#believe me when i say i've been staring at these for like twenty minutes now oh my god i love them

[ash-r0see]

GOING SO VERY INSANE I WOULD LIKE TO SHOW YOU ALL THE STICKERS I GOT!!

please ignore the very clear and awkward grip I have on my phone it was the only way I could think of to show my phone case 😭

these stickers are from @potato-lord-but-not !! check em out they're so cool :3

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I��m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[killiaia]

Brat.

For @dav1233555.

Huh Yunjin x Male reader. 2.1K words

TW : Brat Yunjin, needy Yunjin, ass play, ass licking, car sex, daddy kink, slut kink

" Stay focus ! " shouts the choreographer.

You nod and get back in place. You do the dance step again and this time, the choreographer is happy. 

You can't take it anymore. You've been training for hours. But that's the price you pay for doing this job.

As a dancer for LeSserafim, everything has to be perfect. So you continue training without saying a word.

You approach Yunjin and begin to dance with her for her solo part. Yunjin puts her arms behind your head and you grab her waist. The young woman leans back and you spin her around.

Yunjin straightens up and sticks her back to you. You lean back and Yunjin follows your movement. 

With your hands on her hips, Yunjin undulates and pushes you away. You return to your place at the back and continue the choreography with the other dancers.

"Stop, that'll be all for today. " 

The choreographer steps towards you.

"You have good synergy with Yunjin. Keep up the good work. "

You thank him and see Yunjin wink at you. You ignore him and continue your discussion with the choreographer. 

He announces the end of training and everyone leaves the room, happy to be finished.

You pick up your things and realize that only you and Yunjin are left in the room. 

Yunjin locks the door and lunges at you. She grabs your face and kisses you. 

"That was so sexy, our dance. "Yunjin says.

"I don't mind having your ass glued to me. " 

"I felt your erection when we were dancing. "

You kiss her and your hands grab her ass. Yunjin moans and her hands caress your abs. You pull your hands away, however, earning a protest from Yunjin.

"Believe me, I'd love to fuck you right here but I'm starving. "

Yunjin bursts out laughing and rests her head against your chest. You kiss the top of her head.

 "I'm inviting you over. What do you feel like?" You ask Yunjin.

"I'm dying for some fast food. "

"Fast food it is. Meet me at the parking lot in ten minutes. I've got my car. " 

You kiss Yunjin one last time and leave the room. On the way to the parking lot you pass some trainees. You wave to them and continue on your way.

You walk down to the parking lot and get into your car. You wait a few minutes and Yunjin arrives.

You unlock the door and Yunjin gets in.

"Ready, baby?

"I'm ready. "

You start the car and leave the agency. 

"Any news about your tour? " You ask your girlfriend. 

"We're going on a European tour. I'm so excited! "Yunjin replies enthusiastically.

You're so happy for her. The girls have worked hard to get this tour. 

"You girls deserve it. "

Yunjin kisses you on the cheek and you place a hand on her thigh. You caress her thigh and see Yunjin biting her lip out of the corner of your eye. 

You let out a small smile and continue your movements on her thigh. You feel Yunjin grab your hand and pull it up towards her crotch. You stare at the road and let Yunjin play with your hand.

Yunjin runs your hand up her skirt and you feel the fabric of her underwear. Playfully, you slide your hand under her panties but stop just in front of her vagina. 

Yunjin protests and you turn your head. The young woman's eyes are closed and her mouth is open.

"Do you want me to touch you? " You ask playfully.

Yunjin nods vigorously and your finger grazes the folds of her pussy.

"I'm driving baby, I can't finger you." 

"Pull into an alley and fuck me. " 

"No no. We'll eat first. "

"Please. I'll be your good girl. "

"You're already my good girl. " You reply firmly.

You remove your hand from under her skirt and Yunjin lets out a sigh of displeasure. 

"Come on baby we're eating and I'll fuck you afterwards. " 

"I want it now! "

"Don't be a brat! " 

Yunjin crosses her arms and turns her head out the window.

"Baby. " You sigh.

Yunjin doesn't answer and you sigh again. You look at the GPS and see that you'll arrive in twenty minutes.

"Are you that horny ? "

"I want your cock! " Yunjin replies. 

"I'm driving Yunjin. I promise after I eat, I'll take care of you. "

"I want your cock now! " 

Annoyed by your girlfriend's attitude, you take off your seatbelt and pull out your cock.

"Since mademoiselle has decided to be a brat, you're going to suck my cock now. " 

Yunjin turns directly to you, happy to have your cock but you stop her.

"You have exactly 15 minutes to make me cum or you'll get nothing tonight. " 

Yunjin nods vigorously and you let her grab your cock. Yunjin wastes no time and engulfs your cock. 

The young woman moves back and forth with her mouth and damn it you swear you can cum now. 

Yunjin goes wild. She grabs the base of your cock and jerks you off as she continues to suck you.

You concentrate on the road but it's hard with the view below the steering wheel.

"Damn Yunjin. You're so good with your mouth. " 

She doesn't respond, far too busy sucking you off. You look at the GPS and announce. 

"10 minutes, baby. "

Yunjin takes things in her stride and moves her mouth lower, taking one of your balls into her mouth while continuing to jerk you off. 

It's getting harder and harder for you. You're about to cum and Yunjin increases the pressure on your balls.

You turn your head and the sight of Yunjin's ass in the air makes you salivate. 

"Fuck it. " 

You pull up Yunjin's skirt to her surprise and grab her ass. Although surprised, you see Yunjin grab her panties and pull them aside. In the reflection of the glass, you see her holes.

Your finger approaches her asshole and you start making circular movements, causing Yunjin to moan.

Yunjin speeds up the movements with his mouth and you do the same with your finger.

"Cum in my mouth Daddy. "

You abandon her hole and grab her head to help her suck you off.

"Fuck my mouth. I'm your fucking whore. "

You impale Yunjin on your cock and cum in his mouth. The orgasm is so intense you nearly crash the car. 

Yunjin stands up, her mouth full of your cum. She looks you straight in the eye and swallows. She opens her mouth and shows you that she's swallowed it all.

"I've won. " Yunjin proudly announces.

You look at the GPS and see that you'll arrive in two minutes.

"You've won. " You nod feverishly as you park not far from the fast food joint. Happy with her victory, Yunjin removes her panties and sits on top of you. The friction of her pussy with your cock sends shivers down your spine.

"So tonight, you're going to fuck me. " 

Yunjin puts her panties in your pocket and opens the car door.  

"Come on, let's go eat Daddy. ".

You watch her drive off in the direction of the fast food restaurant. Yunjin turns and winks at you. This girl is going to be the death of you.

---------

"God this burger is good. " 

You can only agree with Yunjin. This burger is delicious. You've ordered so much, you'll probably take some home. 

"Happy? " 

"I'm happy." 

Yunjin flashes you a smile and you wink. The meal goes well until Yunjin drops something under the table. She asks you to pick it up and you do. However, as you search under the table, you see nothing except that Yunjin has pulled up her skirt to show you her pussy. 

You quickly straighten up and give her a dark look. 

"Yunjin! " You argue with her. 

"Yeah?" The young singer asks innocently. 

"Don't be a brat! We're in public! "

"Don't care. "

You pinch your nose and stand up. You see the panic in Yunjin's eyes, the young woman wants to say something but you cut her off. 

"Put the food in your bag, we're going home. Since you want to be a brat so badly, let's go home. I'm going to fuck you. "

Yunjin grabs the food and puts it all in her bag. She grabs your arm and you take her to the car. You get into the car and drive off. 

Luckily for you, and especially for her, your apartment is only a few minutes from the fast food joint. Once there, Yunjin climbs the stairs two at a time. You look up and see Yunjin lifting her skirt to show you her pussy. The young woman quickens her pace and climbs the stairs. You follow her slowly and Yunjin is waiting for you at the door. 

"Hey Daddy. " 

You say nothing and just open the door. Yunjin walks past you and the young woman doesn't waste a second. She takes off her skirt and top. She takes off her bra and runs into the bedroom. You watch her as you take off your shoes. You take off your shirt and join her in the bedroom. 

Yunjin is lying on his back, legs spread. The sight of her pussy is magnificent and makes your mouth water. You reach into your pocket and pull out Yunjin's panties. You toss them to her and Yunjin gives you a questioning look.

"In your mouth. " 

Yunjin says nothing and opens her mouth. Supporting your gaze, she inserts her panties into her mouth.

"Good girl. " 

You kneel on the edge of the bed at the level of her pussy. You breathe in the scent of her pussy and start with a big lick that makes the young woman shiver.  With your fingers you spread the folds of her pussy and continue licking. 

Yunjin moans. Her moans are muffled by the panties and you continue the assault on her pussy. Yunjin tries to close her legs around your head but you push her away.

"Don't you fucking move. You've been acting like a brat all day. "

To complete your words you insert a finger inside her as you start to lick her clit.

Yunjin wants to say something but the panties in her mouth prevent her from doing so. You spread her legs wide and an idea occurs to you. You reach down with your mouth and spread her bottom with your hands.

Without warning, you start licking her asshole. 

Yunjin arches her back and you increase the pressure by shoving your tongue up her ass. Yunjin can't take it anymore and with her hand starts touching her clit. You continue your assault on her ass and Yunjin accelerates her hand movements.

You sense that the young woman is about to cum, so you quickly switch holes. You pull your head up and lick her pussy.

This is what Yunjin needed to cum. The young woman arches her back and lets out a hoarse cry, muffled by the underwear in her mouth.

You stand up and look at Yunjin. Yunjin is a mess. Breathing hard, hair a mess and cheeks flushed, this is not Yunjin the idol before you, this is Yunjin the brat.

You place a kiss on her clit, making her moan, and you climb back up onto her sale, her healthy, and kiss her at last. Yunjin grabs your face and shocks your lips together. 

You pull away from the kiss and whisper to Yunjin.

"On all fours, I want to cum. " 

Yunjin complies and gets down on all fours. The young woman buries her head in the mattress and spreads her ass for you.

"Good girl. "

You take off your pants and waste no time shoving your cock inside her.

"Oh yes baby. Fuck me I'm your slut."

You don't feel like playing that. You want to cum and punish her for being a brat all day. You grab her hips and plunder the singer's pussy. 

You slap her ass and Yunjin moans.

"Slap me. "

You slap her ass again and Yunjin accelerates the movement of her pelvis. You do the same and all we hear is your moaning and the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

"I'm going to cum in your pussy and you're going to keep my cum in it, is that clear? "

"YES!"

You speed up your movements, the bed creaks so much you think it's going to break. 

"I'm going to cum!!! " Yunjin moans. 

You grab her buttocks and start plopping them. 

"Cum bitch!  "

That was just what Yunjin needed. You feel the vaginal walls tighten around your dick and it doesn't take much to cum too.

You push your cock deep inside her and Yunjin flows out under the weight of the orgasm and your thrusts.

You're lying on top of her, breathing hard and still with your cock inside her.

"Kiss me Daddy. " 

You respond by grabbing her face and kissing her hard. 

You pull out of her and stand up. The magnificent view of her ass and pussy might just get you hard again.

You slap her ass and say.

"Next time, I'll fuck your ass."

Yunjin responds by spreading her buttocks.

[brunettemarionette]

Idiots Together

💜 pairing. Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

🔮 summary. Eddie's been acting weird and you confront him but when he blames his attitude on being '"tired" you don't believe him.

🌙 tw/ none. just fluffy goodness.

✨ wc. 1.5k

You've noticed it for a while now—Eddie's been acting strange. Since the two of you started hanging out more outside your usual group alone, there's been this weird tension in the air.

It's not the usual kind of weird, either. It's not like the typical Eddie Munson weird, where he rambles about Dungeons & Dragons or talks about the latest Metallica album with that wild look in his eyes.

No, this was different.

Right now, you're sitting on the worn couch in Eddie's trailer, your legs pulled up underneath you as you watch him pace back and forth across the living room.

He's restless, his fingers fidgeting with the rings on his hands, and you can't help but feel like there's something he's not telling you. He hasn't cracked a single joke in the last twenty minutes, which is unheard of.

You lean back into the cushions, crossing your arms. "Alright, spill it. What's going on with you?"

Eddie freezes mid-step, his back turned to you. He's been avoiding eye contact for most of the night, and now he just stands there, staring at the ground.

For a second, you think maybe he didn't hear you, but then you see his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

"I don't know what you mean," he mutters, but there's something in his voice—nervousness, maybe? You've never heard Eddie sound nervous before, not like this.

"You've been acting weird," you say, cutting to the point. "Like, really weird. You're not joking around, can't sit still, and won't even look at me. So, what's up? Did I do something wrong?"

That last part hangs in the air, and you instantly regret saying it. Of course, this couldn't be your fault, but still… part of you wonders if Eddie's mad at you. Maybe you've said or done something without realizing it.

Eddie finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes catches you off guard. There's something raw in them, something vulnerable like he's been holding back a dam of emotions, and it's on the verge of breaking. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says quickly. "It's me."

That's not the answer you expected, and you raise an eyebrow, trying to make sense of what he's saying. "What do you mean it's you?"

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. "I haven't been sleeping much, okay? I'm, like, sleep-deprived out of my mind right now."

You tilt your head, not convinced. Sure, Eddie always looks a little rough around the edges, but he doesn't seem like he's about to collapse from lack of sleep.

There's something more, and you can tell he's avoiding it. "Eddie," you say softly, "I know you. This isn't just about not getting enough sleep. Come on, talk to me."

There's a long pause where Eddie stares at you like he's debating whether to say whatever he's been holding back. Then, suddenly, the dam breaks.

"I always had the biggest crush on you," he blurts out, and your heart skips a beat. "I've had this stupid, massive crush on you for, like, forever. And I don't know how to act normal around you right now because I'm freaking out, okay? That's why I'm being weird. It's not you, it's me. I just… I don't know how to do this."

You stare at him, your mind racing to catch up with what he just said. Eddie Munson—your best friend, the guy who's always been the dorky, playful one who's never taken anything seriously—has a crush on you?

"Eddie…" you start with a slight whisper, but he interrupts you before you can say anything.

"I know it's crazy," he says, clearly frustrated with himself, running both hands through his hair. "I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to make things weird between us. But I'm tired, and I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. You're my best friend and deserve to know the truth."

You're still trying to process it all, but the one thing that stands out to you is the look in Eddie's eyes. He's scared—…scared of how you will react, scared of losing you, or whatever this could mean for your friendship.

And in that moment, you realize something: maybe you've always felt something for him, too, but you never let yourself acknowledge it. You get up from the couch and take a step towards him. Eddie watches you carefully, his heart in his throat, waiting for whatever comes next.

"Eddie," you say softly, "you don't have to be weird around me. It's okay." You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. The relief that washes over his face is immediate, and he finally smiles for the first time all night.

Maybe things will be a little different now, but you have a feeling it will be okay. After all, Eddie's always been there for you, and now it's your turn to be there for him—no matter where this might lead.

Eddie stares down at your intertwined hands, his fingers curling instinctively around yours like he's afraid to let go. You can see the tension start to melt from his shoulders, but his eyes still hold that uncertainty—the kind that makes your heart ache just a little.

"You really mean that?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper as if he's still trying to make sense of what just happened.

You nod, offering him a smile. "Yeah, I do. I mean… you're my best friend, Eddie. And maybe…" You hesitate for a moment, feeling the warmth spread through your chest, "maybe I've been feeling the same way. I just didn't realize it until now."

The words hang between you, and Eddie is completely still for the first time tonight. His dark eyes widen, searching your face for any hint of doubt. But there isn't any. The more you say it, the more certain you are—it's like all the pieces are finally clicking into place.

