#anyway I’m on winter break I have time to draw !!!!

[dryya-doesnt]

Been a hot minute but here’s a quick doodle of werewolf marriage arc laurance as tribute 🫡🫡

Just got out of finals week I have time to draw !!!!! ( a lie.)

[x-enocyon]

Sorry for the long absence here folks. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling, divorced parents over the holidays and all that.

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖

under the mistletoe

lsu!joe x fem!reader

summary: you and joe can’t stand each other. what happens when your stubbornness meets his head on… underneath the mistletoe.

warnings: minors dni, 18+. cocky joe is always his own warning, kissing, spitting, p in v, semi-public sex.

word count: 4.3k

note: happy first day of fic-mas! what better way to start than with lsu joe <333

“yeah, i’ll be able to make it… i think,” you say into your phones receiver, struggling to slide your uggs on and talk on the phone at the same time. “sorry margot! i’m scrambling this morning!” you tell your roommate, turning her on speaker and laying your phone on the counter.

her cheerful voice fills the kitchen as she responds. “it‘s okay babe! i just heard about this party and we have to go to it before we go home for christmas this year! can you write it on the fridge calendar?”

as you listen to margot talk, you pop a k-cup into your keurig and begin brewing it, sliding your trusty travel mug underneath to catch all of the delicious liquid that you can only hope will get you through this day.

“yep, i’ll put it on there! december 21st?” you ask her, popping the cap off the dry erase marker that your white-board calendar holds.

“yes, that’s right. we’ll just have to watch our alcohol intake that night since we both have an early flight the next morning.” she laughs.

you write the event down and close the marker, placing it back in its holder. you fix up your coffee as margot continues talking, filling you in on the campus drama she’s already seen this morning.

“so anyways girl,” she raved, the smirk on her face evident in her tone, “i saw justin and joe this morning talking to the same girl. like get a grip. they’re probably having another weird competition again.”

you scowl immediately as you hear joe’s name. the quarterback and his best friend chatting up the same girl, how cliché. “god i cannot stand them!” you reply with an eye-roll, annoyance present in your voice.

you weren’t sure why you hated joe so much. maybe it was the incessant flirting he did with you and every other girl you knew. maybe it was how his friend group always made bets on who could “bag bitches” first, or maybe it was just the overly confident attitude that seeped from his pores. every class that you took with him, you dreaded, because you knew he’d be right there on his bullshit the whole time.

over time, he grew to dislike you as well, especially when he realized his advances wouldn’t work on you. you tried your best to avoid and ignore him, but he always made it difficult for you. he’d bump you as you passed by, knocking you and your books over into the floor. he’d stick his foot out in hopes that you’d trip. he’d send unsolicited dick pics just because he knew it’d piss you off. the joke was on him when you’d reply with laughing emojis or even the shrimp emoji.

margot laughed at your anger. “joe’s honestly kinda funny.” she says, only making you scowl even more. “oh am i?” you can hear him ask her, it becomes obvious to you that he’s made his way over to your best friend. “mhmmm.” she draws out, and you gag. you can imagine her twirling her hair around her finger as she flirts back with him. puke.

“hey princess, comin’ to the party?” he asks, clear that he’d taken margot’s phone. hanging up the phone on him is your answer. how could she be talking trash about him flirting one minute, and then flirting back the next. you roll your eyes for nobody but yourself.

you grab all your things and leave your flat, locking the door behind you as you head to class, ready to get the last few days before winter break over with.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

the days seem to fly by, which you’re thankful for, and you pack your bag at the end of your last class before break with a smile on your face. the party is tonight, which you aren’t really excited for, but you’re going for margot and to get at least a little tipsy.

you sling your bag over your shoulder and head out of the class, your stomach growling as you think of what you should have for dinner.

you’re lost in thought as you walk, and soon you’re running straight into a hard body. as you look up to apologize you realize it’s joe, so you close your mouth as quickly as you’ve opened it.

“damn, princess.” he chuckles, grabbing your elbows to steady you. “if you wanted a hug i could just give you one.” he winks.

“no thanks.” you say, shoving him off you. “i’m too afraid i’ll catch chlamydia or something.” his friend ja’marr laughs at your words and joe throws him a scowl.

“that’s not how that works.” joe snarks, raising an eyebrow at you. “but then again, you probably wouldn’t know, you’re probably a virgin.”

you stomp down hard on his toe. “actually no, i fucked your dad.” you retort, blowing him a kiss as you walk past, and farther down the hallway.

you don’t see justin and ja’marr losing their minds at what you said, falling into each other with laughter. you also don’t see how joe stares as you walk away, a mix of anger and pride written all over his face.

when you make it home, you can barely get your keys out before margot is throwing open the door and dragging you in, headed straight for her closet. she has about ten different outfit options laid out, and even some she’s selected for you, including a beautiful strappy red dress.

“help me pickkkkk.” she whines, rifling through all the clothes she’s strewn over her bed. you pick up a navy bodycon dress with shiny silver accents and hold it up to her frame, followed by a long, dark green dress.

“i’ve always liked how these two look on you, marg. pick one of them!” you say, trying to sound as chipper as possible. she holds them both up as she turns to look in the floor length mirror, examining them and trying to make a decision.

“ughhhhh, i don’t knowwww.” she whines again, and you’ve had enough. you snatch the red dress off the bed and race out of her room, headed for your own. you lock the door behind you, and you hear margot laughing as she knocks at the door.

“bitch!” she yells, amused at your antics. you step into your bathroom, hanging the dress on the back of the door as you slip your clothes off and turn the hot shower on. you tie your hair up, not wanting it to get wet, and you step under the hot stream.

the water hits your back pleasantly, the warmth working at the knots of stress you’d been holding in your shoulder blades. you lathered your body wash onto your loofah and began scrubbing, washing away the ick of your day.

you quickly check your body, rinsing before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower to dry off with your favorite fluffy towel. you lotion up, put on some perfume, and apply a quick layer of makeup - concealer, mascara, and lipgloss - before sliding the dress on and letting down your hair. the red fabric hugged your shape in all the right places, and you posed in the mirror as you admired just how good you looked.

you plugged the curling iron in and as you waited for it to heat up you ran out into your room to slide a thong underneath your dress, followed by putting on a pair of sparkly silver heels. you began curling your hair shortly after, and then you applied some hairspray, then a few accentuating pieces of silver jewelry.

once you were satisfied with how you looked, you spritzed on some extra perfume and unplugged the curler, wrapping the cord around it and shoving it back under your bathroom cabinet. you unlocked your door and went out to the kitchen to try and find a quick snack before the party. you settled on toast, popping a piece of bread into the toaster and pushing the button down.

margot stepped out of her room and joined you in the kitchen just as you were spreading peanut butter on your bread, and she spun around so you could critique her look. she wore the navy dress with black heels, and she looked incredible.

you took a bite of toast before speaking, “it looks great babe!”

she gagged as you spoke with your mouth full. “i can’t believe you’re eating that in a dress, my dress no less!” she scowled playfully.

“i like living life on the edge.”

you finished your food and washed your hands quickly, margot was ready to get out the door. you grabbed your phone and locked up, heading to her car so she could drive to the party. you left your phone in her car as you arrived, knowing you’d be staying sober and driving back home tonight. you had originally planned on drinking, but you changed your mind. leaving your phone was against your better judgment, but you did it anyway.

margot left her phone as well but she gave you her keys, knowing you’d be dragging her ass home tonight since you had to fly out in the morning.

as you walked into the party, you laid down the game plan.

“alright, let’s try to stick together, no unnecessary hook-ups. and please don’t drink too much. i’d also like to get home in enough time to sleep a little, and finish packing a few things.” you tell her.

she rolls her eyes and calls you a procrastinator before reluctantly agreeing. you head into the party, the loud music was already bumping through the house and making the floor shake. you knew this was a “christmas” party, but you didn’t expect anything less than rap music to be blaring throughout the frat house.

you stuck by margot’s side as she waded to the kitchen, ready to indulge in a few drinks. you politely declined all that was offered to you, and you kept a close eye on your friend as she began downing shots. after a few sips of liquid courage she finally wanted to dance, so she pulled you along until you were passing through the doorway into a giant room that had been transformed into a dance floor. red lights created a sexy scene, and a disco ball was hung from the ceiling, swirling around and creating a beautiful pattern along the walls.

unfortunately, you didn’t make it past the door. as you were headed one way, joe was headed another, and his friends blocked you both so neither of you could pass.

“the fuck are y’all doing?” joe asked irritatedly, shooting pointed glares toward his friends and to you. “seriously, move and let me through.” you said, just as angered.

justin and ja’marr laughed and smirked at each other, and you noticed margot giggling too as she pointed up to the top of the door-frame. hanging there, of course, was a bit of mistletoe.

joe spoke first. he shoved at justin, “dude, fuckin’ move.” he said.

you tried pushing past ja’marr, but he wouldn’t budge. joe shot you a dirty look. “come on, let’s get it over with then.” he said, annoyance very clear in his tone.

“hell no.” you refuse, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “i’d rather stand here all night than kiss you.”

joe’s face turns to what seems to be a genuinely offended expression, and he mirrors your pose as he challenges you. “oh yeah? alright then.” he says, sticking his bottom lip out and furrowing his brow as he shakes his head. “let’s stand here all night.”

you firmly place your back against the door frame as you make eye contact with him, and he does the same. margot is standing by with his friends, and all three of them are laughing hysterically.

“literally the two most stubborn people i’ve ever seen in my life!” she giggles, leaning on ja’marr’s shoulder.

“you think we need to stand and watch ‘em?” justin asks, looking over at margot. ja’marr answers before she has the chance. “nah, if there’s one thing i know about 9, he ain’t backing down from a challenge.”

“y/n’s the same way. she’d argue with a brick wall if it meant she could prove a point. she won’t budge until he does.”

justin laughs at their answers before ushering them off to the dancefloor, leaving you and joe alone to stare at each other with utter disgust.

you huff as you look at joe, and he smirks back at you, unfazed by your little display of attitude. people pass between you and stop to kiss under the mistletoe, on the lips, cheek, or forehead. the two of you also earn many dirty looks.

standing there is honestly easy - at first. the sheer amount of dislike you have for joe is what’s holding you upright, it has to be. you continue to shoot dirty looks at him, all of which he returns, but after a while your legs start feeling weak. you slouch, eventually falling into a sitting position, and you fix your dress along your thighs so nobody can see under it. joe takes the opportunity to tease you.

“just a quick peck,” he smarms, making a kissy face at you. “that’s allll it’ll take.”

you gag, mostly jokingly, at the thought. “i don’t wan’t your lips anywhere near me, burrow.” he laughs and shakes his head, continuing to stand there with his arms crossed.

you sit there for what feels like hours - it has to be hours, people are leaving the party now… and joe is still across from you, still crouched against the doorway. people have resorted to stepping over you both to get through to the kitchen, pecking each other happily as they cross. some of joe’s friends have tried to come save him, they’ve offered to kiss you so he could come play beer pong or hangout, but you won’t let them. you made this bet with joe, and you have to see it through.

you figured joe would break whenever a girl would come offer herself up to him, but he didn’t. he declined everyone that wasn’t you, and brushed all his friends off. you pretended that didn’t affect you… but the fact that he was doing all this because of some stupid rivalry you had with him turned you on as much as it pissed you off, not that you’d ever admit that to him.

as the crowd starts to dwindle down you get nervous, you really need to get margot and head home, but there’s no way you’re breaking and kissing joe. you look over and see her kissing ja’marr in the corner and you roll your eyes. joe seems kinda proud of his friend and a tiny smirk falls upon his lips.

you scoff.

“what’s your problem?” he asks you, sticking his foot out and kicking yours. “i really need to get going. margot and i have to fly out early and she’s over there sucking face. and i’m over here…”

“not sucking face?” he laughs, tilting his head slightly. “exactly.” you agree.

“look, if it’s bothering you that bad,” he shrugs, “i’ll give you a peck to get it over with. then you and margot can leave.” for a moment you think you can see a crack in that ‘fuckboy’ exterior. you aren’t sure you want to take him up on that offer, but you know neither of your friends will let you move from this spot if you don’t.

you think about it for a brief second, and reluctantly agree to let joe kiss you. you try to talk yourself down. i mean, it could be worse. at least he isn’t ugly.

“okay… fine. but you have to tell everyone you caved.”

“whatever you say, princess.” he lilts, already leaning in toward you. “don’t call me that, i hate it.” you snap, looking him firmly in the eye.

“why?” he teases, inching closer, “it’s what you act like. even now, getting your way so you can go home instead of standing here all night. you’re a spoiled little princess.”

you reach out your hand and place it on his chest, you definitely don’t want to kiss him now. that doesn’t stop him, though. he’s already almost there until finally, his lips are touching yours as his frame towers over yours a bit. you’re both still sitting on the floor, but joe stands up quickly and yanks you up with him.

your immediate reaction to the kiss is to squirm away, but joe doesn’t let you. he wraps his arms around your smaller frame and pulls you into him, caging you against his chest. his lips start moving against yours and after a moment, you start kissing back.

all the alarms in your head are going off, but you can’t force yourself to care now. joe is a really good kisser. your hands find their way to his hair, tugging slightly. joe pulls away for a quick breath.

“went from not wanting my lips near ya to tugging on my shit real quick, huh?”

you slap his arm, earning yourself a laugh. you wait for joe to lean back in, but he never does, and for some reason you feel hurt by it. you look over and see margot still occupied with ja’marr, and then you turn your attention back to joe. he takes in your expression before laughing, you look like a kicked puppy.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he teases again, sliding his hands back around your waist. “didn’t realize you liked me so much?”

“fuck off, joe.” you retort, but you’re laughing as you say it. you stand on your tiptoes to meet his lips again, and he obliges you. you move together in sync, and this time he keeps his hold on you, pulling you even closer.

“always knew you liked me, could fuck you under this mistletoe if i wanted.” he rasps. you moan at the thought. you aren’t sure what’s come over you. you didn’t drink anything… you aren’t usually desperate… maybe it’s something to do with the fact that joe said he didn’t want this just as much as you said you didn’t, but here you are both reveling in each other’s touch. it felt like you couldn’t get close enough to each other. he pushes your back against the doorway, finally moving his hands off your hips and tangling them in your hair.

the tip of his tongue dips into your mouth slightly, and you push yours back against his, sliding it along the roof of his mouth as you slip past his lips. before you know it, joe’s dragging you down the hall and into the first vacant room he can find before he’s throwing you down onto the bed and towering over you. you push up to unzip your dress, realizing you might want this just as much as he does, but he stops you by holding out a hand.

“nah, keep it on. slide it up.”

you do as you’re told, sliding your dress over your legs, wiggling your butt and arching your back so you can get it up over ass and hips. joe drinks in the sight of you, your smooth legs and gorgeous body. you’re insecure about yourself a lot, but he’s looking over you like a man starved as he licks his lips.

he doesn’t bother closing the door as he stalks toward you, pulling a condom from his back pocket with one hand while unbuttoning his pants with the other. you slide your panties down your legs and spread them open for him with confidence.

“fuck,” he gasps, watching as you dip your fingers down between your folds to gather some of your wetness and then you rub them in tight circles on your clit. you gasp as you touch yourself, your eyes following joe as he finally pulls his pants down far enough, fisting his hand along his admittedly large length. you always teased him about it in pictures, but it was big. he knew it, you knew it, half of the state of louisiana knew it. and to your dismay, it was prettier in person.

joe finally makes it to the edge of the bed, still watching you as you work yourself. you figured you’d be cringing at the lack of foreplay, or how his pants aren’t even all the way off, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he continues stroking himself before ripping open the condom and sliding it on. he gets on the edge of the bed by his knees and comes toward you a little, a hand extending out to run a finger through your heat and gather some of the wetness pooling there. he smears it all over his cock, and even though the condom is there, it still drives you crazy to see. “joe, come on before i back out.” you tell him, and you almost don’t recognize your fucked out voice.

the heat of the moment is so enticing to you both. his clothes are still on, pants down his legs halfway, and your dress is hiked up while you dig your high heeled shoes into someone else’s mattress. he finally leans forward and slides into you. you take a sharp breath, feeling more full than you ever have as he pushes in to the hilt.

joe barely gives you any time to adjust before he’s thrusting into you roughly. his lips find yours again and you gasp into his mouth. he pulls away slightly, allowing a drop of spit to fall from his lips into your mouth, which you take happily. you’re both moving sloppily against each other, but as joe brings his hand to your clit to flick his fingertips against it gently, you can’t bring yourself to even care. you’ve had sex with plenty of people and you’ve had orgasms before, but you’ve never experienced the euphoria joe is making you feel.

the warmth starts at the top of your head and it spreads throughout your extremities, into your fingertips and toes. you arch into him, your lips still moving together, and joe’s hips are still pounding into yours, shaking the bed against the wall. you cringe as you hear margot’s keys jingling in your bra. it doesn’t seem to bother joe.

with a few quick slips of his fingers over your clit, you’re cumming against him without warning, and harder than you ever have in your life. the tight squeeze around his cock as you cum is the catalyst for his own orgasm as he spills into the condom.

he pulls out of you with haste, ready to tie off the condom and discard it as fast as possible, hating how slimy it feels. just as soon as he’s moved you dart off the bed, grabbing your panties and slipping them up your legs before attempting to make a run for it.

joe pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking himself in and then runs after you, making it to the door before you. “pretty good, wasn’t it?” he jokes, and you roll your eyes at him before pushing past and walking back down the hall, headed for margot. he chases after you.

“okay, didn’t last as long as i normally would, but i mean, we could do it again, i could prove it. that was… you were…”

you press a finger to his lips as you pass through the very same doorway that got you into this predicament. your eyes study joe’s face as he nervously worries his bottom lip between his teeth. you’ve never seen him like this before, he’s shaken up, and you like that you’re the cause of it. you’d hate to admit it, but you would like to do this again. you point up at the mistletoe and joe takes the hint, pulling you in for another short yet sweet kiss.

“text me.” is all you say before walking over to margot, grabbing her by the arm, and dragging her out the door and to the car. you pull her keys from your bra and unlock it, opening the passenger door and shoving her in before going to the drivers side and starting the ignition.

margot slurs her words as she speaks to you. “wha’ happened? did’ya kiss ‘im?”

“i’ll tell you later, marg.” you say, eager to get home as quickly as possible. you park as quickly as you’ve pulled into the space and you help margot out, grabbing both your phones before you go inside, taking margot right to her room. she insists she’s okay enough to take off her makeup and undress, and she promises she’ll drink water before she falls asleep. you head to your room, shocked to see the clock on your phone reading 1:00am already.

you set yourself an alarm for six, and you undress quickly before sliding on some pajamas and settling in bed.

when you wake the next morning it’s to margot beating on your door. “wake the hell up, we missed our flight!”

you scramble out of bed, unplugging your phone and running out into the hall. margot stands next to her door, laughing at you as you panic.

