#but i finally did a t shot and saw some friends so i remembered what emotional stability was again

[starbuck]

just over here casually suffering, as one does.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

idk if ur asks are open but PLEASE MORE LOGAN X READER X KURT

also... belly dancer reader if u want (why? because every chubby reader is either fetishized, insecure, or it has nothing to do w the plot/character)

if you want it to be the same story go off but also if you want it to be seperate go off do what u wanna do

~For Fear That You Find Out How I'm Imagining You~

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader x Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: oral (f receiving), Kurt and Logan run they MOUTHS, implied sex and a bunch of sexual advances, Kurt is super nervy

Genre: fluff, & some smut

Summary: Logan and Kurt can't keep their eyes off of you when they see you through a window I won't deny I've got in my mind now // All the things I would do // So I try to talk refined for fear that you find out // How I'm imagining you ~ Talk by Hozier

A/N: Honey my asks are always open xoxo gossip girl lowkey all my readers are plus sized because I am and write with myself in mind but I'm happy to write one that says so explicitly!! Thank you for the request darling. This took much of my brainpower but man did I enjoy writing it

***

You walk around the room as your students practice their hip control.

"Remember everyone, belly dancing is a combination of sharp and smooth. You wanna make it easily distinguishable when you stick something versus milking it. Luckily, the music will absolutely guide you through where to hit things." You say correcting people's posture as you weave between them.

"Can you show it to us again? Like can we see you do it?" One of your students, Max, asks.

"Yeah sure!" You say walking to the front again. You show an example of the moves you've been having them practice. Caught up in your class, you don't even notice the duo whose attention you manage to capture through the large glass windows of your studio.

"Logan, look." Kurt smacks his friend on the chest.

"What? You wanna take a dance class or something?" Logan quirks an eyebrow at him.

"No! Well- do you think that's the way to talk to her?" Kurt's brows furrow.

"Talk to who man?" Logan frowns.

"That woman. The one teaching the class. She's gorgeous don't you think Logan?" Kurt says. Logan looks through the window curiously to check you out. You're wearing a cropped shirt and a pair of shorts that sit low on your wide hips. As you do your choreography at the front of the room Logan notices the cutest little pale streaks on your sides, like tiger stripes decorating your exposed middle.

"Well yeah of course she is, you wanna meet her?" Logan asks him.

"I- I couldn't. What would I say to her?" Kurt shakes his head.

"We could start with hi." Logan shrugs.

"But she's teaching a class."

"Yeah we hang out til she's done, ask the receptionist how long she'll be in the class." He says.

"Would that not be weird?" Kurt frowns.

"Maybe but how else are we going to get a chance to talk to her?" Logan drags Kurt into the dance studio and walks up to the receptionist.

"Hey quick question, how much longer is that dance thing going on? I wanted to- talk to the instructor about what other classes she offers." Kurt is impressed with how easily Logan can come up with a lie so believable.

"It'll be over in about 10 minutes." The guy at the desk answers.

"Cool. We'll just- hang out here." Logan says taking a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting room.

"I can't believe you did that." Kurt whispers.

"Well it was that or watch her like creeps for several weeks until one of us finally works up the courage to speak to her." Logan shrugs.

"Okay but we don't have a plan, what do we say to her when the time comes?"

"We don't need a plan we just say hi and tell her the truth, that we saw her and think she's gorgeous. It can't be that difficult." Logan says.

"You say that but she might hate us."

"If she hates us we leave. She also might like us but we can't know without speaking to her. Either way we should at least give it a shot so we can be sure."

"I guess that's one way to see it." Kurt frowns.

"That's the spirit. Kinda." Logan claps a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Logan turns his attention to his phone, leaving Kurt to his thoughts.

"I can't speak to her." Kurt says suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Logan frowns at him.

"I'm having thoughts that would require more hail marys than I can count in order to repent for them. I can't speak to her." He shakes his head.

"Why? You think she's a mind reader?" Logan scoffs.

"You can't prove that she isn't!"

"Okay well for the sake of not sounding like a paranoid set of weirdos, let's assume she's not because we have no evidence to support that she is. In which case, most days you won't even say a curse word you're not gonna get in there and start spouting all the dirty dirty things you want to do to her. You'll be fine." Logan says.

"I can't think of anything else." Kurt says, eyes wide.

"Fine then I'll do most of the talking all you have to do is stand there. Looks like the class is over, show time." Logan pulls Kurt through the group of people currently heading out of the building and slips into the studio where you're organizing your things while you drink your water.

"Excuse me?" You turn at the sound of someone's voice. You know it's not one of your students before you even turn around.

"Hi, can I help you gentlemen?" You ask the pair.

"Hi, I'm Logan and this is Kurt."

"Okay, and what brings you into my studio Logan and Kurt?" You tilt your head.

"We saw you through the giant window and we hope this doesn't read as badly as it could but we just had to come in here and tell you how gorgeous we think you are." Logan says.

"You came all the way in here to tell me you think I'm gorgeous?"

"Well yeah, why not." Logan shrugs.

"Hm. And uh, do you speak, Kurt, or does Logan do all the talking for the both of you?" You turn your attention to the silent one of the duo.

"I speak. Hi." Kurt says quickly.

"Are you nervous?" You ask him. Kurt glances at Logan. "Don't look at him, I asked you. I know he's not nervous."

"I'm- a little nervous. I wouldn't normally do something like this." He admits.

"Well what's different today?" You ask.

"Logan sort of dragged me in here."

"So then which of you thinks I'm gorgeous?" You cross your arms.

"Both of us." Kurt says.

"Hm. Well, thank you. Although I don't often find myself the subject of interest for a pair like this." You say grabbing your duffle bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

"First time for everything right?" Logan says.

"I guess so. Anything else you boys need or did you just want to throw a compliment at me and be on your way?"

"What's your name?" Kurt asks.

"Y/n." You smile.

"Beautiful." He practically sighs.

"Thank you."

"Would it be hubristic to ask if we could take you out?" Kurt asks.

"The both of you?" You ask and again Kurt looks at Logan who this time looks at him too as if they're discussing something unspoken.

"Yes." Kurt says.

"Well, it's- certainly a bold thing to ask which I guess is worth appreciating. Which of you has a phone I can put my number into?"

"Here." Logan hands you his phone and you quickly input your number and call yourself so you have his.

"Give us a couple of hours to plan something and we'll give you a call." Logan says.

"Well you'd better. Or I'll be pretty disappointed after all this." You wink at them and leave the studio.

"What are we gonna do?" Kurt asks.

"Plan a date, and quickly." Logan says.

The two boys call you in under an hour.

"Hello?" You say when you pick up the phone.

"Hey it's Logan." Logan says.

"And Kurt!" Kurt says.

"Hi boys." You chuckle. "Have you planned something already?" You ask.

"Yes. When are you free?" Logan asks.

"I teach dance classes Monday through Wednesday for most of the day and Saturdays too but only til 4."

"We'll pick you up on Friday 6 o'clock. If you're not comfortable with us coming to your place, we can meet you in front of the studio instead." Logan says.

"My place is fine. I'll text you my address. Where are we going?"

"You'll find out when we get there. Attire is casual."

"Very well. See you Friday." You say and hang up the phone.

Friday comes along and at 6 on the dot, you receive a text that Logan and Kurt are downstairs. You take a moment to double check your makeup and gather your belongings before leisurely making your way out of your apartment building. Outside, Kurt is standing by a car and he opens the door upon your arrival.

"Hello Kurt. You look nice this evening." You say, winking at him as you slide into the car. You're sure if his skin wasn't a deep shade of blue, he'd be blushing bright pink. You wonder if he can blush.

As you get into the car you realize it's vintage, it's got those old school bench seats from the 60s that fits 3 people in the front.

"Hi y/n." Logan says.

"Hi Logan, you look nice too." You tell him. Kurt gets into the seat next to you.

"It's good to see you again liebling." Kurt says.

"Liebling?" You ask.

"It means darling, it's German." Logan says.

"You're German?" You turn to Kurt.

"I speak it." He nods.

"That answer feels evasive." You muse.

"My history is complicated." He shrugs.

"And what about you, Logan, is your history 'complicated' too."

"We're mutants, complicated comes with the territory." Logan says.

"Well- it'll certainly make getting to know you two something interesting at least." You shrug.

"That's a cute outlook." Logan chuckles.

"I mean, when you get asked on a joint date by a pair of- friends? Boyfriends? What is your relationship to each other actually?" You ask.

"We have known each other a long time. I suppose friends is accurate." Kurt says.

"You suppose?" You probe.

"Logan likes to pretend he hates everybody so he never admits we are friends but he's a big softie in secret."

"Oh hush Wagner." Logan rolls his eyes.

"In secret? I'd say it's pretty obvious." You laugh.

"Alright that's enough you two. We're here." Logan rolls his eyes. You look out the window to see that you're at an arcade.

"An arcade?" You smirk.

"We thought it would be best to pick something generally enjoyable, since we don't know anything about you besides that you're a dancer." Kurt says as both he and Logan get out of the car.

"You made a good choice. I hope you're ready to get your asses kicked though." You say climbing out of the car after Kurt.

"Competitive are you?" Logan asks.

"You have no idea." You wink at him.

"You are so on pretty lady." Logan chuckles.

"Bring it big guy."

You spend a couple of hours at the arcade with them, every game you play with Logan is competitive and every game you play with Kurt is just for the fun of playing. Kurt's focus is mostly on getting to know you, and staring. All he wants to do is stare at you. It's a wonder he can manage to focus on anything else. 

If he were honest, he's not been able to shake those unholy thoughts he's been having since first seeing you. As you race Logan in some snowboarding simulator, he wonders what you would taste like. When you challenge Logan to skeeball, Kurt can't stop thinking about how you'd feel wrapped around him. When you and Logan play some zombie shooter game, he imagines your lips against his or teasing kisses down his neck. When you play one of those dancing games he can't keep his eyes from wandering over your curves in your lowcut crop top and your tennis skirt. His eyes catch the part of your tummy peaking between where your shirt ends and your skirt begins and all he wants to do is cover the area in kisses and love bites.

"Dude, what's up with you? You've been more quiet than usual." Logan asks Kurt quietly when you slip away to refill your drink.

"Hail Marys." Kurt says.

"You're doing hail marys?!"

"If only. I should be. How can you manage to hold a conversation with her when she looks so-" Kurt trails.

"Trust me man I am no saint but it's much easier to ignore that urge if you actually try to divert your attention. Play a few games that'll maybe help you dispel some of that pent up frustration you're feeling." Logan suggests.

"What are you two whispering about over here?" You ask.

"You know you've been kicking my ass all night, I think it's time for you to take down Kurt at a few of these." Logan shoves Kurt forward a little bit.

"Okay. Pick your poison Kurt." You say.

"Can I pick you?" He asks.

"Not in public." You wink. "I meant a game hon."

"That one." Kurt points to an air hockey table.

"Air hockey?" You quirk an eyebrow up.

"What? No good at that one?"

Oh no, I just thought you'd pick something else." You shrug walking over to the air hockey table. You wrap one hand around your paddle and Kurt can't help but wonder what it'd feel like for those same fingers to close around his dick the same way. You place your other hand on the edge of the table and lean forward with a smirk.

"Don't take this personally, but I'm gonna wipe the floor with you darling." You say.

"Can't wait to see this." Logan says placing the puck onto the table. It darts quickly back and forth as you both hit it across the table. The first point is yours and you clap your hands when it slides by Kurt's paddle. The next three points are also yours and Kurt hasn't scored once. The game only goes to 7 points so at this rate you'll completely sweep. Logan walks over to Kurt as he grabs the puck from under the table. You can't quite hear their hushed conversation but you watch them whisper for a few moments.

"Aren't you good at air hockey?" Logan asks Kurt.

"I made a mistake here I can't possibly focus with her bent forward like that I can practically see down her shirt." Kurt says.

"Yeah, my view isn't half bad either but I don't have to pay attention to the game here." Logan shrugs. "Focus man."

"Are you two done co-conspiring over there?" You ask.

"I'm giving a pep talk, you're crushing him." Logan defends.

"You asked me to." You say.

The final score ends up being 7 - 4 in your favor. You're surprised Kurt managed to score any considering how obviously distracted he's been.

"Not bad especially since you're barely here." You muse.

"What?"

"You're distracted. It's pretty obvious. Is something wrong?" You ask.

"Uh-" Kurt's eyes dart away from you.

"You're doing that again? I thought we were beyond looking at Logan for answers. Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is I'm sure I can handle it I'm a big girl I promise."

"It's nothing." Kurt shakes his head.

"Oh I find that hard to believe." You hum. "Logan, do you believe him?" You ask although your eyes stay on Kurt. He looks nervous enough when you ask Logan that you're sure Logan knows exactly what's going on with him.

"Well- if he says it's nothing." Logan trails.

"You're protecting him. Cute. But I expect the truth when I ask a question. So again, Kurt, what's on your mind?"

"I don't think I can say."

"Why not?"

"There aren't enough confessionals in the world to compensate for the thoughts occupying my mind at the moment and I- I would never want you to believe that's the only thing I want from you."

"A confessional?" You frown.

"No." Kurt says and you take a moment to dwell on his words before it clicks.

"Ooohh. Naughty boy, imagination running away with you is it now?" You ask.

"You could say that, yes."

"I appreciate the sentiment of being gentlemen but neither of you is particularly subtle enough with your staring for me not to notice. It's quite clear you're both... influenced by your third leg for lack of a better phrasing. Don't look at me like that I'm not a nun. Although if you're hell bent on the whole confessional thing I'm sure I can absolve you of your sins."

"W-what does that mean?"

"I think we've spent enough time at the arcade. Now the question is, how far do you two live from here?" You turn to Logan.

"About 15 minutes." Logan says.

"Perfect." You say grabbing Kurt by his collar and pulling him towards the exist. "Come along Logan." You throw over your shoulder and he does so with a chuckle.

The drive to Logan and/or Kurt's place is quick. 15 minutes isn't by any means long but you're almost certain Logan broke a couple traffic laws to get there in 10. He leads the way to the apartment and once inside the living room, you face the boys.

"Now, I've never gone to a confessional but tell me your sins so that the gods may forgive your transgressions." You say to Kurt.

"I don't speak because it's all I can do to control myself around you. I find myself consumed with thoughts of how you would taste, feel, sound, the faces you'd make in the heat of passion."

"We'll start with taste then." You tell him. With a hand on his shoulder you push Kurt to his knees in front of you. Kurt looks up at you in pure disbelief, hands on your thighs.

"You- want me to, you'll let me-" Kurt trails off as you caress his face.

"I've already asked you to. Isn't that what you want Kurt?"

"Yes please." He breathes out.

"Good, so go on, taste me." You say dropping your skirt and panties to the floor, exposing yourself to Kurt and Logan.

"Christ almighty." Kurt says before burying his face between your thighs. His tongue slides between your folds and you sigh at the pleasure it brings you.

"Don't worry Logan I haven't forgotten you, come kiss me." You say.

"Thought you'd never ask." He says placing a hand at the back of your throat as he kissing you fiercely. You slip one hand up his shirt dragging your fingers over his abdomen enjoying the way his muscles clench under your touch. Your other hand slides into Kurt's hair, holding him against you as he laps greedily at your cunt. Kurt wraps his lips around your cilt and sucks harshly at the bundle of nerves. The sharp waves of pleasure make your knees buckle slightly and Logan's arm winds around your waist holding you against him as he trails kisses to your throat.

"Oh fuck." You moan, tilting your head to give Logan more room to cover your neck in blooms of red. "Don't stop Kurt." You say, fingers tightening in his dark hair. You feel Kurt slip a finger into your entrance, sliding in and out so his tongue can focus on your clit. Logan's hands run under your shirt and when his fingers begin to tweak your nipples your orgasm hits you and your shaky legs are only supported by Logan and Kurt holding you.

"You two are a dangerous pair." You breathe out.

"You haven't seen danger yet gorgeous." Logan says nipping at your ear in a way that makes you shiver.

"Well, there's plenty of hours left in the evening. And Kurt's vices are not yet relieved."

"I hope you don't have much planned tomorrow liebling. We're rather- tenacious." Kurt says kissing along your abdomen as he rises to his feet.

"I can take it sweetheart. Don't you worry." You say. You feel pretty confident in your words, and Kurt and Logan are forever up for a challenge. If the walls could talk they'd have a novel of stories to tell.

***

[d0youc0py]

Hello! I was wondering if you could writing like a little one shot about this tiktok I saw it’s angsty and could be triggering so if you don’t feel comfortable with it it’s all good :) here is the link btw: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT88wN5Fa/

You had a hard time falling asleep that night.

Maybe instinctually you knew. Knew it would be your last night with him. Knew that it would be your last night curled up in the ‘safety’ of his arms.

Your heart burned at the thought.

Did you know you were going to almost die that night?

If your thrashing and nails digging into his forearms hadn’t woken him up. If he had stayed wherever he was in his slumber for thirty-forty seconds you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d rather be dead. It would be easier than hot iron going through your chest every time you breathed.

