#and every single member of my family is pressed in some way and I’m the one that holds them all together the fucking mood maker of the house

[jemmo]

man ive been gone for a hot sec haven’t i

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Not so Fake

Masterlist

Tim stationed himself in the third sitting room in the Manor. It was the closest to the kitchen, and furthest from the bedrooms and entrance of the manor. In other words, the perfect hiding spot from his overactive family that have united to try and make Tim rest. The only member that would find him right away would be Alfred, who already left him a cup of tea with a few of his cookies along with one of his laptops.

A note left on top stating that Alfred expected him to actually relax, and spotting the stickers Tim could tell this was his personal laptop. Taking Alfred seriously, Tim booted up YouTube and decided to watch his new favorite, GalacticPhantom, or Danny. He had found the channel a few months ago when one of his search engines caught a mention of Tim Drake and Red Robin being the same person.

The video in question had started off with a very well made video of the camera zooming down from a space view of the Earth to Danny’s home town, through his window and coming to a screeching halt in front of Danny and his friend Wes. The opening was highly impressive to Tim and the twenty-five minute video that followed had Tim wanting to pull his hair out.

Everything Wes said was true, completely true.

Tim was absolutely stunned and terrified because the other teen had managed to fully pull together who Red Robin was without even being in Gotham. The only thing that stopped Tim from calling a meeting about it, was that no one in the comments believed him. Instead Wes was mocked with the tried and true, ‘what do the butts match?’. He ended up watching every video under the playlist, ‘Wes the Detective’ and every single video hit right on the money but absolutely no one believed him. 

Well, no one but his friends it seemed. Tim had a couple theories about it and if it wasn’t for the fact that Wes has his identity clock he’d be staking out the town now. So he chose to stick to the theory that Wes was incredibly smart, but cursed in some way.

However today Danny had posted a new video and Tim could barely wait to watch it. The title was called ‘This thing wont leave me alone.’ and the thumbnail showed a screaming Danny holding a broom with a humanism but clearly not human girl spiderman to his ceiling seemingly hissing at him.

Tim grinned as he pressed play and settled back into the couch to watch. As the intro came to an end it found Danny in the closet of his bedroom speaking into the camera as if he was documenting his last moments.

“Hello everyone and welcome back to my channel.” He whispered softly only stopping at a noise outside the door that sounded like nails scratching against something. “What the—” the chittering of a badger interrupted him to cover his curse. “Today I’m hiding in my closet because this demon thing showed up and won’t leave me alone.” Something being knocked over in the background was heard causing Danny to freeze again. “I am taking my stand though, I have my makeshift weapon and-and I’m gonna face it. In the event that I don’t come out of this alive, Tucker you can have my Doomed character, Sam just ask them out already, Val you can sell all my stuff, and Wes I’m sorry I gaslight everyone in school that one time into thinking you weren’t real.” 

“That was—you Danny, oh you better hope you don’t survive after this!” Wes snapped from behind the camera, his curse being covered by bird chirps, and a second later Tucker’s head popped up from the bottom right screen. 

“You’re focusing on that rather than the fact Danny said that all to the screen like we weren’t even here.” Danny shushed them all dramatically holding his broom in front of him like a weapon.

“It is time. Remember me views, remember me.”

“So—dramatic.” Sam is heard but not shown on camera, soon after Danny is shown bursting out of the closet startling the humanoid creature with white hair and bright neon green eyes. 

Tim assumes the creature is one of their little siblings decked out in a creepy cosplay, a really creepy one that Sam definitely had to have a hand in making.

The girl immediately starts screeching and hissing at Danny who starts screaming back before starting to swat at her with the broom. Only for her to drop on all four and start crawling around to dodge him.

“Why won’t you stay still!!” Danny cried out as he panted slightly out of breath. The girl let out an evil cackle starting to crawl toward him and the others fast as he head began to turn to the point that it was upside down. Everything was silent before Danny began screaming hysterically while hitting the girl with the broom before she managed to jump on him and they began to fight. The video cut off right as the girl got a good hit on his nose, only to come back to Danny back in the closet with a bloody nose.

“You okay man?” Wes asked from behind the camera as Danny just stared dazed ahead. Danny turned to him, eyes unfocused as he stared at the camera.

“Do-do I call an exorcist? Do we have exorcists around us? Bro I have a demon in my house, and my parents who are ghost hunters can’t even detect it. What do I do?”

“Danny, I think she might have broken your Lego space shuttle.” Val was heard and seconds later Danny was shown back outside the closet in a screaming match with her while fist fighting and rolling all over the ground. 

“THAT LEGO SET COST ME FOUR MONTHS ALLOWANCE!!”

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET BREAKING IT!”

“ALL I DID WAS HIT YOU WITH A BROOM!”

The girl seemed to be responding to him in either gibberish, or a language they created. Which only seemed to anger Danny more.

“ENGLISH! SPEAK ENGLISH!!” The girl paused, stopping herself from landing a solid punch to his cheek before grinning at the confused teen.

“No.” Danny seemed stunned before anger took over again and the fight continued.

“You can_____speaking english! You____daughter of a______!!” The feed cut off before returning to Danny who was sitting on the bed of his wrecked room. The girl in question nowhere to be seen as Val cleaned some blood off Danny's cheek with a grin.

“I don’t know where she went, but I know she is still in my house. Tune in next time I find her because she better have some money to pay me back for my lego set. Thanks for stopping to watch this episode of mine and until next time, don’t let the ghosts get ya.”

“That was pretty interesting.” Dick said as he stole a cookie from Tim’s plate. “Are all his videos like that?” Tim didn’t even blink at his brother's sudden appearance as he moved to type out a comment.

“For the most part, ya. He’s a shit poster, his content is just a tun of stuff that is so outrageous and realistic but clearly not real.”

‘That fight gave off peak sibling energy. It’s giving, I’m gonna fight my sibling to the death because of one slight inconvenience.’

Jason hummed as he picked his book back up, dropping down in front of the couch to reread Pride and Prejudice. “Ya he was definitely fighting his little sister. He held back too much and she wasn’t pulling her punches.” 

“Only Drake would spend his time watching pointless videos.” Damien huffed, causing Tim to roll his eyes.

“Awe Dami, you know Tim is on mandatory rest. No work of any kind.” Dick grinned before jumping up, wrapping his arms around Damien and dragging him down onto the couch.

“Richard!! Let me go this instant!!” Damien screamed struggling to get away from his octopus of an older brother.

“No! I need my little brother cuddles and I need them from my Dami! No escape for you now.” Damian kept fighting Dick’s hold for the next twenty-five minutes while Tim put another of Danny’s videos on and rewatched it with Jason and Dick watching as well. The video in question was one where Danny went through a locker with his friends and went back in time to when his school first opened. Jason snorted, commenting on them making everything black and white. Danny meets a seemingly see-through kid named Sidney Poindexter and it ends with the two of them having a dance off.

“Bruce, why the fuck are your kids watching a video of a kid dancing with an Infinite Relams ghost?” Tim paused, staring blankly at his computer screen before turning to look at Bruce and John Constantine. “Wow holy shit, the Infinite Realms rarely interact with us since Luthor let the Anti-Ecto Acts pass. Yet that kid is interacting with one like their friends.”

“You’re saying this shits real?” Jason asked, closing his book looking at the screen more interested.

“Language Master Jason.” Alfred said as he walked in from a tray of tea for everyone.

“Sorry Alfred.” John nodded as he moved closer, eyes trained on Poindexter.

“If it is not real it is still more similar than could be possible. They’ve definitely had interactions with the Realms.”

“Wait, what are the Anti-Ecto Acts?” Tim asked his attention zeroing in on John.

“Well fuck, you don’t know? It affects like all of you, thought for sure you’d know. Shit this is gonna take so long to explain. We’re gonna have to call a JL meeting for this explanation because I’m not doing it twice.”

Of Meetings and Musings

[inkedinshadows]

Say My Name

Day 12: Hate fuck — Eris x f!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, one instance of name calling, language

Word count: 2.354

A/N: ahhh I'm so excited for this one! It's actually the first Eris fic I've ever written (before the one for day 8) and I had so much fun. It's probably my favorite out of all kinktober fics!

As the emissary of the Night Court, you often had to deal with members of other courts, some more polite than others. And though you loved your job for the most part, you had come to hate when you had to meet with Eris Vanserra, which happened a bit too frequently since Rhysand had agreed to help him scheme against his own father.

You despised the male.

Eris was nothing but an arrogant, self-assured prick who thought he was better than anyone else. But even more than that, you hated the way your body reacted to him. You always had to keep a few feet of distance if you didn’t want anything inconvenient going on between your legs.

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes at that familiar voice as you closed the door behind you. Your meetings took place in a small, abandoned cabin Azriel had found along the border between the Winter and the Autumn Court. It was a single room with a small bed in one corner, a few kitchen counters on the opposite wall and a table with two chairs at the center of the space. Not much, but perfect for secret meetings.

Eris was currently leaning against one of the dusty counters, arms crossed over his muscular chest, scowling at you.

Forcing yourself to meet his gaze and not stare at the way his brown tunic perfectly hugged his biceps, you shrugged irreverently. “I’m here now, so let’s get this over with. The less I see you, the better.”

His jaw ticked. “I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”

“And?” You took a few steps forward, leaning against the table to mimic his position. “I had better things to do, Vanserra.”

Not exactly true. You had arrived late because you wanted to. You relished the sight of his anger, savoring the knowledge that you could get on his nerves so easily. The thought of him growing impatient while he waited for you to show up brought a little smile to your lips, especially since you knew that he needed the Night Court’s help more than you needed his.

Eris pushed off the counter and stalked toward you, his arms now at his side. You kept your eyes on his face, watching as that dormant fire power inside him sparked to life in his gaze. All of a sudden, you were breathing slightly faster.

“Allow me to make one thing clear, darling,” he drawled, stopping mere inches from you. You cringed at the pet name, though something fluttered deep in your stomach as he continued. “This is not a game. I don’t care what you or your preening High Lord and his oh-so-perfect friends believe about me. He promised his help.”

His hands were on the table behind you now, trapping you between the furniture and his body. He leaned closer, his scent engulfing you, until he was snarling directly in your face. “So if you can’t even bother to show up on time to do your job, tell him to send someone else. Someone professional.”

You were supposed to snap, to put him in his place, to yell and get angry at him. And deep down you were. After all, he had just insulted your friends and family, and not so subtly called you incompetent. But he was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your face and his chest brushing against yours with every inhale.

And then you made the stupid mistake of glancing down at his lips.

You didn’t know what happened next. You didn’t know who moved first. But one moment you were glaring at each other, and the next it was a whirlwind of tongues and teeth as your mouths collided.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. Eris groaned, you moaned, both of you tried to take the lead and not submit to the other. But then he pushed you back against the table, his hips flush with yours, and suddenly there was just the hard bulge in his pants pressing against you.

Eris slid one of his hands in your hair to tilt your head back, drawing a whimper from you and exposing your neck for him to bite.

“Is this what you want?” he growled in between nips that you knew would leave a red mark. “Is this why your thighs clench together so often when you’re around me?”

“Shut up, Vanserra,” you grumbled, not caring how he had noticed that detail. All you wanted was to feel him, to give in to this unwelcome desire just for once, hoping it would be enough to make it go away. The wrongness of it all, the hate you harbored for each other, should have been a deterrent, but it only fueled your need instead.

Your fingers were on his pants, making quick work of undoing the buttons. Before you could go any further than that, you yelped as Eris spun you around and unceremoniously bent you over the table.

You turned your head toward him. “What are you—”

“Shut up,” he snarled in your ear. “I’m giving you what you’re too ashamed to ask for yourself.”

You didn’t know how to answer that. You did want this, and your pride stopped you from admitting it out loud. But shame? You weren’t ashamed of how you felt. You simply hated it with all your being.

“You’re so wet already,” he drawled, brushing its tip on your clit. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

Eris didn’t give you the time to come up with a different answer than another grumbled ‘shut up’. Your skirt was already being pushed up around your waist, your panties dropped to your ankles, and a moment later the head of his cock rubbed against your folds, making you both groan.

“Eris…” you whined. You didn’t even care how desperate and needy your voice sounded anymore. You just wanted to feel him inside you.

But he stopped and pulled away. His mouth was at your ear again, his breath hot on your skin. “How did you call me, sweetheart?”

You froze too as realization hit you. He had always been Vanserra to you. You had never uttered his name in front of him, just like he had never said yours. It just slipped out in the heat of the moment, and you certainly wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I thought that was your name,” you replied, your voice going back to the scornful note it always carried when talking to him.

“It is.” Eris ran his hands along your body, and his tone became demanding. “Say it again.”

“No.”

He grabbed your hips, fingers digging in enough to bruise. “Say it.”

“Fuck you,” you spat. You wanted to turn around and give him one of your disdainful glares, but he was leaning over you, pressing you between his chest and the wooden surface beneath you.

“Oh, darling, I will fuck you.” You felt him smile against your ear. “And you will be screaming my name by the time I’m done with you.”

The words were already on your lips. Like hell I will. You opened your mouth to say just that, but a cry came out instead as Eris pushed his cock inside you with a single thrust. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was pounding into you.

“Fuck, you feel better than I thought…” he sputtered, nibbling on your earlobe. “Tight little cunt squeezing me just right.”

Every thought or concern faded from your mind at the punishing rhythm he set. There was only the heavy drag of his cock sliding in and out of you, and when he lifted himself off you and stood to his full height behind you, the new angle allowed him to hit your most sensitive spot just right.

“Say my name.”

Eyes closed, mind foggy, you somehow managed to bite out, “No.”

His hand fisted your hair to pull your head back. You groaned, your back arching off the table, holding on to the edge hard enough that your knuckles were white.

“I want to fucking hear it,” he panted, each word accentuated by a thrust that made your eyes roll back.

But you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, not even now. Your pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let you go farther than letting him fuck you over a table.

“Keep fucking dreaming, Vanserra.”

Apparently, it wasn’t the right answer. His grip on your hair and hip only tightened and he slammed harder inside you, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, but at least he didn’t ask again and neither of you said anything more. The only sounds that could be heard were moans and groans—yours or his, you could no longer tell—, the wet noise of his cock sliding in your dripping cunt, and the occasional creaking of the table beneath you.

You weren’t sure how long you kept going. It could have been a few minutes or a few hours, and it would have made no difference at all: by the time you were reaching your climax, you were so fucked out it was hard to breathe or think straight. And Eris probably noticed it too, because he pulled you up until your back was pressed against his chest.

He let go of your hair only to tease your clit, gently drawing circles around it as he let up a bit until he was thrusting at a torturously slow rhythm. Your release had been so close, yet it was slipping away.

“Will you say my name now, darling?” he murmured in your ear. “Then you can come.”

You didn’t know why it mattered so much to him, but you were too lost in the pleasure, your mind too hazy to even try and fight him this time. “Eris,” you mumbled softly.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes closing again when his fingers moved a bit faster on your clit. You were ready to come, and you waited for him to pick up the pace, but his thrusts remained too slow, too gentle.

“A little louder, sweetheart,” he ordered. “I couldn’t hear you.”

You sighed, the sound a perfect mix of frustration and bliss, and squirmed in his arms to try and get more than what he was giving.

Eris simply stopped what he was doing. His hand left your clit and he pulled out until only the tip of his cock was still inside you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

“Eris, please…” you whined, loud enough that he couldn’t complain about not hearing it.

“You said my name and you’re begging?” His teeth grazed your neck. “Now, that’s a good little slut.”

You should be outraged, ashamed, shoving him away after such an insult, and a small part of you was, because you breathed out, “I fucking hate you.” It didn’t come out as angrily as you intended, though, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You weren’t even sure you said that because of the insult or to try to preserve some semblance of dignity.

Eris had the nerve to laugh. “Oh, I know you do, darling. I bet you also hate how good my cock feels inside you.”

He pushed you back down over the table, his hands finding their place on your hips as he finally thrust back into you.

“But I don’t see you complain about that,” he growled just before he began to relentlessly pound into you.

If possible, he was fucking you even harder and more roughly than before. Your cheek was pressed against the wood, and soon your legs were shaking, barely able to hold you up. Moan after moan tumbled out of your mouth, each one louder than before, until Eris slammed into you particularly deep and you screamed his name as your orgasm barreled through you.

His thrusts became frantic, his grip firmer, and it was only a matter of seconds before he came with a groan, filling you with his warm seed, your walls still clenching around him.

For a moment, you were both still. You were panting, body slick with sweat, and when Eris at last pulled out, you felt his absence inside you. But you would be damned if you let even the slightest whimper leave your lips now. Instead, you stood up straight as if that obnoxious desire had been sated rather than fed.

You pulled your panties back up and fixed your skirts, trying to ignore the remnants of your combined releases smeared over your inner thighs. You fixed your hair with your hands as best you could, and only then did you turn to face Eris.

He was watching you with a smirk on his annoyingly beautiful face. He looked as if nothing had happened—perfect hair, smoothed tunic, pants already buttoned up.

“What?” you snapped.

“I told you you’d scream my name and you did, didn’t you?” He prowled closer, reaching out a hand as if he wanted to touch you. “Just like I said.”

You batted his hand away and took a step back, arms crossed over your chest. “So what? It doesn’t change anything. I still hate you.”

“Good. Because I hate you just as much.”

“Good.”

You stared each other down for a whole minute before you crumbled and looked away. You swore you could see a smug smile appear on his face, but it was gone by the time you glanced back at him.

“This was a horrible mistake,” you sighed. You aimed for the door. “It will never happen again.”

Eris only smirked. “We’ll see.”

You winnowed away before you could punch him on that marked beautiful jaw of his. Only later did you realize you hadn’t asked why he had called for a meeting in the first place.

But Eris had been right, as it turned out. Because you still had to meet with him, and it did happen again. And again. And again. Until you didn’t fight it anymore.

Until you came to love the way Eris Vanserra hated you.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk @olive-main @krispypotato @scorpioriesling

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo being your enemy (or lover?)

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: Your family told you over and over, pounded it into your head since childhood: Satoru Gojo is your enemy, you are simply not allowed to feel anything but hatred towards the Gojo clan. But why do you find yourself lost in his arms each and every night, begging him to love you right?

Warnings: mentions of smut, it's getting heated (intimate touching) but not "real" lol, language

Finally, my first fic after quite some time! Let me thank every single one of you for your patience and sticking with me, I'd be more than honored if you show some love 🤍

„There you are, I searched everywhere for you.”

Just the sound of his melodic voice sends shivers down your spine, makes you break out in sweat. God, it should be forbidden to be this gorgeous, it shouldn’t be allowed for a man to be this charismatic. But oh, Gojo Satoru is. And you hate the way you feel about him.

“And I avoided you as good as I could.”

But at the same time, you can’t keep your mind off him, can’t keep your hands to yourself, can’t stop yourself from shamelessly staring at his delicious jawline, can’t control the urge to get under him. His body pressed against yours, skin to skin while he whispers the filthiest thoughts into your ear until you scream his name into the night.

“You know we’re alone, right?”

The raspy tone in his voice makes your eyes dart up in an instant. You know all too well you shouldn’t even look at him, that you need to keep your safe distance. Why is it so damn hard to resist him? The curse of your family, the enemy of your bloodline. Your family and the Gojo clan hated and fought each other since the beginning of time, making your whole childhood consist of nothing but hatred towards their golden child. But that golden child circles around you like a hunter around its prey, takes off your clothes with the sheer force of his bright blue orbs alone.

“We shouldn’t be.”

Your mouth is dry like the desert, the overwhelming feeling of losing your consciousness eats you up alive. It’s so wrong to stand in front of him, to let him linger over you with his much taller frame. Gojo Satoru is your worst enemy, the one and only thing your family warned you about. Why is it so damn easy to fall head over heels for him?

“You know you can leave anytime. I’m not forcing you to stay with me. But if you do you won’t regret it.”

You swallow down the lump building up inside your throat, doe eyes fixated on his dangerous ones. If they’d see you here, only inches away from the greatest member of the Gojo clan, you’d be screwed to infinity.

“We can’t do this anymore. We’ve already crossed that line way too often. You and me, we are…”

“Enemies, lovers? It’s completely up to you, (y/n). I couldn’t care less about my family’s opinion-“

“You should care, though. Our lives depend on it”, you reply urgently.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

His deep chuckle almost sends you over the edge, the way his eyes linger over you makes you hold your breath. That way too confident bastard who thinks the world belongs to him exclusively, who thinks he’s a god walking on earth. How much you hate his cocky smile, his immense powers, his arrogant appearance. Somehow your family is right for hating him, somehow you get why they want you to stay away from Gojo Satoru.

