s get you ready for bed,” he murmured as he began undoing your jeans with nimble fingers.

“Bowchicka wow wow.” You winked at him, kicking off your jeans ungracefully and giggling when they remained tangled at your ankles. “Look! No paaaantsss.”

“I see that.”

“Does that mean sexy times, says me, plus you?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” 

He helped you slip on your favorite pair of pajama shorts, then swapped out your tank top with one of his old t-shirts. When you “booed” and pouted your bottom lip out, he leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. Believe me...we’re gonna revisit this conversation tomorrow when I know it’s you talking and not all the booze. Deal?”

“Dealio Dean-io.”

Dean walked toward the door, making sure Sam had locked it properly before he turned off the lights. Leaving the lamp on the bedside table on for his brother, he crawled into bed beside you. He settled comfortably into the mattress and stretched an arm out, pulling you toward him so you could nestle into his chest.

“G’night, Y/N.”

“Night, Mr. Pretty Face,” you mumbled.

His chest rumbled beneath your ear as he chuckled quietly to himself. The feeling of his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and his soft humming were the last things you remembered as you finally drifted off to sleep.

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[1heartfanfics]

Drunk boyfriend

So we were hanging out and drinking with a group of friends from work. One of the guys brought his beer bong, so him and Carter both chugged a four locos, which is like actual trash alcohol for those of you who don't know. They're 14% alc and taste like battery acid.

The other guy immediately bent over and puked but Carter held his down. He sat down next to me with a hand on his stomach. "I feel like my insides are on fire," he said.

"I can't imagine why," I joked, nudging him with my shoulder a little. I was worried about him but I knew better than to ask him if he was okay in front of everyone.

"Dude that fucking killed me," the other guy, Devon, said once he finished throwing up.

Carter pressed his fist into his stomach, forcing up a loud burp. "Dude yeah I feel like I have a lead ball in my stomach," he agreed.

They both continued drinking immediately though. Devon started in on one of the beers he bought while Carter opened a twisted tea, which I'd already drank one of.

After a few sips though, he handed it to me. "Want some?" he asked.

I nodded, taking it from him and taking a sip. What he meant was that he needed a break but didn't want to say it out loud. I ended up finishing it for him, although not long after him and Devon bonged a beer each.

Now, Carter's a pretty big guy, although he's thin, so he can hold his alcohol pretty well. He can drink a lot and be okay. But he doesn't usually drink fast, and he doesn't usually drink beer. So that kinda did him in.

After that, he was drunk, I could tell. He's the kind of person who's usually still pretty functional even when he'd drunk. He can usually walk and talk mostly normally. But he was drunk. He was talking silly and stumbling around.

I was somewhere between drunk and tipsy after the next drink I had. I was also a little bit high after taking a few hits from my friend's vape.

That was when everyone decided that we should play kickball in the parking lot even though it was 1 am and raining. So we played kickball for about an hour. Or tried to anyway. When everyone's drunk and/or stoned it's a little difficult lol.

By the time we finished the game, everyone was exhausted and sweating our asses off, so we decided to call it a night and head home. Carter and I both lived close and had walked there, so after saying bye to everyone we started walking.

We didn't make it very far though before Carter grabbed my arm and tugged on it a little. When I turned to look at him he was slightly bent over, looking sweaty and pale in the light from the street lamp.

"Can we sit for a sec?" he asked, sounding out of breath.

"Yeah, of course," I said, leading him over to the grass next to the sidewalk. He immediately laid down, pulling me down with him. So we just laid in the grass for a minute.

"Spinny," he said, "I'm so drunk."

"Yeah I know, do you want to stay at my place tonight?" I asked. He has a habit of getting panicky when he's too drunk.

"Mmmhmm," he agreed, rolling over to press his face into my shoulder.

"Ready to get going?" I asked after a minute.

"Ughhhh yeah," he huffed, sitting up and flopping forward.

"Come on drunky," I said, standing up and holding my hands out to help him up.

We made it about halfway to my apartment that time before he stopped me again. This time when I turned to look at him I could tell he was very not okay. He was looking pretty sickly.

"I need to sit down," he said.

"Okay, come here," I grabbed his hand and pulled him over to a bench that was near the sidewalk.

As soon as we sat down he leaned over, dropping his head into his hands. I put my hand on his back, rubbing up and down.

"I feel sick,"

"Yeah I know, I'm sorry," I said sympathetically. I've definitely been there, a lot more times than he has.

"Oh god," he cut himself off with a gag, "I'm gonna throw up."

"Hey, you're okay, I'm right here," I said softly, scooting a little closer and wrapping my arm around him.

He dry heaved over the ground for a few minutes but didn't actually bring anything up. Once he was able to breath normally again he slumped against my side, burying his face in my shoulder.

"Alright, let's try walking again okay? We need to get you in bed," I said, trailing my fingers up and down his back and leaning my head against his.

"Hnnggg mmkay," he slurred, sounding more drunk by the minute. I wrapped my arm around his waist and stood up, pulling him with me. I picked up his phone and his keys from where he'd left them on the bench, stuffing them into my purse with my own stuff.

"Come on, I've got you," I said, keeping my arm around him, my hand resting on his hip.

"I dn't feel s'good Summer" he groaned, leaning against my side.

"I know, we'll take it slow I promise," I said, doing my best to support his weight as he leaned more and more of it against me.

"I can't dothis," he slurred, feet dragging on the concrete as he slowed.

"We're almost there Carter. You'll feel much better once you're laying down in bed," I pressed my hand against his back, urging him forward.

By the time we made it to my apartment he was practically in tears and had most of his body weight leaning on me. I unlocked my door and dragged him inside and onto my bed.

“Just relax okay? I’ll be right back,” I said, squeezing his hip before heading into the kitchen. I got us some water and grabbed a trash can then walked back to my room.

“Summer I feel sick,” he said as soon as I sat down on the bed.

“Sit up and take a drink for me, it might help,” I said.

He whined and thrashed around a bit but slowly maneuvered himself up into a sitting position. He took the glass from me, spilling some of it on both of us in the process, but he managed to take a few sips. I drank a bit myself, then took both cups and set them on my nightstand.

“Alright, now lay down with me,” I said, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and pulling him down with me. He curled up to my side, laying his head on my chest and draping an arm over me. After a moment he pressed himself even closer, tightening his arm around me and tucking his hand under my shoulder. I brought my hand up to rest on the back of his head, running my fingers through his hair.

"Shh, you're okay, this feeling will pass," I said quietly, leaning my head against his.

"M'nauseous," he moaned, squirming in discomfort.

"Just try to breathe through it," I said, "but there's a trash can on the floor beside the bed if you need to be sick," I added.

"Don't wanna-" he cut himself off with a burp, which he muffled into my shirt.

"I know, hopefully you won't have to," I said.

He almost never gets sick from drinking. Even when he drinks way too much he's usually able to hold it down. In fact I think the only time i've ever seen him throw up from drinking he ended up actually being sick.

Unfortunately however, that was not the case. A couple of minutes later he burped again, long and low, then groaned under his breath. He rolled off of me and pushed himself up, swaying as he tried to sit.

"Hey.." I sat up too, moving to sit slightly behind him, one hand resting on his back, waiting for what we both knew was going to happen.

He took a slow, forced breath, sounding shaky. I scooted closer, looping an arm around his chest to help steady him as he leaned over the side of the bed.

"You're okay, just keep breathing. I've got you," I said softly.

He pitched forward and coughed, which morphed into a dry heave. After a gasping breath in his body convulsed again, this time bringing up a wave of alcohol into the trash can on my floor. He moaned, slumping forward with another wave.

I moved to sit behind him, with one leg on either side, so I could wrap both of my arms around him and make sure he didn't fall off the bed. I could feel him shaking as I pressed myself up against his back.

"Easy, Carter, you're doing great, it'll be over soon," I told him.

After coughing up one more mouthful of puke and belching queasily he seemed to be done. I pulled him back away from the edge of the bed to rest against my chest. He leaned against me limply, head lolling to lay back on my shoulder. I turned and pressed a kiss to his forehead, wrapping him up in my arms and rocking him a little bit.

"Think you're done?" I asked after a minute.

"Hmm," he answered noncommittally.