His face. It hurt worse than the forming bruises around your neck. You could feel the air filling your lungs- your vision coming back only to see his face, twisted in agony, watching the one person he allowed himself to love come back to life after he had nearly killed them. He had thrown himself off the bed, his shaky form standing at the foot of it.

You wished you comforted him. Told him it wasn’t his fault, that it was an accident. You were scared though. So scared. Both of you knew he could’ve done so much worse. That’s why he didn’t stop you when you got up and began packing a bag, mumbling something about staying at a friends house. Neither of you knew what to do- other than run away. He stumbled on weak knees into the dinning room, not saying a word as you left.

You ended up staying at a hotel. Your sobbing was so loud you would be embarrassed showing up at a friends house in such a state.

He hadn’t moved an inch. His body rigid against the wooden chair. He was in shock. He didn’t even know what had happened, but waking up to you screaming and trying to claw his eyes out told him enough. His eyes scanned over his forearms. Deep, angry scratches cursing his skin. He ran a hand over them, the dried blood crumbling under the harsh action. That’s when it happened. The shock wore off- the adrenaline. He picked up his phone, clicking on your face.

You were too busy crying to notice the ringing.

He apologized. Nothing fancy.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, a wave of pain washing over him. He hung up.

“You understand, don’t you?” Your tone was pleading. Like you wanted him to affirm you were making the right decision.

His throat burned. His jaw creaking as he continued to hold back a sob. He didn’t deserve to feel bad for himself. His red eyes trained on the wall behind you. He finally worked up the nerve to nod his head. He did agree with the decision. He obviously couldn’t control himself. You kept your arm hidden behind you. He could feel a request to see his damage about to pass from his lips. He bit it back.

“You aren’t going to say anything?” You croaked, tears continuously spilling from your eyes. His hand darted out without a second thought, the overwhelming desire to protect you wasn’t just something he could shut off. You flinched back, not expecting the sudden movement.

He stood up from his seat. He was going to break down and he couldn’t let you see it. It would change your mind. You would feel bad for him and compromise your own safety by staying with him.

“Sorry, Honey.” He managed to get out. He grabbed his bag by the door, locking it behind him.

He woke up with a gasp, his hands quickly fleeing to the damp sheets. He patted around his hand itching to grip onto some part of you. He felt nothing but icy sheets.

Suddenly he remembered.

His world collapsed for what seemed like the millionth time. Groaning to himself he sunk back down into the sheets, pulling the covers over his head. He buried his face in your scrunched up sweater.

He knew he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep, his thoughts and actions haunting him. He hand darted out from under the covers, grabbing his phone off of the nightstand. Even though the brightness was blinding, he had found your contact with ease, his heart flipping in his chest as it rang.

You didn’t answer.

Your inbox was full.

That provided him with a bit of comfort. It meant you hadn’t deleted all the voicemails he had left you. He prayed that you listened to them, even the disgustingly sloppy ones. He meant every word of them, every apology, every plea for forgiveness. He tossed his phone not caring where it landed.

There was a knock at his door.

“We have training!” It was Gaz.

“Comin.” He yelled back. His voice cracked. He pulled himself out of bed grabbing a wrinkled shirt off of the floor, tugging it over his head.

His team eyed him, worry evident on their features.

“You try callin’ again?” Price questioned. Johnny nodded his head, filling up a large thermos with coffee.

“Inbox full.” He answered curtly.

“You know if you need to take a few days off to go home and fix it, I’ll write you up a pass.” Price offered, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“S’alright. I think some space would do us some good.” He lied. He didn’t know what else to do. He needed time to think- come up with another course of action. He’s done everything he could think of. Call you repeatedly for forgiveness. He’s poured his heart out into letters and mailed them. He’s sent gifts to your home. He just can’t wrap his head around this being the end of you two. He was a man of action and none of his actions seemed to be fixing the problem.

He wouldn’t give up though.

“There you are. I was beginning to worry.” He gave you a nervous smile, leaning in to press a kiss against your temple.

“Sorry.” You breathed. You moved closer to him craving his warm skin against yours.

“How’s your side?” He asked softly, taking a step back.

“It’s fine Ky.” You murmured.

“I’m sorry, Baby.” He had been apologizing since that night. It actually would’ve been funny if he didn’t break one of your ribs. He had kicked you off the bed during a nightmare. He’d woken up to some terrible sights, but nothing would beat you crying on the cold, hard floor.

“I know, Ky.” You sighed. Your eyes glanced up at him and they instantly filled with tears. “I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t even your fault, Kyle. I just wish you wouldn’t treat me like I was made of glass.” Your tears boiled over and he quickly took your face in his hands shushing you. “You won’t even sleep in the same bed as me.” You whined, pawing at his shirt. His own eyes turned red, fighting against the wetness growing in them.

“I just can’t have that happen again, Lovie.” He stated firmly.

“Then why are we even together?” You growled. His face dropped, but it quickly curled again at the tightness in his chest. “If you are going to walk around like a sad puppy all day and never touch me then why are we together?” You emphasized. He took a deep breath, nodding his head in agreement. A sob left you, thinking he was about to put the last nail in your coffin. You just wanted to push him- give him a wake up call. Not actually break up.

“Fuck, Baby.” He cursed. He wrapped his arms around you careful to avoid the large bruise at your side. “You’re right I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like I’m the victim.” He peppered the top of your head in kisses- the little action making you melt against him.

“No one’s the victim, Ky. It was an accident.” You reminded. He hushed you with more kisses.

“There are spot for me in bed tonight?” He hummed and you quickly nodded your head against his chest.

I’m sorry but I can’t imagine a world where anyone would break up with freaking Kyle Garrick.

“Mein Herz, Please wait.” He pleaded, following you around your shared home. You were nearly hysterical- not that he was much better. His towering form shaking as he tripped over the tornado you were creating in the house as you grabbed your most precious belongings.

“Let me go, Konig.” You sputtered, wiping at your face.

“You need to think about this Schatz.” He warned from behind you. “It’s late, you shouldn’t be out roaming around right now. You can stay in the bedroom and I’ll stay in the guest room.” He was negotiating with you at this point.

“Why because it’s so much safer here?” You spat turning on your heels to face him. “I woke up to my husband choking me in his sleep. What if you didn’t wake up Konig?”

“I know, Mein Herz.” He choked. This was the most brutal experience of his life. He often wondered what he had done to deserve you. Now he’s beginning to realize he deserves to lose you. “We can talk about this in the morning. I know you’re scared, My Love, but you can’t just leave, especially at this time of night. Please.”

You stopped for a moment. Your heart pounding in your chest. You suddenly felt so weak. The adrenaline must be wearing off. Despite your words you knew you would be safer here than out at this ungodly hour. You kept your back to him, your words coming out harsh and cold.

“Fine. I’ll take the guest room. I want you to leave me alone though, understand?”

He swallowed hard, a few tears escaping the iron grip he had on them.

“Of course, Mein Herz.”

Thank you for reading! This probably isn’t the most accurate depiction of their personalities but I’m delusional🩷

[brownskinlemon]

Honey (D.F.): PT 1

pairing: dominic fike x fem reader

warnings: 18+, angst, consumption of liquor, pt.2 WILL contain smut and course language, jealousy

synopsis: you and Dominic reunite after your almost-relationship, over a tall, hot, and overflowing cup of jealousy

word count: 1.543

authors note: ahh I'm back with another one! I love a good jealousy piece and frankly we're in a drought. part 2 comes out tomorrow

Jealousy was a beast of a thing, one that gnawed and thrashed mercilessly under the surface. You became all too familiar with its wrath in the past few months every time you interacted with him.  What started as meeting over mutual friends turned into solo hangouts, knowing glances, and a tender spot in your heart with his name etched into it. That warm languid honey that coursed your veins began to burn into a searing lava, lit ablaze by the uncertainty that seemed to never end.

To say you liked Dominic would be an understatement. To say he liked you back would be an educated guess. Everything you felt, you couldn’t put a name to. You’d like to think you had given him ample opportunity to stake a claim if your hypothesis was right, and he almost, almost did. One particularly warm night left you both with your faces inches away, and right when you felt him about to close the gap, he ran, muttering cowardly out the door about ‘shit he had to handle’ without so much as sparing you a glance.

What angered you most was not some notion that you were entitled to him, but the whiplash of it all, and how he yanked you around emotionally at his pace. After that night, you decided to get out of the car that was you two entirely, dialing it back to the cordialness he so clearly needed from you.

So here you were, at a party of a mutual friend. You were clad in an all black mini dress that clung to you, paired with black knee high boots. Your eyes scanned from the front door, taking a deep sigh as you tried your best to keep it all very cordial. 

You made your way through the house and the blaring music, relaxing your tense shoulders when you finally found your friends. The buzz of conversation between them is enough to pass the time but not nearly enough to distract you from the thought of him. You were almost sure he wouldn’t come tonight, too many engagements to name, but there was some sick part of you that hoped he would come solely for you to prove a point.

The next half-hour droned by, music humming through you, keeping you satiated enough to push down that part of you that desperately wanted to leave and wallow in your own self pity in your bed.  A shuffle of people near the front door entrance caught your eye, and you felt your feet freeze to the floor at the sight of him. A white t-shirt clung to him, black cargo pants and his scuffed boots following suit. Two men you faintly remember meeting at some point were by his side, yelling something in his ear before going off on their own path.

He soon saw you too, eyes flashing over with something you couldn’t quite place. You panicked like a deer in headlights when he began to make his way towards you, standing up and rushing past him, bumping his shoulder in the process. You didn’t look back to see his frame freeze in belief, looking towards your friends for a hail Mary, to no avail.

In the desolate kitchen, you were met with the company of seemingly endless bottles of liquor . You grabbed the first bottle you found, pouring a shot and taking solace in the way your shoulders slightly relaxed under the warmth. Your arms leaned out on the counter, as you leaned over your feet to catch some remnants of a breath. You were jolted out of your temporary solace, when a warm hand tapped your shoulder.

“Dom- oh. Sorry.” You swallowed down your words as you realized it was in fact not Dominic standing in front of you. It was a man named Caleb, someone you had met while working in LA. Short, strawberry blonde curls draped his features, notably his green eyes. While he was certainly cute to some degree, he wasn’t who you wanted, not tonight, and certainly not for the past few months. 

“You good? You look a bit out of it.” He says, the sweet genuine saccharin of his voice doing nothing to drown out your thoughts. You briefly looked past  him, catching sight of the mop of brown curls you were oh so familiar with faced away from you on a couch. 

“Um yeah. I’m fine.” You cleared your throat, turning to make yourself a drink to keep yourself occupied. “Just easing into the whole party thing.”

“I get it. Wanna come meet some friends of mine, they’ll make sure you let loose tonight.” He smiled, all of his teeth showing.

“Sure.” You threw him a tight lipped smile and it quickly dropped as he turned his back to you. Your arm hung limply as he lightly pulled you through the crowd with him, finding yourself back in the living room. Dom had made a home for himself, perched on the arm of the couch, surrounded by a small group, notably some groupie who was touching him at any given opportunity. She didn’t know how much he wasn’t a fan of being touched, aside from you for the most part. You threw him a glance, looking away just as quick to spare yourself as the boiling lava began to flood your veins. Your foot tapped absentmindedly as Caleb and his friends buzzed on endlessly about something you couldn’t care to listen to. 

You felt Dominic’s gaze on you occasionally, burning into your already heated skin like brands. Unbeknownst to you, that same beast of jealousy was ravaging beneath the surface of his calm and collected exterior. He was a man of stoicism, but as the minutes drilled on he began to question the limits of his resolve.  The brainless woman in front of him wasn’t enough to occupy him from the sight in front of him, you staring off into space with a man in front of you who could not be more obvious with how bad he wanted you, or your body rather. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do, ripping you away from the man and taking you right there in the middle of the room, he did the sensible thing, and walked away. 

You watched as he stood up from his place on the couch, letting out a deep sigh and walking to the kitchen without sparing his glance anywhere but straight ahead. You didn’t realize you were staring long past his exit until two snaps in front of your face brought you back to where you really were.

“Helloooo Y/N. Are you good? Did you hear what I was saying?” Caleb smiled dumbly at you. Oh, right. 

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry. Do you mind, I need to use the bathroom.” You turned on your heels, immediately leaving the conversation without waiting for their response. You stopped in your tracks, finding him in the kitchen. You waited in the doorway for a moment, before clearing your throat. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest from how sudden he turned his head to meet yours. He stood to his full height from leaning on the counter, a calm exterior but the undercurrent of something far more tumultuous bubbling in his irises.

“What’s your problem?” You ask, words coming out colder than you meant them to.

“What's my problem?” He chuckled humorously, shaking his head in disbelief. “Who is that guy?” His face hardened.

“Who’s she?” You retort, crossing your arms, toying with whatever game he thought he was playing. 

“No one. Why does it matter?” He scoffs.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You throw. He narrows his eyes at you before beginning to pace slightly in the small space, bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to formulate something. 

“Y/N I...I know we left off in a weird place. But c'mon. That guy is not your type.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“You don’t get to tell me what my type is. I didn’t even say I was with him. “ Your voice goes an octave higher in your frustration. “And you’re the reason we ended off weird, you ran like a scared child the moment it got serious. So don’t treat me like I’m cheating on you or something.” 

“But you know how I feel about you.” He stops his pacing.

“No Dominic, I don’t know how you feel about me.” You step closer to him, bringing you a few inches away from him in the small kitchen.

He stands there in disbelief, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he realizes he’s cornered. You both stand there in a stalemate, and you silently beg him with your gaze to not run, to not give up. 

“Can we not do this here? Can I give you a ride home, and we can..talk. Seriously this time.” His raspy voice is only slightly above a whisper. 

Your eyes dance between his own doe eyes, trying to hide that all your resolve had dissipated, melted into honey and warmed your limbs from his voice.

“Okay.” You whisper, looking away from his burning gaze, stepping aside to let him lead the way. 

-

Part 2 is out tomorrow! Stay tuned:)

[kalembappe]

do with that what you will | j.b. 5 (feat. e.h. 9)

a/n: remember when I wrote? back in June? Time flies. Also hi anon who req'd this forever ago, title's yours. also proofread! but don't hold it against me, english is a hard language. wordcount: 4501 nsfw under cut! minors dni 18+...pwp(very little plot), choking, oral(m receiving), public(?), unprotected p in v sex, overusing of italics

You were moody today. He could tell by the way you avoided his eyes to how you’d only talk when acknowledged (by someone else) but not before plastering that scrunched smile that only he could tell was fake. It’s not like your reasons are invalid, if anything he was the one to blame for this but he doesn’t have time for your petty squabbling, you’re in public and you’re both adults. You know well enough that you should act like it.

At least that’s what he thought until he saw his old friend, the one that just completely bodied his team 14 hours prior to tonight is now standing next to his girlfriend, you’re talking with that pretty smile that was the death of him, easily would be the death of anyone else.

He looks like a lamppost, he observes the man dressed in all black; a complete contrast to his bright platinum hair slicked into its normal bun.

You looked more at ease now that you were talking to him, you both did. Compared to your stiffness to other people, you seem to warm up to him. You were so comfortable that you even let him stand by you with your arm pressed against his broader one.

Not as broad as mine, but you know I– Again, he catches himself. He should stop. That’s his friend too. The interaction unfolds, what should be friendly, is anything but to him. To him. He should look away, but he can’t.

This isn’t supposed to bother him. It wouldn’t bother him as much as it does if he didn’t know that Erling used to pine for you. Grovel at your feet even. He remembers that boyish grin he makes every time you would interview them post game or before. People would point it out online, saying things such as you favor the Dortmund players or that you’re so critical but praise Erling like he was god and even thought it was funny at first knowing he himself made you see god.

It’s unfair that he suddenly wanted to show Erling his place, he isn’t even sure if he knows that you and Jude were a thing at all and maybe only now had he suddenly found the confidence in himself to finally talk to you; but that was never a priority in his brain when he boils catching sight of a hand that isn’t his resting on your back.

Jude set the shot glass down a little louder than normally, clinking against the marble of the table. He picks up another one, it’s his third…or fourth. Actually, He isn’t sure, he lost count and he doesn’t leave his place. He doesn’t move when Erling’s pinky taps on your back, his patience runs thinner by every inch that finger dips lower than where it’s welcome.

The only thing that breaks Jude from his reverie is when he catches your eye as you turn back for the shortest moment, droopy and paired with a lazy smirk. He didn’t care much until he realized what it implied; you’re tipsy, not enough to be too vulnerable, but enough to let yourself be reckless to do something you shouldn’t. You wink, solidifying his conclusion–you know what you’re doing.