“don’t just stand there, marg!” you shout, your voice laced with panic. “we’ve gotta get dressed, load our bags, call the airport—“

she cuts you off with a loud laugh. “relax, y/n.” she says between giggles. “we aren’t late. i just wanted to get back at you. how dare you sleep with the quarterback and not tell your best friend?” she shoves your shoulder.

you look down at your phone, realizing it’s only 6:10am. “bitch.” you laugh, running back into your room. you lock the door behind you again, and margot continues her laughter. “i need all the juicy details! literally every last second of it, you have to tell me everything!”

you weren’t sure how she even knew, even though you’re sure ja’marr probably texted her.

you roll your eyes at her even though she can’t see it as you head to your bathroom, ready to take a quick shower. you check your phone one last time before hopping in the water, noticing a text notification from joe, who you’ve affectionately saved as “fuckface.”

you don’t open it just yet, but you crack a smile knowing he’s messaged you already. what have you gotten yourself into?

all photos and dividers used are not mine. all credit to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow

[thehoodsweetheart]

A/N: I had this work in my drafts for a while and decided to put it out. I would love feedback. It’s a bit on the rough side and lengthy. (Probably should have been 2 Parts but I rolling with it). I’ve said it before and nothing has changed, my characters/readers are black.

Word Count: 4,410

StackxBlackOC

Warnings: Profanity, drama, tension, toxic arguments, angst, betrayal

Summary: Anastasia left town before the SmokeStack Twins skipped town to chase dreams in Chicago with secrets and a broken heart. What was meant to be a short trip back to Houston, TX turns into a reckoning with the past she thought she buried.

The bassline of "Before I Let Go" by Frankie Beverly and Maze blasted through the speakers as if on cue when Anastasia “Stacey” Prince stepped into her father’s house. Normally that was a signal that it’s about time to leave the cookout. From the litany of cars that filled the driveway and trailed down both sides of the street, the party was in full swing. Plenty of red Dixie cups in hand, conversations trying to beat the music's volume, dominoes, spades, the NBA finals on one of the tv’s drawing a crowd were all signals that this served as a reunion of sorts.

She silently thanked God the house had the air conditioner on despite the frequent traffic in and out of the home. She was no stranger to heat or humidity, but she had gotten spoiled living in the mild yet warm weather of Los Angeles. She did not miss that Texas heat, actually southern heat generally. When her parents divorced while she was young, her mom took their kids back to her hometown of Ladera Heights, part of the Black Beverly Hills of Los Angeles, CA. Stacey and her brother spent most of their time in LA but winter and summer breaks in Houston or Slidell, Louisiana with their dad. She had a love for Texas though. That love had brought her back for college at TSU. Her brother on the other hand was sent to live with their father when he was in high school due to too many fights.

The smell of barbecue filled the air thick enough to choke somebody. She gripped her sons’ hands tighter as she made her way through the crowded house trying to also maintain a hold of a gift bag. The two seven year olds were practically dragging her to get to the backyard ready to play with the kids. Through the crowd they could see the bounce house and other kids chasing each other around it. Stacey offered a warm smile and small hellos to her relatives and her father’s friends before she heard his boisterous laugh. 

“Slow down. Y’all don’t even know where y’all goin!” Stacey fussed at her hyperactive boys in a hushed voice. They were far less interested in the introductions to family that arguably they should have already known. The boys were eager to play.

“Whoaaa! There goes my baby girl. And who are these big boys dragging her around?” His light brown eyes gleamed as he stretched his arms out wide. The boys laughed and jumped into his arms in excitement. Richard Sr. tickled his grandsons making them squeal deep dimples accenting their snaggletooth smiles. “Hey Sweets.” He leaned, placing a small peck on her forehead. 

“Happy Birthday Dad! Why didn't you tell me you were having a party?” Stacey chastised him. 

“Get that stick out ya butt! It’s just a cookout. You look like you’re dressed for a party anyway. Maybe not this one…” He motioned to her outfit. She wore a black cottage core House of CB dress with black mules.

 “Oh whatever. I just wanted a heads up…and I’m always fly.” She stated a matter of factly pretending to toss her hair over her shoulder since it was too short in her fresh bob. She held up a little burgundy bag with gold cursive embossed writing. “Your gift.” 

Big Rich smirked, taking the bag. “You must be doing real well. Cartier for your old man? You shouldn’t have.” 

“Just say thank you.” Stacey muttered as she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes scanned the open floor plan of the two story home. She shifted her weight on her feet taking in her surroundings.

The truth was this was more than a birthday gift. This was a peace offering for the guilt of hardly coming to visit Houston within the last seven, almost 8 years. Stacey had visited three times, two of which she did not bring her twin sons. Those two visits were also within the same year and considered ‘girl trips’ for the weekend. Richard Sr would travel to Los Angeles to visit them frequently but he never held his tongue about his disapproval of his daughter not visiting him.

—

“When’s the last time you came to see your old man? I think you should come to Houston for at least the weekend, if a week is asking too much of you.” Stacey’s father glanced down at his iPhone to watch his daughter’s reaction via FaceTime. The thought of Houston pulled a sigh from Stacey. Her lips turned up into a smirk matching her father’s expression. He had anticipated an eye roll from his stubborn daughter.

“Which weekend are we speaking of? I need to check out my calendar and the twin’s schedule. I might leave them with mom.”

“You ain’t gotta leave my grand babies. They can hang wit their grandpere. Your fine ass mama can come too though.”

“Please Dad, you know she has a new husband.”

“I ain’t never cared about a punk ass nigga.”

“Now why does he have to be all that? He coo’ to me. He treats her well.”

“Sound like you switchin sides sweets. I never thought I’d see the day. My only girl would utter favor upon the opps.” Richard Sr. shook his head in disbelief, committing to acting as if his feelings were hurt. Stacey let out a goofy laugh covering her mouth.

“Daddy, I would never betray you. Scouts honor.” She held up a crossed middle and index finger.

“I don’t know if I want you to visit me no more. Just send the boys.” He continued his act of discontent.

“They ain’t coming without me. We’re a package.”

“Package my ass. Return to sender. You were just saying that you were going to leave them wit your momma.” He shook his head. “You want my card info so you can get these tickets now?”

“I don’t need your money Dad. Thank you but your daughter is fully capable of—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… you can pay yourself. I don’t want you to though.”

“You just want to make sure I actually come. I know you.”

“I know you too.”

“I’m not that flaky. We’ll be there for your birthday.”

—

“Mhm…You lookin’ for somebody?”

“No, not at all.” She lied. There was an unsettled feeling at the pit of her stomach that she struggled to decipher if it was anxiety or intuition. She was looking for the reason why.

“Well let me make you a drink. You look like you need it.”

The twins had broken free from their grandfather running towards the backyard as Stacey’s big brother opened the sliding doors. They screamed “Hey Uncle” in unison as they hurried to the bounce house. Stacey’s older brother, Richard Jr looked down at them eyebrows raised as he took a step back with a chuckle as they ran out. He held his arm out to usher a heavily pregnant Annie walk in before him. He grabbed a bottle of Dussé from the kitchen cabinet giving his sister a quick wave before returning outside. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him as she accepted the cocktail from her dad.

Stacey’s eyes went wide with excitement seeing her dear friend that she considered like family. She practically completely zoned out from whatever her dad had been rambling about. Annie was the big sister Stacey wished for. They met when Annie moved from the Delta up to Houston. It was merely a coincidence that Annie was married to one of the two demons that did business with Stacey’s father and brother. A smile crept into your face taking in the image of her. Her tight coils pinned up into an updo. She wore a yellow flowy maxi dress that complimented her deep complexion and offered some cleavage for view. Stacey knew her husband had to be close behind. She prayed his twin wasn’t. She anticipated them to appear with bated breath.

“Hey Mrs. Annie!” Stacey beamed.

 “Stacey?! Now this is a surprise. Ya Pa finally got ya down here. Why you didn’t tell me you were coming?!” Annie smiled with a hand on her hip. Stacey’s dad patted her shoulder as he walked away. The women pulled each other into a warm embrace. Stacey broke the hug to rub Annie’s swollen belly. 

“Mmm. He did. The point was for it to be a surprise! I can’t wait to meet your baby girl.” Annie had revealed to Stacey over a recent call that she and Smoke were expecting a baby girl.

“You and I both. I’m bout sick of this heat bein pregnant.”

”Tell me about it. I was miserable. I don’t miss none of that.”

”Speakin’ of…Those was your boys almost knocking your brother over?” Annie knowingly asked. You chewed your bottom lip and nodded. She offered a sympathetic look. “They look just like ‘em too. Ain’t no hiding that.”

”They’re good boys. A handful though with all that energy but as charming as can be.” Stacey watched them go into the bounce house before returning her attention back to Annie. “Let’s get you a seat somewhere. You don’t need to be on your feet.” Stacey changed subjects leading Annie to the couches in the living room where there was less of a crowd. 

“Don’t you start fussin over me too! I get enough of that from the guys.” She fanned Stacey off as they sat down. Stacey twiddled her thumbs.

”Does Smoke know?”

”You asked me not to say nothin. I respected that.” She tapped Stacey’s knee. 

Stacey should have known. If she could trust anyone it would be Annie. In fact, Annie was the first to know about Stacey being pregnant. She ran to Annie in a panic and hysterics not knowing what to do. Stack and Stacey had already broken up. The last thing she wanted was him to think she was trying to trick her way back into his life. Especially when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

The benefit was Smoke was a man of few words. Stacey could easily be a topic he didn’t inquire much about. They also left for Chicago after she moved to LA, buying her much time. Annie understood why Stacey kept the twins a secret. Annie accepted her husband and all that he was whether she agreed with it or not. She knew Stacey struggled to accept the lifestyle the SmokeStack twins had because it was too much like her father’s. They were caught up in drug trafficking, gang wars, robberies, and a slew of other crimes. Her family flipped that drug money into legal businesses that proved to be lucrative, but she knew they played both sides. Her father moved like a ghost with a deadly hand and the twins were no different. Stacey even resented her brother didn’t strive for a more clean and narrow life.

“I never got a chance to properly thank you for everything.”

”We family. You didn’t need to.”

”Oh but I do. My request was selfish.” 

Stacey left early enough in her pregnancy that no one knew she was pregnant before she left. She moved back to Los Angeles somewhere between being lovesick and a heartbroken puppy, tail tucked and head down. Elias ‘Stack’ Moore was her first love. What started as a teenage crush of her brother’s charming best friend, led to a secret or “private” courtship, then blossomed into a whirlwind romance. It ended up being a hot and cold and often toxic relationship. All in all, during their last encounter, Stacey saw a side of Stack that she never wanted to see again. Her heart rate quickened just at the thought.

”What you gone do today cuz they all here?”

”I guess I can’t avoid it forever.” Stacy tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

”Avoid what?” Smoke spoke up causing both of the ladies to jump a bit in their seats. Annie put her hand on her chest. He eyed Stacey with an expecting look. Stacey shook her head taking a gulp of her drink. 

”Nearly scared me half to death…Hey Smoke.” Stacey let out a nervous chuckle.

 “How you been Stacey?” Smoke squinted his eyes as his eyes shifted between you and Annie. He half waited for you all to answer his initial question. Smoke had come into the house to look for Annie after noticing she didn’t return outside with RJ. That’s when he caught the tail end of their conversation. He could tell from the women’s body language that they were shaken from the thought that he even heard that much. 

“I’ve been good. Nothing worth complaining about. What about you? I see congratulations are in order.” Stacey tried not to shrink under his studying gaze.

“Thank you. Glad to hear you good.”

Much later in the backyard…

Richard Jr. leaned against a beam of the patio watching his nephews play. Her older brother never questioned it. In his mind, the twins could’ve been the result of a rebound relationship. His gut told him differently each time he saw them over the years. He just knew it wasn’t none of his business. Stacey never asked nor cared for his opinion when she started messing with his friend, so what happened after he left alone. Never spoke of it.

The twins slid out of the bounce house whispering to each other. They shot each other dimpled smiles before walking separate ways. The youngest of the two walked over to the patio where the coolers were. He used his small hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. The heat caused him to frown. He rocked on his bare feet trying to wait for the large masculine figure to move. The man was hunched down digging into the ice for longer than the little boy’s patience could stand.

“Excuse me sir! Can I have a Sprite?” The little boy asked cutting to the chase. Stack stood up to his full height, turning to find the little boy who was in a rush.

“What about a water?” Stack offered, cocking his head to the side.

“Nah…I asked for a Sprite.” The little boy protested.

“Your mama let you drink soda?” Stack raised and eyebrow.

“If I finish before she see me then she won’t know.” A mischievous smirk eased on the little boy’s face, his dimples in tow. Stack chuckled, shaking his head at the little boy’s antics. 

“How about a CapriSun?” Stack bargained.

“2  CapriSuns and you got a deal.” The boy hustled.

“If you that thirsty then you should take the water.”

“The other one is for me.” Another small raspy voice peaked up from behind Stack. He walked around to his brother’s side giving the tall man a once over. 

“Y’all boys twins?”

“No…I just met him today.” The twins laughed in unison. The blind could see the boys were identical. 

Elias chuckled low. “Y’all came out the womb negotiating, huh?”

The taller one stuck out his hand. “I’m Ezra.”

“EJ,” said the other, following suit.

Elias blinked. “EJ?”

“Elias Jr.,” the boy corrected. “But nobody calls me Junior except my granddad. And just when he’s mad.”

The bottle nearly slipped from Elias’s hand. His smirk faltered.

“Elias?” he repeated, voice just a little offbeat.

“Yeah,” Ezra said proudly. 

Just then, the glass sliding door slid open. Stacey stepped out into the glow of the string lights—phone in one hand, small plate of cake in the other—then froze.

There was her past, standing face to face with her future. 

Shit.

“Ez. EJ,” she called quickly, tone clipped. “Go inside. Wash your hands and sit down. No soda.”

The boys groaned in unison. “But—”

Stack stood there, eyes shifting from the twin boys to Stacey then back to the boys. He took in their features. Their small jaw lines a miniature version of his own. The dimples, slight arch in the left eyebrow. 

“Now.” Stacey ordered.

They knew that tone. Both darted off, leaving Elias staring after them with his jaw clenched and something unreadable in his eyes.

Stacey approached, keeping her expression neutral, calm.

“You want some cake?” she asked lightly, nodding at the plate. “Red velvet. From Aunt Marlene. You still like that?”

Elias didn’t take his eyes off her. “Elias Jr.?”

Stacey paused, lips tightening around a calm smile. “It’s a popular name.”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “Stace.”

She tilted her head. “Don’t start.”

He took a slow sip of his drink, then lowered it deliberately. “You naming one of your kids after me is wild as hell. But what’s crazier? You showing up here with me-sized children and thinking I wasn’t gonna ask questions.”

“They’re my kids,” she replied.

“Didn’t say they weren’t. But I know my math. And I know my face. And Ezra? He got your attitude and my sarcasm.”

Stacey’s expression didn’t move. “You’re reaching.”

He stepped closer. “You know who they belong to, Stacey.”

“Does it matter?” she said, voice lower now. “You told me to stay away from you. You made it very clear.”

“Don’t flip this,” he snapped. “You vanished. Had my sons without telling me. Let your dad visit them in L.A. like it was some secret mission—”

“Because I didn’t want you in their world,” she cut in, sharper. “And I didn’t want them in yours.”

“Funny,” he bit back. “Since they damn near walked straight into mine.”

Stacey looked away. “They don’t know who you were.”

“They will,” Elias said. “Soon. But you? You and I—we’re gonna talk. For real. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you—”

“Dinner,” he interrupted, jaw flexing. “Tomorrow night. My spot. I’ll send the car.”

Stacey folded her arms. “I’m not on your payroll, Elias.”

He grinned, wolfish. “I know. That’s what makes this fun.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say no.

He leaned in, his voice dipping. “Bring your pride. But bring the truth too. I want it all.”

And just like that, he walked away—cooler than the bottle he left behind, but burning hotter than the grill smoke behind him.

Stacey stood still, heart drumming under the surface. She had just lost control of the narrative if she ever was in control of it.

And dinner was less than 24 hours away.

Stacey crossed her legs slowly, deliberately. Her black silk dress clung to her like it had secrets of its own. Her lip gloss was perfect, her expression was not. She stared across the table at Elias like she was staring down a man with a loaded gun and history told her, in many ways, she was.

But she wasn’t twenty-three anymore. And she didn’t flinch for men like Elias Moore. Even if her pulse said otherwise.

Elias sat like sin on a throne. One hand resting on a lowball crystal glass of scotch, the other draped over the back of the booth. Smug. Rich. And ten times more dangerous than when she left him.

He sipped slowly from his glass, jaw tight, a diamond-studded watch glinting under candlelight. No jacket, just a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, showing off forearms veined and tensed. That same smirk people mistook for charm rested on his mouth. But it wasn’t charm tonight. It was fury held hostage behind an attempt to show good manners.

Stacey had accepted his invitation. Begrudgingly.

Elias looked her up and down.

“You clean up nice,” he said coolly, though the heat in his chest rose like smoke. “Didn’t think LA would turn you into a cloud engineer-slash-tech princess with investment portfolios and twin sons named after your past.”

Her jaw tensed.

She shifted in her seat across from him ever so slightly, graceful, composed.

“I didn’t come here for your sarcasm, Elias.”

“No?” He leaned forward, forearms on the table. “You’re here to explain why the hell I met my sons next to a bounce house and a f**king Capri Sun cooler.” 

 “So you invite me to dinner? For that…” Her eyes scanned the closed restaurant that only milled with a few staff members.

“I wanted to catch up without any interference. Seeing you yesterday reminded me how much I missed your company.” Stack smirked, deepening his dimples.

“I call bullshit, but I’ll leave it alone.”

”Don’t pussy out. Say what’s on your mind.”

“I know you want to really know why I did it. The truth is I was scared and young. I might not have known much about life yet, but I sure as hell knew about you. Men like you and your brother. Men like my father. I knew if I didn’t want to get forced into a decision that I didn’t want to make, then I would have to take agency of my own life. I had to protect me and my babies. And from what I heard, I wasn’t the only one to skip town.”

“So what? That was a fuck me while you ran off carryin’ my sons? They my kids too right?”

“I—I heard you threatening one of your little conquests to have an abortion. I saw how you treated women you didn’t want any more. Look how you did Mary. What made me different?”

“You know that I love—loved and cared about you. I was crazy about you.”

“Sure had a funny way to show it. Our last conversation you told me to stay away from you and you didn’t want to hear anything from me ever again.” 