"You want to try another sip of water? Get the taste out of your mouth?" I asked.

He groaned out an answer that I'm pretty sure meant no, but I reached to grab the glass anyway, pressing it into his hand.

"Just a little sip, please," I urged him.

He accepted the glass with shaky hands, bringing it hesitantly up to his lips to take a small drink. I took it back from him and set it down, wrapping my arms around him again.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked.

"Drunk."

"Spinning still?"

"Yeah kind of," he sighed. He wasn't slurring his words anymore at least so he was probably coming down now that he got some of it out of his system.

"How's your stomach?" I asked.

"Still sick," he shrugged, "Less nauseous though I think."

"Okay, well that's good at least. Do you think you could try to fall asleep? I'll put something on TV and we can stay up as long as you need to but it would be good to try and sleep this off," I suggested.

He rolled over onto his side, facing away from me, but scooted back until he was pressed up against my front. I snaked my arm over his waist and he grabbed my hand, moving it to rest over his stomach.

"Will you stay like this?" he asked sleepily.

"Of course, I've got you," I whispered, leaning over him slightly to kiss his cheek before laying back down.

He squirmed around for a little bit but was able to fall asleep pretty fast. The next morning however he did not feel good either...

[bcbdrums]

What Happens In Vegas

A/N: A silly little gift fic for split-n-splice, partially inspired by this amazing art and also inspired by my imaginings of things she's teased are to come in her outstanding fanfiction, The Company You Keep.

Do view her art, do read her fic... Laugh at my nonsense if you so choose.

Read on:  FFn     AO3

Mature rated fic, you have been warned.

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

Drakken was lying on his back when he woke up to a severe throbbing at the front of his skull. As he opened his eyes to a powerful light, the pain spread like claws out across the rest of his head, and after covering his face with both forearms to block out the blinding brilliance, he realized its source was a ceiling light.

The next thing he became aware of was a very soft yet definitely solid something under his knees, keeping them elevated. And then a tight pain in his feet.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself upright, and he almost fell again as he wiped the drool from the side of his face.

'What happened...?'

His vision was swimming, and through the fog he saw waves of pale green on either side of his knees, surrounded by white and pale pink. His fingers gripped the fabric of what he realized were bed sheets, and before his vision cleared, as he stared at his bare blue legs and came to the realization that the rest of him was bare too, he suddenly knew just what—or rather, who—the soft green mass beneath him was.

"Shego?" he whispered fearfully.

He didn't want to jump to conclusions about what had happened, as his clearing vision began to reveal a spartan motel room surrounding them, but it seemed...like it was a fair assumption to make.

He shifted and felt the tight pain in his feet again, and his brow furrowed as he looked down and saw a familiar pair of black high heels on his feet that most definitely were not his. As he reached to pull them off with a grimace, a glinting of gold caught his eye and his eyes widened as he thrust his hand up to only inches from his nose, squinting at the metal band on the fourth finger of his left hand.

'How...?'

"Ungh..."

The groan from the figure face down on the bed showed his whisper hadn't been soft enough. But he was glad she was waking up, in hopes she might be able to provide answers, and not the ones his mind was insistent on hammering into his aching skull, now with images. A panicked confusion arrested his mind as he realized the images weren't mere groggy fantasies, but memories.

"Shego?" he said a bit more loudly.

Her hands flew to cover her ears as her body began to twist beneath his legs, and then she held her head as if in pain as another groan escaped her.

"What...? My head..."

She started to push upright and Drakken hurriedly removed his legs from her back. This action seemed to startle her to attention, and she sat bolt upright, eyes wide and blinking around them in confusion and fright.

"What? What hap— Dr. D.?"

He watched as she took in the room in mere moments, his nude form afterward, and then herself. Drakken snatched the only pillow left on the bed to cover himself, and then felt guilty as his eyes strayed lower than her face. It was all coming back to him. And he knew that every possible repercussion from what they had done involved him experiencing pain in some way.

What he hadn't expected, however, was for Shego to burst into tears.

"Sh...Shego?" he asked in confusion and concern as she buried her face in her hands, not even bothering to cover herself. His vision clearing at last, he glanced past her at the small purple pharmacy-type box on the nightstand with its colorful promises, and then at the mess on the floor.

The other pillows were everywhere, along with a blanket, their clothes, numerous empty and still sealed bottles of alcohol, and...a scattering of too many wrappers and used condoms.

Drakken swallowed as more and more images flooded back to his mind and tried desperately to calm his panic. He shifted closer to her and felt the tight pain again, and with a scowl he pulled her high heeled shoes off his feet and pushed them aside.

"Shego..." Drakken said again, this time his voice coming out choked and pained. He realized then his throat was hoarse. "Shego I'm sorry..."

Shego wiped her nose twice with the back of her hands, but her eyes remained closed as her bawling grew louder. Drakken glanced at where they sat and after a moment, tentatively tossed the sheet over her lap for a hint of modesty.

"I don't...I don't remember exactly how it started..." he continued, desperation beginning to take over as she wouldn't even acknowledge him. "I remember we were at the casino, and we were drinking... You ordered us two more shots after I'd said it was enough... But Shego please, please know...if I had thought for one instant you didn't want... That this wasn't... I know we were drunk, but you...you took us to the gift shop, and bought that box... You said you couldn't wait and so we got this room... I know I wasn't thinking straight but...but you wanted..."

Drakken trailed off as he wondered if Shego was even hearing him, her sobs continuing unfettered.

"I...I thought you... I know I was very drunk, but I'm...v-very...positive...that this was all your idea... And Shego it would have never, ever entered my mind to... Had I been sober I would have never dreamed of... Shego? Wh-Why aren't you saying anything?"

Drakken had expected rage, green flames, and a verbal assault at the very least. Not the endless streams of crocodile tears that kept falling down her face. Her hands remained uselessly in her lap as her shoulders shook with sobs, and glancing around, Drakken spotted a tissue box that had just avoiding falling off the nightstand—the lamp hadn't.

He leaned over and grabbed a few, and when he pushed them into her hands it startled her. She blinked down at them, and then up at him, her expression unreadable. Drakken bit his lip then as he cautiously reached over her shoulders and pulled her hair to her front to give her more modesty. Shego looked down at this, sniffled once, and then exploded into further sobs.

The panicked confusion continued to race across Drakken's nerves as he watched her cry, a response like nothing he'd ever seen out of his partner in crime save when under the influence of the Moodulator. And even that hadn't been this bad.

"Shego, I... I..."

Drakken finally hung his head with a heavy sigh. If she was so upset to not even...unleash her fury, he knew it was far too great a crime to forgive.

"I'm sorry, Shego," he said quietly, fidgeting lightly with the edge of the pillowcase. "You can...consider your contract fulfilled, and...you can have anything you want in severance. I... I'm so sorry."

He started to shift away from her, thinking to give her some privacy until she was ready to either unleash her fury or apparently leave him without so much as that. He wasn't prepared for her suddenly seizing his arm, and his breath caught. It was about to happen.

"I can't remember any of it," were the words that came from Shego's lips, choked and thick.

Drakken blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I've been trying..." Shego forced out through sobs, "to get you into bed...for two years... And it finally happened—"

Her eyes opened at last and glanced sideways into the room.

"Several times..."

Drakken followed her gaze and he bit his cheek in nervous confusion as he looked at the used condoms.

"And I can't remember any of it!"

Drakken relaxed, shifting nearer to her as she continued to cry, albeit less loudly, finally making use of the tissues he had offered. Once they were spent he hurriedly placed the box in front of her, and she took out another.

"Wait, Shego, you...you...wanted...to get me into bed?" Drakken finally asked, shaking his head in confusion—which he regretted instantly for the hangover.

"Mr. Can't Read Signals when they're literally right in front of his face," Shego grumbled.

"What signals?" he asked, still reeling from the idea that Shego was actually interested.

"All the flirting," Shego said plainly, her tears beginning to still.

"What flirting...?"

Shego looked up and narrowed her reddened eyes on him. "Are you really that dense?"

"Shego, what flirting!?" Drakken said, racking his brain for any time outside of her absurd behavior while under the influence of the Moodulator, either before or after given the time frame she indicated, that could have been considered flirting.