Before he knows it, you’re back to entertaining his “friend” only this time you’re a lot more confident, talking louder, smiling wider, even grabbing his bicep as you slightly tilt your head back from laughing. It irks him, but he’ll play your game. He wonders if Erling knows he’s playing too. *

You’ve been avoiding him all night. Even at home– his home you mean (where you luckily had some appropriate clothes), dodging kisses and pretending like you don’t feel his stare at the back of your head just like he was doing now; seconds before Erling asks you to go dancing. A bit of a surprise since you thought he only approached you to ask where the toilet was and now you’re dancing? He had to lean down to your height to be audible over the music. The question hangs in the air–Should you? Probably not.

“Sure.” It comes out before you realize, but the acknowledgement in his face tells you that you indeed said it out loud.

You have to stop yourself from turning back too fast when you feel Erling’s palm rest lowly on your back, he says something you don’t listen to– he’s getting himself another drink(looking back, his intentions were obvious if he started drinking right after he asked where the restroom was). His attention shifted long enough for you to finally steal a glance at Jude, who’s shot glass threatened to crack between his fingers. He liked to pretend it was Erling’s pinky, grip tightening as he watches it brushes on your back. His stare follows as you take the initiative of walking Erling to where the people are drunk and dancing.

From anyone’s point of view, it seems like the next story on Hello! Magazine, awaits Erling, but contrary to how it appears, your mind was occupied completely and utterly of Jude. How much you hated him, how he looks like sitting with his legs spread, wondering how far you could press till he cracks. It’s all fair play though, he out of anyone should know.

He promised himself that after the game, you would get to hangout. You were excited, you thought maybe you’d go out for dinner, do something intimate; just the two of you, but after a day’s rest (that you so generously granted him) he says he needs to attend a party, for old time’s sake.

You didn’t know how to react at first, should you be mad? You started to feel so, but thought to yourself; do you even have the right to? You shook that thought off your head. Of course you did! You let your insecurities go before settling on disappointment. Jude saw this, thought it’d be better if you spent what could’ve been your date together at the party. With his friends. Might as well bring his mum, she’s better company anyways.

Call it what you want, maybe It’s a bit childish how you hated the thought of sharing Jude to anyone, a bit possessive; but it’s hard having to arrive at a party together only to split up and socialize with other people so you can keep things hush, water down suspicion. You understand why he does it, you think it’s best too. But just for tonight, you hoped; you didn’t have to share him with the world. Alas, another day goes where you have to. Anyway, if he liked to do it so much then he shouldn’t mind if you share a little too.

The music changes once your heels click on the dance floor, the song’s slower. Erling’s stills, “I’m not good at this” Hands hover over your body, he didn’t know where to place them. He’s antsy, it’s cute–you won’t deny that; the drinks wear off when you’re nervous. Suddenly he’s aware that you’re dancing with him. You feel a little bad knowing you’re using him, regardless, he’s still a nice guy. Always thought he was a little sweet. Your eyes crinkle as you smile, watching him blush. Confidently, you push down the hands onto your hips before adding a firm pat to reassure him. “Keep it there.” You sound more serious then you’re supposed to, it makes Erling gulp. All his confidence may have just been the alcohol talking, and if he were being honest, he wished he drank a bit more.

Jude watched as you giggled–he scowled, you’ll have nothing to laugh about if you keep this up. If he was jealous when Erling put a hand on your back, he was livid when he watched you laugh with Erling, like you’re actually enjoying yourself. He’s not one to be insecure, he’d never even entertained the thought but that seemed to change when this jealousy turned into something worse. He couldn’t put it into words. It boils in him as your hips sway, you’re too close to each other, but he’s rooted where he stood. He’s mesmerized and enraged, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Minutes pass and Jude finds himself seated next to his friends, he figured he needed to let loose, maybe people were getting suspicious with how he’d only kept his attention to that girl dancing with Erling Haaland. Gio yells over the music, “did you order this?” his eyes shift to his friend, confusion replacing Jude’s then blank face. He almost said no before catching a group of girls giggling to themselves. Just as Gio was about to return them back, Jude tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be back.” He didn’t wait for a reply, already trekking his way to his next mission.

Erling’s let’s his limbs set loose, even if he’s just jumping to the music, you’re jumping with him. It’s dark, but it was lit enough that he could make out the shape of your jaw and the curves of your body, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed but it drew him in even more. He spins you, back resting on his front, hands are on your hips as you sway to the rhythm. For the first time tonight, Jude was the last thing on your mind.

But from where you stood, you felt eyes on you; consciously, you opened yours only to get a glimpse of something that made your blood cold. Hands were on him. Everywhere. He’s got his arms out with two girls wrapped on him like he was a tree. The music tunes out, the hands on your body disappear, and it’s red. You see red. It makes your fingers twitch. He catches your eye, how your movements slow until your whole body’s rigid, and thought to himself; I’ve won. He grins, satisfied with your reaction. But if anything, you’re the stubborn one in this relationship.

Erling’s voice is soft on your ear, polite as he is. “Are you okay?” You don’t look his way, you’re busy making sure Jude’s watching. You trail your eyes back to Erling with a smile that fooled anyone.

He’s upside down from your point of view, the outline of his jaw more prominent under the shadow. The stare you give makes his cheeks hot. He’s about to say something but the words get caught in his throat when the feeling of your hips grinding back at him registers in his brain. He short circuits, forgetting every word he’s known.

Jude’s smirk leaves as soon as it arrives, dropping and taken over by his wide eyes–ironically mirroring Erling’s expression who’s grip lands on your hips for leverage. Your eyes look blown under the light, big and innocent like you don’t know what you’re doing–but Erling knows, they both know you do. You’re close to his face, enough that he could see the remnants of gloss on your lips.

It happened quickly, someone spilled liquid on you, mostly your shoes but also a little on your dress. It’s beer. You look up, both of you pulled away. Maybe you should’ve cared that you ruined it, the shoes that Jude bought you. Jude. Fuck. You look up, he’s already leaving sans the two girls he had all over him. Maybe you overdid it this time. Taking a quick glance at Erling, he’s occupied with the person apologizing to him, reassuring the man. He’ll be fine on his own, you think to yourself. When Erling picks his head up, you’re already gone.

You follow him amidst the sea of sweaty drunk people, shoving, and pushing. You think of what you want to say, apologize? That’s completely unfair. It’s not like you were gonna actually lean in and he shouldn’t have ditched you in the first place or canceled last second– And where does he think he’s going?

You curse this world for giving him long legs, walking two steps at a time. Everything just decides to be an inconvenience to you today. Your voice is dry with alcohol and the lack of use, but still you yell over the unnecessarily loud club music.

“Jude! Can you please– slow down! Asshole...” You say the last part in a normal tone only to realize you’ve said it loud enough for him to hear. There’s a cold breeze on your shoulders that tells you you’re at the exit, the door’s open and it’s quiet. Jude turns slowly, a more than displeased expression on his face.

“Me? I’m the asshole?” He scoffed.

“Yes. You ditched me!”

“And you seemed to find great company.”

A scowl disturbs your features, “You were doing the same thing!”

Before he responds, he pauses, Jude does something you both have been avoiding all night. He takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. His voice is steady, “Look, I can tell you’re upset about tonight,”

“Wonder what gave that away–”

“Let me finish.” You cross your arms on your chest, mumbling to yourself. Jude takes a step in your direction, enclosing your figure on the wall but (as much as you’d hate to admit) it isn’t suffocating, he’s warm and the scent of his clothes are comforting. His fingers stroke your arm up and down till they reach the space between your neck and your shoulder. They linger for a moment before softly brushing the hair clinging to your skin.

“I know why you’re mad, okay? I get it baby.” You sigh when his head ducked to your height. His voice is so soft on your ear that you can’t help but sink into the wall, his body pressing flush on yours. Lips graze the shell of your ear, leaving a soft peck on the sensitive skin. Jude… dazed, you whine his name. “I know you can’t help it..” He continued, “I know you can’t because,” fingers stroke your throat. “Well ‘cause you’re a whore.”

As soon as your eyes open, there’s a grip that tightens at the sides of your throat, squeezing out a strangled noise from you. A whimper or a moan, You aren’t sure anymore. There’s a pause in the air, he waits for you to say something. You don’t–no, you can’t. The damp spot on your underwear strengthens his claim. Heat rushes to your cheeks, you want to tell him off at least, leave a snarky remark but embarrassment floods in your stomach and his hold on you is immovable. His eyes speak for himself, Look at me–it read, but you never had the strength to look away in the first place.

“You think I’m gonna let you off easy? You’re used to that aren’t you. ‘Cause I spoil you too much, isn’t that right?” His tone is sweet, his hand brushes your temple gently, but it isn’t real–the only thing you could register with a lack of air in your brain. Your body shudders when the stroke of his hand travels lower, the one on your neck slacking but he still keeps you between him and the wall. So close that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his knee taking place between your legs and pressing slowly, you gasp.

“Jude not– here.” You curse at yourself. It was supposed to come out firmly, a command, rather it sounded like a meek plea. Jude’s leg bumped against your clothed front like he was playing with you, your thighs tried to shut but it only made things worse. “Please we’re in public–” He paused his movement before scoffing at your words.

“Really? You didn’t seem to mind while you were fucking around with Erling. ‘In public’, for someone in the media, you could lie better than that.” You wince when you recall the events earlier tonight and how he spat your name out in disgust. “Maybe I should just keep you on a short leash so you don’t hump on people like a bitch.” The words are shameless, and the lack of a better term, fucking vile that it makes you squirm. You look down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Why are you so bothered? Thought you liked this...? So open for everyone to see…” His hands massage low on your back, reclaiming what’s his. Jude’s tone was frustratingly cocky that you almost rolled your eyes if his knee didn’t come up and down again to get your attention, a surprised whimper escaped from you. “Hey, Don’t cry for me yet, I’ve barely started.”

Your hands press flatly on his chest, “Jude, can we just– let’s do it somewhere more private.” You do your best to coax the man with eyes he normally can’t just say no to, thinking that seemed to soften him just a little.

He takes a step back, enough that you can breathe your own air, albeit keeping you from sinking to your knees with his hands on your waist. He sighed, “You’re right.” *

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the mascara that you meticulously applied earlier although waterproof is probably running down your cheeks. Drool gathers around your lips, he thumbs under your jaws; a reminder to keep it slack. Jude’s torturously slow with his movements, making sure that you take all of him. You do your best to do the complete opposite and take him in eagerly, the head of his cock reaching the back of your throat causing both of you to moan. Jude, having none of it, sinks deeper in response, causing you to flinch your head back in a fit of coughs. He wipes your swollen lips of the liquid that gathered with a dumb grin on his stupid face, enjoying the sight of you on your knees.

You swallow back spit to clear your throat, holding onto his thigh so the strain on your knees wouldn’t hurt as much. Catching your breath, you glare at him, “Dick.”

He flashes a smile, “Yes, what did you think it was?” He looked completely unserious, relaxed even, bringing down one of his hands to his side. He tucks your chin between his fingers, “Come on, angel. The faster you get me off, the faster it is for you to get up off your knees.” Lightly, he slaps the head of his cock on your cheek. The pout you make is endearing, a glimpse of your usual adorable self that he’d nearly ruined by slotting himself between your lips. “Unless…you want to keep at it till someone walks in and sees the Fox sports journalist giving head to a Dortmund player? I can already see the tabloids– fuck.”

The sound is enough encouragement, Jude’s cock twitches as he watches you (all he ever does) your pink tongue licks a stripe up his length before you suckle on the tip, cheeks hollowing, sealed tight, taking your time. Your answer is clear, Jude doesn’t know whether to celebrate or crumble. His grunts are short and restricted, yet they echo in the wide restroom that you were dragged to on a whim, how you got here happened in flashes of red lights that disappeared when you heard the door shut, unsure if he locked it–you know you didn’t but it adds to the thrill, the thought makes your stomach swirl and your knees shut.

You’re kind enough to sink your mouth deep till you're half way. Slowly, you pick up the pace. The rise and fall of his chest accelerate, gasps turn into moans. His hips meet yours, although his movements were careful, he was desperate. It didn’t help his resolve when your eyes fluttered at him, all pretty even with you gagging on his dick. His hands absentmindedly found their way to the back of your hair, finally letting himself yield and start fucking your throat. You try your best to catch up even if you’re no longer moving in your own accord and just making sure to breathe through your nose. Just as his moans turn ragged, he pulls you off, leaving you gasping for air. He lends you a minute, tilting your chin up at him to meet his eye.

“All good?” he waits for you to nod–you do, still trying to breathe. He strokes your lips with his thumb, wiping it dry. You look up at him, eyes hazy and blown. “Get up.” He commands, tone stripped of all its grit. You’re a beat too slow that Jude forces you up your shaky knees himself. You have to hold onto him and lean into his body. He’s just as wobbly but he tries his best to be steady for you both.

You’re close enough that he could steal a chaste kiss. What was an intimate exchange turned greedy. You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but you’re not close enough, urging him to lean to your height, his palm traveling from your spine to the back of your head. He needs to feel your body and engrain the scent of your perfume on his. He flips you over, back now on the wall, hands greedy on your skin like he doesn’t know where to with your body. You nibble on his bottom lip a tad too hard that it makes him hiss. You kiss it better, sweet for a moment before swiping your tongue across it. He takes the hint and deepens the kiss and slips his tongue in exchange. You part, he leaves a peck on your forehead, drawing his lips to your cheek then to your neck

You’re getting impatient. Your body’s a lot more fidgety, writhing with every press into you. “Jude can you- I want-”

“Be quiet.” His tone was cold, still he kisses you dumb, he has the lips for it. It’s physical and intangible. He draws you in and lures your soul out, it makes your knees weak and turns you breathless. Your arms settle on his shoulders–they’re taught and big, your clothed cunt brushes against his dick—it makes you dizzy, sinking further into the wall.

He shifts your leg up on his hip, the other following naturally. You breathe heavily, his hands are impetuous on your body while he hikes up your dress roughly, settling for the fabric to hug your ribs. He pushes the flimsy material of your knickers, groaning as he sees you clench on nothing when the cool air meets your throbbing cunt, shiny with arousal. Fuck, baby. He mutters, voice above a whisper, you can’t tell if he meant to say it out loud.

He strokes himself on your clit, rubbing with his cock, goading needy little moans out of you. You feel like crying when his tip finally stretches your hole. You’re loud enough that Jude has to silence you with his lips as he fully fits the head of his cock in. He catches your whimper in his open mouth, gasping together when he places you higher on the wall, pushing deeper. You’re tight with the lack of prepping, but you’re wet. So deliciously wet. Taking him in like butter on a hot knife. He presses his face against your neck, grunting and breathing heavily. You’re left in an even more muddled state, spilling incoherencies, trying and failing to hold in your noises. You’ve completely given up on the silence, fuck it.

A grip on your face stills you, it’s then when you recognize the familiar callous hand covering your mouth–your noises. You don’t have enough time to tell him off, you couldn’t if you tried. His eyes burn on your skin, the warmth in your neck gone, you feel the tightness of his muscles in every buck of his hips, slapping against your skin. His stare is heavy on you– that alone flushes your cheeks. You push his hand away, instead tucking your head in his neck to muffle yourself , holding on for dear life while he thrusts faster and faster still.

  Your alternative catches your noises, poorly at that. Your eyes are shut, meeting his movements as you focus on the heat building in your stomach. He’s driving into your pussy like he’s trying to fuck you into the wall. Each word that tries to escape is garbled in your pipes, strangled and aching for release.

“You gonna come? Already?” He mocks you. “Come on, let me see my dumb girl.” Your grip softens around him, Jude maneuvers your face with his hand before fixing his palm to rest on your throat like he does although now looser. “What a mess…” You’re close, he can tell. Your stomach tenses, clenching onto him as if you’re dreading the second that he’ll pull out. He laughs, unsure of why but he tightens his grip, one that’s become so familiar on your neck that it’s grounding. The lack of air and the heaping pleasure turns your brain into a puddle, everything around you clouds, your own voice and the muffled music louder than it was, bouncing off the walls.

It’s when you open your eyes that your stomach drops, it’s a second that slips as soon as it passes. Your legs shake, thighs tensing around Jude. The same eyes you spent looking at the entire night stares back at you, wide and struck. Erling stands there, tense in his spot, taller than the space between the open door, music leaks in, almost blending with your high moans but the sound bleeds into his brain. He can’t describe what he felt strongest; jealousy, shock, or the tightness in his slacks. For now he swallows his own spit, the picture of your writhing body ingraining itself in every memory he has of you. Ruined. You’re completely ruined.

“Oh my–Erling–”

Jude smirks, “No, It’s Jude.” He teased, loud enough that all three of you could hear.

“N–no, I mean– It’s– Fuck. Oh god!”

“Yeah, that one works too.” It’s embarrassing how slippery you are inside, Jude rocking in and out of you like a piston with the stamina of an athlete.

Erling’s planted on the floor, it feels like he’s holding in a breath that’s stuck in his lungs. He should look away, but he can’t.

“Go ahead,” He whispers between thrusts, holding you against the wall. This time his words are close, only for you to hear. You have no choice, unable to utter a word, gasping, forced to take it. “Come for me while you look at him.”