He breathes, almost like he's been holding it in for hours. "Wait—really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" His puppy dog eyes stare at you as if begging you not to break his heart.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No, Eddie. I'm not just saying it. I've been thinking about it, and I think maybe I've always felt something for you, too. I just… I guess I was scared of messing things up."

His expression softens, and that familiar mischievous glint returns to his eyes, a hint of the Eddie you know and love. "So, what you're saying is, we've both been idiots this whole time?"

"Basically," you say, grinning. "but I like to think we've always been a couple of idiots." Eddie chuckles, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Well, then, I guess we're both idiots together."

You step closer, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. There's no awkwardness now, no tension, just the two of you standing in his tiny living room. Like this has always been where you were meant to be.

And then, without warning, Eddie gently cups your cheek with his free hand, his rings cool against your skin. His eyes meet yours, and there's no hesitation this time. Slowly, carefully, he leans in.

The kiss is soft and tentative, as if he's still afraid this might all be a dream. But the moment your lips meet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world—like you've been waiting for this without even realizing it.

When you pull away, Eddie's grinning like a kid, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them. "Well," he says, his voice low, "I wasn't expecting today to end like this."

You laugh, feeling light, like a weight you didn't know you were carrying has been lifted. "Neither was I, but… I think I'm okay with it." he grins, kissing you again as you sigh contently. "More than okay with it…"

Eddie's smile widens, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. It's a perfect, quiet moment, just you and him, surrounded by the familiarity of his trailer. The world outside doesn't matter, not right now.

"Hey," he murmurs into your hair, "I know we might not have everything figured out yet, but… I'm really glad I told you."

You look up at him, heart swelling with affection, something that's not new to you. You've always held a level of affection for the wild-haired dungeon master. "Me too, Eddie."

And in that moment, you know you'll figure it out together, whatever comes next. Because you've always been there for each other, and now, as more than just friends, nothing could feel more right.

As Eddie presses another soft kiss to your forehead, you can't help but smile. Maybe things have changed, but it's definitely in the best way possible.

[coolprettyleo]

talk of the town - will smith

tw: lowkey cringe. if ur not into it lmk lowk...

wc: 1.4k

will smith x influencer/ d'amelio sister

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

dylan couldn't believe the shit day she was having. she had woken up late and missed her pilates class, then she spilt coffee all over her laptop, and right now she was fifteen minutes late to her music class. it was her first ever day of college too.

even though she was having a horrible day, she was still dressed cute. she decided she wanted to start taking her school more seriously. and that meant actually going to class.

the thing about dylan though is that she didn't need school. she had over one hundred million followers on all platforms. she was what someone would call an influencer.

influencers usually didn't continue with school if they didn't need to so when dylan decided to still attend college it was a shock to a lot of people; including her family.

her family were all also influencers and didn't decide to attend college; rather deciding to work on their brand instead. a brand that dylan opted out of, she had decided to enter marketing at boston college.

she entered her music class to find that there was no less than twenty five students inside. thats what happens when you attend a private college! dylans strategy her whole life was to always sit in the back of classes. (it was easier to skip class and just lie to the professor and say you were there)

there was one seat left where three other boys sat. she set her stuff down. the boys giving her an odd look, not thinking anyone was going to take that last seat between them or probably trying to figure out why the hell she looked so familiar. dylan got that look often.

the professor though was deep in lecture about their upcoming assignment and dylan was too busy trying to find a top for her upcoming brand dinner in New York. she was pulled out of her own little world when the professor noticed she was not listening and had missed the introduction part of class and decided to call her out on it.

she felt a tap from the boy next to her getting her attention because it seemed the professor had been calling her.

"oh my gosh im so sorry what" she said removing an AirPod and sheepishly looking at the class who all seemed to be either smiling at her or giving her dirty looks.

"since you decided to grace us with your presence introduce yourself please" she said pointing to a slide that stated what exactly to say.

"uhm... im dylan. im from connecticut but I've been living in LA for the past four years, and im a marketing major" she said awkwardly feeling like everyone was judging her.

"alright thank you miss dylan. I want to see the title slide of the assignment done before I dismiss you guys" she said.

the three boys she sat with seemed to be life long friends and she was feeling a bit left out. she had zoned them out till she heard them whispering to each other.

"ask her"

"no thats weird"

"ill ask"

"your tiktok famous huh"

she looked up to a freckled boy her while the dark haired boy giggled and the blonde haired boy cringed.

"uhm, yeah... I guess" she said awkwardly. she really didn't know what to say.

"nice" he said going back to working on his assignment.

she smiled awkwardly and looked at the other two boys. who looked like they were cringing about their friends actions. the dark haired boy seemed to let it go and work on his assignment while the blonde one spoke up.

"im sorry about him, ryan doesn't know how to talk to girls"

"yes I do! if I didn't how would I of pulled frankie" ryan says.

"she basically pulled you" gabe quipped back.

dylan just giggled along to their battering. they seemed funny.

"he's fine. a lot of people don't realize its me in real life but instead just stare at me trying to figure out why I look so familiar, and thats creepier to me"

"well we knew it was you because everyones been saying you go here" ryan told her.

oh god it was a hot topic?

"people talk about it?" she said grossed out.

"yeah, but like no one ever sees you for some reason"

"I did online classes and lived in LA last semester" she told them. it was true, her family was filming their Hulu show and it didnt make sense for her to leave mid-way through filming.

"do you live on campus?" the blonde one asked her again. he seemed like the quiet and calmer one of the three boys.

hes hot

"no, I live in beacon hill, the city"

"why didnt you dorm" gabe nosily asked.

"I didn't think it would be too fun to share an apartment with random girls at first but now I regret it, because I have no friends here" she honestly told them.

"oh my god! my girlfriend has no friends!" ryan said loudly. which made will, gabe, and the people around them to laugh.

"im telling her you said that" will smiled mischievously at him.

"shutup smitty. we have a game tonight and she usually sits alone or with my parents but they're not coming tonight so she'd probably like the company!" ryan said. he was honestly just trying to do a nice thing. he knew frankie struggled with the fact she had no girl friends; even though she said it was fine, and dylan seemed nice.

"game?" Dylan said confused.

"oh ya! we play hockey" the freckled boy answered.

"oh thats cool!" dylan said. she had attended a couple games recently due to the fact her sister was dating an NHL player.

"im will, thats gabe, and ryan" the blonde one said pointing the dark haired boy and the freckled one.

"im dylan. and what's your girlfriends number, id be down to go" she said to the freckled one.

"here" he said writing it down and handing her a crumpled paper.

"her names frankie by the way"

"okay, ill text her after class" she said smiling getting back to work.

"what's your major?" will asked her. he didn't want the conversation to end for some reason. she was lowkey his celebrity crush since he was like fourteen and they first started getting famous.

"marketing. you?"

"communications"

"your quite the communicator then" she said.

oh my gosh dylan you sound pathetic what the hell even is a communicator?

what didnt help was that will looked clueless and Ryan and gabe seemed to be biting back a smile acting like they weren't listening.

"im sorry?"

"like, you like communications- like the major" dylan said, trying to save herself but digging an even deeper and awkwarder hole, turning as red as a tomato.

"uhm ya, I didn't really know what major to pick coming in" he said smiling at her. a smile that dylan liked to see.

"well what do you want to be?"

"a hockey player."

"oh... too bad hockey isn't a major huh" she said chuckling at her own joke while ryan and gabe gave her funny looks except will of course, who was laughing at the joke like it was the funniest thing ever said. (thats what your supposed to do when your crush tells a joke)

"and what do you want to be"

"honestly, I dont know. I just want to have the degree so I can have more of a say in the brands I deal with, and all that"

"so you want the knowledge" gabe said, since he's been listening.

"yeah, basically" she said. making eye contact with will who looked to be studying her a bit.

he knew she wanted to say more but seemed to be putting up a wall which was understandable seeing as she just met these boys twenty mins ago.

"well im all done." she said closing up her laptop and standing up.

"maybe ill see you guys later!" she said waving to them.

"look for 6" will said to her.

"six what?" she said confused.

"what?" he said equally confused now

"six of what" she said cluelessly.

"like the number six" he said smiling awkwardly.

"oh!! omg I knew that! okay!" she said grabbing her bag and waving bye to them.

gabe and ryan gave each other a knowing look before immediately chirping will.

"you are such a flirt"

"that was painful"

"and he said I dont know how to talk to girls"

"shutup guys" he said packing his stuff away before leaving. hoping to see her in the stands tonight. her personality was even cuter.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

im so sorry for not uploading! I just keep overthinking everything so I end up just deleting it! but thats just a me problem lol. but I hope u guys like this au. I plan to the it all together.

[irisintheafterglow]

ENEMY FRAT!GETO PT 2 WHEN IM OBSESSED

RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW BABY

cw: swearing, mentions of eating

"i can't believe you're sneaking me out of my window like a fucking damsel."

"with all due respect, i can't exactly just knock on your front door," he chuckles quietly under his breath. his hand hovers respectfully beside your waist as you hop down from your window, the other hand unwaveringly steady in yours. you both wince at the crunch of your shoes on the crisp autumn leaves, as if the foliage wanted to rat you out and reveal you were sneaking around with the sorority's worst enemy. "very elegant landing," he teases and you stick your tongue out in response.

"next time, let's just use the main entrance," you mutter, keeping your fingers laced in his and dragging him to the side gate. "you don't even have to step on the porch; i'll just say i'm getting picked up by someone."

"your sisters would tear me like a banana peel as soon as they saw my car," he reminds you, pulling his hand away to open the passenger's side door. "and i won't say i don't like the thrill of this whole debacle." he carefully closes the door as quietly as humanly possible and creeps around the front like a cartoon burglar. you shake your head in light-hearted exasperation and his mouth becomes a smirk as he slides into the driver's seat. you suddenly curse under your breath, moving to reopen the car door. "what're you doing?"

"i forgot a jacket and we're gonna be outside, so-" you're barely finished with your thought before he's tugging off his crewneck and tossing it in your lap, just as he did during the halloween party. when you pull it over your head, it's warm like a space heater and rich with his cologne. he's left in an equally enticing black tee and you stare out the window to fight the fire on your face. "thank you."

"mhmm," he hums absentmindedly, as if giving you his clothes was as natural as blinking. he starts the car with a jerk of the key and pulls out into the neighborhood, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other floating just above your thigh. you gently push it onto your leg and his thumb rubs circles against your skin. "any thoughts on where to go tonight?"

"i'm a little hungry; i've been working on a midterm for hours," you suggest and he nods in agreement. as if on cue, a soft but persistent rumbling sounds through the car and you can't help smiling. "seems like you need some food, too."

"my beautiful date was taking a little long to get ready, unfortunately," he remarks with a sly sparkle in his eye and you roll your eyes.

"you're the one who showed up twenty minutes early," you argue, giggling at the panic that coursed through your body when you saw his car pull into the driveway. his eyes met yours through your bedroom window (you were grateful for having a room facing the street, for once) and you played a minute-long game of charades to tell him to leave. in the end, your hand practically slapped the call button, urgently whispering to park around the corner until your sisters left for a party. "i was so scared they were going to come out with sledgehammers and wreck your car."

"suddenly, it's a crime to be punctual," he laments melodramatically. "you gonna put on music or are we gonna sit here in silence? i don't mind either." the sarcasm in his tone doesn't escape you and you wonder again why, exactly, you kept letting him sneak you around like a secret royal lover.

"you are so indirect, geto suguru." he snorts out a laugh while you plug your phone into the aux cable of his car.

"last time i was direct, a guy ended up on the floor."

"true. any requests?"

"you know i like anything you play," he replies so tenderly that your brain short-circuits momentarily. "except for that musical shit. i'll only do that when we're at karaoke."

"speaking of, am i still invited to that karaoke thing tomorrow night?"

"of course, you are." the car pulls into a fast-food drive-thru and he rolls down the window. you're grateful that he gave you his sweater when the chilly air blows through the car. "and, before you ask, no. they're none the wiser."

"alright, that's good. is your roommate gonna be there, too?"

"satoru'll be there, yeah, along with a few guys a year younger than us. they're cool so you don't need to worry about them," he reassures you before leaning out the window and ordering all of your favorite items off of the menu. after dragging you out of the sorority house so many times, he'd memorized your favorite things and could read you instantly to know what you were in the mood for. he was nothing like your sisters insinuated his frat to be. "i'm excited that you wanna go," he says while you're eating in the parking lot. you have french fries scattered across your lap, but he thinks you'd never looked more beautiful.

"i'm just nervous that someone's gonna recognize me," you admit and he shakes his head.

"they won't give you shit if i'm there," he states with absolute certainty. "i'm the strongest, remember?"

"why is it that, whenever we're together publicly, you're somehow fighting for my honor?"

"you act as if i don't enjoy it," he replies with an arrogant smile. "i'll be your hero anytime, sweetheart."

"i can't believe you have such a large ego for such an unassuming demeanor." he scoffs and shoots you a mischievous look.

"you know what else is large-"

"alright," you stammer, shoving a chicken strip into his mouth to shut him up. "that's enough from you."

"hey, you're happy to be out with me, right?" your eyebrows draw together at the seriousness of his voice. it makes your heart race and your palms become clammier.

"of course, i am. i've never been happier."

"good, because i wanna keep doing this."

"doing what?"

"being with you."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[the-kr8tor]

I don’t know if you’re still taking asks for fluffy Friday but could you do a fic of the Hobie x reader twin AU, where the reader goes into labor and has the twins and their reactions during and after the twins are born!! Your recent one of them seeing the ultrasound was so cute!! But now I kinda wanna see the chaos and the cute that follows lol!! I feel like the doctors would low key be intimidated by Hobie cause he’d taking care of reader but also be staring them down 😂 to the point they’re ask him to leave but he doesn’t of course!! Sorry for the long ask!! Your last fic was just to AMAZING 🤩 !!

Ahhh another twin au request! Thank you for sending this one ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood mention, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You were in an unimaginable pain, the kind you would never wish on anyone, your voice is hoarse from all the screaming and cussing out whoever was unfortunate enough to slightly annoy you. Too bad for Hobie, your annoyance and anger were mostly thrown at him. You had him in an iron grip, he's sure his hand would be aching for days to come. He's been a great help in alleviating the pain, patting your sweaty face dry, feeding you ice chips, whispering words of encouragement and the occasional glare at the doctor who arrived fashionably late to the party.

The epidural was your best friend that you've never thought you'd even befriend. You were sure that you wouldn't need it but after what must've been the umpteenth contraction, you were more than happy to accept its friendship.

After twenty hours of labor, all the literal blood, sweat and tears were all worth it. From the first cry of the older twin came a sudden elation, then the younger came only after five minutes apart from her sister with a loud energetic cry. You were in pain, now everything you're currently feeling is extreme happiness, and also fatigue you've never experienced before.

Following all the ‘good jobs’ from the hospital staff and numerous tearful kisses from Hobie, it's safe to say you're officially a parent to the most beautiful pair of twins. Your girls, the light of your life.

With both babies cleaned and you wiped from all the fluids, they're properly swaddled and checked by the doctor and nurses, you lay almost half asleep with your babies on your bare chest. Hands securing them atop their tiny torsos. They gurgle, making the cutest sound you've ever heard whilst Hobie takes hundreds of pictures with his digital camera. He still can't believe his eyes at the little family he now has.

“Hobie,” you say hoarsely, eyes watery from all the happy sobbing and tiredness. “I think you've got all their angles covered.”

He lifts the camera off his eye, greeting you with a genuine grin. “Alright, let me have a turn at them so you can sleep”

You scoot over, giving him space to sit right next to your hip. Hobie takes the oldest first in his arm with slight trepidation and oh so careful like he's handling the finest china.