Shego scoffed. "You mean you didn't notice me leaning up into your space, getting so close I could blow on your ear, or putting my chest right at your eye level while you worked?"

Drakken had a flash of memory of times when Shego would suddenly be in front of him, blocking his view of what he was working on, or leaning between him and his tools, or whispering about nothing so close to him that he couldn't concentrate.

He blinked at her several times in succession as he realized...she was serious.

"...What?" Shego said, wiping her nose again and then hugging herself.

"I thought you were trying to annoy me," Drakken said.

"...What!?"

"I didn't know you were flirting! It...didn't come across that way," Drakken said, trailing off at the end as he saw the flashing of green eyes across from him.

Shego screamed. She threw her hands up in the air for a moment and then let them fall at her sides, seemingly finally spent of tears as she blinked at nothing on the bed sheets.

"Shego...why?" Drakken asked.

Shego began gathering the sheet up around herself to wear as a toga.

"Well if it isn't obvious now, blue bonehead, I have a major crush on you. But since the feeling isn't mutual I guess I'll just stop making a fool of myself and—"

Drakken's hand on her arm halted her words at the same time a gasped 'no' left his lips.

"Let me go!"

"Shego."

"This is humiliating enough," she said, struggling against his grip.

"Shego. Look at what happened."

Drakken gestured broadly to the mess of the room, and Shego followed his gaze. She blinked several times as she took in what to him was a very embarrassing scene, the room looking as if it had been trashed by a group of rowdy party-goers and not just defiled by a drunken couple in lust. Or...could it be more?

"Wh-What on earth made you think it wasn't mutual?" Drakken continued, his voice a mixture of nervous, embarrassed, and annoyed. "I've spent four years trying to hide my feelings for you."

"What?" Shego asked, her eyes snapping back to his.

Drakken looked down. "Yes, well... It wouldn't be appropriate, a boss and an employee..."

"Four years?" she said incredulously.

"Sorry," Drakken said, keeping his eyes on his slightly swollen feet.

It was quiet. And then, "Hmmm..."

Drakken looked up at Shego's thoughtful, almost playful tone.

"What?"

"Wouldn't be appropriate, you say?" Her tell-tale smirk was starting to return.

"No..." Drakken said, finding his mouth suddenly dry.

Shego grinned. "I quit."

"What!?"

"How many rubbers came in that box?"

Drakken blinked rapidly, his mind processing her intent so fast that he'd pounced on the purple box on the nightstand and was yanking its contents out onto the bed before he could realize he'd nearly knocked her down in the process.

"There's three left," he said, peering into the empty box as if more would somehow materialize at his will.

"Then put some clothes on and go buy some more," Shego said decisively.

"What, why?" Drakken asked in annoyance.

"Well I count nine all over this room," Shego said. Drakken's face flushed. "Since I can't remember any of that, we're going to have to make up for it all before we leave."

Shego scooped up Drakken's boxers from the floor by the bedside and tossed them at him.

Drakken grinned as he shimmied into them. As he did so, the light glinted off the gold of his ring, and he glanced over at Shego as she began tossing more of his clothes at him. A matching band adorned her slimmer finger. Drakken looked around, and for the first time he noticed the half-folded piece of paper stuck out of the drawer of the nightstand. His brow twisted with nerves but it couldn't stop his smile growing.

"I guess...this is a good time to point out we got married?" Drakken said.

[anotheranimestan]

Picking Up His Drunk Girlfriend: Iwaizumi

Ft. drunk Oikawa (of course)

Fluff fluff fluff + suggestive language

Time skip

wc: 1.6k

I’m obsessed with this man and his 💪

When you informed Iwaizumi that Oikawa was taking you out clubbing he was visibly upset. Not because you were going out to get drunk without him but because his idiot best friend was going to be there. Oikawa always overdid things when it came to nights out. He was a wild one and you were easy to rile up. A dangerous mix.

Many a nights he’d warn you to take it easy only to have to come save you from numerous club jails or even worse, Oikawa went out cold and Iwa had to carry his ass home.

So it was no surprise when your message lit up his screen.

You were lucky he even saw it considering it was 2am and he was sleeping. But he always had trouble getting a deep sleep when he knew you were out, probably getting into trouble.

You stood outside huddled in the cold. Iwa was always so quick about picking you up. He knew if he took too long you guys might get allured to another location before he could catch you.

You eagerly awaited his arrival. Seeing him was always the perfect end to a fun night. Picturing his cute face was making you all tingly inside.

And there he was. Your sexy ass boyfriend in his sleek black car. You hungrily opened the passenger door and climbed into the seat. But you didn’t stop there. You continued trying to climb onto his lap so you could attack his lips.

But he pushed you away. “Sit down. I’m driving.”

You huff and feel your whole body go tense with irritation. “You could at least pretend to be happy to see me.” You pout sliding down into your seat.

This was not the completely-irresistible-girlfriend romantic moment you were expecting from him when he arrived.

He was irritated with you but only because he was tired. But even in this sleep deprived state he couldn’t let you be upset or kiss deprived.

He leaned over, grabbed your pouty face and smacked a big kiss on you, to put you at ease.

Serotonin immediately flooded your whole body and just like that you were drooling for him again.

“Oya, Iwa-chan, can I get one too?” Oikawa teased from the back seat. He was even bold enough to lean over the center console, making smooching noises in your boyfriend’s ear. It earned him a backhand to the face from Iwa’s giant hand. He dramatically fell into the back seat, half whining half laughing.

Your chauffeur put it into gear and placed his free hand on your thigh, anticipating your longing to snuggle up on his arm.

“Where are we going?” Oikawa chirped.

“Where do you think? Dumbass.”

He huffed. “You don’t need to be mean Iwa-chan!”

“I’m not driving you home. You can sleep on my floor and get yourself home tomorrow...or later today I guess.” Iwa said grimacing at the time on the clock.

“The floor!? You have a couch!”

“How did I get dragged into this anyways.”

“Because you love us.” You mused.

He didn’t reply. Just a look of hopeless acknowledgment flashed over his face. He knew you were exactly right.

You placed a kiss on his arm and nuzzled his hand onto your face. You gave it plenty of kisses as well.

You loved the way his skin felt. Tough and calloused from constant weightlifting but still smooth somehow. He must be using that fancy lotion you bought him recently. You practically swooned at the thought. He was extra dreamy in your current intoxicated state. You were just aching to eat him up. He noticed you intently staring at him the whole car ride with hearts in your eyes. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

When you all arrived at his place he let you snuggle him the entire walk inside. Meanwhile, he locked the car doors before Oikawa even managed to drag himself out.

“Here. And actually drink it.” He instructed, wrapping your fingers around a water bottle. He threw the other one at Oikawa’s head.

“You’re going to regret treating me like this.” Oikawa stuck his tongue out as a blanket was chucked at his face.

“Come on. No more fighting.” You giggled as you pulled your large boyfriend into his bedroom before Oikawa got himself beat up.

It was completely dark except the faintest light from a street lamp peeking through the blinds.

“Mmmm, I’ve been waiting for this allllll night.” The seductive words spilled off your lips like honey.

Iwa quickly found himself sitting on the edge of the bed with you pressed up against him. His hands instinctively took their place on your ass as you zeroed on his neck.

He’d barely had the chance to react before you’d given him several love bites. But you were careful to not leave any marks of course.

He chucked. “Ah, no you don’t.” He tried to pry you off him but you were a fighter. Once he detached your arm from his neck, your leg would come up as reinforcement. After a few moments of this, his rejection hit you and you drained.

You retracted yourself and stepped backwards pouting again. Why didn’t he want you? He obviously didn’t find you sexy.

“Fine.”

Your wilted voice, your pouting stance, it was so cute to him. He secretly loved when you were drunk because you always did something that made him want to squeeze you to death.

“No stop all that. Come back over here.” He said slightly amused.

You tried to run away but he easily caught you and dragged you back to stand between his legs again.

“Baby—” he started.

“No it’s fine Iwa, I get it.” You tried to pull away again. “I’ll go take the other side of the couch with Toru—” A blatant fib.

