#but then my neighbors got too noisy so i stopped that

[bunnihearted]

apparently im in my audiobook era now.... ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

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It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[ncroissant]

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

[narcissistshandler]

𝙄𝙉𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙄𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙉𝙊𝙄𝙎𝙔

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. m!reader x hobie brown

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. anal sex, bottom!hobie, top!amab!reader

✧ 𝖠/N. I know everyone is super obsessed with miguel (I know, me too), but my obsession with hobie is getting out of hand.

He was loud, in every possible way; the bed hitting the wall and the mattress creaking beneath you become an afterthought under his voice. Hobie liked to demonstrate how good you made him feel, the loud moans and desperate growls occasionally interrupted by stammering words that didn't always make sense in your pleasure-clouded mind, yet you wanted him to get even louder, enough to the neighbors come to complain the next day. You wanted to see the face Hobie would put on when the person commented on how loudly he screamed your name and how he begged for 'more' and 'harder', even if you only got a wide smile and a raise of eyebrows from him in return, you wanted Hobie to be aware of what a needy whore he was in bed.

Legs wrapped around your waist so tightly it had become painful, heels digging into your back making it difficult to move, he couldn't seem to get enough. And even though the sweat prickled your skin and the heat became uncomfortable under your rapid breathing, you didn't dare stop, grinding your hips together as a mess of semen poured from his hole. He pulled your hair, hard, screaming what should have been your name as he came around you, again. Insatiable and noisy.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hi there ! Can I request Natasha Romanoff x reader smut? I thought maybe Natasha x virgin!reader first time OR it can just be Nat’s and reader’s first time. (Please make it super soft🥺🥺)

Okay but anon that idea is literally so cute wtf 😖💗 this is shorter than I intended it to be but I hope you enjoy it regardless 

Sidenote: mалыш means baby in Russian (to the best of my knowledge) 

Taking It Slow (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, reader is a virgin, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of a safeword (although it's never used), soft top Natasha, bottom reader 

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" 

Natasha's brow was furrowed with concern as she leaned over you on the bed, gently brushing your hair from your face. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." You looked up into her loving eyes, knowing she would take care of you. "Just...take it slow, okay?" 

"Of course, mалыш." She pressed a soft and loving kiss to your lips before working her way down the rest of your body. Your jawline, neck, collarbone, none of it went untouched. She kept going until she got down to your thighs, where she settled herself between them. 

"If at anytime you want me to stop, just let me know, okay? Do you remember our safeword?" 

You nodded your head yes, to which Natasha clicked her tongue at you. "Honey, I need verbal confirmation if you want this to happen." 

"Yeah, I remember it," you said, anticipation building. 

"Good. Use it whenever you want to stop, okay? I don't want your first experience to be an uncomfortable one." 

"Okay, I will." 

Satisfied with your response, she began leaving kisses on the inside of your thigh. Occasionally you felt her nip at your skin, a sign that she was gently marking you up, leaving hickeys wherever her mouth would go. 

You sighed contentedly before letting out a series of soft moans as she moved her mouth from your thighs to your glistening pussy. She pressed gentle kisses on the sensitive area, and you could feel her smirk against your skin when you let out a sudden gasp at her lips moving up to your clit. 

She was toying with you, and you knew it; but you loved it regardless. 

You felt as she pressed feather light kisses to your clit, giving you just enough friction to feel it but not nearly enough to be able to properly get you off. 

As much as you wanted to grind up against her face, you knew you had to remain patient if you wanted to be able to truly enjoy this. You had waited this long, surely you could wait a little bit longer. Still, Natasha no longer teasing you and just getting on with it would certainly be nice.

"Nat, please." You whined, your hand going to rest on her head lightly. 

"Oh, sweetheart." She peered up at you from between your legs, a visible smirk on her face. "I suppose I have been teasing you a little too much, huh? Let me fix that." 

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt her move her tongue along your already wet folds, eliciting a moan from you so loud your neighbors could definitely hear it.

At least she wasn't teasing you anymore, but that still meant you had a long night ahead of you. 

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Main masterlist | MCU masterllist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @gilmore-angel @xxromanoffxx @your-next-daydream @whistle1whistle @alexxavicry @elenavampire21 @truthindreams-blog1 @the-nightowl-blr @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @defstr8bl0nd13 (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Star Stickers

Summary: Buck & Tommy devise a plan to cheer you up since you haven’t been sleeping well due to insomnia. 

TW/CW: Evan Buckley & Tommy Kinard x Platonic!Reader, Fluff, Insomnia, Self Doubt

Requested?: No   

Word Count: 2,941 

A/N: Ngl this was entirely inspired by my desire to have someone in my life who surprises me with gold star stickers, that desire was inspired by a text post on here that says “I’m a gold star bisexual. The gold star has nothing to do with my bisexuality, I’ve just been very good today & I deserve it.” Anyway, hope you enjoy the fluff. Much love to all! Requests are Open! 

P.S. I just want a couple of gay besties that let me be a child every now & then... is that too much to ask?

--- Your POV --- 

     As I hop down out of the fire truck and trudge up the stairs to the coffee maker, Buck lovingly greets his boyfriend Tommy who has stopped by for lunch before they follow me up. In my sleep deprived and pissed at life state, I completely miss any and all other interactions. Truth be told the only reason I even noticed Tommy is here is because he ruffled my hair when I passed them. 

     I'm pouring what feels like my thousandth cup of coffee since breakfast this morning when Buck leans against the counter beside me, "How many cups of coffee is that today? I think you've set a new record." 

     From the table, Eddie looks up and raises his own mug of coffee, "Uh uh, I've got that record set at seven," before going back to his phone. 

     I roll my eyes, "This is number eight, Eddie. Nice try." He only shakes his head and takes another sip. 

     Leaning against the counter across from me, Tommy's eyes nearly pop out of his skull, "(Y/N)... that's way too much coffee for one day."

     I shrug and make my way over to plop down on a couch and drop my head back to rest on the cushions. I am soon joined by Buck beside me and Tommy who takes a seat on the coffee table. I pout at him which makes him chuckle, "What are you pouting about?" 

     I playfully stomp my feet a couple times, "I was gonna put my feet there." 

     Buck nudges me, "Just do what I do," before propping his feet up on Tommy's thigh. I look at Buck's boots and then mine before shrugging and resting mine on Tommy's knee. Tommy simply shakes his head and they strike up a conversation. 

     Before long, Cap is calling us all to the table to eat. As soon as I sit down, I flop my head over onto my forearms. To my right, Eddie sighs, "Why haven't you been sleeping?" 

     Without lifting my head, I shrug, "Between working doubles, insomnia, and noisy neighbors I just can't." 

     To my left, on the other side of Buck, Tommy tuts, "Do I need to dope you up with Benadryl?" 

     I lift my head finally as Buck scoops food onto a plate in front of me, "Please don't. I still owe the hat man money and even with all these doubles I can't pay him yet." Everyone at the table shakes their heads this time. They all know how bad my insomnia gets at times, so they're pretty familiar with my sleep deprived state. What they're not familiar with is the thoughts that keep me awake at night and create a void that should be filled by sleep. I always just blame the insomnia on something less concerning. 

--- Third Person POV --- 

     That evening as Buck and Tommy make their way into their apartment, Buck is concerned, "Do you think there's anything we could do to help (Y/N)?"  

     "Well, she vetoed my suggestion of Benadryl, so not really," Tommy responds as he shuffles through the mail in his hands. 

     Buck wanders off to the bedroom to change, raising his voice a bit so Tommy can hear him, "No, I know we can't really help with the insomnia. Me and Eddie already tried. I mean to like cheer her up." 

     Tommy enters the room as Buck is exiting to make dinner, "I don't know. Did you have something in mind?" 

     Buck is still thinking, tomatoes on the cutting board in front of him, when Tommy joins him in the kitchen. Saying nothing, Tommy grabs a knife from the knife block, holding it out in front of his distracted boyfriend. Buck snaps to and takes the knife to begin cutting up the tomatoes, "I can't really think of anything. I was hoping you had some suggestions." Tommy retrieves two beers from the fridge, cracking them both open before leaning against the counter beside Buck to take a sip of one, placing the other beside the cutting board. He takes a few more sips as he thinks.  

     Tommy has noticed how similar you and Buck are in the somewhat short time he's known you. He's noticed that a lot of the things that spark Buck's interest also spark yours and how you both get excited over similar things. He has an idea of where to start, "What's something that would instantly brighten your mood on a rainy day?" 

     Buck grins, "Seeing my hot pilot boyfriend but I don't think that would cheer (Y/N) up as much as it would me." 

     Tommy chuckles, shaking his head, "No, silly, something someone could give you or do for you," he clarifies, quickly adding, "regardless of who it is and something we could also do for (Y/N)." Buck is quiet for a moment before mumbling something that Tommy can't quite make out, "Baby, speak up please." 

     Buck takes a deep breath and sets the knife down. He turns to Tommy as he picks up his beer and takes a sip before repeating, "Gold stars." 

     Slightly surprised, Tommy tilts his head, "What do you mean?" 

     Buck smiles wide, "When I was little Maddie used to give me little gold star stickers whenever I did well on a homework assignment or test, even for not-so-great grades like Bs and Cs. I always kept the stickers because for some reason they made me feel really happy and proud." 

     Tommy is unsure, "So, you're suggesting we give our friend, who's a grown woman mind you, gold star stickers to cheer her up?" 

     Tomatoes forgotten, Buck sets his beer back down and insists, "Yes! She'd love it, I swear. One time on a callout she was taking care of a little girl while her mom was being bandaged up. The little girl was coloring the whole time and chatting to (Y/N) about what she was coloring and all kinds of other stuff.” Tommy has to dodge as Buck talks with his hands, “When it came time to leave, the little girl ran up to us as we were heading back to the truck. (Y/N) squatted down to see what she needed and the little girl stuck a unicorn sticker to her shirt pocket and then yelled, 'Thank you' as she ran back to her mom. I've never seen (Y/N) smile that big before."  

     Tommy thinks he's done but before he can even open his mouth to respond, Buck gasps, "And remember that time a bunch of us went to the beach? She had been wandering up and down the sand randomly picking stuff up and then when Maddie yelled at her to see if she wanted to go get ice cream, she ran over to us and was super excited to show us all the sea glass and shells she had collected in her shirt." 