“Hi, dad's got you” Hobie looks down at his daughter staring up at him with curious eyes, he doesn't miss the fact that she mirrors your own, almost a copy of yours. With a quick peck on top of her forehead, he moves to take the youngest and smallest from your arms. You help him by cradling the back of her head. “And I've got you too”

She answers with her lips wobbling, looking like she's about to cry her little heart out. Hobie bounces her lightly, making cooing sounds that he would always make when the twins were particularly rowdy in your belly. It works, she still frowns up at her dad but the tears don't fall.

“My brave girl, huh? Just like mum” he leans down slightly, juggling his girls whilst he lifts up the blanket to cover your bare chest. “You did amazingly, love” Hobie tells you for the tenth time just in case you forgot.

You hum in reply, heart tender at the sight in front of you. Hands cupping both his elbows, your way of helping him carry the bundles of joy.

“Did you at least make me look good in the photos?” You gesture to the digital camera on the side table. “I must look horrible in all of them after all that”

Hobie shakes his head, “you're as beautiful as the day I met you, and it's impossible for you to look horrible in pictures”

“Even after almost pooping while I was pushing them out?”

“Especially then” you laugh softly, winching at the soreness.

“You alright?” Hobie scooches closer to you, sharing his warmth, taking a quick glimpse at his girls already sleeping. He's not jealous at all.

“I'm okay, promise” you drop your hands from his elbows down to his thighs, too tired to lift them for a second more. “How are they?”

“Sleeping, you should be too” he observes you closely, your eyebrows slightly knitted, hands limp over his thighs.

“We haven't even decided names for them yet” you whisper.

“We've got plenty of time for that. Sleep, they'll be here when you wake up, yeah?”

“I don't think I want to, I just wanna stare at them forever” you fight an oncoming yawn.

“Sleep or I'll name them B one and B two” he jokes.

“You wouldn't” you do your best glare despite the sleep slowly enveloping you.

“You wanna bet? On second thought Bert and Ernie sounds better”

You surrender, “alright, alright, I'll sleep” your eyes threaten to close. “I really like the first one you suggested, it's Ramona, right?”

“Love” he says sternly with hints of fondness.

You giggle, “okay, love you. All three of you” giving them one last look over, you finally succumb to sleep.

“We love you too”

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires- Part 7

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1193

Masterlist

If we were near your apartment, we'd probably end up at Starbucks.

Luckily we're on my turf. I'm not going to take you to that overpriced coffeeshop for hipsters and people without taste; I'm taking you to get real coffee, at my favorite café just down the road from Mooney's.

You walk beside me and you don't ask where we're going. I like that. You trust that wherever I'm taking you, you'll like it. Instead you chat idly about your week (which was busy) and ask me about mine (it was slow).

I ask you where you work. You tell me you're a copywriter at an online marketing agency. This surprises me.

“Marketing? Did you always want to do that?”

“No,” you say. “I always wanted to be an author. But you know what they say about writers who can't write.”

I actually don't. I tell you as much.

“We always end up in marketing.”

I think you're being too hard on yourself. I'm sure you're better at writing than you give yourself credit for. Then again, I haven't read anything you've written and I don't want to make assumptions. You might be horrible.

“What about you?” you ask. “Did you always want to work at a bookstore?”

“I don't know. I've worked at Mooney's since I was fifteen. The guy who owns it sort of took me in,” I explain, and clear my throat. “I've never really felt like a career change.”

“Did you go to college?” you ask.

I make a face, because I don't know how you feel about this subject. Finally, I shake my head.

“I hated school,” you say. “I can't learn that way. I've been much happier since I started working.”

“Did you become a copywriter right away?”

“God, no.” You laugh. “I was a TA for the longest time. Then I worked the lunch shift at this small restaurant. I loved that. Copywriting is kind of a recent development.”

I want to ask more questions, but we've arrived at the café. It’s a little joint with the same vibe as Mooney's: old, dusty, quiet. Old records line the walls here. On slow days, you're allowed to pick one and play it on the record player they have, but it's kind of busy today. We pick a table by the window and we order our coffees.

“I can believe that.”

You order yours with milk, no sugar. I order mine black. You tell me you used to drink black coffee until you moved to New York, but "the coffee is different here.”

You take a moment to look out the window, and I take that moment to look at you. I think that was your intention, because when you notice me staring you meet my eyes, and stare back. Most girls would have blushed and looked away.

“Tell me something about yourself, Joe,” you say. “I feel like I barely know you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What's your favorite book?”

I hiss playfully.

“You can't make me choose.”

You laugh at this, and I take a moment to think.

“There's a few,” I finally tell you. “Right now it's Frankenstein, I think.”

“That's... a choice,” you say.

I raise an eyebrow.

“How do you figure that?”

You fumble. I wonder if you said it just to say it - lots of people do that, when it comes to books - but then you shake your head.

“Well, that book, it's… Frankenstein creates this living, breathing person, and then he completely disregards it. Him. The book's about bad parenting, really.”

Did you have bad parents, (Y/n)? Is that why you moved all the way to New York?

“I didn't say I like Frankenstein himself,” I say. “I just said I like the book.”

“I'll be honest: I've read Frankenstein, but I remember the introduction better than the actual story.” You pause. “The classics aren't really my thing. Well, that's not true. I like some of them. I just don't find them automatically better than any other books.”

“You don't have to.”

You take a sip of your coffee, which has just been set down, and then suck in some air when you realize it's too hot. I chuckle, and you fake a glare.

“Now you tell me something about you,” I say.

“Like what?” you ask.

“I don't know.”

“Okay, well. I have an unhealthy obsession with serial killers.”

“Ah,” I say. “You're one of those people.”

“Well, don't say it like that.” You won’t meet my eyes now. “I just find it interesting, how the human mind can turn out like that. How do they kill so many people and still sleep at night?”

“Maybe they know the world is better off without those people in it.”

You look at me.

“Who are they to decide, though?”

I like it when you look me in the eyes, even if it's because you're challenging me. I don't want you to look away.

I wonder if you'd look at me this way during sex. I'm sure you would. You'd refuse to break eye contact first. But eventually you'd cave. You'd have to.

“I'm reading this book right now,” you say.

“Under the banner of heaven.”

Oh, no.

I've messed up. You're looking at me all wrong, and why wouldn't you? I'm not supposed to know what you're reading. You didn't buy that book at Mooney's. You must have bought it somewhere else, or ordered it online, but you didn't get it from me.

I have to bluff my way through this.

“You told me,” I say.

“Right…” you swallow, then shake it off. “Well, it's about these guys who murdered their brother's wife, and the baby, too. They thought God told them to, or something. They were Mormons. How do you ever get to that point? That you'd murder a baby and call it God's will?”

“I don't know,” I admit. “Some people are just bad people, I guess.”

But you shake your head. You don't want to believe in the worst the world has to offer.

“There has to be a reason,” you say. “Nobody is born bad.”

“Maybe not,” I concede.

“Sorry. I'm boring you.”

Not at all.

“A little bit. I mean, no,” I say, shaking my head. “What I mean is, I don't know that I agree with you, fully.”

“About people not being born bad?”

“Some people are just pure evil,” I say. “And it's only getting worse, you know. These days, it's way too easy for everybody to make themselves into the main character of their story. It breeds selfishness. That's why I hate social media.”

“I noticed I couldn't find you,” you tell me. “And I looked pretty hard.”

You looked for me!

“I looked for you on Instagram,” I admit. “But your account is private, and I didn't want to make one of my own just to follow you.”

“Stalker,” you tease. “Both of us. We're a couple of regular old stalkers.”

“Can't be too careful,” I say.

“No, you can't,” you agree. “Anyone could be a weirdo.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Well, that's okay,” you say. “I like those.”

[thebisexualdogdad]

Buggy the clown x male reader. Buggy’s being difficult and annoying so he loses sex privileges. So we take his dick. “Mine now.”

Buggy x Male!reader - Detached

"But Y/N I don't want to have dinner with your friends," Buggy huffs, standing completely naked in front of you with a nice suit laid out on the bed in the room you two had been staying in.

The crew had traveled back to syrup village so Usopp could see Kaya and all you had asked Buggy to do was wear one of the suits from the wardrobe she so graciously offered you guys but he was being as stubborn and difficult as ever.

"Don't you want to dress up nice just for a night?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest to show him you were upset with him.

"The suit isn't the problem, well it sort of is the boys have no room to breathe in that thing," he says gesturing to his junk, "but haven't I tolerated your friends enough? I've been stuck on a boat with them for three months and I haven't killed any of them yet."

"Buggy if you and me are going to work you have to try to actually like my friends not just tolerate them," you state.

"But they are so annoying," he says dramatically, "and do I need to remind you they kept my head in a bag!"

"Fine," you say, grabbing his exposed dick right off his body thanks to his separation powers, "this is mine now."

"Y/N!!" Buggy shouts looking down at where his dick is supposed to be and then back up to your hand where it currently is, "give it back!"

"Nope, you aren't getting this or sex again until you promise you will try to get along with my friends."

Even detached from his body his dick was reacting to your touch and started to stiffen in your hand.

"Dammit why am I getting turned on by this," he mumbles, "fine, fine I will be nice to your friends."

"I don't know if I believe you," you say just to mess with him.

"I will, I will I promise, now please give me my dick back," he pleads.

Buggy's dick is only growing harder and it gives you an idea, an idea that you know Buggy would absolutely enjoy.

"Actually, I've thought of something better to do before dinner," you smirk, raising his dick to your mouth and popping the tip between your lips.

Buggy groans, fully feeling what you are doing to him.

He's staring at you in awe, wanting to touch himself but that part of him is already preoccupied.

You release his dick from your lips with a pop and set it upright on the bed next to the suit, "I want to see you fuck yourself Bug."

He nods excitedly, crawling onto the bed and situating himself above his own dick, letting you guide it inside him.

"Oh god," he moans when he bottoms out.

"Does that feel good? Your own dick inside you?" You ask.

Buggy can't get any words out, only sounds of pleasure filling the room answering your question.

"Better get moving, dinner starts in twenty minutes," you tell him, standing back and watching him begin to bounce on his dick.

He's moaning loudly at the feeling of getting fucked by his own dick, why did he never think to do this before?

You undo the buttons of the slacks you had chosen to wear to dinner and he groans when he sees your own hard dick peeking through the top of your underwear.

"Please let me suck you off," he begs, still bouncing steadily.

You lower the band of your underwear, your dick flopping out so you can stroke yourself.

"You want to suck me off?" You ask, stepping closer to buggy but just out of his reach.

"Please, please baby I swear I'll behave, I'll wear the suit, I'll do whatever you want just let me suck you off while I ride my dick," he says, reaching out for you.

"Well since you asked so nicely," you chuckle, letting Buggy grab your waist and pull you close enough for him to eagerly take your dick in his mouth.

It's sloppy as he's riding himself but damn does it feel good with his moans reverberating through your body.

He grabs your ass, pushing you towards him even closer so he chokes on your dick, gagging but loving every second of it.

"Good boy Buggy," you say, playing with his blue hair and he expertly bobs his head letting the tip hit the back of his throat repeatedly.

He's so close, he can feel himself reaching the edge but he holds off knowing how amazing it would be to feel you cum in his throat at the same time he cums in himself.

And he's right.

After a few more blissful minutes of sucking you off you're shooting cum directly down his throat which takes him over the edge as he fills his own ass with his cum.

His eyes are glazed in a post cum euphoria when you pull your dick out of his mouth, cum dribbling down his chin and a smile on his face.

He slowly stops riding himself, raising his hips so his cum covered dick can fly back to where it's supposed to be and he collapses onto the mattress.

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced," he says, chest heaving with his dick still twitching.

"I'm glad you had fun," you laugh, stuffing your dick back in your pants, "now hurry up and get dressed, we have to be downstairs in two minutes.

"Okay, okay," he says lazily rolling off the bed, "but we gotta do that again sometime."

You hand him the suit and grin, "if you keep your promise maybe next time we'll see if you can take my dick and your own dick at the same time."

His jaw drops at just the thought of it, "you are a fucking genuis."

"Thanks baby but seriously put that damn suit on I'm hungry and don't want to miss appetizers."

[shhh-secret-time]

Part 2 is 21 pages. Part 1 was 16 pages. Combine that together and that's a 37 page request I pumped out in a day.

oops.

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Praise Kink, a bit of jealous behavior, mention of character death, bug violence(?), bit of PTSD

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

When you finally woke up, the first thing that came to your mind was just how dry your mouth felt. You swallow roughly and it burns the back of your throat in a different way the alcohol of last night did. It felt like you were trying to swallow steel wool, forcing what little saliva pooled in your mouth down your throat.

The second thing was the fact the horse had gone back to a slow trot. No longer could you hear hooves on cobblestone. The wind was no longer whipping around your head and through your hair. The smell of the city long gone, now replaced with a deep earthy scent.

The third was the feeling of Kyle's arms still wrapped around you, one pulls away from your side for a moment. You feel him move around, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He presses his fingers into his heavy eyelids before returning them to the reigns.

Finally, all three things fall into place as you piece it all together. Kyle feels the way your body bolts up away from his chest and brings his horse to a stop. He pulls her off to the crummy dirt road and off to the side.

"Oh! I apologize! I didn't mean to fall asleep like that! I can't believe I just passed out!" Panic sets into your voice and guilt eats at you when you realize he probably rode all through the night.

"It's fine ma'am. I figured you could use the rest. Please don't take any offense or nothin' but you look like you ain't seen much shut eye." Kyle smiles at you holding his hand up to try and settle you.

"I-.... you’d be right. Still, that's no excuse. You're still a stranger, the fact that I just fell asleep like that..."

"A stranger you shot a man for. A stranger you saved from gettin' strangled to death. I never did get to thank you for that." He pauses for a moment as he gets down from the horse. Kyle takes the reigns with him, choosing to walk along aside the horse now. "I've only had a few people in my time willin' to do somethin' like that for me and I at least know their names."

It hits you like a brick. In less than twenty-four hours you got into your first ever bar fight, shot a shotgun, slugged a man with said shotgun, all but bribed the sheriff, ran off with a man who didn't even know your name, and then fell asleep on said man who didn't even know your name. You catch yourself staring down at the handsome gunslinger, breaking yourself out of the daze trance like stare. It was hard not to admire him; looks aside he's been nothing but a delight to you. It would have been all too easy for him to just dump you off somewhere, leaving you and your problems behind.

Instead, here he was. Walking alongside you and his horse, without even so much as asking you about your business. Why you wanted to go out West, or why you needed to hire him in the first place. You hadn't even told him how much you were paying him for all of this.

"Ma'am?" Oh, right, your name.

"I'm being all types of rude, aren't I? I'm sorry..."

"Ain't nothin' to apologize for. I figured you got a reason for keepin' secrets. If you don't wanna tell me, I ain't gonna make ya." He shrugs.

 It takes you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you do you finally gain the courage to ask him. "Why are you being so accepting about all of this? Shouldn't you be surprised or at the very least upset?"

"The way I see it, you saved my skin back there twice. Once with Knucklehead and the other with the Sheriff." He says sheriff with a sneer, "I owe you. Besides the way you begged the sheriff to let us go, I could tell you were in some kind of trouble. Wouldn't be right of me to turn my back on someone who needed help."

"So, what, you're just doing this out of obligation and the kindness of your heart?"

That makes him laugh again, but he quickly shakes his head. "Guess you could put it like that. Walk the righteous path and clear all debts sort of ordeal. But I don't think it goes that deep. Like I told the bartender last night, I'm just a simple fella tryin' to make a livin'."

You sit on his horse in awe, if this was an act he was putting on it was a damn fine one. You run your fingers through the horse’s mane, brushing out the sand and dirt on the poor creature who must be so tired. She huffs a little, but she doesn't move her head, so you continue.