“You’re an arrogant bastard”, you bite back.

“Watch that mouth, (y/n). Why are you still here, huh? Feel free to leave if you wanna get away from me so bad.”

Your heavy breaths hang in the heated air between both of you. Just one stretch of your finger would be enough for your fingertips to brush over his broad chest. Just one touch would be enough to light the fire between both of you again. Why do your hands start to shake all of the sudden? Why is your heart almost beating out of your chest?

It’s because of him.

“Leave”, you press out while moving an inch forward.

“Just leave and never come back.”

“Or what?”, he breathes out, caging you between the cool wall and his burning body.

Get yourself together, think about your family. Gojo Satoru is your enemy despite being a jujutsu sorcerer as well, you aren’t allowed to even talk to him, you should leave right here and now, you-

“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you roughly.

You press your lips against his as hard as possible, teeth brushing over each other, making your lips swell in an instant. His strong arms are immediately wrapped around your frame, keeping you in place while he teases you with his tongue. Without mercy, over and over. You can’t catch your breath, hands searching for hold on his shoulders.

“I hate you”, you jeer against his parted lips before wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Oh yeah? Then let me show you how much I hate you as well”, he bites back, kissing that sweet spot on your neck that makes you see stars.

You can’t help but moan, press yourself even harder against the growing sensation in his pants, digging your nails into his uniform. God, how much you hate that guy. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t let him come near you, shouldn’t allow him to even touch your body.

Suddenly his hand wanders down your body, further and further until he cups your crotch roughly.

Fuck.

This feels so good.

No, it feels so bad.

“S-Satoru”, you whimper softly.

Your melodic voice sounds like music in his desperate ears, makes his skilled fingers pick up their pace in an instant. Oh, how precious you look with your eyes rolled backwards into your skull, how well his name suits your filthy little mouth.

This. This is right where you belong. Between his arms with his hand between your thighs.

“You like that, huh?”

You press your lips together and close your eyes, try to escape the sensation that builds up inside of you. No, you shouldn’t feel this good, you shouldn’t let him have this much power over your body. Screw Gojo Satoru and his skilled hands, screw that bastard for always making his way into your pants.

“Hell no I don’t.”

“Is that so?”, he teases.

Roughly, he snatches his hand away and cups your cheek, forcing your glossy eyes to look up at him. He looks absolutely delicious with his hair being a wild mess and his puffy lips ready to get kissed again.

No.

You shake your head, avoid his gaze. This is wrong. You shouldn’t even be here. If you leave now and go back to your apartment, you are able to pretend that none of this ever happened. Yes, Gojo Satoru will be nothing more than a comrade you have to endure, nothing but a plague in your life. Everything will turn out alright if you leave right here and now.

But your hands still hold onto his shoulders for dear life, you still whimper softly with every breath you take, your heart still races in desire. Fuck, why is it so hard to let go of him?

“I give zero fucks about our families hating and fighting each other. I want you and nothing else, you understand? We don’t have to do this in secret, you don’t have to pretend that you hate me while you don’t. I want you, (y/n). And I need to have you.”

You hate the way his words make shivers run down your spine, how your heartbeat picks up in an instant. The thought of having him alone is enough to almost send you over the edge. But oh, how could you forget his reputation with women, the things you’ve heard from Shoko? You are nothing but a trophy for a man like him, nothing but a price he hunts after.

You take a deep breath in and out, tame down your beating heart. He might be hot, but he’s still your enemy. Don’t forget where you came from, don’t let yourself fall because of a man.

“You only want me to brag about it. I’m not just one of your many toys, Satoru. And I’m too good to be yours. I’d rather keep you as my enemy.”

With a swift motion, you free yourself out of his grip, remove your touch from his burning skin. Fuck, should you turn around and fall back into his open arms, let him fuck you until you see stars like usual? As much as your body begs you to stay, as much as you miss his touch, you can’t.

After all, Gojo Satoru is your enemy, right?

…Right?

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

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Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.” 

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

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a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I know that you mostly post about the Temu Royals but I am finding the new communications strategy of the Waleses to be quite interesting. They invited an amateur photographer, Liz, a young woman with cancer to take the photos at the investiture William did today, Catherine was there too but unannounced.

It seems to me they’re trying to keep thigh control over their social media while appearing more “approachable” but leaving the RR in the dark.

What do you think of it?

Quick little disclaimer first: I don’t want to be posting mostly or only about the Sussexes. I would rather actually not be posting about them as much as I do but I don’t get a lot of asks about other happenings in the BRF. I’m thinking about taking some longer breaks as we get into my busy season at work because this is too much Sussex.

I like the new media approach. I feel like it’s something William and Kate have wanted for a very long time - to have more control over how they’re covered. Not in a censorship kind of way, but more in a…putting “mystique” back in “royal mystique, or drawing a very sold, very defined line between what the public can access and their privacy. - so when everyone blew their top about simple edits to a family photo, they decided to take advantage of the moment.

The rota to me is a double-edged sword. On one side, they’re responsible for covering the royal family and providing information about them to their public. But on the other hand, they’re a money-making for-profit endeavor. They will only ever always cover the royals in ways that makes them, or their bosses, money. Meaning controversy, scandal, secrets, and gossip sell better than standard straightforward reporting - aka, the Court Circular.

The second part of it is the intrusiveness and pervasiveness of media today. First, the pervasiveness: the 24/7 media cycle has entitled the public to demand constant coverage of all newsmakers (politicians, athletes, musicians, actors, royals, etc.) to justify their interest in them. Because the public demands constant coverage, it’s similarly entitled, and enabled, the press - especially the rota - to demand to be in the newsmakers’ spaces. They believe it’s their job to be constantly present and they enforce their presence with controversy, scandal, secrets, and gossip under the guise of “informing the public.”

Then second, the intrusiveness: the use of social media has entitled the public and press to not only demand inclusion in the newsmakers’ private non-public spaces, but also to offer commentary and criticism over those spaces and that portion of their lives.

So because of that pervasiveness and intrusiveness, the lines between private and public and between fact-based reporting and opinion editing has blurred, and blurred so badly that it’s nonexistent. It probably didn’t help to have royals like Charles, Diana, Camilla, Andrew, Sarah, Harry, Meghan, and Eugenie running to talk to the media every single time they were offended or wanted attention. (And it also didn’t help that some reporters were hacking phones either.) Because certain senior royals were friendlier with the press, it ushered in an era of open transparency that enabled the public and the press - including the rota - to demand identical access and transparency from all royals in their personal lives/personal relationships - William and Kate especially.

After all, look what happened when Kate asked for privacy and needed some time to recover from a major surgery in hospital; the public and the press demanded she show herself and when she didn’t, it became controversy and scandal and the gossip proliferated in an attempt to force her out, and members of the rota were actively participating in that too.

Anyway. All this to say that KP’s new media strategy of disengaging with the rota to communicate directly to the public themselves using their own channels is good. I think so, at least.

The rota has gotten too big for its britches, in a way, especially if they felt emboldened to criticize Kate’s desire for privacy to convalesce from major surgery - and then a shocking cancer diagnosis - in private. They’ve needed reform for a long time, since the mid-90s-ish (when the 24/7 media cycle first became problematic (and I have theories on that too which I’m happy to discuss if anyone else wants)), which Harry was right to want and work towards.

Except Harry’s vision for reforming the rota and the monarchy’s relationship with the press was, essentially, censorship and autocratic control (ie “print only what I tell you to print and nothing else”), effective immediately. William’s solution seems to be more baby steps; letting the rota still have most of their access to do most of their work, but removing their ability to cover certain private or personal events (eg the birthday photos) and occasional work engagements (eg this latest investiture), then hopefully being able to scale that up to where the rota is actually doing their job to report on the monarchy, vs generating controversy or scandal to sell headlines. I do hope that William’s plan to modernize the monarchy’s media strategy means that he will diversify the rota and open it up to more publications and more new media - including from the realms, instead of letting traditional Fleet Street publications/tabloids hold the monopoly (because I do think that power has gone to all their heads, and I do agree with Scobie on Endgame that leadership of the rota needs to be on a rotating term basis, instead of always permanently Rebecca English).

I do think yesterday’s investiture where there was no media but the one photographer was probably a one-off event, perhaps along the lines of “make a wish” (but not really; I do think the Waleses felt for Liz and really wanted to give her/her family special, happy moments after having dealt with their own similar challenges this year.)

Personally for me, I don’t think there’s much to comment on about whether all future investitures will be embargoed or press-restricted until/unless it happens again because once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern.

[javier-pena]

in plain sight, chapter ii

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader | Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 9.7k (idk what happened there)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Tommy invites you over to dinner and you meet a man you thought you'd never see again.

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol |drug use (weed) | mention of complicated family dynamics | mention of a family member’s death | voyeurism | exhibitionism | lots of confusing feelings | a tiny bit of bi-curiosity | Joel is kind of a dick | ecouteurism | oral (f receiving) | some dirty talk | (brief) masturbation (f) | some possessiveness | fingering | (protected) p in v sex | light choking | overstimulation

Notes: I know that no one updates stories as slowly as I do, considering I posted the first chapter all the way back in February. But this fic is on my mind constantly, and the one thing I'm always thinking about is Tess. So I hope I did her justice in this chapter - at least Dani @alexturner thinks so 🤭 and no spoilers, but the next chapter is going to be wild, so stick around ...

[Chapter I] [Masterlist] [Chapter III]

***

“When will you be back?”

The question makes you roll your eyes. “I don’t know,” you answer with a sigh. “He’s making dinner … I don’t know what he has planned.”

Your sister glances at the tidy front lawn, the grass neatly cut and dark green in the evening light, and beyond it at the bungalow with its cream-colored façade and dark gray roof. Behind the windows, light is burning, but you don’t see any movement.

“If you’re going to be later than ten, don’t count on me to pick you up.”

“I’m sure Tommy will drive me,” you reassure her. Those logistics aren’t even on your mind – you’re not counting on going back home tonight.

“Well, have fun,” your sister says, the look on her face telling you she thinks you’ll have anything but.

“Thanks,” you reply, checking your makeup in the tiny mirror in the sun visor before climbing out of the car.

Your high heels clack loudly against the driveway as you make your way past Tommy’s red pickup and a black one that probably belongs to his brother up to the front door. You’re very aware of your sister’s gaze on you – at least she didn’t comment on your outfit this time, but you know she wanted to. The dress you’re wearing is longer than the one you had on the last time you met Tommy, but it’s still tight, even though the skirt is slightly flared. You went for an innocent, floral pattern, hoping it would keep your sister from commenting, and it did. Still, you were anxious the whole drive that she would turn the car around and make you get changed.

Before you ring Tommy’s doorbell, you turn around and wave at your sister, a broad smile on your face. The last thing you need is for her to see Tommy sticking his tongue down your throat because you wouldn’t hear the end of it. But she’s set on staying until you’re safely inside. With a small sigh, you ring the doorbell and await your fate.

“Wow,” is the first thing Tommy says when he opens the door. He’s wearing jeans and a checkered shirt, a big belt buckle with a snake on it, and he’s holding a dishtowel in one hand. As soon as he’s standing in front of you, nothing else matters. “You’re …,” you see him swallow hard. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re very –,” you start, but he interrupts you by grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. As soon as the door closes behind you, he presses you up against it and claims your mouth like a starved man. You’re dimly aware of a car speeding off.

It’s so easy to get lost in him for a while. One of your hands finds his chest, the other the back of his head. This is such a new experience for you, that things between the two of you are never awkward. There is no, “Hi”, no, “How have you been?”, no hesitation as you’re trying to figure out if Tommy missed you as much as you missed him. Every single time you see him it feels like a lightning strike, and every single time he sees you he treats you like you’re the most important person in his life. It takes some getting used to that this summer fling feels like the most grown-up relationship you’ve ever had.

“I missed you too,” you tease once he lets go of you, and you watch a flush creep onto his cheeks.

Tommy takes your hand and leads you toward the kitchen. It’s only then that you notice the smell of a charcoal grill. “Do you want somethin’ to drink?” he asks you. “Beer? Wine? Water? Juice? I have some sodas too.”

You laugh. “I’ll have a beer,” you answer, then kiss his cheek. “Don’t be so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” he protests with a huff but hides his face behind the refrigerator door.

You walk to the kitchen window and glance outside at the tidy backyard framed by a low, brown picket fence. There’s an unlit firepit in one corner, a smoking charcoal grill in the other, and in the middle there’s a table, already set for four people. You thought you’d have Tommy all to yourself tonight.

“My brother Joel is havin’ dinner with us,” Tommy says, handing you an ice-cold beer bottle. “He’s bringin’ his girlfriend Tess along. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you answer with a shake of your head, but the truth is you do. Well, some warning would have been nice, at least. Maybe you wouldn’t have worn a dress that displays quite so much of your back. Maybe you would have worn more sensible shoes. Maybe you would have told your sister to pick you up at ten. And maybe you wouldn’t have counted on a romantic dinner followed by mind-blowing sex.

“Joel’s older than you, right?” you ask, swallowing your disappointment.

“That’s right.” Tommy laughs. “Don’t call him older to his face though.” He lowers his voice. “I’m not older, I’m more mature.”

Just like that your disappointment vanishes into thin air. “It has to be quite a few years. I don’t remember him from high school.”

Tommy takes a swig from a half empty beer bottle on the counter. “That’s because he graduated before I started. He’s five years older.”

You nod, quickly doing the math in your head. He has to be almost thirty then. “And you work together?” you ask next, but the last two words get drowned out by the sound of an engine growling like a pack of wolves.

“That’s them!” Tommy quickly empties his beer bottle. “Let me check on dinner real quick.”

You stand there, watching him hurry off into the backyard. Should you follow? Should you pretend to be busy in the kitchen? Does he expect you to greet Joel and his girlfriend (Tina, was it?) on your own? In the end, you find yourself walking back toward the living room, straightening your dress, tightly clutching your beer bottle. Meeting Tommy’s big brother … it sounds so official, like you’re taking the next step in this relationship.

Outside the living room window, a motorbike has pulled up in the driveway. It’s big and black and chrome, long enough for two people to sit behind each other, loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood. A man and a woman sit astride it, he in front, she holding onto him. They’re both wearing dark leather jackets and dark helmets, and big heavy boots, and you never felt so overdressed and like a fish out of water. They’re going to take one look at you and think you’re a silly little girl.

No! You straighten your back. This goes both ways. They probably want to make a good first impression just as much as you want to.

The woman takes off her helmet first and undoes her low ponytail that kept her long, auburn hair out of her face during the drive. She’s … you wouldn’t call her “pretty” but she’s stunning in a way that makes your mouth go dry. When she runs her fingers through her hair and laughs at something Joel says you wish you could just disappear. No matter what you do, you could never compete with someone like her. But when Joel takes off his helmet you know wishing you could disappear won’t be enough. You’ll have to find a way to actually do it. Because you know this man, there’s no doubt about that. You could never forget those eyes and the way his gaze pierced into yours while he was fucking a woman you couldn’t see. This is going to be the worst night of your life.

Joel unzips his jacket, exposing a tight, white shirt underneath it, while his girlfriend waves to a neighbor on the opposite side of the street. Then she holds out her hand for Joel to take and they walk toward the front door; she’s chatting away while he watches her, a neutral expression on his face.

It’s like that one time you were eight years old and your mom picked you up early from school because lunch had made you throw up. She was driving home along the freeway, switching radio stations and checking your temperature with the back of her hand pressed against your forehead. The car in front of you suddenly swerved to the left and into another car. It lifted into the air, spun around, and crashed down on its roof. Your mom screamed and veered off to the right, avoiding the wreck but almost landing in the guard rail.

The funny thing was you could see it all happening in slow motion, convinced that if you just focused enough, you could skip forward and backward in time, maybe even prevent the accident altogether. You weren’t scared, you didn’t cry; you thought your mom was overreacting when she stopped the car on the side of the freeway, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Later, you found out you were in shock, and later still you couldn’t stop crying until you threw up for the second time that day.

You’re convinced now that if you just focus enough, you could make those two people outside Tommy’s front door walk back to the motorbike and drive off. All you need to do is close your eyes and …

The front door opens and heavy footfalls make the ground beneath you shake. “Tommy?” a deep voice shouts and you flinch. “Tommy?” it repeats and then, in a softer tone, Joel says, “Oh, hey.”

You open your eyes. Joel has taken off his jacket and discarded it over the back of the couch. He has placed his helmet on the windowsill and is now looking at you with mild surprise on his face. “Hey,” he repeats, and you’re not sure whether it’s a greeting or a complaint. Then he closes the distance between you, easily wrangles the beer from your grip with a, “Thanks, sweetheart,” and then walks off into the kitchen.

He doesn’t remember. You’re not sure if you should feel relieved or disappointed.

“Hi, I’m Tess.” His girlfriend kisses you twice, once on each cheek. You heard about people greeting each other like that in Europe, but still your face heats up. “Don’t mind him, he’s annoyed because he just lost a bet.”

“What kind of bet?” you ask, the sound of your breathy voice foreign in your ears.

Tess takes off her jacket and places it on top of Joel’s before answering. “I bet him ten dollars you’d be pretty,” she says with a big smile. “He lost because he thinks no pretty girl in her right mind would go out with his brother.”

Then she takes your arm and leads you toward the backyard and the two men waiting for you.

*******

He doesn’t remember … but how could he not? How could last Friday not have meant anything to him? Shit! Does it mean something to you? It shouldn’t, should it? No, it definitely shouldn’t. But still, you wish he’d give you just one sign that he remembers.

Or maybe you’ve got it wrong. Maybe Joel isn’t the man from the other pick-up truck at all. Maybe Tommy has another brother, maybe he’s Joel’s identical twin. No, that’s ridiculous, this isn’t one of those soap operas your mom loves to watch. No one in real life has an evil twin.

“What are you smirkin’ at?” Tommy asks, handing you a bowl of potato salad.

Your cheeks heat up. “Nothing.”

Joel is the man from the other car, you’re certain about that. You keep coming back to how his eyes looked that night, how they look fixed on you now. It has to be him. Even though he’s relaxed and there’s an easy smile on his face, Joel looks at you as if he wants to see inside of you, right to your very core, and figure you out. And if he isn’t the man from the car, why would he be doing that?

And if he is, why did he brush you aside earlier?

You slump back in your chair. What were you expecting? Did you want him to say, “Oh, it’s you! Tess, it’s the girl who watched us fuck last week, do you remember?” Of course not. You want to forget the whole thing, pretend it never happened. It’s bad enough you let it happen in the first place, but it’s even worse now you know who that stranger is … he’s no stranger at all, he’s your boyfriend’s brother.

Boyfriend? Where did that come from?

“You okay?” Tommy squeezes your hand. “You barely touched your food.”

“I know what’s the matter,” Joel announces, and your entire body freezes up. You hear the blood rushing in your ears. “Now that she’s seen my bike, she’s realized she’s dating the wrong Miller brother.”

“Joel!” Tess protests, but laughs. Is she mocking you? She is, isn’t she?

Tommy rolls his eyes. “A man needs more than a bike to make him interestin’.”

“Like what?” Joel challenges. When Tommy opens his mouth, he quickly adds, “No, never mind, whatever it is you ain’t got it.”

Tommy lets go of your hand (you hadn’t even realized he was still holding it) and turns to Tess, who is sitting opposite you. She’s trying to hide a smirk, but she’s failing miserably. “Tess, please control my brother.”

“I’m sorry they’re like that,” Tess says, ignoring Tommy. “You’ll get used to it though.”

Joel turns to you. “Do you have siblings?”

You sit up so fast you bump your knee into the table and topple over your beer bottle. “Shit!” you swear. “Sorry. Let me –,” but Tess stands up.

“Don’t worry about it.” And she’s off to the kitchen.

You don’t want her to clean up your mess so you make to follow her, but Joel pins you in place with a glare. “Well? Do you?”

“Do I what?” you ask, watching Tess come back with a roll of paper towels.

“Siblings,” Tommy says with a laugh. Then he turns to Joel. “Yes, she has an older sister. She’s even less of a people person than you.”

“Well, this one could do with a little loosening up herself.” Joel nods toward you.

Your stomach curls tight with annoyance, but before you can say anything, Tommy replies, “She’s pretty loose, thank you.”