Elias flexed his jaw feeling himself grow more frustrated with this conversation. He ran his hand over his face exhaling. Men like you and your brother. Men like my father. Stacey’s words echoed in his mind. He respected Big Rich but the SmokeStack twins were a different kind of beast. They were relentless in their dealings and everyone knew not to cross them. That didn’t stop people from trying. Elias was careless with women because he could be. Stack was boystorous, while Smoke preferred to move like a ghost. What's the consequence when you can make shit disappear? she knows not to provoke a man of their word. He told her never to speak to him, so she didn’t. He didn’t do it out of spite or anger. He wanted to protect her.

“I want a DNA test.” He said deadpan. 

Stacey nodded at the request. It was equally understandable yet unexpected. She chuckled bitterly, turning her head to the side to gaze out of the vast window beside her. The night view of the city’s lights played as an excuse for her to formulate her response. She straightened her posture before peering into Stack’s chocolate orbs.

“Ok.”

“Ok? That’s all you gotta say?” Elias narrowed his eyes like her indifference was a bigger betrayal than silence.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Fine! Take the test! It won’t change shit for me. I didn’t come looking for you. I don’t have shit to prove!” Stacey allowed her irritation to slip out.

“Lower your fuckin voice.” he gritted

“Stop cursing at me.” She matched his tone, pointing a freshly manicured finger at him.

“Still a brat. I oughta bend you over my knee and spank you.” Stack bit his lip revealing his gold fangs. Stacey scoffed, rising from her seat, yanking her dress down.

”I don’t even know why I came here. Bye Elias.” She turned, but didn’t make it two steps.

“Anastasia.” He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to.

Her full name slid from his tongue like a knife in velvet. It was rare, intimate, intentional.

She froze.

For a second, the restaurant blurred.

She was twenty-three again, barefoot in his penthouse, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else.

Elias had whispered that name against her collarbone like it was sacred. And then later, he’d said it like a curse.

The memory hit like déjà vu she didn’t ask for.

Elias stood slowly, chair scraping softly behind him. No rush. No threat. Just presence: weighted and sure, the kind of stillness that says don’t test me.

“Sit down.”

Her jaw clenched, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she buried it. That name still had teeth. She hated that it still fit in his mouth like it belonged there.

“We’re not done,” he added, quieter this time, like a fact more than a warning.

And just like that, Anastasia sat.

Not because he told her to.

But because some part of her still remembered what it meant when he used her real name and it burned.

“Once I get that paperwork, I plan on showing up for them. I’ma try to do right by them.”

”You’ve always tried, Elias. Tried new ventures. Tried new cities. Tried new women.” She took a sip of her wine, slow and deliberate. “Trying was never your issue.”

He glances away feeling the gravity of her words.

“You were a collector of beautiful things. Acquiring more for the sake of having them, which isn’t to speak to their value or what you deemed them to be…” Stacey set down the glass.

“Are you saying that I don’t value—“ she cuts him off, shaking her head.

“No…and yes? Possibly. You wage value in proximity to your ego. If you’re the first one with it, or if it's one of one. The more rare the better right? Until the next thing becomes the object of your affection…I won’t pretend to know your inner workings or who you are now though.”

“Are we talking objects or women?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Ahh Stace! You wound me. You think so poorly of me. Everything has value. Every woman has value. They also have a role to play. I possess the power to assign those roles. It’s made the most prideful and self proclaimed ‘virtuous’ bend to my will.”

“There’s Stack.” She referred to him as his street nickname.

“Don’t do that.” His jaw tightens.

Stacey leans in, locking eyes with him. 

“Why not? You taught me how to compartmentalize.”

They stared at each other—wounded, proud, still burning. Finally, the waiter appeared to pour wine. Neither looked away. Just as the door of the private dining room closed behind them, Elias leaned forward again, voice lower now.

“After tonight,” he said, “don’t think you can walk out of my life again without a war.”

And Stacey—chin high, eyes locked—simply said:

“Then let’s not make it a war.”

[sumplys]

Rhett Abbott is unable to resist you, his obsession rising to the surface.

other rhett abbott blurbs can be found under the first #

The Wyoming cold bit in the winter with jagged teeth— a rabid mutt’s clenched jaw. It burrowed deep; an aching hunger crawling between the gaps of your jacket, into your socks.

The mares huddled during December as the southern fields went bare, pelts brushing over pelts, hooves tucked against the forage to fight the chill.

Your father always sent you past the dormant farm in the brisk dawn into the rotting stables; nightgown clinging to the heels of your boots. Though he had his labourers, dawn was your alarm clock, your chores never to be undone.

Tonight was a night like any other.

Your feet pressed into the rotting lumber steps, a heavy creaking piercing the rustling leaves. The big oak trees arched into the trembling breeze, the first whispers of daylight’s wind.

“Hey, little lamb.”

A figure stretched through the trailing mist, broad back casting a shadow over the frosted country plains.

“What are you doing here?”

Rhett Abbott pressed a calloused palm against your elbow, easing you off the aching steps.

His russet hat hung over his knuckles, concealing flourishing bruises and blistering scars. Rhett was tall, flannel pressing against the musculature of his tanned back— almost Herculean.

Pressed box of Marlboros shoved in his denim pocket, hair perfectly tossed atop his head— he was beautiful in a way that drew no less attention than his skill. He was a rodeo boy, a thrill seeker, a glory chaser; your father’s dream son.

“I came to see the horses— I hope that’s alright.”

You nodded, eyes shifting in the dark.

“Your daddy awake yet?” he asked, biceps flexing over his forearms as he folded them against his chest.

Rhett helped your father on the weekends, wrangled the herd, tended to even the broncos he didn’t ride.

He often lingered for supper, his smart mouth drawing hearty laughter out of your father’s throat. It was a nice sound, one that hardly stuck around after Rhett’s departure.

It was early, though, with the sunrise breaking over the ranch’s horizon— too early for him to be there for your dad.

You shook your head, “Out like a light, still. You should try again near noon. Is it an emergency?”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he said, breathing through the darkness, pausing like he was considering a moral sin.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Your tone was blunt.

You didn’t know Rhett that well, the two of you just never conversed outside of formalities, but it was too early for you to care much.

He paused, holding his tongue like a secret.

“Y’know what— can I come with you? I’m sure I can put myself to good use.”

You swung the picket fence open, rust creaking at the hinges, “Um, sure.”

His presence was welcomed in the aching sound of silence, a blanket of comfort over the dark.

A musk of cheap brandy and cigarettes whispered against the hollow of his throat, coating the winter with his sweet scent. You sighed through the smell, ribs expanding with the essence of him.

“What chores does he have you up to at this hour, anyway?”

You hiked up the lace hem of your dress and didn’t notice when his cerulean gaze dropped to the skin along your calves, “Feeding the horses, these days. Pepper— d’you remember the black beauty with the almost brown mane? Well, she had foals.”

He nodded, silent as he trailed behind you.

It was mindless conversation, a surface level stimulation to ease you open— to open your mouth.

Rhett Abbott may come off as moronic, but, truly, he was far from it.

The trail was bone dry in the shadow of midnight, boots pressing against the soft dirt. He followed like a mutt on a choke chain, head bent and tresses drenched in the moon’s light.

He’d watched you for a long time. Hands over the reins of his horse, a familiar handshake with your father: his gaze always lingered.

He always tried to catch a smile from you, a glance, a laugh. As if when he did, he could have bottled it, keeping a piece of you trapped— only for him. He wasn’t used to not being the centre of attention, not ever.

It’s not like your dad didn’t notice, either. A knowing stare bore into Rhett’s skin, following a passing look in your direction.

“Careful, son,” your father had said, not a taunt, not a threat, but not far from one, either.

“How’s the riding going?” you asked, the sweet ring of your voice shaking him from his reverie.

He should have been more loyal to your father—more rule abiding—but when your wit passed through your pouting lips, not even God Himself could shake him.

He pressed against the door of the barn, timber creaking against the frames.

“It’s okay, it’s alright— you know I’ve never been much good.”

He let his hands tangle in his brunette curls, a nervous knot wrapping around his throat.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

The reassurance was soft, nearly quiet, but he felt it—he felt it like a branding iron to the chest.

“Thanks, kid.”

“Kid?” you laughed, “I’m not that much younger than you.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough—none of your business, really.”

You stepped forward, the evening wrapping around your figure in ribbons of black. The horses nestled together, preening in the warmth.

“Your daddy makes it sound like you’re still in high-school.”

His voice was almost a whisper in the darkness of the stable, a subtle twinge of embarrassment over his southern drawl.

“What’s up with you,” you snorted.

Your starkness was a front, armour over your clenched heart.

“I ain’t supposed to be talking to you, you know,” he breathed, like a nervous confession.

Your head turned, fingers still trailing against the horse’s mane, “What?”

He laughed, a ringing more nervous than you’d ever heard it, “I really shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“My daddy tell you that?”

He shook his head, brunette tresses falling over his eyes as he kicked a pebble into the haystack.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, an absentminded smirk on his lips, his hands clenching around his biceps as if he was caressing himself.

“I never thought you were the kind of man to listen to rules, Rhett,” the words were pathetic as soon as they left your mouth, a subtle beg for his attention—his truth.

Your daddy kept a lot of things from you, but you would not let Rhett Abbott be one of them. You needed your fix.

“You’re a good girl, you know.”

You laughed—genuine, piercing—like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “I’m not nearly as good as you think I am.”

“I don’t mean it in any type of way, if you’re offended by it, but you’re just a nice God fearing girl. You live with your parents, you listen well to your mom—I mean, Jesus, you have a curfew and you stick to it.”

“I do all sorts of bad, Rhett Abbott, that mighta been why my daddy was so quick to warn you.” Even as the words passed your lips, you could feel the fallacy.

Selfishly, you wanted to impress him. It was weird, like the natural interaction between opposing poles—the magnetism overwhelming you.

You wanted him to think you were cooler than you were—more experienced.

It was in vain.

“How much bad could you do, really, with a pretty face like that.”

You laughed again, a giggle falling past your pursed lips.

The room was looser now, familiarity steeping like herbs over hot tea.

You stumbled back, the worn down leather of your boots catching over a half-damp pail of water.

His fingers brushed over your hips and your voice caught in your throat. You thought you’d nearly choke.

“Sorry,” you said, voice nearly silent.

The adorned belt clasp over his waist left marks over your spine, a piercing feeling just shy of breaking skin.

“Stop holding your breath.”

“I’m not.”

His unshaved jaw scratched over your skin, a warm sensation, “Don’t lie.”

He paused.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, should we?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you breathed.

A shiver nipped at your spine, an unfamiliar heat falling over the slope of your body as a sigh lodged itself in your jugular. His breath feathered over your throat, the tension palpable and incandescent, warmth lapping over your skin with the devil’s tongue.

“God, forgive me.”

You repeated his words back in your head. You weren’t going to stop.

“Make me a better man,” he breathed the words across your neck, etching themselves into your collarbone like an adorned promise.

His thumb slid over the pink of your lips, your tongue slipping over his knuckle as he eased his fingers into your mouth.

“Fuck.” His hips ached pathetically as he leaned into the stack of straw. He watched your lips work his fingers, spit trailing over his hands, dripping onto his jeans. Your eyes—wide and pretty—snapped any restraint he convinced himself that he had, a tightness forming in his stomach.

“I can’t,” he whispered, pulling his fingers away from your mouth, slick with saliva.

He brought his hand to his own mouth, tongue lapping at the remnants of drool.

Your lips stayed parted, a silent begging for contact. He dragged his thumb down the inside of lip, sundering your jaw.

Then he spat. It rolls against your tastebuds, spilling across your tongue and down your throat.

“Jesus, kid,” his breath stuttered as he watched you swallow, hips bucking against the soft cotton bunched at your waist.

He was too far gone to think, he just clutched at the zipper on his denim, pressing himself against your core, rubbing between your folds.

He nearly collapsed at the feverish warmth, an echoing whimper escaping his throat as he fought to keep his weight off of you. It’s frantic, almost clumsy, the way his body finds a rhythm. A fervent pulse started around his cock, a familiar stretch that he bucked into.

He clung to you, palms desperately tangling into your hair, fingers cramping as they dug into your neck, “Baby, baby, c’mon. Fuck—fuck, please—don’t, I can’t.”

You fluttered around him, a habitual ache of your walls, and the gasp he let out neared a groan.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” he choked, cerulean eyes despairing like he thought you were betraying him.

He was soft—nearly pathetic—as he keened into you, hands clutching any stretch of your skin in an attempt to anchor himself.

“Sweetheart, please, don’t,” he whined, but his muscles locked as he buried further into you, skin fully fleshed against yours.

His eyes were glassy, tears welling in his eyes. The gasps passing through his warm lips left slick between your thighs, pacing himself through an excruciatingly slow rhythm.

It wasn’t calculated—it was sloppy, habitual—the kind of pounding you couldn’t measure, like an irregular heartbeat.

“Rhett…” you whisper, breathy and low, and he’s already gone.

His throat catches, voice breaking around the sound, and you feel it—the warmth spilling inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shuddered around him, hips rolling over whatever he spent within you.

“It’s okay,” you whispered against his neck.

And it was, truly, because you knew—in the depravities of your heart—that that God wrapped you in the clutches of Rhett Abbott.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter Seven

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: YOONGI IN THIS SUIT. Angst - themes of jealousy, insecurity, Mildly angry car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), The L Word <3

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 12, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: We’re back after a longish break! Thank you to @glossdebut for beta reading! Enjoy this chapter, my lovelies~ 💕

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Hi, baby! I’m back…?” Your voice trails off as you enter Yoongi’s apartment that afternoon and suddenly the living room has been transformed into what can only be described as the scene for the makeover montage in movies (or fanfics?). 

Clothing racks line one wall, laden with everything from elegant cocktail dresses to sleek jumpsuits. A makeup station with a massive lighted mirror has been set up near the window.

It’s chaos, but it’s also… kind of amazing.

“What the—” you mutter to yourself, stepping further into the room.

Yoongi appears from the kitchen, a cup of iced coffee in hand, looking unfazed by the commotion. He’s dressed casually in black joggers and a white t-shirt, collarbones peaking deliciously from the loose neckline. Around his neck, a brown necklace draws your eyes to the smooth column of his throat. What gave him the right?

Anyway, he spots you immediately, face softening.

“Hi,” he says, strolling over to you, stuffing one hand inside his pocket casually. Not him acting all awkward again in front of other people.

You try not to roll your eyes before dragging him towards the nearest room and closing the door behind you.

His face is blank, causing you to whisper-shout, “What is all that?” gesturing wildly at the door that’s shielding the activity outside.

He sips his coffee, completely unbothered. “Told you I’d take care of everything.”

“Yah! You didn’t have to go this far!” you exclaim, but there’s a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you slap his chest.

Yoongi captures your wrist and pulls you closer. “Let me spoil you when I want to, mm?” Soft lips meet your forehead.

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his words. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he smiles sweetly, pressing a quick kiss on your lips this time.

You pull him back in with a loop of your finger around his necklace.

“Hmm, jagi,” he hums against your mouth, a soft reprimand. “Later, okay? They’re here for you.”

Despite your initial skepticism, it’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement. The team from Bit & Boot is professional but warm, making small talk about your personal color analysis. You’re apparently a soft spring, or was it deep winter?

Someone lays out a few dresses, and your eyes immediately gravitate toward a beige cocktail dress with sleek lines and subtle embellishments along the neckline.

“You have a good eye,” one of the stylists says, removing the hanger. Maybe you did understand the color thingy they were talking about, because they looked pleased. Thank God, because you didn’t want to look like a chump.

Yoongi lingers nearby, keeping an eye on everything. When your makeup artist offers him a chair as if he doesn’t own the place, he smirks and says, “Nah, I’m just here to admire.”

You’re seated in front of the mirror as they work on you, foundation buffed onto your skin, hair teased and styled until it cascades in soft waves over your shoulders. Yoongi stays close, occasionally glancing at his phone but mostly watching you, a small, private smile playing on his lips.

When you finally step out in the dress, Yoongi’s reaction is everything you could have hoped for. 

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice low.

“Too much?” you ask, smoothing the dress nervously.

“Too much? No.” He steps closer, his hand finding your waist, pulling you just slightly toward him. “You’re perfect.”

His words send warmth blooming in your chest. 

The glam team packs up quickly, with small smiles that they try to hide. You bow as they go, leaving the two of you alone in the now-pristine living room.

As the door clicks shut behind them, Yoongi turns to you, his hands sliding down your hips as his lips brush your ear.

“Jagi, we don’t have to go,” he murmurs, voice deep and dangerous. “You’re so sexy. Let’s just stay here. I’ll just take care of you.”

You laugh softly, placing your hands on his chest. “Yoongi, we can’t skip your hyung’s party.”

“Hmm.” His lips curve into a smirk, and his fingers trace lazy patterns on your sides, giving it a light squeeze.

“Yoongi…”

“Just let me kiss your lips for a bit…”

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head. “Lip gloss.”

“Not those lips…”

“Yoongi!” You shout, scandalized at the suggestion. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the flutter of something low in your belly as he dips his head to your shoulder, chuckling to himself. He’s such a shithead.

“Fine. But know that all I’ll be thinking about tonight is how soon I can get you back here.” He bites your shoulder for good measure.

“Well, you’d better behave then. Don’t make me regret saying yes to this party.”

He steals the faintest kiss on your lips. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He lied.

You’re just in the car and already he is not on his best behavior. 

Not when he almost tears your panties in half as he hooks it to the side and inserts his cock in your warmth without so much as a prep.

Backtracking—this was not supposed to happen. And yet somehow you also knew it would, if you’d be really honest.. See, you were just making light conversation as you entered his Palisade.

“So who’s coming to the party again?”

He unbuttons his blazer, leaning back on his seat. “Bunch of label people, my members. They know I’m bringing you.”

“What did you say?”

“Told them to not act like idiots. And that they better behave.”

You hum, amused at the hint of green in his irises. Maybe it can be greener… 

“And, uh, Yijeong will be there, too?” 

Silence. Except for the soft whirr of the partition rolling up.

“Get over here.”

“Mm?”

“You heard me,” he says, voice a touch darker. 

You shuffle to sit on his lap, the fabric of your dress gathering on your waist. His large warm hand strokes up your thigh towards the plush of your ass, roughly squeezing.

“Grind,” he instructs. “Make me hard before I fuck you right here right now.”

Before you can protest your body is already acting on instincts, rolling your hips as per his instructions. Your panties are getting more damp as you continue to rub yourself against the growing stiffness under his trousers.

You hear the sound of a metal buckle and a zip. He frees his cock (he is not wearing underwear–this fucker!) and before you can do anything else, he hooks your panties to the side.

A wave of bliss courses through you as he nestles his tip against your sticky folds, prodding your clit ever so slightly. 

“Can you take it?” 

“Yeah...” 