After a few moments of walking and silence, you tell him your name. Your full name.

Every time you speak, he gives you his full attention, looking up at you with that gentle smile. You expect his eyes to widen like everyone else's when you drop your last name, your family was famous after all. Instead, he nods along and practices the sound of your name on his tongue.

He says it again and hearing it whispered in that voice of his sounds divine. Once he likes the way it feels and sits, he turns back to the road and keeps walking.

"Pretty name...like the way it sounds. I hate the fact that I ain't gonna get to use it much." His lips purse, talking like he's just mumbling to himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it wouldn't be real wise to be usin' your name if you're tryin' to go into hidin'. Even if we are on the road alone, I don't wanna take any chances. If I get in the habit of usin' your name, I ain't gonna wanna stop." He brings the rim of his hat down over his eyes trying to hide the blush on his face. Even though he says it with such confidence it's hard to look you in the eye.

He's not alone, his words have a greater effect on you than he knows. You pull the cloak still wrapped around your body closer to your form, burying your face in the material. Maybe you could just rub your flushed face away or at the very least it would buy you time to slow your heartbeat down.

Kyle was right about one thing. Your last name has brought you nothing but trouble your whole life. So, for now you'd get rid of it, toss it to the side like the various newspapers you saw littering the city streets. Let it drift away and be carried by the Eastern winds. It was time to leave the city girl you were raised to be behind; you were going out West now.

"The only thing I can't seem to wrap my head around." Kyle breaks the silence between you two again. "Is how someone like you learned to shoot like that."

"How do you mean? It doesn't take much to point a gun at someone and pull the trigger, can't really miss with a shotgun when you're that close."

"That's what I'm askin'. It don't take much to pull a trigger, but you knew how to hold it. Held her like you knew her."

"How'd a lawyers boy go from that to being a bounty hunter?" You ask, bringing up the little fact that Sheriff Cartman spat at him last night.

His lips press together in a thin line and for a moment you feel like you might have crossed a line. Said something you shouldn't have, but when his shoulders slump forward you can feel something different. It's not anger in his eyes, maybe regret? Hurt that rests behind those tired green eyes.

"I don't know why I'm tellin' you this. But we're gonna be together for a while, might as well make conversation I suppose." Again, he talks like he's not really talking to you. His inner thoughts spilling from his mouth like brandy in a bottle. "It was bandits."

Your blood runs cold, that could mean anything but, in this context, you had a feeling it wasn't a good one. Your fingers brush down the coat of the horse as he talks, finding comfort in the animal. You can feel the warm and gentle breathing coming from her. If you squint, you could almost swear they had lined up their breathes. She would take in an inhale, and he would let out a puff of air.

"Pa was a lawyer, Ma was a stay-at-home mama. He made enough for all of us and another. I have a baby brother they adopted when I was younger." He goes to tell his story with a little pause in between.

"You said have. He still around?" That question hurts to ask, but curiosity was gnawing at you. You wanted to know more about this gunslinger, that included the bad too.

"Yeah. I think it was when I was fifteen? Pa was puttin' me through school, was studyin' to be like him. I was gonna put away bad people just like him." He takes his hat off with his free hand, he stares down at the inside of the hat. You catch a glimpse of stiches and patchy line work. Past the scuff marks and tears on the old thing it looks like someone tried to patch it back together again. Enough to where it would hold up. But past that there was a little black and white picture tucked in the makeshift pocket of one of the patches.

A skinny man, honestly looked like a strong gust of wind could blow him away, standing next to the most gorgeous looking woman you've ever seen. Her hair was put up in a tight bun, curves on every ounce of her that made her look like something out of those fancy paintings. The dress she wore clung to her body and on her lap was a little boy. Black hair that didn't match the shade of grey on either of the adults behind him. He had a big toothy grin on his face as he held an outstretched hand for the other boy beside him.

It was Kyle. Much younger than he is now, hopeful looking face with his hair cut short and kept clean. The curls sat neatly on the top of his head, and he dressed like some of the men your father did business with. Fine button up grey shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. A grey tie came down from his collar that disappeared behind a black vest. Still had that soft smile on his face as he looked at the camera.

He quickly puts the hat back on feeling your eyes peering down behind him. Again, you felt like you got a peek into something you shouldn't have seen. If he was bothered you couldn't tell, he just kept talking.

"Pa was always real good at that, puttin' bad people away. Could do it the civilized way, take him down and give 'em a trial. Rely on the system to put 'em behind bars and supposably reform 'em." He scoffs at that statement, "lotta good all that did. Pa put away the wrong man. Some no name bandit leader thinkin' he could take the short way through life and rob some rich folk."

Kyle stops, completely. Stops the horse, stops talking and just stares down at the ground below. You watch a little red scorpion scurry after its dinner. Stinger pulled back and at the ready.

"Men like that got one thing goin' for 'em. They travel in numbers. Numbers that don't like when you mess with their own. Pa wasn't even the man that brought that bandit leader in, but he was the reason why he'd never walk under the sun again. They were gonna keep that no named man locked away in the deepest parts of their holdin' cells. His men didn't like that idea much."

The scorpion chases the target down until they come to a ledge. Something that would be so easy for you to just step over, something that would barely be an obstacle in your way. But for the tiny bug that was fleeing for its life, it was the end of the road. It wasn't dexterous enough to try and make it over the little ledge, the path to freedom taunting it as it falls on its back.

"Don't really know what they were thinkin' or how they came to the conclusion. But they decided in the dead of night they'd...burn down the town? Came in on horseback makin' all types of racket. I remember Ma pushing my brother in my hands an' tellin' me to run out to where we kept the stagecoach. Somethin'-" He chokes and clears his throat to collect himself. "Somethin' about the horses already hitched and ready. To just jump on and wait for her and Pa."

The scorpion closes in on the bug. His stinger blocking the view of the sun, casting the shadow of death over the poor thing.

"I protested, wanted to stay and help her pack bags. Carry somethin' other than my cryin' brother." His hands clutch the sarape around his body, right where his heart would be. "She told me not to argue with her and to get my ass outside. Never heard her curse before..."

The bug kicks its little legs, trying to roll off its back. It squirms, fights, and rocks trying to do anything. Anything but die.

"I did what she told me. Go where she told me. You don't question your mama when she tells you to do somethin' ya know?" He licks his lips, and you wonder if they're as dry as yours are right now. "I put my brother and I in the carriage and I wait for 'em. Then...the house just...erupts. One of those sons of bitches threw somethin' against the side of the house and it catches a blaze."

Kyle closes his eyes, a bead of sweat drips down his face. Like he can still feel the roaring flames against his face. The poor man is standing there reliving it all.

The scorpion finally brings its stinger down. Strikes the pathetic creature in the stomach one good time. The venom does its job, you're sure if the little thing could scream out it would. Instead, it just goes slack, goes limp and dies.

"I... I didn't know what to do. I had just learned to drive the damn thing, so I grabbed the reigns and snapped it. If it wasn't for my brother, I probably would've run into that blazing hell. Probably be a dead man too."

"Probably." Your voice finally pipes up. Kyle looks up at you and you're not giving him the look of pity others have when he tells this tale. Your face is softened sure but there's nothing in those eyes that tell him you're looking down at him.

"That's the last time I saw 'em. Last time I said good night...I only wished I woulda got to say I love you."

The scorpion closes in on its meal. Now that it's not trying to run it figures it can eat in peace. Pinchers at the ready to pick the corpse up.

"I didn't. Spent a lotta time wishin', and a lotta time gettin' good with a gun. Pa taught me there were other ways to take a man down, not everythin' had to be solved with violence. We could do it humane like instead of usin' a gun. Just a shame I turned out to be a damn good shot."

Kyle starts walking again, and as he does, he walks over the scorpion. Crushing the creature under his heel without a second thought. You watch as when he moves his heel the thing lays there with the sand already started to claim it's body. You wonder if it got to at least get a bite of what it worked so hard for.

"So that's how you started bounty hunting?"

"Yep. Started with the assholes that took my parents from me and my brother. Guess they're the only people I never brought in alive."

"Really?!" That was a part of the man you didn't learn from rumors.

"I'm flattered you seem to think I had the ability to bring in fifteen men all by my lonesome, but no. I gave 'em the same treatment they gave my parents." Most men would be proud of that, say it with their chests out. Kyle doesn't, he keeps his eyes on the road and his head down.

"You burned them?"

"Set their whole lil' hideout on fire. Got a bottle of whiskey, drank some of it for courage and then tucked a cloth in the rest of it. Lit the sucker on fire and tossed it."

You try not to imagine the sounds that fifteen men on fire would make, or the fact that not even one of them got away. Kyle was a lucky man that there weren't a few to make it out of that fire that night. Who knows what would have happened if he was caught or worse, they lived to enact revenge like Kyle had.

"Took my brother to an old friend’s ranch and we stayed there for a while. You ever hear of the Marsh family?"

"Sure. They're famous ranchers, good at breakin' in horses and growin' crops."

"Their son is my best friend. I call that man my brother. Call him that until I take my final breath." A smile finally comes back to his face, talking about someone that means so much to him seems to put him at ease.

"Why'd ya leave?" You ask, letting a smile come across your face at the sight of his.

"Didn't feel right just sittin' around. Plus, if word got out that I was stayin' in one place I figured it'd just bring trouble. My brother didn't do nothin' so I asked if I could leave him there. Been out on the road ever since, I send him letters from time to time but it ain't easy gettin' 'em out to me so I just assume he's alright."

"You should visit your brother...I'm sure he misses you." You tell him. It almost breaks your heart the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"With the reputation I built up, I'd only be bringin' danger to his doorstep. I couldn't do that to him or Stan." That must be his friend he mentioned, you note. "I take what I earn from bounty hunting and send it their way. Just because I chose to throw away the life our Pa had set out for me, doesn't mean he's gotta. Every nickel and dime I get goes to keepin' me goin' and buildin' a better life for him."

Your heart swells, swells with admiration and pain. It hurts to see a man who so clearly loves his family have to keep himself away from what little he has left of it. Who has to distance himself from the two people he'd call brother. Neither really blood related to him but they might as well be. You can't help but admire him, how he tries to carry all that responsibility on his back. You thought the tired look in his eye was just from staying up all night and riding into the morning.

"Kyle, that's incredibly brave of you. Putting yourself out there for your brother, if it means anything...I don't think you're throwing your life away." You find that courage you somehow mustered up last night and put your hand over his, the one that still has the reigns. He looks up at you, watching as the sun sits behind your head like a halo. You bend down a bit and get closer to him, whispering as if someone was listening in. "I think what you're doing is the most noble thing I've ever heard. You're the kind of man they talk about in story books...if I didn't believe in you before I do now. Thank you."

"For....for what?" He asks and swallows, his adams apple bobs. For the first time in a long time, he can't seem to find his voice, it drops to a low whisper.

But could anyone blame him? The way you look at him so gently, every little blink of your eyelashes has him sinking deeper and deeper into the color of your eyes. That golden sun behind you makes you look like an angel, and maybe you are one. As far as Kyle is concerned only an angel could look at him like that. Find a way to admire him and sing his praise after being told he set fifteen men to hell in a blaze of hate.

"For being you. I used to not think there were good men out there, but you're changing that." You say it like it's the simplest thing on earth. Like he should have just known the answer to that.

But when you say it, it's like being punched in the chest. You have your hands so tightly wrapped around his heart he's sure if you say anything else he's going to keel over. He lets himself have this moment, lets a breath escape his chest and holds onto each little word you said.

"Ma'am, you ain't got a clue as to what you're sayin'. You don't know me well enough to be passin' judgement like that."

"Hm. Good thing I'm a real good judge of character. A man as bad as you claim to be would've robbed me blind especially if he knew for a fact, I was carrying enough money on me to buy your friends ranch."

His eyes widen at that, he stares at you as if you just told him the sky was red and the rapture was coming. Kyle's respone catches in his throat, unable to say anything at that. You can't help but laugh at that, the sweet sound coming from your lips makes his knees weak.

You toss him the stained white bag of cash, the once pure white cloth now soiled by the desert sands. Dirt clings to it but that doesn't stop him from catching it and opening it up. True to your word, there was so much cash in here Kyle could probably beat a man to death with it.

"You walked into that damn saloon with this?!" Kyle yelled quickly, closing the bag.

"I risked a lot on trying to find you." You say with a little shrug. "Sold everything I owned, took what I could carry and set out to hire you."

"You're either crazy or desperate. Please, for the love of God don't take offense to this."

You laugh again and shake your head; you couldn't argue with him. He was right. Maybe you were both, but it was either this or get unlucky one day and go missing. You'd take your chances with the handsome man next to you. At least he wasn't a stranger much anymore.

"I just got tired of the life I was living. Heard there was good opportunity out West. Figured I could settle in Texas or...Colorado?"

"Colorado?! Ma'am if this is some elaborate plot to give me a heart attack just to take me out, you're doin' a damn fine job." He clutches the bag into his chest and takes a deep breath. Quickly he stuffs the bag into the saddle bag on his horse. She stirs a little and shakes her head letting him know that her patience is running thin.

"So, you're suggesting Texas?"

"It's better than fuckin' God damn Colorado!" The way Kyle's cursing picks up when he's stressed is kind of adorable.

Laughter echoes down the road all the way out of the state. You finally find yourself off the East coast for the first time in your life. The company you keep makes it all the better! Eventually you stop at the nearest town and purchase your own horse. You have to slow down a little because Kyle has to all but teach you how to mount her and how to keep her from freaking out. He's calm and patient with you the entire time, only laughing at you a few times when you forget to buckle the saddle completely and almost slide right off. He teaches you how to take care of her and you end up spending most nights swapping stories by campfires.

You're somewhere deep in the state of Missouri, where exactly you're not sure that's Kyle's job. The night sky hangs above your heads with the stars staring down at you. Each little twinkle makes you think they're winking down at you. Kyle's told you that a few of the stars have names and stories behind them, you let him ramble on about it for hours before informing him that you already knew all that. The look on his face alone was enough to make you laugh.

You must have laughed again because Kyle's looking up from the worn-out map up at you now. He has a lazy smirk, the corners of his lips hidden behind the scruff on his face that's starting to grow in. His hair just now starting to go back to when you first met him, he's shaved it off a few times since your journey much to your dismay. You complained for days when he first did it only to be met with an eye roll.

That was something you always noted, that whenever you would complement Kyle's appearance, he'd brush you off or find a way to deflect. Telling you that you were the pretty one or that you were just seeing things because you weren't drinking enough water. The heat was getting to you, and you needed to take some time by the shade.

But he really was a handsome man, the rugged look didn't really line up with his personality but damn if it didn't do something to you. Being next to the man for so long, having made the first real connection with another person for the first time in your life. Well, it was getting harder and harder not to see him in a different light.

Especially since every moment leading up to this point, Kyle would do everything in his power to protect you. Putting himself in harm’s way time and time again just to make sure you'd be safe. Bandits thinking the both of you were easy picking, Kyle's reputation didn't reach every corner of the country. And the few times it did, it only encouraged people like Knucklehead to try and take a shot at bringing him down. There were a few times people recognized you. Someone had put out missing wanted posters with your face plastered all over them.

Of course, when danger came rearing its ugly head, Kyle would be there by your side. At first it was a lot of him taking shots for you, you patching him up. Using those studies your parents provided, removing bullets, and cleaning the wound left behind wasn't exactly what you had studied but eventually you got the hang of it. Each time you'd scold him to be more careful, he'd argue that catching bullets with his body wasn't something he liked doing. And each time just as you'd finish bandaging him back up, he'd give you a look that had your heart fluttering. His eyelids would lower down, and his lips would part in just a way that made them look so kissable. But every time you'd think you got the courage to just do it, he'd pull away and wish you a good night. Disappearing in his tent as if he wasn't just staring at you thinking the same thing.