     Tommy decides to make sure this time, "You done?" 

     Buck thinks for a second, placing his hands on his hips, "That depends. Are you convinced that we should stop and get gold star stickers before you drop me off at work in the morning?" 

     Tommy laughs as he answers, "Yes, Evan. We can stop and get gold star stickers in the morning."  

     The next morning, Buck directs Tommy to a local craft store where he had recently helped Chris buy stuff for a school art project. The two make their way inside but have to ask for help finding the stickers. Tommy chooses to ignore the judgmental look on the little old lady's face since Buck very clearly misses it, too busy craning his neck to see if he can spot what they came for. She leads them toward the back of the store and points down an aisle full of stickers. Tommy notices her shake her head as she walks away but is quickly distracted by the golden retriever stuck inside his 6' 2", muscular, firefighter boyfriend. 

     Tommy smiles brightly as he watches Buck make his way down the aisle, scanning for and collecting any sticker packs with shiny stars in them. When he returns to Tommy, bouncing with excitement, his hands are full of different sticker packs that he shuffles through to show him, "Which ones do you think she'd like most?" There's all different sizes and colors of stars, some have other sticker shapes mixed in; others are very clearly marketed toward teachers who use them to reward young students.  

     Tommy places his hands over Buck's to stop his indecisive shuffling, "Let's start by eliminating any that aren't just stars." Buck shuffles through and hands the rejected packs to Tommy who quickly puts them back where they belong. When he returns, Buck has tucked a few packs under his arm and is staring back and forth at the three remaining packs in his hands. 

     "Whatcha got?" Tommy asks looking down at the stickers. He finds that Buck is trying to decide between a pack that has only gold stars in varying sizes, a pack that has rainbow-colored stars that are all the same size, and a pack that has different pastel-colored glittery stars in a few different sizes.  

     "Yeah no," he says as he gently removes the glitter stars from Buck's choices and places them back where they belong. He knows you'd kill them for giving you the craft herpes that is glitter and to him you don't really seem like the pastel type. When he turns around to rejoin him, Buck is already heading toward the front.  

     When he finally catches up to Buck, he's handing both the gold and rainbow packs to a younger cashier who smiles brightly when she sees them, "Aw these are cute! Are you getting them for your kid?" 

     Buck laughs softly, "Uh no, just- just trying to brighten up a friend's day." She smiles at him and nods as she rings them up. She gives him the total as Buck taps his card on the pin pad. Once the receipt shoots out and Buck collects the stickers, the two make their way back to the Jeep to head to the 118, deciding that Buck could hang onto the gold stars and Tommy could man the rainbow stars. Somehow, they still make it there before you. 

--- Your POV ---

     After yet another night of tossing and turning, I trudge into the fire house like a zombie looking for brains, except I just want coffee. I make my way to the locker room, change clothes, and head upstairs b-ling straight for the coffee maker. My path is blocked by Buck and Tommy who are both leaning on the counter in front of the wonderful machine of caffeinated goodness with their arms crossed looking like they were expecting me. I join them and attempt to shove them out of my way but they won't budge. Instead, Buck turns his back toward me and pours coffee into a mug before facing me again and holding it out to me. 

     I take it gratefully and enjoy a sip before they both reach up and stick something to my forehead. Bewildered, I look up toward my hairline before deciding I don't have it in me to give a shit right now. I plop into one of the chairs at the table, stickers still on my forehead, and drop my chin into my palm. "Did you get-" Eddie looks up from his phone and grins. His eyes cut behind me where Tommy and Buck are approaching, "Who's idea was that?" he asks pointing at my forehead. 

     Tommy takes a seat beside me, sipping his own cup of coffee, "Let's see, maybe the one who can't sit still," he smiles as he points his thumb behind us at Buck who is bouncing on the balls of his feet, "because he's too excited to see her reaction when she sees them." 

     I look back at Buck whose smile is so big it looks painful. Sighing I pull my phone out and open the camera. There I find two stars on my forehead; one is rainbow and the other is slightly bigger and gold. I can't help but smile so big it probably matches Buck's as I look back at him again. He does a little happy dance before getting very close to Tommy's face, "I told you she'd like them." I quickly snap a photo in which you can clearly see the two stars on my forehead as well as Buck and Tommy, who are still in very close proximity, smiling at each other before putting my phone away. Soon a conversation picks up as Buck sits down on the other side of me.  

     At some point I decide that I need to find some paper to keep my stars on because I can't exactly walk around all day with my face covered in stickers, Buck has added two more since the first two. I also can't bring myself to just throw them away either. Having no luck elsewhere I make my way to Bobby's office and knock softly. He answers and when I open the door, he laughs, "Whatcha got there?" 

     I look up toward the stars and smile, "Gifts from Buck and Tommy. I was wondering if I could have a piece of paper to put them on."  

     Bobby nods, handing me a sheet of printer paper, "Of course," and as I turn to leave, peeling the stars from my forehead and placing them on their new home, he adds, "It's good to see you smiling again (Y/N)." 

     I give him a big smile, "Thanks, Cap." 

     A little while later, Tommy is heading out to go grocery shopping and clean up their apartment. Eddie and I follow as Buck is walking Tommy out. Tommy stops when he notices me. He backtracks to me as he pulls his sticker pack out of his back pocket. After placing a new sticker on the tip of my nose, he hands the pack to Eddie, "Hit her when she least expects it." Eddie nods, watching as I remove the sticker from my nose and add it to my collection with a big smile on my face. Tommy ruffles my hair before rejoining Buck at the door and heading out. 

     Throughout the rest of the day, Buck and Eddie take their sticker duties very seriously. At one point, from upstairs I notice them over by the engine whispering to each other. When they catch me watching, Eddie sassily shoos me away with sticker pack in hand making Buck laugh heartily. Not long after that, I am bombarded by not one, not two but six star stickers. Each one from a different member of the team.  

     After a particularly grueling call out, I sit with my head leaned against the window. In my peripheral, I notice Buck and Eddie make eye contact and nod at each other before both of them reach in their pockets, pick out a sticker, and slap them both on my forehead. Every chance they can, they are stickering me. I walk around the corner coming from the bathroom, sticker. I pour myself a cup of coffee, sticker. I'm helping Hen take inventory in the ambulance, sticker. Every single sticker makes me smile. 

     By the time Tommy arrives to pick Buck up that evening, I'm pretty sure Buck and Eddie are both out of stickers and my printer paper is getting full. As we are walking to our vehicles, Buck rushes over to meet Tommy, who is leaning against the door of his jeep, before we can and whispers something to him. Tommy's face breaks into a big smile. I'm dropping my bag into the passenger seat of my Bronco when Tommy places what feels like a big sticker right in the middle of my forehead, "Buck said he saved the biggest one for me since I wasn't here all day like they were." 

     I grin and look around at my three friends, "Thank you guys. You genuinely made my day," I look down at the paper in my hands as I peel the newest star off my forehead and place it with the others, "I don't think you realize how much this means to me."  

     Tommy ruffles my hair, "Anytime, kiddo. Besides, I don't think you realize how much joy this whole thing has brought Evan." We both look at Buck who is grinning as wide as humanly possible.  

     Buck pulls me into a hug, "If you ever need a star sticker day again, just say the word." I nod as he pulls away. 

     Eddie places his hand on my shoulder, "He's being dead serious." 

     I laugh, "I know. I will." With that, the four of us are parting ways and heading home. On my way home, all I can think about is how happy I am to have such amazing people in my life. Often, the most prominent insomnia inducing thought at night is that of loneliness. I've spent hours lying awake at night wondering if I actually have people who care about me or if they just let me hang around because they pity me. I wonder if I even deserve to have them around. After a day full of stickers, I truly believe that my team genuinely cares about me. Why else would Buck and Tommy get up early to buy star stickers before work? Why would Cap smile so big just because I'm smiling. Why would everyone get such a kick out of getting to put a sticker on my face? They care about me and I care about them. They mean the world to me. They are my stars. 

Masterlist

More 911

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for asking my neighbors to stop partying at night?

This only really happened last night, and I have no intention of interacting with them again.

Our neighbors have a streak of being obnoxious at night, seemingly throwing parties all night long during the summer. They're pretty noisy in other aspects, but this took the cake. None of this would be an issue if our house didn't somehow magically make all the sound they make transfer up into the upstairs, into my parents room and bathroom. I've been told not to interact with them, and I heeded that advice for the most part, but they finally broke the camel's back.

It's 3 in the morning. I can hear their music blasting from the hallway and decide I've had enough. I got cold feet at first, but I gathered the courage to confront them about it. They were in their backyard, in a hot tub. It was too dark, so I couldn't actively tell they were drunk at all. I asked them if they could keep it down, implying that I don't mind them partying if they do it a bit quieter. Everyone else seemed to be in agreement for it, aside from the main guy.

The guy explains how his grandmother died recently, and how he's partying it out. I don't mind that, of course, and my previous sentiment still stands. However, I didn't exactly care too much for this, as this wasn't something I needed to know; I just wanted to get some sleep. After assuming things were winding down I entered the house again and went into my room.

My mom immediately found out I confronted them, as the guy from earlier started yelling threats toward us outside to his friends. The only threat I recall is "I'm going to shit on their lawn". I tried to argue against it, saying that I wanted to put my foot down and how I didn't know they'd be drunk, but then she mentions how they were going to deal with it in the morning, something I didn't know. Our bickering wakes my dad up, and we stay up at around 4:30-5 listening and assessing the damage. By the sounds of it, the main guy wasn't too happy, but was possibly pulled back into the house.

Things settled down between me and my parents, ultimately agreeing that yes, it was a bad idea to confront them, standing my ground and putting my foot down wasn't the worst thing I could've done. To me it is, and that's why I'm throwing this to the wind.

Am I the asshole?

[kipercrow]

A Gassy Roomate

Based on: ​​https://at.tumblr.com/imagineyourgassyotp2/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-is-apartment-hunting/yktjrcnuqeud

Kevin: 24 (He/They)

Saige: 25 (They/Them)

I stared at the computer screen, scrolling from webpage to webpage. I need an apartment rather quickly. I got a job as a writer for a Pop Culture website. Right now I live with my parents, sure it’s fine but the commute to the office is pretty long, and I need somewhere closer. So, I’ve been spending the past few days looking for apartment listings or roommate offers. So far the apartments have either been too small, not have enough light, and definitely have no room for a goat let alone a dog. I keep scrolling and scrolling when suddenly I see an offer that feels too good to be true. 