Tess, mopping up your spilled beer, throws you a pitying glance. “Guys, stop embarrassing her.”

“They’re not,” you say quickly, but it gets swallowed by Tommy shouting, “I’m embarrassin’ her?”

Joel winks at you and you wish the ground beneath your chair would open up and swallow you whole. He has to remember, right? And he’s tormenting you to test you or to get you to crack. You just can’t figure out why.

You clear your throat. “I have two older sisters,” you say, and when Tommy raises his eyebrows in surprise, you quickly add, “One lives in Europe, and I never get to see her. My parents … they had a falling out, and she doesn’t talk to any of us.”

Tess squeezes your shoulder sympathetically before going back to the kitchen to discard the used paper towels. Tommy and Joel glance at each other, unsure of what to say. You didn’t mean to make them feel uncomfortable with your complicated family dynamics, but you do feel some subdued glee at their speechlessness.

When Tess comes back, none of you have said anything yet. “I think every good family should have drama,” she says, sitting down in Joel’s lap instead of her chair. “There’s no point in surrounding yourself with boring people.”

Joel tickles her and she squeals. “Says the only child whose parents would do anything for her.”

You look at Tommy, a question on your lips, one you haven’t asked yet because it didn’t seem important in the whirlwind of the last few weeks. But before you can ask it, Tess changes the subject.

“So, how’s college?”

This time, you manage not to jump out of your skin when being addressed. “How do you know I’m in college?”

“Because Tommy boy can’t shut up about you,” Joel answers, flicking a potato wedge at his brother.

“Hey!” Tommy protests loudly, but to you it sounds like he’s far away, maybe somewhere below water. You try to focus on something solid, like the plate in front of you, but everything is blurry. You’re feeling about a million feelings at once, and yet your inside is an empty void that is longing for something to fill it. Tommy has been talking about you to Joel and Tess. A lot, apparently. And yet here you are, your head spinning from the cocky way Joel teases his brother, the protective way he holds onto Tess, longing for his attention on you. This is wrong.

“It’s good,” you answer Tess’ question, taking a sip from a fresh bottle of beer that makes you cough.

“That’s it?” Tess asks. “What are you studying? Where do you live? Do you have a college boyfriend who dreams about you raising his babies?”

You laugh loudly and Tess beams. “I don’t know what Tommy told you about me, but one man is about as much as I can handle.” You smile at Tommy. “He’s all I need.” Tommy’s chest swells with pride. “But I live in a dorm, and I want to go on to law school.”

“Wow.” Tess sounds genuinely impressed, but there’s a strange glint in her eyes. “We have to watch what we say around you then.”

“As if the law has ever kept you from doing what you want,” Joel teases.

“Oh, shut up.” Tess laughs and kisses him, hard, a hand in his dark curls. Joel’s eyes flutter shut, and your stomach flutters in response.

Tommy clears his throat and you jump. “We have company.”

Tess bites Joel’s bottom lip and you think you hear him growl. “What are you, my mom?”

For some reason, Tommy’s comment rubbed you the wrong way. You’re not a child. You can handle two people kissing in front of you. “I’ve been to frat parties,” you laugh. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Tess lets go of Joel’s hair. “Really? What was it like? I always wanted to go to one.”

“They can be fun,” you answer cautiously, glancing at Tommy. “But they’re also … if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

“So they’re not like in the movies?” Tess presses. “You know, strippers and booze and then someone draws a gun?”

Joel turns to her, one eyebrow cocked. “What kind of movies are you watching?”

“Never you mind.” She pats his cheek.

“There are no strippers and no guns,” you answer seriously as if you’re used to answering questions like that. “But there’s a lot of alcohol. That’s why they’re all the same. People get drunk, punch each other, and then throw up.”

“Sounds like a typical Tuesday night for us, doesn’t it, Joel?” Tommy winks at his big brother.

“Can you take me to a frat party?” Tess asks suddenly. You’re not sure if she’s mocking you, but her face is serious.

“I …,” you start slowly, not sure what to say.

“Oh, come on.” Tess laughs. “You’ll be the most popular girl, bringing a cool older woman like me.”

Now that you know she’s mocking you, it’s easy for you to play along. “I don’t think those frat boys are into older women,” you say with an apologetic smile.

Tess’ mouth falls open. “You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?” she asks, turning to Joel.

Joel shrugs, then looks directly at you. The hairs at the back of your neck stand up. “I like her. I think she’s funny.”

*******

“Sorry about my brother,” Tommy says, a crooked smile on his lips. “And Tess.”

It’s later. You’ve moved from the backyard into the living room. The heat of the June day still lingers in the slight headache you have, but it’s nice and cool inside. Still, your cheeks feel hot to the touch and you’re lightheaded, your heart hammering in your chest, even as your head is comfortably resting against Tommy’s shoulder. It’s the heat, you tell yourself. Nothing more. Certainly not Tommy’s brother who watched you come a week ago and doesn’t even remember it.

You laugh. “It’s alright. I like them.”

You do. It’s not important that your stomach curls tightly whenever Tess touches Joel. That’s an understandable, reasonable reaction, one no one could blame you for, one you can easily ignore. It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. What’s more important is the fact that you’ve survived the dinner without embarrassing yourself, that the panic you felt when recognizing Joel was completely unfounded. You did well, all things considered, and there is absolutely no reason why Tommy should ever find out about your little secret.

You lean in closer to him. “Do you think Tess likes me?” you ask.

He shifts against your cheek. “What makes you say that?”

“She was making fun of me, right? When she asked me to take her to a frat party?”

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to laugh. “No, she was completely serious. Tess has a very … direct way that makes her sound like she’s not being serious. But believe me, you’d notice if she wouldn’t like you. She’s also very direct with that.”

“And Joel?” you ask carefully.

Tommy slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer. “Joel is … he’s … he’s very protective of me. It’s annoying, believe me, but it always takes him a while to warm up when I bring someone home.”

Your heart stutters. “Protective? How?”

“He doesn’t want me to get hurt. As if I can’t take care of myself.”

“Has that happened before?” you ask carefully, but you might as well have asked the wall. Tommy doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even shake his head or shrug his shoulders. Maybe that’s a conversation for another time.

“I think I’m gonna get myself another beer,” Tommy finally says, and shifts to get up.

“No,” you protest. “Let me. I wanted to get one for myself anyway.”

You stand, and Tommy smirks up at you. “I could get used to that.”

“Well, don’t.” You give him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be right back.”

You make your way to the kitchen, taking pleasure in Tommy’s wistful sigh as you walk out of sight. He probably has been hurt in the past, you decide, but that doesn’t stop him from opening himself up to another person. Is that fun summer fling you wanted to have about to get much more serious than you had planned? At the threshold to the kitchen, you turn around to look back at Tommy lounging on the couch and return his soft smile. You’re not prepared for anything more serious between the two of you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do your best to treat Tommy right.

The kitchen isn’t empty. Tess is standing by the sink, taking care of the dishes. Maybe you should feel bad for not having offered to help her, but it’s obvious your help isn’t wanted. Behind Tess there’s Joel, pressing his chest into her back, holding her tightly against his body. Tess makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan when Joel nuzzles her neck and simultaneously moves an open palm downward against her stomach. You stop, your smile frozen on your lips, your hands cold and clammy, balled into fists against your sides. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before (and what is there to see, really?), but you should leave or make your presence known at the very least. You don’t.

Joel bites down onto Tess’ neck and she gasps. You almost do too, but the sound gets stuck in your throat. Joel’s other hand finds its way to Tess’ throat and he lightly closes his fingers around it, moving her head to the side so he has better access to her neck. Her neck disappears under his broad palm and big fingers and your chest tightens with adrenaline. You hadn’t noticed the size of his hands before but suddenly it’s all you can think about. That, and what it would feel like to have them around your neck, to feel the callouses on his fingers against your skin, to feel the heat radiating off of him.

With a low growl, Joel presses his crotch against Tess’ backside and she sighs. You feel both sounds all over your body; it’s as if Joel and Tess aren’t caressing each other but you. You wonder what it would feel like to … You take a step forward and bump your foot into a box that’s stowed against the wall. Its contents rattle insistently and Tess straightens her back, her head snapping in your direction.

You can’t read the look on her face but you know you’d feel embarrassed if someone caught you and Tommy in such an intimate situation.

“Joel,” she says. Is it a warning?

Maybe he doesn’t hear her, or maybe he doesn’t care, but he doesn’t stop. The hand that’s been resting against Tess’ stomach moves lower and lower, and you can’t really tell from where you’re standing but it looks like his fingers are disappearing inside her jeans. And she’s still looking at you, her green eyes sharp in the dim kitchen light. What should you do? Stay and watch? You almost laugh at the ridiculousness of that idea, pushing aside an ever-growing desire to do just that, but there’s also something else – an irritation bordering on jealousy that you have no right to be feeling. The smart thing to do here would be to avert your gaze, get the beers from the fridge, and leave.

But then two things happen at once and you can’t move a single muscle in your body.

The first one is that Joel’s fingers inside Tess’ pants must’ve reached their destination and she moans, her eyes still locked to yours. Then she nods at you and smiles and you think … you think she might be telling you to join them. That thought terrifies you. You won’t cheat on your boyfriend who’s waiting for you only a room away, but there is an insistent pressure between your legs that’s harder and harder to ignore.

The second thing that happens is that Joel whispers in Tess’ ear, loud enough for you to hear. “I know, baby. You’re doing so well. You’re drenched, do you know that?” The way he says drenched captures your attention much more than Tess’ presumed invitation ever could. He knows you’re there, he must know it, and yet he … A hungry, growling desire awakens in you and you realize that no matter how hard you try, you can’t play down the encounter in the parking lot; you can’t even walk away from this, even if it would be so easy.

“Joel …” Tess’ eyes flutter shut when he cups one of her breasts with his big hand.

You want to say his name too, want to make him look at you, but then Tess’ fingers go slack and she drops the cutlery she’s been holding into the sink. It hits the steel with loud clanks and shakes you out of your stupor. Hot shame rolls through your stomach and up into your throat, settling there in the form of a lump. You stumble toward the fridge on unsteady legs like a newborn fawn, ignoring Tess’ giggles and Joel’s breathless pants that could also be a chuckle. You grab two beer bottles and rush out of the kitchen without looking back.

The last thing you hear is Tess saying, “Shit, Joel. Do you think we scared her?” and Joel replying, “Who cares?”

*******

The joint between your lips helps you relax and you sink deeper into the couch, hoping it will swallow you up. Tommy takes it from you and takes a drag, sighing happily. It doesn’t matter, really, that Joel and Tess don’t like you, that they were trying to rile you up. Let them think you’re young and stupid and inexperienced. What does it matter to you? You giggle and pull Tommy, who was just trying to pass the joint to Joel, toward you. You take it back instead and inhale deeply.

“Careful, darlin’.” Tommy laughs. “Ain’t no need to impress me.”

You ignore him and kiss him instead, letting him taste the sweet aroma of the weed on your lips. He returns your kiss but takes the joint from you and finally passes it on to Joel who’s sitting on a chaise longue, legs spread widely, Tess on his lap. You don’t know what happened between them after you left the kitchen, but the flush on Tess’ cheeks when they finally emerged left no room for imagination. You feel a stab of jealousy.

“First time?” Joel asks you with a smirk.

You shake your head. “I’m not as innocent as you think.”

Joel’s eyes glide over your body, from your relaxed eyelids down to your exposed thighs where your dress has ridden up your legs. “Who said anything about innocent?”

“I know you think I’m young and stupid.” Under different circumstances, the words might have sounded like you were hurt but the big smile you can’t seem to turn off softens the blow.

Joel laughs, and it sounds real. At least the flutter in your stomach is real. “I don’t,” he says. “But it’s funny you should think that.” He places his hand possessively on Tess’ knee and Tess leans into him. “I’m just making sure you’re alright. And that you’re not getting yourself into a situation you can’t handle.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I can handle more than you think.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Joel teases.

Next to you, Tommy sighs. “Can you flirt with your own girlfriend, please?”

Your reaction to the weed dampens the feeling of shame that would have consumed you had you been sober. Joel tightens his hold on Tess and Tess closes her eyes, a happy smile on her lips. Is she saying, “He’s mine”? He is, that’s obvious. She doesn’t have to rub it in though. Wait. Why do you care? You’re with Tommy … you don’t care who Joel is fucking.

“If that’s flirting to you, I’m surprised you got her to agree to go out with you,” Joel retorts.

Her … why does your stomach flutter when he talks about you like you’re not in the room? You turn to Tommy, a seductive smile on your lips … or at least you hope it looks like that. “Tommy’s very good at flirting … he had me wrapped around his little finger in no time.”

Tommy kisses you and you close your eyes to focus on the glide of his lips against yours. He manages to sneak a hand between your shoulders and the backrest of the couch, and cups the back of your head, pressing you closer to him. You melt, forgetting why you felt so irritated and somewhat lost only a few seconds ago.

But then Joel’s voice bursts your warm and happy bubble. “That’s just because you’ve never dated a real man before.”

“Joel,” Tess warns, but you’re already confronting him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, your chin raised in defiance.

Joel’s eyes flicker with triumph at how easy it is to get a rise out of you, and you wish you had ignored him. But it’s too late to go back to making out with Tommy and pretending you haven’t heard him.

“You’re what … 19? How many boyfriends have you had? And they were probably kids like you.”

Your face heats up with anger but before you can say, “Why is everyone so obsessed with my dating history?” Tommy snaps, “That’s enough, Joel.”

You watch as Joel’s shoulders tense and for a moment you expect him to ignore his brother but then he laughs. “I’m just messing with her.”

For some reason, you focus on Tess’ confused face – not Tommy sinking back against the cushions or Joel’s raised palms. She looks as lost as you feel.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to be nice for a change,” Tommy grumbles.

Tess leans forward and extends her hand holding the joint out to you. You take it from her with a grateful smile, your hands briefly touching over the coffee table. “Thanks,” you whisper.

“Tommy’s right,” Tess says and looks down at her boyfriend. “Relax, Joel.” And before Joel can protest, her hand is on his jaw and she kisses him. Just like before, his eyes flutter shut, and just as before, your stomach flutters in response. You ignore it, the irritation you feel now palpable in a pressure on your chest.

“He ain’t always like that.” Tommy’s voice is low as he plucks the joint straight out from between your lips. “He’s –”

“Hey!” you protest. “I wasn’t done with that yet.”

Tommy only smirks at you, takes a drag, then passes it on to Joel. “He’s quite nice once you get to know him.”

Joel snorts. “You make me sound like a dog.”

“Well, you’re behaving like one,” you snap.

Everyone turns to you and you clap a hand over your mouth in shock. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud, hadn’t even meant to think it. It must be the weed talking. Or the alcohol. But you haven’t had much of either.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, bracing yourself for the inevitable cruel response.

Joel only laughs, his chest vibrating, head thrown back. “Please, you have nothing to apologize for,” he snorts between two laughing fits. Tess smiles, whether at your discomfort or his amusement you can’t tell. Tommy puts one possessive arm around your shoulders. Joel manages to catch his breath eventually. “Where did you find her, Tommy?”

When Tommy doesn’t respond, you turn to him. His face has gone dark, and you feel like you’re missing something. “Joel, that’s enough,” he repeats and you don’t quite understand what’s going on.

Joel sighs. “Oh, come on, Tommy.” He drags on the joint with practice movement, then passes it on to Tess without looking at her.

After that, everyone is quiet. Is it your fault? Is Joel angrier at you than he lets on? But why is Tommy staring at his older brother like he’s planning on slashing the tires of Joel’s truck later? You don’t quite know how to save the evening but you have to try.

“We went to high school together actually,” you answer Joel’s question. You lean into Tommy. “I had the biggest crush on him but he never noticed me.”

Joel smirks mockingly, but it’s over in a flash. “He can’t keep his eyes off you now.”

A warm tingling sensation crawls down your spine. “Well, he ain’t half bad to look at himself.”

“He has your full attention then?” There’s something in the way he says it that makes your blood run cold. And for the first time since Joel walked in through the front door this evening you wonder if he might remember after all.

“I enjoy every minute I spend with him, if that’s what you mean,” you answer.

Before Joel can make things worse, Tess climbs off his lap and stands. “I’m going to the bathroom.” Then she looks at you. “Are you coming?” she says with such authority you don’t even have time to think about it before you find yourself following her down the hallway.

Tess pulls you into the bathroom and closes the door behind you. “Listen to me,” she starts. “I love Joel but he can be an asshole. Especially where Tommy is concerned. I don’t know if Tommy has told you this, but their parents died young and Joel feels responsible for him. He thinks no girl is good enough for Tommy. Ignore him. I can see the way Tommy looks at you. Everyone can.”

You’re stunned into silence by Tess’ words, but the longer you wait to say something, the denser the tension between you grows. “We’re just having fun,” is what finally comes out of your mouth.

“And Tommy knows that?” Tess presses.

“We haven’t talked about it yet.” Or have you? You don’t remember everything you said to him in the heat of the moment. “But I’m going back to college in the fall.”

“No one is trying to keep you here,” Tess assures you. “And if Tommy is just after a summer romance, then that’s none of Joel’s business. Just be honest with him. And don’t hurt him.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Then why does guilt gnaw at your conscience?

Tess smiles at you softly, unaware of the churning in your stomach. “I know you weren’t. Just don’t dump Tommy because his big brother was weird to you.” She grabs one of your hands and squeezes it. Then she opens the door and winks at you. “But I know you’re too smart for that anyway.”

You have a few seconds, no more, to try and make sense of it all. You fail. Your feelings are all over the place and you wish you could sit down somewhere quiet for a few hours and sort through them. Why does it feel like everyone expects certain things from you and you can’t seem to keep them in their place because you have no idea what you want yourself? When did this summer fling get so serious?

Before you can find an answer for just one of these questions, Tommy is calling for you, and you make your way back to the living room, your heart hammering in your chest.

*******

You wake up with a start. At first, you think you’re back in your college dorm, but your surroundings don’t make sense. The dresser is standing against the wrong wall, the window isn’t where it’s supposed to be, the bed is so big … and you’re not sleeping in it alone. You’re at Tommy’s place! The world rights itself as you regain your sense of direction. It’s so dark in Tommy’s bedroom that you can barely make out the shapes of the objects around you. It must still be the middle of the night or very early in the morning, but you can’t be certain.

Your head hurts, your mouth is sticky with thirst, and you have no memory of how you ended up in Tommy’s bed. You remember that dinner, you remember Tess asking you to be careful not to hurt Tommy, you remember Tommy’s hand under the hem of your dress, his hand climbing higher and higher, the way Joel looked at you … You inhale sharply, and Tommy stirs but doesn’t wake up.

You need to get some water. Once you’re not thirsty anymore, it’ll be easier to make sense of it all. Carefully, you climb out of the bed, your eyes glued to Tommy’s naked chest to make sure you don’t wake him. The last thing you need is some deep talk at 2 AM that has you making promises you can’t keep just because the late hour makes you feel closer to Tommy than ever before. Tommy sleeps on though, even when you open the bedroom door with a creak that makes you jump.

Outside, the dark hallway reminds you of how unfamiliar you are with Tommy’s house. Yes, this isn’t your first time sleeping here, but the last time you weren’t trying to find the kitchen in the middle of the night, sneaking around the house like a burglar. Maybe Tommy’s bathroom is the safer option if you don’t want to wake everyone. You remember it being on the right of Tommy’s bedroom.

You haven’t taken more than three steps before you hear it – the creaking of a bedframe. At first you think Tommy has woken up but he doesn’t call out for you. And then you realize the creaking is coming from the other bedroom – Joel’s bedroom.

No! It’s no business of yours to find out what’s going on behind that door, no business at all. You’re going to get some water and then you’re going back to bed. For once you’re going to follow your sensible brain and not …

There is a soft moan your body immediately responds to by setting butterflies loose in your stomach. The voice that says, “No,” is fighting, but it’s growing weaker. Your hand on the bathroom doorknob feels sweaty but you make no motion to turn it, listening into the quietness of the house. For a short while, everything remains quiet and you think maybe all you heard was someone moving in their sleep. You feel a hot wave of embarrassment when you realize you’re disappointed – what is wrong with you? You should feel relieved instead.