Little did you know he was thinking the same thing. Countless nights he'd stay awake at night, tossing and turning in his bedroll trying to get the image of you so close out of his head. It had been a long time since Kyle felt this close with anyone, much less got to share the road with another person. Those little moments where you'd brush your fingers over his exposed skin or when you'd wake up nice and early to make sure he got something in his stomach before riding off. It made it harder and harder to want to not make you, his woman. To not take you up in his arms and take you into his tent for the night.

But that's not why you hired him. Once he got you to Colorado, he'd drop you off, probably stick around long enough to make sure you were settled, and then be on his way. Leaving you in that state all by yourself and he'd return to wherever the road took him. That thought filled him with an indescribable loneliness, one he tried to keep out of his head. He tried to focus on how good he felt just being near you, savoring the moments he got with you now.

Like how pretty you looked when you sat next to the fire, back against a log that he dragged over to make it a little more comfortable. A book resting in your lap and a page between your fingers, some novel you both picked up and swapped back and forth. How every time you looked over at him thinking you could steal a few glances without him noticing, only to be caught in the act. Ever since he met you back at the bar you would avert your eyes from him and try to find something else to look at or pretend that you were looking past him. He found it so cute.

"Somethin' funny darlin'?" You don't know when he started calling you that, can't recall but every single time it makes your heart leap.

"Just thinking about that time, you were telling me about the stars. How I'm gonna miss this..."  You say with a little shrug and smile, reaching down next to you to grab the bottle of wine.

"You'll still be able to see 'em in Colorado. In fact, I hear they're mighty pretty over the desert." He says watching you take a drink from the bottle.

"It's not the same." You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your blouse, the red liquid staining the shirt. "It's not the same if you don't have someone to share it with."

It's Kyle's turn to blush a little, he gives you a little hum and a nod like he understands. There's a moment where he thinks his heart stops, but it thumps against his chest, and he finds it in him to speak up. "You always know just what to say to make a man flustered huh?"

"Since when have I talked to other men like this?" You ask scooting a little closer to him, that night wind pushing you a little closer to his warmth.

"I don't quite recall..." He mumbles meeting you halfway.

Kyle helps close the gap between the both of you until your thighs are touching. The material of his jeans brush against your legs, exposed because of the skirt clips holding your skirt to where they just cover your thighs.

"Think it would work on another man?" Your voice drops to a whisper.

His brows furrow at that and his face twists into a scowl. You watch the way his eyes narrow and darken a little. He huffs and you can smell the scent of coffee on his breath. Kyle doesn't say anything, instead he goes for the wine bottle in your hand. The man takes a swig of it, trying to hide the jealous feeling that's starting to creep up on him.

"Reckon it would... if you had the backbone to be talkin' to other men."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It's your turn to furrow your brows at him, they knit together.

"Just sayin' you ain't exactly a smooth talker with everyone you come across. I seem to remember a certain run in with that snake oil salesman that was tryin' to get you to agree to go on a lil' date with him." He taps the bottle against his lips a few times before taking another drink.

You take the bottle from him, crawling over his lap to reach the darn thing. You press your palm into his thigh and suddenly he's very aware of just how close you are to him. Kyle isn't sure if you're doing on purpose but either way it makes his dick twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He doesn't give you time to protest as he moves the bottle out of reach, holding it back just as you brush your fingertips against the cool glass. "No, I think I remember you fumblin' over your words and I had to come over and tell the fella you weren't interested."

Damn him. Damn that handsome red head for calling you out and looking so cocky while doing it. His smirk returns as he cocks his head down at you, the way his lips glisten against the campfire almost has you distracted. Almost.

But you wanted your wine, so you take another lunge for it. Pressing your body into him to try and climb over and snatch it back. His hand comes down to your waist, keeping you in place.

"Ah! No ma'am, I think someone's had enough. All that talk about flirtin' with other men ain't much like you. Think this is messin' with your head." He tuts and shifts you in his lap. He's hoping you don't feel the effect you're having on him.

"You know what I think Broflovski? I think you're jealous!" You challenge crossing your arms under your chest.

"That so? That what you think darlin'?"

"Why else would you be acting like this? You're acting like a damn child! Now give me my bottle, I'm a grown woman I can drink as much as I wanna!"

He laughs at that. Laughs right at your protests and the way you're pouting in his lap. It makes your face burn up, it makes you wanna hit him, makes you wanna kiss him until he shuts up.

"You're real cute when you get fussy you know that?" Kyle lets the compliment slip out of his mouth before he has time to think about it.

He knows better. He knows he shouldn't be flirting with you, shouldn't get attached. But that ship has long since sailed, he's been infatuated with you since the day you told him he was a good man. But fuck if it isn't getting harder and harder, especially with you sitting so pretty on his lap.

"Kyle Broflovski! If you don't start acting right!" You know the blush on your face doesn't help, the scolding falls on deaf ears.

"I ain't the one crawlin' into a man's lap for a bottle of cheap wine." He sets the bottle down beside him off into the dark where it no longer matters. That hand finds home on your waist, rolling his thumbs over the material of your skirt.

You suck in a breath and sit up on your knees, pushing them to rest on either side of him. "You're not just another man...that what you want me to tell you?"

"Can't say I wouldn't like it." Kyle's voice dips low, gravely and makes a shiver zip down your spine.

"If you don't want me flirting with other men..., why are you waiting so long to kiss me?"

"Oh darlin'," He growls and squeezes the back of your thighs, rough hands sliding up your skirt. "I want nothin' more but...you and I both know I can't."

"No, I don't think I do. Enlighten me." You're not letting him get away this time, there would be no running off to his tent to avoid this. You had him wrapped around your little finger, even if your heart felt like it was about to explode.

" 'Cause if I start kissin' you. I'm gonna keep doin' it..." He gets closer, sitting up to his full height just to graze his lips over yours. "Keep kissin' ya 'til I ain't go breath in my lungs left. Then I'll wanna take you in my arms jus' like this." He gives you a little squeeze pressing his chest further against yours. "I wouldn't be able to stop myself from makin' those sweet lil' noises come out of your mouth. Wouldn't wanna stop either."

Your breath hitches and you let out a soft little moan. You card your fingers through his hair, his hat was put away somewhere in his tent, so it left those gorgeous red curls unguarded. He groans and inadvertently bucks his hips up into you, the rough feeling of his jeans grinding up against your underwear.

"Fuck and if you ain't makin' it difficult. Talkin' like that makes me think you planned to get me all worked up. You ain't stupid, just about the smartest woman I've ever met in my life." He continues grinding his hips into you, rolling you over his growing erection. Kyle groans and doesn't even bother trying to stop the sounds coming out of his mouth.

"K-Kyle just kiss me already!" You whimper in his lap.

And he snaps, whatever wall he built up to resist you comes tumbling down. Just the way you say his name has him tossing all logic out the window. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face down towards him, crashing your lips onto his. His teeth almost knock into yours from how desperately he needs this, how much he needs you. It's like being able to stretch your legs after riding for days, or a cool drink of water after being under that blazing sun for too long.

That crackling fire that keeps your little camp sight illuminated doesn't give off nearly the amount of heat Kyle's kiss does. His chapped lips move against yours, somehow despite being on the road for so long they're still so soft. It takes a second for your brain to register that he's finally kissing you, after so long he's finally doing it. Before he can pull back, you press back into the kiss. Hands coming down from his hair to cup his jaw like it'll anchor you from floating away.

He kisses you again and again, each kiss turning more passionate. He goes from a desperate kiss to kissing you like a starved man. His tongue slips out and swipes against your bottom lip, when you don't open your mouth, he growls and pulls you down, so you're now firmly sat in his lap. The action makes you gasp, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, more than excited to explore the inside of your mouth until he finds your tongue. You poke back nervously and chase after the pink muscle. Finally, your tongues twine together, wrapped up in some kind of dance.

He kisses you until your lungs burn, desperate for air. In this silent little battle to see who would break first, it's you. You pull away from him and take in a large gasp. The lack of air and how heated the kiss was makes your head spin. Just as you collect yourself, he's on his feet lifting you up with him. You cling to him and wrap your arms around his neck, even though you know he won't drop you the shock of being moved so quickly like that caught you off guard.

"W-where are we going?"

" 'm takin' you to bed." He walks you over to the tent he's got pitched up, moving to your tent. Kyle bends down and gently lays you down on the bedroll. He sucks in a breath when he sees the way your hair's all laid out and how you've got your thighs pressed together. Lips wet and slightly puffy from the way he kissed you. "Now if you ain't the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Take your blouse off for me."

Kyle looks down at you with darkened eyes, heavy eyes filled with lust. He watches every single little movement you make. They watch as you slip the buttons of your blouse through the little slots holding them together. Watch as you slip the shirt down your arms painfully slow, far too slow for his liking. But ever the gentleman he simply hooks his thumbs in his belt and watches, rewarding you with a low hum.

"That's my girl." His praise all but makes you purr; you like the way he calls you his. "Jus' a lil' more for me. Take that skirt off." His hand slips up your skirt and taps the side of your thigh.

You do it, work the skirt clips off along with the skirt itself until you're left in nothing but your underwear. He tosses them to the side letting them land in your pile of bags. He tugs off his sarape and works his belt, the clinking of his buckle rings out. The only other sound besides your heavy breathing is the bubbling brook next to your camp sight. Occasionally, you can hear the horses stir, but right now all you can focus on is the way Kyle strips down to nothing.

Kyle lays his gun down carefully on top of his clothes before joining you under the furs used to keep you warm. His cock nudges against your thigh, twitching against how soft it feels. You let out a shaky sigh and peer down at it, the angry red tip brushes against your skin.

"I-is that going to fit?" You ask him suddenly a bit worried, but it melts away when he takes your jaw and kisses you again.

"Darlin' we can stop at any moment. But if you'll have me, I'll make you feel real good." His hand snakes down between you two and his fingers go to spread you open.

You let out a little moan and whisper a soft, 'yes' and it's all he needs to continue. His middle finger rolls your bud gently at first until you start to squirm and push against his hand for more. He applies enough pressure to the circular motion that has you seeing stars. He continues rubbing circles on your clit and your hips buck up against his hold. It felt so good.

You moan out in pleasure when he slides two fingers into your hole with ease, your arousal making it so easy for him. He pumps his fingers in you once or twice, pushing into that spot that has your back arching off the bedroll. Kyle keeps his fingers buried in you for a moment, spreading them out and curling them in a come-hither motion. His lips find their way down on your neck, leaving faint love bites. Sucking on the exposed skin with enough force to pull a loud moan out of you.

"Kyle..." A low breathless whimper escapes your lips as he comes off your neck with a pop. "Please, please."

"Sound so pretty when you moan my name like that. Shoulda done this sooner." He works his fingers in you again, thrusting them up into you over and over again. "Fuck you're so fuckin' wet."

You're moaning so loudly you're sure if you weren't alone on the side of the road you would have woken a whole neighborhood. When you try to muffle those moans, he stops moving his fingers leaving you just teetering on the edge. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten, he can feel the way your pussy flutters around his fingers.

"That's it sweetheart, let go for me. Look at me when you cum." He holds your jaw with his free hand making you look up at him.

Your eyes widen and as you finally clench around his fingers giving you that orgasm you desperately begged for. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you until you're whining, and tears are beginning to spill from your eyes.

"Shh, I know, but I gotta make sure you're nice and prepped for me darlin' don't wanna hurt ya too bad." Kyle whispers in your ear until he pulls his fingers out of you finally. You whine at the loss of contact, suddenly feeling so empty. You watch him bring his fingers up to his lips and swirl his tongue around the digit. "Think you're ready for me baby?"

"Kyle, please. I want this, I want you!" You whimper.

"That's a good girl. Roll over on your stomach for me." He leans back up and gestures for you to do as he says.

So, you do, you roll over on your stomach and just as you do, he tucks a pillow under your stomach. His hands glide up and down your legs until they find purchase on your hips. They tighten and squeeze around your waist pulling you back against his cock. Kyle glides you back against his member, grinding your wet pussy up and down his shaft. He lets out a soft moan and lets his head lull to the side.

"Oh," He says quietly as the tip of his cock nudges against your folds, "thaaaaaat's it." Kyle slips every inch of his cock into you slowly, dragging your velvet walls back against him. He pushes and sinks deeper into you until he bottoms out.

"O-Oh god." You bury your face in the bedroll. "Fuck feels so good."

"You have no fuckin' idea..." He grips your hips and begins slowly thrusting in and out of you, "how many times I've thought about fuckin' you senseless. How bad I just wanted to make you fuckin' mine!" His voice comes out in a breathless moan over your desperate cries.

" 'm yours!" You're a mess at this point and he hasn't done much but finger you and start a lazy pace. Each time he drags his cock out he pulls all the way out leaving you empty again. Only to push it right back in at that antagonizing slow pace, like he's trying to get you to remember every little vein on his cock. "Please just go harder, I can take I-I promise!"

"Yeah? Want me to really fuck you baby? I was gonna take my time with ya, show you just how badly I wanted ya." Kyle bucks into you with a sharp thrust making you bounce forward, "but listen to yourself, beggin' for my cock. Beggin' me to go faster. Do it again."

You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut; the first time was easy you weren't really thinking about it. Now that he's making demands of you it makes you feel flustered. That embarrassing feeling of having him looking down at your wrecked form washes over you. When his fingers card through your hair and grip the base of your roots, you let out a shocked gasp.

"Darlin' I believe I asked you to do somethin'. I ain't exactly a patient man right now. Not from the way you're squeezin' me soooo tight." He nudges your insides with a lazy little thrust. All it does is make you moan and claw at the bedroll.

"Please Kyle! Please, please, please" You're reduced to nothing but moans and whines. Begging him to do something, anything!

He seems satisfied with that from the way he pulls you back against his chest. Pulling your head out from the bedroll and letting your moans ring out into the night. With a quick slap against your ass, he begins to pick up the pace. The length of his cock claiming you and pounding into you. Your heart rate spikes as he pushes into you deeper than his fingers could reach. He hits that spot in your pussy that his fingers hit earlier, the one that has you seeing stars and drooling. Kyle lets out a moan when your cunt tightens around him again, one that lets you know just how good you make him feel.

"So fuckin' tight. You take me so fuckin' good baby, like you were made for me. Made to take this cock. Fuck gotta feel you cum around my cock this time. That's it, that's it." Kyle grunts and takes his hand out of your hair. Snaking it around your form he grinds his fingers against your clit again.

Your eyes roll up to the back of your head from everything. The way his cock bullies your insides, how his fingers assault the already sensitive bundle of nerves, and the way he spouts filth in your ear. The praise makes you feel so good, puts you in a head space you've never been in before. The only thing you can think about is what he tells you to. Right now, he wants you to cum around his cock, so you do. You don't even register it until it happens. Until his hips begin to lose that rhythm and he stops pulling out as much.

But when your walls clamp down around him like they had done his fingers, milking him for everything he's worth, he lets out a low moan. He calls your name, not a pet name or the fake name that you've been accustomed to. Your name.

"That's it baby. Fuck I love you, fuck I love you." There isn't so much as a second thought as he just repeats how much he loves you. After one final hard thrust he's spilling into you, filling you with his hot cum. He empties until it's dripping down your thighs, creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

Both of your bodies were wet with sweat from being pressed together. What little strength he has keeps him from collapsing on top of you. His chest pressed against your back, your hearts beating in unison. Eventually Kyle sits back up and slips his cock out of you, carefully lowering you down onto your bedroll again.