He smirks. “Okay then, take it.”

A moan rips from your throat when he slips inside and pistons up into you. Hard, fast, and furious. There’s no build-up, not enough forewarning. But you love the stretch—the painful, delicious sting as he forces himself to fit inside you like he has many times before.

“Say my name,” he grits.

“Baby…”

“Whose dick are you riding right now, huh?”

“Yours, Yoongi—mmph fuck.”

His grip tightens on your hips, the guitar-calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he fucks up into you deep. The wet, obscene sounds of your slick walls sucking him in fill the Palisade, drowned out only by your soft whimpers and the way Yoongi grunts against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he breathes, lips dragging along the shell of your ear, against your piercing. “You always take me so well.”

You grasp the leather headrest, desperate for something to anchor you. But there’s no finding your balance when he’s feral—when his cock is hitting so goddamn deep it knocks the air from your lungs. Your head falls back, mouth parting with a moan as the pleasure crests higher. Every inch of skin on fire.

Yoongi doesn’t slow. If anything, the sight of you, the feel of you—fucked-out and soooo fuckin’ wet—only makes him wilder. His hands shift lower, gripping the meat of your ass, helping you bounce on his cock.

“You want me jealous, huh?” he growls. “Wan’ test me?”

“No, I—fuck—”

His teeth graze your jaw, a warning. “Liar.”

A particularly sharp thrust has you crying out, your nails clawing at his back. His chuckle is dark, pleased. “Don’t worry, jagi. I’ll fuck the thought of anyone else outta you.”

You’re close. You can feel it—the unbearable heat pooling in your belly, every nerve in your body coiling tight. Yoongi knows it too, the way your pussy starts fluttering around him.

“Shit, ‘m close…”

“Yeah, that’s it. I like it when you lose control…”

“Ahh. Please, Yoongi.”

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he coaxes, voice rough, strained. “Let me feel you cum for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your release crashes over you, sharp and white-hot, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Yoongi groans, feeling you squeeze him tight tight tight, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck, fuck—” His grip bruises as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside, filling you up with every last drop. 

For a moment, all you can hear is the ragged sound of your breaths, the faint hum of the engine beneath you, which you just now realize is already parked. 

Yoongi’s hands smooth over your thighs, as you both come down. Then, with a tired but no less shit-eating grin, he pulls out and pings your panties back into place, pressing his thumb at the seam, before he says: 

“Keep it in for me, jagi.”

You should be scandalized. You can feel his viscous load already dripping from you, but you clench. You hold it in as best as you can. Because you’ll agree to anything when he’s like this.

You shudder, pulse still racing as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. It’s gentle—so at odds with what just happened.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, still floating.

He smirks, lazy and satisfied. “My pretty jagi.”

As you rest your forehead against his, still dazed, still blissed-out, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs, “Now, let’s go to this fucking party before I change my mind.”

The party is already buzzing when you arrive, and Yoongi’s hand finds the small of your back, grounding you as he guides you through the crowd. His friends are scattered across the room, a mix of banter and laughter filling the air. 

You’re honestly a little self-conscious after your little car tryst. Is your dress too wrinkled? Is your make-up a wreck? Do you smell like cum?

“Come on,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Let’s go say hi.”

Jimin is the first to turn to you with a playful grin, “So, you’re the one Yoongi-hyung’s been hiding from us, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression equal parts curious and amused. 

Jungkook grins, leaning in for a casual hug. “Hello, Y/N.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but a small, almost shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he introduces you to the rest of the members. Everybody seems friendly, acknowledging you for being Yoongi’s plus one. For the most part, it’s Jungkook who keeps close, chatting with you about Chae and how he’s bummed she couldn’t make it tonight. Cute.

At some point in the night, Yoongi gets whisked away into a circle of conversation on the far side of the room. You hang back, still close but giving him enough space to enjoy his time outside of—let’s be real—babysitting you.

You slip toward the bar, ordering a drink, needing something to do with your hands while you surreptitiously take everything in.

Is that Hwasa? Oh my God, that’s Irene of Red Velvet.

The weight of where you are settles all at once. You knew you’d be surrounded by idols tonight, but knowing and experiencing are two very different things. These are people who command stages, who are revered and respected and admired by millions. And then… there’s you. A glorified office worker who stumbled into this world by accident.

You inhale, shake it off, sip your drink.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, your full government name rings out over the music, a curious voice cutting through the din.

“I heard you were gonna be here.”

You turn, and there he is.

“Jang Yijeong. Long time no see.”

He leans against the bar, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. “Indeed.”

The weight of history sits between you. It’s not bad blood, not really, but there’s something about seeing someone from your past in a space that so obviously belongs to your present that feels a little jarring.

Especially because you suddenly meet said present’s eyes from across the room and the motherfucker mouths, keep it in… and you squirm in your seat as a flush of fluid threatens to trickle down your thighs.

“So, Yoongi-yah, huh?” Yijeong tilts his head, studying you and maybe your odd facial expression right now. “Small world.”

“Yeah.” You shift, inhaling sharply. “So how have you been?”

“Really good. Worked on Yoongi’s last album and tour before his service. Now I’m going back and forth between here and the US, trying to do my own thing.”

“Wow.” You blink, forcing a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

His success doesn’t surprise you. He’s always been talented, always had that drive. But hearing it out loud, seeing how effortlessly he fits into this world—it stirs something unpleasant in your chest.

“How about you?” he asks.

You take another sip of your drink, stalling. “Just boring stuff. I work in the Yongsan municipal office.”

“Oh, you’re still there?” His brows lift, his voice light, but something about the phrasing makes your stomach twist.

Still.

Like you should have moved on by now. Like you’ve been standing in place while the rest of the world surged forward.

You force a small laugh, trying not to let it show. “Yeah, still there.”

Yijeong hums, nodding slowly. “Good thing you didn’t leave.” He gestures toward the other side of the room where Yoongi is now laughing at something someone said, looking so effortlessly cool. “Or else you wouldn’t have met Yoongi.”

And honestly, what do you say to that?

Because he’s right. If you had taken any of the other job offers, if you had made even the smallest change to your path, you wouldn’t be here.

But the way he says it makes it sound like Yoongi is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Like meeting him was some stroke of dumb luck, the one extraordinary thing in an otherwise unimpressive life.

Like Yoongi is a prize you won rather than a person who chose you.

You swallow, looking down at your drink. The ice clinks against the glass, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts forming in your head. Is that what people see when they look at you? A nobody who somehow landed Min Yoongi?

Your fingers tighten around the glass. And suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so warm anymore.

As you make your way back toward Yoongi, a voice stops you.

“You must be the famous Y/N.”

You turn, surprised to see a woman smiling at you, her glossy lips curled into something amused but warm. She’s effortlessly chic, her black dress draped elegantly over her frame.

“Oh,” you say, blinking as recognition sets in. His Mina-noona. You’ve heard Yoongi mention her before—a longtime friend, someone he respects. 

“I’m Mina,” she says, offering her hand. You shake it, feeling slightly scrutinized under her gaze—but not in a malicious way. More like she’s curious, trying to piece together the puzzle that is you.

“Yoongi talks about you,” she adds, eyes twinkling.

Your brows lift slightly. “He does?”

Mina hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Not much, but enough. He’s… different these days.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she muses. “Softer, maybe. More invested.”

Your stomach does a little flip, but before you can fully process it, Mina gives you a knowing look. “You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

The flip turns into a twist. “What do you mean?”

Mina chuckles, shaking her head. “Nothing bad,” she reassures you, waving a hand. “Just… Yoongi’s always been a certain way. Keeps people at arm’s length. Not the type to—” She pauses, then shrugs. “Well. Not the type to bring someone to a party like this.”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but the words settle uncomfortably in your chest. Is she trying to insinuate that Yoongi tends to go for just casual, a typical fuckboi even?

“You must be special,” she adds, smiling. It’s meant to be kind, but it only stirs something uneasy inside you.

You force a small laugh. “I’d like to think so.”

Mina gives your arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “It was nice to finally meet you,” she says genuinely. “Enjoy tonight.”

She disappears into the crowd before you can respond, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

When you glance back, Yoongi is already making his way toward you, casually grabbing a quiche from a passing waiter and popping it into his mouth.

“You alright, jagi?” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, cutting through the noise of the party like a thread pulling you back to him. 

You nod, pasting on a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you’re not. Not really.

Because the moment Yijeong walked away, the thoughts started spiraling. And after that conversation with Mina, it’s like a dull ache has settled into your chest, impossible to shake.

You think back to the office girls months ago, how they teased you when Yoongi first started working in your department. The Blessed One, they had called you. The lucky girl who got to work closely with Min Yoongi. It was all in good fun, lighthearted banter at the time, but now, the words twist in your head.

Do you not deserve someone like him?

Do you not deserve him?

You shouldn’t care what anyone else thinks. You know that. Yoongi is here, with you, choosing you. That should be enough.

And yet, the doubt lingers, wrapping around your confidence like vines, tightening.

A squeeze on your waist brings you back. You blink, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He’s studying you carefully, his gaze flickering over your face like he can see every thought running through your head.

“You sure?” he murmurs.

You force yourself to nod, offering another small smile as you swipe the crumbs on the corner of his mouth with your knuckle. “Yeah… just a little overwhelmed.”

“Let’s get out of here soon, okay?”

You nod again, pressing into his side just slightly, grateful for the comfort he gives so effortlessly. But the thoughts don’t go away.

And you’re starting to wonder if they ever will.

The drive home is quiet, but Yoongi’s hand wraps around yours, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles. The silence feels heavy, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, but you’re still sifting through the evening’s interactions, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Finally, Yoongi speaks, his voice low. “Jagi-ya. I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me,” he says, his tone soft but firm. His hand tightens around yours. “Was it something Yijeong or Mina said?”

You swallow, staring out the window as the streetlights blur past. “It’s not just them, Yoongi,” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s… I don’t know. Tonight, it just hit me how different our worlds are. I mean, maybe I don’t belong here, in all of this. You deserve someone who just… fits better.”

Yoongi stares, confusion etched in his features.

“It’s just, people look at you, and it’s like they’re trying to see if I measure up. I can feel it, you know?”

He lets out a slow breath, his gaze steady and intent. “That’s… don’t even worry about that, jagi. I’m here, because I want to be with you.” 

A rush of gratitude warms you, but doubt still clings, threading through your insecurities.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “Maybe I just need some time to rest.”

As the driver pulls up outside your apartment, he studies you, his brow knitting in concern. “Want me to come up?” His question is soft, unassuming, yet full of care. “I can make you the sriracha grilled cheese sandwich you really liked last time.”

You reach over, cupping his cheek. “Not tonight,” you say, brushing your thumb gently over that little freckle below his eye. “I think I just need a little time. Alone.”

He sighs, long and labored as he presses your hand against his face a little longer before letting it drop. “I don't love this.” He says, his face falling slightly, but he nods in understanding. “But alright,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips staying just long enough to make your heart ache.

“Yoongi…”

“Not that. You don’t call me that anymore…”

Realization hits you. “Baby…”

He nods, eyes moist, and the little wobble of his lips almost makes you want to fold. “Good night, jagi.”

With a final, lingering look, you step out of the car, giving him a small wave as you close the door behind you. The weight of your decision is immediate, filling the quiet of your apartment with the complex feelings from the night. 

As you exhale, you realize you’re left to sort through this alone, the silence amplifying the doubts Yoongi’s reassurance can’t quite erase.

It's 4:12 a.m.

You can’t sleep. How can you? 

You haven’t slept in this bed for days. The scent of jasmine is unfamiliar, when you’ve grown accustomed to sandalwood.

Your memory pillow already forgot the slope of your head.

You flip to your other side, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through your curtains. Just as you’re about to force your eyes shut, your phone vibrates against your nightstand, the screen lighting up the darkened room.

You check the notification and it's him. Of course it is.

Yoongi: you up?

Any other night, you’d laugh at how much it sounds like a booty call. And maybe it would’ve been. But tonight, it’s different.

You: Cant sleep Yoongi: me too

You stare at your screen, thumbs hovering as you figure out what to say next. But another message is already coming through. 

Yoongi: im outside Yoongi: your apt

Socked feet shuffle to the front door. Every step feels heavy, like your body is torn between running to him and running away.

You swing it open to find Yoongi, looking like a kicked puppy. Your heart cracks.

The sight of him like this—eyes tired, lips pressed into a tight line, hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all night—has you clutching the edge of the doorframe just to keep yourself upright.

You let him inside.

“What are you doing here?” you finally ask, voice quieter than you intended.

Yoongi exhales sharply, his hands pushing through his hair before settling at his sides. 

“I’m here, because…” he starts, then stops, shaking his head like he doesn’t know how to finish the thought. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

You can’t breathe.

And then he says, “I love you.”

The words land like a freefall. No hesitation. No takebacks. Just truth.

“Yoongi…” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“I need you to hear it. Really hear it.” He takes a step closer, trembling hands cupping your cheeks. “I love you,” he repeats, softer this time, like he’s willing you to believe it. “I don’t care how complicated this gets. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I told you before, I’m all-in.”

Your heart is pounding, a chaotic rhythm against your ribs.

Because deep down, you already knew.

You knew in the way he looked at you across the office when he thought no one else was watching. You knew in the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, in the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

But hearing him admit it to it like this—like he was physically incapable of handling a possibility where you didn’t feel the same way, where you would’ve given this up, it’s perhaps the most honest thing you’ve ever heard.

And now, the question isn’t whether he loves you.

It’s whether you’re ready to believe that you deserve to be loved like this. If you deserve to be loved by Min Yoongi…

Yoongi barely has time to register it before your hands are in his hair, yanking him down, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s messy, desperate, everything.

He groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist, fingers digging into the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.

You press into him, chest to chest, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. His mouth moves against yours with urgency, his tongue sweeping past your lips, stealing whatever breath you had left.

You don’t stop kissing him. You can’t. Not even as he walks you backwards toward your bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him, his body pressing you against it, trapping you between the cool wood and the solid heat of him.

His hands roam, slipping under your sleep shirt, fingers skimming over your tits, tracing the curve of your spine. Your head tilts back as he trails kisses down your jaw, your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.

“Jagiya,” he mumbles, voice thick, rasping against your skin.

You don’t have any other words right now—not when he’s sucking a wet bruise into your collarbone, not when his fingers slide lower, dancing along the lace of your panties.

So you just say the only thing that matters. “I love you, too.”

A low curse falls from his lips, and then he’s moving you to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you, eyes dark, hungry.

“Say it again.”

His hands slip beneath your shirt, dragging it up. His lips follow, open-mouthed kisses searing a path up your stomach, taking a nipple between his teeth.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice shaky, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him back up to you.

“I love you, jagi,” Yoongi crashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your whimpers as his hands slide down—hooking into your panties—slowly, teasingly, pulling them down. “Let me show you what I mean...”

Chapter Eight >

A/N: Whew! ARe wE GoOD??? The L bomb has been dropped and I am soooo happy because these two deserve the world.

Let me know what you think in the comments. Or do reblog if you are so inclined. <3

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! xo

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[raesangelic]

⋆·˚ ༘ CAN’T HARDLY STAND IT ⋆·˚ ༘

*ೃ༄ Richard “Dick” Winters x Fem!reader

*ೃ༄ Warnings: smut

*ೃ༄ Word count: 2,044

“You got me all tore up, all tore up.”

<——————— -AUSTRIA—————-———->

They couldn’t have picked a better place for us to stay stationed. Even now, while you gaze over the bright blue water, it makes you feel like never returning home.

But it’s not like you have much a choice of where you’re going anyway.

The sound of your pencil scratches the paper held in your lap. Drawing has become a hobby of yours to occupy your mind and keep it from wandering. It works most of the time.

You become so focused on making sure each line isn’t wonky that you almost forget about all the atrocities.

Almost.

A soft knock of the door behind you startles you.

“Y/N?” The pencil held in between your fingers leaps out of your grip and rolls onto the ground. Your eyes pace to the muddy ginger haired man who startled you.

“Sorry.” He says while stepping onto the balcony. His voice is soft, like he interrupted something important. You awkwardly laugh while regaining your posture.

“Don’t be. It’s your hotel room after all.” You tell him while glancing down on the unfinished page in your sketchbook.

He bends down and picks the pencil up from the ground. He looks towards and you meet his stormy blue eyed gaze.

You can’t help but feel entranced in them. Your hand meets his and grazes the calloused skin of his fingertips.

He doesn’t pull away-not right away but when his eyes meet yours, the action dawns on him causing him to retreat his hand back to his side.

He breaks the eye contact and looks over to your sketch book.

“You’re getting better at that.” He motions towards the drawing laying on your lap.

You run your fingers over the lines of pencil.

“Really? I don’t know. I can barely make out some lines.” You trail off suddenly self conscious about the smudges and half finished shapes.

But then he smiles softly and that wards away the feelings of self doubt. He leans against the railing of the balcony and his eye gloss over the horizon.

You place the sketchbook on top of the small metal coffee table next to the chair. You lift yourself up and stand next to Dick. Your hair slightly blows in the wind. The sweet aroma of your perfume has Dick almost hypnotized. He guesses you were gifted it by a local during one of the many celebrations around the town. Vanilla? Maybe, with something else sprinkled in the mix too.

“It’s so nice here. I didn’t know a place like this could exist.” You comment while looking at the mountains in the distance. The sun peaks above the horizon and the scene is truly breathtaking.

Despite the oasis of mountains and bright blue lakes that look straight out of a painting, Dick can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. Not when you’re like this, at peace and happy.

For once, in the few years of knowing you. You looked at peace. Your face wasn’t dirty and your hands weren’t bloody. You looked like a normal woman, one who had not seen the terrifying truth of war.

His eyes lingered for too long and you became aware of them. You turn to him and catch him in his stare. He awkwardly looks away feeling embarrassed but doesn’t let it show.

“How many points do you need?” He cuts through the silence of the atmosphere. You part your lips about to answer but then close them. The hesitancy of your actions tells him all he needs to know.

Dick thinks about placing his hand on your shoulder but he decides against it in fear of you pulling away.

“Too many.” You respond while fiddling with the bracelet clasped around your wrist. “It’s for certain, I’m going to the Pacific.”

The air thickens with tension as Dick’s heart drops. He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he watches you fidget. The slight tremble in your fingers doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t go.” His voice is low and quiet as if him saying it too loudly will make it all the more real. He sharply intakes a breath.

“You should know more than anyone that I have no choice. The only thing that can stop me now is a bullet to my head.” You try to laugh but it just sounds like a caught breath in your throat.

“I’ll come with you.” You turn to him with widened eyes and your mouth agape. You’re quick to disclose the idea.

“No. You earned your points, Dick. It’s time for you to go back to your home.. to your family.”

Dick watches the change in you- the way your shoulders square up and fists clench.