It’s the drugs and the alcohol that make you feel and think and act like this. Once you’ve sobered up, everything else will be fine. One hand pressed against the bathroom door to prevent any creaking when you open it, you finally turn the knob, suddenly missing the warmth and comfort of Tommy’s bed. Just a quick glass of water and then you’ll be back with him, falling asleep in an instant.

It’s not the creaking or the moaning that makes you halt in the doorframe, but it’s the deep rumble of Joel’s voice this time. You can’t make out the words, but they still make you freeze, dry up your throat and set your heart pounding. There is no way you will be able to ignore that, not with your mind still clouded and your body humming with a desire impossible to control.

The bathroom door quivers when you let go of the knob but doesn’t fall shut. Nothing seems to be moving in the house except you, as you carefully tiptoe to Joel’s bedroom door. You don’t know what it looks like, that room behind it. Tommy didn’t include it in the house tour and you’re not one to snoop. You giggle at how wrong you were about yourself, but there’s no merriment in it, just a dry realization. There is only so much you can blame on drugs and alcohol.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Joel’s voice hits you in the pit of your stomach like a bullet. Before you know what you’re doing, your ear is pressed against the thin plywood, eager to hear more.

Tess’ answer is an appreciative moan that rushes down your back in a pleasant shiver. The bedframe creaks again before she sighs, “Oh, Joel! Fuck!” and then gasps as if coming up for air.

You almost gasp too, but the sound gets stuck in your throat when you hear Joel chuckle. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Tess begs, and in her eagerness makes it all sound like one long word.

What comes next is a series of wet sounds mixed in with Tess’ moans and pants. It’s only when Joel moans too, and it’s a muffled sound that you realize what it is they’re doing. You press and open palm against the door to steady yourself while your other hand hangs down at your side, your fingers flexing eagerly. Your core feels like it’s on fire and when Tess sighs, “Yes, yes,” and Joel growls like he’s too far gone for human sounds, you whimper desperately. But you won’t touch yourself, no matter what, you won’t …

“No, no, no, Joel, don’t stop,” Tess suddenly groans and Joel replies, “I don’t want you to come yet. You taste like heaven.”

Maybe a stronger woman would be able to walk away from this. Maybe a stronger woman wouldn’t press her fingers against her clothed clit and swallow a dry sob of relief. Maybe a stronger woman would feel guilt and shame. But you’re not that woman. And you have never felt this alive.

Tess whimpers and groans and the bedframe creaks and creaks. Joel is eerily quiet now except for the occasional sigh. And you don’t dare to move; only when you hear his voice do you press your fingers tighter against your clit. It makes you feel closer to him.

Tess’ moans are slowly but surely reaching another crescendo, the bedframe seems to be fighting for its life, and you exhale shakily when –

“Do you like what you hear?”

You twist around so fast your elbow bumps into Joel’s door, but they don’t hear the noise or they don’t care, because the sounds don’t die down.

“Tommy,” you whisper, your face burning with the shame and guilt you were supposed to feel earlier.

He’s leaning against the doorframe of his own bedroom door, arms crossed in front of his chest, hair rumpled from sleeping. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed or disgusted. Instead, there’s a cocksure grin on his face that you can’t read properly in the darkness of the hallway.

“Again, darlin’, do you like what you hear?” he repeats.

Your throat is completely dry and you don’t dare to move, afraid your legs might give way if you do. Tess’ moans fill the silence between Tommy and you; they heat up your cheeks and make it impossible for you to form a single, coherent thought. A single, coherent thought that would get you out of this situation unscathed that is.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, as if you just climbed innumerable flights of stairs. Your heart beats as if you did, too.

The cocksure grin on Tommy’s face doesn’t flicker. “Thought so,” he says with a superior tone, as if he just proved a point. “Knew you weren’t as innocent as all that.”

You wish he would keep his voice down. “But it’s not what you think it is.”

“It’s exactly what I think it is.” He takes a few steps toward you until you feel trapped between his body in front of you and the lewd sounds behind you. “I’m sure they’d let you watch if you asked.”

That same terror you felt in the kitchen earlier grabs a hold of you again. “I don’t –” you start but Tommy interrupts you.

“You’re allowed to want that,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, breath hot. “Doesn’t mean I’m willing to share you.” His hand closes tightly around your wrist and when he pulls you toward his own bedroom with sure steps, you stumble after him. The moans have stopped and, with a slight irritation, you realize you miss them. When you pause to close the door behind you, Tommy takes your other hand in his and shakes his head. “Leave it.” Those two words send a bolt of excitement through you, the irritation forgotten.

Tommy pushes you onto the bed, not forcefully but not gently either, and you lie there, propped up on your elbows, watching him. His naked chest is heaving, and even though his words were nothing but steady, a storm is brewing inside of him. A shiver runs down your spine as he pushes back his hair with both hands, his eyes flickering lower to where you let your knees fall open for him.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he sighs, falling onto his knees at the foot of the bed.

You’ve been called other things before, more eloquent things, but never before have you actually believed those words. With Tommy it’s different. With Tommy, you feel like he means what he says and isn’t just using lines on you that he picked up from a bad porn movie. You take off your underwear without him having to ask.

His left hand lands on top of your right thigh, his skin warm against yours, the callouses on his thumb brushing against one of the most sensitive spots of your body. You flex your fingers, fighting hard to keep your hips steady. With his right thumb, Tommy brushes all the way from your opening through your drenched folds up to your clit in a slow pace, as if he’s cataloguing every inch along the way. Self-consciously, you trap a desperate groan in your chest by biting down hard on your bottom lip.

Tommy laughs incredulously. “You’re drenched, you know that?”

It’s not the first time tonight you hear those words, the memory making your hips twitch against Tommy’s grip. You nod.

“Should I be jealous?” he asks and you sit up so fast something in your neck cracks.

“No!” you blurt.

Tommy chuckles. “I’m just teasin’ you. Nothin’ wrong with a bit of healthy competition.”

Maybe your attraction to Joel isn’t all that bad, you think, lying back down, eyes firmly fixed on the dark ceiling. Maybe it’s something Tommy wants to encourage even.

Tommy’s thumb is circling your clit now, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing. With a soft moan, you try to relax against the mattress but can’t stop yourself from listening for sounds from the other bedroom.

“Relax, darlin’.” Tommy presses a soft kiss against the side of your knee, then rests his cheek against it. “Let me hear how much you’re enjoyin’ yourself.” Then he adds, under his breath, “Let them hear.”

When he pushes a finger into you, you groan loudly, but immediately bite down on your wrist to stifle that sound.

“Come now, none of that,” Tommy says. “Don’t you want to get back at them?”

There is something in the way he says it that makes you pause. For a few moments, you allow yourself to imagine Tess, lying in Joel’s arms, giggling at something funny he just said, the sounds dying in her throat when she hears you groan. Maybe she would tell Joel to be quiet, startled by your gall, maybe Joel would pretend not to care but secretly commit every single one of your sighs to memory, no matter how little. Maybe he’d even be impressed with you, telling Tess, “Sounds like Tommy finally has a fun girlfriend”.

What you want him to be, though, is jealous.

Tommy adds a second finger and this time you don’t try to stifle the sound that escapes you. You shift, so Tommy can reach deeper, transfixed by the wet sounds of his fingers moving between your legs. You meet Tommy’s thrusts with small rolls of your hips, eager for friction, panting under your breath. Your forehead feels clammy with sweat, the air in the room is stifling, but you don’t care about any of that when Tommy licks from where his fingers are buried inside of you up to your clit, the sensation of his mustache brushing against your most sensitive spots overwhelming.

Still, you’re not all there. Your ears keep straining to hear sounds from the room across the hall, any sounds. You’d be happy with a door creaking in its hinges. At the same time, you’re reluctant to give voice to the pleasure you’re feeling, no matter what Tommy told you, no matter how much you want to be that girlfriend. What if Tess isn’t impressed? What if Joel isn’t jealous? What if they’re over there, laughing at you? What if –

“Darlin’,” Tommy mumbles from between your legs, “you’re thinkin’ so loud I can barely focus.”

“Sorry.” You shift with a sigh, forcing your thoughts to focus on Tommy’s fingers in a way that usually makes you turn into an incoherent mess. Tommy kisses your thigh, the prickle of his mustache making you squirm. “Don’t you ever apologize to me. Just tell me what you need.”

To your annoyance, his kindness makes your eyes sting with tears. “I don’t know,” you whimper.

“Close your eyes,” Tommy orders.

You do as you’re told. The loss of one sense makes your others heighten immediately, especially your hearing. To both your relief and disappointment, you don’t hear any sounds from Joel’s room.

“Stop thinking.” Tommy chuckles. “Tell me how this feels.”

He changes the angle his fingers push into you, stretching you with each slow thrust. It feels amazing. You tell him so.

“Shhhh,” Tommy makes. “Don’t use your words. Tell me with your body.”

“I don’t –,” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Yes, you know how. Just give it a try.”

It’s only then that you realize how desperate you are for him to hold you in place and make you take whatever he gives you. That thought alone is enough to make you shiver.

“Good,” Tommy encourages you. “Now –”

It’s your turn to interrupt him. “Hold me down,” you say so fast it makes it sound like just one word.

Tommy obliges you immediately, pushing you down, palm planted firmly on your hip. You groan in response, your worries from earlier only a dim memory at the back of your mind.

“You like that, huh?” He gives you three vicious thrusts before slowing down again, leaving you gasping for breath.

You sigh in confirmation, but your voice breaks in the middle of the sound, making it come out like a sob. Your hips twitch against Tommy’s hold, eager to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Stop moving.” Tommy squeezes you hard. “You’ll take what I give you.”

Your responding moan is loud enough to make Tommy lose his rhythm, but not loud enough to satisfy him.

“We could do a bit better, don’t you think?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know.” You feel the pressure of a mounting orgasm brushing against the base of your spine. Your heart is beating so loudly, all the way up into your throat, that you couldn’t hear any sounds from the other bedroom even if you tried.

Suddenly, Tommy’s fingers are gone, and so is the hand on your hip. You sob with longing. “Tommy …”

“I’m here,” he mumbles, climbing onto the bed. “Just give me a sec.”

You watch as he rolls a condom onto his completely hard cock, and swallow hard. For some reason, the evidence of how much he’s enjoying this leaves you speechless. Still kneeling, he pulls you toward him and right onto his lap. He’s so much bigger than two of his fingers, but in your heightened state of arousal him pushing you down onto his cock barely scratches a superficial itch.

“It’s your turn now.” Tommy’s smile rekindles the prickling at the base of your spine.

You roll your hips tentatively and immediately feel the pressure mount. Tommy’s eyes flutter shut and he groans, a sound you can feel deep within your core.

“Fuck.” The word slips out from between your lips before you can stop it. And Tommy’s eyes fly open.

“What was that?” he growls.

Now it’s your turn to ask, “You like that?”

Tommy wraps his hand around your throat, framing your jaw with his thumb and forefinger. You roll your hips faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bedroom. You don’t need him to reply; you know the answer already.

Tommy brushes his thumb along your bottom lip and then pushes it into your mouth, pressing it down against your tongue. Eagerly, you close your lips and suck on it, watching as Tommy’s eyes widen in surprise. The air between you is so heavy you can feel it weigh you down and you lose your rhythm, your hips stuttering.

With a jerk, Tommy pulls his thumb out of your mouth. “Look at you.” He tightens his hold on your throat, making you gasp for air, before pushing his index and middle finger back into your mouth. When you taste yourself on his skin, you moan, a sound that turns into a gag when he brushes his fingers against the back of your throat. “Joel is wrong. There’s nothin’ innocent about you.”

The mention of his brother catches you by surprise, as does that moan that rises out of your chest when you imagine Joel looking at you with condescension in his eyes. Luckily, Tommy flicks your clit with his thumb at the same time, giving you an excuse for the lewd sound you’re making.

Tommy eagerly licks his lips. “Louder,” he demands. “I don’t care that they’re in the other room.”

You wrap your hand around Tommy’s arm to steady yourself, your body screaming for release. All you manage is a soft moan, muffled by the fingers pressing down on your tongue.

“You can do better than that.” The note of condescension in his voice makes you clench around his cock. “Let them hear how well I’m fucking you.”

With a sob, your head falls forward, your forehead connecting to Tommy’s almost painfully. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth while rolling your clit under his thumb at the same time, and you lose yourself in whines and groans and pleas that don’t make any sense. You can’t even tell if you’re being loud enough for Tommy, if they hear you across the hall, but just the thought that they might, so daunting a short while ago, finally pushes you over the edge. All you know with absolute certainty is that you scream Tommy’s name when you come, loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood, and that he fucks you through it relentlessly, lowering you down with one smooth motion until your back is pressed into the mattress and he pounds into you with desperate thrusts.

“Tommy,” you groan, holding onto his hips. It’s too much; you want him to stop but you can’t form a single, coherent thought. “Tommy, I don’t …” You feel raw, coming down from the high of your orgasm, but he isn’t done with you yet.

“You’re mine,” he growls into your ear. “Say it.”

Despite your guardedness when it comes to this relationship between Tommy and you, and despite your refusal to apply a label to it, you catch yourself replying, “I’m yours, Tommy. Just yours.”

With that, he empties himself into the condom, twitching inside of you. He kisses you, you kiss him back, your muscles relaxing around him. And from somewhere in the house you think you hear bright laughter.

[katsu28]

hi baby! could i request "[ NUZZLE ] sender presses their face into receiver’s neck" with hangman please! ily<3

LOLA!!! thank u for requesting ily ily <33

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.3k

Jake was finally coming home after a full seven months away on deployment, and you’d never been so excited (and anxious) to see anyone in your whole life.

Seven months of sporadic video calls with shitty audio and even shittier video, seven months of sending emails whenever he could and letters even less often. Seven months of waiting for the love of your life to come back to you, safe and sound. 

Sure, some days were worse than others. Some days you could barely carry on normally with things because you were so worried. Some nights you had nightmares about getting that one letter, that one knock on your door that would send your whole life crumbling to the ground. Some days all you could do was sit on Jake’s side of the bed, clutching one of his shirts to your nose just so you could remember what he smelled like. 

But today was not that day. Today, Jake was coming home. 

You smoothed your dress out nervously as you waited with the rest of the people with family members or partners returning home today, rocking back and forth on your toes in barely contained excitement as you watched the ship dock in port. 

Your eyes combed through the crowd of naval officers and civilians alike, searching for that head of perfectly coiffed hair sticking out above the others. 

The chatter of the crowd around you dulled to a muffled blur of noise the second you laid eyes on him. He hadn’t seen you yet, his own gaze still flitting around at the folks reuniting with their loved ones all surrounding him. His brow was furrowed in the utmost concentration, and you almost wanted to play it out a little longer, have him wait a little longer just to make your reunion that much sweeter. 

But your need to bury yourself in his arms, to feel his warm skin beneath your fingertips, to finally, finally kiss him until neither of you could breathe anymore—that need was greater than anything else at the moment. 

Breaking out into a run, you ducked and weaved through person after person as you made your way towards Jake. You nearly bowled him over with the force of your hug when you finally got to him, barely giving him enough time to drop his bag as you threw yourself into his arms with a cry. 

“Holy shit,” Jake inhaled, steadying himself enough to withstand the force of your hug. He sounded amazed, breathless like he couldn’t believe you were here in front of him at this very moment. “Holy shit!” 

Your nose pressed into his neck, the smell of sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of engine smoke accompanying the familiar smell of his cologne. This wasn’t a smell you could get from one of his old shirts. It was raw, unfiltered, so very Jake that you could damn near sob right now. Seven months of missing your man really took a toll on your emotional state. 

“Hi,” You mumbled against his skin, squeezing him so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you were able to meld into him. He murmured back a soft greeting of his own, large hands splaying across your back as he lifted you off your feet and spun you in a circle. You tightened your arms around his neck with a squeal. 

He hooked his shades onto the breast pocket of his uniform as soon as he set you back down on the ground, pretty green eyes flitting around your face, taking in every single detail. “My god, did you get even more perfect while I was away?” 

You felt your cheeks grow hot under his focus. “Oh my god, stop it.” 

“What? I’m so serious right now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop looking at you. Look,” he grinned, not even attempting to cast his gaze elsewhere. “See, I can’t even take my eyes off you. Couldn’t even if I tried. Not that I’d want to, with you lookin’ like somethin’ straight out of my dreams.” 

“You’re horrible.” 

“I’ve just gotten home after months and months away and I’m horrible?” Jake teased, giving your hip a light pinch. Any response you were about to give died in your throat as soon as you registered the weight of his words and you just stared at him, blinking furiously to stop the influx of tears that you knew were coming. It didn’t work. 

Jake saw the tremble of your lip and brought you back against his chest within a second, cradling the back of your head in his palm. His other hand smoothed over your back in small circles, lips pressed to your forehead gently. “Oh hey, hey, you’re okay. Everything’s fine, no need for tears.” 

“Sorry, I’m—god, I’m sorry, Jake,” You breathed, inhaling a shaky breath against the scratchy khaki of his uniform. You retreated a little bit, managing to gather yourself enough to look up at him. 

He gave his head a miniscule shake, mouth curving into a reassuring smile. “No need for sorries. Glad to see you missed me while I was gone.” 

“Of course I missed you, asshole.” 

“Asshole? Me? Shit, maybe you didn’t miss me!” 

“Don’t even joke about that.” You huffed, feigning a glare at him that faltered almost immediately. “You’re really here?” 

“I’m really here, darlin’.” He echoed, sliding his hands over yours and bringing them up to his face so he could press a kiss to both of your palms. “Right here, right now, and I’m not plannin’ on leaving again anytime soon.” 

Happy tears welled in your eyes, your heart thrumming hard in your chest at the mere thought of Jake staying stateside for the foreseeable future. You let out a watery chuckle, smoothing your fingers over the smile lines near his eyes before breaking into a smile yourself. 

“There’s my girl.” Jake hummed, tapping you on the nose lightly. He held you at arms’ length, finally taking the time to fully take in the sight of you. His eyes traveled down the length of your dress, lips curving into a cheeky smirk. “New dress just for me? I’m honored.” 

“You like it?” 

“Oh, I love it,” He hummed, ducking in towards your ear for his next words. “Though I think I’ll love it even more on the floor of our bedroom.” 

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” 

Jake’s eyebrows flew sky high at your insinuation, and he quickly stooped down to snatch up his duffel, throwing it over his shoulder and grabbing your hand in one fell swoop. He pulled you through the crowd until the parking lot, where he let you take over until your car came into view. 

You moved to toss him the keys because you knew he’d probably missed driving through the streets of Fightertown whilst he was away, but before they could leave your hand, he nudged you back against the side of the car. He pushed up close until he was flush against you, and you barely caught a glimpse of his pearly white smile before his mouth was on yours, moving with such a hunger that seemed a bit much for a public setting. Not that you were complaining though, this was the first time you got to kiss him in ages. 

You only remembered you were in a crowded parking lot when Jake’s hand at your waist crept around to give your butt a squeeze, bracing your hands against his chest to push him back a few inches. “What was that for?” You panted, kiss swollen lips parted as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Had to give my girl a proper hello.” He shrugged, pressing a much shorter kiss to your lips before plucking the keys out of your hand and pulling open the passenger door for you like he hadn’t just kissed the living daylights out of you. “You comin’ or what?” Judging by the cheeky smirk gracing his face, he knew what he was doing. 

“Like I said earlier—asshole.” 

“Happy to be home too, darlin’!” 

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[ggukkiedae]

miya

[1:42pm kst, 231212, wc: 783]

(content warning: jimin and kookie’s enlistment)

conversations written in italics are in english

The bustling of the crowd sounded like a blur to her. All she could do was watch the last two of her members get ready for their entrance ceremony. She watched as Yoongi and Hoseok gave them some last pre-enlistment pep talks and as Seokjin approached them with a joking serious attitude before breaking into a large grin and a fit of giggles.

The internal fight of keeping a smile on her face for pictures was one of the hardest things she had done in recent times, yet she pushed herself to do it for her members. Not only was it the last of her members today, it was also her Busan boys.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she gave Jimin the tightest hug she could muster while rubbing her hand against his buzzcut. “Message me when you can. I know it’ll be at least five weeks, but send me proof of life.”

“I promise, Aegi,” he kissed the side of her head before letting go and bending down to look her in the eye. “You just keep messaging me like we agreed, okay? Everything that happens, I want to know. I’ll catch up right when I’m allowed to check my phone again. Got it?”

She nodded, lips pressed into a tight smile. He straightened himself before giving her a salute, the way he did to his family earlier. She bowed to him, muttering a thank you for looking over her and their country before she was pulled into his arms again.