Hello! Looking for a roommate to cover 10% of the rent. I will cover the rest of the $1,217 rent and as I work from home I will be able to make any meals to accommodate your living experience. I have a slight medical condition, I am willing to go into more detail about it during our face to face visit. 

If you are interested please send an email through the contact button on top, include “Roommate” in your subject line. 

Saige

The images Saige included of the apartment are amazing. It looks really spacious and Saige has good taste in furniture. The bedroom that they show looks really nice, I think I can feel comfortable here. What’s the worst that can happen? I always send my location to my parents, you know, just in case I go missing. So I decide to send Saige an email.

Hi! My name is Kevin. I saw your roommate offer and I am willing to meet up to see the place and talk to you. 

I write some more letting them know about my job and how much I make. A minute after I send the email, Saige responds. They let me know what time we can meet later today, which works out really well for me since I have nothing else to do today. 

I got out of the train and walked over to Saige’s building. Their apartment is on the second floor and so far everything seems pretty good, no complaints from me. Knock on the door and Saige greets me when they open it. “Hey nice to meet you face to face, come on in” I enter the apartment and it’s as amazing as I thought it’d be. “Wow it’s really nice” I say, smiling afterwards. “Heh, thanks. I tried my best. Of course if you decide to move in, you can add whatever you want. Unless it’s like an animal head. I draw the line there.” “Haha don’t worry, I don’t like that kind of stuff.” “Great! Follow me and I’ll show you your room. Over there is my bedroom and the bathroom is right across the hall from you.” This is great!” The room is pretty spacious, and it shouldn’t be too hard to bring whatever I need over. We walk over to the living room and sit on the couch, past the living room I can see the kitchen, it looks pretty big as well. “So Kevin, what do you think?” “I think this is all pretty great. I mean this apartment is big and spacious. It’s close to the subway-” as I talk I see Saige shifting in his seat, and they look uncomfortable, “- You seem really great. The building is clean. I have a few questions, are there any bugs that sneak in?” “Ahh no, no bugs” “Great! How noisy are the neighbors?” “They’re great, just great.” “Awesome! Okay so, in the post you said that you’re willing to go into your medical condition.” Before Saige could answer we were greeted with a noise that a lot of us are familiar with.

PPPBBBRBRRRBPTTTTTT

Saige instantly goes red. “Oh my gosh I’m so so sorry” I fan the air in front of me and laugh. “No no it’s fine, that was good. My uncle would be jealous!” Saige gets up and opens a window. “Okay so, my slight medical condition is that I have chronic gas, well I’ll go more into it. It’s like related to how my insides work. I used to have a lot of cramps and stuff you don’t want to hear about, but now because I’ve been adjusting my diet and the food I make has let me survive this long. So-” they stop and hold up a finger and lean to the left.

BBRBRRBRRTRTTTT

“-All I have now is gas. Which I totally get if you don’t want to move in with me because of that. I’ve lost so many roommates because of my farts.” I looked back at him. “That’s it? You just fart a lot?” “Yeah pretty much.” “I don’t mind it that much. They don’t smell that bad and I can be gassy depending on what I eat. So I don’t think I have a reason to worry.” “You really don’t mind it?” “Of course not.” “So will you be thinking of moving in?” “Yes! I’m happy to move in.” “Great, we can sign the lease tomorrow and you can move in after that” “That sounds great. Thank you so much” We stand up and shake hands and I go on my way.

-1 Week Later-

A week has gone by since I saw Saige’s apartment and signed the lease. I’ve moved in little by little and have put up most of my things and gotten a dresser for my clothes. I have a box of some pictures I want to put up but there’s no rush. Tonight is my first night in the apartment. I'm kind of nervous, but Saige is making dinner for us. After changing into my pajamas, I walk to the kitchen.

PBPBPBRTTT

“Hungry?” Saige said not bringing the fart to attention. “Yeah, the food smells good. What is it?” I ask.

BRBRPRBP

“Some roasted veggies, salmon, and some white rice. I hope you like it.” “I’m sure I will.” Ever since I moved in, Saige has been farting. It’s true that they do fart more than another person, but thankfully the smell isn’t so bad. The smell of the food they’re cooking greatly overpowers the stench of their gas. I haven’t farted in front of them yet but they don’t seem to mind. “Here, tell me if the rice is done.” they say handing me a spoonful. As soon as I taste it, the rice tastes so wonderful. I’m not sure how they did it, but the rice is different from any other type of rice I’ve eaten before. “It’s amazing. I think it’s perfect.” “Great! I’m glad to hear that.” They turn off the stove for the rice and check in the oven. 

BRAAPPP

“Okay, just a little bit more for the veggies and salmon to be done. Then we can eat.” they say as we walk over by the sink. “So Kevin, how do you like it so far?” they ask me, smiling. “Really great. I feel really comfortable here” I respond. As if to accentuate my point, I feel gas heading on out.

PBRTT

“Hey nice! You finally let one rip!” “I told you I was feeling comfortable.” “I guess it’ll take you some time to match up to mine.” We laugh after they say that. Saige walks over to the oven, turns it off, and pulls out the veggies and the salmon. “Alright food is done, sit down at the table and I’ll serve you.” I sit at the table and watch Saige serve us food. We eat together and talk about what we want to do later, we settle on a movie night. We also set some ground rules about farting at the table. We agreed that it’s alright to fart at the table, unless the other person’s mouth is open and unless people are at the table with us.

Saige and I moved to the living room, sitting next to each other on the couch, resting our legs on foot rests. Saige put on ‘Scooby Doo and the Cyber Chase’, I haven’t seen the movie in a while but it’s a fun watch.

PRBRRPBPRBTTTTT

“Sorry about that, my food makes me gassier” they say.

BRRBRBTBTB

BRBRBRBBR

“If it gets to you, you can open a window.” “It’s no problem.” As we sit and watch the movie, Saige lets out a couple more farts, my stomach rumbles.

BBRRRAAPPP

Woah, that was bigger than my usual ones! “Nice one man!” Saige says, extending their hand towards me. I high five him back. “Thanks”

PPBBBPRBRTTTTT

PBRRBRPTTTTPBRTT

PRPBTT

“Guess I’m gassy today haha” “Oh no, is my food having an affect on you.” “Probably not. Must be a mix of my emotions, and so what if it does. That just means I can keep up with you now.” I smile at them. They smile back and then lean to the side and let out another fart.

PRBRBPRBRPBRBTTTTTRBPTBTTTTTRBPTBT

“Oh that’s great! I was nervous that you were going to move out.” “Oh no I wouldn’t, not for a little farting. You know it’s great that at my job we have our own cubicles, so there’s no worry about anyone walking into my farts. I mean the amount you fart is nothing compared to the gas from my boss. Phew! He must let rip like 10 a minute. I think it’s all the protein powder he intakes” I say before laughing. I lean to my right and let out another fart.

RBRBBRBRBRBRBRBTT

“That was a good one Kevin!” they hold up a finger

PRRRRRRTTTTTTT 

BRRRAAPPPPPPP 

PBRBRTTTTTTT

Three farts in quick succession! “You have a talent Saige!” “Heh thanks! I’ve been thinking about heading to the gym more. Let me know what protein powder your boss gets so we can beat him at his own game.” I lean forward slightly

PRRRRRRPRUTUTTTTT

BRPRTTTT

“Will do! You’re pretty muscular Saige. Anyone would love to have a body like yours” “Ha thanks! You have a good body yourself. At least you don’t have my gas!” they say winking afterwards. I blush a little. Saige lifts their leg slightly.

PBRBBRRBRRTTTTTTTTTRBBRTTT

PBRRBRRRRRRRRRRRTTTBTBTTTTBPTBB

We spend the rest of the movie ripping farts when we need to. They put their arm around me, and I put my head on their chest. I really like Saige, they make me feel safe. I’m glad to be their roommate. 

Once the movie ends we head to our rooms to call it a night. I let Saige use the bathroom first, I can see them brushing their teeth.

BRRRRUUURRBTUTTTTTT

When they’re done in there, I head in and brush my teeth. I can hear Saige farting in their room. I head back to my room, once I do Saige pokes their head in. “Hey, just wanna say goodnight. Oh and if you wake up before me tomorrow, the pots and pans are in the oven.” “Thanks. Night Saige.” Saige turns around but stands in place.

PBPBRBRRBRRTTTTT

“That’s my goodnight kiss.” they say before heading off to bed. I laugh and close my door.

BBRRBTTT

BRRRTTT

PBRTTT

Ha..the food did a number on me for sure. I grab my phone and see that I have a text from my boss. “Kevin! Don’t come in tomorrow, we’re doing an online day. Sorry for the inconvenience, take care!” As I get done reading this, I hear Saige farting in their room.

PPBRBRPRRBRRBRBBRBBBTTTT

Tomorrow is going to be a fun day.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Slide (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: T - language, suggestiveness, whump/blood/injury Word count: 5.4k

Summary: Benedict takes you on holiday to a remote bothy in the Scottish highlands. But things do not go according to plan.

Author's Note: This is an anon request fill for Benedict and Reader stranded in a cabin with an illness/injury. You can't threaten me with a whumpy good time, because this idea completely took over my brain and I wrote it in a day. 😅 Enjoy

“We should take advantage of the break in the rain. Let’s go on a little hike.”

“A hike?” You looked up from the sofa where you sat curled with a book. Benedict was standing by the door of the bothy, excitedly pulling on a coat. You had been having a relaxing holiday. Five days in a private luxury bothy in the Scottish highlands. He had been coming to the spot alone for years to paint and now wanted to share it with you under the pretense of your dating anniversary. You didn’t know if you believed such things deserved celebration, but your work in the city had been draining you lately and the reprieve was much appreciated. 