It’s pathetic how you follow, eyes fixed towards the door when your orgasm crests in an explosion that leaves you shaking and trembling, legs wrapping tighter around Jude’s waist. Ultimately, you fail the task at hand, eyes nearly rolling back when your mind goes blank, the sensation tingles all the way to your satin shoes, throbbing and pulsing. His grunts turn into gasps, nails digging into your thighs when he climbs his own high, finally spilling into you.

You recollect, breathing heavily against each other. The last thing you saw were a pair of icy blues. As soon as you pick your head up from Jude’s neck, they’re gone.

[writella]

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

[outro-jo]

i don’t have a title for this

pairing: bang chan (chris) x best friend!reader (gender neutral)

type: one shot

summary: some news about your best friend has you out all night but of course he’s the one that’s gonna come to your rescue

warnings: none tbh, not rly edited, mentions of drinking and nudity

a/n: please use my ask box to request anything else you’d want me to write!

masterlist | info

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you don’t quite know how you got here or where here is, exactly. it started with a couple of shots with some friends at a bar in gangnam. that bar became another bar, then another, and then a club until your feet were almost bloodied from the walking and dancing—thanks to all the alcohol, you couldn’t feel a thing. now you were stumbling through the streets, wandering aimlessly. your best friends who had drug you out tonight had each found someone else to go home with and you walked alone. not by choice, certainly. well, at least not your choice.

the reason you’d actually gone out was because your best friend started dating someone, or that’s what dispatch said. normally you don’t let things like silly gossip get to you but this wasn’t some idol you read about, it was your best friend.

your best friend who you used to bathe with as babies. the best friend who knows about the broken nose you got in grade 4 and why you got it. he knows about the mole in the weird place no one else has seen before. the best friend that begged you to move to Korea with him to go to uni. the best friend who knows ever dark secret you hide, has seen nearly every tear you shed… and the one who has your heart completely.

he has no idea.

your friends could see you immediately spiraling over the article and insisted you all go out tonight. after about the third drink you could start feeling your mind numb and you began to finally enjoy yourself. of course, you did lose count of drinks after about nine. so, here you are, stumbling through the streets.

your phone lit up: “best mate 💕”

“well, well, fancy meeting you here.” you slurred with a goofy grin plastered on your face.

“oh, naur, i’m too late.” Chris scolded himself. he had every intention of warning you about the article but it slipped his mind. “where are you?”

“umm.” you stopped and looked up at the street sign before reading it off. “next to that boba place we like.”

“ok, yeah, i know the one. stay right there! don’t move!” you could hear clattering in the background of him gathering his things.

“aye, aye, sailor!” you saluted the light post and sighed before taking a seat on the ground.

it was only a minute that you had closed your eyes before you felt a hand rest on your shoulder.

“Darling? Babe, c’mon. let’s go.” Chris’s soft voice awakened you only for a minute as he scooped you up and carried you to the car.

the street lights flashed above your head as chris made his way back to your apartment but all you saw was black with your eyes closed. white noise began fading in and you were pretty much out for the count with chris not only getting to your apartment but carrying you inside. it wasn’t until your back was rested on your mattress that you looked up and realized who was with you.

“Chris! you came!” you exclaimed softly.

he looked down at you adoringly, smoothing the hair back on your forehead, “you called.”

you laughed loudly. “I did not! you called me. loser!l

“yeah, yeah, i’m the loser.” he said to himself as he walked into the bathroom for a minute.

your eyes had closed again by the time he came back and you suddenly felt wet on your cheek as Chris took a make up wipe to your face. you felt him clean off your face before asking, “you alright if i change your clothes?”

“yes, mr. gentleman.” you sprawled your arms, “strip me!”

again Chris chuckled and removed your outfit. he tried extra hard not to stare at your mismatched lingerie for too long. a small smirk played at the corner of his lips remembering how you had told him once that if someone is matching lingerie/undergarments they’re planning on hooking up. he took comfort in knowing that your only intent of the evening was to blow off some steam.

he wished so badly that you were sober and could have an actual conversation of what’s happening. how it was all a lie spread by a sasaeng when they saw him and sana together.

that probably hurt you a lot too. seeing him with another long time friend he constantly told you he had no feelings for and it was everywhere that they were now together, but they weren’t.

instead of having that conversation, he pulled one of his old tour shirts out and carefully put it on you. he loved seeing you in his clothes, made him feel like you were his.

chris took a seat on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair off your face. he watched for a moment, the way your chest would rise and fall. you were so peaceful like this, so beautiful. his thumb rested on your cheek, rubbing it up and down. after a moment or two, chris went to stand up and leave but you caught his wrist.

“noooo,” you whined into your pillow. “please stay with me.” you raised your arm to welcome him in.

chris chuckled and relented. he clicked off the lamp and climbed in next to you. he assumed the position of the big spoon behind you, pulling you in close. this wasn’t unfamiliar to him. your body pressed against his, the smell of your shampoo and perfume lingering around you. it was so safe and comfortable.

he remembers the first time you saw him after he moved. it was after a particular conversation you had with him that involved him crying that he might not get to debut. at 13, you had convinced your elderly grandmother to use her credit card so you could fly (unaccompanied) from australia to south korea. thankfully chris’s parents were coming in a few days but the days you had with chris before they came were magical. he snuck you into the dorms and he held you like he is now.

“chris?” you voice broke the fading memory.

“yeah, love.”

even half asleep your heart cracked at the pet name. “why her? why didn’t you tell me?” you nearly cried. with your face still smushed against your pillow, Chris would have almost thought it was cute, if you weren’t so sad.

“baby, we’ll talk in the morning. I’m not dating her. please, just go to sleep.”

you turned to him, rubbing your face. “you’re not?”

he shook his head.

“well, now i can finally date you.” you didn’t even think. the words fell out of your mouth without a thought and disappeared. they didn’t faze you one bit as you rolled back over, snuggled into him and went back to sleep.

but Chris was as stiff as a board. he couldn’t move. he didn’t want to dare disrupt a universe in which you had just confessed your feelings to him. he was too scared the if he moved, he’d jinx it and go back to a world where you weren’t potentially his. you did say it though. the words echoed in his head and his heart raced.

finally he unfroze and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “yes, baby, you can finally date me.”

“oh, good!” you sighed. “i love you, Channie”

[its-vannah]

Vigilante Sh*t | Jacaerys x Reader

A/N: Y'all, this is a bad b*tch fic. Prepare yourselves.

Warnings: Death of a major character, attempted murder, divorce, arranged marriage, marriage, mentions of consummating a marriage, pregnancy

Midnights Masterlist

For as long as you can remember, Lucerys Velaryon had been one of your closest friends. As children, the two of you were much too timid to meddle with politics. You preferred to stay out of the limelight.

That was until you had recieved the news of his death. When a messenger had told you what had happened, you felt your knees give out beneath you.

Don't get sad, get even

Steadying yourself against a nearby wall, you tried to calm your nerves. He wasn't meant to die. Not now, not this young. And you were ready for revenge—even if it meant taking it out on your own husband.

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

When it has been announced that you were betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, your family had been thrilled. Finally, one of their children would marry into nobility.

But you were severely disappointed.

From what you had seen, Aemond was a menacing, cruel man who did anything he could to elevate his status. You had heard rumors that, if he could, he'd kill his own brother to become King.

Even Lucerys feared for your safety entering a marriage with him, reminding you that your friendship would be put on hold. But trying to convince your parents to end the betrothal was impossible. It was too late.

Still, Lucerys had persisted.

"Couldn't you be wed to Jace?" He suggested, "He's still nobility. Your parents would be happy, woukdnt they? Please, Y/N, just try."

You raised a brow, "You want me to marry your brother?"

Someone sweet and kind and fun

He shrugged, "I think it'd be quite a nice match, actually."

"It's too late, Luc, I already tried. They'll have my head if I go against their wishes."

With a frown, he admitted defeat, "I just don't want to lose you. You're the closest friend I have. You're like a sister, really."

Pulling him into a hug, you pressed a kiss to his temple, "That will never change, Luc. I promise."

Until you found out that he had died, and your husband had been the one who killed him.

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Nothing made your blood boil more. He would regret his decision one way or another.

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

Your handmaiden pulled a velvet black dress over your head, lacing it in the back until it was perfectly draped over your body.

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

It was a bold move, on your part. To wear Targaryen black in a sea of Hightower green. But it was a move you were willing to take.

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

Tucking a dagger in your bodice, you were ready for revenge.

They say looks can kill and I might try

Making your way to the dining hall, you remained stoic even in your grief. You were going to get your way.

Entering the hall, you moved to sit beside Aemond. Normally, he didn't even bat an eye your way. But when he saw his mother's cold hard stare your direction, his shot you a warning glance.

Taking a seat, he grabbed you by the wrist, practically hissing at you.

"You're upsetting the Queen," He said in a low whisper, "Out of all the gowns you have, you chose one so bold?"

I don't dress for women

You played dumb, "Bold? This is one of my favorites. Didn't you know?"

"Remove it."

I don't dress for men

"Right here? I hardly think its appropriate," You replied, the corners of your mouth going up, "No, I think I'll leave it on."

Tightening his grip on your wrist, he grit his teeth, "Now."

And I don't dress for villains

"My life doesn't revolve around you, Aemond," You hissed, "I'll wear what I wish."

"Don't make me ask you again."

The lady simply had enough

"Don't make me say no, then." You said, eyes narrowing.

And crossing all of mine

Pulling you up from your chair by the wrist, the whole table turned to look at the two of you.

While he was doing lines

Aemond forced a smile on his face, "Excuse us, Lady Y/N has some matters she'd like to discuss."

It was so silent that you could only hear the clicking of Aemond's boots against the stone floor.

I'm on my vigilante shh again

Shoving you into your chambers, you fell back onto the floor, catching yourself with your hands. Reaching into your bodice, you pulled out your dagger, lunging towards him with the weapon held high.

He spun you back, kicking your ankle out, and pinned half of your body to the bed, the dagger now held firmly to your throat.

Through bated breaths, tears pricked your eyes, "You took the life of the one person who meant the world to me."

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

"It was an accident."

Grunting, you shook your head, careful to avoid the edge of the knife, "Doesn't change the fact that you didn't, and that he's dead."

He was silent, so you continued, "Let me free. Annul our marriage and I will go without a word."

"A word of what?"

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

You inhaled, "The bastard you fathered with my handmaiden. I'm sure your mother would be delighted to hear of it."

"How did you figure it out?"

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

"It wasn't that hard," You said, "Isn't she pregnant again?"

He loosened his grip, "I let you go, and you go without a word?"

"Not a sound," You promised, "And you're secret—and image—will remain intact."

He groaned, pushing himself off of you, "You're a vile woman, you know that?"

"And you're a sick, twisted man."

The marriage was annulled the next morning, and Aemond explained that your marriage had never been consummated. To tell the truth, he had been too drunk to remember if that had been accurate.

Although he was initially denied the request by Allicent, he reminded his mother that, out of all the women in the seventh, he could find another with more power to her name to carry his children. He didn't want the Targaryen name to be soiled by his wife.

After his mother nodded to Aegon, it didn't take long for the marriage to be annulled. By that point, you were already on your way to Driftmark.

You had left with a small trunk of your belongings, opting to leave anything with a hint of your past life with Aemond behind. No green dresses or hair pins, no Hightower crests.

Knowing your family would refuse to allow you back into their home, you went to the only place that ever really felt like home.

Walking into the keep, you were suddenly overcome with grief. You were in the gardens, where you snd Lucerys had chased each other as children.

The memories, however sweet they once were, now felt painful. You tried to push them away, unable to come to terms with your grief.

Kneeling in front of a stone bench, you traced the spot where your initials had been engraved. He had always felt like a brother to you, and now he was gone.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you, and immediately jumped, the hood of your cloak slipping off your head and onto your shoulders.

Turning around, your eyes met Jace Velaryon's. Surprise settled into your body as he looked down on you.

And she looks so pretty

"Y/N?" He asked, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Jumping up from your spot beside the bench, you wrapped him in a tight embrace, arms thrown around his shoulders.

Your feet dangled off the ground as he returned the embrace, burying his head in your shoulder while supporting your weight.

"I'm sorry, Jace," Your voice was just above a whisper, "I know how much he meant to you."

He just held you tighter in response, setting you back down a moment later, filled with questions.

"How—Why—When—" Jace furrowed his brows, unsure of the reason of your arrival, "Is he here?"

You shook your head, "No, I traveled alone. It'll all make sense soon, I promise. But I need to speak with your mother."

He nodded, "I'll see if I can arrange something later in the day. She's busy at the moment. Please, come inside, it's far too cold to be out here."

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

That evening, you spoke with Rhanerya, explaining the events that had brought you to Driftmark. Touched by the love you had for her son, she pulled you into a hug, commending your bravery and sacrifice.

She welcomed you to stay with open arms, and instructed her eldest son to help you get settled.

That's when something in you switched. During the next few months at Driftmark, you and Jace became closer and closer, eventually sharing a kiss in the gardens on the very bench he had found you.

It wasn't even a month later that the two of you were wed in a large ceremony, with the people of Driftmark in attendance.

For the first time since you had been shipped off to marry Aemond, and since Luc had died, you were genuinely happy.

After the wedding, Jace took you back to your shared chambers, kissing you softly, "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I'll be waiting when you're ready."

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

But nothing could keep you away from your husband. Pulling him down on the bed, you consummated your marriage that night. On that same night, unbeknownst to you, you conceived your first child.

The next time you saw your ex-husband, he was in chains in the middle of Driftmark, at the mercy of Queen Rhaenyra. And you were standing beside Jace, his hand on your swollen stomach as she decided his face.

You couldn't help but smile. Luc may not have been with you, but you couldn't have been happier alongside your husband, as the new princess, waiting for the arrival of your first child.

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends

Gazing up at Jace, he caught your eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

[lizaluvsthis]

A Chamber of Burning Souls - Chapter 1

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

●■●

Summary: It's Prom and everyone is invited to celebrate at Square Plaza, having no partners left to find. SMG4 and SMG3 both paired together.

With Four having no experience of what Prom is at all, he happens to find himself binded with his ex rival filled with complicated thoughts.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Sun and Moon, fluff, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, angst, gay fruits are real, LOVE IS IN THE AIR YALL

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG4

Mario & SMG4

Mario & SMG3

Meggy/Tari

Luigi/Bowser

Mario/Spaghetti¿

Bob & Mario

Chapter: 1 - A Night Bring Out

thus the sun has continued to set from the horizon as four is calmly watching the view afar, the cold breeze blew through his hair sitting outside.

"SMG4?" Mario called his bestfriend, seeing him sitting on a chair admiring the view. Mario snuck behind him, distracted "still having those gay thoughts?" He chuckled, making four bounce from his chair with a light scare from the fat italian.

"N-No I'm not!" He brushed off the dirt from his blue colored suit. Man does he love how his formal attire looked, where he can move freely and relaxed.

"You sureee????" "Yes I am." He looked away from Mario with a light pink faded blush surrounding his face. "Have you uhh found a partner?" SMG4 looked at Mario.

"I'm with bob, he said his girlfriend can't attend" "what about the others?" "Hmmmmmm" Mario did his best to remember the pairings from his team.

"Meggy is in pairs with Tari, Saiko is with Kaizo since they're both hosting a side played oncore songs, Boopkins is- he's with his waifu bed, Chris with Swag, Melony is just- sleeping-" figures. Melony is always too tired whenever she's awake, but for some reason- it feels like he won't be getting in partners with anyone else...

"Andd uhhh for Luigi- luigi is-" SMG4 shot a glance of the familiar green colored signature and ran. "Hey! SMG4?" Mario saw Four rush out of there and got back from the room to talk to luigi.

"Hey! Luigi..." "wah? SMG4? What is it?" "Do you want to be partners with me for prom?" Luigi eye-d to another side and furrowed his eyes giving him a smile. "Oh- uh- sorry SMG4 I'm already left partners with someone..."

"Oh come on! I bet I can still be as good as that partner this is bullsh-t!" SMG4 cursed out loud, hearing something approach to him was a giant... lizard-?

"Ahe- ahem!" SMG4 gulped looking upwards to reveal, it was bowser out of all people. He was tossed by a massive force by bowser across the room, with no one to notice.

"Ow..." his back couldn't move after cracking a wall. "SMG4! Are you okay?!" The voice sounded nothing like Mario, a man reached out a hand to help him get up.

"Yes I'm..." He paused, looking up to see the person. SMG3... his former ex rival... a 'friend'... is there to attend the prom as well.

He stared at his face for a moment, and boy how he felt something inside him flutter and beat. "I'm alright..." He finally gave him a reply, getting back up from the floor acting like nothing happened.

"You got yourself tossed in that room dude- you sure you're alright?" SMG4 felt distracted by looking at his 'friend' from top to bottom.

He had his hair up in a bun, (honestly- when did he missed out the part he had long hair?) His looks are still the same but it came out more handsome than the last time he saw him without a hat on, his dark purple silk suit that the light reflects on the shades, he was wearing a different gloves that has the usual roman numeral but with white color text with black gloves filled.