“One more hug before I go,” he gave her a tight squeeze before letting her go. “I love you, my Busan baby.”

“I love you, too,” she grinned. “For the record, your haircut looks amazing on you.”

If the smallest increase of his smile came from her comment, she was proud

“Makdung-ah,” Hoseok called to her, “come wish Jungkookie good luck.”

Yoonmi took a deep breath as she slowly but steadily walked over to them. This was probably the goodbye (although temporary) that she was least ready for.

She made it to them, looking at her feet, not knowing what would happen if she met Jungkook’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jungkook laughed, “stop being a coward, and look me in the eye, Mimi.”

She rolled her eyes at him and looked at Hoseok with an accusatory expression. Hoseok simply laughed and gestured to look at Jungkook. She did, which she almost immediately regretted.

Twelve years of friendship and being by each other’s side almost every single day flew through her mind at such a rapid pace that she almost got whiplash.

This person standing in front of her has been her number one ride or die best friend for more than half her life. The longest they had been apart from each other that she could remember was two weeks, but they’d usually spend every day or every other day together for the past four years.

And there he was, getting ready to enter military camp where they wouldn’t be able to talk for a while and wouldn’t be able to freely meet each other as often for an even longer time.

She knew these thoughts weren’t just hers, his eyes were watering as well.

“Come here,” he pulled her into a hug, letting her wrap her arms around his neck while he enveloped her around her waist, lifting her up off the ground just the slightest bit.

“You take care of yourself and Jiminie oppa in there, okay?” she mumbled into his clothes, not wanting to look up because tears were threatening to escape her eyes already.

“Only if you remind Haechan that he’ll never beat me on your best friend tier even when I’m away for over a year,” he chuckled, squeezing her tight.

She laughed, though it was strained by her starting to cry, “Of course. It’s you and me, best friends in the entire universe.”

She didn’t bring attention to how she could feel warmth drip onto her neck, just under where his eyes were. It was another two minutes of them just basking in each other’s company before Seokjin approached them, tapping their shoulders.

“As much as I don’t want to do this,” Seokjin gave them an apologetic smile, “we have to separate you two babies. They have to go in now.”

The two maknaes reluctantly released each other.

Yoonmi reached up to wipe Jungkook’s already barely noticeable tears away. “Go and intimidate all those military people with your muscles and tattoos.”

“You know it,” he laughed and violently ruffled her hair, making her laugh. “I love you. See you on the other side, Mimi.”

“See you on the other side,” she smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

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[georgiapeach30513]

Closer to Heaven and Closer to You, Part 10

Summary:  Frank confronts Ransom about you.

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:   Explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, sex with a bit of an audience, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, sex in a pool, breeding kink, Frank Adler, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

“Ran,” you giggle, pushing Ransom away from you, but he pulls you back to his chest, nipping at your neck.  His hands drifting down your side, before cupping your ass.  “Ransom, your family is going to be here in just a minute.”

“I don’t even care,” he pants, but pulls back to look at you, “Buns, you look beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that because we’re going to pretend that we’re not in each other’s beds almost every night,” cupping your face, he brings you to him for the sweetest of kisses.  Peppering his lips all over your face.

“Mmm, they’re vultures,” he was so joyful as he brings your hips into him.  His hand runs down your side, and your skin begins to tingle with every inch he moves down your skin.  Ransom knew too well what he was doing to you, and knew even better how the two of you had decided to take things so slow.

Your eyes flit around his face before you slot your lips against his.  Hands going up underneath his sweater, and you scratch lightly on his back.  The two of you lost in the kisses of each other.  You couldn’t think of anything sweeter than just how pure Ransom could be.  The way you saw his confidence grow each passing day.  He deserved more than his parents and extended family had given him, and that’s precisely what you were going to do.

Leaning back onto the wall, Ransom lifts up one of your legs, placing it at his hip, while you whimper on his lips.  You didn’t know how long you could hold out anymore, or why either of you had continued to stop yourselves.  It wasn’t even a want as much of a need.  You needed him.  Needed to feel him pressing into your wet heat.  Needed to feel his cock throbbing in your core.  You needed all of him.

“Well, well, well,” Richard’s snake-y voice booms through the sitting room, and like children, you and Ransom pull apart from each other quickly.  This is not how you wanted any of his family to find out.

“Told you he was screwing the help.”

“Jacob, we don’t talk like that.”

“She’s not even the help, she’s Grandpa’s nurse.”

“I see what this is.  Weaseling your way into our family money using my son!”

Ransom pushes your body behind him, standing up proud and tall, he wouldn’t let them insult you, “That’s enough.  She’s not…we’re dating.  This is my girlfriend.”

“Kind of convenient, don’t cha think?  Good looking man, lots of money, a wealthy family.”

“I’m not after Ransom’s money.  I…Ransom, I…” your voice gets lost, and you hide your face in his back.  His family came with him, and he was worth it.  He was worth this.

“I told you.  I told you she was here just to swindle our money.”

“I don’t want your goddamn money.  I came from money, too!” Your voice screeches, as you stomp away from them.  Even though you hear Ransome protest, and call out your name, you need to get away from those disgusting people, and go into the only other room that makes you feel comfortable; Ransom’s office.

“What is your problem?” Ransom glares at each and every single one of his family members.  “You don’t get to come here treating people like that.  And definitely not her.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t fall for some slut that is here only to…”

“She’s not some slut!”

“Then why are you fucking her?”

“I’m not!  We are dating, and we are taking things slow.  I didn’t tell any of you because look how you act.  This is my life, and it’s mine and her relationship.  None of you are included.  Not even the alt right asshole who likes spying on us.  Yeah.  We’ve been together awhile.  I didn’t need you lot to poison our relationship.  I love her!  And there’s nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind.  Now, if you would excuse me, I’m going to find my girlfriend.”

Ransom stomps through the estate and straight to his office.  If you weren’t with Harlan, it’s where you always were.  Like this unspoken way to find you.  Slinging open the door, he sees you look up at him through your lashes with a strained smile.  “Buns, I’m…” turning around, you push all his papers and things into the floor.  Smiling when they make a loud raucous, and you hope his family enjoys the show.  “Bunny, no.”

“Ransom, I love spending time with you, and I want this.”

“Why?  Tell me why because we don’t owe them anything.”

Turning back to look at him, you go underneath your dress to take off your panties, letting them fall to the floor before you step out of them.  Lifting up your dress you lean back on his desk and spread your legs slowly.  Making sure he sees your weeping cunt, and just how ready you were, “I don’t care what they or anyone else says, Hugh Ransom Drysdale, I love you.  I know what being in love is now because I’m so in love with you that it hurts not having this part of you.”

Ransom had never heard anything so beautiful in his life.  No one, to his knowledge, had ever said that to him.  No one had ever made him feel the way that he did.  “I’m in love with you.”

“I didn’t say that to force you into telling me.  I…”

“Bunny, I love you,” walking closer to you, he starts to undo his pants; there is too many clothes separating the two of you.  Your hands go under his sweater, and you pull it off.  Spinning you around, Ransom slowly undoes the zipper on your dress, letting it cascade to the floor, and he kicks it to the side before he places you back on the desk.  Removing your bra with one hand, “Wow.”

Holding his cock firmly in his hand, he smears his tip, leaking of precum, through your folds, and you yip at the feeling.  Staring deeply into each other’s eyes when he slowly pushes through your tight channel.  Inching through your folds, and both of your forget to breathe.  

Legs spreading wider to accommodate his thick frame.  And just when you think you couldn’t take anymore, he pushes more into your warmth.  Not stopping until he bottoms out, and you gasp, clinging to his arms, needing his body to fully encapsulate yours.

Holding himself still while you get adjusted to his girth.  Smiling through your sweet sounds, and you start to lean back, feeling more comfortable when Ransom’s thumb starts to make tight circles on your bundle of nerves.  “You feel good, Ran,” you choke out.  “You feel amazing inside of me.”

“There’s not a day that will go by that I don’t want to be settled right here,” he taps along your stomach.  Showing you exactly where he was seated at.  

“I love you,” you repeat again.  You wanted him to feel all the love that you had for him.  “I love you, Ransom.”

“I love you,” is the last thing that Ransom is able to get out before he sets at a desperate pace.  The two of you had been aching for one another, and you finally had it.  Frustrated and pissed off at his family, but he was making sure you felt exactly how much he loved you.  How much that he had been craving you, but more than for sex.  The sex was the bonus.  

Your hand slams on the desk as you move to get more comfortable.  Ransom’s thrusts making the desk legs screech and move on the floor, “Yes!” You scream a bit too loud, but Ransom smiles anyway.  Your voice is horse already, and you just know you have to be making the most lewd moans.  Your pussy was definitely squelching throughout this office space.  Filling the small room with Ransom’s new favorite sound.

Ransom grunts as he rails into you, and you can not imagine a time that you had felt this good.  Your hands explore his body, grasping at his ass, and becoming addicted to his noises.  He was fully yours, and you were fully his.

“Well,” Linda clicks, hearing something else fall off the desk.  “I saw this coming the day that she walked through that door.”

“Right there, baby!” Your voice bounds down the hallway directly to his family.  “Yes!  Yes!  Ransom, right there!”

“At least they’re having fun,” Meg shrugs, and her entire family, sans Harlan, turns to glare at her.  “What?  You’ve been accusing the two of them of fucking for months.  Now you know that they are,” she snorts when you clearly was coming.  Otherworldly mewls muffled only by the sound of something slapping onto wood.  “At least he loves her,” Meg adds in when Ransom shouts that he loves you.

“And she’s using him.”

“You say that only because you’re not around them,” Harlan walks into the study.  “Sounds like it’s about on time.  Fran?  Will you have their dinner taken into Ransom’s office when the uh…noise dies down.  At least he has a couch and blankets in there.  Just leave it outside of the…door,” nobody could concentrate with how the two of you were carrying on.  

“That sounded like the bookshelf,” Walt groans, when random items bang onto the floor.

“So it does.  Let’s eat.  You wanted them to have sexual relations so bad Linda, looks like you finally got your wish.  And I would completely drop the subject all together.  Ransom is making preparations.  That woman will be your daughter in law, or you will have a very heartbroken son.  Take your pick.  Dinner.  I’m famished.”

“You’re going to allow this to happen in your house?” Richard points down the hallway, hearing the loud bang of Ransom throwing you up against the wall.  “This is too explicit for dinner.”

“Yeah, well, we can just ignore it, or you can leave.  You insulted her, you insulted your son, and their relationship.  I believe that this is a…”

“Oh fuck me!”

“Ahh,” Harlan’s mouth turns up into a wicked grin at Ransom’s outburst, “I was going to go with this is a fuck you, but I think your son answered for you.  Shall we eat, or is everyone’s stomach turned?”

“Jacob shouldn’t be hearing this,” Donna awkwardly laughs, touching her eyebrow, trying to fake embarrassment when in reality she was jealous of the pleasure you were clearly feeling..  “Wow…she’s vocal.”

“I heard them taking turns going down on each other last week.  He’s just as…vocal.  It’s nothing I haven’t heard.”

Meg cackles when your voice reaches a high pitch, and Ransom is moaning just as loud, “I think that was the grand finale.  Can we eat now?  I’m starving.”

“You can eat with that…noise?” Joanie whines, but Meg just shrugs.

“Judging by their labored breaths, and the noise stopping, they're finished.  I’m eating, Grandpa?  Oh, I don’t dislike her by the way.  Notice how Ransom isn’t such a prick?  I’m going to go with her being the reason,” she walks behind Harlan into the dining room, while the rest of the family wait for a moment.  Contemplating on what they were going to do before following suit.

Ransom carries you over to the couch, and drapes a blanket over both of your bodies, while the two of you gaze at one another.  The most beautiful post sex glow on both of your skin.  This wasn’t how you had imagined the first time with Ransom to be, but it was perfect.  Your relationship was now out in the open, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it.  

Your hand brushes his stray hairs out of your face, and you smile constantly at him.  “Ransom, I love you.  I wasn’t saying that in the heat of the moment.  I love you.  I now can honestly say that this is different.  This is something I have never felt before.”

Grabbing your hand off his face, he brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles, “I love you, too.  I guess…they all know.”

“Let them know.  I didn’t want to hide this anymore anyways.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair,” Ransom calls out, walking into the living after your parents.  “Please, don’t leave.  I stayed behind because…well, I um — I needed to talk to you.  There’s a reason, well, several reasons why your daughter and myself decided to visit.”

“You better not be telling me she’s pregnant,” pregnancy tests were brought, but none had been taken, so Ransom shakes his head no quickly.  “Shit, Faye, I think Ransom needs us to sit down, huh, son?”

“Yes, please,” he gulps, your father grabs your mother’s hand, leading everyone into the living room.  Upon sitting, Ransom just rubs his thighs up and down.  Eyes misting up because there were no words he could think that would ever compare to how he truly felt about you.  “I love your daughter.”

“So we’ve heard,” your mom smiles at Ransom, it was finally happening for you, and the right way.  “She loves you, too.  Doesn’t she, Ronnie?”

“Yeah, yeah.  My daughter has loved before.  Or so she thought.  What makes you different?”

“I don’t want to keep her from her family.  Harlan is my family, and he’s agreed as well.  I want her.  And if I want her I can’t stay in Boston.  I bought us some land on Sowers Road, and had a house built for us, and our future children, and my grandpa, his mom recently passed, and he will be moving here as well, and…”

“It’s a bit premature isn’t it?  Buying a house, and ready to move your grandfather out here.”

“Yes, but I want to marry her, and that’s why I need to ask you both for your blessing.  Bunny is traditional.  She loves the ceremony of things, and she would want me to ask you before I asked her.  I’ve got the ring, here,” Ransom opens the ring box, and slides it across the coffee table, and your mother grips at your dad’s hand.  “I love her more than anything else in this world.  I want a family with her, and I want her to have a perfect little farm, and — I just want her, and whatever comes with her.  Whatever that means.”

“You want kids?”

“Yes.  We both really want kids.”

“You got enough land for a ranch?”

“Yes, sir.  Her friend Bucky has been putting it together.  I don’t know anything about that life, but he does.  And he’s set everything up.  And he’s going to run everything, and I’m going to try and learn that life.”

“But you’re bringing my baby home to me?” Ransom nods at your father.  Your mother was ready to give her approval to Ransom the moment the three of them had walked into the living room.  “I’ll be honest with you, I really hated you.  She was ready to head back to Boston after two days here.  This is only the second time she’s come home, and according to her sister, you are the reason why because she couldn’t leave you.  You’ve got nothing in Boston?”

“Just her and Harlan.  And they’d both be living here.  Mr. Sinclair, I’ve never loved anyone.  Never respected anyone.  Never saw myself planning for the future until your daughter.  So if you could please give me your blessing.”

“You have it,” Faye pipes up, patting on her husband’s leg.  “He’s a hard ass.  We only had girls, and he raised them to take care of themselves.  But at the end of the day my baby wants to be a wife and mother, and take care of her ranch, and the ones she loves.  And you’re that person.”

Ransom leans around you, giving you the sweetest and most tender kisses on your shoulder.  Up in the highest part of the estate had become yours and his sanctuary.  Leaning forward with nothing but a blanket around your waist, you add a bit more blue paint to the canvas.  The sunlight beams into the small room that had become your favorite place to make love, and paint.  

“It’s beautiful, but not quite as much as you,” giggling, you turn your neck, and look at the most handsome man that you had ever met.  “Where is this at?”

“There’s this little area in Montana.  It’s off of Sowers Road, and they have this great tiny little mountain.  Up by itself.”

“Mmm, tell me about this place,” he says, spinning you around.  Even though you were both completely naked, glistening in sweat, and had nothing but a blanket, there was no urge to have sex again, you just were together.  “What did you do there?”

“Me and my sisters would sneak out of the house, and go there.  Lay on this mountain, and look at the land below.  Each of us dreaming up what we would do if the land was ours.  But mostly, we’d lay on our backs and look at the stars.  Waiting for a shooting star to make wish.”

“What was your wish?”

Looking down at his lips, you serenely smile, and lean forward to give him a chaste kiss, “You.”

Ransom rolls his eyes, chuckling, and pushing you back a bit, “Uh-uh, you didn’t even know I existed.  So what did you wish for?”

“I didn’t lie, Ran.  I wished that I would meet someone and fall so deeply in love, and that I would know that I couldn’t live my life without them.  I mean living there would be a dream.  I always felt like being there you were closer to the heavens.  And then I met you, and I realized it didn’t matter where heaven is, because I feel the closer I am to you the closer I am to heaven.  You know, we’ve never talked about our future.  Where do you see us?”

“Hopefully you with a baby in your belly, and a child in my arms,” shaking your head no, you lean forward to lay on his shoulder.  “You don’t want kids?”

“You don’t want them.”

“That’s utter horse shit.  Why would I not want a Bunny or Ransom junior?  Up until I met you, I thought I was destined to be a bachelor.  Boy, did that change.  So do you want kids?”

“Yeah.  I want a house full of kids.  Got their little boots on, not afraid to pet a horse or feed a cow.”

“Ahh, a farm?”

“A ranch, and a mini farm.  Have cute little corgis herding the kids more than the animals.”

“Corgis, huh?” He asks, pulling you in closer when you nod your head.  You wrap your arms around his, sighing when he pulls you into his lap.  “So we’re going to have these corgis that are chasing our kids around?”

“Yes,” Ransom could feel you smiling on his skin.  Feeling you smile was almost as invigorating as seeing it.  “Gucci.”

“Hmm?”

“I want our first corgi named Gucci.”

Ransom finally takes the blindfold off your face, and you look up at the house in shock.  It was beautiful, but it was in your spot.  “This…this is Sowers Road, isn’t?”

“It is.  What do you think of the house?”

“It’s perfect,” tears spring at your eyes because it really was perfect.  Even a pond in front of the house.  “There’s a lookout in the house,” it was like someone had gone on your Pinterest and built the house according to your dreams.  “There’s…Ran, there’s a little dock.  That’s almost exactly where me and my sister’s would lay looking at the stars.”

“Come on, let’s go look at it,” you shake your head no, wrapping your arms around yourself.  You hate to be this way, but someone was getting your dream spot.  “Buns, come on, lets go for a swim.”

“No.”

“Why?” He chuckles, and you pout at him.  It shouldn’t hurt so much to see your dreams obliterated, but it hurts so bad.  Someone was going to be living your dream, “Buns, why?”

“They probably have cameras everywhere.  We can’t just — Ransom, where are you going?”

“Swimming.  Care to join me,” he goes ahead, pulling his shirt off, turning around to look at you slowly getting out of the truck.  His hand goes to his belt as he yanks it out.  Teasing at his button, “Buns, come on!  You get in this pond with me, I’ll buy you Gucci.”

“This is someone’s house,” Ransom points up at the house, and you shrug.

“Babe, there’s no furniture.  Nobody is going to see us.  And if they do, they’re getting a view of my white ass,” standing still, he drops his underwear and pants in one swoop, giving you a wink when you see his dick.  “Bunny, hop on into the pond with me,” taking a deep breath, Ransom jumps into the pond, and you gather his clothes, walking over to it.

“What are you doing?  You’re not getting naked.”

“I’m not having sex with you in this pond.”

“You know it’s not actually a pond?  This is a natural looking pool,” he gives you a shit eating grin, and snaps his fingers, “Get in the pool with me.”

“I’m not having sex with you in this pool.  This is somebody’s house.”

“They’re not here.  They won’t care.”

“No, I’m not doing it.  Someone’s kids could be swimming in this, and your…your cum would be floating in it,” he throws his head back laughing, wading closer to you, “But I will get naked, and swim with you if the water isn’t too cold.”

“It’s heated, sweetheart.  Get in.  I’m not hard, I’m not going to have sex with you, I just want to make out with my girlfriend, and look out at the place that she used to make wishes from,” as quick as possible you start removing your clothes.  It was invigorating to be showing this place to Ransom.  Letting him see just how beautiful it was at night.  “Quit folding our clothes, and get your ass in this pool with me, and let me hold you as the sun sets.”

“You hush, Drysdale!” You take his word for it, and jump into the pool, and thankfully he wasn’t lying.  It feels amazing.  Just what you need.  Coming up, you are quickly jerked to his side.  “This is nice.  Now, you have to get me Gucci.”