As luck would have it, your trip coincided with the rainiest weather in decades. It was always raining somewhere in Scotland but this was something else entirely. Torrential downpours for sporadic periods each day. But that hadn’t dampened your time together. Thus far, four days of nothing but lie-ins and fireside bottles of wine; reading while Benedict painted from imagination; lazy sex in the mornings and raucous sex at night. It was a bit dangerous that the bed was lofted, as your activities threatened to send you flying off of it. The little hideaway was so secluded that there was no internet and no cell signal, and that was one of the reasons Benedict loved it so much. He said he could hear his muse more clearly without the rest of the world butting in. Neighbors were also an impossibility, as the bothy was situated in a little copse of trees accessible only by crossing a footbridge that skirted a rough cliff edge. Nothing too high off the ground, but narrow enough that your car was parked half a mile away on the other side of the bridge. It was a tiny paradise, just you and the trees and the birds. The rain had occasionally relented to allow you a few rambles nearby, but you hadn’t undertaken anything as ambitious as to be called a ‘hike’.

Benedict was pulling his boots on and waving you toward the door. “Come on! Fresh air will do us good. Let’s go.”

You were remiss to leave your cozy nest but you knew he was right, and his crooked smile was irresistible. With a sigh you rose to your feet, donned your own coat and followed him.

He took your hand as you traipsed through the wet grass down the trail toward the bridge. The air had an earthy musk scent from the previous night’s deluge. It did feel good to stretch your legs. You didn’t even bother asking where you were headed, you would let Benedict lead you. But he suddenly stopped short. 

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

The path before you no longer led to the footbridge. Instead it ended abruptly at a slanting jumble of boulders. A rockslide off the side of the nearby cliff had completely blocked your exit.

You both stood dumbstruck, puzzling out your next steps.

“I don’t know how we didn’t hear this,” you murmured, imagining the rumbling crash of so many large stones piling upon themselves. 

Benedict chuckled next to you. “Well, one of us was being exceptionally noisy last night.”

You smacked him but it only made him laugh harder. Your frustration was building, so unused to being confronted with an obstacle you couldn’t quickly surmount. Or perhaps you could.

“I’m going to climb over.” You said definitively. “It looks solid enough. I’ll get to the other side, go back to the car and get help so this can get cleared away.”

“Well, I’m going with you.” Ben’s brow furrowed, something anxious in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Maybe. But one at a time. Let me test it out and find the footholds. I’m lighter than you.”

“Be careful,” he urged, but you were already clambering onto the nearest rock, pulling yourself over the larger pieces and tentatively resting your weight with each careful step. The top of the mound rose about eight feet off the ground and you scrabbled your way to it easily enough. Standing on top, you could see on the other side that the footbridge was still intact. It gave you a surge of confidence and you stepped forward, eager to scurry down the other side. Then everything sank, your stomach and your optimism as your right foot found a weak spot and shuddered downward in a small cascade of stones, sinking in up to your thigh until you felt it pinned at the ankle, the rocks trapping you in place.

“Shit!” You hissed, tugging uselessly to free yourself. It didn’t hurt, but it had immobilized you.

“What’s wrong?” Ben called from below, panicked.

You gritted your teeth. God, this was embarrassing. Off you had gone with bravado and now the universe was going to show you better. It was going to double down in fact, because you felt the first drops of rain spattering you from the dull grey sky. You clawed at the stones around your leg, able to toss some aside but others were so large you’d never be able to lift them. An animal part of your brain was starting to flood with fear, but you fought to keep your voice steady.

“I’m bloody stuck.” You lamented. “My leg is caught.” It wasn’t a request for assistance, but you should have known how he would react. 

“Hang on, I’m coming!” From your vantage point you could see Ben dash forward and begin to climb the rocks, not caring to test the stability of his steps, just rushing toward you. You opened your mouth to tell him to slow down, but your voice caught in your throat as everything suddenly rumbled, an ominous herald of what was coming. You both froze, staring wide eyed and feet apart from one another. Then everything shifted and fell away. 

Your entire sense of gravity tilted as the rocks beneath and around you slid, all jumbling together as they surged further away from the cliffside. You felt your leg snap within the grinding stone and cried out, landing on your side and feeling a jagged edge glance across your forehead. Your eyes fell on Benedict clamoring to reach you as he lost his own footing on the tumbling wave. He was unsuspecting, his eyes locked only on you when a massive boulder came rolling as easily as a toy ball and slammed into his side, knocking him out of view and into the tumult of roiling earth beneath you. You screamed his name but it was lost to the thunderous clatter. 

Amidst the chaos, one thought began to form clearly in your mind. This was how you would die. Crushed in a rockslide thanks entirely to your own stupidity. And worst of all, you had dragged Ben with you. The nightmare deepened as the sky ripped with a clap of thunder and rain began to pummel you in earnest as everything continued to slide and roll around you. Numb with anguish, all you could do was bury your face in your hands and wait for fate to claim you.

But it didn’t. In what felt like only a moment, everything stilled. The rocks had stopped moving, their sound had died away, and you were lying on top of the mound sensing nothing but the cold patter of heavy rain. You were still alive, a fact that was confirmed by the burning pain you felt pulsing in your leg. Looking down you saw that it was freed, released from the churning rocks, but it was bloodied and wouldn’t respond to your attempts to move it. Though it was a novel experience for you, there was no doubt in your mind that it was broken.

That was the least of your worries. As you came back to your senses they all tuned to one goal. You had to find Benedict. You called out for him, voice croaking, but were met with silence. You pushed yourself up to look around. The slide hadn’t buried the trail any further, only shifted on top of itself. You could see the path back to the bothy on one side and the footbridge on the other. But no Benedict. You screamed his name again, louder. Nothing. A sickening dread started to rise from your stomach as you began to pull yourself over the rock. You couldn’t stand properly and even if you could, you didn’t want to risk disturbing anything. It was better to spread your weight across the surface and so you began to slither on your belly, fingers bloodying themselves on rough edges as you dragged along in the direction you had last seen him. Everything was turning slick and muddy with the rain. You moved back down toward the trail, eyes sweeping, and just near the bottom is where you saw a spot of orange amidst the rubble. His shirt.

“Ben!” You shrieked, half-rising on your good leg to hobble over to him. You reached the bottom of the rock pile and saw him lying at the edge of it. You chanted his name desperately as you landed at his side. He was on his back mostly unhidden, a few small stones piled around his limbs which you pushed away, but one large one wedged over the right side of his chest. He was frighteningly pale and seemingly unconscious, lying still as he was battered by rain.

“Ben,” you called to him, taking his face in your hands. “Ben, wake up!” When he didn’t respond, your heart started hammering. No, no, no. You bent an ear to his mouth, silently praying to every deity you had ever heard of. To your great relief, he was breathing. But he was struggling. Your eyes landed on the boulder, covered in lichen and mocking you. You suddenly hated it more than you had hated anything in your life. With a surge of strength you didn’t know you possessed you drove yourself against it, leveraging with your good knee. It felt like fighting a brick wall and yet somehow after a moment, it loosened and you shoved until it tumbled backward and off of Benedict. 

Immediately he took a loud, wheezing inhale followed by a groaning “Fuuuuucccckkkkk.”

You would have laughed with relief if you were not so strung out on adrenaline and hell bent on getting as far away from this death trap as possible. 

“Ben,” You shook him lightly. “Benedict, open your eyes.” 

He did so, blinking against the rain, taking a moment to focus. Those bright, gentle eyes gazed back at you and made you feel rooted to the earth again. 

“We need to get back to the bothy. Can you stand?”

He stared at you, seeming dazed, then brought a hand to your forehead, speaking softly. “You’re bleeding.”

As his fingers came away red, you were surprised that you didn’t feel any pain other than the dull throb of your leg. None of this was important right now. You had to get to shelter and then you could assess all of your wounds.

“I’m alright.” You stated firmly. “We need to go, come on now.”

He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, the sleeve of his coat ripped and dirtied. You braced against each other as best you could and tried to stand but both fell back with shouts of pain, you unable to tolerate any weight on your shattered leg, and him clutching at his right side. You were in bad shape, but had no other options than to push through. No one was coming to help you and neither of you would leave the other.

You locked into each other’s eyes, breathing hard, and a silent understanding passed between you. Now was not a time for weakness. You would need to be strong for each other. You banded your arms around each other once again and, wincing and gasping, slowly staggered to your feet. Ben leaned heavily across your shoulders while you hopped on your left foot and dragged the other behind you.

Somehow through the pouring rain, with the screaming throb in your leg and Benedict swaying weightily beside you, you inched back along the trail to the bothy, soaked to the bone once you finally shambled inside. You maneuvered to gingerly lay Benedict onto the sofa but he still cried out at the movement. Then he laid still, eyes screwed shut against the pain as he exhaled raggedly through his nose. Spurred to action, you hopped loudly around the small space gathering towels, blankets, water, and the tiny first aid kit stashed in a cupboard. What use it would be, you didn’t know, but it was all you had. You checked your phone, already knowing there was no signal to dial out but instinctively needing to confirm it. Your mind spun. Plans. Actions. Steps. You were going to fix this. You were going to get out of this situation. You just had to keep your head, which was significantly harder to do when the man you loved was lying nearby as pale as a ghost and groaning. But you could get yourselves warm and dry. That was a first step.

After stoking a fire in the woodstove you lowered to sit next to the sofa, clumsily tumbling onto the floor as you winced at the shooting ache in your leg. Benedict’s eyes flew open and he looked at you with concern. “Your leg’s broken?” He intuited.

“Mmhmm,” You nodded, breathing through the pain. “But I’m fine. We need to check you out.”

You mopped his hair and face with a towel, the friction and heat from the nearby stove bringing some color back to his skin. You searched his eyes.

“What hurts? How do you feel?”

He grimaced. “Dizzy, but not too bad. I don’t know if I’m concussed or if I just got hit by a great bloody bunch of rocks.” He ended with his telltale smirk.

You were feeling anything but humorous at that moment. His joke made your insides seize, worried something may be seriously wrong.

“Have you been concussed before? Do you know what it feels like?”

He grinned further. “I have. You don’t grow up with seven siblings and not end up concussed. This doesn’t feel the same, but I can’t be sure.” Your mind started to quest through any errant information you had about concussions. He could read the panic in your expression and brought a hand to wrap around yours. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. If I start to go loopy that’s not a good sign, but I really think I’m okay.”

All you could do was nod tightly, imagining a dozen horrific scenarios and realizing there was little to nothing you could do about them. You simply had to stay focused on the moment and the fact that he was clear headed now. 

“What else?”

He waved a hand vaguely over his right side. “Something bad, here.”