His magenta necktie, his long black pants, shining clean black shoes that exposed from his view. Since WHEN did SMG3 became this more of a neat character to get so- well dressed...?

Or its just four not knowing how fashion works-

"Yeah I'm hurt a little bit but I'll be fine-" he gave him a nervous chuckle, not wanting three to feel worried of him. SMG3 wanted to speak about this but he didn't find the urge to do so. Now that his soft spot might reveal a bit too much.

"You got invited too huh?" SMG3 nodded. "I uhh- couldn't find a decent partner to pair up with... not even when I enjoy less party talks yet I still come here..." He looked at the other of the members who are currently talking with the other people.

"You haven't- found a pair yet?" SMG4 asked again, he wondered why Three even came here despite knowing that he hates occassional events except for evil villain anniversaries or such as getting paid.

But for just this time, he attended anyway. "No I haven't... thats why I'm asking several of the people here- but they all already found one..." SMG3 hugged his stomach, the felt of discomfort attempting on asking for someone to be his partner and didn't work out too well when you're bad at talking in public.

More as of being socially awkward to people that gave out his anxiety... but to SMG4 however, he felt safe to be around with yet he wasnt even sure why.

His ex rival just felt too safe to be with, he didnt have complains for that. It felt nice...

Because he'd never felt needed by any other people from his life...

SMG4 is unsure at this state he's on with, he struggled and hesitated to put out the words of apologizing. He wasn't used to this type of sensitive talk.

"I also haven't found mine yet-" he started to stare at those red crimson eyes... "do you... want to be partners with me instead?" Out of the ordinary, SMG3's face lit up after hearing SMG4 say that.

Did he just hear this right. Is it actually true that Four is asking him out to be his... his... HIS... he turned red second by second.

"I-I uhh... Yeah sure whatever- just try not to mess things up- you baka..." the blue held out his hand for three to grab on, as four smiled still with three on being a tsundere. It never gets old.

Three accepted, embracing his left hand with four colliding in. With now both fingers interlocked, that was purposely done by SMG4.

"Dude- are you TRYING to make things look even more gayer?" SMG3 looked down at both of the hands then back to the man himself.

"Just- incase..." SMG4 pouted, he couldn't come up with a reason. He did this on purpose and he'd been making it a bit more awkward with this between just him and three.

The chattering went low as the host made his way out of the door and welcomed everyone.

"Welcome to the square plaza everyone! We are so excited to gather you all for our occasional prom! Now go out there and get yourself started!"

He offered to everyone by stepping aside from the open door, being a gentleman to let everyone inside.

"Well... here it goes..." SMG4 walked forward as Three followed a few steps near, little did four know is that Three kept glancing at their interlocked hands together thinking the forms of something special...

Something... something that also made SMG4 feel the same but more tensed...

SMG4 couldn't process much of the things that are currently happening to him right now. Why has this have to go very wrong yet right at the same time? Why did he have to come even tho he didn't want to?

He'd started to overthink with all of his actions that he had made. In regret...

(Why did I even came here... I should've stayed at the castle...) He clinched the hand even tighter, holding Three's.

But it had made him thought, for any other reasons it somehow made him feel glad that he was there.

"Good evening everyone! We are all gathered here for a special event- aka prom." The other host guestured their hand with the obvious sign.

"The dance will begin at 7pm, just to say you can go talk to any other people here or have some snacks while everyone enjoys their stay!" The microphone turns off, entering a soothing audio played in the background.

-A Night To Remember by beabadoobee & Laufey-

The man in purple looked at the sparkling chandelier placed right on top of the ceiling the lights that glimmered through the glass.

Swore I'd seen you before

Within the atmosphere flowing through the colors of pink, red, and purple. Mixtures of blue, the colors fading through the room.

Watched you walk through the door

The beam of light, shining across Four's face with an escape of the light. Reflecting through his blue colored eyes that took notice of the red ones.

Somethin' in your eye

Reminded me of somebody I used to know

Damn... SMG4 looked glorious... he hated that...

Three's eyes happen to gaze upon to Four's with the room surrounded by the soft sounds, they both met each others eyes.

You touched my back

I took your hand

Somethin' from your touch felt shockingly familiar

He didn't know what that feeling was, it just felt right for him to do. If this would only be only focused to him, where would his thoughts go?

And I swore I'd seen you before

Oh, I swore I'd seen you before...

They both felt so lost, but being there together with him?

Underneath the sheets

You enchanted me

And whispered sweet nothings in my ear

It felt romantic...

I shivered beneath you

All wrapped up in embers

It was a night... to remem-

"Is it just me or are you both staring goo goo eyes at each other thats super gay-" The fat italian called them both out ruinimg their silence.

"SHUT UP YOU ASS" SMG3 looked at Mario annoyed, he who had ruined their moment. "We're not gay!" SMG4 cried out loud, with the crowd bringing their attention from his scream. He smiled to fill out the apology trying his best not to disrupt them.

SMG4 turned his head back to Mario and eyed Three. "It seemed like it-" he shrugged his shoulder, drinking an orange juice from the cup.

"Look you idiot- I came here to get over with the party. I'm not saying I'm a party pooper in this, I was only trying to..." he gave a pregnant pause after realizing that he had almost revealed his words to him.

"To- uh- not miss out on the occassions and stuff..." his eyes darted towards Mario after he shot up his eyes with Four.

He checked the time...

6:55 pm

Almost seven o-clock before the dance begins, and just being in there with him... it felt like time passes by too quickly by seconds...

"Oh! I think I should go now- Mario wishes you two gay boys goodluck!" He puts a thumbs up to the both of them and headed to Bob's direction.

The two looked at each other in disbelief, had they both been staring too long? Did the song dragged them away into this...?

How can this be?

SMG4 is unsure, he was too scared about this feeling. Little does he know is that Three also scattered with the same thing as well...

End of Chapter 1...

--------

Previous Chapter - Prologue

Next Chapter - Sway me More [PENDING...]

[foxes-that-run]

Maroon

Maroon is looking back on her relationship with Harry in a linear way. It was the surprise song 26 May, 2023, the first show after 20 May.

'Red'...

Taylor wrote 10 of the final 30 Red TV tracks after Harry entered the chat in March. @taylor-on-your-dash has this Making of Red post which shows it was complete 4 months after they met, it's release was 7 months after 'The Very First Night'.

It is wild to me that people say Red can't be Haylor but 1989 was inspired by a '3 month relationship', yet Reputation is about Joe, who she started dating 5 months before it's release, Rep was mostly done by then. Rep's vault tracks will surprise some more than 1989's did!

All this is to say, we know Maroon is Haylor because it is not filled with All Too Well rage and the title references Red. The Lyric Video also includes a pink/maroon sunset, which similar to sunsets referenced in Cruel Summer, INTHAF and Slut!

Lyrics

When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf 'Cause we lost track of time again Laughing with my feet in your lap Like you were my closest friend "How'd we end up on the floor anyway?" You say "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how" I see you every day now

The first verse remembers the start

Harry's unreleased track, Hunger, is similar in meaning to Maroon. It opens with a similar line "Candles burned down to the floor." New Years Day also includes Candle wax on the hardwood floors.' Finally, Taylor included the incense in the lyric and music videos for Lavender Haze.

The first verse is very 1989 feeling, they sound young, hanging out and enjoying each others company. The room mate is most likely Ben Winston, he stayed with Ben while dating Taylor and renovating his current house. some of the This is Us Harry scenes were shot there.

And I chose you The one I was dancin' with In New York, no shoes Looked up at the sky and it was

Harry and Taylor danced with no shoes in New York after 1D's first Madison Square Garden performance 4 December 2012. Taylor is looking up to the sky in the photo of Harry lifting her.

Harry also mentioned barefeet in the leaked Trouble "And we could take this anywhere / Cause were we’re going / We don’t need no shoes" Trouble was leaked 20 April 22, 6 months before Midnights.

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon

This verse remembers a passionate fight, like the album Red Taylor described the emotions from that period as red, and later on Lover as Golden. The wine stained dress or shirt here is also in:

Olivia “This isn't the stain of a red wine, I'm bleeding love”

Clean “you're still all over me like a wine stained dress i can't wear anymore"

Blood rushing to cheeks is blushing, in Gold Rush Taylor also referenced this "I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush"

The mark on Taylors collarbone may be the possible hickey here, from the night before she left the Virgin isles.

Rust growing between telephones indicates they stopped calling, Harry also references this in From the Dining Table “Even my phone misses your call, by the way”

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbin' with your head in your hands Ain't that the way shit always ends? You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us I feel you no matter what The rubies that I gave up

This verse is the aftermath of the fight in the one before, with apology flowers, not talking and paying for it.

Harry cries with his head in his hands

Now that we don't talk and Afterglow "I lived like an island, punished you in silence" also refer to silence/not speaking

'The rubies I gave up' to me is treasure, rubies being the red theme. To me this is in the Pay for it' Haylor theme, however Taylor has referred to her friends as Junior Jewels in YBTM, she may have she lost friends in the break up.

Standin Hollow-eyed in the Hallway refers to the Hallway theme

The carnations not roses means they were plagued by things going wrong. Harry referenced the Carnations in the Satellite MV:

And I wake with your memory over me That's a real fucking legacy, legacy (it was maroon)x2

The outtro is after some time has passed, she wakes from an adult dream remembering her lost muse. Taylor and Harry have a surprising number of songs about this:

Wildest Dreams (Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha (ha-ah, ha) / Wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha / You'll see me in hindsight / Tangled up with you all night

Ready for it...? In the middle of the night, in my dreams (my dreams) You should see the things we do (we do), baby (baby, mmm, eh)

Little Freak - "You bring blue lights to dreams" and "A wet dream just dangling"

Cruel Summer "Fever dream high in the quiet of the night / You know that I caught it"

[likeadeuce]

Challengers Fic, WIP Wednesday, Art and Tashi in their Friend Zone era

“I don’t want to get on a plane tomorrow and then never talk to you again,” Art said.

Tashi waited for the rest of it, the I know this is crazy and totally unexpected but if this is going to be our last night, what if we slept together, just for the beautiful memory.

She’d had the same conversation the night before she left high school for good, to play Juniors at the Aussie Open and train fulltime and home-school. With that guy, who didn’t matter, she’d barely had a hint he was interested that way before that night when he started kissing her -- and also she’d said yes because she was sixteen and a dumb virgin who was tired of being a dumb virgin. Compared to that guy Art might as well have had “stupid in love with Tashi Duncan” screenprinted on a T-shirt, and she’d indulged it and now she was going to have to say no and make both of them feel shitty.

“Come to Europe with me'" he said. Now that was crazy and totally unexpected. “After your exams. My folks rented a place in Mallorca for two weeks -- huge place, lots of room, and I’ll probably lose in the first round, and then Dad will want to take me deep sea fishing or something so we can be really masculine at each other and he can decide if he thinks I count as a person yet.”

“So I should ditch my plans and fly around the world to save you from the specter of male bonding. He shrugged, and she admitted, “Your mom already kind of invited me. When we were emailing about the photos for your slide show. Or, more like, she assumed I was coming, but possibly she thought I was your assistant.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said. “See? Save me from having to be alone with these people. I’ll still mostly be training, and we can hit together, whatever you feel up to. Play some golf, go to the beach and eat olives and chorizo and -- what do they have? Flan? I can watch enviously while you eat the flan. Then we’re doing a few days of Wimbledon, I won’t make qualifiers yet but my agent and my marketing rep are supposed to introduce me around to industry people and you’ve definitely got a better head for all that than I do.”

Art had picked his agent and his marketing rep after a two hour phone call with Tashi’s father, who had been researching the best people to guide his baby girl since she was nine years old. Tashi was supposed to be on the call, too, but five minutes in, she fake-remembered a study group she couldn’t miss and went back to her room to take a few tequila shots and cry.

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Art said.

Tashi considered it for a moment. She really did. Sunshine and good food and the game she still wanted to love, sitting in the player’s box for a good-looking boy with a sky’s the limit future, sharing little jokes and secret looks and eventually, finally, falling into his bed because, Jesus, if he kept looking at her like that, she would forget all the reasons she knew that bed was a bad idea. Especially when the main reason was, simply, that he liked her too much.

“I would not be doing you a favor,” she said. “Because you know damn well what you’re talking about is girlfriend shit, and I’m not your girlfriend.”

She was ready for him to say No No No, that wasn't what he meant, they were friends, European beaches and shacking up with his family were just normal things friends did.

Instead, Art answered fast, with a broad grin that would let it be a joke if it had to be a joke. “Fortunately, that’s a fixable problem. Be my girlfriend.” For the first time in a long time, she saw the brash kid who had tried to get her number that night at the party, to hell if someone else wanted it, he had just as good a claim as anyone, and tonight it was even true. National champion with a face TV cameras would love and a body to kill for, and world number one in Being There for Tashi Duncan and never complaining about the Friend Zone of it all.

Art couldn’t keep up the bravado long enough for her to say no. His grin froze, then crumbled and he looked at the ground. “You don’t have to say it, Tashi. But I figured I needed to try.”

“If it helps at all, even if it weren’t for everything else --” She swallowed. “I couldn’t take being around all that tennis right now.”

[laurelindebear]

Finally saw the Mummy 25th anniverary release in the cinema yesterday and AAAAAAAAHHHHH IT'S SO GOOD ON THE BIG SCREEN. I know it's not all accurate (either to the various parts of ancient Egypt or 1920s Egypt/North Africa) but it's just gorgeous, from the opening shot of 'Thebes' to the golden desert panoramas to giant 15-foot-tall Ardeth on a huge screen aaaaaaaaaaah I'm dead.

I had cuddly baby Horus and his handmade tagelmust with me the whole time, I wore my Key of Hamunaptra earrings, I wore my Medjai necklace, I wore my Ardeth t-shirt. I've never been to the movies alone but I loved every second.

I can't remember if I've even been to the cinema since Covid and I think I missed it more than I realised. I'm not a huge film buff, and we've got a big tv (my partner is an avid tv viewer). But when it comes to some shots, the panoramas, the detail in the close-ups, the shots that are there for unabashed visual aesthetic - like maybe my favorite shot of all time, Wall-E reaching out to touch the swirl of ice/rocks as he clings to the Axiom - the cinema screen gives an immersiveness the tv can't match.

I'd seen it last week again as well, with a friend who'd never seen it, and between the two I noticed some things I hadn't before, or had forgotten. So this is gonna be long and rambly and full of questions and observations.

The brownface and imperialism is bad. Some of it I guess is period-accurate, and partly to indicate that certain characters aren't great people/are earning their grisly deaths (Chamberlain and the Americans). But a lot of it is inexcusable. Omid Djalili's performance is pretty over-the-top (and he is afaik Iranian and not Arab), a lot of 'Egyptian' characters clearly aren't (even beyond the main cast, all of Imhotep's priests look like White guys in gold paint to me. Some of the Medjai eg the one with the hook are also in brownface.)

A lot of local diggers and Medjai are killed in the Medjai raids and the plagues and it's not really acknowledged much. You'd think Ardeth would still have some hard feelings about Rick/Evy/Jon having killed people he's known all his life but maybe you have to develop a different view of violence and death when your whole life is centred on stopping the end of the world.

When the heroes are fleeing from the museum, they crash the car and run a short distance away. Rick, Ardeth and Jonathan escape via a manhole to get to Winston at the airfield. When they arrive at the airfield, they seem to be in the same car. How?

Why does Evy seem to be waking up on the slab? When we last saw her she was wide awake and chastising Beni. Feels like something was cut here.

The Medjai with the hook also has the following tattoos on his cheek: Gardiner's sign U6 or U7 (mr) and 2x H6 or (I think) M17 (y or j). What is ymr or mry? 'Beloved'? Is Anck's name in there too? What do they all mean? I must know! Would it be weird if I tried to write to the designers and artists from the film about it?

Some of the Medjai (or other workers) performing the Hom Dai have no tattoos on their arms. Most of the Medjai have tattoos which include one of the eye symbols (Eye or Horus or Eye of Ra) on their shoulders. Sidenote, I think Ardeth should have worn the old-timey Medjai outfit just once, for science. (Good thing we have the amazing @minilev to imagine it for us.)

The Hamunaptra cat is really totally out of the bag by the end of it. Not only is there treasure and archaeological finds (sadly not the Book of Amun-Ra, dammit Jonathan 😜) but Cairo had about 5 simultaneous (super)natural disasters. Ain't no covering that up. They're gonna need to recruit a lot more Medjai. (I volunteer! It will not go well for me though. I would be the worst Medjai of all time.)

Did Patricia Velasquez play the mummified version of Anck as well?

Who was Imhotep going to sacrifice the first time? One of his priests?

Was already thinking about this before I rewatched it but...the law is distinctly that no other man may touch Anck-su-namun. Has anyone written an AU where Anck and Nefertiri fall in love and escape Seti together? 👀 (I know he treats Nefertiri ok but Anck is clearly not a happy and willing participant in their relationship.) I would read that. (No, me, you already have half a dozen stories you'll never finish. Don't even think about it.)