“You name what kind of corgi you want and what color, and I will get you Gucci.  Now, C’mere.  The sun will be setting soon.”

“If you get hard, Ran, you’re on your own.”

“Not even if we go back in the truck?”

“That is my dad’s truck!  No!” While you giggle, Ransom blows raspberries on your neck.  His hands wrap around you, and he rubs along your belly.  “I think I should take a test when we get back to my parents’.”

“How about you decide that later.”

“You’re up to something,” peeking back at him, he just shrugs.  Swimming the two of you over to the edge of the pool, “You’re up to something big.  I don’t know if I trust you.”

“Whatever.  Trust me or don’t.  I don’t care,” that sneaky little smile proves just how right you are.  Ransom struggled to keep secrets from you, and for whatever reason, he was currently keeping something.  And a big something.

“Just look at the view,” you sigh, staring out at the setting sun.

Ransom lifts you up and out of the water, tilting his head down at your exposed breasts, “Oh, I’m looking at the view.”

“Ransom!  Are you always horny?”

“Yeah.  That’s what happens when I see you naked.  Now, why don’t we forget what you said earlier…”

“Nu-uh.”

“But you need your medicine.”

Your arm bends, and you cup his cheek.  You were just as guilty as Ransom when it came to being naked around each other.  Your pupils start to dilate as you look at him, “And what’s my medicine?”

“Mmm, something that is going to make you feel so good.  And besides, I want to see this belly so swollen with me,” he gives you a kiss, pulling away, but you hold him closer.  A chaste kiss turning into sin.  Twisting your body around so you can fully look at him.  Can feel his cock hard and hitting at your belly.  “Wait, is sex in the water a smart idea?”

“What?” You whimper, already grabbing the base of his cock.  Lifting a leg up around his body.  “Don’t you stop this now.  You started it.”

“Is it safe?”

“If the people who own this house have cameras it won’t be.  Ran, please, fuck me.  Fuck your seed in me, and let’s make a baby.”

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before crashing into your warmth.  You chirp, pulling him as close to you as possible.  He uses your body to fuck himself just as the sun starts to move behind the mountains creating the most perfect glow over you and Ransom.  This was another dream.  To have sex with the love of your life and see under the most beautiful sky you can think of.  

Stars and the moon start drifting into view, and your fingers grip onto his back.  His tip hits at just the right spot to send you spiraling.  Making the most beautiful sounds that Ransom needs to taste.  Slotting his lips against yours he swallows every strangled mewl.  Growling into your mouth as the two of you race for release.

When you were a child you had never dreamed of this moment.  Didn’t know that sex and making love were two very different things.  Didn’t know that the connection between two people could bind each other’s soul together.  

Ransom’s arms squeeze around your body.  The two of you let out a moan that echoes through the mountains right as Ransom’s voice breaks, eyes squishing close, and his jaw goes slack.  Your walls clenching down around him, and milking every bit of his cum.  The thick seed painting deep in your womb, while you deeply breathe, smiling at the man you know will be your husband.  You didn’t care what order things happened, Ransom would be your husband, the father of your child, and the two of you would have a home somewhere.

“What happened to not having sex in the pool?”

“I said that when I thought this was a pond,” with his hands wrapped tight around your bum, he starts walking the two of you out of the pool, “Where are you going?”

“I am going to see if the door is unlocked.”

“This house?  Ran, you know they have this locked,” he is goofy.  Ransom was going to get the two of you arrested if he didn’t stop playing with fire.

“Would you humor me?  This is the place that you have dreamed at and dreamed of your whole life.  Let’s just check it out,” sitting you on the ground, he throws your clothes at you.  Laughing as the two of you struggle to put clothes on wet skin.  

Sneaking up to the front door, Ransom gives you the biggest smile when it opens.  It was immaculate.  Even with very little to no future, it was amazing.  A larger house than you dreamed, but it worked.  “I want to see the kitchen,” you run towards the direction you just knew had to be the kitchen, and spin around.  Opening up the empty cabinets and forgetting Ransom altogether.  

You feel like a kid.  Like someone had given you a magical paintbrush, and your imagination had cooked this up.  Leaning around the corner you check something out, before you see Ransom move quickly out of the corner of your eye, and you spin to  look at him, gasping.  Your boyfriend is down on the floor on one knee, holding up a box of the most beautiful ring.

“You know you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and I don’t want to wait anymore.  I asked your parents earlier today, they gave me their blessing, and…will you marry me?”

“You’re asking me in somebody else’s house though.”

“No, I’m not,” a hand goes to your mouth, and there was no stopping the tears, “This is ours.  Your sisters helped a lot by showing me how to use your Pinterest.  Bucky helped, too.  He’s got a house at the edge of the property.  Closer to the barn.  Harlan is waiting on your answer, because he has a buyer for the estate, and he said that you and him are not allowed to be separated.  Bunny, this is our home for our kids, and…I couldn’t keep you and stay in Boston, and I don’t care about that place, I care about you, and if you would please put me out of my misery, and let me hold you because I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“But they’re happy tears,” you wipe away the steady flow of tears that you just couldn’t stop.

“Answer my question, you crazy thing.”

“Yes!  Yes!  Ransom Drysdale, I will marry you tomorrow if that’s what you really want.  I just, oh,” your words are cut short as he crashes his lips against yours.  Struggling to grab your left hand, until you push him off, “Make it official, Ran,” Ransom slides the ring over your finger, and you give it a quick look before looking back at your fiancé.  Today was a perfect day.  “Wait, you included Bucky?”

“Do you think I know I can run a farm and ranch alone?  I didn’t even know what a ferrier is or that the cows need to have hoof trims, or the pigs, or even what a chicken run was.  Bucky is our ranch hand.  He’s going to be the boss, and the lead man.”

“Good, because I want you to work on your book more.”

“Ehh, I need to learn some things.”

Frank spotted that stupid pretty boy that you had brought here first.  Saw his ridiculously perfect hair as the two of you, and your oldest and youngest sister walk through the downtown area.  You were acting like a lovesick puppy dog.  Clinging to him, smiling up at him, and every chance you could, you would kiss him.  Like anyone wanted to see that.  It was sickening how you were completely consumed by him.  

How even your sisters would laugh at something that he said.  Frank hated Ransom.  What kind of name was Ransom?  And why did you bring him here?  Frank keeps his eyes on the man because he just knew Ransom was going to look at some other woman as she walks by, but currently nothing.  The only other women he looks at are your sisters.  But after a few seconds he was back to looking at you.

The two of you were stupid.  You had come to where Frank was, and he couldn’t get away from you two.  Wherever you were, Ransom was.  Until you and your sister’s walk into a store, and Ransom is left sitting on a bench outside of it, but his eyes stay on the store, and Frank sees why.  Lingerie.

This is Frank’s only chance to actually speak to the man without you being present.  Of course you would lie to make Ransom feel better.  You would do anything to keep yourself out of trouble.  Strutting over to the bench, Frank sits quickly, and Ransom doesn’t even look his way.  He is too happy to let Frank ruin it.  

“Women like Bunny aren’t easy to keep entertained,” Ransom slowly turns to look at Frank with a look of pure disdain.  “Trust me as someone who knows.  We had this great relationship, me and her.  I was even the one that gave her that nickname.  And then, just when I thought we were moving forward, she runs off and leaves me.  We had us a home, too.  Left me with all those bills.  Left the dog, and Clyde still hasn’t been the same.  I was left heartbroken, but I knew she was always going to come back.  But, I got nothing for her.”

“Ahh, so this is why you’re talking to me?  Because you’re completely over her, right?” Ransom asks with a cheeky grin that just irritates Frank even further.  If only Frank knew that you and your sisters were in there trying to find you the perfect bridal lingerie, and Ransom was not allowed to look.  Frank had no idea what he was talking about.

“It’s more of a warning.  Bunny takes.  Bleeds you dry, and just when you think she’s done, she comes back to scrape the remains off you.”

“Frank, you can say whatever you want, but I’m not running away from her.  And she’s not running away from me.  I can promise you that.  I’ve run away from everything in my life, but it won’t be her.  She’s…”

“Hmm, how long have the two of you even been together?”  Frank was digging, and Ransom could clearly see that.  Ransom did not trust this man.  He was obsessed with the fact that you left him.  Had he left you, Ransom knew Frank wouldn’t have even cared.

“Two years this Thanksgiving,” Ransom informs him proudly.  It was two glorious years, and it didn’t feel even close to a year.  The most unfortunate thing about being with you is that time moves too quickly.

“That’s all?  You’re still in the honeymoon phase.  Wait…two years ago, huh?  So right before she came home for a week?  Just how serious were the two of you?  Maybe you should ask her what she was doing on her week home.  Because while you were at home, she wasn’t alone,” Frank shrugs his shoulders, and leans forward, starting to get up, “Look, man, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know she was dating anyone.  Failed to mention you.  But, just thought I would let you know who you are dating.  Have a good day, Ransom.”

“You son of a bitch, Frank Adler!” Picking up a bean bag off the corn hole board, you hurl it at Frank, hitting him directly in the face.  Ignoring Steve’s chuckles, and chants to egg you on.

“Buns, you’re right on time, darling.  We were just about to start another round,” Frank gives the bag in his hand a little toss, missing the hold in front of him.

“What are you fucking playing at by talking to Ransom?” Picking up another beanbag, you throw it, but Frank catches it this time.

“Just telling your loser boyfriend what you were up to when you came home two years ago,” just like Frank to bend the truth.  Wanted to leave the most salacious parts in there, and miss the entire story all together.

“And what exactly was I up to?  Because I think I remember that night a bit differently than you do.  I recall you, Frank, cornering me in my parents barn, and fuckign begging me to take you back.  You started to kiss me, and…”

“First off,” Frank drops his bags, starting to walk closer to you, spotting a little glimmer from your hand, but he keeps his eyes only on your face, he was not ready to face that, “I didn’t beg.  And you kissed me back.”

“Wait, what was it that you said?  ‘Buns, I’m so sorry darling.  I was an idiot.  I didn’t mean to, but you know I can’t quit the rodeo completely.  I will do whatever it is you want, just give me one more chance.’  Your drunk ass started to kiss me, and I pushed you away.”

“Only because…” he stops himself, but if he wants to make an ass of himself, you are going to show everyone here just how much of an ass he really is.

“Oh, yeah, I left that part out.  You had your hand moving up under my dress.  And I pushed you away, and you fell on your ass.  I was just a piece of ass to you.  We tried, and we failed miserably, and now since I was the one that left you after you made that decision for us, you’re trying to ruin something good in my life.  Ransom is the best thing that ever happened to me.  So good in fact, he wasn’t even mad about what you told him.  He told me that we weren’t even serious or exclusive, and he wasn’t going to hold whatever happened between us over my head.  And I told him exactly what happened.  You better be glad that I came here instead of him.  He was ready to…”

“What?  Kick my ass?  Hehe, Bunny like that pretty boy could ever even touch me.  Why the hell is he even here, Bunny?  He doesn’t fit in here.”

“Get used to it.  We’re moving here, you jackass.  We…he built us a home, and I’m marrying that man,” you raise up your ring finger, showing Frank just how committed you are to Ransom.  “And…I hate you.  I hate you so much.  I have had the best time here, and you tried to ruin it.  It didn’t work.  He’s going to marry me and he…he’s going to be the best father to our baby, and you can kiss my ass.  You wanted to ruin something, and he is so pure and good.  And he will be the best husband to me, and you don’t even care.  You don’t care about my happiness or our baby’s you…you only care about you, and you left me!”

“You left me!” Frank seethes, clenching his fists on either side of his body.  Frank always remembered things differently.  Remembered the parts that made him look like the victim.

“I never even had you!  The rodeo had all of you, I got the scraps, and I told you.  I told you if you left I was done, and I was leaving.  You left.”

“You left without saying anything.  I thought we were happy.  You didn’t even give me signs that you were unhappy.”

“I gave you all the signs, you just didn’t listen!  You were trying to force a pregnancy on me,” it was the worst part about your relationship.  A time when you literally felt like a broodmare.  That you were nothing but the flesh between your legs, and the ability to provide him with a son.

“And you were lying to me about that.  About the morning after pills, and the birth control, you lied!”

“I was exhausted!  You never listened to what I wanted.  I wanted you!  And you wanted that damn rodeo.  You only wanted me pregnant so I would follow you around like a puppy.  And we weren’t ready for a baby.  I did both of us a favor.”

“What are you doing with him?  You can’t walk five steps without looking at him and kissing him.”

“You fucking psycho!  Why are you watching us?  He had a house built.  He’s moving here with me.  And he didn’t ask me to do anything.  We’re…we’re on the same page about this baby, and we both want this.”

Finally your words sink in with Frank.  This baby.  Your hands rub over your belly protectively, and a piece of Frank dies.  He always thought you would eventually come back.  And you did, but you didn’t come back for him.  “Wait…you’re pregnant right now?”

“You still don’t fucking listen, Frank.  Yes, I’m pregnant.  I just found out this morning with my fiance.  He stood behind me, holding my belly as we waited for the results, and we celebrated together, because unlike us, me and Ransom are a team.  We are partners.  And we both wanted this baby.”

“That’s not the order,” you had always told him; house, marriage, baby.  It now looked like you got a house, an engagement, baby.

“I made that order for you because I didn’t trust you.  I was never going to have you, and I have always had Ransom.  Please, leave us alone.  Let me be happy.”

“And what about me?”

“I tried, Frank.  I tried to make you happy, and then I moved on.  Ransom is…I’ve never loved anyone like I do him.  Be happy for me, or stay out of my fucking life.  Because whether you want to be happy for me or not, I’m going dress shopping this weekend.  We’re rushing the wedding, so…so our little peanut won’t be visible.  Please, Frank, let me go, and move on.  For both of us.  Because I’m never coming back.  Ransom is my future.  Goodbye, Frank.”

Spinning on your heels, you turn to walk away from the bar.  Followed by Bucky who leaves the game of corn hole, and even Steve glares at Frank, rubbing the back of his neck, “Man, that was shitty.”

“Yeah, coming to our bar and cussing me like that.”

“No, I was talking about you.  Bucky and I both told you that she was unhappy.  Bucky even told you what you needed to do.  You guys broke up, it happens.  But you telling Ransom something that didn’t exactly happen the way you said it did — what if he left Bunny, and she’s pregnant alone?  You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

“And what about you Mr. I need three girls to fuck me at once.”

“They know what they’re getting into.  I’m not trying to ruin someone’s relationship based on lies.  Frank, man, admit you were wrong with this.  Bunny is happy.  Let her be happy.  Let her enjoy her life in that stupid big house with her stupid pretty boy fiancé.  Bunny has always deserved the world, and even you said that.  That man is giving her the world.  Why do you think he had that house built on Sowers Road?” Frank shrugs his shoulders, staring blankly at the ground.

“Did you ever listen to her?  I wasn’t sleeping with her, and I know what significance that location is to her.  Frank, just apologize and move on.  There’s other women.  Bunny’s gone.  She’s pregnant with another man, she’s getting married, and they got a home.  It’s done, man.  You’re going to make it worse for you, not her, if you keep doing this.  I’m out.  I’m going home,” he drops his bags, and struts to his truck.  Thinking to himself it might be time for him to leave the rodeo.  But then again, it might just be time for him to continue sowing those wild oats.

One thing Steve knew for sure, Frank is a bitter man, and that bitterness was changing him.  He never thought Frank would be so low as to try and make Ransom break up with you.  Thankfully Ransom is a better man than Frank.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @patzammit​ @lavender-annd-lilac​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @slowdownbeforeyouregretit​ @elrw24​

[dira333]

A little boring isn't all that bad

Scotty x Reader

Request: “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott has worked with many people through the years. He’s had his fair share of boneheads, may it be teachers that wouldn’t believe in him or his ideas or subordinates who liked to doubt every single one of his decisions.

He’s worked with lots of people. Some of them he liked and some of them he even fancied and when he meets you for the first time, it’s not that special, at least he’d like to think of it that way.

You’re one of hundreds of newbies that have stepped out of the academy and onto their respective Ships. You’re smart, but that’s no surprise. You wouldn’t be on the Enterprise of all ships if it were different. And Scotty likes to make sure that he doesn’t have to work with more boneheads than necessary as long as he is the Chief Engineer.

What makes you stand out from the others, perhaps, is the smile edged on your face as you walk through the hallways. It’s bright and inviting and as you talk to one of your peers, he can see that it’s infective.

Maybe you like new beginnings.

Two months into their mission and three extremely annoying and nerve wracking training courses with the newbies later he realizes that your smile is a permanent feature.

He’s seen you jump out of your room in the middle of the gamma shift for a night training - you had smiled at him, hair disheveled, wearing your shirt the wrong way.

He’s seen you wobble down the catwalk with a hand pressed to a deep cut on your arm. The smile is there, shaky maybe, but still edged onto your lips.

And he can’t help to be intrigued.

But he’s the Chief Engineer and he tries not to pry into the lives of the ones that work under him. He’s never liked it when people tried to do that with him either.

It’s not until five months into their mission that he learns one important clue.

.

It’s time for a shore leave. Everyone is buzzing with excitement and as he walks down the catwalk for a last check-up, he runs into you.

The smile on your face has light up, something he hasn’t even thought to be possible. You’re practically beaming right now.

“Excited to go on a break?” He asks and your head bobs up and down as you nod.

“I’m meeting up with my significant other,” you ramble as you walk alongside him, “Haven’t seen him in months. Are you meeting family too? I’ve heard Dr. McCoy’s meeting some closer family members. Apparently he’s almost happy today.”

He listens to you talk and feels the weight of disappointment settle in his guts, surprising him with how much he must have hoped for a chance with you.

He forces himself to make small talk with you, ask you questions, smiles at you. He doesn’t want you to notice anything. It’s not your fault that he’s managed to develop a crush on you.

He can only hope that your partner knows how lucky they are to be the one who sets a smile like that on your lips.

.

He makes it his mission to not spend his break in misery.

He goes out with Keenser and drinks until he no longer cares about the brightness of your smile.

But the next day when he walks out of the little apartment they’ve given him during shore leave, he walks into you. And your smile is gone.

Your eyes are red, your face is pale and your lips are stretched into a wobbly line as if you might start to cry again.

And he knows that not even the shower he’s had has taken away all of last nights smell, that his hair looks like he’s been standing too close to an explosion and his shirt is wrinkled at best, but he can’t just let you walk away when you’re looking like this.

“Hey,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and faces the insecurity in your wide eyes, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You break out in tears instead and he holds you in the small, unlit hallway as you sob, unable to speak.

.

And later, when he’s managed to get you to eat and drink something - fruits and a cup of tea, even though he would have liked something stronger instead - you start to speak, unable to stop.

It all ends in a broken relationship, a broken promise, a broken trust. And tears. Lots and lots of tears.

He lets out a breath that sounds more like a heavy sigh.

“I’ll punch him in the face,” he declares and it doesn’t matter that the person of question is a highly trained security officer, he’s still pretty handy when he wants to be.

You laugh. It’s short and a little bit strained, but it’s the first step back to that bright smile on your face.

“You can’t punch him in the face.”

“But are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?”

“Yes.”

“What if I just break his nose a little?”

You laugh again, louder this time and you stretch out one hand and rest it on his shoulder and he would be lying if this simple touch didn’t mean the world to him.

“No, Mr. Scott, you can’t even break his nose a little.”

“That is boring,” he tells you with a smile that you reciprocate.

And maybe it is boring, how you sit in his room in shared silence for a while, how you move on to spend your shore leave in that same shared sense of quiet comfiness, but he’s happy and as he sees that smile on your face grow and light up again, he knows you’re happy too.

How foolish of him to think that any other person but you yourself could put that smile on your face.

But as shore leave ends and everyone moves to get back on the ship, your paths cross more often than they used to.

And when your hand slips into his one day and he feels your smile on his lips, he thinks, that maybe, just maybe, a little bit boring isn’t all that bad.

[afterdarkprincess]

A Moment Backstage

Relationship: Sami/Jey Rating: Gen Summary: Sami and Jey share an interaction backstage before the Tag Title Rematch (set during Nov 13th 2023 Monday Night Raw) -- Did I have several other things to write? yes but this just would not leave me alone, so here we are.

tags for @feelschicken, @imabillyami @southerngirl41 @elementaldoughnut12 @harmshake and @jeysbvck (if anyone else would like to be tagged or I forgot someone let me know!)