As carefully as you could, you worked in tandem to peel off his sopping coat while bit back yelps of agony. You frowned at the sight of his right arm, scraped and lacerated shoulder to wrist, but it didn’t appear to be broken. Then you lifted the hem of his t-shirt and he arched as best he could so that you could pull it off, turning his face away as he seethed into the cushions. You sucked in a breath, horrified by what you had uncovered. A bruise, black and purple and green, mottling the entire side of his body and rippling with each breath. Cursing to yourself, you rested fingertips lightly over it and even that caused him to flinch. 

“I think…” you wavered. “I think your ribs are broken.”

He stared at the ceiling, his voice tight but sarcastic. “Yep, that feels about right.”

“Can you breathe?”

“Well enough,” he sighed. 

The severity of the situation was sinking in. Hysteria was starting to bubble in your chest but you locked your jaw, determined to keep it together. “What do I… What should I do, Ben? How do I fix this?”

He turned to look at you, his expression going soft. “You can’t fix it.”

That threatened to push you over the edge. Your constitution slipped, your chin started to tremble, tears mounting in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He cupped your face with a large hand, pads of his fingers pressing into your hair, urging you to focus. “We’re going to be alright. This is what’s going to happen. Tomorrow is our last rental day and the owners visit the property between guests. So they’ll come, see the path is blocked and know that we’re stuck here. They’ll get help. We just have to wait until tomorrow. We have everything we need here. We just have to be still and wait.”

You nodded, swallowing hard against the tears, ashamed that you couldn’t be stronger but breathlessly grateful that he would comfort you even when he was grievously injured. You kissed the palm of his hand and steadied yourself against its warmth. So very little was in your control, but you were determined to right the things that were. Moving carefully and trying to ignore the protesting pangs from your leg, you dried him off and piled him with blankets. The stove was burning high and the bothy still had the cozy air you had enjoyed the past few days. You stripped off your own soaking tops down to your bra and wrapped yourself in a blanket. Then you wet a rag and started to clean the cuts on his arm, dressing them with the ointment and bandages from the first aid kit.

Benedict watched you silently, something twinkling and bemused in his eyes. You worried that if you stared at him too long you were going to cry, so you focused on your task. Once you were finished he held out his hand.

“Give me the rag.” You handed it to him. “Come here.”

You shifted up to face him, concerned. “What do you need?”

Wordlessly, he pulled your chin closer with one hand and began to lightly dab at your forehead with the other. You closed your eyes, feeling the tears threaten again. If there was one thing Benedict Bridgerton would never cease to be come hell or high water, it was a caretaker of others. You weren’t quite sure what you had done to deserve such a man, but you knew it was imperative that you never let him go. As he wiped the blood away, your cut started to sting. You hadn’t found a mirror to examine it and you frankly didn’t want to. He was your only concern right now.

“Does it hurt?” He asked softly. You were too overcome to do anything other than nod. Then he pulled your chin down even further, leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to your wound. 

That’s what broke you. You finally let the tears spill down your cheeks, burrowing your face into the side of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Ben,” you whispered.

“What are you sorry for?” He asked, bewildered.

“I should never have tried to climb those damned rocks.”

He huffed. “You were trying to help us. I’m the one who shouldn’t have jumped up after you.”

You pulled back, sniffling. “You were trying to help me.”

“And look where all of that help landed us,” he smirked, causing you both to chuckle. But his laugh almost immediately turned into agonized gasps. 

“Alright, alright,” You put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “No laughing.”

“You need to splint your leg,” he rasped.

“How precisely should I do that?”

His eyes darted around the room. “The kindling for the stove. Take two long pieces and tie them off with towels.”

You began to drag yourself across the floor toward the woodpile, a realization forming that perhaps two people with zero medical training between them should not be as drawn to outdoor isolation as you were. You gathered two sturdy sticks and a handful of dish towels and then scraped your way back to his side.

“Make sure your leg is straight and tie it tight,” Benedict instructed. You nodded but were filled with apprehension. Ever since you had collapsed on the floor, your useless leg had been twisted at an appalling angle. You knew setting it was going to hurt. Taking a deep breath, you reached forward and tugged it straight. A white hot jab of pain jolted through your whole body, causing you to scream. Distantly, you could hear Benedict speaking to you, his hand rubbing circles across your back. His touch was what you focused on, the only thing helping you to fight the nausea as you lined up the wood and tied it tightly on either side of your broken limb, whimpering with each knot pulled. You fell back against the side of the sofa, panting as you found equilibrium and the searing pain faded back to an insistent throb. Benedict wrapped an arm across your chest, the closest thing to an embrace he could offer. You lay in silence together, exhausted, settling in for what was sure to be the longest night of your life.

Warmed by the fire and lulled by the rain driving against the windows, the atmosphere inside the bothy would have been dreadfully romantic if you weren’t both immobilized by broken bones and stranded, awaiting rescue. It would have been all too easy to fall asleep, but you were determined to stay awake until help arrived. You scooched yourself around the floor with all the grace of a geriatric slug, feeding the stove and brewing tea which you helped Benedict to drink as he lay flat. Out of habit you kept checking your phone, wondering if by some miracle a cell signal would appear.

“Sorry there’s no service here,” Benedict frowned. “Part of the whole appeal. Going off the grid.”

“I know,” you ran a reassuring hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault, I just can’t help checking. We need something to occupy ourselves.” Your eyes fell to the stacks of books beneath the coffee table, a motley assortment from the owners and you suspected, prior guests. You began to assess the authors, gauging his reactions.

“Dostoevsky?”

He grinned. “Well, I would enjoy that but I know it would put you to sleep.”

He was right. You set it back. “Ooo! Byron!” You lilted, waving the book at him tauntingly.

He groaned. “God, please. I’m in enough pain already.”

You laughed and tossed it aside. Next was a sleek, mysterious cover with a blurb promising ‘luxurious, unbridled passion’. You smirked. That seemed exciting enough to keep you both awake. 

“We’re reading filth,” you announced, settling in next to him again. You had expected something humorous, the kind of tawdry romance novel that every aunt seemed to be fond of. But while the story started out playful enough, the simmering sexual energy woven by the author’s talented prose was so evocative, you both started to squirm. The fearless, beautiful depictions of the lovers’ encounters were so salacious that you were too stunned to keep reading them aloud, your mouth falling open as you blushed instead. Dimestore trash this was not.

Benedict shifted behind you but you couldn’t look at him. “Maybe save that one for later,” he croaked. “Jesus, who wrote that?”

“Faye someone.” You mumbled, setting it aside with a mental note to steal it or buy your own copy.

“Please make me think of something else now,” Benedict pleaded, his voice tight.

“P.G. Wodehouse it is.” You smiled, grateful to have found something light and familiar.

“Brilliant.”

By the time you finished the short volume it was dark outside but the rain hadn’t let up. You could have switched on the lights but that seemed too harsh for the states you were in. The fire was a more relaxing illumination.

Your stomach rumbled, waking up after an extended period of anxiety. “We should eat something.” You had food enough to cook meals for one more day, but could scrounge for now. You trailed a hand lazily over Benedict’s cheek. “What do you want?”  He raised a brow. “Scotch. Neat.”

“You’re not drinking in your condition.” You said firmly, eliciting an exaggerated pout from him. “And neither am I. Do you have an appetite for anything solid?”

“Not really.”

“Just bread?”

You knew that would bring a light to his eyes. “With butter?”

You grinned. “Of course.” It was never a question with him. That was the one thing he would always happily eat. Setting off on another crawling journey across the floor to the kitchenette, you cobbled together your dinner. Bread, butter, a bit of cheese, a jar of olives. It would do. It was damn near continental. 

After your haphazard meal you found Benedict’s eyes drifting closed, everything about him looking utterly spent.

You held his hand in your own and kissed his bloodied knuckles. “Ben, you’re drifting off. Should you…can you sleep with a concussion?”

His eyes fluttered open, bleary. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Just wake me up every couple of hours to make sure I know my own name. Ask me some questions.”

“Alright.” You nodded, trying to ignore the spike of fear inside. What if he was hiding how he truly felt for your sake? What if he did have a concussion and got worse while he slept? What if you couldn’t wake him up again? Part of you wanted to plead with him to stay awake through the night, but it was overruled by the part that told you to trust him. Choosing hope, you squeezed his hand and laid it across his chest.

“What about you?” He was fading fast, eyes closed.

“I’m not tired,” you lied. “Get some rest.”

Then your vigil began. You set your phone alarm to go off every three hours and brewed another pot of tea. You would stay awake. If anything was compelling enough to combat your wearied body’s exhaustion, it was the need to make sure Benedict kept breathing and that he could come back to you when you woke him. You stayed at his side, studying the angles of his handsome face in the glow of the fire, grateful that he seemed to be peaceful. And you waited.

__

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Where are you?”

“In Scotland.”

“Why are we here?”

“We’re on holiday.”

“Who is your eldest brother?”

“Anthony.”

“Alright, go back to sleep.”

—

“Ben?”

“Mmm?”

“Where are you?”

“In the mountains.”

“Why are we here?”

“I wanted to paint.”

“Where did you take me on our second date?”

“I said, ‘What do you say we go to Marseille?’”

“Yes, it was awful of you. I finally committed to you and then you said cheesy mad shit like that.”

“But you came with me.”

“I did.”

“And you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did. Go back to sleep.”

—

The third time you woke him, the light was turning grey outside and the rain had weakened to fits of spray. It was the day of your rescue. You just had to wait a few more hours. You decided you should probably wake Benedict for good.

“Ben?” You ran your hands through his hair, coaxing him back.

“Mmm?” 

He had awoken so easily each time, it was reassuring.

“Where are you?”

“I’m with you,” he slurred.

Your heart faltered, touched by his response but also concerned at its vagueness. 

“And who am I?”

Even though his eyes remained closed, his lips tilted into a small smile. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Exhaustion, fear, relief and love heaping upon one another.

Your voice trembled. “Where are we both right now?”

“We’re stuck in the bloody bothy.” He spat.

You chuckled, running your thumb over his forehead. He seemed to be lucid. “Why are we here?”

“I wanted to ask you,” he sighed, sounding almost as if slipping back into sleep.

You were confounded. “Ask me what?”

At last his eyes blinked open, settling on you with the steady, blue-grey stare that you could drown in. 