You look up at him with an exhausted smile, absent mindedly pushing stray curls out of his face. He looks down at you and smiles in return, he takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm. That afterglow of sex that clings to you and the way you look disheveled has to be his new favorite sight. You guide him down towards your chest and let him rest his head against your heartbeat. He closes his eyes and holds you close.

"I love you too." You say after a while, not sure if he's asleep or not from the way he hasn't stirred.

"Be mighty awkward if ya didn't." Kyle murmurs in between your chest, placing a gentle kiss onto your collarbone.

"Took you long enough to confess." You joke.

"Yeah...don't know what I was thinkin'. Guess I just didn't wanna put them feelin's out there if you weren't inclined to stick around. You got dreams of settlin' down somewhere quiet..."

"Nothing says you can't be there with me when I do."

"I don't know if I could ever go back to a quiet life like that...I don't think I deserve somethin' like that."

"Oh hush." You cup his face and bring it up to yours. "Don't ever wanna hear you talk like that again Broflovski. You're a good man, I told you that before. I don't love bad men."

"You ain't ever been wrong before."

"Wasn't wrong when I went out to find you all of them months ago. I ain't about to start."

"Ain't?"

"Huh?"

"You said ain't. Never heard you talk like that before, usually you talk all proper like. I think you're pickin' up my accent."

"Go back to laying your head down!" You huff and shove his face back down into your chest which only makes him chuckle.

"If I get to wake up to somethin' like this every day.... I reckon I can see myself settlin' down. Maybe we can get a little farm, start our own little ranch."

"I like that...we can send a letter to your brother, and he can join us."

Kyle smiles warmly at that. You remembered his brother, that conversation on the road that started all this. He closes his eyes and begins to picture it all. You and him tucked away in some area in Colorado with his brother who he hasn't seen in years. Maybe down the road you could change your last name to his. His hand finds yours and he rubs his thumb over your ring finger. Imagining a little metal ring, one that matches his.

The road’s starting to look a lot less lonely.

<- Previous Chapter

[jebewonmorelike]

Chocolate Milk

wc: 4.8k pronouns: none used; n/a -- reader has femme best friend warnings: angstttt, fluffy ending, matthew being mean, swearing, mention of alcohol, matthew is a stranger and reader has to live with him, financial struggle/unemployment, a few inappropriate jokes but nothing explicit (think pg-13), consumption of a concerning amount of chocolate milk over a 6 week period warnings for spicy cut-scene: suggestive/mature themes; minors dni (link is here and will also be in the fic for the appropriate context and placement; fic makes perfect sense without cut scene as well it's just for funsies) summary: a down-on-their-luck reader has to crash on bandmemberandgymrat!matthew's couch for the foreseeable future. a couple problems with this: matthew is incredibly hot and also a major asshole ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ OH MY GOD. IT'S DONE. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO. I DID IT. THIS ONE NEARLY ENDED ME WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED IT. i hope you LOVE it; matthew is for sure more like woohyun in this and he is hot and so mean and cocky and... enjoy this, please i'm begging you. &lt;3

Why me?

You had been screaming this question over and over again in your head for the past twenty minutes. Your friend had texted you this afternoon that she'd finally found a contact who had a place for you to crash for awhile. The address she sent you had been a bit far away from the place you were currently crashing and you didn't have enough money for an Uber, so after an hour on the subway this evening and a thirty minute walk after that, you had finally knocked on the door of the apartment your friend had sent you to.

The boy that had opened the door, though shorter in height was muscular and sported several tattoos-- and you knew this because he had greeted you in a black, fitted tank top and boxers. Albeit, you had been quite a bit later than you said you would be, but the fact that he hadn't said more than ten words to you since you'd arrived with your suitcase in hand wasn't helping you to forgive his too-comfortable appearance.

Standing a few feet behind him in the kitchen area, you watch as the boy opens the refrigerator door. Fishing into one of the drawers, he pulls out a water bottle and tosses it to you.

He fails to warn you of the incoming object, however, and before you can scramble to catch it, it connects with your face.

You stare at each other for a long moment until you feel something tickling the skin beneath your nose.

"You're bleeding," the boy says, still expressionless as he continues to stare at you. "And you suck at catching things."

Bringing your hand up to your face, you run your fingers across the skin that is tingling under your nose. He was right: bright, red blood is coating your fingertips.

"Oh, um," you mumble, looking around for something to wipe your nose with. "Is--... Do you have a--?"

A tissue box hurtling towards your face shuts you up as your hands reach up in a panic to catch it.

"Better that time," the boy says, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in amusement.

Pulling a tissue from the tissue box, you dab it around your nose to remove the blood that is still flowing from it. You swallow nervously, glaring at the boy who has been nothing but rude to you this entire time.

He takes a sip from the glass of chocolate milk sitting beside him before placing it on the island counter that he's leaning against. "Is it broken?"

"What?" You ask, brow furrowing softly.

"Your nose," he responds, meeting your gaze again. "Is it broken?"

You frown. "I doubt it. It doesn't even hurt really."

"Damn," he says, shaking his head. "Disappointing."

Your eyebrows raise incredulously at the boy's words. "Were you trying to break my nose!?"

"Nah, of course not," he denies, turning to look at his right bicep. He prods the muscle before adding, "Just kind of pathetic that I couldn't, you know? Guess I've gotta up my reps from now on."

You're not sure when your jaw started dropping, but it clearly had no intention of stopping any time soon. "You--... You--."

Before you can say anything else, the boy places his empty glass in the sink and walks out of the kitchen area and towards his bedroom-- leaving you entirely speechless. After a moment of internally screaming 'wtf', you turn around to yell at him.

"HEY!" You shout, catching the boy just as he's about to shut the door to his bedroom. "What are you doing!?"

"Closing the door," he answers simply, starting to close the door again.

"Closing the--," you say, tongue pressed to your cheek as you look up to the ceiling and shake your head in disbelief. "This was a terrible mistake. I’m leaving.”

Walking towards the apartment door, you wrap your hand around the handle of your suitcase and pull it behind you. As you reach the door, you turn the knob and throw it open in a huff…

Only to suddenly feel your suitcase gain 100 pounds.

You tug at it uselessly to try to get it to budge, but eventually you are forced to give up and turn back around to see what the problem is.

Finding the suitcase handle, your breath hitches when you see a hand gripping the blue plastic next to yours. You follow that veiny hand up past the arm its connected to until you’re finally looking its owner in the eye.

You swallow hard, not knowing how to properly react as you pull the suitcase harder. “Let go.”

He does, but the sudden lack of equal and opposite force on the suitcase sends you flying back against the door— shutting it closed behind you in the process.

The boy steps towards you, your heart racing in response as your mind runs through all the possible ways he could kill you and dispose of your body.

Click.

His fingers turn the lock on the doorknob.

Clank.

He locks the deadbolt above it.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” You shout suddenly, no longer able to contain your fear.

He stares at you for a moment, face less than a foot away from yours. Then, he snorts. “I was actually trying to keep you from getting killed. I don’t know if you noticed, but this building isn’t in that great of an area. The guy down the hall got murdered at the vending machine at 10 P.M. just last week actually.”

You blink back at him, wide eyed.

“But if you'd prefer to go out there, I’ll just go ahead and open this door up for you and you can—.”

You turn around, pressing your hands against the door to keep him from opening it. “I’ll just… stay here. But only for tonight.”

“Sure you will.”

You frown, turning back around to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you have nowhere else to go, so,” the boy says, face expressionless. “You wouldn’t be trying to shack up on some rando’s couch for the foreseeable future if you weren’t.”

You sigh. The asshole is unfortunately right.

“I go to the gym early every morning and I have band practice until late at night-- which I missed tonight for you; who decided it was polite and reasonable to be two hours late without even sending a text," he says, walking back towards his room. “But what I'm getting at is: you won't see me unless you're trying to. So I'll know if you're trying to."

Scoffing, you stand there with your suitcase in this bastard of a man’s apartment-- completely helpless to the situation at hand.

“But if I hear so much as a peep out of you while I’m sleeping, you’re out on the street-- do you hear me?”

He doesn't wait for you to answer. Instead, he shuts the door to his room closed; leaving you alone in the combined kitchen and living area in the small one bedroom apartment. Resignedly, you slink towards the couch and sit down; finally pulling out your phone to text your friend after experiencing this utter disaster that she had set you up for.

BITCH WTF

???

this man is the rudest, most insufferable human being in the world. why did u tell me to go live with him

Matthew? Insufferable? Maybe a bit abrasive but...

he threw a water bottle at my face so hard my nose bled and then got upset when he found out it wasn't broken

Awww... I think he likes you :)

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? he's a fucking crazy person

You just don't know each other yet. Don't worry too much about it. You needed a place to stay and you got one... Beggars can't be choosers

watch it

Gn xx

You throw your phone down beside you onto the couch, lying down on your back as you curse your friend.

Matthew...

He hadn't even had the common courtesy to introduce himself. In fact, you would've gone on not knowing his name if it wasn't for your friend having told you just now.

Luckily, even in the strange new environment, exhaustion begins to take over after the long train ride and walk you'd been on all evening. Sinking into the old, leather couch and pulling the navy blue throw blanket draped on its arm over your body, you eventually drift off while scrolling through TikTok as the hum of the refrigerator lulls you to sleep.

~

A few days pass quietly in this way. Though Matthew had claimed you'd never see him unless you tried, you'd found it easy at first to get a glimpse of him when he came in through the apartment door around 2 A.M. every night. The click of the doorknob and clank of the deadbolt always stirred you from your sleep, though you'd keep your eyes closed as he walked past where you laid on the couch.

But one night, just as you were falling back to sleep after Matthew had come home about a half hour prior, you hear his bedroom door click open.

Curiously, you watch as Matthew walks to the fridge, opening the door and peering inside. In the refrigerator light, you can’t help but notice that his features are much softer and sleepier than usual.

“Stop staring,” he says suddenly, jolting you upright on the couch.

You stare at him wide-eyed in the dim light, not sure whether to deny his claim or not. “I wasn’t staring. I—.”

“So why were you pretending to be asleep, huh?” He challenges, eyes boring into you. When you fail to answer, he concludes, “That’s what I thought.”

Matthew sticks his head back in the fridge for a moment before resurfacing— a puzzled look on his face. “Huh.”

“What?”

He closes the refrigerator door, holding up the new carton of chocolate milk you had picked up from the corner store down the street that afternoon. “Where did this come from?”

“I got it today,” you answer with a shrug. “I saw you were out so I grabbed some on my way back here.”

Matthew blinks back at you for several seconds, the puzzled look on his face unfading even after your explanation. He walks to the cupboard and pulls out a glass, setting it on the table as he unscrews the cap of the carton and pours. "I didn't ask you to do that."

Your eyebrows raise in shock at his condemnation of the favor you'd attempted to do for him. "Bastard," you mumble under your breath.

"Don't waste your money," he says, bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the liquid in less than three seconds. "You're supposed to be saving it," he scolds as he sets the glass in the sink, walking out of the kitchen and back to his room.

"And go to bed."

That's all Matthew says before the door to his bedroom slams shut once more.

~super spicy cut scene 🌶️ HERE 🌶️... minors dni ... continue reading below ... rest of story makes full sense without additional scene so return here after reading or SKIP IF YOU ARE A MINOR~

~

You don't see Matthew again for another week. You've been exercising again, tiring your body out so you can sleep well on the old leather couch that you now call your bed. You wake up each morning and its as if the boy had never come home at all.

The only sign of his existence is another empty glass in the sink, which had undoubtedly been filled with chocolate milk the night before while you were sleeping just a few feet away.

You wash each new empty glass every morning. He must notice, but he never says anything.

You've applied to several music teaching jobs, but haven't made it past the interview stage for any of them so far. Most of them say they're looking for someone with more recent experience at this point. You're now considering branching out to any field that will hire you.

You're asleep by 10 P.M. tonight, a long walk that accidentally ended up being mostly uphill turning your legs to jelly as they melted into the beat-up couch. It's one of the soundest sleeps you've ever had, until a soft melody begins to wake you...

Eyes fluttering awake much to your chagrin, you look around the room expecting to see light flooding through the windows. You're surprised instead when the only light you see is leaking through a crack in Matthew's bedroom door.

The strumming of an acoustic guitar, accompanied by a gentle male voice is what must have woken you. You sit upright, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you grab your phone from the end table and check the time.

2:34 A.M. He must've just gotten home from band practice, you think. Why is he still playing?

Curiously, you stand up and tiptoe to Matthew's bedroom door. He hadn't shut it all the way and you can see him in the reflection of his standing mirror. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black, fitted tank top as he works the guitar-- eyes closed and brows furrowed tensely as he sings with it.

He looks hot.

You shake your head quickly, expelling the troubling thought as soon as it pops into your head and correcting it:

He looks frustrated.

You listen closer, trying to catch the lyrics or the tone of the song. Matthew's voice is a lot better than you thought it would be. You had secretly been hoping he sucked so that you could hold it over the asshole's head forever. But he doesn't suck. And far from it...

But there is something slightly off. You place your ear closer to the door, trying to figure out what the problem is. As he holds out the last note of a particular phrase, it hits you.

And you accidentally hit the door, sending it flying open as Matthew's eyes meet yours through the mirror. You grimace awkwardly as he stares back at you unamusedly.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

You step into Matthew's bedroom, looking around through sleepy eyes at each corner. You were surprised to find he had a bed frame and not an old, messy mattress on the floor. He had seemed like the type.

"You woke me up," you say with a frown. "Why are you allowed to make noise while I'm sleeping?"

"Because I'm the only one paying rent," he says simply, raising a small glass of what looks to be whiskey to his lips.

Your brows furrow defensively. "I was going to help with rent."

"With what money?" He asks rhetorically, setting the glass back down on his desk. "Have you found a job yet?"

Chewing your cheek in defeat, you answer softly, "No."

"Mm," he hums in response, returning his attention to his guitar.

"But I've been trying," you add, folding your arms across your chest. "Really hard. It's just that my field is... saturated."

"Mmhm," he mumbles dismissively. You shake your head, rolling your eyes at the boy who you were now forced to coexist with.

"Whatever. I was actually gonna tell you you sounded nice," you say, walking back towards the door. "But you actually sounded pretty flat so. Choke on a dick."

You're just about to step back into the living area when Matthew calls softly behind you, "Did I actually sound flat?"

You turn around and nod at him, taking in his curious expression for a moment. "It's most noticeable on the ending pitches."

"I knew it," he says, sighing in defeat.

This is the first time you've ever seen real emotion from Matthew. He's definitely upset that he's not sounding the way he wants to. It's refreshing to see him give a shit about something for once.

"It's because you're lingering on your consonants too long," you advise calmly as his eyes meet yours. "You need to get to your vowels faster or you're gonna stay under the pitch."

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "How do you know that? What are you-- some sort of vocal coach?"

"Uh," you stumble, smiling awkwardly back at him. "Yeah, actually."

"No you're not," he accuses with a frown. "I've never heard you sing before. Not even once."

"Obviously. I'm not allowed to make a peep while you're here or you'll kick me out, remember?"

Matthew leans back in his desk chair. "You're being for real? You're really a trained vocal coach?"

You nod, pressing your lips together. "I'm also a jazz saxophonist. Turns out neither are very lucrative professions."

He's silent-- just staring back at you as if he's lost in thought.

"You have a good voice, though," you say, walking towards the door once more when it seems like he's not going to respond to you again tonight. "And I liked the song. But I think it could use some work."

You take one last look at him, his face soft and sleepy like it had been that night a few days after you'd just moved in. He's gazing down at his guitar, tapping his fingers against the body lightly before you finally close the door.

~

"Well I've been afraid of changing, 'cause I built my life around you..."