AO3 Link

---

Jey paces backstage, headphones over his ears blasting music as he pumps himself up for the tag match. What ifs and worries plague his mind and he’s restless about not just the tag team rematch tonight but the Wargames match ahead of them.

Finn and Damien had been trying to eg them on earlier, Sami was right about that, but all the things they said had been true, especially about him. Jey has betrayed every single one of his current team members in the name of his cousin and his family.

He’s been plagued by this issue ever since his return and debut on Monday Night Raw, the mistakes of his past refusing to leave him be. All the things he’d never really wanted to do that Roman had made him do anyway.

His mind flashes to Elimination Chamber, the clip they’d showed last week of him with a chair in hand, tears dripping from his eyes and falling onto the mat as Roman screamed at him. In the end he couldn’t do it, couldn’t take the chair to Sami in the same way he’d done to KO. But he wasn’t brave enough to put the chair in Roman’s back either. A failure on both accounts.

Sami had waved it off, said it was all in the past now, but sometimes when Jey looks at him all he sees are those moments. Flowers strewn across the ring from the tattered lei, red like blood against the canvas as Sami turns to him with tears in his eyes. Watching his brothers attack Sami as if the last year never happened.

Jey wipes a hand over his eyes as if that will wash the painful memories away, thinks about retrieving his water bottle from wherever he’s left it this time, trying to get back out of his head. Sami appears in the locker room before him, the soft smile on his face a hard contrast to the anguish in his memories.

“Hey, my dawg!” Sami says cheerfully, “Just wanted to-oh!”

Jey cuts him off by pulling him in for a tight hug and not letting go. The waves of emotion that had swelled since the top of the show threatening to overtake him as he clutched Sami to him.

“M’sorry, Uce. I’m sorry-“ Jey mumbles into the crook of Sami’s shoulder, keeping his face hidden for what it might show. “Never wanted t’hurt you.”

Sami’s arms wrap around to hold Jey just as tightly, and the ginger laughs nervously. “Hey, hey now- s’okay Jey. What’s this about?” His hands press against Jey’s shoulders to make some space between them but they stay there as to not let him get away.

Jey sniffles and rubs a hand on his face, trying to be discreet as he wipes the tears away. “I dunno, Uce, just thinkin’” He shakes his head. “‘Bout what those guys was sayin’ earlier. I did a lot of messed up shit, and like Cody n’ I talked it out right? And the stuff wit’ Seth is whatever, don’ really care what that guy thinks…”

“They were trying to mess with us, Jey. Don’t let them get in your head.” Sami’s face is soft, and the understanding look in his eyes is doing nothing to assuage Jey’s guilt.

“Sami, I messed up wit’ you. Big time.” Jey struggles to find words. “I was- nah you was the best thing that ever happened to me, Uce. Me n’ Jimmy was champs but being Roman’s pawn was eatin’ at me and I wasn’t good. M’not gonna apologize again for how I was actin’ before Wargames cause I know you ain’t gonna hear it, we past that. But Elimination Chamber? And all those months before Wrestlemania?” Jey hung his head in shame.

One of Sami’s hands moves to the nape of Jey’s neck and it’s all he can do not to lean into the warm touch. “Jey, I don’t blame you for that. You were in a tough spot, you were protecting Jimmy, I understand.”

He doesn’t and it hurts. “You don’ know, Sami. How hard that was. Seein’ you with KO, and feelin’ like I should hate you but I couldn’t cause you was right. And that night that I came back? I wanted to pick you so bad, Uce. I just- I couldn’t.” Jey lifts his head again to meet Sami’s eyes. “I just- I’m sorry.”

Sami’s face is unreadable, and he takes a moment to respond.

“I forgive you,” He finally responds. “I forgive you and I’m sorry too. I didn’t make that easy, I mean everybody told me I should leave you alone and I just couldn’t.” Sami bites his lip.

Jey feels the weight he’s been carrying for all these months fall off his shoulders. “You never gave up on me.”

Sami pulls Jey back into his arms and claps him on the back. “Never, my dawg.”

Jey stares as Sami releases him, the swirl of emotions in his head clouding his judgement as his gaze falls from Sami’s eyes to the flushed pink of his chapped lips. And for a moment he lets himself think about how good those lips would feel against his own.

He shakes the thought away, unwilling to jeopardize the progress he’s made tonight. “Me n’ Cody gonna kick Judgement Days asses but… I’d feel better knowin’ you’d have my back.”

“Even though I can’t be out there tonight, I always got your back, Jey.”

For a second Jey thought he caught Sami’s eyes dropping to his lips and his heart leapt but that same second Cody appears in the doorway.

“Ey Uce, it’s go time.”

Sami coughs and takes a step back. “I uh- I gotta head out,” He touches Jey’s chest playfully. “You’re gonna do great.”

The action, one both of them had done countless times, is charged with energy.

“See you after?” He keeps his voice neutral as he steps backwards toward Cody.

Sami nods, “We’ll celebrate with waffles!”

Jey walks out the door and follows Cody down the corridor towards gorilla.

“You ready for this?”

Jey nods, and for the first time all evening, he believes it.

-----

Thank you for reading! :) I'm gonna work on my other WIPs now and not start new ones (she said, like a liar)

[canichangemyblogname]

It’s so fucking wild how weird people act about not voting for incumbents. Y’all gotta stop uncritically calling people fascist for not voting for incumbents. Try voting for the candidate based in what they do for you rather than blind party loyalty.

An Example:

My local state rep is a dem. She has a 100% score from Personal PAC and the Illinois Environmental Council. She also has an F rating from the NRA and an A rating from the Humane Society. She also has an A/100% from the Institute on Public Policy for People with Disabilities. I like what she does. I like the bills she supports and has introduced. I like the way I ALWAYS see her in the community. I like how she makes an effort to reach out. I will vote for her. Why? Because I like what she does.

I do not, however, like my local mayor/president. I think he’s a tool. He doesn’t want to build affordable housing in the area because he doesn’t want “Chicago riff-raff” in his town (hi 👋, I’m riff-raff). He passed an ordinance that made it illegal/fineable to run a business out of your home just to spite his neighbor. He doesn’t want to bring more businesses into our town/neighborhood because he essentially wants to turn it into one large single family housing development. He’s been actively driving business out of town. I dislike him very much. I have never voted for him.

Every year, he runs unopposed and scrapes by with just barely enough % of votes to qualify. And every year the community tries to run someone against him and they just can’t outspend him. Nor can the candidate keep up (like… a school teacher or SAHM will try to run or something and just face too many barriers to entry).

Yet… no one talks about the implications of wide-spread uncontested elections for democracy. Upwards of 70% of races go uncontested in the US. It’s as serious an issue as a lack of voter engagement. And no one really talks about this because no one wants to admit that the US is only a democracy on paper (if that). Without choice, true choice, you do not have a democracy, and most districts lack choice and true choice (think: gerrymandering and its illusion of choice).

Every year I abstain. And he scrapes by with— like— just over that threshold % of the vote. However, when I have mentioned this on the internet (TikTok, Twitter, FB), some chronically online fool will invariably accuse me of supporting fascism by abstaining. And that makes ZERO sense.

Another Example:

I also am not a big fan of my congress member. He’s taken $$ from Islamophobic nationalist groups. (Yes, he’s a democrat.) He did not oppose a rail merger that is now bringing 5 mi long oil freights straight through the middle of my town, right along our river (which is also our drinking water). I never see him in the community, except parades. The only thing he’s done that I support is bring $$ into the district to clean up our waterways (ironic, I know). But the thing is? Nearly any politician can do that for you, if you lobby and press them with a large and varied coalition. He’s not special for getting us money when he can be replaced and we can get some other dude to give us money instead. He’s not special. He’s just an incumbent.

But when I tell people I vote 3rd party (if and when available) for that race because he always wins his primary (usually uncontested) and there’s no way I’m voting for a Republican, people cannot be normal about it. They act like I voted for the reactionary and right-wing Republican candidate rather than actively voting for the candidate of my choice and a passively non-voting for neither the Dem or the Repub.

“But if the third party splits enough of the progressive vote, the Republican is bound to win.”

A third party progressive vote isn’t splitting the progressive vote. The progressives and socialists have been voting for the progressive/socialist candidates (and have for a while) while the moderates and conservatives have often been voting for the Dems, and the fascists and reactionaries have been voting for the Republicans.

Like… this man has never enjoyed my vote. I campaigned for his primary opponent last year. What do you mean ‘splitting’ when he never received that vote?

There are so many races where the third party candidate— usually Green or Independent (former Dem)— gets more votes than the Republican. Explain to me how a Republican with no more than *checks notes* 15% of the vote is going to win in those districts? They never even get enough to meet the threshold % of votes to hold office. If a 3rd party is “splitting votes” as you claim, that isn’t paving the way for the “other party” to win, its paving the way for (drumroll) *none* of the candidates to meet the first-past-the-post threshold.

This fear of not voting for the incumbents is… strange. You’re allowed to change your mind and threaten them with your vote and campaign against them. In fact, you should be. Be more politically active. Openly criticize your elected officials. Be loud. Be demanding. Campaign. Run. Fuck, upwards of 70% of elections go uncontested.

This fear lacks an on-the-ground nuance of how our political system is changing.

The republicans are an increasingly niche (and aging) authoritarian-right party desperately trying to hold on to relevancy and power through undemocratic means.

The democrats have far too large a coalition as they cover everyone from right to left, which have wildly different demands, desires, values, and ideologies, resulting in a party that most often seems spineless at worse and anemic at best.

Everyone left of center has been left without the same broad, mainstream representation that the right of the political spectrum has in the US.

There very well may come a time when the Republican Party fades into obscurity (if they don’t seize power via undemocratic means), the Democratic Party splinters (with conservatives following the Biden ideology), and a new progressive movement emerges.

This fear is also based on the idea every district is competitive up and down the ballot. Most races are not competitive. Keep in mind that 70% statistic. Also keep in mind that in 2020, 373 of the 394 House members who ran for reelection won (that’s 95%). Your fear of not voting for or of campaigning against an incumbent is based on the assumption that every district will flip Dem to Repub; that this is an either/or decision and a black-n-white system. Your assumption ignores gerrymandering, it ignores the incumbent advantage, it ignores that 70% stat, and it ignores how the second most competitive party in “partisan” districts— specifically, in smaller districts and local elections— is often a 3rd party. In those “stronghold” areas, the only competition (and thus the element keeping democracy alive in that race) is often an independent or 3rd party candidate. The “other party” (Dem or Repub) won’t even acquire enough votes to meet the threshold to take office.

Statistically, you aren’t talking to someone in a competitive district. Like… a grand total of 99 house seats (22%) were competitive in 2022.

But— shit— let’s say that a district hypothetically elects a 3rd party candidate successfully. I want you to really, critically think about their platform. I want you to think about the active 3rd parties. There are— like— 2x the number of left-wing 3rd parties as right-wing. Ask yourself: would a right-wing party truly win in a “blue stronghold”? And do you really think a fucking socialist or a green or a progressive is a Republican ally? No, you don’t. Yet here you are on your high horse telling predominately black and brown socialists that they’re signing their own death certificates by voting for an independent for Sheriff instead of the only other choice they have: some crusty Republican with a thin blue line flag and the tag “All Lives Matter” on his campaign Facebook page.

Your fear of 3rd parties is based on propaganda and the fact that, since you were a child, everyone told you that voting 3rd is acquiescence because they never have a chance at legitimacy. And I want you to critically ask yourself: how in the hell did the Democratic and Republican Party emerge in the first place? Thin air? Magic? Why aren’t we still electing Federalists and Whigs?

[bl00dsuccker]

more than me? - e-1610!miles

i kinda don’t like this one 😭

writing one for e-42!miles because i can’t not write about him

was this inspired by a eruri (erwin x levi) tik tok sound?

no 😁 ok maybe…

this is a miles x my spidersona blurb! my spidersona does go by she/they pronouns so i do switch between the two. and ofc they’re black 🤷🏽‍♀️

atsv divider by @//saradika

“ouch!” miles hissed as xavier pressed alcohol onto miles’ wounds.

“sorry,” xavier mumbled under their breath as they threw away the bloody cotton ball into the trash with other bloody cotton balls. “all done.” she gave a small smile to the boy currently lying down on her bed.

“thank you, xavi.” miles smiled back as he rested his hand on her cheek.

usually, xavier’s heart would’ve fluttered at the simple touch of her boyfriend’s hand, but today? she had too much to think about. xavier gently grabbed her boyfriend’s hand & set it down on his lap and got up from him, going to find some spare clothes for him to wear that he’d left over there one day.

miles immediately knew something was wrong. the look on xavier’s face the entire time, wasn’t the same worried look they would always give to miles whenever he came swinging through their window to get bandaged up or to simply just stay with them. this look it was…something else entirely, and it chilled miles to the bone.

“x? what’s wrong?” miles asked sitting up, wincing silently.

“nothing. here.” xavier threw the boy a random graphic tee and some sweatpants.

miles caught the clothes but put them beside him on the bed.

“come here, xavi.”

xavier sighed before making their way over to miles. they stood in between miles legs and miles wrapped his arms around their stomach & looked up at them.

“what’s wrong baby?” he asked, looking up at them.

xavier sighed. she didn’t want to ask him the burning question on her mind. she already thought she was being quite selfish by even thinking of such a ridiculous question.

“just…does being spider-man mean more to you than your own safety?” xavier muttered.

if it wasn’t for miles’ super hearing, he wouldn’t have even heard her.

“well, being spider-man means that brooklyn stays safe, so if i get a couple of bruises and scratches, it’s nothing. as long as the city is safe.” miles responded.

of course miles morales would say something like that.

“ok but what about your safety? sure, the city will be safe but what about you?”

“i’ll be fine xav-“

“miles. this—“ xavier pointed to the multiple scratches and bruises on his body, “—is not fine. when you’re spiderman, you don’t get to be “fine”, because every single super villian is on your ass. you’re not fine keeping the biggest secret ever away from any family member. this whole situation is not fine.”

miles sighed. xavier unfortunately did have a point. but he wouldn’t let them know that. 

“it’s apart of the job. i’m not gonna come home after every fight looking pretty. you know how it is.” miles responded back with a little sass in his tone as he slid his hands to the side of xavier’s thighs.

“i didn’t say you would, but these injuries are becoming more and more frequent and it’s worrying me—“

“you don’t need to be worried, i can handle myself.”

xavier blinked dumbly at miles and stepped away from him, causing his hands to fall to his lap.

“don’t-don’t worry about you?” she stared at him dumbfounded. “ok, put yourself in my shoes. how would you feel if i came into your room every night with cuts and bruises, the likes of which you’ve never seen? would you be fine with me telling you ‘not to worry’?!”

“of course not-“

“then don’t tell me not to worry about you!” xavier exclaimed.

miles just stared at them, questions now floating around in his mind, like about where all of this was coming from and was there a point.

“where is this all coming from?” he asked.

“does being spider-man mean more to you than your parents seeing their son in a hospital bed or-or a casket, or me having to drag you to said hospital?” xavier blurted out.

everytime miles came through xavier’s window with more and more bruises & scratches, it made her worry more and more and it made question many things, which she thought herself selfish for. he was in pain and here she was, questioning whether or not behind being spider-man meant more to him than she did.

“i know what being spiderman does to people. i know what it costs. i just…don’t wanna lose you.” xavier mumbled.

“so you want me to stop being spider-man?” miles accused.

“no, that’s not what i’m—shit. maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. i know im selfish for even thinking such a thing but when you are the person you are and i’m the person i am…it’s hard not to think like that.” xavier said.

they sat there in silence. so many questions and so much tension ran through in the small little combined bedroom.

xavier felt bad for even mentioning what they had said. they felt bad.

miles was trying to process what they had said, he didn’t know how to feel as of right now.

“does being spider-man mean more than me?”

if they’re laying out everything on the table, might as well lay it all out.

miles stared at xavier, dumbfounded.

what?

miles had never sat down and leveled who was above his spider powers and who wasn’t. he didn’t think he had to. now that the question was in front in him, he didn’t know how to respond or react to it.

fuck.

the more silent he stayed, the more xavier wasn’t so confident in the answer she thought he would give.

“miles. it’s a yes or no question. does being spiderman-“

“i don’t know.”

there it was.

xavier could feel her heart break into a thousand tiny pieces. she knew she was selfish enough to ask was the safety of brooklyn more important than her but still…she wanted him to say no.

“then what are we standing here for?” xavier deadpanned.

“what are you saying?” he asked, ignoring how shaky he felt and how he could feel how all of his wounds felt at once.

“i think we both know what i’m saying, miles. if being spiderman means more to you then…go be spiderman. go save brooklyn.”

and miles heard his heart break into a billion thousand tiny pieces

©️ BLOODSUCCKER 2023

[primalinfinity]

5! 7! 9!

HI!

5. What inspires you to write?

I live by the creed "Write what you would want to read.", and there are so many story ideas I'd love to see take shape in every genre under the sun. So, I create them and fill those lil niches in my own tastes.

I love creating worlds different from our own, making them real, exploring them...yeah. I write the things I want to read and embrace. :)

That's what inspires me.

7. Create a character on the spot...NOW!

Aight, bet! But I'm going to use my own fictional world here, so...prepare for some terms none of you will know the context of;

Phoebe Reed had just been a simple student at the School Of Glass in the city of Kalosana, reaching her Third Chain as a healer and having been content with a future career at the hospital treating the wide range of ailments that are common in a coastal city-state.

But, the Third Mage War changed everything, and the young healer found herself on the front lines of a conflict where her home seemed willing to tear itself apart.

And she watched as Kalosana was left to rot, suffering massive casualties as their longest term ally abandoned them to massacre.

Surviving the war and returning home, with no family left and most of her friends dead, Phoebe found herself drawn in by the powerful rhetoric of the war hero Lush. Talk of revolution. Of rebelling against the edicts forbidding the students of Glass from learning combat magic.

Now she practices the ancient and forbidden magics in secret, embittered and resentful, and readying herself for the oncoming revolution.

9. A passage from a WIP!

Okay! Here ya go;

“That’s...fair. I’m sorry. I passed out.” Sighing, Yang pressed a kiss to Blake’s forehead, getting a reassured hum in response. “Thanks for not killing me.”

“I considered it, but Ruby and I can’t pay rent alone, and you’re just so much prettier than any of the other options in the regiment.” Blake gave a smirk before rising up and pressing her lips to Yang’s in a good morning kiss.

Grinning, Yang didn’t hesitate before scooping Blake up in her arms and kissing her with a loving smile.

Meanwhile Ruby had stepped and turned away so that she didn’t have to see or hear the encounter happening behind her, and watched as three of her comrades trained in the yard in a free-for-all. Crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the wooden stairs that led up, Ruby had a small frown of concentration on her face as she studied the way the three fighters moved, their footwork smooth and well-trained.

There wasn’t a single poor fighter in their order, you had to reach a certain standard for the King to notice you enough to name you to the ranks in the first place, with most members being pre-existing veterans from a military that had seen far too much action in recent years. Even Ruby and Yang had done their service for king and country despite their young ages, the most recent war against Mistral four years ago having gotten the army desperate enough to take anyone willing to pick up a sword.

Even two girls, both still in their teens at the time with Yang at eighteen and Ruby at sixteen, without more than a purse of ten coppers and their old farm horse to their name. Yang had known how to throw a punch, since growing up the tallest girl in a village dominated by boys had been a firm teacher, but fists won’t do much against musket and cannon.

But they’d learned."

[exlwandering]

Celica and Lemal part two

I've had this written for weeks honestly but I just haven't put it on here. Probably gonna post the other bits I've written/ am writing in just a bit so, if you're there, enjoy! <3

—Celica—

I wake up softly and slowly, the first sensation of the day being something being pressed against my chest and moving from side to side. It’s warm. 

I open my eyes slowly and first see the incredibly tall ceiling, looking a little closer because there's basically a cone shaped hole in the ceiling that goes at least a story high. It strikes me as odd. I’ll have to ask about that later. Maybe. 

The second thing I see is Lemal’s beak right against my chest. 

“Oh- What the fuck!”

He flinches backward but his eyes stay on me, and (much more concerningly) his beak and head stays more or less in place. 

For several seconds I am completely quiet, my heart leaping out of my chest almost literally. I can feel it pulse right through me and push against his skin. When he notices he closes his eyes and nuzzles deeper into me. His hands are on my thighs and he taps my thigh at the pace of my heart. It’s unnerving to say the least, knowing that he knows exactly how much just his presence scares me. 