“Get my coat.” 

Still confused, you did as he asked, pulling his coat from the side of the sofa and handing it to him. It was only when he began rummaging through the pockets that realization struck and you froze. Time seemed to slow as he finally pulled out a small box and tossed the coat aside. He pried the lid open and brought it to rest on his bruised chest so that you were staring face first at a silver ring twined with a sapphire and pearls.

“Ask you to be my wife.” He declared, that timeless cheeky grin lighting his face. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move. You weren’t sure if you were delirious with exhaustion or dreaming. He continued. “The hike was to an overlook. The landscape I painted that you love so much? I wanted to ask you there. I’m sorry we didn’t make it.”

Everything was falling into place. His insistence on this holiday. The uncharacteristic request for a hike. He had meant it to be one of the most memorable days of your life. It had certainly turned out that way, but not in the expected fashion.

Entirely ignoring the beautiful ring, you pulled him into a kiss.

“Oh, Ben.” You weren’t sure if you were laughing or crying or about to faint. You just needed to have him close.

He nuzzled his nose against yours, trying to convey as much affection as he could while not being able to move.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to be, but I need to ask you before anything else goes wrong.”

You stared back at him in alarm. “Nothing else is going to go wrong. Don’t you dare say that.”

He only smiled, devastating with his boyish grin and the cheerful crinkles around his bright eyes. 

“So? Will you?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I will.” Your words were muffled into his lips as you kissed him again, hands wound tight into his hair, never wanting to let go. You didn’t feel tired anymore. You didn’t feel your pain. All you felt was him. Even now he smelled so wonderful, tasted so wonderful. He was light and certainty. He felt like home. 

When you managed to pry yourself off of him, his eyes were glittering. He plucked the ring from its box and slid it onto your shaking hand.

“In sickness and in health.” He beamed. “I think we’ve already covered that bit.”

“Yes, we have.” You fell upon him again, breathless, everything fading behind the reality that he would be yours forever. It was a twist of fortune you’d never feel worthy of.

A few hours later you were snogging rather ferociously when someone began pounding on the door. It was emergency services. Just as Benedict had foretold, the bothy owners had seen the rockslide and sent help. He was infuriatingly correct in that way most of the time. A team of people dressed in yellow bandaged you both further and expressed surprise as how well you had handled yourselves under the circumstances. The rubble would take too long to be cleared but with specialty equipment they carried you expertly over to safety and into awaiting ambulances.

Your tallied damage was three leg fractures, three forehead stitches, three broken ribs and no concussion. ‘Symmetrically maimed’ as Benedict proudly announced to your family members who sped up to Scotland to collect you. In the subsequent weeks everyone was so busy fluttering around your injuries that no one noticed your ring finger. You and Benedict made a game of it, placing bets on who would be the first. You won the bet when three weeks in, Violet suddenly clamped eyes on your left hand and started yelping. Then added to the endless questions about your harrowing tale of survival, you were peppered with questions about wedding plans. Muscling through each day as a couple of lovesick invalids, you hadn’t found time to make any, but you had agreed on one thing. No matter where you went on honeymoon, hiking would not be on the itinerary.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @faye-tale

[medusapelagia]

Learning to Love 2

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,..)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve /Billy Tags: enemies to lovers, mention of parent's death (Steve's mom), mention of domestic violence Words: 1870

Harrington's place is a solitary house in the middle of nothing, surrounded by the woods and nothing else. Billy appreciates the privacy; no noisy neighbors that might call the police if they hear a few screams, like it wasn’t a normal thing, and no one around to see him limp the day after. Not bad at all.

Neil was even proud of him when he told him that he was going to tutor the richest boy in town.

He literally said, "Kid, I'm proud of you." Which is a first in Billy's life.

If the big house and the heated pool didn't give away how rich Harrington's family is, the doorbell would, it sounds like the doorbell they have in the old big mansions and Billy is almost expecting a butler in a pressed uniform showing him the living room instead of his schoolmate.

"You came." Harrington says, almost surprised.

"Told you I would. Are you disappointed, pretty boy?"

Steve shrugs, moving from the door and gesturing to Billy to get inside. The house is super modern and cold, the living room seems ready to be the set of a sitcom, the kitchen is so clean that it almost shines and Steve's room is the most boring room he has ever seen; there is nothing personal, not a trinket, a picture, a sporting trophy, nothing at all, just a desk and few books there are lying on the side.

"Do you want something to drink?" Steve asks, annoyed.

"I'm not here for a courtesy visit, I'm here to help you because you are too stupid to do your fucking homework and you need a babysitter." Billy snarls, ready to fight, but Steve doesn't take the bait, he sits at his desk and stares at his books.

"Where would you like to start?" He asks, pointing at the pile of books.

"What do you need more help with?"

"Math."

"Let's start there."

Steve takes his book and opens it, staring at the first problem.

"Come on! It is an easy one!" Billy sighs, taking the book and quickly solving the problem while Steve stares blankly at him "Can you just concentrate a little for Christ's sake! You didn't even write the right numbers! Are you stupid? Can't you copy some fucking numbers?"

Steve flinches, moving away from Billy. Billy sighs, this is not going well. He takes a deep breath and thinks about the waves of the ocean, trying to calm himself and when he feels a little bit settled he asks "Why... why didn’t you write the correct numbers?"

"I did!" Steve replies, "I can copy some stupid numbers, ok?"

Billy stares at him for a long moment and he sees how the boy squints while reading.

"Do you wear glasses?" He asks and Steve glares at him.

"Of course I don't, jackass!"

"Well, maybe you should. Have you seen a doctor recently?" After Billy broke a plate on his head.

"I... I don't like doctors." Steve confesses blushing in embarrassment.

“Are you scared of doctors?” Billy mocks him and Steve turns his face, avoiding Billy’s stare “Are you serious?” 

“I’m not scared… I just… I don't like them.”

Billy stares at him for the longest time before Steve finally cracks. “When mom went to the hospital… she never came back, ok? I know that’s stupid but I can’t deal with the smell of disinfectant ok? And I’m young and healthy, I don’t need a doctor!”

Billy can understand the fear of the doctors, the few times Neil brought him there with a broken arm or to fix his nose, he was always terrified that those doctors, who asked so many questions about how he got hurt, would have taken him away. Living with Neil was no fun, but living in a foster family didn’t sound much better either.

“I’m not saying you should do a complete checkup, I’m just suggesting that you might want to see an eye doctor, so maybe everyone will stop thinking that you’re stupid.”

“I don’t give a shit about what everyone else thinks about me! I was their fucking god and now what? You came to town, took my place and all my friends forgot about me. I guess they weren’t my friends after all and you are not my friend either! And I don’t need to study all this stupid shit because I’m going to work with my father as soon as I get out of high school! So what the fuck do you want from me? I’ll give you a good review, I’ll say that you were the best tutor ever. Let me copy you from your test and we’ll be good!”

Billy shakes his head “No.”

“What?!”

“No. I will not let you copy from me and I don’t give a fuck about your stupid opinion of my tutoring skills. I just gave you a suggestion, you don’t want to follow it? Fine.” Billy replies, ready to get back to his place. Harrington is avoiding his stare, he is clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles are white.

“Stop being such a baby. You can’t take any criticism!”

“What about you? You come here, to my house, telling me that I’m either stupid or blind! What did you expect?” Steve snaps.

Billy gets up, grabs his things, and pushes them in his backpack. Fuck Harrington! Billy doesn’t have to help him! He doesn’t owe him anything! It’s not his fault if his sight is shitty!

Only… maybe it is.

Only… Steve actually tried to help Max.

Only… Billy is not the dickhead he pretends to be.

“I could… I could come with you.” He suggests, keeping his back to Harrington, his hand on the handle of the door.

“And what? Hold my hand like a fucking child?” Steve snarls, throwing what’s left on the desk to the ground.

Billy dares to turn, this time it’s Steve who has his back turned. “If that’s what you need.” Billy steps forward, not daring to touch the other boy but wanting to let him know that he is there, that he is listening “Where is your father?”

“Russia? China? Don’t remember. He must have written it on the calendar, I don’t really check anymore.” Steve replies and Billy sighs. He never really understood how lonely Steve must feel now that his friends have turned their back on him and even his girlfriend left him.

“Was she worth it?” Billy asks, and Steve’s shoulders stiffen “Was she worth losing your privileges? And your friends?”

“If I lost my friend it is not her fault. She is… She was… well, she was everything I wanted, the only problem was that I wasn’t enough for her.” Steve says in a self-deprecating tone. “It’s the story of my life. I’m not bad, but I’m never enough, no matter how hard I try. Even my father thinks that I’m not enough and he should know, right? He is my father.”

Billy gets closer to Steve and forces him to turn toward him, “Listen to me. You are the only one who knows your worth, ok? Not Wheeler, not your father, not those stupid boys at school! And if you keep repeating to yourself that you are not enough, you’ll end up believing that! So look me in the eye and tell me something good about you.”

Steve tries to free himself from Billy’s grip “What the fuck? I don’t do this stupid shit. If I needed a therapist…”

“Look me in the eye and tell me something good about yourself.” That’s a game Billy’s mother made with him every time Neil belittled him, and it worked every single time.

“I… I…”

“One thing, I know you can do it.”

“I’m… I’m brave.”

Billy smiles “Yes, you are. Good job, Harrington.” He tells him, patting his back, ready to leave.

“Hey…” Steve calls him, finally getting up from the chair. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I was going to order pizza and watch a movie.”

Billy stops, wondering if Neil would get mad at him “Can I call home? I’m not sure if Susan already cooked.”

“Sure. The phone is in the living room.”

Billy and Steve get downstairs and Billy calls home, it’s Susan who answers and tells him that Neil is not home yet but that he can stay out for dinner, he just has to be home by ten. 

They order pizza and watch a movie and for Billy it is the first time ever. He never invited anyone to his place and he didn’t get invited much, always too unpredictable to be invited to someone’s home. Maybe that’s why he and Steve are perfect; Steve feels like he is not enough, and Billy feels that he is too much.

“Will you book a visit to the eye doctor? I’ll drive you.” Billy asks while they are watching an action movie.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either, so Billy nods and goes back home. As soon as he enters his father calls him, asking him where he was, and when he tells him that he was at Harrington’s house his father seems really pleased. “Those rich boys are always stupid, aren’t they? But my boy is so clever that he is the one who is going to help that stupid kid. You’ll do great things, I know, you are just like me.”