The lyrics flow out of you as the hot water hits your body and falls down to the floor of the shower beneath you. Matthew might live in a shitty apartment building, but one thing they did have...

Good water pressure.

"But time makes you bolder; even children get older and I'm feeling older, too..."

Thud.

You freeze as you hear a loud noise come from the other side of the bathroom door. A million thoughts race through your head, but one sticks out most of all: is someone else in the apartment?

Matthew wouldn't be home for hours. And you'd deadbolted the door to the apartment...

Hadn't you?

Fight response kicking in, you shut off the water and fling open the shower curtain. Wrapping a large towel around you, you open the bathroom door and step into the living area cautiously. Walking around, you look for any signs of an intruder but, after a thorough search... you don't find any.

What you do find is your phone on the ground next to the couch, when you were sure you'd placed it on the end table. But with the windows open and the summer evening breeze blowing into the apartment, you try to convince yourself as best you can that your phone has simply fallen off its perch.

Changing into your pajamas, you watch TV for a while before falling asleep for the night on your makeshift bed.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

The light buzzing against your chest wakes you up, looking around in a daze for the culprit. Finally, you locate your phone and bring it up to your face; blinking the sleep away as you read the screen as best as you can.

3:57 A.M.

Mom

Decline Accept

You decline the call quickly after reading the time, instead texting your mother:

i can't talk. what's wrong?

Your mom types back fast, as expected:

Nothing's wrong honey! Just wanted to give you a head's up that we had to put your dad's gambling debt on your debit card this month. Luv u x

Your heart jumps to your throat. "No, no, no, no, no," you whisper as your fingers frantically find your mobile banking app. You tap it open, clicking through to your account total which now reads:

-$3,367

Suddenly, you're nauseous and scared and devastated all at once. You had saved $300 in the time since you'd gotten your part-time job at the Italian restaurant around the corner from you two weeks ago. And just like that, you were in serious debt once more.

Would this nightmare ever end?

You're not sure when you started sobbing, but the tears are flowing and they're now a completely unstoppable force. Covering your mouth with your hand, you attempt to stifle the sound of your crying as much as you feasibly can.

But it's all in vain.

The door to Matthew's room flies open, anger radiating off of him. But then he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, reopening them after a moment to stare blankly back at you. He's unmoving as you continue to sob until he finally walks past you to the kitchen area.

Matthew opens the refrigerator door, pulling out a fresh carton of chocolate milk. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a glass before filling it up halfway. He returns to the carton to the fridge and walks over to where you're sitting on the couch, glass in hand.

"Because you're crying like a giant baby, I figured you might need some milk," the boy says, hand with the glass extending out to you.

His words are harsh and sarcastic, but his expression is surprisingly soft. You notice his hair is slightly messy from sleep and his cheeks are puffier than usual. He looks almost innocent...

"Do I have to beat someone up?" He asks quietly.

Suddenly, you realize: this glass of chocolate milk could be Matthew's version of an olive branch.

You take the glass from his hand, slowly bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. You hold the glass in your lap as you meet his gaze.

"I hope not," you say softly. "Considering you wouldn't even be able to break their nose..."

Matthew blinks at you for a few seconds before a sudden grin lights up his face. His smile is broad and happy and if you weren't already sitting down, it would've knocked you off your feet.

The crinkles in the corner of his eyes are youthful and endearing and the laugh that comes out of him is enough to light the entire apartment in the dark.

What the fuck is going on?

When he sees you staring back at him confused, he coughs lightly in what seems to be embarrassment as he averts your gaze. "Go to sleep," he says, walking back to his room quickly. "You can keep crying in the morning."

Though Matthew's words themselves aren't overly comforting, there's something behind them-- something in his voice or maybe the way he glances at back at you before closing the door-- that makes you think that the boy who had once been disappointed he didn't break your nose... might actually give a shit about you after all.

~

"HOLY FUCK!" You scream, bolting upright from your sleep the next morning when you open your eyes to Matthew staring back at you.

He smirks. "A good face to wake up to, right?"

"No," you say, gripping your heart with your hand. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I hope I didn't," he says, standing up from where he's sitting on the floor in front of you. "You're not getting a new couch no matter how much you shit on it."

"You're more chipper than usual this morning," you say, stretching your arms above your head before dropping them to your lap in sudden realization. "Wait... It's the morning! You're not supposed to be here!"

Matthew laughs, walking over to the kitchen island and grabbing his keys. "Come on. We're going."

"What?" You ask confusedly. "Going where?"

"To breakfast," he answers simply.

"Why would we--?"

"Because there's no food in the house," he answers plainly again.

You frown. "I was gonna go pick up some groceries yesterday, but--."

"But you didn't," he cuts you off again quickly. "So you have 100 seconds to get ready and then we're going."

You blink at him, wondering what on earth had gotten into this man.

"100... 99... 98..." Matthew begins counting down; the sudden pressure causing you to jump to your feet, grab some clothes from your suitcase next to the couch and run to the bathroom.

Panicking, you brush your teeth and wash the sleep from your eyes before changing into the jeans and shirt you had haphazardly plucked from your suitcase. Fixing your hair, you can hear Matthew still counting faintly from outside the bathroom door.

You fling it open just as he's about to say "seven"; brushing past him to grab your phone from the couch.

"Oh look at you," he says, a smug little smile on his lips. "So efficient with your time."

"Let's just go," you mumble, unlocking the door to the apartment and stepping outside in a huff as you watch the smile on Matthew's face only grow wider.

~

"Can I have your cream?"

Your eyes widen in shock. "My--... my cream?"

"Yeah, your coffee cream," he says, pointing to the tiny containers of milk creamer that you've left untouched next to your coffee cup. "If you're not gonna use it."

"I--... I am gonna use it actually, thank you very much," you huff out, trying to shake the image that Matthew had unknowingly created from your mind as you pick up one of the creamer packets and dump it into your coffee.

You look up at Matthew as you place the empty container down to find the infuriatingly attractive boy smirking at you-- teeth lightly biting down on the left side of his bottom lip.

"Did you think I meant something else?" He asks with a cocky chuckle.

You pour the second packet of creamer into your coffee, exhaling deeply as you chew your cheeks to keep yourself from screaming. "If you had, I would've poured this hot coffee down your shirt."

"I'll admit that's a very creative way to get a glimpse under my shirt," Matthew counters, leaning back in the booth seat and folding his arms across his chest. He positions his forearms just under where his pectoral muscles end, humorously trying to emphasize them for you.

It is unfortunately having its desired affect on you.

"If I had known that you stopping being so rude to me would lead to you amping up the inappropriate flirting I would've--."

"Tried to make it happen sooner?" Matthew says, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

You pick up your spoon and dunk it in your coffee cup, stirring a little too aggressively as some of the hot liquid splashes onto the table. You're about to grab a napkin to wipe up the small spill, but a veiny, slightly-calloused hand beats you to it.

He dabs up the spill with his napkin and retracts his hand before meeting your gaze again. "I know you're in serious debt."

You stare back at him, not sure whether or not to deny his accusation. Ultimately, you're too curious to fight back. "How do you know?"

"You left your phone open," he says nonchalantly. "When I was getting ready to go to the gym this morning, your bank info was just lying there."

You laugh sadly. "Good thing I have nothing to steal."

"I thought you were working at that restaurant on 5th Street," he says, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "What happened to that?"

"Nothing happened," you say, staring into your own cup of coffee. "I'm still working there."

"And you haven't managed to save anything?" He asks, eyes free of their usual judgment. "Is that why you were upset?"

Slowly, you shake your head. Why you were about to divulge your personal information to a virtual stranger (albeit a virtual stranger that you live with) was beyond you. But you answer honestly anyway, "My parents charged their own debt to my account this month. It's not the first time they've done it. It won't be the last."

Matthew studies you for a second. "Does that have anything to do with why you had nowhere to live in the first place?"

"I was fine paying it off for a while, each time they'd add a new charge. I'd just spend a little less that month. A lotta less, actually. But I was fine," you explain slowly. "But when the pandemic hit, the arts school I was teaching at closed down. And so did a lot of other arts and music programs across the country. And I just haven't been able to find a job or recover financially since."

The boy sitting across from you is quiet for a few moments, taking a sip of his coffee and placing the cup back down on its saucer. You think maybe he's reached his talking quota for the day, when he suddenly says, "I know someone who needs a vocal coach."

You tilt your head curiously to the side. "Who?"

"Me."

Unfortunately you'd taken a sip of your coffee just before Matthew had given his answer. You choke slightly as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe from the shock; clearing your throat before responding, "WHAT!?"

"Someone whose band just got signed to a local record label is gonna need a good vocal coach, don't you think?"

You watch as a smile grows on his face; the sun suddenly making an appearance smack-dab in the middle of Joe's City Diner. It's impossible to keep the corners of your lips from also turning up when your roommate has suddenly decided to start being the cutest person you've ever seen before.

"That's--... That's amazing," you congratulate him. "Breakfast is on m--."

"Me," he says with a laugh. "It's on me. Unless we're dining and ditching. But I wanna be able to keep coming back here, so let's just let me pay, yeah?"

A little embarrassed, you nod in agreement. "Right."

"Plus, it's my way to convince you to be my vocal coach," he says with a smirk. "Is it working?"

You sigh, a small smile forming on your lips, too. "I dunno. I'm kind of out of practice at this point..."

"I'll pay you $75/hour for two lessons a week."

"Deal," you say quickly, hand extending across the table before you can even think it through properly.

He grins, taking your hand in his and shaking it. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"You as well," you say quietly, blushing as you retract your hand. “But… can I ask why? If you have $150 to spare, you could hire anyone. And, honestly, I thought that you hated me until... Until right now, actually. Why are you helping me?”

Matthew chews his lip for a second, folding his hands in his lap. “Because you bought me chocolate milk.”

A little pout forms on your lip as you try to figure out what he’s talking about. “What?”

“When I ran out,” he says, nodding simply. “You went to the corner store and got me a new carton. When you first moved in.”

You frown. “You told me never to do that again!”

“I told you not to waste your money again,” he says shrugging. “But it was thoughtful of you… and I appreciated it.”

You blink back at him, not sure what to say to his after-the-fact thank you. After a moment, you nod-- a small smile on your lips.

He takes another sip of his coffee. "And you're not out of practice by the way."

Your eyebrows furrow, wondering what Matthew means by this.

"I heard you singing last night in the shower," he says, smiling. "I knew for sure you weren't lying when I heard you."

Suddenly, you remember the thud you had heard while showering the night before. "YOU WERE LISTENING TO ME SHOWER!?"

Matthew laughs. "I forgot my capo at home and I needed it for band practice and--..." The smile drops from his face when he realizes what you had meant. "NO! No, oh my god, no. No, no, no-- not like that I--."

"Why so defensive?" You ask with a smirk, one eyebrow cocking playfully. "Just wanted to show you I can play that game, too."

You watch relief floods his face as he grins. "I'd ask you to put your money where your mouth is, but..."

"Asshole."

His smile exudes a bit of fondness now, much different from his smirk or his sunshine-filled grin. It's soft; warm. "You have a beautiful voice."

You look down int your coffee cup, bottom lip tucking between your teeth awkwardly. "Thanks."

"And if you sing while I'm home, I won't kick you out. In fact, that can be your rent payment."

You start to shake your head in protest, but he just laughs.

"That way I don't have to eavesdrop while you shower," Matthew jokes. "Unless you want me to."

"You've got to be kidding--."

"And maybe we can get breakfast like this more often."

There's a flutter in your heart again. Just like when he'd told you to go to bed earlier this morning. His words weren't flowery or overly emotional or caring in themselves...

But it's that look in his eyes; the tone in his voice.

"Breakfast and vocal lessons it is," you agree softly. "But I get to add something to the deal too..."

He smiles at you, brows raised in anticipation.

"You share your chocolate milk with me more often."

Matthew's eyes narrow as he studies you for a moment. You think for a second that his love for chocolate milk might be too strong...

But then he nods.

"Deal."

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 17

Give someone a brand new look

Okay, I've had the idea for this one for quite a while!! Thank you Kloktober for giving me the excuse to write it.

With that said, please enjoy Toki giving Skwisgaar a brutal makeover~

“Ams you dones yet?” Skwisgaar asked, starting to get tired.

“No ways.” He heard Toki say. “Ams just getting startsteds.”

“Toke, ‘aves been heres for hoursk or twenties minutes.” Skwisgaar lowered his shoulders. “What ams you even doings?”

“Just shut ups and lets me works!” Toki told him off, though judging from the tone of his voice, he wasn’t angry.

Resigned, Skwisgaar reclined his back against the chair and kept strumming his guitar aimlessly. He was pretty sure he had been here all morning already, or at least it felt like it.

He was minding his business at the breakfast table when Toki ran up to him, telling him he needed him for something. Not quite believing the urgency Toki claimed there was, Skwisgaar followed him nevertheless, moderately curious.

When they reached Toki’s room, Toki had finally confessed he wanted to give him ‘a brutals make overs’ but he couldn’t say it in front of the rest because they would get jealous and would want one too. 

Skwisgaar had raised his eyebrow. “Amsnt makeovers for peoples to look bettors? I don’t needs one.” He frowned, preemptively offended by whatever Toki was trying to imply. “Your musk stash howevers-”

“But it ams goings to be totallies brutal!” Toki insisted, closing the distance between them with one step. “Please?” He stared at Skwisgaar with sad puppy eyes, way too close for comfort. “It wills be funs, Skwisgaar!”

Skwisgaar really hated when Toki looked at him like that, like his entire livelihood depended on this particular whim of his. “Eugh…” Fortunately for Toki, when it came matters unrelated to music, Skwisgaar was very easy to convince. “Fines.” He said, hoping he wouldn’t regret this.

…And here he was, not even allowed to open his eyes because Toki insisted on it being a surprise. Not like he could see himself with a mirror anyway, but Toki was being really stubborn about it. On the bright side, it was helping Skwisgaar practice his playing with eyes closed. He never knew when being able to play Dethklok’s entire discography with his eyes closed would come in hand. 

“Aw!” He whined when Toki pulled on his hair violently and without warning. 

Instead of apologizing, Toki scolded him instead. “Oh, you big babies!” Just as abruptly, he tugged a handful of hair from the lower part of Skwisgaar’s head

“What on Odin’s name ams you doingks?!” Skwisgaar frowned, almost opening his eyes out of annoyance.

“Ams givings you a brans new hairstyles!” Toki said, like the question was fucking stupid. “No mores of dat borings middle parteds hairs. You ams going to be a new Skwisgaar’s from now on!”

“I don’t wants to be a news-” His sentence was cut short by another pull. “Aw!” He moaned in pain. “Toki!”

“Why don’ts you tries takings a nap?” Toki sounded exasperated by now.

“Why don’ts you tries being nicers to my goldens mane?” Skwisgaar shot back. Toki didn’t reply, though he was more careful from his movements afterwards. Grumbling, Skwisgaar settled against the chair and started counting guitars. He was past a billions krillions when one of the guitars grew gigantic and swallowed him whole.

“Skwisgaar…” Something tapped his cheek and he slowly blinked his way out of dozing off.

“Eugh?” He managed, with a hoarse voice.

Toki was smiling at him. “Ams done.” He said and gave him a hand mirror. 

Quite disoriented still, Skwisgaar looked at himself in it and almost didn’t recognize the person staring back. 

His hair was tied into messy space buns, though one was visibly higher than the other and his part was made into a crooked zigzag. His lips were teal, a smudge on the corner of his mouth, shining with silver highlights. His eyelids, on the other hand, were hot pink and sort of uneven. Glittery purple blush adorned his cheeks and when Skwisgaar turned his head, he spotted holographic star stickers on the sides of his face. 

“Eugh…” Was the only thing he managed to say.