Where are the camels at the end from? Didn't they all get ridden back after the first time they left Hamunaptra? And I thought there were more horses than camels, anyway.

Ardeth really was supposed to die, it was so clear. He was fist-fighting mummies and then had dynamite thrown at him. I'm not even slightly sad he survived (it's my favorite plot hole of all time!) but...how. Thank you Stephen Sommers for your vision. 🙌

Jonathan's face-journey for his 'Iiiiimhooooteeeeep' line is even more amazing on the big screen. I remember why my sister and I loved it so much. John Hannah and Jonathan are very underrated IMO.

Kevin J O'Connor also underrated. Beni is a weasel through and through...but Kevin plays him so, so well.

What does Beni say in ?Hungarian when Rick confronts him in the egyptologist's office? And how does he understand Imhotep - magic? I can buy he'd learn protective prayers in 10 different languages, but translating Middle Egyptian is another thing entirely.

Evy and Rick doing the 'I love you' 'I know' thing with just their eyes when Evy goes with Imhotep to try to save them. SO GOOD.

Has Brendan Fraser ever been hotter than when Rick first catches sight of Evy after her Bedouin makeover? (Which, coincidentally, has been living rent-free in my head ever since...it's almost an anti-niqab since the sheerness and beading on the veil arguably draw more attention to her and her eyes but...damn girl. 😍

Evy's delight at getting to Hamunaptra on her camel and finally getting to do field work is delightful, it's infectious, it's a pure joy to watch. As a female lead who could so easily have been an ineffectual trophy, she holds her own and carries the film as an equal protagonist to Rick in her own right. And I love her for it.

Evy and Jon are one of the better portrayals of siblings I can think of offhand. They have just the right mix of ride-or-die familial bond and squabbling.

Ardeth Bay's cheekbones cut more deadly than his sword tbqfh. (oops. but it's true.)

I should stop talking because this is so long. But if anyone wants to talk about anything Mummy-related, my inbox is very open!

[not-5-rats]

There's been too much angst in the Bug Army recently!! (Saying this as though it wasn't partially my fault...and as if I don't currently have three angst projects on going) so I decided we deserve some fluff, here

So this is technically an alternative ending to my Marco angst post so if you want all the context you could go read it but dw it's not entierly necessary

☆×.------------------------.×☆

"*Bug*...*Bug*! Holy-! I thought...I love you I bloody love you"

☆---------------☆

Marco eventually came to, his knees hit the mushy, plant floor of the swamps, his arm stung, he glanced at it remembering the awful fight that ensued mere moments ago, everyone was so bloody...so scarred...so hurt...wait...

"*Bug*! Where's *Bug*!"

He scrambled off of his knees, wincing at the pain as he finally got onto his feet. His eyes hurriedly scanned the grassy terrain, searching for any sign of his injured friend...and for a while he saw nothing but finally his eyes landed on a motionless figure which lay on the floor, their skin and clothes were a bright red blood still pouring from the stump which used to attach to their leg

As soon as he spotted then Marco flung himself onto the ground beside them, his hands grabbed at their shoulders pulling them towards him, he held them tightly pressing their chest to his. Tears fell in streams from his eyes into their hair, he gently shook them against him, mumbling pleads for them to wake up, begging them not to go...not yet. The red stain passed onto his hands, their blood...was om his hands. His voice grew louder, desperation beaming through them...that's when he felt it, a soft touch, a hand gently grasping his arm

His gaze shot down to their face...they were looking up at him, their eyes were half closed and they were clearly in a state of shock but they were alive! Bug was alive!!

"*Bug*...*Bug*! Holy-! I thought...I love you I bloody love you"

He doesn't think, he's so fucking overjoyed, they're alive! He was so sure he had lost them, but it was all alright! They were here, they were alive, he couldn't think straight, he could barely see them through his teary eyes but he didn't need to see them properly...he was so fucking relived. He grabbed their face, his hands cupping just under their ears, and kissed them. He didn't know why, it was probably a stupid thing to do but he didn't care, they were alive...they were alive, that's all that mattered right now

As the two parted Marco didn't let them go, his arms remained glued to their face, he didn't want to let them go...what if this all ended, what if this was too good to be true, what if when he let go...they vanished..what if his worst fears were true. He stared into their eyes, those beautiful eyes, the way they glimmered...the seemed confused, but they weren't upset with him, just a bit shocked

"I'm sorry *Bug* I didn't mean to...y'know shock you like tha-"

He didn't get to finish that thought, as soon as they had parted they were once again pressed together. Bug being the one who initiated it this time, they lingered together a moment longer this time...but once again they did part. The two gazzing at each other, relief and hope shining like sunlight first thing in the morning

"Marco...I love you, so dearly...but my leg is missing...I think we need to focus on that right now"

He immediately stood up, Bug in his arms bridal style, though he made sure to support their stump. He planted a soft peck on their forehead as he asked Bodie to retrieve him a couple things that he left laying around during his last visit as he set of towards the house. He couldn't help but smile down at Bug, he knew everyone was a bit fucked up rn...but they were together...they were both alive...and they knew how he felt, fuck they felt the same!! Everything was okay...they were all okay. Despite their leg literally being gone when he smiled at them Bug felt a flutter in their heart...and they smiled back...this was nice...this was all they ever wanted...and it was all they could ever need

[averagecontentenjoyer121]

Probably gonna be the last chapter for a bit, maybe not. Got life stuff and it depends how long future chapters will be.

Anyways speaking length this one is a long one and Athena finally gets to see what good parenting is :D

Chapter 8: Wounds

Athena shot awake gasping for air believing she was still in the clouds, only to feel the softness of a bed underneath her weight. A horrific pain pushed her down as it crawled from her left leg to her same side eye, causing her to yell in agony. She fell out of the bed onto her back as her legs still lay on the bed.

“Arvo, sleepy ‘ead,” chuckled out the drowsy voice leaning above her, “Now that you’ve finally woken that galah ankle biter can now leave me be. Every hour in and out, ‘Is she awake yet. What about now, is she awake now,’ I get he’s concerned but the bloke didn’t have to be so earbashing.”

“Hypnos? Why are you he-,” she was cut off by the pain that once again radiated half her body as she tried to get up again, only to shout from the debilitating pain. “When ya gonna learn not to put pressure on the parts with scars.”

“You still haven’t answered why you’re here.”

“Ah right. So, my brother saw you get trampled by the thunder bloke, and pleaded that I come to help ya, as you’d probably be in a lot of pain and need the help of the god of sleep to obtain it.”

“How’d I get in here? The last thing I remember is pleading with my father.”

“Ya see, after your blackout your old man literally kicked you out of the clouds. Then you fell into the sea and washed ashore. Your ankle biter friend saw you on the beach and dragged you to their big smoke. There his ma readied a bed for ya and pulled you onto it. Then I came down to make sure the pain didn’t stir you. Oh and that larrikin postie came by as well, don't know why.”

Suddenly the door to the room swung open as Penelope rushed in, having been concerned by the screams. Seeing that Athena had fallen out of the bed, and was staring through Hypnos’ soul, upset he hadn’t tried to help her up. She rushed over and picked up Athena sitting her back up on the bed trying her best not to brush her scars. She then turned around and began scoulding Hypnos as if he were her child. “Why didn’t you help her up!”

“Calm down, she's strong, also it’s been awhile since I got to talk to her. In fact I don’t think I’ve gotten to speak to her before, cause ya know. Gods don’t need sleep, and even then when I visited her after her exile I never got to speak with her.”

“You could’ve helped her up then spoken with her, would’ve saved her more pain!”

“True, although no need to knock me like that. It’s easy to say that in hindsight”

“Yes, but you should think more like its brother.”

“Aight, well anyways guess I’d be off.”

“If you don’t intend to help our guest then I won’t stop you,” Penelope frowned as Hypnos jumped out the room’s window and flew away.

“Are you alright dear? I was going to get some bandages to wrap your scars, but heard you scream,” she said whilst holding the bandages she mentioned.

“Yes, I’m alright, however the scar does hurt greatly whenever I put pressure on it.”

“Can you see through your left eye, I can’t see your eye.”

“I think I can. Wait, what do you mean?”

“Where your left eye should be, it's just glowing. Like your scars.” Athena looked down at the portion of the scar she could see branching out from under her clothes now noticing its glow.

“My son dragged you to our gate and came to get me so I could help him. He called you his friend. How’d you meet?”

“I was passing by when I saw one of the men here pick a fight with him. I jumped in and protected him,” Athena said while Penelope began wrapping bandages around her visible scar branches.

“Which one of them was it,” Penelope said, shooting a deathly glare at Athena.

“It’s ok, I chased him out of town. He won’t come back again.”

“Was he the one that did this to you, if so I’ll hunt him down.”

“No, I ah. . . Got. . . Struck by lightning on the way back, and I guess that is why this is,” she says, stuttering, gesturing to her scar.

“Alright,” Penelope struggles to say. She then finishes the bandages.

Athena tries to stand up again struggling under the slightly lessened pain. “Are you sure you’re alright dear.”

“Yes, it still hurts, but now that the air isn’t constantly stabbing it, it’s better,” she says, trying to take her mind away from the pain. Penelope worryingly stares at her. “Athena!” Cheerfully shouts a prepubescent voice from a wide smile, “You're awake!”

“Quiet down a bit Telemachus, she still needs time to recover.” Telemachus stops right before reaching out for Athena’s hand. “It's quite alright, Penelope. Half of my body does hurt, but that doesn’t include my ears,”

“Yes, and don’t touch her bandages, it'll hurt her if you do,” Penelope says, staring at Telemachus. “Yes mom,” Telemachus says, sinking down disappointed in himself because he upset his mother.

“It’s alright, Hypnos told me that he’d been worrying about me the entire time since I’ve been here.”

“That’s right! Are you,” Telemachus quickly says, still worrying. “Yes, little man, I’m alright.”

“Yes!” Telemachus jumps up swinging his arms in triumph with stars in his eyes.

“Oh, what’s your name again dear?”

“Uh, it’s Pa-“

“Athena!” Cheers Telemachus with a cleaver sized grin on his face. “I’m sorry dear, clearly he thinks you're a god. Probably because you saved him.”

Athena sighs, “No, he’s right, I am. It’s a long story. Do you care to listen? I can tell you about what happened with Odysseus, I traveled with him.”

Penelope stares at Athena, baffled at what was said. “Oh and I guess I’ll have to actually explain how I got these scars,” Athena warmly smiles. “Uh. . . S- sure,” Penelope stutters out, stumbling on her words this time. Penelope sat on the bed beside Athena and Telemachus eagerly sat on the ground with a smile on his face, to hear her story.

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🌸 Short Fics

(Part One - Under 5k)

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

🌸 Stealing Flowers by @lululawrence {NR, 4k}

When Louis finally arrived, he walked in and grabbed an apron. Without even saying hello, he immediately approached Jesy and said, “Sexy Stranger steals flowers.”

She kept pouring the Tanqueray shots she had lined up in front of her, but her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m sorry, he what? Did you finally talk to him and that was what you learned?”

He nodded to another couple of tourists and welcomed them to the Way Station as they eagerly made their way to the Tardis restroom.

“No, I didn’t actually talk to him, but—”

“Then how do you know he steals flowers?”

She was wiping down the bar and stacking the empty glasses to take back to the dishwasher when Louis realized maybe he should help too. After all, he was there to work, not just talk to her about his maybe crush.

“I saw a poster.”

Or the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

🌸 More in these bones by SunTomato / @sun-tomato {NR, 4k}

"This isn't a social call, is it, Curly?" Harry's gaze drops to the floor. "No." Harry takes a deep breath, fists clenching at his side, before he looks up again. His eyes meet Louis’ with a mix of fear and determination. "I want to make a deal."

OR The one where demon Louis really doesn't want Harry to trade away his soul, even if he can't explain why.

🌸 Tech Support (series) by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {G, 4k}

Harry calls the HP customer service line very late at night expecting to get redirected to a call center far away. Instead, the person on the other end of the line is a little closer to home.

🌸 cursing the cosmos by @hogwartzlou {NR, 4k}

In a world where people have timers counting down to when they meet their soulmate, finding love is easy. Harry meets Louis in a coffee shop one day. They slowly fall in love, the only thing holding them back is that they aren't soulmates.

🌸 you and I love like it's a secret  by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed {T, 4k}

Louis swallows, looking at Harry, who grins at him as though nothing’s wrong. He’s leaning against the door of a wardrobe, his long hair having lost some of its curls due to the amount of times he’s run his fingers through it. Louis is still where he was the moment the door got closed behind them, all but pressed up against the wood, trying to keep as much distance between him and Harry as possible.

His heart stutters in his chest as he looks up at his best friend. He’s known Harry since he was barely out of diapers, and Harry gets him in a way that few people ever have – or have tried to. He knows him, to the point where sometimes Louis worries that he’s able to read his mind.

Or: It's Seven minutes in Heaven, but Louis sort of feels like he's ended up in Hell instead when he's forced into a small bedroom with his childhood best friend slash long time crush.

🌸 they’re laughin’ and drinkin’ and havin’ a party by  4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou {G, 4k}

When Louis decides he has to get away, he chooses the next best town in Texas, as far away from his ex as he can get. The real estate agent tells him it’s a quiet neighborhood, yet somehow the sound of a champagne bottle popping from two doors down followed by the roar of a party, sends him spiraling. That is, until a deep voice calls out a tentative “heey” from the darkness.

🌸 The Hidden Hills Restaurant  by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose {E, 4k}

“Are you sure you want to hear about this? Wouldn’t you rather hear about what I’ll do to you? How often? How long? How many fin—“

“I like to get to know my potential clients before agreeing to anything,” Louis says and lays down the menu. He’s thinking of steak. Something meaty, juicy, and hearty.

Harry’s arched eyebrow at the word ‘potential’ doesn’t escape Louis’ notice.

or the one where Louis is a personal feeder and Harry is the vampire to be his next client

🌸 Into Always by @jaerie {E, 4k}

Harry finds his ex's knotting dildo and gets a little curious. Louis is more than willing to help out.

🌸 Fakes (Streaming Live) by @allwaswell16 {E, 4k}

Alpha camboy Henry Steel has a rather unfortunate crush on omega camboy Luscious Lucas. He also has a rather unfortunate secret that's about to be revealed.

🌸 Heels Over Head by @kingsofeverything {E, 3k}

Louis Tomlinson returns from tour to find that his new next door neighbor doesn't realize his backyard is not completely private.

🌸 No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way by @runaway-train-works​ / runaway_train {E, 3k}

Harry is well aware he should be studying or watching T.V or cleaning the kitchen or doing literally anything from a list as long as his arm instead of this, but he is. The list of reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this is probably at least double that, but here he most definitely is. He’s sitting on his bed, legs straight out in front of him, back propped up against the headboard and some fluffed-up pillows and his MacBook is resting on his thighs. His jittery fingers drum lightly on the edge of the keyboard as he stares at the tiny digital clock in the top right-hand corner of the screen, willing the seconds to tick by faster. He wants to get into this and get it over with in equal measures.

Or The one where Harry has a particular desire that only Louis can fulfill.

🌸 nobody knows like me by enbyharry / @non-binharry {G, 3k}

Harry does his best to cope with a secret life in the summer of '74.

🌸 Gonna Dress You Up In My Love by @fallinglikethis {T, 3k}

Harry decides to take up knitting. He's horrible at it. Louis wears everything anyway.

🌸 the most fantastic things by bluegreenish / @greenblueish {G, 2k}

When he reads a fairy tale today, and it’s one about love, Harry will find himself in it. Because in all the fairy tales about love that exist in the world, he knows that a little part of Louis and him is written in between the letters, hidden between every page that curious fingers turn.

or, Harry's version of the fairy tale Thumbelina, minus marrying toads or moles, plus waxing poetic about Louis.

🌸 as we move slowly by snsk / @snsknene {G, 2k}

"You know what color your wings are?" Harry asked conversationally, on his stomach at the tattoo parlor, while Louis played absentmindedly with one dangling hand and flipped through some designs.

// Alternatively: Louis grows wings. Harry is the only one who can see them.

🌸 maybe by @gaycousinlarry / momentofclarity {G, 2k}

I cannot not see you again. I cannot.

🌸 On the Go by @phdmama {T, 2k}

louis owns a landscaping company called MANSCAPE and harry thinks it’s some sort of in-home pubic hair grooming company

🌸 Check, Check, Checkmate  by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 2k}

Harry and Louis play chess... until another game becomes more interesting.

🌸 Zoey by @wabadabadaba {G, 2k}

Harry knew his first name, but he liked the way Dr. Tomlinson sounded more. Harry watched as Louis unclasped her harness and set it aside and pet her back and under her chin. Louis kissed the top of her head and murmured sweet nothings to her- mostly about how pretty she is and how well behaved she is. Harry wished it was him.

or Harry has a huge crush on his cat's veterinarian and finally decides to do something about it.