Every time that Neil says that they are similar Billy feels some disgust about himself. He doesn't want to be like Neil, and even if he knows that his outbursts are so similar to the one his father has, he is trying his best not to become like him. Waking up one day and seeing Neil Hargrove in the mirror is Billy’s greatest fear. Not being beaten to death by his father, not getting married to a woman he will never love because he likes boys, not being trapped in a life he knows he will hate every single day. The only thing that terrifies him, the only ones he prays from every night, kneeling on the side of his bed, folded hands and eyes closed, is not becoming like his father. 

He always lived a life where he was always ready to fight for dominance and he is so tired of being alert at all times.

Max is sitting next to Susan, watching a television show together, “Steve’s house is so cool, right? Did you see the heated swimming pool?”

“We studied, I wasn’t there to have fun.”

“I know…” Max snorts “I just thought that maybe… but you are right. You are no fun!” She rebukes, finally leaving him alone.

Billy’s room is full of music posters, he has a big stereo and a vanity made with plastic crates where his few precious belongings rest: a strong male perfume, the same brand his mother bought him years ago, and the golden necklace he received as a gift for his christening.

He stares at himself in the mirror, somehow he feels a little bit less angry and skittish, is it possible that spending time with Harrington might really be beneficial for both of them?

[madwomansapologist]

━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 1 - welcome to westview!

masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist |  AO3

series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Agnes woke up before the alarm, unsure if she even slept last night.

Standing in front of the bedside table, surrounded by shadows and whispers of familiar voices, cold water soaked her feet. It rained at midnight. She remembers it now. Soon Agnes will forget about it, but for now she remembers.

The analog glitched, its numbers changing again. Agnes tried to blink. It never works. Not before the right time. Rubbing bellow her sore eyes, Agnes felt the trace of tears. It wasn’t raining, a familiar voice whispered on her ears. If only she knew whom it belongs to. My tears flooded this cursed place.

Something trembled inside her mind. Hatred. Agnes didn’t knew she could name her feelings. Hatred, hatred, hatred. That made her laugh, but then the clock changed again. Time to wake up. The rebellion was gone just as quickly as it came.

She made her bed, without noticing that the pillowcase was left backwards. Agnes opened the curtains. It had stopped raining already. Something told her to dry the floor. It was an order, and she obeyed. What else could she do?

The kitchen was next on her assorted routine. Agnes made coffee, without any sweetener, althought she prefers tea. She drank it all in one gulp. It burned her tongue and throat.

She stared at the knifes on the counter top. It was impossible to not wonder. To not imagine a different path. An exit door. If only she were allowed to get near them. If only Agnes could grab one of them and just…

Agnes took her keys and stood before the main door. She smiled widely. As she walked outside, her hands waived automatically to her neighboors.

An empty puppet, something whispered in her ears. You lived far too long. Agnes agreed.

― Good morning, hot suff! ― Agnes purred, opening the fence. ― A good day to be good, am I right?

Sarah Proctor bumped her head against the car. It was too early for someone to be that noisy. She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her groceries out of the car, ignoring Agnes’ presence.

― Just drop the act ― Sarah murmured to herself.

Agnes passed by her, continuing her daily walk through town. After wandering around the center, her path ended at an isolated grove. She sat on a bench still damp from last night rain and gazed at the sky.

After an hour the watch on her hand bipped, allowing Agnes to go back home. Later that day, the clock on her kitchen’s wall gave her permission to eat. Another on the living room made her turn on the TV. Then off. One informed her of when to go to bed.

That morning, when the clock woke her up, Agnes threw it against the wall. It ricocheted, the metal colliding against the bricks, and slid under her bed. It kept on echoing inside her head.

When Agnes got out of bed, it stopped.

Agnes ate eggs with no salt and drank old, icy coffee.

― I am happy ― Agnes smiled, glaring at herself through a mirror on the kitchen’s wall. Lips ever so enchanting. Her cheeks burned. And so did her eyes. ― Don’t look at the knifes. You are happy.

Forced to walk out of that place ― she can’t call it home, no magic or spell can make Agnes call it home ―, Agnes felt the cold tears against her skin. More of a drizzle than a tempest, but uncomfortable still. Without an umbrella or warm clothes, Agnes continued her day.

Part of her wanted to know what month it was. It’s raining more often. Which season are they on? The other part knew that time meant little now. It lost its meaning when she stopped trying. She can’t remember how long ago that was.

She can’t remember most things now.

Gazing at the sky, all she could see were gray clouds. They moved slowly, the air changing their shapes as it continues to rain. Then, something passed right throught it. An blue line crossing the sky, leaving an trail of smoke behind. Dozens upon dozens of them fell from the sky, all ending the gray hanging over Westview.

Meteor rain.

It burned so brightly. The fire catching as they passed right throught the atmosphere seemed rosy from where Agnes stood, watching intensively the espectacle. The rain ceased, the clouds dissolving so the blue sky was visible.

It is beautiful. Agnes laughed. The world really is.

Agnes watched as they dissapeared in the sky. All meteors burned until they were barely tiny rocks. Once so powerfull, now reduced to nothing out of Earth’s nature. Except by one. It was bigger than the others, and it glistened red. It continued falling, crossing the sky with ease, as if its fate was to be a constant presence.

Her laugh ceased when Agnes realized it was too close.

Unable to move away, to say anything, Agnes was the witness of its destruction. It crashed into the trees of the grove, tearing everything on its way down. The wood turned into dust, the grass disappeared, the rainwater boiled. An endless moment of pure despair.

It was so beautiful.

A circle of fog expanded throught the grove with its impact. It covered everything there. Agnes coughed, trying to protect her face from the hot air.

Agnes tried to find her way towards the meteor. Ignoring the destruction, she focused on a pearly glow deep into the grove. Outlined by the trees, it glistened. Agnes just wanted to see it closer.

It has been so long since she last wanted something.

The pearly glow started to fade, and a woman’s silhouette appeared in the middle of it. It looked like she was walking on fire, then it suddenly was the opposite. She was brighter than anything else. The only thing shining in this whole world.

And she looked at Agnes, eyes burning in a white liquid light. A sign of strength. Of power and potential. Agnes was unaware that her own shined purple, overflowing with her magic.

The woman fell unconsious on the floor, leaving Agnes to figure out how to take her home.

 ― Welcome to Westview ― Agnes murmured to herself. ― Home is where you make it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The universe was fated to end in harmony.

All worlds crumbled together. Suns imploded in waves, disturbing the planets orbiting around it. Galaxies crashed against one another, satelites imploding and changing comets’ paths.

Colors that were once infinite, sounds that were once the only unavoidable event, all faded.

Nothing remains. No darkness, no vacuum, no space to be rebuilt. Nothing except them, ready to go and never look back. The job was finished. They turned out the lights, cleaned the mess. Now it’s time to leave and lock the door behind them.

― I can start it over ― you declared. ― Get it right this time. Do it right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ceiling was molding. It was the first thing you’ve noticed. Not only was it visibly molding but you could smell it too. Those facts came accompanied by a doubt: who’s ceiling was that?

― Morning, beautiful ― a energetic voice startled you.

You moved your neck, now seeing the woman standing at the other side of the room. As you sat on the bed, back against the icy wall, your whole body throbbed.

― You’ve slept for quite sometime now ― she pointed out. A voice so full with energy, and yet her eyes were sore. She looked exhausted. ― Do you remember anything that happened?

You tried to think of what you did last. Of where you were. Nothing came to your mind. You are here now. There is no before. There is just this room, that tired woman and doubts you don’t have a way to answer.

― Who are you? ― You rubbed your face, trying to get your mind to work. Your heart vibrate inside your chest. ― What is happening?

Agnes saw that same light pooring through your eyes again. That pearly glow defying the rules of gravity. Little rays of energy came out of your fingers, and their intensity made the room vibrate.

Your magic was untamed.

Tempting.

― I know as much as you do ― Agnes sat down beside you. She reach out for you, stroking your back slowly. As if you were a beast chosing between attacking or running away. ― Breath in, breath out. There is no need for you to panic.

You tried to do as she said. Again and again, you tried to calm yourself. The energy on your eyes disappeared, the power gone, revealing tears about to escape.

Agnes wiped your cheek. The tear glistened, and Agnes saw it for what it was: a crystal. When her thumb brushed against it, the crystal penetrated her skin. She saw it disappearing on her finger, but felt nothing.

Keep her around, that voice told her. This time, it sounded different. Like it came from a different plane of existence, one that suddenly became closer to her own. Agnes recognizes it now. That voice was her own. Don’t let her go.

You did something to her. To Agatha Harkness. Not Agnes, not the noisy neighboor, not an middle age lady with something flirtatious to say. She is Agatha Harkness. You shattered something, and Agatha needs you to fully break it.

― There is something about you ― still, the words were pronounced by Agnes. That tooth-aching sweet tone, so fake and unhuman. ― Something impressive about you. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

― Used to?

Agnes opened her mouth, but the words she wanted didn’t made out of it. Agatha could think, but Agnes is the one that can act. And Agnes isn’t allowed to do as it pleases her.

― It’s fine ― you saw right throught her. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. You felt it in your bones. ― If you can’t talk about it.

Can’t. Not don’t want. You said can’t.

The clock interrupting her line of thought once more. Time for another walk. Agnes kneeled down, getting it from under the bed. She glared at it, broken in pieces and still ticking.

That bitch can’t be simple, can she?

Agnes’ threw it out of the window.

― It’s that annoying?

― Honey, you don’t even know.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The leaves levitated, dancing on the sky. From the questroom on the second floor you couldn’t see the ground. For you, the leaves were flying etternaly. A matter of perspective.

Your back burned. You were being watched. Turning around, you expect to see Agnes. The woman you meet a day prior. That funny, tired, noisy woman who took care of you when you needed it the most. Instead, by the open door of your room, tiny black eyes glared at you.

You kneeled down and waited for it to get closer. When it did, you stroked its ears. So soft against your palm, malleable and warm. A rabbit. You remember. That tiny animal is called a rabbit.