“Baby...” his voice was deep as he pressed his lips against you so you’d listen. “I’m tired, I know you’re sleepy...right?” You couldn’t deny it. “Mhm yea, look you can barely keep your eyes open. Let’s just go to bed and we can do this tomorrow.” You tried to avoid his charm by not making direct eye contact. But it was no use. His voice alone was winning you over. He squeezed your face with one hand so your lips puckered and pulled you to look at him. His eyes were soft as they soaked in your features. “Sound good?”

You nodded. How could you say no? He was too good at this.

“Good.” A small smile spread across his face. Swoon.

He retrieved one of the makeup wipes from the package you kept in his nightstand (this wasn’t the first time Oikawa got you this wasted) and started rubbing what was left of your makeup off your cheeks.

“Okay you do this,” he handed you the wipe to finish the job, “and let’s go to the sink.”

He walked with you, making sure to keep as much physical contact with you as possible so you didn’t start pouting again.

“Hey friendsss!” Oikawa said half fallen asleep as you two walked through the hall. Iwa just flipped him off and shuffled you quickly into the bathroom before you got distracted.

The sharp contrast in Iwa’s communication styles between you and his friends was alarming. With you he was sweet and only slightly his normal tough guy self. But with others, particularly Oikawa, a brawl could start at any moment. Punching was his love language. And you’d obviously be cheering for your boyfriend in any fight. Those muscles? You were definitely an Iwa fan-girl. The only one he wanted too.

While washing your face and brushing your teeth you made sure he was pressed snug against your back so you could press your ass up against him. If he wasn’t going to give you any action he could at least give you this.

He accepted this compromise with no complaints. Just enjoyed the view and ran his hands up and down your waist and thighs, giving then some gentle possessive squeezes.

Back in his room now, he sat you on his bed.

“I’ll get you a shirt.”

You’d started stripping your clubbing clothes and throwing them around the room at random.

“No!” You grabbed the hem of the shirt he was wearing. “I want this one.” You said with a sneaky little innocent smile.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes but immediately succumbed to your request. You drooled as he unveiled his ridiculous body.

Your hands flew onto him like magnets, petting and kissing every muscle you could reach while he wrestled his shirt on you.

With a sigh, he’d finally wrangled you in. He stretched out under his covers with a yawn. It was 3am now and he was completely exhausted.

“Come here.” He cooed as he tugged you down onto his bare chest, completely engulfing you in his arms.

His warm chest was rock hard but still made the perfect pillow.

“One more kiss before bed?” You asked as politely as possible.

He laid there with his eyes closed for a moment and released a deep exhale.

“You can say no.” You said honestly. You already were in pure bliss.

He looked down at you, his drunk adorable girlfriend. Propping your chin up with his finger he pressed his lips onto your minty ones. He kissed you passionately, like he’d missed you tonight. Like you’d been gone for ages not hours. His tongue even slipped in to twirl with yours for a few moments. He finished the kiss by tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth leaving it red and plump just like he liked it.

“Mm, that’s what I’ve been waiting all night for.”

You smiled and nuzzled into his chest as you both finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

~~

Read the Tsukishima ver here

Check out more of my Haikyuu content here

[heloflor]

So, given that I didn’t have much time to work on fics recently because school, I’ve decided to relieve some stress by making a random representation of how I imagine Cavendish and Dakota’s house in their time-period looks like. And since I have no plans to ever describe it in detail in a fic, here it is ! Though, given how bad I am with designs, showing the house is mostly an excuse to infodump on domestic headcanons.

Regarding the last names, I didn’t make a typo for Cav. I like to imagine the two getting married way before the events of the show, with Cav taking “Dakota” as a last name, mostly because he got several siblings in-law on the Dakota side who adopted him on the spot.

And about the representation of the house : yeah it looks like shit. Since I can’t draw, I’ve decided to do something rather quick using MSPaint but yeah, not the best thing in the world. Though, if I get back to playing the Sims 3 at some point and end up making a Dwampyverse savefile, I’ll most likely try to recreate that house and could share a few pics.

I also went with a rectangular house with one floor instead of some futuristic-looking thing, mostly because I have no imagination when it comes to design. Though, you could still use the excuse that they want something more “old-timey” given their job or that they don’t have all the money of the world so they chose a simple house for the small cost. But yeah, by the end of the day, the choice is mostly because I can’t design shit.

But still one thing in my defense : looking at episodes that take place in the future like “Missing Milo” or “First Impressions”, it seems that most buildings are square-y with the roof being the weirdly-shaped part, with B.O.T.T. being one of the few exceptions. And looking at “A Christmas Peril”, the buildings are definitely more wacky but it’s 20 years later so…

I could also mention that I’m a bit unsatisfied with how empty the living-room and the bedroom ended up being but I’m drawing a total blank when trying to come up with the kind of stuff Vinnie and Balth would have that are linked to their interests. Though, maybe the excuse of them not being often at the house works ? Idk. Let’s just say I have ideas for the “basic” stuff, aka what you find in basically every single middle-class house, but draw a complete blank for anything that’s decorative. Still posting a map of the house tho because I don’t really consider it a work in progress if I simply have no idea and may never do. I’m very bad at design so bear with me on that one ! It’s not only about the house, it’s also about the fluffy headcanons !

So here’s under the cut some random info about the look of the rooms and furniture + a bunch of headcanons regarding Vinnie and Balth’s lives in this house. For each part of the house, you first have the info about how it looks first and then the headcanons.

Those headcanons are made with the idea that Vinnie and Balth are married (duh) but also, for a few, that Vinnie has three siblings + a few in-laws that he has a good relationship with.

(very long post ahead)

General :

- They bought the house in 2162, 2 years after getting married.

- It’s in the suburbs, or at least what the future version of the suburbs would look like. In other words, the presence of a backyard is debatable.

- There could be a garage for their time vehicle, so that they don’t have to go to headquarters every single day. And if not an actual garage, there’s at least some space to put it. In both cases, it would be near the bedroom’s side of the house.

- While the walls outside would have that futuristic “metallic” look, the walls inside would be a bit warmer. At the very least, the inside isn’t “future metallic white”, especially with Vinnie having photophobia.

- The intensity of the lights in every room can be adjusted. That way, Vinnie can put the dimmest light and navigate the house without his glasses. This is mostly useful for showering and midnight snacks.

- When they went house-hunting, Balth was the one who insisted that they needed a place with those kinds of lights. This is also the same kind of lights that Vinnie had in his now-former apartment.

- You know how near the end of the episode “First Impressions” you have Balth going into Mr. Block’s office ? Well, the way the door opens in that moment is how the door opens for every room of the house, perhaps excluding the main entrance (I like the idea of their front door being an “old” one, aka the “normal” doors we have today).

- Every room would have a spot that can create “tactile panels”, like some holographic tablet that can be used to change the settings of the house, for example changing the lights or the internet or even lock the doors and blinds.

- In 2175, when they were forced to leave the future, Vinnie stole a device from B.O.T.T. that made him able to create some kind of forcefield around the house that only he and Balth can remove. So, even if they’re not there anymore, the house still is theirs and can’t be sold to anyone else. And before you ask why B.O.T.T. didn’t simply send agents to bring the duo back and force them to open the shield : the forcefield works with hand-scan detection and Vinnie convinced Balth to use their left hands, the hands with the wedding rings. So if time-agents come knocking, they could try convincing the agents to let them use the bathroom first and they could wash their hands and use the soap to remove the rings. That way, the scan wouldn’t work and the agents would have no way of knowing why.

    Living room :

- There’s more furniture than showed here like souvenirs from previous missions or some random stuff that belongs to them. I just don’t have enough imagination. : /

- Likewise, the corridor has a few pictures or posters, like pictures that Vinnie didn’t have the space to put in his memory room but still wanted to display. Also, I want to say that Vinnie would display pictures of his family (sibling, in-laws and nephews) but I’ll see him more as having an album for family pictures, or a framed picture on his nightstand.

- There could definitely be a carpet or two. They would either be modern ones to fit the fact that they’re from the future or vintage stuff found in some of their missions. One of the carpets would be under the coffee table. Another would be in the big-ass space between the living-room and the kitchen, or in the corridor.

- The style is a mix between old and new stuff, with also a few things related to their interests. Like, for example, the couch could have an animal pattern or something (AND BY THAT I DON’T MEAN REAL ANIMAL FUR).