“I can’t let you go alone. You’ll get yourself killed.” He responds while trying to catch your sight. Your eyes glance to everything but him.

They narrow- not in anger but in something heavier.

“Then what, Dick? We both die?” You lift your head up to look at the horizon, where the sky blends into the snow capped mountains. In this moment, you wish you were a bird who could just fly away from it all. No god would ever grant a silly wish like that.

You take a deep breath and look at him. His eyes bore into yours. You can’t look away. “This isn’t some noble story. It’s just survival. One of us gets to go home and that has to be enough because that’s all we’re going to get!”

Your voice strains while the last few words turn into a whisper. You push yourself away from the railing. He reaches forward and grabs you by your wrist.

Before you could say everything you wanted to say, you couldn’t say anything because his lips crashed against yours.

At first you froze, the feeling of his lips are foreign to you, your thoughts stumble over the shock of it. Your breath hitches as the warmth of him seeps in. But then your shoulders relax and the reality of it all hits you.

His hands cup your cheek pulling you deep into the kiss. You feel his thumb gently beneath your eye. A wild rush courses through your veins and ignites a forgotten fire.

He pulls back and you’re left stunned with your heart slamming against your ribs like it’s begging for more.

His lips part away like he wants to apologize for acting on such a crude thing. He couldn’t believe how impulsive he’s being.

He can’t even utter a word as you push yourself forward and against his lips once again but more hungrily this time.

His hands hover over your waist with uncertainty but you grab onto them and place them down. Your lips move together with mounting urgency and longing.

You face your palm on the balcony door behind you and push it open. The morning light spills into the room. He guides you through the room barely breaking away from the kiss. The back of your thighs hit the edge of his bed. You sink into it, the sheets plush against your back. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

He hovers above you, his expression caught in between awe and lust. Your chest rises and falls. The few rays of sun dance across your skin. He can’t take his eyes off of you

“Y/N.” His voice is rough but quiet. You reach up and brush your thumb over his cheek.

“I want this. I really do.” Your hands glide down his back and softly pull up his white shirt and drop it to the side. He shivers at the feeling of your nails on his back.

He exhales slowly feeling the blood rush downwards. His calloused rough hands proficiently work at unbuttoning your top. The fabric parts for him to see your cleavage peaking from the pads of your bra.

He discards your top on the floor. His hands unclip your bra and slowly pulls it off of your skin. He sharply intakes a breath looking at how perfect your breasts are.

You catch him a stare “Is.. is something wrong?” You ask in whisper. He’s pulled out of his thoughts.

“ No.. You’re beautiful.” He bends down and starts to lightly kiss the soft skin of your breast. Your eyelashes flutter watching him. The wetness between your legs increases.

You move your hips up subtly to feel his hard length. Even though you’re both clothed you can feel his dick press against your clit. You sharply inhale a breath while feeling the sparks of friction.

He trails up towards your neck and sucks down on a particular spot that makes you whine. Your hands glide down towards his belt. You carefully unbuckle it and then his zipper.

He feels your hand slide down his boxers and gently trace up his length. He can feel himself get harder but then you pull away your hand. Your eyes catch each other and without a word you nod.

Soon the rest of your clothes are off and his are too. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’m sure, Dick.” You laugh softly and he smiles. He looks down away from your gaze and lines himself up into your wet folds. He slowly pushes himself into you. He lowly groans into your ear. It takes everything in him to not cum right there inside of you.

You whimper while your walls adjust to his length. His left hand is above your head holding his weight above you. The other rests on your hip as he leisurely pushes himself further.

A fog veils your mind. The lewdness of the situation makes your core tighten. Him. Your chest pushes up against his. He pushes your hips up as he thrusts into you.

You’re already a mess moaning at any movement he makes. He starts to set into a steady pace.

Every moan of yours sounds like an angel singing. He thinks of how pretty you look right now with plump swollen lips and half lit eyes. The idea of you makes his mind feel cloudy.

Every thrust he makes has your mound grinding against him, stimulating you without even trying.

His lips press kisses up your neck before resting on your ear. You can hear every moan that escapes his mouth arousing you further.

He picks up his pace and instead of deep slow thrusts he’s turned to fast strokes that has your back arching.

You wrap your legs around him. The filthy noises of skin slapping against each other fill the room.

Major Richard Winters. No. Just Dick. The man who’s stood by you throughout this entire war is now fucking you into the bed. This couldn’t feel anymore surreal.

The pressure builds up in your loins.

He becomes sloppy with each movement he jerks his hips in the right direction which rubs you in just right way.

It sends you over the edge into an ecstasy filled void. Your hips instinctively press further into him as you half hump his dick for more stimulation. Your hands cling onto his back.

“Dick!” You pant out while shaking. He comes undone inside of you letting a loud low groan arise from his lips. Your walls clench around his dick pumping him in a way. His hips twitch and he slowly stops his thrusts.

He stays inside of you for a few moments as you both come down from an orgasm. Your chests rises and falls while he watches you.

He pulls out and collapses onto his stomach next to you. His arm drapes lazily over your body. For a few moments the only sounds in the room are breathing.

He rubs circles onto your stomach. You catch his eyes gazing over to you. You smile as he reaches up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your hair. Dick breaks the silence.

“I’m coming with you. Whether you like it or not.” He says firmly, his eyes are locked with yours with unwavering resolve.

This time you don’t argue even if you’d deeply rather him not to. He’ll do what he wants and what he wants to do is make sure you don’t come home in a body bag.

“Okay.”

[solar-sunnyside-up]

I saw you mention wanting an earth ship, they are super cool and I’m personally going to make my future home kind of an earth ship. I also wanted to mention mud houses and cob houses as they’re a really great option as well. I’ve been doing research on it and they’re very eco friendly and these houses can last hundreds of years if maintained properly. In my research I heard someone mention that using tires in earth ships can have some downsides due to the off gassing of harmful chemicals.

Yea so Cob houses are super cool!! And just like earthships, they are specialized to certain climates just like lots of older style housing. While I think a cob house could be super cool, I also live in a place that goes from -60c to +35c season to season so I wouldn't be able to use one realistically. Which is sad!! Bc look at some of this!

(Theres lots but omg so many of them are ai based I dont even wanna risk showing more then this tbh)

But the joy of earthships are how they can be specialized to regions (there are cold weather earthships now!!!!) And in the reuse of material like glass bottles and tile and wood and stuff. Like yea, a passive house or any other sustainability is great but I wanna make art out of the otherwise un-usable!

That and the idea of building green houses within your house is the other draw, the idea of being able to have own fruit tree inside! The idea of a mini river flowing down the side of my house while it's winter would help me fight sadness in the Dark time (winter)

Now, tires. This has been something that often comes up, and a real worry about the tire chemicals potentially leaking into soil there. Though thetr hasn't been any cases of that in follow up studies at any current existing earthship sites since they first were made in the 70s, this is because they are well encased in cob and impacted with earth basically preventing them from breakdown, but also like it takes Ages for tires to break down anyway like.. 80+ years in exposure type conditions. But!!! Even despite all that, generally they no longer use tires in earthship construction due ti the idea thay earthships are intact meant to last that hundreds of years and they don't want to risk it. Generally we see more metal recycling + hay +clay mixes for walls these days or combos of bricks and other styles of walls.

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous |

Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[unnamednarrator]

hey! about the fluffy dialogue prompts: number 3!!! <3

bet you guys thought i’d forgotten about this! turns out my week off was busier than i normally am at my actual job 💀 also sotr came out so we had to emotional deal/not deal with THAT. anyway, we’re back to semi-regularly scheduled programming!

3. “How come you always end up under my blanket?”

The first time Peeta and I slept in the same bed again, it was the autumn after the war. He’d said something about needing to wear his warmer jacket when he walked back home and it made me say, ‘Don’t do that.’

‘What?’ he’d asked, brows drawn together by a small line on his forehead. His jacket halfway up his arms.

‘Don’t go back,’ I’d said. And when he didn’t say something for a minute, I added, ‘Please.’

‘Okay,’ he’d said, hanging jacket back on its hook and walking towards me. Drawing me into his arms. ‘I won’t.’

After that, he only went back to carry his things over to my house and I went with him. Just a few things at a time. Clothes, baking utensils, art supplies. Eventually, all his things became lost between mine. We’d forgotten to assign different drawers in the bedroom and cabinets in the bathroom to our separate items. Now my socks can only be found in the folds of Peeta’s sweaters, or his gentle hand soap behind the vast selection of shampoos that Flavius left behind one time.

The only thing we don’t share is a blanket. This is at Peeta’s insistence. He said it was easier for him to get up in the middle of the night if he didn’t need to extricate himself from my limbs. Apparently, I’m an “exceptionally prime hogger”. The ridiculousness of that epithet is the only thing that kept me from being angry at him about this setting this rule.

But he must know, and not really care, that I’m terrible at sticking to rules. Because when I wake up, my paisley fleece blanket is nowhere to be found and I’m caught between Peeta’s arm and torso, entirely under his cotton duvet. This is nothing new; usually I’m able to retrieve my blanket before Peeta starts to stir. But when I look up at him this time, he’s peering at me with humour in his eyes, a twist on the corner of his lips.

‘How come you always end up under my blanket?’

I humph, annoyed at being caught out, I guess. But even more so, annoyed that he didn’t say anything before.

‘It’s nicer here,’ I say, burying my face into the warm space between his shoulder and neck. He never smells so wonderful as he does in the mornings. It’s like the blanket has captured his very essence and I’m allowed to inhale him in his most concentrated form.

‘It’s nicer to have you here,’ he agrees, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. ‘Tell you what, let’s not start separately from now on.’

‘It was a stupid rule, anyway,’ I mumble into his skin.

Peeta snorts, hugging me tighter towards him. ‘We’ll make better rules from now on, okay?’

‘First one is that you’re not allowed to leave,’ I say, pressing a kiss to his neck and leaning back to see him again.

He’s smiling in that way that makes the prospect of the darker days of winter feel more bearable. He’s the only person who smiles like that.

He catches some baby hairs by my ear and tucks them behind the shell. ‘Lucky for you, that’s a rule I won’t break.’

‘Very lucky for me,’ I say, before leaning forward to kiss him.

send me a number from this prompt list and i’ll write an everlark ficlet!

[royal-chandler]

temporary/maybe permanent title is winter interlude. written for the lovely @caressthosecheekbones ✨

--

Henry is certain that he's only just fallen asleep when he’s nudged awake, Alex’s soft scratched voice at his ear and his hand giving Henry’s wrist a slight squeeze. Henry’s answer to his name is a long groan. 

“Hen, baby. Can you wake up for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

Henry groans once more and burrows further into the pocket of warmth that’s been conjured from sleep, their thick cloud-like duvet, and Alex’s arms. He keeps his eyes shut and silently, drowsily wishes for Alex to concede. And of course, no such luck.

“I’ve got an amazing idea.”

“That for some ungodly reason can’t wait until morning?”

“It’s uh,” Henry feels Alex slightly shift away, imagines that he’s checking the nocturne glow of their bedside clock, “one thirty-six right now so technically...”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence.”

“Come on,” Alex draws out. He shakes Henry some more, as if he can transfuse enthusiasm through vibration or using Henry like a ketchup bottle that’s been sitting too long. “Come on, we’re losing starlight. Let’s get a move on.”

“Christ, Alex, what for?”

“It’s stopped snowing. We should go sledding.”

Henry snorts, incredulous in the quiet. “Fuck off.”

Clearly Alex has gone bonkers because there is no way on earth that Henry is dragging himself out of bed to charge down a hill of snow on a plastic death trap in freezing temperatures in the middle of the night. 

*

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Henry says, trudging through snow that’s at least twenty five centimetres deep at the rear of the White House. 

At Henry’s side and tugging him and his sledge the last bit to the crest of the hill, Alex says, “It'll be fun.”

“Ah, yes.” Henry nods. Editorialised with bone-dry sarcasm, he continues, “Whenever I think about fun, frostbite is the first thing that springs to mind.”

“It is nowhere near cold enough for that.” Alex brings up their joined hands. “Plus, you’ve got your little cute gloves on. You’re good.” 

The Aztec patterned gloves are secondhand from Alex, dug out of a closet cubby as he had pointedly made sure to mention that they were a gift from his abuela when he was thirteen and no longer fit. 

Alex had also emphasised that Henry didn’t need to give them back. That it was a transfer of ownership. And they are very nice, the fingerless sort that convert into mittens. The yarn stretches comfortably and the pouches slip over Henry’s fingers just right. 

“Everything will be fine,” Alex promises. He reaches out and clicks on Henry’s headtorch. His already lit grin is brilliantly illuminated. “Trust me.” 

“There’s no question of that,” Henry returns. “I only ask why this couldn’t wait for the daytime? You know, how it’s normally done.”

Alex simply shrugs, his grin gentling into something flagrantly affectionate. “Because right now it's like the world is just us.”

And fuck, what is Henry supposed to argue against that?

*

“How are you winning?!” Alex drags his sledge behind him with one hand and wildly gestures with the other. “You didn’t even want to do this. I did not plan on you winning.”

Above him and at the top of the hill already, Henry props an elbow on his now vertical vehicle that’s planted in the snow, watching Alex with amusement. His boyfriend is exceptionally precious when he pouts. “My being reluctant to sledging doesn’t mean I’m not skilled at it.”

“Best of seven,” Alex huffs upon arrival. 

“You have a problem. The terms were already agreed upon.”

“You scared?” 

Alex then proceeds to emit the noises of a fowl.

“Resorting to primary school tactics, are we?”

Alex only lifts his brow, his expression dancing with challenge.

“I'm going to need some proper motivation, darling,” Henry says, sliding on a smirk.

“I could be a victim of clichés and offer mind-melting sex if you win but you get that all the time anyway.”

Henry breaks into helpless laughter and agrees when he finds the cold air to do so. 

“So, instead, how about the next time I’m at the palace I take you up on those horseback lessons finally,” Alex says. 

“Truly? You’ve always seemed—uncomfortable around them.”

“Well they are huge, intelligent beasts that can buck me off and launch me god knows how many miles an hour into the air.”

“Dramatic." He pauses, shaking his head. "Really, Alex. You don’t have to.”

“You love it and it’s something we can do together. I’d like to try it out,” Alex says and he sounds sincere. “If I don’t enjoy the experience, I won't be shy about it.”

“And if you win? What do you want?”

“Here’s where I do get pervy."

"Of course."

"I win and you let me buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson and you wear them for me.”

“Nothing else, I’m assuming.”

“Anything else would get in the way, Henry.”

“You’re on.”

*

Minutes and minutes later, victory is Henry’s and he graciously accepts Alex’s request for a final run, plopping down on the front of Alex’s sledge when he makes a grabby motion for Henry, his legs open. Their combined weight rips them downslope, easily the record of the night. They’re a powdery pile at the bottom when they come to a stop short of the treeline with a sharp turn and tumble off the sledge. 

“You alright?” Henry asks. 

“I should be asking you. You’re the one who cushioned my fall. Am I smothering you?"

“It's all fine for now, love. You’ll be nursing my aching bruises later.”

“Obviously.” Alex animates the line of his brow. “Just call me the love doctor.”

“Won’t be doing that, thanks," Henry comments. Using his teeth—due to most of him being trapped under Alex—Henry yanks back the pouch of his right mitten. He assesses the snarled wreckage of Alex’s hair that’s been freed of the headtorch and clumsily combs through it with chilled fingers. There’s a small scratch by Alex’s temple. Henry thumbs away the paper-cut thin trace of red and finds Alex’s perfect eyes. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

“Me? Never. I lost,” Alex insists, sweetly leaning his head into Henry’s touch. His adoration is spotless if not his honesty. “Life rolls on.”

Henry considers calling Alex out but a shiver distracts him, stalls his tongue. 

Alex’s arms around him tighten and with their physical arrangement, it’s plenty awkward. It’s also loving. He ridiculously presses a kiss to Henry’s wintry-wet palm. “Cold?”

Spellbound, Henry murmurs, “A bit, yeah.”

“I’ve got a way to get you warm,” Alex shares quietly. 

*

Henry moans and licks at his lips, chasing the flavor off his mouth. “This is sinful.”

“I know,” Alex says after a long sip from his UT mug. “Nothing beats Mexican hot chocolate.”

“And the amaretto? Ugh, chef’s kiss.”

“Discovered that little addition four Christmases ago.”

Henry smiles at him and eats another mini marshmallow. “The man’s a genius.”

“Yeah, my ideas aren’t all shit that will have us needing Icy Hot the next day,” Alex replies, his gaze dropping to where their sock feet share the spindle of a kitchen stool.

Henry lightly kicks him. Kicks him again to get his full attention. “Tonight wasn’t shit.”

“No?”

“No.”

Alex sighs, abandons his drink to rub at his stubbled jaw. “Snow felt like—like a fresh start. A renewal, I guess. Getting rid of yesterday. I know it’s not that easy, that it doesn’t work like that and it’s fucking stupid—”

His heart sore and swollen, Henry closes the distance that parts them, hushes Alex’s doubt with a slow and open kiss. He kisses past the cling of sugar and spice, until it’s clean. 

“I love you,” Henry says. His words are only a fraction of what he means but he knows Alex can read the spaces between. Thank you. It helps. You help.

“Love you still. Love you always.” Alex curls into him, his hand over Henry’s knee. 

He’s there. He’s there, Henry knows because he can read Alex’s spaces just as well.

--

please forgive any mistakes. i read over it but it was written very quickly. also, i’m fairly sure there are no hills behind the white house. the grounds are pretty flat but for some reason this fic insisted on being there.

[vendetta-if]

Hello

Winter break is over... and I'm not handling it well 🥲 (plz wish me luck).

But I was hoping that you could write (if you have time) some fluffy facts about Luka and Jackals relationship to counteract the soul sucking parasite that is school and work.

Thats all, hope you have a wonderful day! Byeeeeeeeee

Hang in there, anon and all the other readers 🥺 Time flies and soon it would hopefully be Summer break. And of course, I’d love to talk more about Luka and Jackal 🤭☺️

Luka was the one who ended up confessing his feelings first. It was not planned whatsoever, and one morning, he was just overwhelmed by his feelings and finally acknowledged it. (You can read the side story about it here [part 1, part 2]), if you haven’t 😉)

Even though Jackal has always been pretty insecure about the glaring scar on his lips, Luka has always been fond of it and tried to make Jackal feel more comfortable with it.

During the early days of them sleeping together, neither of them had ever stayed the night. Most of the time, it was Jackal who came over to Luka’s place instead of the reverse, and one night, Luka just grabbed his arm, stopping him from getting off the bed and leaving. Luka was the first one who asked him to stay and against his better judgement, Jackal relented.