After a moment, when the thought strikes me that he could fall asleep on me i finally speak up.

“That’s…” He opens his eyes, “King Lemal, please-” He sits up, only he has a disapproving expression on his face. Or more, playfully disapproving, like I broke a small rule. 

“So… Just Lemal?”

He nods with a small smile on his face. 

“Alright then good to know…” I begin to inch my way from under him, he still is completely over me, he’s just not literally laying on me. When I get past his knee he gives me another playful look. 

“Oh! Well, now that I’m awake, I figured I might as well get dressed.”

He gives a thoughtful nod. Then he points to the door before scooping me up and walking out of the room altogether. 

“Uh- Wait, my clothes are back in the room! I thought you were fine with me getting dressed?” 

He looks at me for a moment but then looks right back up without even a hint of an answer. 

“Okay…” I mutter, watching as he walks over to another man, he stands tall (But not as tall as Lemal) and looks bored, ready to start the day it seems. He’s dressed very formally (but with a clear style to him) and he holds a clip board covered in names, beside each are numbers (maybe room numbers?) and then, oddly enough random descriptors such as: cotton rose’s, velvet flowers, morning dew, sugar, mint, and even some woody type descriptions. 

After a moment he puts his hand out to me but quickly retracts it, replacing it with a deep bow. 

“Oh you don't have to do that sir, please stand!.”

He looks down at me, then Lemal, and then slowly stands to his full height before putting both of his hands out, his full attention back to Lemal. He quickly hands me to him, pats him on the shoulder, and then starts down the hall. 

“Umm…” 

When he is finally out of sight for several seconds the man gently places me on the ground and turns his attention to his clipboard again, but only for a moment. He then hands me a paper that reads: “Good morning your majesty, congratulations on your marriage. Many celebrations. I am Ramey, the main caregiver for the royal family and all that are of value to them. (I take care of baths, and general grooming regarding the royal family, court members and extended family/visitors.) P.S. Whenever I can help it I will let you walk by yourself if that is what you wish despite my master King Lemals wishes, you deserve to be allowed to walk yourself.”

“Oh, thank you Ramey sir.” I pass the paper back to him and he nods no to me. “Can I not call you sir?” He nods no again. “Oh, I am sorry Ramey, I won't repeat my… Mistake.” I stand there awkwardly in the silence. Then he nods to the corridor before walking down the hall. 

It takes a lot to keep up with him, he walks this way like he has every single day. (he probably has since he was little thinking about it) He knows the curves of the halls and walks to fast I have to stay on all four to keep pace, but I am grateful to be able to walk myself despite the grueling pace. (Maybe one day ill get used to it? Maybe if I'm lucky this’ll be the worst of it.) 

Finally at the end of the final hall, when I am thoroughly exhausted from the trek, Ramey stops in front of the bathroom from yesterday. 

Oh, Hell No. 

I look up at Ramey with a pleading look but he’s not looking down, instead he looks at the woman coming down the hall. The NDM woman. 

She finally gets right up to us and as she reaches for me she quickly stops short and places her hands on her hips, Ramey is pointing at his pocket watch and pushing into her clearly reprimanding her while she stands looking almost bored and nearly unaffected. That is until he says something I can't hear and her eyes widen and she starts shouting back at him. (It is important to remember that I can’t hear any of this, but here's what i’ve deciphered: NDM woman was late to her work, her boss Ramey is very upset at her and is probably going on about the importance of punctuality and that she has no excuses and then he brought *something* up that pushed her too far for her comfort. Ya’know, she seems much too comfortable just dismissing him. He’s the main caregiver so that must hold some weight against her but she doesn't seem to care at all, something about him is disposable in her eyes. And now I wanna know what. Is it why he wouldn’t let me call him sir? I’ll have to see if I can find some answers later.)  

Finally she stops shouting (?) at him and closes her beak before trying to peck him like she did the girl yesterday, but instead of just taking it he grABS HER BY THE BEAK BEFORE PUSHING HER BACKWARDS. I should add, gently though, she doesn't hit the wall, but she gives him the darkest glare I’ve ever seen before grabbing me by the hair and practically running into the concealed bathroom. 

She slams me into the barely filled tub, the water still freezing. (the worst staple of this part but it's better than it being scalding. More bearable, at least there’s that.) The lady who is filling the tubs jumps back at my sudden intrusion and quickly reaches for me but the woman just stairs her down. She puts me down again but sits me up this time. 

The NDM woman walks over to me, her sleeves rolled up over her elbows and she begins to work on undressing me. When she pulls off my night dress she squeezes my shoulder so tightly she likely sprained it. She shakes me for a moment and when I just look at her she hits the back of my head. 

Once again she peels the wet clothes off of me and once again several women go about scrubbing my fur as hard as they can to turn me into a bubble. They rip me out of the tub and I’m handed to the woman who dried me yesterday, who also cleaned my eyes, cleaned the oils, and saved me from my corset prison. When it is mostly just the two of us together i give her a quick, “Thank you for yesterday ma’am.” She just gives me a gentle nod and pats my head before gently drying me some more. 

“Do you write? I can’t talk to you otherwise. Or more so you can’t talk back.”

She takes a moment before nodding no.

“Oh… well is it alright if I talk to you? Even if I can't hear the response?”

She nods with a smile before moving onto my face. For the next few minutes I just talk quietly about anything that comes to mind. Namely one of my younger sisters and how she’s likely got a career as a painter ahead of her. How proud I am. She has to dry my face a second time. 

Eventually I go back into the dressing room where I'm stuffed into another small bra, underwear, and corset. 

“Is this part really necessary for just a leisurely day? I don’t think we're doing anything.” 

The woman gives me a look before picking up a piece of chalk and writing on, what I thought was a dark green wall but is actually a chalkboard. 

She writes: “Girl, believe it or not, this is your life now. Corsets and dresses and parties and being our king's pet. This is proper, and this is your life. Don’t ask to not wear it again. Learn your place now or never, it doesn't change the outcome, it only hurries it along.” 

“Alright…” i sit there defeated for a while, she silently picks out another dress. “...Can I ask how your head is doing?” She gives me an angry look. “Just… Not to mock you but. Ya know- It was bleeding a lot yesterday...” She continues to glare at me and grabs the chalk again while still looking at me.

“Believe it or not I can handle myself. Relua is tough but I’m tougher. Now never bring this up again, especially out loud, your whisper sounds like a shout.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

She quickly erased the black board before anyone else could see it. Then she turned and found a light blue dress that looked a little too big for me, but this too seems like it’s going to be a recurring theme.

The NDM woman (or Relua if I am to speak her real name and not summon the beast) has now dragged me to the dining room where she sat me down at the table and took post at the door. My eyes followed her and when I could pretend that she wasn’t there anymore I slumped back in my seat as best I could, which was difficult with the back breaker on me.

After several long minutes Lemal finally walked into the room with a towel around his neck and his feathers looking freshly shined, along with those claws. Speaking of which, he’s holding my diary. 

He sits down across from me but my eyes don’t meet his, they stay steady on that stupid book. Why the everloving hell did I bring that thing!! The amount  of personal accounts in there talking specifically about how much I didn’t want to be here!!!  How i didnt wanna meet him! He might kill me for that alone! FUCK! 

He smiles gently gesturing at the book. I think he’s talking to me but he has to know I can’t hear him, so many others don't… I don’t know, maybe he really doesn't know or maybe he’s just playing with me.

He gives me a sly look before beginning to open my diary to its first page.

“Oh wait! I would really prefer you didn’t read that!” He looks up at me surprised, “You know, it being so personal and all!”

He nods slowly and then gently places it down on the table, sliding it to me. I grab it and place it in my lap, breathing a sigh of relief in response. 

“Thank you… Lemal.”

He smiles as his breakfast is placed in front of him. Meat again. I just look at it in disgust. 

My food is then placed in front of me, meat as well. Only a little different, rice at the bottom of the bowl with veg pieces around the meat. 

“Can I just…” I pick up the meat part of my meal, cringing at the texture, and place it in his bowl. “There we go. Is… That alright with you?”

He looks at me, slowly nodding.

“I- I can't eat meat. That’s not what prey does. We don’t like it and we literally can’t digest it. Not without getting very sick,” I explain. 

He nods in understanding then begins to eat his own meal. I follow suit. 

For a while we just eat in silence. He not only finishes his bowl before me, but calls someone over to get him even more. His eating itself also unnerves me. He either picks up each bite with his hands, placing it in his beck, or with the beck itself, throwing it further back into his mouth with each movement. It’s a relief when he finishes the meat and moves onto his bread, the crust crackling in his mha. Every few bites he opens his mouth just enough to see all the way through to his throat. Deep dark red in color, with a sharp yet short tongue. But what scares me are the teeth. Birds don’t have teeth. Whether they’re predators or prey, it’s just something they don’t have, and yet. 

The teeth themselves are canine molars. Four points on each tooth, eleven in total. Six teeth on the left side and five on the other. He probably lost it when he was young. 

I didn’t want to eat much, what with my small appetite and the queasy feeling in my stomach. But I made myself. I made myself eat each and every bite in that massive bowl of rice and greens. Only because today I was gonna start my newest building project. The predators of the west; the Shatoo, they have their bodies to help them with everything a hunter could need. Strong lungs, hollow bones to carry them, wings to hold them, thin bodies to help them move fast, and a sharp straight beck to cut through the air as well as flesh and bone. But they are not the only ones with natural advantages. Every species has something. And I have the hands and legs my goddess blessed me with. Today, I’m gonna fucking dig. 

—Lemal—

I woke up before she did. I always tend to wake up at the same time, given how Ramey will walk into a room and begin to groom you before you’ve even opened your eyes and all. This room doesn't have windows, I realize looking around it. I can hear the birds singing from far away, muffled through the dozens of walls they fight through to get to me. I look around for a moment, remembering where I am. I sit up, looking at the bed and smelling her before actually seeing her. Again with that soft earthy smell. I turn to look at her and she’s on her side, facing me. Her soft nose twitching in her sleep, paws opening and closing rapidly. I take a moment to just look at her again. 

I can’t help myself when I crawl over her, just to get a more clear look. Her dress, which is much more like a shirt to be honest, has ridden up to her stomach in her sleep, and while she rests, when I look at her bum a small cotton tail sticks out and twitches almost in unison with her nose. 

“Well what do we have here?” I whisper. Despite myself I go to reach for her tail and lightly pinch it, giggling at how soft it is, like a little boy. 

She breaths in harshly and nearly rouses, her eyes smushing themselves closed, her face scrunching up. 

“Okay so no doing that any more, duly noted.”

She then rolls onto her back finally relaxing her face again. Her hand is by her head and her legs are open and bent. I take a moment to wonder something, would she wake up if I-? 

I lower myself over her, laying almost all the way down before lightly placing my head on her stomach and my beak on her breasts, only it doesn't feel like she has any. I push my beak from side to side, feeling her chest and no- she in fact has no breasts. Her fur makes her look like she does but she really doesn't. I laugh at this, moving my beak more on her chest, letting the fur tickle my throat. 

I start to feel her rouse under me and I watch as she opens her eyes. First looking up to the ceiling. Her face is so peaceful, serene. Her mouth hangs open just a bit, showing me her soft lips and delicate teeth. What part of this woman isn’t gorgeous?  I wonder. I doubt any part. She just sits there so peaceful. For a few more seconds at least. 

“Oh- What the fuck!” she screams so loud that i feel my ear drums burning, I can’t even move for a moment the sound is so loud. 

“Oh I’m sorry my deer, I didn’t mean to alarm you, are you alright?” She doesn't respond, only looking at me with those wide eyes, but then I hear her heart again. Like when we got married, it was now beating so loud that I could feel its pulse against my neck. It's thrilling knowing exactly how much my presence excites her. Why else would her heart go so crazy like this just after waking up? Even if I did scare her awake she knows she has nothing to fear. Not from me. 

She’s so soft, I think to myself. I can feel myself nuzzling into her again, closing my eyes again. If I could sleep with her under me every night, I would never again need to go out and exhaust myself hunting. All I’d ever need would be to lay on her again. 

“That’s…” I open my eyes when I hear her talking again. “King Lemal, please-” 

“Oh no my dear, no king with me! At least not here~” I give her a smile while sitting up, giving her room to move finally. 

“So… Just Lemal?”

“Yes, exactly that,” I nod deeply in secondary answer.

“Alright then good to know…”  she says. She sounds tired. She must not have slept the best last night, when I woke up earlier it seemed like she wasn’t having the best sleep anyways, and besides. Mont says that when she’s stressed she writes, but she must not have been able to find it, that or she felt bad leaving the bed. Probably that. 

It took me several seconds to realize she was silently trying to leave said bed. 

“Where are you going my Celica?”

She gives me a look like she’s been caught and I find myself giggling at her again. “Oh! Well, now that I’m awake, I figured I might as well get dressed.” 

“Oh! Well okay,” I say nodding, before I scoop her up and walk out of our room. 

“Uh- Wait, my clothes are back in the room! I thought you were fine with me getting dressed?” 

I look down at her in my hands,“of course I am, and that’s what we're going to do, but first I’m going to treat you to a lovely bath.” 

“Okay…” she responds, she must not be used to such soft and caring treatment. This might be an adjustment period for her but I’m sure she’ll start to love it in no time!

I spot Ramey down the hall.

“Ramey, my man, good morning to you!” I shouted to him.

“Good morning to you as well my lord. How can I be of servus.”  

“Well first I’d like you to meet the reason for yesterday's fuss about, say hello to Celica. Your new queen.” I clarify the queen part to remind him to show some respect to her. He’s been with the family so much that he often times forgets to show proper greetings, often just getting to work. The only people in my family that he ever even bothers with a proper “hello” are conveniently the only ones he’s scared of: Balasey and my father. Understandable enough though. 

He looks at her for a moment and begins to put his hand out but quickly pulls it back before repealing it with the much more proper bow. 

He goes deep with the bow, as he should, before beginning to greet her. “Good morning your majesty the-”

“Oh you don't have to do that sir, please stand!.”

She catches us both off guard with that. The sir especially.

“The servant that takes care of your baths is not above you, love.”  I breathe a breath of annoyance. 

“You are to carry her, she already has calluses on all of her little paw pads, you are not to contribute to that.”  

He just puts his hands out and after a quick moment I plop her in his hands. I then head about my way down the hall.

I make my way down the hallway, weaving in and out of rooms looking for the bathroom. Every day I always take the same path from my room to the baths but it’s difficult to find today given the lack of muscle memory. I’ll get used to it, another adjustment period. 

Walking into the bathroom I disrobe and sit in the cool water while the ladies go about washing and combing my feathers out. After a while of  letting them wash me to my content, I silently dismiss them to just have a moment to think. 

She’s been so quiet thus far, and so… almost inelegant oddly enough. What would strike her to call Ramey a sir? And is she really not used to being basically taken care of. And those poor little paws of hers… So rough and raw. Looking at her fingers all you see are cracks in her skin. Maybe I should get her some lotions or something… I’ll ask Ramey what might help with losing those calluses later. If he weren't so indifferent then he would have recommended something, hell he should have. I hold my temple for a moment, in frustration. She’s been taken care of so little it seems. It’s my job to fix that now. 

I sink into the water, only letting the top of my beak and my eyes rest over the bubbles. I start to think of her body, her soft little face smiling at me, those eyes looking at all of me. 

Carnally, a relationship is supposed to move quickly, consummation on the first night or soon thereafter. But she seems so scared of me, maybe I’m too big for her? Maybe it’s just the environment- or circumstances?

How might I bring my little pet comfort? She’s so fragile… Soft fur hiding a hard interior. Pulling her out of that exterior might be difficult. She’s so… I take a deep breath, perfect. I can imagine her under me… Or over.  Laying on my chest , lounging on my feathers, deep black contrasting with the soft browns and whites of her face, she pulls herself lower and I reach for her face. She nuzzles into my hand before going lower, her paws under her, on my-

I open my eyes again, not sure of when I even closed them, looking down at myself. I’m quite glad the water’s so cold.

I call for someone to bring my robe before I have a chance to get lost in thought again. One of the bath ladies puts it over my shoulders when I decline to be dried off first, instead choosing a little independence for the day. I really just wanna be on my own for a little longer. 

I begin to towel myself off before thinking to myself, how do u get to know her better? She hasn't really given me much to go off of yet…

“...the things written all hours of the night…” 

She writes! Frequently! Maybe in a diary? Why else would she be writing in the carriage, and at night no less. But that will surely get the ball rolling! Just ask about what she’s recently written of, OH genius! 

“HA!” I cackle to myself throwing my robe on fully and tying it as I walk out of the bathroom and begin to dash to our room. 

When i get there I quickly fling the door open before dashing to open her chest of things. I rummage through it and push things aside before seeing the bottom filled to the brim with books, all titled with different gibberish, no doubt in Chaooku, but none of it is what I'm looking for, not until I get to the very bottom. That’s when I see, in Chaooku, the word: Diary. Only it’s in almost ten different books.  

“How much writing does this woman do?” I mutter before Ramy, annoyed and much too loud for my likes, comes barreling in.

“Can you tell me why you’re not wearing any clothes, your majesty?!” 

“Oh please, I'm hardly flashing anyone!” 

I pull out the first three at the top, one by one opening to the first page. 

Empty. 

“Yes but you’re-”

“Oh hush Ram!”

I pull out two more, again, fucking empty. 

“Why the hell does she need so many empty diaries?? What does she write like she breathes? Fuck-”

I open another one. It is chalk full of endless scribbles. In some places she’s pushed so many words into one place that they're written over each other. 

“Ah! We have a winner!”

I flip over to the first page to check its date.

“Fucking hell, the first page is from only a week or so ago and it’s nearly full already. Damn, Mont wasn’t lying, impressive. 

I look up to see Ram, staring at me silently. 

I sigh, “You may speak now Ram,” I look back down at the diary beginning to pace. 

It takes him a moment to finally spit out the words, “It is not proper to go about the palace, running about like a fool without even a pair of pants.” He bites the last part, like that will do anything. 

I look back up at him, less than amused. “Oh, like I care Ram.”

I look down at myself for a moment, then look back up to his face. “You  are right though, fetch someone to dress me.”

Ram stands there for a moment before turning around, however, before he gets to the door I say, “also, put an order for some dresses for Celica. Just while we're on the topic of clothes.” 

Ramey stands there for a moment, looking at the floor before he says, “Of course,” and leaves. 

I walk into the dinning room, it's nearly empty. Everyone must have already eaten, we did get up pretty late this morning. I almost miss Celica for a moment as I scan the room. She’s so small, sitting on a comically tall chair. On its back I can see her cute little tail, completely still now. 

“Well hello my little love Celica!”

She doesn't respond. 

“Alright.”

I walk toward her book in hand, she doesn't look at me. 

“I was thinking, since we don’t know much about each other, what better way to begin a conversation about one another than for us to start with you. How about it love?” She doesn’t respond, only looking at her little diary. It fits in my hand like a coin. 

I open the book as I say, “Of course this might reveal some fun fantasies that we can both, maybe share?” 

However she doesn't respond to that, but it only takes her a second after the book itself is opened to say, “Oh wait! I would really prefer you didn’t read that!” 

I look back up at her, shocked. “You know, it being so personal and all!”

“Alright,” I say slowly nodding. I put it down before sliding it toward her. I whisper, “I have crossed a line, and for that I am sorry.”

She says, “Thank you… Lemal.”

“Ah! Well at least we win one battle today.” I smile at her as our food is placed in front of us. 

“Ah, perfect! Just in time.”

I begin to eat but when I look up at her she’s only staring at her food. 

“Is everything alright dear?” 

After a quick moment she says, “Can I just…” And the audacious girl begins to pick up the meat and place it in my bowl. 

“Ah- What the hell are you-?”

She finishes putting all of her meat in my bowl. 

“There we go. Is… That alright with you?”

I sputter, “I- I suppose but why…”

“I- I can't eat meat. That’s not what prey does. We don’t like it and we literally can’t digest it. Not without getting very sick.”

I nod, “Oh well of course, I absolutely believe that  poor excuse.” I begin to eat my food, talking as I eat. “I mean, my dear, why don't you eat it, it’s not like we're trying to poison you! Honestly…”

Once I’m done with my little rant our breakfast is finished in silence.

 

https://www.tumblr.com/exlwandering/754014869241626624/finally-wrote-something-for-the-first-time-in?source=share

Part One (if you're interested lol) ^