- Speaking of the couch, after looking up “futuristic couch” on the internet, they would absolutely have one of those gigantic couches that have like a bed attached to them due to how big they are. Btw I have no idea which company came up with this design and I couldn’t care less. It’s just that the design looks cool and would fit a futuristic house.

- The side table is a floating square, given how we see in “A Christmas Peril” that tables in the future don’t have feet anymore (that’s one way to protect your toes).

- The floor lamp is more futuristic. It’s like a white orb attached to a lamp foot.

- The TV is attached to the wall. The remote is some kind of holographic tablet, kind of like the house settings thingy.

  - This is where Balth would spend most of his mornings and evenings when they stay home. He’d just be sitting with a cup of tea, most of the time also a book, with the sun illuminating the room, just feeling comfortable and peaceful. The side table/cube was bought specifically for Balth’s tea. He would also use the lamp while reading in the late evening, either for the peace of having little to no light and solely focusing on the book or as a way for Vinnie to be in the room with the lights at the lowest setting. And speaking of Vinnie, he would sometimes join his husband on the couch, lying down with his head resting on Balth’s legs (cue Vinnie falling asleep, leading to a frustrated Balth who needs to pee but doesn’t want to wake him up).

- Since there’s a mini-table for when Balth drinks tea, the table right in front of the couch is mostly used for Vinnie to rest his legs on.

- And speaking of fluffy headcanons : movie nights. From time to time, aka minimum once a month, probably more, the couple would be in their pajamas cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, with Dennis resting in Balth’s arms.

For the movie choices, Balth would choose science-fiction, especially if there are any Professor-Time-themed movies, but also historical fiction (for some reason I tend to see Balth as having a liking for history ? I think it’s because of the way he dresses + his small rant about pirates in “Game Night” ? Idk honestly. It’s mostly a random headcanon that’s here for some weird reason). As for Vinnie, it’s mostly animal documentaries (Balth falls asleep halfway through but Vinnie doesn’t notice until after it’s over) or animated/family movies (the future equivalent of D*sney, S*ny pitcures, P*xar etc. Which are movies Balth would enjoy as well). For some weird reason I’ll also see the two of them being into mystery movies (crime-solving movies basically).

And if they sometimes decide to watch other genres, I could see Balth having a liking for some romance movies, because for some reason I like the idea of Balth being sappy. Besides, the guy is passionate when it comes to proving himself at his jobs and takes them pretty seriously in order to reach his objective. And given how he can be insecure and sometimes feels like a ball of anxiety, who’s to say he isn’t passionate when it comes to love too ? And no, I don’t mean passionate as in “making out all the time”, I mean passionate as in taking relationships seriously and making it work while also wishing to make sure his partner knows that he’s loved, even if Balth isn’t really the best at expressing his affection all the time.

On a different note, to get back to other genres : Vinnie would probably like horror movies. Because if cuddling in front of a sappy movie is great, having your husband show his love and trust for you by clinging to your arm out of fear is even better, nevermind the fact that you’re as terrified as he is.

    Kitchen :

- It’s one of those kitchens with two walls of cupboards/cabinets, both on the ground and elevated. One of the cabinets is used entirely for snacks. Because Vinnie.

- The wall separating the kitchen and the living room “has a hole in it”. It’s like you have a small wall with cupboards, a hole, and a wall connected to the ceiling with a few cabinets. Basically, you look up “kitchen cupboards” and imagine that the space in-between is a hole instead of the wall (why is it so hard to explain something so simple ?).

- This would be the most futuristic-looking room of their house. Looking up at references, they’re that Pinterest post showing a room with white cabinets with round corners and what seems to be slide doors. This is pretty much how I’ll see their kitchen, except bigger, with a different wall color and with one wall not being here (see above).

- The table is floating because of course it does. The chairs don’t tho. Also the chairs are as futuristic as the rest of the room. And looking up the internet again, the chairs are shaped like chairs.

  - So I put a stove but tbh I’m not sure how much these two would cook, given how in the show they’re always seen eating out (granted they don’t have a kitchen in their ‘apartment’ in Milo’s time). And given how most things seem automatized in the future, let’s just assume that the house can do most of the cooking itself with like a robot (aka plot-convenience technology) but still needs the necessary furniture and ingredients for the recipes. Also, if there’s an issue with their cooking system, they’ll probably know a few recipes and can feed themselves (Vinnie’s oldest brother Enzie would definitely teach his younger siblings a few recipes, at least enough to survive on their own. And he would be more than happy to teach his brother in-law as well).

- I put 4 chairs at the table but honestly I could see them keep 2 at all times and put the others in the storage room, especially the times they get very busy with their job for a few weeks and don’t have the time for social life.

- At some point, Balth probably tried to convince Vinnie to have better food habits and tried to put his snacks on the higher shelves. Not only did it not work because chairs exist but also it led to Vinnie getting frustrated. So Balth dropped it. Though, he would still try to talk Vinnie into working out to stay rather healthy.

    Memories room :

- Vinnie’s personal space. He basically saw the third biggest room of the house and went “mine now” and Balth had no issue letting him have it (hard to say no when Vinnie’s eyes shine like that).

- He already had a memory room in his old apartment.

- Basically, Vinnie brings back souvenirs from his missions, along with pictures he took, and put them on display. For more information, I made a post about it a while ago, so check it out if you want info on it.

And side note : I learned more about ADHD and autism later on and found out that the correct word for Vinnie’s passion for animals is a special interest, not a hyperfixation. The main difference between the two terms is how long your interest last. The reason I used “hyperfixation” in my post is because 1. I didn’t know that “special interest” was a term that existed and 2. people with ADHD kept talking about having hyperfixations and most people see Vinnie as having ADHD. So yeah, my bad for using the wrong term. And while I won’t change the current text from my post, especially with someone in the notes correcting me (I don’t want them to look like an idiot), I’ll definitely add a few words at the end of the post about it.

 - This is where Vinnie spends most of his time when at home, trying to keep the room in the best condition.

- There’s a window in the room but Vinnie condemned it in case some of his souvenirs were sensitive to the sunlight.

- The room is made entirely of shelves, with like four-five rows on the same wall. The shelves are either integrated into the walls or they’re floating because future. In any cases, there’s nothing around the shelves, it’s just shelves with stuff on it.

- When you enter the room, one of the rows of shelves next to you has all the animal-related stuff he gathered before starting a relationship with Balth. The rest of the room can have a few animal-themed objects but the pictures tend to be more linked to him and Balth.

- Likewise, when you enter the room, on the shelf you’re immediately facing, there’s a miniature recreation of their wedding altar with their wedding picture in its center. The miniature is made out of the future equivalent of papier-mâché and the altar is themed around time-travel with objects from all kinds of time-periods and cultures. And for those who might ask regarding the picture : Vinnie has a black suit and carries the bouquet while Balth has a white suit. Both have a hat that’s basically Balth’s usual hat (with the Professor-Time goggles, because themed wedding) but colored like their respective suit.

    Balthazar’s office :

- The room has quite a few libraries but this is mostly decorations. Basically, this room is more of an 1800th century study than anything, especially a rich/royal study. Yeah, for some reason I see Balth as having an office that’s just “rich 1800th century” aesthetic. I think it’s from the headcanon of him being a runaway prince 🤔.

- So yeah. The bookcases are vintage, the piano is your usual black piano, the armchairs are vintage and tbh Balth almost never uses them because he’d rather read in the living room, and the desk is vintage, though the stuff on the desk is futuristic. Balth is up to date with the technology he’s using to work, he just likes the older aesthetic for the rest.

- On his desk, despite literally living with the guy, Balth has a framed picture of Vinnie (again, I want the stubborn gay disaster to be sappy from time to time, with his love language being small touches and attention to details like for example being able to quickly see the kinds of foods Vinnie like the most so that when he’s in a bad mood, Balth can get him that specific food to make it better ; or learning Vinnie’s body language to know when he’s upset or bothered by something).

  - Balth mostly spends his time here to make the reports on their missions or work some administration stuff when needed. When he isn’t at his desk, he’s there to play the piano.