Jackal loves laying his head on Luka’s chest and just listens to his heartbeat. His haemokinesis makes it easier for him to feel and listen to heartbeat and he is sure that he would be able to pick out Luka’s in a crowd of other people.

Jackal enjoys being the small spoon (not that he will ever say it out loud). It makes him feel safe and even though he’s more than capable of defending himself, it just feels nice to finally have someone he trusts so much that he can let his guard down completely.

Luka is on a mission to catch Jackal up on some movies that he likes and the ones that he thinks Jackal will like. Jackal’s not a film buff like Luka, but the thing he enjoys the most out of their movie nights is seeing Luka just talking enthusiastically about the movies. He thinks it’s cute that Luka has a dorky side that only he and some people Luka’s close to are privy of.

Jackal usually enjoys making simple breakfast for both himself and Luka whenever he wakes up earlier than Luka, like tomato and egg stir fry with white rice or steamed egg. Is also the one who first introduced Luka to the joy of eating instant ramen. (Jackal’s okay in cooking, but when he was living by himself, he rarely cooked and mostly just ordered takeouts).

Ever since Jackal spends more and more of his time at Luka’s place, Luka has started to pay more attention to what stuff are in his pantry and fridge. He wants to make sure that whatever food Jackal wants to cook or eat is available. Of course, since Luka’s mostly busy, he has relegated that task mostly to the house butler, Sebastian, who also takes initiative to learn cooking more variety of Asian food, specifically Chinese food.

Not sure whether this is fluffy, but I’m gonna include it here anyway 😂 Jackal likes to give Luka some love nips/nibbles hard enough to draw a little blood before kissing and licking it closed. Luka’s just used to it by now and just considers it Jackal’s version of giving hickies, but without actually leaving marks behind.

[notdacota]

A Bond Forged in Silence.

Paul Baumer X GN!reader (platonic)

Paul once saved someone, whom he believed to be just a civilian from an enemy camp, never imagining that this stranger would carry both a secret and a debt. That person was actually a French spy. Cloaked in the guise of an Austrian-Hungarian officer, they got to blend in and get the all the information. Unable to speak directly to Paul without endangering them both, they found another way to repay his gratitude—through small, crumpled notes slipped into Paul’s pocket in fleeting, unnoticed moments.

A/N: Winter once again leaves me sad and gloomy, returning me to writing some silly things based on old books😿😿 really tried to make it close to 20th century sounding, but I'm afraid it

"Confidante" is close friend or associate to whom secrets are confided or with whom private matters and problems are discussed.

"applesauce" is old-fashioned slang for nonsense; bunk.

Paul had grown used to the notes. They were his anchor, his piece of warmth in the endless gray of war. He didn’t know who Confidante was, but he had stopped questioning the mystery long time ago. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the connection—the wit, the silly jokes, the unspoken comfort that came with every crumpled piece of paper he found tucked in his pocket. So, when he slipped his hand into his coat and felt the familiar texture of a folded note, his heart lifted ever so slightly.

Unfolding it, he saw the same messy handwriting that never failed to draw a grin on his face.

Paul folded the note carefully, tucking it away in his jacket. He felt something shift inside him, a warmth that cut through the cold air of the trenches. The note was longer than usual, and something about it felt different— perhaps it was more thoughtful. It was still silly, witty, flaky even, but there was an underlying sense of reassurance in it, as if Confidante had known exactly what Paul needed to hear. And he indeed need it. The war was relentless, a weight that pressed on his chest every day. But these notes reminded him that there was still something good in the world. He leaned back against the trench wall, letting out a long breath.

Paul, my dear friend and unflappable warrior,

Yes, it’s me again. Anyway, how have you been? No fainting lately, at least I hope so... If you’ve been eating stale bread and calling it “supper,” I’ll have to come down there and stage an intervention. You can’t survive a war on air and bad jokes alone, though I do hope my notes are keeping your spirits up. I’ll be honest, I’m writing this one a bit hastily. Things have been busy on my end— not the fainting kind of busy, if you were meaning to ask, thank you very much— just the usual “I have to keep myself from getting in trouble” kind of busy. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t, but trust me when I say it’s a full-time job. That said, I’ll need to take a little break from our delightful correspondence for a short while. Nothing bad, applesauce. Just a... temporary intermission. But I promise you this: I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me. By the time I return, I bet your comrades will have at least three new insults about my handwriting, when they once again slip this note out of your pocket. That’s a guarantee! Oh, speaking of this, I’ve noticed that your comrades seem to think these notes are from some great love of yours. Honestly, I think you should let them believe it. Imagine the calumny! Just tell them, “She’s a mysterious artist who sketches snowflakes and writes odes to misplaced socks.” That should keep them entertained for weeks. One last thing before I go—look after yourself, Paul. Seriously. I know I joke, but the thought of you coughing your way through the trenches makes me want to find you and drop a blanket on your head. Stay warm, stay fed, and stay alive. I’ll be back soon. Don’t ever try to forget me:)

Yours (still very much mysterious), Confidante.

“Don’t forget me,” the note had said. As if Paul ever could.

[bqstqnbruin]

The Party's Over, Go Home

Hello hello here I am with my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!

I had the pleasure of writing for @sc0tters I hope you like it!

Shoutout to @kat-hearts @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby for reading through this and getting mad at me :)

This is inspired by Intrusive Thoughts by Natalie Jane, Deserve by Jake Clark, and the Gilmore Girl's episode from season 5 called The Party's Over

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, family financial issues, this is angst, the spacebar on my computer is starting to break so typos (I tried)

WC: 11k

__________________________________

“We should do something tonight.”

“I was going to go to bed early, actually.”

“You do that every night.”

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“No,” Kendyl draws out. “You stop texting me by like, 8:30 every night. Your phone is on do not disturb half an hour later. Either you’re asleep early, or you’re ignoring everyone by then.”

Ellie narrows her eyes at her coworker. They still weren’t close enough that she felt she could comfortably hang out with the people she worked with outside of the workday. She had only been at her new job for a month, still getting the hang of things, trying to get to know people and figure everything out. Spending time outside her apartment with people who were practically strangers when she could be in her warm bed with her flannel sheets that she loved more than anything on this planet? “I don’t like that you picked up on that.” 

“Well, too bad,” Kendyl says, sitting down on Ellie’s desk. “A bunch of us are going out tonight, so why not?” Ellie hesitates to answer. “If it sucks, you can go home at ten. You’ll be in bed by 10:30, two hours later than normal. And it’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow for you to use that as an excuse as to why you have to get up early, and you already told me that the only thing you planned on doing this weekend was laundry and cleaning.”

Ellie let out a long sigh. Maybe Kendyl did know her well enough to be able to call her out on her shit already. “God.”

“I don’t know if you’re religious or not to know if that’s a yes.”

“Fine,” she says, shuddering at Kendyl’s squeal of excitement. “But you’re buying at least one round and I get to leave at 9:30 if I want to.” 

“Deal.” 

Ellie’s day was full of dread, from spending the rest of work distracted about having to go out with seemingly everyone at her job, so the stress involved with getting ready and trying to look like someone who was actually 24, not the ‘1980’s power boss bitch without the hair and shoulder pads’ as Kendyl had described her multiple times, even down to walking to the bar that Kendyl had picked that felt way too conveniently down the street from her apartment. 

“I’m surprised you even had someone convince you to go out,” her younger brother, Alex, says on the other end of their phone call. As soon as he saw Ellie leaving her apartment on Find My Friends, he called her panicked that something was wrong. “You never went out in college. I had to beg you to go to that one party the time I visited you.”

“That’s because you were still seventeen and Mom would have killed me if she found out you went.”

“She knew I was going to try anyway.”

“I’m going out because I was promised free drinks and the prospect of going home early if I want to. It’s not like I’m being forced to go out against my will.” 

“I promised you free drinks.” 

“Alexander.”

“Eleanor. Just be safe, ok? Let me know when you get home.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“If I were Mom, I would be yelling at you for not wearing a jacket.”

“How do you know I’m not wearing a jacket?”

“You never wear a jacket. Mom has been yelling at you about that since you were five.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, a sudden chill coursing through her when she realizes she can see her breath. “How is Mom, have you checked in on her?’

“Yes, Ellie.”

“In person?”

“Yes, Ellie. She’s good. At least, she says she is.” 

The two of them stay on the phone in silence for a moment, knowing what he really means. Ellie and Alex hated the topic of how their mom was doing, but if they didn’t talk about it with each other, who else did they have? Their mom and Alex still live in the same area even if Alex was away at college and living in a dorm rather than with her. Ellie was on the other side of the continent now, for a job that she barely had any friends at, in a city she still barely knew, surrounded by things she wasn’t used to. 

“Hey, I’m outside the bar now, I’ll talk to you later?” she ends the call, taking in one last deep breath before heading into what she was sure was going to be 

“You came!” Kendyl yells once Ellie finally manages to get into the bar. “Here’s the first drink.”

Before Ellie could even tell Kendyl she wasn’t ready yet to start drinking, the drink was pressed to her chest and nearly spilled down the front of her. Despite it being early enough in the night that no one should be drunk by now, Kendyl and the rest of her coworkers seemed to be well on their way with Ellie needing more drinks than she could count to catch up. 

The night goes by slowly, the drinks going away fast, and Ellie sitting in the corner while her coworkers, who are obviously close, talk about a bunch of inside jokes from before she was hired that Ellie was unable to participate in.

“Remember when he ordered the wrong cake?” Wesley slurs, punching Doug in the shoulder.

“I swear she told me to say, ‘Happy Retirement,’” Douglas defends himself.

“It was my 28th birthday, not my retirement?” Hazel says, everyone except Ellie bursting into a fit of laughter.

“What about when Sammy dialed 911 during the meeting?” Kendyl adds through wheezes, the remains of her drink nearly spilling on Ellie’s shirt, again.

“It fell out of my pocket and bounced weird!”

“How does a bouncing phone dial 911?”

“That’s the set up to a bad pick up line.”

“More like the setup to a story that makes no sense,” Ellie mutters, thankful that her coworker's howling laughter was too loud to hear her.

She gets up from the table, draining her drink on her way to the bar. It was only 9:15. She promised Kendyl 15 more minutes. The least she could do was down another drink in that time before pulling her classic Irish exit to go home and get in bed. 

“Rum and coke?” she asks once she gets up to the bar, the sticky wooden counter acting as anything but inviting for her to lean on. 

“Me, too, and put it on my tab,” someone says behind her, Ellie’s face immediately turning sour at the thought of some guy buying her a drink to probably get her to hook up with him.

“My friend is paying for it, actually,” she turns to him, surprised to find a seemingly innocent-looking guy around her age and not the middle-aged gross man she thought he would be. Anything was possible, and looks can be deceiving.

“Which friend, the one who almost spilled her drink on you or the one of the ones who have been ignoring you the entire night and letting you sit in silence while they have a good time around you?”

“I already don’t like you.” 

“My friends pointed you out and said you were me when they drag me out to bars.”

“So you’re the friend who they barely know and who they only invited out of pity?”

“That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” he says, the pink rushing to his cheeks as he turns away out of embarrassment. “Sorry, um. I’m going to go sit down now.”

“You haven’t gotten your drink yet,” Ellie points out, his sudden bashfulness making Ellie soften for him. “I just moved here. I don’t really know any of them too well.”

“I know what that’s like,” he tells her, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re not from here, either?”

He shakes his head. “Born in Orlando, moved to Boston, then moved to Toronto, and kept going from there.” 

“That sounds unstable,” she says, passing one of the newly appeared glasses of alcohol to the guy in front of her.

He shrugs, lifting the drink to his lips. “Well, they say you are a product of your environment.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, the first one that she had let out all night. “That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” she repeats, the pink returning to his cheeks again.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Depends on how long we keep talking.”

“Hopefully it lasts past tonight.”

“It can’t if you don’t tell me your name. I’m Ellie.”

“I’m Quinn.”

Ellie loses count of how many drinks Quinn gets her, how long they’re talking, and when all of her coworkers leave the bar, not even telling her that they were leaving without her. 

She could feel the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her body, the bar getting busier the longer she and Quinn stood there. Someone shoves in between Ellie and whoever is behind her, pushing her into Quinn’s arms without her being able to catch her balance. His hand falls to the small of her back, spreading out to hold her steady. They stood there in silence, the rest of the bar a world away from them. 

“Are you ok?” Quinn whispers in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. 

Ellie stammers for a second, trying to process what just happened. The alcohol was making everything foggy, and the room starting to spin slightly around her as if Quinn was rocking her back and forth. “Um, I, yes?”

His eyes flickered down to her lips, the distance between them closing with each additional person, he was so close to kissing her. 

“I should go home,” Ellie says before he can, knowing that kissing him now would not be a good idea for either of them. 

His grip on her doesn’t relax, the disappointment Ellie expected to show up on his face not there at all. “I’m walking you home,” he tells her, slipping his hand into hers before she can protest. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to.” 

The difference in temperature between the bar and outside hit Ellie faster than she could process it, her lack of jacket her brother had scolded her for earlier biting her in the ass harder than the cold was in the moment.

Ellie didn’t even process Quinn taking off his own coat, the one she didn’t even realize he had been wearing the entire time, and putting it around her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. 

She was on autopilot, unsure how she managed to navigate her way to her apartment when her mind was on Quinn’s body pressed against hers. She just met him. She didn’t know much about him. She didn’t even know what he did for work and only knew that he had two brothers who lived in New Jersey even though that wasn’t one of the places that he mentioned living before. 

“Here,” Ellie barely gets out, surprised with herself for managing to get back to the right place. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” Quinn asks, shoving his hands in his pockets when he finally lets go of her. 

“No, it’s fine.” 

Ellie goes to take off the jacket and give it back to him, the warmth something her drunk self quickly realized she was going to miss. “No, keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” Quinn tells her, pulling his things out of his pockets before turning away to head off.

She stands there for a few seconds, trying to process what had happened that night. 

“Wait, no,” Quinn says, appearing again in front of her. “I can’t leave without getting your number first.” 

“I couldn’t even tell you what my number is right now,” she admits, handing him her phone instead.

Quinn laughs, putting his number in. “I want to see you again, Ellie.”

She smirks at him. “We’ll see, Quinn.” 

___________________

“What do you mean you’re not bringing anyone?”

“No one said I had to bring anyone.” 

“Everyone brings someone. You have to bring a date to the holiday party.”

“Then why was one of the options on the RSVP ‘no’ to the question ‘will a guest be accompanying you?’”

Kendyl whines, earning a cringy look from Ellie. “You have no one you can bring?” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, leaning back in her desk chair. “Let’s see, I’ve been here for like, what, two months? I knew no one when I got here, I hate going out and don’t have anywhere to meet anyone, and somehow none of you here know anyone either. Who would I bring?”

“What about that guy you met at the bar that one time? I see his name popping up on your phone all the time.”

Ellie snatches her phone from her desk and holds it against her chest as Kendyl cranes her neck to see that her statement is actually fact, three messages from Quinn, a fourth appearing while they were talking. “You need to learn what a boundary is.”

“And you need to learn what the Focus feature is on your phone when you’re showing me things because his name always shows up.” 

She couldn’t invite Quinn to the party. She barely knew him, she couldn’t throw him into the party with a bunch of her coworkers who she also barely knew, putting her phone back on the desk without thinking. “He’s probably busy.”

Kendyl rolls her eyes, snatching Ellie’s phone from her desk before she can protest, fiddling with it while Ellie tries to process what could possibly be happening in front of her. “He’s not.”

“What?”

“He’s not busy.” 

“Ken, what did you do?” Kendyl hands Ellie back her phone, a quick conversation with Quinn on her screen, ‘Ellie’ asks him what he was doing the night of the holiday party and he immediately answers that he is free. “Why are you like this?” 

Kendyl shrugs, slowly backing away from Ellie’s desk. “You had fun talking to him at the bar, enough fun that he responded to you within seconds of being asked if he was free.” 

Ellie looks back at her phone as Kendyl finally leaves her alone. The whole idea of having to bring a date seemed archaic in a way that Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Why did she have to bring someone she barely knew to a party with more people she barely knew?

But she really did know Quinn better than she was letting on. She still didn’t know what he did with his life, him weirdly making her promise not to look him up, which made Ellie immediately question if he was a serial killer. He wasn’t, allegedly, but that still didn’t make sense. 

She knew that he was from the States, went to school there until he left early for whatever job he had. He has two younger brothers, and apparently is known amongst his friends for looking like he was having a nonstop existential crisis, while also being nicknamed ‘Huggy Bear.’ She also knew that he was sweet, and listened to her when she went off on a tangent about something, him following right along and matching the energy she had. She knew that she wanted to see him again every night since she had met him that first time, and that he wanted the same thing.

His name came up on her phone, a call from him. “Hi, sorry, it’s easier to talk than text right now.”

“Why are you out of breath?”

“Workout.” Must be nice to have a job where he can just go and work out in the middle of the day, Ellie thinks to herself. “So, the 18th?”

“Yeah,” Ellie lets out, suddenly nervous. It felt like she was asking him for something much more serious than just going with her to an office party. “It’s the holiday party for my company, and apparently everyone needs to bring a date.”

“And you want me to find you one?”

Ellie’s jaw drops at his comment. “No, idiot, I wanted to bring you.” 

“Oh, thank god. I was running through my friends who would go and none of them are good enough for you.”

Ellie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks at his comment. Did he consider this a date? Was it a date? Was it bad if she considered it a date and he didn’t? What if he didn’t? Why was her mind running at a mile a minute while Quinn was there on the other end of her phone waiting for her to say something else? “So that’s a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes. It’s one of the few nights I have off, I want to spend it with you.”

The next days went by in a blur, Ellie freaking out over everything from what she was going to wear, texting and calling Quinn even more, wishing that they could see each other sooner.

“It’s not obsessive, is it?” she asks Kendyl, staring at herself in the mirror. Kendyl insisted on coming over to Ellie’s place to get ready, telling her that her roommate had their partner over that night and the last thing she needed to do was try to use the bathroom to get rid when they had a habit of taking it over for more than a few hours.

“No, El, you just like him. I think it becomes obsessive when you start to stalk him and you show up to where he works unprovoked.” 

“Why do you say that like you’ve either done that or you’ve had that happen to you?”

“I’ll let you decide which one is better. What time is Quinn coming?”

“He’s supposed to get here in ten minutes.” 

“Just breathe, El. You’re going to have fun.” Kendyl left her to finish getting herself ready, her date already waiting outside to take her to the party. They could have all gone together, as pointed out by Kendyl, but it was better to not throw Quinn directly into the fire that was her closest coworker. 

Ellie’s phone starts ringing, not checking but expecting it to be Quinn calling to tell her he was early. She pops out of her seat to head to the door, picking up the phone and answering with an excited “Hi!”

“Eleanor?” 