🌸 What About Tonight by @taggiecb {G, 2k}

Louis loves his new career. It might just be killing him, but he loves it. What he doesn't love is how easily the boy he cares most about seems to move in and out of his life.

🌸 you don't have to wear (your best fake smile) by coffeelouis {T, 2k}

When Harry was 12, he moved to Holmes Chapel and broke up with his first boyfriend.

When Harry was 20, he sat next to said boyfriend in class, and although he continues to wear Harry's parting gift of his beloved Manchester United sweatshirt every goddamn day, does not seem to remember Harry at all.

🌸  Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry /  @londonfoginacup {G, 2k}

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

🌸 an honest mistake  by @disgruntledkittenface {NR, 2k}

“You look different when you’re not covered in come,” he blurts out, immediately regretting each and every life choice that has led to this exact moment. Elevator Guy is going to hate him.

Louis has ridden the elevator with his neighbor all week. The first time they speak, there’s a misunderstanding.

🌸 Stole My Heart by @haztobegood {NR, 2k}

“Oh my god, Niall.” The door slams shut as Harry rushes into the flat. He’s still panting from his rush to get away from the scene of his crime. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

Niall is sitting on the couch in their tiny living room. He looks up from his laptop. “What happened?”

“The worst thing. I’ll never recover. I just reached into a box of free samples outside that new chicken restaurant. Only it wasn’t free samples. It was a man. Holding a box of chicken nuggets. His chicken nuggets. I stole this man’s food, Niall!”

🌸 Simply the Nest (Better Than All the Rest) by @homosociallyyours {G, 2k}

It's been a few months since Louis moved to a new town, and he still hasn't managed to get his nest to feel as comforting as he'd like it to. When his therapist suggests he might need some new materials, he's willing to give it a shot. Wandering into Harry's nesting store turns out to be just what he needed.

🌸 the prettiest customer (and the cutest barista) by fearsparks / @onlythebravest {G, 1k}

“So there’s this guy,” Harry repeated. “And I really like him.”

“Is he cute?”

“The cutest,” Harry said with a bright smile, turning around to face Louis. His cheeks felt warm, but he ignored it, pushed past it. “Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“Ooh, tell me more.” Louis rested his head in his hand.

(Louis is the pretty customer that comes in and orders hot chocolate while Harry is the cute barista that takes his order.)

🌸 A+ Patient by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf {G, 1k}

Harry hated everything about the dentist—the antiseptic smell and the bright light in his face and the disappointment in himself and the suction thingy that kept his mouth too dry. But the thing he hated the most was how in love with his dentist he was.

🌸 Needle by @nouies {NR, 666 words}

“You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”

🌸 there’s a house in english bond (somebody planned to stay) by @muldxr {T, 666 words}

The Hotel dates back to the mid-17th century, and the owners have invested dearly to make it a home away from home. Please mind our building rules written below in order to have an exceptional stay.

🌸 Swings Said by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright {T, 500 words}

A love story told by five swings who each were there to see a piece of it unfold.

[visceravalentines]

Medium Distance

A Gentleman and a Scoundrel, Chapter 6

Dilf Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

6.4k. Smut & drama. Some angst (I know I know, you'll be okay, he just cares about you so much baby girl). Bo's shitty attitude makes an appearance and he snaps at Reader. Oral (Fem!receiving), PnV sex. So soft and tender near the end omg. Bittersweet ending (this is NOT the final update!).

The time has come for you to go back to college. Bo does his best to be supportive. Unfortunately, his best in this case is not very good.

For you, a return to campus for the start of a new semester was bittersweet.  It meant new classes, new routines, the combined relief and anxiety of a return to independence.  It would be exciting for a week if you were lucky, and then the mundanity of homework and midterms would set back in for another four months.

For your parents, it was merely the change of the seasons.  With you out of the nest, they had become snowbirds, spending most of the fall and winter months on a beach or a boat.  In fact, they had left for Cancun last week.  They no longer felt the need for tearful goodbyes, knew you were capable of packing yourself up, moving yourself in.  Adults all around.

As far as Bo was concerned, it may as well have been your last day on earth.  He was so anxious you would’ve thought he was the one moving 200 miles away.  For the last few days he had hardly let you out of his sight, staying over every night, sleeping pressed tightly against you in your childhood bed.  Truth be told, it melted your heart, the way he followed you around like a puppy as you packed up your things. 

“I think that’s everything,” you said as you locked the front door of your parents’ house.

“Y’didn’t forget anything at my place, did ya?”

“No, I’m leaving a bunch of stuff there, remember?”  He hmmed in response, hands on his hips.  “Even if I forget something, it’s okay.  I’ll be up here in two weeks and I can get it then.”

“Well what if you need it?”

You slipped your arms around his waist.  “Then I guess you’ll just have to bring it down to me right away.”

That almost got a smile out of him, but only almost.  He appraised the mountain of your belongings packed securely in the bed of his truck.  “Y’sure that’s everything?  Thought you had more shit.”

You smiled up at him.  “This is not my first rodeo.  It’s like, my seventh.  I promise, we’re good to go.”

He sighed.  “If you say so, darlin’.  Just lemme check the hitch real quick and then we can go.”

Rather than letting you drive your car down, he insisted on towing the damn thing behind his truck.  He had already checked the trailer hitch at least once if not twice.  If it gave him some sense of control over the situation, you supposed you could humor him.

You meandered over to the driver’s side and leaned against the door.  When he was absolutely sure the hitch was secure, he came around the side of the truck, frowned when he saw you.

“What d’you think you’re doin’, baby girl?”

“Figured I’d drive down since you’re going to have to drive back,” you said.

He snorted.  “Oh, y’got jokes now?”  You grinned and he swatted at you.  “Get your ass in the passenger’s seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bo shot you a glare and you scurried away around the front of the truck.

His hand was on your leg before you’d even left the driveway.  You put your hand on top of his, fingertips caressing the scars on his wrist.  He turned a faint smile in your direction; said nothing.  He’d been uncharacteristically quiet all morning.

For the last couple weeks, he had pestered you with questions, made you recount your weekly schedule to him five times, insisted you provide him with the names and numbers of your roommate and a few other friends.  You talked about visiting each other on the weekends, phone calls in the evenings, meeting somewhere in the middle.  To be sure, it would be an adjustment, but he seemed to be handling the transition as well as could be expected.

However, the silence in the truck this morning was stifling, taking up all the extra space in the cab.  You glanced at him a few times. He did not look back at you, eyes fixed firmly on the road.  Once he pulled onto the freeway, he turned on the radio at a volume that was not conducive to conversation.  You chewed your lip and decided let him be for a while.  It was a long drive; he couldn’t ice you out forever. 

“We could stop for lunch at that cute place by the river,” you said when you couldn’t bear the tension any longer.  “Maybe walk around a little bit?”

“Sounds good, baby girl."

You frowned. He sounded apathetic.  "I thought maybe I could take you around campus after we unload. Show you a couple of my favorite places," you tried.

"Whatever you want."

He seemed detached. “You okay?” you asked.

“’M just fine, darlin’.”  He squeezed your leg.

Evidently this was not the case.  “Do you…want to talk about it?”

“No I do not, thank you.”  The sharpness of his tone surprised you.  He was never short with you.  You watched as he took his hand off your leg to turn the radio up.

You frowned.  “Bo.”

He turned the radio up two more clicks.

You sat up straight, turned it off.  “Bo.”

“Don’t touch my radio while I’m drivin’, girl,” he snapped.  He turned it back on.

You stared at him, taken aback.  “Are you upset with me?” you asked loudly over the wail of Bon Jovi.  He hated Bon Jovi; he wasn’t even listening to the damn radio.

“’M not upset with you.”

“Well then will you please just talk to me?”

He didn’t respond.

You smashed the power button on the radio with more force than intended.  “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not fightin’.”

You weren’t sure how to respond.  It sure felt like you were fighting.  The two of you had never fought before.  He didn’t turn the radio back on, but he didn’t say anything either.  You folded your hands in your lap and looked out the window.

You knew today was going to be hard, but you’d expected a sort of mutual sadness, not this abrupt hostility.  You couldn’t fathom why he was lashing out at you; as far as you knew, he approved of you going back to school. 

A defensive sort of anger flared in your chest.  Whether he approved or not, it’s what you were doing.  You weren’t about to abandon three years’ worth of hard work just because he didn’t want to have to drive a few hours to see you.

If he wanted to pass the next ninety minutes in animosity, that was fine with you.  You reached over and turned the radio back on, scrolled the volume up even higher for emphasis, crossed your arms over your chest.  He shot you a glance; you ignored him.

Streetlights flew by.  Bo was taking his aggravation out on the gas pedal.  The damn radio was so loud your ears were ringing.  The fight went out of you fast. This was not how you wanted to spend this drive, this last day together for the next two weeks, this time with him that was now a precious commodity.

You looked over at him.  His expression was blank.  It hurt to know he was hurting.  There wasn’t much you could do to fix it, but you badly wanted to try.

“Hey,” you said too softly to be heard above the music.  Your fingers found the dial and turned the radio way down.  “Hey, Bo.”

“Yes, darlin’,” he said, eyes on the road.

“Would you look at me please?”

He obliged, and his mask of stoicism slipped into a guilty expression at the forlorn look on your face.

All the sudden your throat was thick, eyes stinging. “Can you pull over?”

He did, and you stared twin holes in the roof of the cab, refusing to cry.  You felt his gaze on you as you rubbed at your tear ducts, looked down, looked outside, anywhere but at him. He was patient, waiting for you to speak first; it was so unlike him it made you feel worse. 

You cleared your throat and when you spoke, your voice was almost steady.  “Look, I’m sorry that I have to go.”  Despite your best efforts, the tears welled up and you made a frustrated sound as the dashboard blurred.  “I-I’m sorry that—”

“No no no.”  You heard the sound of his seatbelt coming undone, his seat sliding backwards, and then he unfastened your seatbelt and took you by the arm and by the knee and pulled you toward him. “C’mere, baby girl, don’t cry.”

You offered no resistance, straddling his lap and burying your face in his chest.  He wrapped his arms around you, pressed kiss after kiss to your head.  “Y’got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetness, don’t do that.”

“But I am sorry, I—”

“Stop it, darlin’.  I’m the one should be apologizin’ for gettin’ snippy with you.”  His hold on you tightened.  “’M better than that.” 

You nestled into him, hands tucked beneath your chin. His heart pounded against your ear.  With every deep breath your nose filled with the smell of his aftershave, the indelible musk of cigarette smoke ingrained in the fabric of his clothes beneath the scent of laundry detergent.  You’d joked about bringing your laundry with you on the weekends so it would smell like his house.  At least, it had been a joke.  Now it seemed like a desperate and necessary way to keep him with you. 

“Hey.  Baby girl.”  Bo nudged you, curled his finger beneath your chin to direct your gaze to him.  “I’m sorry I took a tone with you.  If I do that again you flip me the bird and tell me I’m makin’ an ass of myself.” 

You almost smiled, sniffled instead.  “I just…I thought you were okay.” 

“I’m fine,” he said.  You furrowed your brow and he grimaced.  “Alright, I been better.” 

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”  You put your hand over his heart.  “We don’t have to talk about it, I just want to know.”  He started to shake his head and you stopped him with delicate fingertips on his jaw.  “Bo.  Please.  It matters to me.” 

He looked pained for a moment before he masked it with a smile not quite free of sadness.  His pretty eyes flitted over the features of your face one at a time and all at once.  “I want you to go.  I’m excited for you, I am.  ‘S just….”  He trailed off, shaking his head. 

“Just what?” you urged. 

Bo sighed, staring intently out the window.  “I feel like I’m losin’ you and I just don’t know how to be alright with that.”  He furrowed his brow, met your gaze with an expression bordering on desperation. “I’m tryin’, baby, I promise I am.  I’ve just never been good at lettin’ go of things.”

You frowned, took hold of his face.  “Bo, we talked about this.” 

“I know we did.” 

“You don’t have to let me go.  You’re not losing me.  You couldn’t.” 

There it was again, that careworn look in his eyes. The one that made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.  That heavy thing he held onto and wouldn’t let you see. 

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you prompted gently, uncertain, not wanting to push him too far. 

He said nothing, just looked at you for a long moment—too long.  You searched his face, trying to transmute a growing anxiety into patience. 

Finally he leaned in to kiss your forehead and said, “No, darlin’.  Just wonderin’ how a grumpy ol’ fuck like me ended up with this angel right here.” 

You offered a furtive smile.  “You give really good head,” you said. That caught him off guard and a laugh burst from his chest.  He had a smooth, booming genuine laugh and in spite of it all, it made you feel better. 

“It’s going to be fine, baby,” you said, fiddling with his shirt.  The fabric was soft in your fingers.  “It’s just medium-distance for just a few months.  We can do that.” 

“We can do that,” he repeated like he was trying to convince himself. 

“We’re gonna have an obscene amount of phone sex,” you reminded him.  “Just a gross amount.” 

“And you’re gonna show me how to use Snatchchat or whatever.” 

“Fuck you’re old.” 

Bo cracked a smile.  “Nah I’m just playin’, I know what it’s called.  C’mere.” 

He pulled you close and kissed you, achingly sweet and hungry, his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear to have you anywhere but pressed against him.  “If it was up to me I’d lock you up,” he murmured.  “Never let you go.” 

“I know you would.” 

“I mean it, baby.”  He slipped his tongue in your mouth, trying to memorize your taste, squeezing the air from your lungs.  “Alright, darlin',” he said breathlessly when he released your lips at last.  “I think I can drive like this but you gotta stay real still.” 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you said, grinding slowly against his fly.  He groaned and shut his eyes. “I really don’t think I can.” 

“I s’pose if we crash and die you ain’t leavin’ for college.”  He leaned his head back against the seat.  “Think your daddy will let ‘em bury me next to you?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Damn.  Ain’t worth it then.”  You felt his dick flex in his jeans and he smacked your ass.  “You best knock it off before I haul you outta here and bend you over the hood.” 

You scoffed.  “Is that supposed to be a threat?” 

He chuckled, something like wonder in the way he looked at you.  “Dammit, baby girl, I—”  The words seemed to crowd one another in his throat and he just shook his head.  “Get back in your seat, g'on.” 

You kissed him one more time before disentangling yourself and struggling back into your seat.  “You know, if you need me to, I could give you—”

He held up a hand to stop you.  “Do not make me an offer I can’t refuse.  I need you to sit there and look pretty, that’s all.  You’re doin’ a great job.” 

Beaming at him, you buckled up and switched the radio back on at a civil volume as he signaled back into traffic.  Bon Jovi was playing again.  Bo scowled. 

“Anythin’ else, please.” 

Hours later, after a stop for lunch and a walk by the river and kisses not stolen but eagerly shared on the bridge, you finally reached your destination. Bo pulled up to the row of brownstone buildings on the edge of campus where your apartment was tucked away.

"This it?" he said, scrutinizing the building with a critical eye.

"This is it. We should be fine to park here for a minute. I want you to come up and see the place first."

"'S this a sketchy neighborhood?" Bo asked apprehensively.

You rolled your eyes. "No, it's fine. Come on."

“Are you sure?  Looks sketchy,” he said, locking the truck. 

“I’ve lived here for two years, I promise it’s fine. The building’s just old.” 

He shook his head ruefully.  “We had all summer.  I shoulda given you a gun and taught you how to use it.” 

“Jesus, Bo, I don’t need a gun.” 

“Everyone needs a gun.” 

“Your redneck is showing.”  He swatted your ass and you squeaked.  “Do you have a gun?  Besides the one above the fireplace?” 

He smiled grimly.  “Never you mind.” 

You tugged on his hand.  “What kind of answer is that?” 

“The only one you’re gettin’, sweetness.  I don't want you comin' home late in the dark," he persisted as you led him up the steps.

"I am absolutely going to be coming home late in the dark sometimes."

"Darlin'," he said sharply.

"Bo, I can take care of myself, I promise. Look, the front door is always locked and we keep the apartment locked too." You flipped through your keyring for the right key.

Bo grabbed the handle and rattled the door. "I could break into this in thirty seconds."

"Well then it's a good thing you don't have to do that because I have a key, you animal."

You unlocked the door and flung it open. Bo caught and held it, gestured for you to go in first. You led him up one flight of stairs to your second-floor apartment halfway down the hall.

"Your roommate's name is Sammy?" Bo confirmed.

"Yeah."

"And we like her fine."

You giggled. "Yes, we like her. We've been roommates for a year. She's great."

He grunted in response. You unlocked the door but didn't open it, turned around to face him instead. "This guard dog thing you have going on is really sweet, okay? It's very sexy. But I need you to trust me a little bit. You don't have to interrogate Sammy or anyone else down here. I'm a pretty good judge of character."

Bo snorted and shook his head. "Sure, darlin'."

"Just please be nice? I know you can be nice."

“I don’t think you know shit.” 