And yes, I throw out the window that line from “Backwards to School Night” that indicates Vinnie doesn’t know about Balth playing piano but tbh I ignore or question quite a few things from this episode such as : the line indicating that Vinnie and Balth don’t live together in their time-period since Balth doesn’t know Vinnie’s weekend habits ; the line about how the ray thing age you down to 90% your current age and yet baby Vinnie seems younger than the parents despite his adult self seeming older; the fact that Melissa read a book 16 times in the span of 6 minutes ; the fact that it’s called a “age regressor ray” and not a “age regressor ray-inator” (seriously, I am the only one always expecting Vinnie to say “inator” and being disappointed when he doesn’t ?).

- The couple absolutely sing songs together with Balth playing the piano. Or at least Vinnie would sing a song in the middle of the living-room and have Balth be annoyed by it, only for Vinnie to hear Balth play the same song on the piano later and join him.

    Bathroom :

- Not much to say here. It’s a bathroom. It’s futuristic-looking. The mirror is a cabinet. The tub is round. The bin comes in and out of the wall. The clothes drier also irons the clothes. The toilet is glued to the wall. The walls are dark gray or dark blue or at least a darker color so that Vinnie doesn’t have to dim the lights to the lowest level when he’s showering. There are also several little lights along with a main one so that Vinnie can light the small ones instead of getting a headache due to the brighter light. During lazy/slow days, Balth would take baths instead of showers (and Vinnie would want to join him to make out). Balth may or may not sing in the shower (Vinnie definitely does). That’s pretty much it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

    Guest/Storage room :

- Only used as a guest room when one or several members of the Dakota family are visiting the states and end up in the Tri-State-Area. So for 90% of the time, the room is used as storage.

- Bed’s not that big and very “squary”. Might or might not be floating.

- It’s mostly random junk that they don’t know where to put and don’t want to get rid of, like some stuff they got from their missions but that Vinnie doesn’t want in his room or some old things they want to give at a garage sale or that one Professor-Time body-pillow that Balth refuses to let go of while Vinnie just wants to trash the thing. The body-pillow being in the storage room in a junkpile was their compromise on the issue. Also, whenever someone might stay in the room, Balth makes sure there’s no way they will find the body-pillow (his sister in-law Bettie would never let him live it down).

- Not much to say here either aside from that.

    Master bedroom (the room in which the proportions are way bigger than the rest of the house because I have no idea what I’m doing) :

- I described the room quickly in my fic “nightmares” but yeah basically the room has several posters and pictures related to their interests, along with a bookshelf full of animal encyclopedias, time-travel facts, history books, Professor-Time fantasy books etc. There are also albums, whether it be family pictures or album of the two of them.

- Like for the living-room, there can definitely be more than what I described/pictured here. I’m just really bad at imagining the kind of stuff people would have in their bedrooms related to their interests. And speaking of which : at some point, there was the aquarium that Vinnie mentions in “Time Out”.

- Unlike the other rooms in which the windows have roller blinds (apparently that’s the english word for it ?), this one has curtains on top of it because Balth likes to open the window in the morning but he doesn’t want Vinnie to hurt his eyes. So with curtains, he can open them enough to light the room but not enough for the light to reach Vinnie’s face.

- The bed is pretty classic for a futuristic bed but with round edges and these two idiots definitely go crazy with the sheets design (animals, food, Professor-Time, past time-periods, stuff like that). Also, the bed is “open”. By that I mean that, if you look at futuristic designs, there tends to be some roof thing above the bed and linked to it. They wouldn’t have that.

- The nightstands are floating cubes.

- “Dennis’ chair” is just some random old wooden chair where Dennis stays most of the time. Balth almost never takes him during his missions and Dennis is a comfort object that Balth mostly talks to when sitting on the bed, movie nights aside. So the bear stays in the bedroom.

- The bookshelf would also be made of wood.

- The wardrobe is futuristic, with doors that can open by themselves with sensory detection. Also, unlike what that poor “drawing” shows, the wardrobe is “taller” than it is “larger”.

- The armchair is an egg chair.

  - They sleep

- They spoon

- Balth is the big spoon because 1. he’s taller and 2. he grew up sleeping while embracing a teddy bear and old habits die hard.

- When Balth goes to sleep or wakes up, he can’t help but play with Vinnie’s hair and give the small man a few kisses, feeling satisfaction in seeing his husband smile or try to pull away while laughing.

- Vinnie sleeps on the side closest to the window while Balth sleeps on the side nearest to Dennis.

- Balth’s nightstand has an alarm clock that’s basically just a holographic square with numbers on it, while Vinnie has an album or some random animal trinket. Vinnie’s alarm clock is not feeling Balth’s warmth against him. But if Vinnie has to use an actual alarm, the sound would either be some old-fashioned song or an animal noise (is this starting to get too much insistence on the “animal-loving” side of him ?)

- While Balth likes to read in the living-room, Vinnies likes it better to chill in the bedroom when reading. Also, during weekends and vacation days, Balth would sometimes read in bed before sleeping (yeah for some reason I really like the idea of Balth being a reader. I think it has to do with him being old or british ??? Weird brain is weird. And besides, if Balth reads, it would most likely be science fiction related to Professor Time). Vinnie uses this time as an excuse to cuddle.

- They have themed pajamas. Balth mostly has Professor-Time stuff (clocks, Heinz or Perry’s faces etc) while Vinnie has mostly animal-themed or food-themed pajamas.

- Vinnie sometimes sleeps naked in the summer. Balth is still trying to figure out how he feels about that.

- Random headcanon regarding Dennis : while he belongs to Balth who keeps him close when in doubt in order to vent or when he wants to get comfortable somewhere, I actually like to believe that, between the two, Vinnie is the one who talks the most to Dennis, mostly because Vinnie would just enter the bedroom and casually greet the bear, or he and Balth would have a dumb argument and Vinnie would playfully tell Dennis “Can you believe that guy ?” while pointing at Balth. Just, Vinnie being Vinnie and having random one-sided conversations with the bear.

And a little cute thing : while Vinnie really just talked to Dennis because why not, seeing the guy like the teddy bear so much would actually make Balth feel better about himself. I like to believe that grown-up men having plushies would still be seen as a ridiculous thing by most people (because toxic masculinity) and Balth got the habit of hiding Dennis when he was still trying to find the right guy for him. So seeing Vinnie have no issue whatsoever with the teddy bear and even liking him would definitely help Balth’s confidence, along with warming his heart.

- And since this post is all about headcanons : two things about phones and these two being sappy that have nothing to do with houses.

1. One day, Balth left his phone on a table and Vinnie decided to take a selfie with it because why not. After seeing that, Balth acted frustrated but ended up putting the pic as his phone background. Ever since, Balth’s phone background is a picture of Vinnie. The most recent one is from “We’re Going to the Zoo” with a picture of Vinnie holding squirrels in his arms while a third one is coming out of his pistachios-filled pants. The pic on the phone is a closeup, only showing Vinnie’s head and upper body. And for those who like angst, I’ll let you imagine how he must have felt having this as his phone background during the rogue arc.

2. Vinnie’s (numeric) phone password is 2703, aka march 27, the date of his wedding anniversary. The day is put first and the month second because Europe. Also, during busy weeks, this would be a good way for Vinnie to remember the anniversary.

(fun fact : I was trying to come up with scenarios for fics when I ended up thinking about Vinnie’s password and that number came to mind. So I just went “guess that’s their wedding date now”)

[giorno-plays-piano]

Sleep tight

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, home invasion, non-consensual drug use, allusion to kidnapping.

Words: 4163.

Summary: You know someone tried to break into your apartment, but no one believes you since you live in the very same building as famous Captain America. Who is willing to risk it?

P.S. Inspired by the Door Lock.

____________

You were coming back from work late again, carrying a paper bag with fresh chicken nuggets, French fries and two butter croissants you intended to leave for the morning. It was your little ritual - every time you worked long hours you went to buy some fast food afterwards instead of cooking youself a dinner. You had neither strength nor desire to spend your evening in the kitchen.

Funny, you thought, how many people were walking the same street as you, and you felt like you were alone in the whole world, nonetheless. Every day was exactly the same: you were waking up feeling groggy and exhausted, making youself coffee and leaving for work where you spent most of your time; you looked for excuses to stay late just because you didn't want to come back to your empty apartment where it was always eerie silent. Then you read some book you ordered from Amazon or Indigo, had a glass of water and went to sleep. Your life was like an endless limbo or a time loop.