Ellie stops in her tracks, her mom’s voice coming over her phone speaker. “Mom?”

“Sweetie, can you do me a favor?” 

Ellie felt her heart drop to her stomach, already knowing what her mom was going to ask her. It was the same thing that her mom always asked since she first got a job when she was in high school, every time she answered the phone while she was getting her degree, no matter where Ellie was in her life, it was never a call that a mother should have to make to one of her children this often. “Mom,” she lets out, knowing that she couldn’t say no.

“Please, Eleanor. I need the money. I, I-” 

“Mom, you promised,” Ellie cuts her off, not wanting to hear anymore even though she knew her mom would keep going.

“I thought I would get a raise before they sent the eviction notice this time.”

“Mom,” Ellie says, more exasperated this time. “You have to stop doing this. You do this to me every time.” 

“Alexander can’t help this time.”

Ellie heard a knock at her door, not even processing the fact that she should be looking through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t a murderer, opening it, and letting whoever it was in. Thankfully, it was Quinn, waving him in and motioning to give her a moment.

“Alex is still in college, already struggling because you’re no help. He shouldn’t have to give you anything in the first place.”

Quinn stands there, clearly uneasy at listening to only Ellie’s end of the conversation but following Ellie into her room regardless. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed while he watches Ellie continue to get ready. 

“But you said last time that I couldn’t ask you again.”

“I didn’t mean for you to ask my little brother.”

“Eleanor, please. He’ll have nowhere to come home to. I’ll have nowhere to go home to.”

“What happened to everything you had last time I asked you?”

“It went towards all of the other bills, I promise. I’ll send you every confirmation for every bill I have.” 

“You’re not lying to me this time?”

“I’m not, I swear!”

“How many months did Alex cover?”

“Only half of one month.”

“How many months are you behind?”

“I swear I used everything I had to pay-”

“Mom, how many months are you behind?” Ellie knew she was raising her voice, forgetting that Quinn was even behind her. She stopped putting her makeup on at this point, knowing that the tears that were about to fall were going to ruin what she had already on, anyway. 

“Four.”

“Fuck, Mom.”

“Please?” her mom’s voice comes through, small and on the brink of breaking. “I know I’m still paying you back from last time. But what else am I supposed to do?’

“I’m sending it now,” she tells her, hanging up before her mother could say anything else. Ellie forgot Quinn was standing there in her doorway, putting her phone down on her vanity and putting her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

Quinn clears his throat, causing Ellie to jump. “Should I go?” he asks, creeping into her room.

Ellie wipes the tears from her cheeks, cursing herself mentally for now having to redo the makeup she already took too long to do the first time. “Uh,” she stammers, “No, no. I’ll be ready in a second.”

“Ellie,” Quinn kneels on the floor next to her, gently placing his hand on her thigh. “We don’t have to go to this.” 

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“El.” 

Ellie finally turned to him, the genuine concern on his face causing her to burst into tears. He reached up and pulled her close to him, his one hand on her back, the other holding her head on his shoulder, letting her cry on his white shirt. She hears him let out a quiet shushing noise, trying to comfort her in the way she had needed for so long. She cried for so long that she didn’t know how much time passed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers when she finally stops crying, not moving from their position. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She never told anyone about the stuff with her mom. Ellie had been holding it in for years, going from friend to friend, place to place, never letting this out with anyone who wasn’t her younger brother, the one person who would understand and who she knew also understood what it was like. 

But there was something about Quinn. She thought she could trust him, for whatever reason. She never told her ex-boyfriends in college or high school, despite the fact that this had been going on since then. 

Ellie takes in a deep breath. “The only people who know this are me, my mom, and my brother, do you understand?” she asks him, watching him nod. “It started, I think, when my dad left. I was probably 10? Alex was 6, maybe?  I don’t even remember, honestly. This probably started before Dad left, Alex and I think it’s why he left. But our mother is absolutely shit when it comes to money. Like, put us in debt every few months that then somehow fell to us as her children to bail her out.” 

“God,” Quinn lets out, Ellie continuing over him.

“I think we realized it was getting bad when she told us we were moving somewhere smaller right before I was starting high school, out of the blue, when we had already moved to ‘somewhere smaller’ three times in four years. Normally she said she had been planning it because we, of course, needed somewhere to live, and she didn’t like where we were, but that was weird. I didn’t realize it was because we had been evicted every single time until I found the seven eviction notices my second year of high school from the last three times and a notice that we were getting evicted that year, too.”

“Ellie, I’m so sorry,” he tells her, pulling her back in for a hug. 

She sighed, knowing that there was nothing more he could say. “At this point it’s normal, it’s just still frustrating when she tells me and Alex that she’s fine and that she has the money for everything, and then out of nowhere, tells us she hasn’t paid the rent for her current place in four months. Like, do you know what it’s like to have your mother owe you nearly a hundred thousand dollars because of how much she keeps needing?”

“I can’t even imagine.” The two of them sit in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to do next. 

“I’m glad you can’t. It fucking sucks,” she says, turning back to her vanity mirror. “God, I don’t even want to go to this stupid party anymore.” 

“Hey, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay here, we can go to my place, we can go somewhere else, we can do anything.”

“We?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie. I came tonight because I wanted to spend time with you,” Quinn tells her, taking her hand in his. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you wherever you want.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“Ellie, I want to be with you.” 

___________________

“Kendyl, I told you, I’m hanging out with Quinn and the rest of the guys tonight.” 

“Can I please come?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“But you’re dating the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks. You have to bring your best friend along with you.” 

“Alexander can’t come tonight either.”

“Ok, rude.”

Ellie was already nervous about meeting Quinn's teammates. It had taken a while for her to wrap her head around that he was not only a hockey player, but a professional one, and the actual captain of the team. Honestly, she didn’t see it coming. She had heard so much about Elias and Brock that she felt like she knew them at this point. She hadn’t even met them. As close as she had gotten to Kendyl in the last six months she spent at her job, and as much time as they spent together outside of work when she wasn’t with Quinn, she didn’t need Kendyl mixed into the group. 

“Let me meet them first, then we can talk about you meeting them, ok?” she tries to assure her, hearing a knock at her door. “I’ve gotta go, Quinn is here.”

She hangs up on Kendyl before she can protest, slightly worried that she would use the ‘Find my friends’ feature to just stalk the house they were going to and end up on the doorstep uninvited. 

“Hi,” she opens the door, stopping for a second to take him in. God, she hated how hard she fell for him in a short amount of time. He was perfect to her at that moment. 

He pulled her in for a kiss, one that made her wish they were staying in rather than heading to spend time with his friends. “Hi,” he whispers, kissing her again before pulling away. “You look amazing, as always.”

“I’m wearing jeans and a sweater,” she counters.

“And?” He could say anything to her with that stupid smile on his face and make her swoon. “Ready?”

They head out to his car, Ellie’s heart racing as they get closer and closer to Thatcher’s house. She wasn’t great with meeting large groups of people all at once, despite being in a new school nearly every year of her awkward teenage years and being forced to interact with new people every time. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, resting his hand on her thigh as he drives down the highway, giving her a gentle squeeze to try to calm her down. “You’re going to like the guys. And they’re going to love you.”

“Yeah?” she says, her voice shaking slightly. 

“How could they not?” he asks, taking her hand and bringing to his lips, his eyes glued to the road in front of them so he couldn’t see her melting at his words and his touch. “You’ll get along great with Elias.”

“He’s the one from Sweden?”

“Yeah,” Quinn tells her, pulling into the driveway of a house so massive Ellie wasn’t sure people could actually live in it. It was certainly bigger than anything she could have ever dreamed of being near, let alone being invited to. “He’s got kind of a dry humor. You’ll like him.”

Ellie takes in a deep breath, feeling incredibly inadequate just getting out of his car and standing on the pavement of a place like Thatcher’s house. Maybe she should have invited Kendyl. 

Quinn takes her hand, pulling her along to the door when everything inside her was telling her to turn around and just run. There was no way she was good enough to be in this house, not with everything in her life, not when Quinn and his teammates had everything they could possibly want at the tips of their fingers. 

He stops at the door, pulling her close to him, dropping her hand, and cupping her face to kiss her again, calming her immediately. “Hi,” he breathes when he pulls away.

“Hi again. What was that for?” she asked, his hands slipping down to her waist, sending a shiver through her entire body as he traced her sides. 

“I’m going to want to do that so many times tonight, but I know the guys will tease us for it. I’ve gotta do what I can now.” 

That shouldn’t have made her feel the way it did. He could say or do anything at this point and she would melt. 

They go inside, the house loud and full of people despite Quinn telling her that it was just supposed to be a ‘small get-together.’ Everything in the house looked expensive, Ellie’s anxiety immediately spiking. She followed Quinn blindly through the house, all of his teammates talking to him and him introducing her to all of them while she stood there nearly mute over the sheer stimulus overload that was all around her. She barely noticed the drinks that found their way in hers and Quinn's hands, drinking once she saw Quinn drinking it, as well. 

“Elias is right over here,” he whispers in her ear, his hand still in hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as he leads her off into one of the side rooms. The room was quieter, the lights dimmer, and had a lot less people than any of the other rooms. 

“You got here half an hour ago and you’re just making it in here?” one of the guys asks as she and Quinn sit next to each other on the couch. “Ellie, you have to get him to go faster through the greetings next time. I cannot be left alone with Brock for this long.”

She looks at Quinn, confused as to how they already know her name. 

“You know I have to say hi to everyone, I’m captain.”

“As captain, you should be able to do one big greeting and let that be it so you can seclude yourself in a separate room where you don’t have to talk to everyone else,” one of the other guys said.

“Every time you talk, Brock, you add more to the long list of why you would make a horrible captain.”

“I would be a great captain.” 

“Elias, Brock, jeez.” 

“You know you can’t leave us alone for too long.” 

Ellie gets lost in their conversation, not even being able to contribute to what they were saying because their verbal sparring is so fast and so specific to their history with each other, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Quinn puts his arm around her, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He looks at her while Brock and Elias continue bickering, smiling at her and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. 

The guys interrupt them, jeering and teasing them to the point where Ellie has her face buried in Quinn’s shoulder, trying to hide from the embarrassment. “So, Ellie, what do you see in El Capitan here?” Brock asks, giving the most obnoxious facial expression possible.

“You do not have to answer that,” Elias tells her. “Brock has no idea how to interact with anyone, just ignore him.”

“That’s not true.” 

“You thought a good pick up line to use on a girl was ‘you dropped something, my jaw,’ the other night and then were shocked when she just turned and walked away,” Elias says, earning a laugh from Ellie and Quinn.

“You have definitely taken a girl out on a date and then talked about yourself the entire time,” Quinn adds, Brock shrinking further into his seat. 

“You look like the kind of guy that would go to a bookstore and pretend to look lost to see if a girl would talk to you,” Ellie adds, sending the guys into a frenzy. 

“He wouldn’t have to pretend to be lost,” Elias says, poking a pouting Brock in the leg. “You should come around more, Ellie.”

“She’s spent too much time with Quinn already,” Brock whines, Quinn pulling her so she’s practically in his lap, kissing her cheek.

“I told you,” he whispers, just loud enough for only her to hear. “I need you to come around more, too.” Ellie turns to him, her cheeks burning before they both burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible.”

The four of them fall into an easy conversation, the three boys doing everything they can to make Ellie feel included, not shying away from teasing her like they were each other earlier. She felt comfortable. 

Ellie eventually excused herself to go to the bathroom and get more drinks for her and Quinn, the alcohol finally hitting her. She barely finds her way back to the room the guys were in, Thatcher’s house seeming much bigger now that she wasn’t sober and much harder to navigate without Quinn taking her around.

She didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, standing on other side of the opening without them seeing her.

“Brock, I swear, if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t be able to blow your fucking nose,” she hears Elias say, stiffling a laugh as Brock mumbles something about not meaning to spill his drink on Elias.

“Anyway,” Quinn grunts, sounding like he was getting off the floor.

“Ellie is awesome, by the way,” Elias says, Ellie sure she missed some sort of segue that could have led the conversation from Brock to Ellie.

“She’s snarky,” Brock adds, Ellie hearing a smack and Brock letting out a cough. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

“I met her by accident but I cannot think about what it would be like without her now,” she hears Quinn say, Ellie trying to figure out if she actually heard him right. That sounded like he was much more serious about her than she thought he was. 

“Woah, Quinn,” Elias says. “You met her a few months ago.”

“God, I know,” she hears Quinn let out. “But you know how you just know sometimes? You run into this person one day and they just make your life better?”

“You guys made my life worse since I met you,” Brock mutters. “I say goodnight to her every night and I can’t wait until I can say good morning to her the next day.” 

“You’re a simp.”

“Can you blame me? She’s perfect.”

Ellie finally enters the room, trying her best to pretend that she didn’t just hear everything Quinn told his friends, the ones he told her he would trust with anything. It had to mean something that they already knew who she was before coming and that he could tell them those things unprovoked.

Quinn lights up at the sight of her, giving her another kiss and wrapping his arms around her when she sits down. “You took a bit,” he comments. 

“This house is confusing,” she lies.

Elias and Brock continue to bicker while ignoring Ellie and Quinn. Ellie eventually finishes her drink, along with the third one that Brock had managed to hand off to her at some point, sinking down so her head was in Quinn’s lap.

“How often do you think about the future?”

“I mean, I’m normally thinking about what I’m making for my next meal once I finish the one I’m eating.”

Ellie groans, their hands intertwined and in constant movement, suddenly regretting how much they had both had to drink. She looks up at him, a smile on her face despite the look on his that told her he had absolutely no thoughts behind those eyes. “Like, us in the future. Our future.”

“Huh,” Quinn starts, “I don’t know. I like us right now where we are.” 

Ellie nods, trying to hide the disappointment that she felt. Why could he tell Elias and Brock what he thought about her, but not tell her? He hadn’t even called her his girlfriend to her face, yet. Were they even boyfriend and girlfriend yet? Was it too early to even ask, or should she even ask at all?

They were staying over at Thatcher’s house at this point, neither of them in the position to drive, Elias and Brock electing to stay on the couches. Quinn pulls her up and kisses her, a yawn escaping her after he pulls away. “Want to head to bed? Thatch said we can snag one of the guest rooms.”

Ellie nodded, Quinns hand in hers as he lead her down the hallway. She should be nervous, the first night they were spending together completely unplanned and in one of his teammates house instead of somewhere special. 

But it was with Quinn.

She was fine.  

___________________

“When are you going to be ready?” 

“When I am.”

“You’re taking way too long.” 

“I am not taking too long, you got ready too quickly.”

“Kendyl, I took an hour to get ready to meet Quinn and his friends, and you started getting ready before I got here,” Ellie groans, lying down on Kendyl’s bed. The group chat Ellie had with Quinn and the guys was blowing up, asking where Ellie and Kendyl were. After meeting Kendyl a while back, Quinn was convinced she would be the person to set Brock straight. Ellie wasn’t convinced, but what was the harm of introducing them?

“I’m meeting a Canuck, tonight, El, I have to look good.”

Ellie sits up, looking at Kendyl in her mirror. She knew her friend was nervous. No matter what she could say, nothing would change. “I promise you, you could wear nothing more than a trash bag and Brock would be drooling over you.” 

Kendyl took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“Ken, you’re beautiful. You’re funny. You can verbally spar with anyone to get what you want at any time. If you decide you want something to happen with Brock, there’s no way he wouldn’t agree to it.”

Kendyl nods, finally getting up and grabbing Ellie’s hand and her coat to drag her out the door. 

“Are we sure we’re going to have fun?” Kendyl asks, the shaking in her voice something Ellie had never heard before.

“You sound like me now.” It was still winter in Vancouver, the below freezing temperatures combined with the warmest bar appropriate outfits they had not enough to actually keep them warm as they walked through the city to meet all of the guys. 

“What are they like? I only know Quinn.”

Ellie has to stop and think for a moment. How did she even begin to describe them? “I think you just have to wait and see. Quinn is nothing like them.” 

“Oh, my god, you hate your boyfriend's friends.”

“No, what?” Ellie asks, unable to hide her laughter. “I really like his friends. I’m getting closer with Elias and Brock is definitely good for a laugh when you need it.” 

Kendyl nods, both of them shivering as they walk. Quinn had such a warm jacket, Ellie thought back to the night the two of them met. She wouldn’t have been able to see herlife with Quinn coming. She thought Kendyl was just an annoying coworker, Quinn would be just a hook up, and that she would end up having to move home because of her mom and Alex. She never thought it would be this. 

They get to the bar after feeling like they were walking forever, Quinn making a beeline to Ellie as soon as they made eye contact. “God, I’m happy you’re here,” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Wow, you’re already drunk,” she points out, trying to push him away slightly. Quinn had told her they were going into a break in the season, so getting drunk was necessary. She had seen him a little drunk, more tipsy than anything, but never like this, and never in public. “Let’s get you some water, babe.”

Quinn lets out a giggle, slinging his arm around Ellie while she focuses on him instead of getting Kendyl over to Brock. She looks around the bar for her friend, or at least one of the guys to hopefully help her make sure he doesn’t go much farther than he already was with the alcohol. 

“Ellie, right?” she hears from behind her as she sets Quinn down at the booth in the back where the rest of the guys were seated. She turns around, one of the new guys in the office standing behind her, glass of beer in hand. 

“Uh, yeah, hey. Dylan, right?”

“Declan, actually,” he corrects her, a quick apology escaping her lips. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw Kendyl over by the bar and she mentioned you were here. I wanted to say hi.”

Even though it was darker in the bar, Ellie swears she saw him blushing, fidgeting and acting nervous in front of her. The guys didn’t seem to notice she was even standing there, but Declan seemed to be trying to take in everything about her. 

“Are you here with anyone?” she asks, feeling Quinn pull her into his lap, Ellie falling without an ounce of grace down towards him. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Quinn, and some of his friends.”

“Uh, hi,” he says, Ellie feeling Quinns arms wrap tighter around her as Declan talks, “I’m here with my roommate, but I lost him about half an hour ago.” 

“You should join us then,” Quinn says, moving him and Ellie further into the booth to make room for Declan. The tone in his voice told her he really didn’t want to do that. 

Kendyl finally comes back with drinks, Quinn taking the beer that was meant for Ellie and downing it much faster than he should have. Brock was already captivated by Kendyl as soon as she sat down, Elias rolling his eyes as he was making a fool of himself, Kendyl finding it weirdly endearing.

“So, Deacon,” Quinn starts, much louder than he should have been. “How do you know my girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Declan says, as caught off guard by Quinn’s sudden shift in mood as Ellie is, “I work with her. Just started about a month ago.”

Quinn nods. “What did you do before this?”

“I was a nurse in the ICU at Vancouver General.” 

“Couldn’t handle it, Derek?” 

“Quinn, what?” Ellie scoffs. 