“You ams a space metal princes now!” Toki explained proudly and shoved his bear plush into Skwisgaar’s free hand. “And Deaddy Bears ams your princess whats you gots to save by killing aliens with the powers of metal!” He smiled at him. “You likes it?”

“Eugh…” Skwisgaar glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like a lady. “Toki, dis ams…”

“Yes?” Toki nodded with expectation.

Skwisgaar grimaced, hoping his expression would be telling enough. “You knows…”

Clearly, Toki did not know because he kept waiting for him to say something. Skwisgaar noticed his fingers were stained with purple and teal, hands sparkly from the glitter. Next to him, the bed was full of make-up of a wide variety of colors: lipstick, eyeshadow, powder, mascara, lip gloss, stickers, etc. And also, a lot of drawings of the space guy he was supposed to be. Something about it tugged at his heartstrings, despite his better judgement. 

He sighed. “It ams pretties cool, I guess.”

Toki beamed at him, almost insufferably so. “Ams going to takes a picktures.” He said, grabbing the polaroid on his bed. “Says cheese!”

“Wait, Tok-”

The camera made a clicking sound and the photography came out of it soon after. A delighted Toki showed him the picture. “Amsnt it cools?” He asked.

Somehow, Toki had caught him in the split-second right before his expression twisted into concern and he tried futilely to reach for the camera. Instead, it almost seemed like a glamour shot of Skwisgaar’s new look. 

He raised his eyebrows with surprise. “Hey, dat amsnt so bads.”

Toki let out a chuckle, eyes glued to the photo. “Rights?”

Smiling fondly at him, Skwisgaar momentarily forgot what they were talking about. “Ja, it looks good.”

[magniloquent-raven]

i've seen a lot of AUs messing around with what happened between Billy and Steve at the end of s2, like, what if Billy had seen the demodog, what if they made out instead of beat the shit out of each other, what if Steve hadn't lied about Max, etc. etc.

and i mean, it's not like i've read every harringrove fanfic so maybe this has actually been written before, but it just occurred to me that i've never seen someone explore what might have happened if Billy had just showed up at the Byers' like twenty minutes earlier. before everyone else left.

i just think it would be interesting because Billy has a habit of keeping his attitude mostly in check around adults, and the fact that one of those adults is a cop might keep him even more in check, so the chances of him getting violent would be much lower. but despite him being less likely to lose his shit, there's also NO chance he'd actually listen if he was told to leave without Max. and i doubt Max would be cool with leaving, no matter how angry she knows Billy is getting (maybe in part BECAUSE she knows he's already pissed, the last thing she wants is to get into a car with him right now).

the whole thing would be SO sus, because everyone would be trying to stop him from going inside but he can see Max and her friends peeking through a broken window while the goddamn chief of police tries to run interference without actually telling him anything. he'd be so stubborn about the whole thing. pretending to be polite, but not blinking an eye when Hop starts implying he's going to arrest Billy for trespassing if he doesn't back down, and Joyce has to get involved, being a mom about it, trying to convince Billy that Max is safe and he doesn't have to worry and she can call Susan if that would help.

so when nothing they say to Billy actually makes a difference they start to wonder if they should just send Max home with him, and Mike has started to get snippy with her about it, saying she should just go because if her brother ruins everything it'll be her fault, but Lucas is adamant that letting Max leave with him would be a bad idea.

and somewhere in between all the arguing Billy shoves his way into the house, where there's still a demodog dead on the floor, and Will's art project on the walls, and Will himself, knocked out in the next room. which is all very weird, but Billy's kind of on a mission here. so him and Max get into it. he can't go after Lucas this time, not with a cop twenty feet away. they just argue. loudly. angrily.

until Billy has had enough, he can't keep pretending he isn't on pins and needles, hasn't been keyed up since his confrontation with Neil. and he has to hit something. anything. nearby. he punches a dent in the nearest wall.

and it freaks El out. and something explodes.

which is just one too many weird things for Billy to ignore.

Steve steps in at the same time Hopper does, both of them unsure how Billy is going to react. except he kind of. doesn't. he's freaked out, and confused, and still angry, but he also looks just as unsure as they are.

they don't really explain it to him. not all of it. he glares at everyone in the room while they give him the stilted cliffnotes version and he doesn't seem to believe any of it.

when Joyce and Hopper leave with their respective teams, Billy gets left behind with Steve and the kids. Steve's half sure he's going to grab Max and drive off the second they can't see tail-lights anymore, and given the way Max is bracing herself, she seems to think so too.

he doesn't. he lights up a cigarette and sits on the couch by himself, ignoring everyone's uneasy stares while they sweep up glass and wood splinters.

and i mean from there it would be both harder and easier to get the kids to the tunnels lmao. could go either way but i figure Billy volunteering to drive the children to their death just because Steve was so adamant it was a bad idea would not be entirely out of character for him. and he's still not convinced any of this is real, so maybe he wants to see it for himself. and maybe he's still itching for some action. if there is some crazy shit down there...well, if he's dead he won't have to explain to Neil how bad he fucked up, so there's that.

(and on a related note i kind of love the idea that Billy would be shit at fighting monsters. like they just freak him out and he can't do it. so he goes down there into the tunnels all sure of himself and confident because he knows he can fight but the second they run into trouble he freezes up and Steve has to save his ass. which totally doesn't turn him on at all, shut up)

[princessconsuela120]

❃ FEZCO ❃

Chapter twenty-three: This Side of Paradise—❃

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: foul language, everything with teotfw and with euphoria

Authors note: Enjoy guys! All rights reserved to the show the end of the f*cking world.

—❃

Normally, alyssa always kissed me first.

“Are you okay?” I asked, pulling away from the kiss as she sighed. I could tell she was somewhere else.

“Can we wait?” She asked, her voice full of worry as she spoke to me.

“Just for a bit, like, I don't know, for a few days, is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course.

I think it is okay. We've got, like, our whole lives. Plus, she might feel like it tomorrow.

“What?”

“Nothing. I can't believe I've got a brother. I've probably got, like, loads of them. All over the place. I know he's traveled. I've probably got family in Vietnam or some shit. I think I hate my dad more than I hate my mum.” She explained, making me nod.

“Me, too. I hate both of mine, but definitely hate my dad more.” 

It was true, I hated both my parents for leaving. I grew up when I was a kid, it wasn’t fair. My dad was a gangster, a bad one too. I never saw either of them ever again. Atleast my mom had the curtesy to leave me.

“Why?”

“'Cause she died and he didn't.” 

“What was she like?”

“I don’t know, I never met her. I lived with my grandma since I was a kid. She left when I was really young, so did my dad.” Alyssa sighed, smiling at me as she grabbed my hand. We sat next to each other on the beach, staring out at the water as she leaned her head against my shoulder.

“Fez?” She said softly, god I loved when she said my name.

“Yeah?”

“It wasn't your fault.” She reassured, squeezinng my hand with a smile. I smiled back, leaning my head against her with a sigh, a relieving one that seemed to let out all the stress I had been holding all my life. Somehow hearing her say that just made everything really simple. Like I knew I was gonna be okay because I had her. It's like we're at the edge of the world. Like we're safe. Only... we're not.

“We can't stay here.” She called out, seeming to think exactly what I did.

“Nope.”

“We can't go home.”

“No.”

“We should go away. Properly away. Like, somewhere foreign.”

Anywhere sounded perfect with Alyssa.

“Yeah.”

“Somewhere else completely new and start again.” She explained, pulling away from my embrace with an eager look.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to do that, too?” She asked, making me nod.

“Yes.” I really did want that. “Shit ma id follow you anywhere.” She smiled at me and I smiled back. “We could take your dad's boat. We just need the keys.” 

It's much easier to think someone's the answer if you haven't seen them for years. Because they're not really real. People can't be answers. They're just more questions. Questions like: "Why are you such a fucking useless dad?" I could tell Alyssa was regretting coming here. I could tell that by the way she chucked beer cans at her dads sleeping body.

“Ah, fuck! Ah, Alyssa! Ah! You came back! Oh, thank God. I was worried about you.” Alyssa raised an eyebrow at him as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I was. I went looking for you everywhere.”

“No, you didn't. You ran over a dog, killed it, then fucked off and left me.” She hissed, making him sigh.

“Yeah, but after that. After all that. Wait, I killed the dog? Fucking hell!” Then he laughed, he fucking laughed. I was about 10 words away from kicking this man’s ass.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I was shit-faced. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm laughing because it's bad, you know? I'm–“

“Can we go out on the boat?” Alyssa asked, catching her dad off guard.

“What?

“Your boat. Me and Fezco want to go out on it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Now.”

“Okay. Fine. Give me, like, ten minutes. I need a shit and a Berocca.

“You don't have to come with us.

“What do you mean?

“Just mean, it's cool, we'll manage. Fez is a good driver. We'll have it back by lunchtime.” 

That’s where we knew we were fucked, because instead of handing us the keys, he just chuckled. It made my skin crawl.

[maayan00sh]

taylor swift's "folklore" as a soundtrack to the ineffable divorce

i just watched season 2 last week and i processed it the way i do every emotional breakdown: by listening to taylor swift. so here it is, an analysis of how every single song on folklore is actually about aziraphale and crowley (WARNING: THIS IS REALLY LONG AND MOSTLY SAD)

the 1: for me this is aziraphale post-s2, thinking about crowley while absolutely playing light how devastated he is. you could very well read it the other way around, but this part truly rings aziraphale to me: "I persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?"

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool And if my wishes came true It would've been you

cardigan: for me this is crowley post-s2. not only because aziraphale is famous for cardigan-wearing (and for crowley being his favorite), but specifically a) "I knew you'd come back to me"--because I truly believe he believes this, no matter how much he hides it, and b) the subtle anger behind "when you are young they assume you know nothing"--because that's emblematic of the condescension crowley has always felt from heaven.

But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends, I I knew you Your heartbeat on the High Line Once in twenty lifetimes

the last great american dynasty: okay this one is definitely the biggest stretch but can't you just imagine a femme-presenting crowley fucking up a small 1920s new england town like this? "she had a marvelous time ruining everything" indeed, she did.

They say she was seen on occasion Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green

exile: this is what inspired this whole post, because EVERYTHING about this duet is immediate s2 fallout. "all this time, we always walked a very thin line"? "all this time, i never learned to read your mind, i couldn't turn things around"? PLEASE.

bon iver's part is crowley, completely blindsided by aziraphale's betrayal:

And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

taylor's part is aziraphale:

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

"he's just your understudy"--this is the metatron (or heaven as a whole), temporarily filling in crowley's key role in aziraphale's life. aziraphale KNOWS crowley would be totally jealous, but he's tired of "balancing on breaking branches."

my tears ricochet: absolutely crowley upon meeting with aziraphale again post-s2. no matter what the context, he's determined to remind him or just how badly he fucked up.

reading this from crowley's perspective is just SO MUCH:

And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me?

there are layers of references to crowley's Fall here, but also to the end of their relationship:

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

there IS no home for crowley anymore, but it's almost like he takes pleasure in knowing aziraphale must be miserable in heaven:

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones

...

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears

mirrorball: aziraphale through the ages, literally doing The Most to attract crowley's interest and attention (magicianry anyone?!)

"hush, when no one is around, my dear"--this is a reference to how they've had to maintain a facade of plausible deniability over the years, but "i'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you"--i'm doing everything to show you what you mean to me.

"i'll show you every version of yourself tonight"--he's tried over and over to show crowley the goodness that he completely believes is still inside him.

And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

seven: this song is crowley reminiscing about the origins of their relationship. as we know, he might not even remember much of anything pre-Fall ("though I can't recall your face"), but despite that, despite the fact that nowhere (in scriptures) is their love story written down--"just like a folk song, our love will be passed on."

the sweetness of the lyrics also speaks to me of their past, quiet moments with each other where things were simple, they indulged in earthly pleasures and no one needed to know:

Sweet tea in the summer Cross my heart, won’t tell no other

august: another crowley reflecting post-s2. "august" is the little window between s1 and s2 when they were able to "not really" pretend--"august slipped away like a moment in time." despite the fleeting pleasure ("august sipped away like a bottle of wine"), it was never going to be permanent ("'cause you were never mine").

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose

this is me trying: in my imagined s3, when aziraphale comes back and is trying to make amends, this will be his anthem.

I've been having a hard time adjusting I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that

that is, his new position in heaven? absolutely was not what he hoped it would be. not being sure if crowley would still be there for him like he once was, knowing that he messed up, constantly thinking about what was and could have been...

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

illicit affairs: once again, crowley's heartbreak post-s2. (many people read this as a song about infidelity, but i see it as being about a secret relationship and the way it destroys the people in it. "take the words for what they are--a dwindling mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times." whatever they had, however real was, it's dwindling now. it's gone.

this is 100% about the emotional toll that keeping their relationship a secret from heaven and hell has taken:

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie and they lie and they lie A million little times

as long as aziraphale keeps believing in the moral rightness of the hierarchy of heaven over hell, they have no choice but to lie about the full extent of their relationship. and that is what makes aziraphale ultimately leave for heaven and leave crowley broken behind him.

And you wanna scream Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else ... And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times

invisible string: can it be? a happy love song?

obviously, this is about the "invisible string" that keeps pulling them together over the years. i read it from aziraphale's POV tonally but could go either way. "hell was the journey but it brought me heaven"--honestly this is equally applicable to gabriel and beelzebub.

Time, mystical time Cutting me open, then healing me fine Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

mad woman: this is not a dynamic that i really see happening, but i can imagine a fanfic where heavenly!aziraphale essentially gaslights crowley about their past relationship and this is crowley's emotional response.

Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

epiphany: in general i think this song is about trauma. for me it invokes specifically the trauma of crowley's fall/the great war, because "with you i serve, with you i fall down." of course, we don't get a lot of them talking about this explicitly, because "some things you just can't speak about."

despite them living for literally ever, they always seem to be on the brink of some crisis that re-awakens crowley's primary trauma of being expelled for asking questions.

Only twenty minutes to sleep But you dream of some epiphany Just one single glimpse of relief To make some sense of what you've seen

betty: this gives very much "aziraphale comes back to the bookshop post-s2 and asks for forgiveness" vibes, which... I don't know exactly if that's how I believe it will happen, but i certainly think "the worst thing that i ever did is what i did to you" applies.

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself Or lead me to the garden? In the garden, would you trust me If I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

peace: oh, this one hurts. crowley reflects post-s2 and wonders if he was ever really enough for aziraphale anyway. "i never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near, and it's just around the corner, darling, because it lives in me"--if they were together, they would always be hounded by heaven and hell, just for being who they were, and in the past crowley has definitely tried to hide out of fear from hell. if that's the only life he can give aziraphale... is it enough?

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best But the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me

hoax: another heartbreaker for post-s2 crowley. somehow these lyrics feel so specific to them, too. "your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in"--feels like a dig at aziraphale's failed career as a magician. "don't want no other shade of blue but you"--aziraphale's blue eyes in heaven. "my only one, my smoking gun"--the 1941 gun trick. "my kingdom come undone"--the collapse of our side.

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue but you No other sadness in the world would do

the lakes (bonus track): i read this as aziraphale daydreaming about going back to crowley almost immediately after choosing to go to heaven. "i'm not cut out for all of these cynical clones, these hunters with cell phones"--he immediately feels how much he doesn't fit in with heaven's bureaucracy. "i've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze tell me what are my words worth"--this almost feels like a reference to the bookshop, the other archangels sneering at what used to be his home, his everything.

against that backdrop, he dreams of the romantic landscapes of his victorian novels, and of course, of crowley with him again.

Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse--no, not without you

And that's it! I hope you didn't cry as much as I did making this post! Or, if you did, that you now have some cathartic music to listen to about it!