Watching a few school girls giggling and taking out there cellphones and cameras, you sighed. That poor Steve Rogers living the same building as you had it much, much worse. At least you didn't have any crazy fans following you and making photos of your windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

"Hey you there! What are you doing?" Someone's grumpy voice cut through the silence, and all those girls suddenly ran, laughing nervously and clenching their cameras.

It was one of your neighbors, a man in his 60s who was living two floors beneath yours, who walked to the building with a grocery bag in his hand.

"I swear to God next time I'm gonna take their phones and call their parents right away!" He grunted, shaking his bold head.

"I'll be there to give you a hand, Mr. Jones." You smiled at him, and he let out a chuckle, opening the door for you. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear."

Well, today wasn't that bad. Those girls couldn't do much harm. You remembered the day when you saw huge scary men dressed in black walking the corridor to Captain's apartment - it was way more frightening than a couple of silly students making photos of his balkony. But, regardless of how dangerous it could be to live so close to probably America's most famous superhero, the rent was doubled in a week and became three times higher in two months. You were lucky your landlady was a very compassionate woman who didn't raise the price immediately after he moved in this building.

Opening the door to your apartment with a key, you took off your shoes and put the bag on a little side table. God, you wanted to sleep so bad.

Barely eating a few nuggets you went to bed without opening the new book you bought.

The next morning you didn't feel much better, though. It was like you went to bed at 5 am instead of retiring early. Your mind was hazy. You were almost squiffy though you hadn't been drinking alcohol for a month or so.

Damn, you needed to do something about that lifestyle of yours. It was obviously unhealthy.

You spent one more day in the office doing useless work no one cared about. Coming back home felt as lonely as never before, and you almost cried in the dark before taking a hold of yourself and entering the building. There were no girls with the cameras today.

Laying on your bed, you stared at the glass of water on your nightstand. You didn't even remember refilling it in the morning. How much did you remember at all before arriving at work?

Oh no, you weren't going to live like that anymore. No more working overtime. No more fast food. No more weeping in your room with the lights off. You were a decent human being who didn't deserve to live like a recluse. Tomorrow evening you were going to dress up and go for a glass of wine in that little restaurant you were passing by every day. And in the weekend it would be good to give a call to your cousin and ask for a visit.

You hummed, looking at the clock glimming in the darkness of the room. It was already midnight, but you didn't feel even a bit sleepy. It was odd. Staring at the ceiling, you tried counting sheep but failed miserably after two hundreds. It was then when you heard someone's footsteps behind your door and chewed your lips. Was it Mrs. Abebe who lived next to you? She was never coming that late. Not that you remembered.

You were probably imagining things since the sound of footsteps died, but you didn't hear anyone opening the door or, in fact, moving at all. You were simply tired from all that stress.

That was what you were thinking when you heard someone inserting the key into your lock. You stilled, your eyes almost popping out of the sockets. What was happening? What was that?

Then the sound of the lock opening made you jump.

"Who is that?!" You screamed at the top of your voice and grabbed the lamp from your nightstand. "Who's there?!"

Then everything went silent once again, the door still closed in front of you. You couldn't hear any footsteps, couldn't feel anyone's presence just behind the door as if no one tried to force it open just a few seconds ago. You didn't know how much time you spent standing there, a heavy lamp in your hands to strike down the intruder, but no one had opened the door.

In the end, you clenched your teeth and slowly moved forward, pressing your ear to the cold metal - there were no sounds coming behind it whatsoever. Then you glanced through the peephole and saw only a row of doors just like yours. The stranger was gone.

You couldn't sleep after that, of course. You locked the door again, moved your heavy drawer to block it, and started calling the cops. Whoever was it, a thief or some creep, you didn't want to sit there and wait when someone gonna break into your apartment.

Police did nothing, of course. There were no cameras in the corridor to check whether someone was truly walking there, and, except that, they could help little with your situation. The camera outside showed no one entering the building, too.

In fact, they were so skeptical after hearing your story they almost made you cry. Why would anyone want to break in? You had pretty much nothing valuable except for a few gadgets and a little bit of money.

"No one would risk coming close to the place where Steve Rogers lives, ma'am," one of the cops informed you, irritated at your persistence. "You probably imagined it in your sleep."

No, you didn't. You heard it with your own ears, and no policeman could make you doubt that. You didn't care whether that freak was afraid of Steve Rogers, you just needed to be safe.

Next morning you didn't go to work. Instead you called a locksmith company and looked through all those smart lock that cost a fortune, but they were so much better than the pathetic one you had. The guy you were speaking to informed you that, actually, you story wasn't uncommon - New York was full of burglars. He calmed you down a bit by saying that it was probably some rookie who didn't ever hear about Captain America living in the same building.

The smart keyless lock you got installed was pricey but offered a great protection, the guy claimed. As you still shook from what happened earlier, you called your cousin, nevertheless, and went to live in her place for the whole week. Just thinking of what could happen to you that night brought you nightmares.

Who was that? What did that person need from you? Was he really hoping to get anything valuable without even knowing who lived there? Why did they come at night and not during the day when you were at work? God, you were scared to learn the answers.

You were no longer walking the streets alone as your kind cousin brought you to and off work, watching that no one was following you. It was a great relief to know there were no scary dudes around, but you couldn't be calm still. You barely slept at night.

Your cousin was too worried to let you go and live by yourself again even with the new lock installed, so you decided to stay with her for one more week. You just needed to get a few more things from your apartment since last time you left in haste. Of course, you didn't go there alone, your cousin and two of her male friends coming with you just in case something was to happen.

You screamed when you saw your new lock smashed to pieces, its black plastic parts laying on the floor right in front of your door.

This time police couldn't say anything about you imagining things, and the investigation had finally started. What scared you even more was that Mrs. Abebe had sweared the lock was in perfect condition when she returned home yesterday, and she didn't hear anything at all last night, a few other neighbors saying the same. No one knew how it happened and who could it be.

"But I just don't understand how could someone try this right under Captain's nose." One of the policemen huffed and puffed.

"Steven Rogers has been on a mission since last week." A woman said angrily, watching the guy with disgust. You vaguely remembered her name was Kate and she lived on the same floor as Steve. "Please don't tell me you need Captain America just to make you do your job."

With so many people expecting someone to break into their homes and fearing for their lives, it was easier to demand installing cameras in the corridors everywhere in the building. More than that, a few cameras were installed in your apartment too. A new biometric lock was now attached to your door, but you weren't sure it could keep you safe. It all felt unreal.

Of course, you were living with your cousin. She not only didn't protest against it, but refused to let you go anywhere at all. The only place you were still coming to was the office your worked in, and she was bringing you there and driving you home all the time.

The police said that the criminal didn't leave any fingerprints anywhere, and, most importantly, they didn't see any stranger entering the house the day your lock was smashed. It probably meant it was someone who stayed in the building. When they said that, Mrs. Abebe moved out the apartment the very same day and came to live with her son. You felt both pity and guilt. If you weren't there, she could live in that place peacefully like before.

Although the stranger didn't show up, the old policeman handling your case said something was very wrong there, he could feel it in his bones. This person wasn't a simple burglar, for sure. Although the policeman asked you to come back to your apartment - of course, under the watchful eyes of his team ready to defend you - to somehow provoke the criminal, you didn't agree. You valued your life too much to become a bait.

You just wanted to keep living with your cousin, especially when you were finally able to sleep again. You still felt groggy after, but you didn't consider it too important after all that happened to you.

However, you had to change your mind when one day you woke up and saw the toilet seat up. There was no man living at your cousin's place, and she didn't let anyone come over for a week at least.

The stranger had found you. He sneaked into the house all the same like before, but now it was also your cousin's life at stake, not just yours.

You cried and wept and prayed until you were a complete mess, your head heavy from the shouting. It wasn't a burglar who followed you - it was a stalker. The policemen were deeply concerned with the truth, but they gave you hope - stalkers rarely left their victim under such circumstances, and they were most certain they would capture the intruder the next time this psycho showed up.

You agreed to return to your old apartment. What else was there to do to keep your dear cousin safe?