Declan coughs, clearly getting uncomfortable fast. “It was a lot, so no. I liked helping people, but seeing traumatic thing after traumatic thing takes a toll on you really fast. So I went back to school and ended up with Ellie and Kendyl.” 

“Ah, a college degree.” 

“Quinn,” Ellie hissed. She didn’t like where this was going, Quinn holding on to Ellie like he was marking his territory. 

“I actually don’t have my degree, yet.”

“Interesting thing to brag about?” Declan says, nervously sipping on his beer. 

“Well, it’s hard to finish when you get called up to play with the Canucks, you know?”

Declan shrugs. “Is that the CFL team? I don’t follow sports.”

Ellie gets off Quinns lap, pushing Declan aside and dragging Quinn along with her. She didn’t need to hear what Quinn was going to say next. He was starting to act like a jackass and she didn’t want to see more. 

The two of them end up outside, the cold hitting Ellie like a slap in face. “What is wrong with you? He wasn’t doing anything for you to act like that to him.”

“I don’t like him,” Quinn pouts.

“You just met him.”

“I don’t like people who are trying to take my girl.”

Ellie can’t help but scoff. “‘Take your girl?’ What, am I your property? Did you get a good dowry? How many sheep did you have to give my family in exchange for your hand?”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ellie.”

“No, Quinn, you come on. He wasn’t hitting on me. He doesn’t even know me to like me.”

“Of course he likes you, Ellie, look at you.” Quinn takes a step closer to her, suddenly getting softer towards her. “You’re so pretty. You’re so smart. You know what to do with everything.” 

“If he likes me, that doesn’t matter,” Ellie snaps, still annoyed with him. “I don’t like him. I like you. I’m dating you. That should be enough for you to not act like an asshole towards him.”

Quinn hangs his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“You should be saying that to him.”

The two of them stand there in the cold in silence, Ellie not wanting to budge and Quinn wanting her to go with him. “Come with me?”

Ellie bites her lip, her mood ruined because of him in just a short amount of time. “I think I’m going to go home. I’m tired, anyway.”

“Let me walk you?” Just like the night they met.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

They stand there for another moment, Quinn making the first move to pull Ellie in for a kiss. “I love you, Ellie.”

Ellie hadn’t been thinking about love with him yet. She wasn’t there yet. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she told him, turning and walking away, leaving him there on the sidewalk.

___________________

“Have you ever loved anyone?” 

“Uh, you.”

“Not that kind of love, idiot.”

“Oh, um. I was in love with Tess Virtue for a while there.”

“While I get that, I still don’t mean that kind of love, Alex.” 

Alex laughs on the other end of the call, Ellie getting ready for work while he got ready for class. “El, you’re the older sister here, aren’t I supposed to be asking you this?”

Ellie and Quinn were in a weird place since Ellie left that night. She had hoped that Quinn was too drunk to remember that he had told her loved her and Ellie’s response was just to walk away. She didn’t know if she was in love with him. She knew she wanted to be with him. She didn’t know if she loved him.

“I mean,” Ellie starts, not sure where to go. 

“Are you and Quinn ok?” Ellie tells her brother everything that happened, Alex staying silent for a few seconds after she finished. “Ellie, you did this last time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not to go psychology major on you,” Alex says, earning a groan from his sister, “But I think you’re more messed up from Dad leaving than you like to admit you are. You have what sounds like a solid relationship with this guy but you’re afraid that if you let him love you and you let yourself love him, that he’s going to leave just like Dad did. He left us with Mom and we never got that love back.” 

Ellie takes a deep breath. “Jesus. At least I know your degree is worth it.” 

“I could be wrong. I’m only six semesters into this degree, after all.”

“I hate you.” 

“I love you, too, El.” 

Everything goes back to her parents. There’s no reason she couldn’t love Quinn. 

She was in a daze on her commute to the office. Does she love him? Regardless of Alex’s psychoanalysis, even if their dad leaving them with their mom made her think anyone who would love her would leave, is she able to love him?

She wanted to be with him, but she didn’t know what it was like to love him.

“You look horrible,” Kendyl says, Declan trying not to make eye contact with her at their little desk clump, probably trying to not agree. 

“Thank you, for that,” Ellie huffs, dropping her bag on the floor before she falls into her chair. “I just had a weird morning. Don’t really want to talk about it.” 

The morning passes by in a blur, the menial tasks of her job at least giving Ellie something to take her mind off Quinn. Anytime her mind would start to wander, anytime she thought about him in any way, she would just switch back to work mode and force herself to do whatever it is she needed to do.

“Hey,” Ellie thinks she hears from behind her, someone sounding just like Quinn. She ignored it, figuring it was just her imagination and her officially losing her mind over what was going on in her relationship. “Babe?”

Ellie jumps, thoroughly surprised that Quinn was actually standing behind her. “I thought you were leaving for Florida today.”

Quinn pulls her up, kissing her hello, a soft look on his face that told Ellie that everything was ok. “We leave in a few hours, so I wanted to come by and surprise you. Do you have a minute?”

Ellie nods, following Quinn down to the lobby of the building. She knew that if she went somewhere in the office, Kendyl would probably have her ear glued to the other side of the wall of whatever room they were in to try to listen to their conversation. 

“So, you don’t love me,” Quinn lets out slowly, pausing a little between each word, breaking Ellie’s heart each time.

“God,” she lets out.

“It’s ok.” They stand in silence, what they had with each other when they first met already somehow dying off between them. “I’m ok.”

“I want to love you. You know I have other things going on that are messing with my mind. You know me.” 

Quinn rolls his eyes, Ellie taking a step back. “What, the stuff with your mom?” Ellie gives him a small nod. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse, Ellie,” he snaps.

Ellie recoils at his words, the person in front of her not the same one who told her would always be there for her when she needed him, that he would help if she would let him and that he wanted to be there, for her and with her, for everything. This was someone who wouldn’t do any of that. “It’s not an excuse. It’s my life, Quinn. You grew up never having to worry about coming home from school and learning that the lights were turned off, or getting scared that the heat would get cut off in the middle of the winter, or that you were two days away from living in a car,” she nearly yells at him, catching him off guard. “I’m sorry that it messed me up and I’m trying to fix it and at least be honest with you about it because I want to be with you.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you idiot. I want to be with you. But I don’t know what it’s like to be loved by someone who stays. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone who wants to stay. I think I love you, but I don’t think that my work is the place to figure it out.” 

Quinn smiles at her, hugging her and holding her tight, every part of her relaxing as he does so. “That’s all I need. That’s all I want.” 

___________________

“Ok, if we have to stay all night, then we’re ordering food.” 

“I never agreed to staying all night.” 

“Ellie, we have to get this done before we go home.”

“Yeah, but I have plans tonight. I’m not staying all night, extra pay or not.”

Declan groans, a stupid smile on his face. “Are you driving to these plans tonight?”

Ellie gets a bad feeling in her stomach, one that puts a smile on her face regardless. This project had forced them together much more often than Quinn probably would have liked if he found out. The client was demanding it be done three weeks faster than anticipated,which meant they had to get it done before Monday. “Nope. Why?” Declan gets up from the table the two of them and Kendyl are sitting at in the conference room to give them more space to spread out, running over to his desk and yanking one of the drawers open. “Dex, what are you doing?” Ellie calls.

The three of them had already been in the office much longer than everyone else, the rest of their colleagues having left early for the weekend while the three of them stayed behind.

Ellie had plans with Quinn that night for the first time in a while.

“Getting this,” Declan says, pulling her out of the spiraling thoughts she was having about her relationship.

He holds up three plastic red cups and a bottle of rum, the one alcohol that Ellie could stomach without any mixer, a sociopathic tendency as Kendyl would call it. “Why is that there?” Kendyl asks.

Declan shrugs, popping open the bottle with ease and pouring way more than a single shot into each of the cups. “One of the clients gave it to me as a thank you.”

“We never get alcohol as a thank you,” Ellie scoffs, Kendyl agreeing.

“Men,” Kendyl rolls her eyes.

Declan laughs, raising his cup to Ellie and clinking it against hers, downing it in a few seconds as he watches Ellie do the same. Both of them cough, the liquid burning down their throats much more than they were expecting, neither of them breaking eye contact with each other while forgetting Kendyl was there with them. “Alright, we work until we’re done. We refill when we need to.”

Ellie smiles at him, the warmth of the alcohol already coursing through her. Her phone starts buzzing, a call coming in from someone whose contact she can’t quite make out. “No phones.”

The three of them get to work, the sun setting without them realizing it as their phones keep buzzing over and over again. They weren’t even entirely sure what the project was that their boss was asking of them, but then again, when were they ever?

They had to have been working for at least two hours straight without moving, feeling like they hadn’t even made a dent in the amount of tasks they had for the project. “I need to go home,” Kendyl groans, rubbing her hands over her face.

“We need to finish this,” Ellie points out.

“We need more alcohol.” Declan gets up, already somehow emptying the bottle into their three cups. He winks at Ellie, yet again ignoring Kendyl and sending a chill down Ellie’s spine before heading back out of the conference room without another word. 

Kendyl squeals once he’s out of earshot, shaking Ellie’s arm. “Oh, my god, he is so obsessed with you.”

“He is not,” Ellie insists, the heat running to her cheeks at the thought of her coworker liking her. She’s dating Quinn. Dating a coworker is out of the question. Dating Delcan isn’t even a thought.

“Ellie, I’m not even here when he’s around. You two are flirting so much.”

“I’m not sure you know what flirting is.”

“What about Quinn?”

Ellie’s stomach churned at his name. “Quinn and I are fine,” she tells Kendyl, trying to ignore how high her voice got involuntarily. 

“El.”

“Ken.”

“You’re lying to me.” Ellie bites her lip, hating that Kendyl knew her well enough to tell. “What’s going on with you two? You were off last time I saw you together.”

Ellie sees Declan out of the corner of her eye shifting around the desks outside the conference room. “I have no idea.” Kendyl stays silent, Ellie feeling like she has to fill the space. “We see each other less and less now, part of it because of both our jobs right now.”

“Well, that makes sense, that happens.”

“But when we do spend time together, we don’t say anything. We barely talk anymore at all. It’s like we ran out of things to say.”

“Who has nothing to say?” Declan interrupts, plopping down in his chair with another bottle of rum.

“Ellie and Quinn. Why do you have another bottle?” Kendyl asks.

“I have many bottles. Who’s Quinn?” 

“Ellie’s boyfriend.” 

Declan just nods, giving Ellie an uneasy feeling as they both take a sip of their drinks again, the eye contact between them mixed with the alcohol making her mind spin. “We’re just going through a weird phase right now. We’ll get through it.”

Kendyl recaps what Ellie told her, unprompted, to Declan, who infuriatingly just sits there, the alcohol making him look way too attractive for Ellie’s liking. “You don’t want my opinion, do you?” he asks.

“Kendyl gives me hers all the time when I don’t want it, you might as well give yours.”

“You’re both busy. That happens.”

“See?” Ellie prods Kendyl. 

“But,” Declan starts again, Kendyl sticking her tongue out at Ellie like a child, “Being busy could also mean not being willing to make time for each other.” 

Ellie took in a deep breath, hating what he was saying. It wasn’t like he said that much, but he said enough. The room suddenly felt too small, the work too overwhelming, the alcohol hitting her all at once. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she says, practically running out of the room. 

Are she and Quinn not making enough time for each other? Are they just ending their relationship without saying that it’s over? She didn’t think she wanted to break up with him, but at this point, what was staying with him doing for her? 

Ellie looks at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol distorting her perception of herself or if it was the mirror that probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while, but she didn’t look like herself. She looked off. She had felt off for a while, but she had no idea why. 

Was it because of Quinn? Ellie had heard that to be loved was to be changed, but what happens when you don’t like how you’ve changed? How much should she fight to get things back to the way there were when they first started seeing each other? What has to happen for her to just give up instead?

“Hey, sorry,” Declan startles Ellie, causing her to lose her balance and stumble against the sink. “I’m sorry that I upset you.”

“No, uh,” Ellie starts, wiping a tear from her cheek she didn’t even know had fallen, “You didn’t upset me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Declan’s voice is gentle as he takes a step closer to you, waiting for her to nod. “If you aren’t happy, why are you still with him?”

Ellie shrugs, not wanting to look at him. If she looks, she’ll fall apart. “I love him. I do. He knows me better than anyone. I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone outside of my family, not even Kendyl. But sometimes,” she takes in a breath, her voice shaking. “Sometimes I wonder if it was all for nothing. We have no time for each other anymore. I see Kendyl more than I see him.”

“Ellie,” he says, his voice low as he steps closer to her. She was sure he could hear her heart racing. 

She was dating Quinn.

Quinn.

“Oh, fuck,” Ellie practically yells. “What time is it?”

“Uh, 8:30.”

“Quinn was picking me up at 8:15.” Ellie runs from the bathroom, leaving Declan calling after her. She grabs her stuff from the conference room without saying a word to Kendyl. 

She hears Declan in the background, calling after her as she runs down the stairs, dropping things in the stairwell that she doesn’t bother to pick up. She was rattled, Quinn already waiting for what had now become twenty minutes without her so much as texting him back the entire time.

Declan catches up to her, everything she’s dropped in his hands when she bursts through the front door of the building, Quinn’s car at the curb with him leaning against it scrolling on his phone. He looks up, his eyes going between his disheveled girlfriend and the one guy that she talked to that he was worried about, equally out of breath and carrying her things, both of them looking panicked.

He could tell Ellie was drunk. He knew she was drinking with him.

“What is this, Ellie?” he asks, trying to keep a calm tone in his voice as best as he can.

Ellie starts stammering, the alcohol not helping her at all. “We were doing that project I told you about, we lost track of time. I know I’m late but I wasn’t looking at my phone so we could finish as fast as possible.”

Quinn takes in a deep breath, looking up to the sky so he didn’t have to see her reaction to what he was about to say. “Ellie, I know he likes you. I told you likes you the night I met him. And, I know you like him, even if you don’t realize it yet. What am I doing here?”

Ellie steps toward him, her legs starting to shake as she tried to process what he was saying. “Quinn, you’re taking me out. You said we were meeting the guys tonight.”

“No, Ellie. I am. You’re gonna stay here.You’re gonna finish the project. You’re going to spend the night with Declan. You should be with someone who has time for you.”

“Quinn.” 

“We’ve both been busy. We’ve both had way too many things going on to focus on each other. We deserve better. You deserve better.”

“Quinn,” she repeats, standing right in front of him. She reaches up to his cheek, him leaning into her touch as he finally looks at her. “What are you saying?”

“You know, Ellie.” 

They stand there, forgetting Declan behind them and ignoring the world around them. Quinn cups her cheeks, kissing her like he did the very first time. “Bye, Eleanor.”

“Bye, Quinn,” Ellie whispers, not wanting to let go. 

Everything happened so fast. Ellie stood on the curb, wanting to drop her things right on the sidewalk and chase after him as he got in his car and drove away. She didn’t move as Declan came up behind her, gently putting his arm around her to try to comfort her. She didn’t hear him say that he wanted to get her back inside so that Kendyl could be with her, so that she’d have someone she trusted to talk to after what just happened.

She just stood there. 

___________________

Quinn was miserable. The guys were all with their partners, while Quinn sat in the middle with no one by his side. All he had was the beer in front of him that he didn’t even want to drink. 

He should be happy. They were already having a great season. They had already secured a playoff spot. The team was playing to have fun and winning was coming because of it. 

Brock comes up to him with Kendyl, the two of them still going strong. Quinn liked Kendyl, but seeing her still reminded him of Ellie, even if the two of them didn’t work together anymore. 

“Come on, buck up. There are plenty of girls here that you could at least talk to,” Brock tries to encourage him.

Quinn just shrugs him off, slowly turning the glass of beer around on the table. He wasn’t in the mood to be there, but there was no way the guys would let him leave this early. 

Brock leaves to get another round of drinks, Kendyl staying behind. “She’s doing ok, you know,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

Quinn sighs. “I miss her.” 

Kendyl puts her hand on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

They sit for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. What do you say to someone who was still broken over something that should have never shattered in the first place?

“Hey, isn’t that that Dexter guy you work with?” Elias comes over and asks, pointing to the other side of the bar. 

Quinn feels the air escape his lungs, Ellie and Declan together, Declan holding on to her as a guy moved past them, pressing their bodies against each other. She didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to drape her arms on his shoulders, getting up on her toes to kiss him, their foreheads pressed together when they pull away while they looked at each other like they were the only people in the world. 

“She’s happy,” Kendyl says. 

“She’s happier,” Quinn corrects her, his heart breaking at the fact that he couldn’t do that for her. 

[hplonesomeart]

Why bro looking like that /j

Personal update thing (skip reading if you’re just here for the Puzzle art. I’m not going to drag everyone into my life. Especially if it’s a rant about trivial things that don’t matter that much in the end lol. I just enjoy personal journaling and expressing my mental state whenever I feel stuck. This isn’t really a public notice for everyone, it’s more like talking to myself):

I might be going through some kinda art block right now I don’t quite know…just wish I wasn’t feeling as sluggish/lazy with how I spend my time. Lately it feels like it’s a chore to try and get myself to draw anything. It’s like my body and my mind are trapped in slow motion; I can barely get changed into normal clothes, eat breakfast, or get out of bed in the morning. Even when I manage to draw it’s like the art I’m currently producing looks bad. Maybe my brain suddenly forgot how to draw his head proportions? Looks off model and it bothers me. Maybe I needed to use more references? Suppose I could chop it down to being a stylistic choice but even so—feel like I could do better :P

So I’ve been taking a break. But if I start playing video games for too long (specifically I’m trying to get into playing Momodora—I have a history with my past friends trying to introduce me to the game ages ago. I never got myself a copy until this Christmas) I feel like I’m wasting time I could’ve spent animating. No matter how I choose to spend my time it always feels a little wrong. I believe it’s the subconscious pressure of having a short Winter Break. I start school again in January and I’m really not looking forward to it. Throughout this 2024 school year I started getting lightly scolded by my parents for animating instead of studying or focusing on work. So my brain adapted to doing this oh so “helpful” (sarcasm) thing where it shuts down the desire to animate or draw when it’s preparing for school. And yet when I’m IN school suddenly all these animation ideas happen and when I’m OUT of school with all this free time it goes “lol nope don’t feel like doing it.” Is this what executive dysfunction is like…? Or is that different?? I don’t know but it’s kinda frustrating.

Anyways here’s the low effort Puzzle art I sloppily made. I don’t like how it looks but hey beggars can’t be choosers….making any amount of art is a miracle at this rate. No matter what it’s extra drawing practice at the very least. I was just goofing around with the glitch effects & chromatic adhesion. It’s nothing special but complaining about it won’t get me anywhere, so we keep moving forward instead 👍