You took half a step towards him, pressing your body against his front.  “Daddy,” you whined, and he snapped to attention.  “If you be nice right now, maybe I’ll be nice to you later,” you said softly. 

"I can be so nice," he said. He almost managed to suppress the patronizing tone. 

“Prove it.”  You turned away from him and opened the door.  “Hey Sammy!” you said brightly as you barged in with Bo on your heels.  “How was your summer?” 

Sammy, a dark-haired girl sprawled on the couch in a cloud of vape smoke that reeked of cannabis, swore and scrambled to sit up straight and shove the vape under a pillow.  “Dude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing your dad!” 

Bo rolled his eyes and scowled as you cackled.  “I didn’t, this is my boyfriend.  Bo, meet Sammy.” 

“Pleasure,” he said dryly. 

“Oo, a foreigner,” Sammy said. 

“He’s from Louisiana.” 

“Where’d you guys meet, Mardi Gras?” 

“We met back home over the summer.  He’s, uh…a friend of my dad’s,” you said at the same time Bo grumbled, “Mardi Gras is in February.” 

“That’s kinky as fuck,” Sammy said, digging the vape back out from under the pillow.  “Bet your mom is thrilled.” 

“My parents do not know and it’s going to stay that way so some discretion would be much appreciated,” you said. 

“Gotchu.”  The vape hissed.  “I’m all about discretion.” 

You grinned.  “I’m going to show him my room and then we’re going to bring my stuff up, so don’t mind us.” 

“I won’t.”  Sammy flopped back on the couch, flashed a peace sign.  “Nice to meet you, Mardi Gras.” 

“Charmed, Samantha,” he said as he followed you down the hall. "She seems fun,” Bo muttered.  “She always high off her ass?” 

“Since when do you have a problem with recreational drug use?" you shot back. 

"I don't, I just–"

"Maybe Sammy will give you a hit off her vape and that'll chill you out."  You pushed open the door to your bedroom.  “Here we are.” 

The air was stale from months of stagnation, but it was comforting to be back in your own space.  You watched Bo meander around the room, looking at the photos of you and your friends stuck on the wall, the knickknacks on your desk, your closet overstuffed with clothes despite the fact you had packed a full summer’s wardrobe back home with you. 

“’S cute,” he said.  “Nice and cozy. Feels like you.” 

You wrenched the ancient window open to air the space out.  “I really like it here.  It’s too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, but it’s cheap and has good parking.” 

Bo came over beside you.  “This window lock?” 

“Yes, it locks,” you sighed. 

He put his hand on the small of your back.  “Just makin’ sure my baby girl’s gonna be safe without me, that’s all.” 

You leaned against the windowsill and slid your arms around his waist.  His brow was lined with concern and you couldn’t help but be a little touched.  “That’s very sweet of you.” 

“Ain’t nothin’ sweet about it,” he said.  “I’d have to beat the shit outta anyone who laid a finger on you and I’m real attached to my clean criminal record.” 

“You're a selfish bastard.” 

“I know it, darlin’.”  He kissed your lips but didn’t linger, tilting your chin delicately to the side so he could work his way down your neck. 

“Once we bring some things in I can put clean sheets on the bed,” you said. 

“Don’t need sheets,” Bo murmured.  “Hell, don’t need a bed.” 

You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We do need to unload though so you can move the truck before it gets towed.” 

He froze.  “Before it what?” 

“It’s only thirty-minute parking out front.” 

“Well what the fuck are we waitin’ for?”  He was out of your room so fast he all but left a cloud of dust in his wake. 

The two of you made short work of carting your belongings inside and backing your car off the trailer. Unpacking could wait.  Instead, you took Bo around campus and the surrounding neighborhood, pointing out your classroom buildings, the library, the patch of trees on the hill.  If he couldn’t be there, if he couldn’t be a part of your everyday, you at least wanted to show him what it was like.  

The tour ended at your favorite dive restaurant for dinner. By the time you walked out, the sun had begun its descent behind the trees. 

Bo’s hand slipped out of yours and he paced a few steps away.  He gazed down the road at the streetlights as they lit up all at once.  “Well darlin’…think I better get goin’.” 

You frowned, slowed to a stop, confused and caught off guard.  “I thought you were staying over.” 

“Yeah…thinkin’ maybe I should get home though.”  He was not looking at you, looking instead at the part of your world unfamiliar to him, mouth set in a line, hands shoved in his pockets. 

I feel like I’m losin’ you and I just don’t know how to be alright with that.  Who was losing who? 

Your heart sank.  “You said you’d stay.” 

He turned to you, met your sad eyes, and the furrow of his brow cracked his aloof expression.  A quiet, resigned sigh slipped from his nose and he conjured up the ghost of a smile.  “Dunno, y’think that bed of yours is big enough for two?”  His hands found your hips and pulled you toward him.  “I could sleep on the couch I guess.” 

You shook your head.  “Don’t be an ass.  You’re staying the weekend.  You said you would.” 

“Did I?”  He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Yes!”  You thumped your hand on his chest. 

Bo chuckled, wrapped you in his arms.  “I know I did. Just wanted to be sure you ain’t changed your mind. I know you got a lot to get done before classes start.” 

“No.”  You squeezed him tightly.  “Stay with me.” 

“You sure?” 

“Bo!” 

“Alright, alright, y’got me.” 

Tucked under his arm, you wandered home, clinging to him for fear he might disappear into the twilight like cigarette smoke if given half the chance. 

Back at your apartment, he helped you make your bed and put away a few essentials and afterwards you curled up together in front of some early 2000s horror movie.  Bo changed into sweatpants; you also changed into a pair of Bo's sweatpants. He spooned you on the couch, your back flush to his chest and his fingers moving lightly down the skin of your arms, over the curve of your thighs. His lips found the nape of your neck again and again. 

"Can I help you?" you laughed as his teeth grazed your skin. 

"Mm-mm," he said. "You just keep watchin' the movie."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry 'bout me, I'm entertainin' myself." 

“We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to,” you said. 

“I’m perfectly happy, darlin’.”  His hand snuck beneath your shirt, cupped your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. 

You arched your back and pressed your ass against his groin. "You sure, Daddy? You don't wanna go fool around a little?" You craned your neck to steal a lopsided kiss.

"I just want you to relax, baby girl.  You been so busy." His fingers trailed back and forth over the exposed flesh of your stomach. After a minute, he shot you a sidelong glance. "Y'mind if I have a snack?"

"We just ate," you laughed as he sat up and scooted down the couch.

"I know, I just got a particular craving is all."

"Go for it, I don't know what we have in the pantry though."

"That's alright, me neither," Bo said as he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants and slid them and your panties all the way down your thighs in one fluid motion.

You jerked in surprise. "Baby!"

He shushed you, looping his arms under your legs and nestling in so close you felt the heat of his words on your skin. "Watch the movie, darlin'."

Grinning, you repositioned yourself against the pillow behind your head. "What if Sammy comes back?"

"Door's locked. I set the deadbolt."

You laughed. "You son of a bitch."

His eyes gleamed over the crest of your hips. "You know I get what I want, baby girl."

Biting your lip, you turned your attention back to the TV. A vocal sigh slipped from your throat at the first solicitous pass of his tongue. He lapped at your sex, teasing the breach of your slit.

You snuck a glance at him and smiled. His eyes were closed, his thumbs stroking your hips, his brow furrowed slightly as he devoured you with absolute devotion.  He looked up at you through his lashes and slowly raised one eyebrow. 

“You’re awfully distracting,” you said. 

“Speak for yourself,” he murmured.  He swirled his tongue around your clit and sucked pointedly and you threw your head back on the pillow with a groan. 

He was relentless.  You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, squeezed it in your fist.  Your hips lurched involuntarily against his face time and again and it only made him shift his weight to pin your legs down so he could redouble his efforts. 

“Please,” you gasped, legs trembling.  “It's so much…it’s too much.” 

Bo trailed kisses down the inside of your thigh, letting you catch your breath.  “C’mon, baby girl, Daddy ain’t done yet.”  He licked a matching path up your other thigh.  You whined and squirmed and he lifted his head, fixed his smoldering stare on you. "You want me to stop?"

"Uh-uh." You pulled his head back to you and he chuckled.

“You’re doin’ so well, sweetness.  Just a little more.” 

He caressed you with his tongue, slick and silky, slipped two fingers into you and adored you from the inside out. You were floating, bliss incarnate, twisting your hand in his hair and grinding on his tongue until at last something primal and powerful snapped deep in your core and you arched your back and melted on his lips, moaning, hot and sticky and sweet. 

"That's my girl." He nipped the flesh of your thigh, made you jerk and whimper. "Goddamn, I love makin' a mess of you."

"Come here," you sighed, reaching for him. He sat up and took your hand and kissed first your fingers, then your wrist, leaning in to let you hang your arms around his neck and meet his lips. The combined taste of his mouth and your lingering pleasure was delectable, smooth and sharp. 

You gazed up at him, the lines worn into his brow and the corners of his eyes, those lips, the scar on his chin. Something was tangled in your heartstrings, tugging at your diaphragm, words sitting precarious in your mouth. 

"Bo…."

The knob of the front door rattled furiously and someone pounded at the door only seconds later. "What the hell?" Sammy yelled, muffled. "Are you guys fucking or something?"

Bo was off you and out of the room in mere seconds. Hastily you hiked your pants back up and tripped over yourself on the way to the door. The deadbolt was crusted in fifty years' worth of paint and you had to really throw your weight behind it to get it open. 

"Hey Sammy, so sorry," you panted. "Bo's just, like…super paranoid."

"I would be too if I was whipping my dick out in the common living area," Sammy said without a hint of malice. 

You bit back a laugh and felt your face heat up. "That is…not what was happening."

"Get it girl, why do you think I walked to Taco Bell instead of DoorDashing like a sensible person? I figured you had designs on that old man. I'm glad you locked the door. I don't need to know you like that." She took a hit off her vape. "Good for you, babe. 'Bout time you found yourself a man worth a damn. Bradley sucked ass."

"Bradley did suck ass, you're right."

"Baby girl, you get abducted?" Bo called from your room. 

"No," you called back. 

Sammy winked at you. "You better get back to it, I bet he gets real bossy when he's horny."

"How'd you know?" You rolled your eyes and retreated down the hall. 

"I'll be out here minding my own business with headphones on," she grinned. 

You ducked into your room and shut the door behind you. The string of lights hanging around the perimeter of the ceiling shone gentle and golden and Bo was tucked in your bed, reclining bare chested on your pillows. Goddamn gorgeous. You wanted to wrap yourself around him, map every inch of him with your mouth and hands. 

"I missed you," he said with a crooked smile. He beckoned you with two fingers. “C'mere."

You shed your clothes as you crossed the room and crawled into bed. Straddling him, you nudged his half-hard cock with your pubic bone, pressing him between your skin and the palm of your hand. 

"Pretty thing," he said. "Wanna take a ride?"

"Yes sir." His shaft was velvety soft between your lips, slippery with a mixture of your arousal, the gentle friction against your clit verging on overstimulation. 

Bo made a contented sound. "Think I'd like to sit back and watch you fuck me, darlin', how d'you feel about that?"

With a hitch of your hips you took half his length, eliciting a startled, satisfied grunt from his pretty mouth. Another thrust and you groaned in tandem as he found his place inside you. 

"Feels good," you murmured. "I feel good about that."

Ecstasy rolled through you with every rock of your pelvis. Bo pinned his lip between his teeth, glazed-over gaze fixed on the joining of your bodies. You splayed your hands on his stomach and reveled in each clench of his abdomen as you worked him in and out. 

Arching your spine, flexing around him, you felt a flash of satisfaction when he threw his head back and inhaled sharply, face flushed. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs when you sighed his name. 

“Darlin’,” he mumbled, “angel, beautiful, fuck.”  With gentle hands on your waist he stabilized you so he could rut up into you, meeting each sway of your body with a rise of his own.  “I adore you, baby girl, you know that?” 

Your nails pressed into his skin.  You met his eyes, pupils blown and glassy.  “I know that.” 

“Nah, you got no idea,” he said breathlessly, with a small shake of his head.   

Your hands found his wrists, fingers wrapping loosely around them.  “Then tell me.” 

Bo licked his lips desperately.  “Best thing I ever had.  Y’hear me?  Best thing that—shit—that ever happened to me.”  The snap of his hips grew frenetic, his grip on you tightening.  “I’d do anything for you, anything you want.”

His scars were smooth and uneven under the delicate caress of your thumbs.  Your head lolled to the side and you graced him with a sultry smile.  “Come for me?” 

He moaned.  “Hell, baby girl—”  

You moved like the tide, steady, relentless.  “C’mon, Bo, come for me.” 

A grunt escaped his throat in pieces as he bucked beneath you, wringing your name out on his lips, clawing down your sides.  His climax resolved into a low whine and he stared up at you with that heartrending astonishment you always hoped for, like he couldn’t believe a sweet thing like you could make him feel like that. 

Goosebumps flared across his skin as you ran your hands up his arms to meet in the middle of his chest, bending over him to press a kiss between his eyes.  The words came quickly, unbidden, all your thinking over and done with.  “I love you, you know?” 

You felt the air catch in his lungs.  “I…I know.”  He was holding onto you like a lifeline, something bewildered and exultant blooming in his expression.  “…I love you too, darlin’.” 

You smiled.  The phrase was foreign to him; you could hear it in the way his tongue touched each syllable like he was afraid he might break it.  “Say it again,” you whispered. 

His hand came to your cheek and he grazed your lips.  “I love you,” he said carefully, like maybe you might tell him he was doing it wrong.   

You kissed the pad of his thumb.  “One more time?” 

Those blue eyes seized you, held you, intense and ardent, and quietly he said, “I’m in love with you, baby girl.  ‘Course I am.  You’re everything to me.” 

He pulled your mouth to his and kissed you with an unexpected tenderness.  It made you shake inside.  It wiped everything from your mind but thoughts of him, thoughts of his rare laughter and that damn smirk, the thought that you wanted to commit to memory the way he tasted so you could never, ever forget it. 

He rolled onto his side, taking you with him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you.  You could feel a peculiar tension in his body even in the wake of his orgasm and you tried to soothe him with caresses on his chest and collarbones.  He pressed his lips to your brow and held you to him for a long time, breathing slowly, like he thought maybe if he let you go you might slip away. 

You had to wonder, curled up with his heart pounding under your hands, if he had ever given it to anyone else.  You were almost certain the answer was no, and this gave you a secret sort of satisfaction.  You knew he had never been married, and he’d been a bachelor as long as he’d known your father. 

Now that you thought about it, was it odd that he’d never settled down?  That a charming, charismatic man with a James Dean jawline and a steady job hadn’t ever found himself a long-term partner? 

And were you certain that was even the case?  He didn’t talk about his past, about his younger years, about Louisiana.  There was trauma there, a time when the scars on his wrists were fresh, a time when his brothers had been his whole world.  Maybe there had been a time when he hadn’t been alone. 

It occurred to you suddenly that you knew almost nothing about his life before he moved to your town.  That was odd, wasn’t it?  Or was he just protecting himself, the part of himself that was painful and private?  And if so, did you have any right to go poking at it? 

Bo hmmed softly.  “Why so quiet, darlin’?  Thinkin’ some big thoughts?” 

You tilted your head back and met his gaze.  The way he looked at you—with hunger, with reverence—no one had ever looked at you the way he did.  Like he wanted to dismantle you piece by piece and then lovingly put you back together just so he could become intimately familiar with every last part of you.  Most people lived their whole lives without someone looking at them like that. 

What did it matter that he was a mystery?  He was yours, and you were his. 

You smiled and kissed his chin.  “Just thinking about you.” 

A faint smirk settled on his lips.  “Well now, ain’tcha always?” 

Your fingers wandered through his hair, brushing it back off his brow.  “Yes,” you answered truthfully. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled.  “Good.”

He left Sunday evening, hours after the sun had set and the roads were dark.

You knew he needed to get home, had a long drive ahead of him, but every attempt you made at a goodbye was casually but firmly shut down.  Bo would not be leaving until he decided to leave. 

You sensed he was struggling; you could see it in fits and starts of alternating detachment and clinginess.  But he shrugged you off if you tried to pursue it, and so you stopped pressing him.  Everything would be fine once he adjusted to the change, once he realized you weren’t going to forget about him just because you didn’t see him every day. 

Finally, he let you walk him down to his truck.  He took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, possessive, almost aggressive.  It left you flushed and gasping.  "I'll see you in a couple weeks, baby girl," he said, drawing his thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Just a couple weeks.  Text me when you get home?" you asked pleadingly. 

"Sure thing, but you best be sleepin'."

"I will."

"Good girl."

You embraced him tightly. "I'll miss you."

"I know,” he said.  “Miss you already."

You tugged him close for one last kiss. "I love you."

His eyes moved over your face like he was searching for something. You wished you knew what it was he was looking for.  You believed—you hoped—when he was ready, he would tell you. 

"Love you too."

With one final peck on your forehead, he pulled away and climbed into the truck, and then he was gone. 

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