It was as empty and silent as before, but now the atmosphere turned sinister. You were afraid to touch your own things, thinking of the sick bastard who touched them - the one who touched you in your sleep. No one had told you about it, but you were certain this person had been there with you many times before you caught him. Your routine had been very much the same during the whole year, and they knew it and used it to their advantage. Your stalker had seen you, touched you, done something to you. He was there all the time, and you didn't know. The cameras police installed showed everything that was happening in the apartment except for bathroom, so you tried to avoid going there as much as you could. Yes, you were on display all the time, but you weren't ashamed. You were ecstatic that cops were watching you every goddamn second.

When it was time to get to bed, you were too nervous. The police expected your stalker to show up, and although you had acquired the gun, you didn't feel safe even the slightest bit. Holding the heavy piece of metal in your shaking hand, you gulped down water from the glass and layed on the bed, watching the door. No one would hurt you. You had a gun, a group of cops waiting right next door, and your cousin who rented a room in a hotel next to your building. You were safe. You just had to stay awake before this sick motherfucker showed up.

But when he did, you slept very soundly with your head on the pullow, your gun on the bed sheets close to you.

When you woke up, that morning became your worst nightmare. Your gun was gone. The toilet seat was up again.

How outrageous you had been when you found out all your supposed guards had fallen asleep last night, drugged by something they didn't even know. Of course, there was nothing on the cameras. In fact, there were no cameras left in your apartment and the corridor whatsoever because your stalker had them all removed without even showing himself. How did they do it? What superhuman being did they had to be to twist both the police and you around their finger?

Well, maybe it was exactly the case. This intruder was too extraordinary. What if it wasn't you they were after? What if they were really trying to challenge Captain's America authority? And you were just unlucky enough to become a victim. You were picked most likely because you had a routine you had been following for a long time, and it made you an easy target. In the end, this intruder didn't rape you. He didn't hurt you. He didn't steal from you. He was coming to, what, lay close to you on the bed? Put up a toilet seat? No, it wasn't your attention he was after. He wanted to be acknowledged by the hero everyone was crazy about. Maybe he was like those girls who kept making the photos of Steve's balkony.

Once the realization hit you, everything became so much better. If he wanted the attention of Captain America, he would get it, Kate had assured you. How did she discover what was happening and how she could make him aware of your situation you didn't know, but soon those scary men dressed in black were walking the corridors of the building instead of policemen. Cameras were set up again while you were guarded at all times. Captain was returning tomorrow, you were told.

They wanted you to stay in the apartment, still. Actually, they clearly implied that you'd be put there regardless of your own wish because it was for the best. They were not some incompetent policemen, they said. You'd be protected regardless of what was going to happen to your stalker. This time you were ready to believe them - these guys looked like they could crack man's skull with just one hand - but your cousin insisted you had to do something, too. Funny enough, she gave you a teddy bear and told there's camera inside it. You could see everything it recorded with your phone.

Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? You placed the bear on one of the shelves just to make her feel better.

But nothing happened during the night. For some reason, you slept like a rock again, but there was no indication the intruder had been in your apartment. You called your new guards, and they confirmed everything was clear. They were confused with your sleeping habits, though. It was odd you could sleep so soundly during such moments.

Well, maybe that was it. Captain America was coming today, and now the intruder knew they were going to have his full attention. Maybe it was enough for them, and you would be set free after all those weeks of torture.

"I still can't believe he didn't show up last night." You said nervously and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand. "I know it's stupid, but I feel like someone's going to jump at me when I'll be leaving the building."

"It's not stupid." Your cousin sounded concerned. "You're the bravest person I've ever met. I'd ask all those guys to go fuck themselves if they wanted me to spend one more minute in that place."

"I know, I know." You forced a smile as if she could see you. "But nothing happened, you see? I really think that... person wanted Captain, not me."

"You can't know it for sure, honey. You have to be careful before they catch that motherfucker, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I promise."

"Good. I'm going to buy some food, so I'll give you a call in half an hour."

"Sure! Please take care too."

"Of course!"

She hung up, and you were left alone with your thoughts again. You stared down your phone, thinking about all the things that happened to you. You wanted to know who was doing it to you more than anything else. Who was that person? The police said it was most likely to be a man in his thirties. What was his name? How did he look? What made him do all these things to you? Did he mock you for your stupidity when you didn't even realize he was always so close to you all that time?

Rubbing your eyes, you thought of the cameras and that teddy bear sitting on a shelf. Suddenly, you got curious how you looked in your sleep, what that intruder saw when he entered your apartment late at night. You opened the app on your phone without a second thought and pressed your finger to the screen to see the recording.

It was peaceful. You didn't snore and didn't move on the bed, laying there as if you were dead. Your drool wasn't running onto the pillow, and you were oddly glad you almost looked like a sleeping beauty. Well, at least at night your face didn't look so tired.

Then you saw the door on your screen moving. You chocked on air, staring at the tall muscular man entering your apartment so carelessly like he lived here too. What was this? How could it happen? They said no one entered your apartment last night. They said no one was even close to your door!

The man was wearing a cap that didn't allow you to look at his face, a dark blue bomber and jeans flattering his muscular figure. He was even bigger than those men guarding you, and you gasped when he stared directly into the camera as if he knew there was one in the teddy bear your cousin brought. But nothing shocked you as much as the face of the stalker.

It was Steve Rogers, the very same Captain America everyone loved and respected. He took of his shoes quietly and then left his bomber on the rack. When he turned his face to the camera, he was smiling and walking closer to it slowly like a predator knowing its prey couldn't escape.

He took the stuffed animal in his hands and brought it closer.

"I'm so glad you're watching, honey."

You whimpered, a tear running down your face. No, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. He was supposed to be the hero, not some deranged stalker ruining your life.

"Sorry for being later than usual, but you've made it a bit harder for me, you know that?" His smile was so sweet it could make you think he's talking to his fiancee, not some girl he was stalking for god knew how many months. "But don't worry, I'm not blaming you. I know it's been tough for you too, honey."

He glanced back at you sleeping on your bed and came closer to you. You held your breath and clamped a hand over your mouth in horror.

"It's actually my fault because I shouldn't be doing this before marrying you... but I just couldn't help myself. You're not mad at me, are you?" You realized he was laying down the bed with a teddy bear in his hand, and then you saw him kissing your forehead. "I know you're not. Thank you, sweetheart."

Looking at your phone with terrified and tearful eyes, you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, but something inside you forced you to keep watching when Steve had gently lowered the straps of your top and planted an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, massaging your breast. You wanted to drop the phone to the floor, to throw it out the window, to break it against the wall, yet all you did was gawking at the recording with watery eyes and sobbing. He was insane. You saw it in his eyes - he wasn't going to question his own actions. Steve Rogers was sure he did the right thing when he broke into your apartment.

"You probably gonna have some questions when you'll see the recording." He continued as he put the toy on the bed to make you see better all the things he was doing to you. "You have never woken up at night because I've been giving you some medicine, but don't worry, it's perfectly organic and doesn't do any harm to your body." You felt your stomach twisting. "Sometimes if you forgot to drink water from the glass I had to press a cloth dampened in chloroform to your face. I don't like doing it, so please remember to stay hydrated before going to bed, honey."

You wailed like a child, rubbing your eyes with one hand and having a phone in the other. Why was it happening to you? What had you done? You had never met Steve Rogers in the first place. How did he know about your mere existence?

"But I won't need to keep doing it since our honeymoon is so close. Once we get married, we won't have to do anything like that anymore. I know you're tired of waiting, and I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier." He kissed the top of your head and inhaled the scent of your hair. "We'll be leaving tomorrow. As for tonight, you'd have to sleep alone, but I'll be right here with you, so please don't worry."

Confused, you saw him moving with the teddy bear in his hand - the man left your bed and put the straps of your top back on your shoulders, covering your body with a blanket. He kissed your cheek one last time before returning the stuffed animal to its place and putting his bomber and shoes back on, but then...

Then he layed down on the floor and got under your bed. Though you kept watching the recording, you saw nothing else before the sun rose and you started waking up finally. You played the video further on, but nothing was happening still except you walking out to meet those men who were supposed to keep you safe. When you came back, you ate your breakfast and called your cousin.

You dropped your phone on the bed and stared at your legs, shaking so much your knees were knocking together.

He was still waiting for you under your bed.

Part 2

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @lovelydarkdaydream

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