― Let’s buy something different for dinner ― Agnes entered the room, cleaning her hands with a towel. You smelled raw meat. And you don’t know how, but you knew she would rather starve than to eat that again. ― Put on some clothes.

You continued to scratch the rabbit’s ear.

― I’m already using clothes.

― You’re using a nightgown.

― And? ― It was a honest question. Agnes could tell. ― Is it wrong to wear that?

That naivety intrigues Agnes. She saw it on Wanda before. That need to pretend the world is somewhere simple than it is by turning yourself into someone easier to be. Something happened to you. Something that you rather forget than face.

No honest questions or sweet smiles will make Agnes forget you came with the meteors. That you smelled like magic and potential. You’re strong. Strong enough to recover from whatever stole your memories. All you need is time. Agnes will give you that.

And when you’re to pay for your debt, Agnes will chose what to take from you.

― He likes you ― Agnes said. She opened the wardrobe, looking for something you could use outside. ― Señor Scratchy, I mean. That’s no very common.

― I like him too ― you yawn. ― You could feel it, right Señor Scratchy?

Cute.

Agnes put some clothes on the bed and walked from the room, giving you time to change. After long enough for Agnes to get impatient, you appeared on the kitchen. In front of the main door, Agnes grabbed the keys.

― Do you remember anything else now? ― She unlooked the door, trying to look like she wasn’t giving to much thought to the subject.

It wasn’t the first time Agnes asked you that, but it was the first time you had something to say.

― Yes, I do!

― Oh ― Agnes smiled. ― And what is it?

― Señor Scratchy is a rabbit!

Agnes opened the main door, nodding to herself. That was on her, she admits it. She better lower her expectations. Althought, it is curious you know what a rabbit is. She wonders if maybe you hit your head after the meteor crashed. Perhaps it’s a medical case, not a magic one.

But her intuition says the contrary, and Agnes trusts it enough.

― Of course, sweetheart ― she murmured. ― A rabbit.

You weren’t paying attention on her. Wandering out of the house, you just observed the world. It was the first time you got out of the house. So many lights and colors, they all blend together to create new things. From that tiny window, all you could see were trees and the skies. But this…

― Wow ― you laughed. ― Oh my.

Agnes held you by the shoulders to make you walk towards the center. Instead of behaving, you just walked whenever you wanted to. A few times Agnes had to stop you from crashing against a car.

― Can you stop moving? ― Agnes hissed, following you. ― We were supposed to head…

― Morning, Agnes! ― A neighbor she don’t remember the name waived at her.

― Morning, sweetie!

When she turned back, you were gone. Agnes cursed, running towards you on the other side of the street. Agnes crossed the park’s entrance, but stopped trying to reach for you when she noticed what this place was. A graveyard.

She just wanted to buy pork.

Agnes made to where you stood, glaring at an old grave. It was molding, and part of it fell down. In silence, she observed it. The birthday was unkown. The death was a few years prior. What happened to them?

― What are those? ― You looked at her. ― That’s a weird place.

― They bury dead people here ― Agnes explained to you. ― And write some things about them on stone. Birthday, date of death, name, maybe a pretty sentence.

― Why?

― I’m not really sure ― she admitted. ― I guess it makes the living feel better.

― I don’t have a name ― was your response. You pointed at the grave, but Agnes kept on looking at you. ― I want that one.

Agnes laughed. A real, belly aching laugh.

― Stealing someone’s name, huh? ― Agnes nodded to herself. ― I don’t think they will miss it.

As you explored the cemetery, Agnes watched over you, testing your new name on her tongue.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr

[sara-wishes]

Sk8er boi. - 여상

Skater!Yeosang x Female!Reader

genre: fluff, enemy to lovers.

warnings: rude y/n (only at the beginning), poor skater vocabulary, mention of scratches, a swear word (?), sorry not sorry but studying biology sucks, angelic yeo.

word count: 3.3k

now listening to: Sk8er boi by Avril Lavigne

a/n: happy birthday to yeosang! if you enjoy this work, pls consider reblogging :D also, i added everyone who interacted with my previous post for this fanfic to the taglist, since I changed the requirement after posting it.

The headache was already present in your system.

You couldn’t tell if it was from having locked yourself up five hours ago to study non-stop, or from the noisy and irritating rolling of skate wheels.

The culprit to blame for the incessant clattering, none other than Yeosang.

The boy next door, who had accompanied you all throughout your life, as your neighbor and as your classmate. Not that you knew much about him or you shared an irreplaceable bond with him. You were acquaintances, who had talked to each other from time to time. And perhaps, just perhaps, you had developed the smallest, tiniest and insignificant crush over the greek sculptured boy. 

Nonetheless, if someone were to ask you about your opinion on him, of course, you would retort that he is to you nothing more, but an endless nuisance, and that you considered him to be the ultimate archenemy of all your grades.

Although he indeed was ‘the boy next door’ for you, he liked being referred to as the ‘skater boy next door’. Who was too passionate about skating, to ever stop trying new tricks, right under where your window happened to be located. The only parchment of the street he had deemed good enough to practice on. Unfortunately, summer was nearing your town, and the luxury of keeping the window shut was not one which you could afford indulging in.

So, you were stuck with the bothersome rumbling of plastic over concrete.

The hours of studying were finally getting to you. As the diligent student you were, you had been bottled up inside your room. Reading, memorizing and hammering into your brain your biology sessions, hating every single moment of the five hours in a row, in which you had been torturing yourself. The fog in your mind didn’t make it any easier to keep going. 

You were officially burned out. No other time like before your finals to reach your human limitations. But still, even if you were incredibly bothered by this fact, you tried to blankly read and re-read the now familiar pages of the book, making this your last, desperate attempt.

Regardless of your tries, you were slowly getting more irritated at your inability, after 20 minutes of useless staring at a filled notebook, letting your nerves get the better of you. The annoying hobby of the previously ignored boy, finally affecting you too negatively to restrain yourself. Blinded by your powerless state, you were even convinced he was doing it just to spite you and you were putting an end to at least one of your impediments.

While you took your time to angrily load with irritation each of your moments as you got up from your seat at your desk, you pondered that, maybe, you shouldn’t be letting your pent up anger out on the skater boy, but you were too tired and done for to take a moment to think things through.

Leaning your head out the window, and waiting for your vision to adjust to the sunlight, your target became distinguishable. The blonde, unaware of your eyes on him, still practicing his tricks.

“Hey, you! Could you stop for three minutes? People are trying to study here!”

The innocent boy looked up at you with big maltese eyes, startled at the unexpected voice coming from above his position. ‘Fantastic.’ Now you didn’t only feel miserable with yourself, but guilty at having called out the boy’s harmless doings. Perhaps this enmity was one sided after all.

“Sorry, am I making too much noise?” He shyly and politely asked you.

“Well… Yeah.” You honestly felt like a Karen, complaining to a manager over the incorrect order in a restaurant.

“Oh, sorry…, again. Y/N right?” His voice got smaller at your glare and his form shrunk at your tone, making you feel as if you were kicking a puppy. At this thought, you scoffed out loud, making the boy tilt his head naively. You really were the villain in this story, huh?

Coming back from your cloud, after self deprecating just a little more for the day, you nodded at his question, actually surprised at his knowledge of your name. 

Without a doubt the most beautiful guy in the world remembered your name, the name of the most basic and common girl to ever grace the earth. You sure felt kind of special at this. A silly thought and sentiment, but you had had enough pestering all day to not take the indirect compliment.

You really were regretting having ever complained to him. And even though you couldn't even blame the blonde anymore as hard as you tried, he continued explaining himself. 

“I figured you would stop studying at some point of the day.” His deep timbre conjured his sentence, with no malice or offensive intent.

Oh. Oh. So you were the stupid girl who was feeling remorse over your actions, and he was getting cocky? The anger that had slightly subsided, arose once again even stronger than before. At least that was how you were taking that incredibly blunt statement. The patience left in you taunted by it, made you want to go down to the alley and break that damned skate of his.

“Well Yeosang, I figured you would stop skating at some point of the day.” You’d give him back a taste of his own medicine. 

At that, the blonde shut up and stood still, just blankly staring at you. And even if you thought he had never looked as handsome before, not his visuals nor his damaged puppy face would make you forget how pissed you were at him right now. Tired of his silence, you decided to finish the job.

“Are you gonna’ stop or do I have to go down there and break that thing in half?” You bitterly made him snap out of it, using your head to gesture to the bored skate that he carried in his hand.

“Hey, h-hey, I’ll stop, don’t be like that.” He rushedly assured you.

“Thought so.”

With that, you retreated back into your room. Back to studying, to pretending not to be worn out from all the pressure, time and dedication you put into it.

At least, that was your plan. As soon as you tried to duck back indoors, you heard Yeosang’s angelic voice call you out (was every single thing about him just angelic and otherworldly?).

“Wait! Wait! Please.”

Annoyed out of your skin and huffing, you decided to indulge the skater just this time.

“What.” More than as a question, it came out as a statement, only adding to the furious rudeness.

“Why don’t you come down?” He timidly suggested.

“So you can make me lose more of my time? No, thank you.” Was your retort, sarcasm dripping from every word. He must be losing it if he thought he had a shot at convincing you.

“No.. It’s just- you can't spend all day cooped up inside. It isn’t healthy. Besides, I’m sure you’re burned out from all that hard work. A bit of fresh air and skating can do you no wrong.”

Taken aback from his honest and sincere worry, instead of answering back with a witty remark, you let yourself ease a bit into the conversation. You were getting tired from all the tension and anger that were in no way helping your headache. Maybe he did have a shot at convincing you. So you could only think that, maybe, he was more observant than the rest of his friends gave him credit for, and found his realization of your state admirable.

“You noticed.” Answering with a calmer voice, the frown that had adorned your face for the entirety of the word exchange, now gone. However, even at your more relaxed state, he still felt the need to be watchful and careful of his wording, cautious as to not let his previous mistakes repeat.

“Don’t take it the wrong way but, you’re usually so kind with me and my friends. Even if just from passing. It just didn’t seem like you were the one speaking right now.”

Perplexed at his statement, you allowed yourself to drift from the conversation to your own head, leaving the boy hanging. 

He… noticed you? Not only that, but he thought you were kind? You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was the kind one. One of the kindest souls you had encountered. He was the one dealing with a pissed-off neighbor incredibly politely and with the grace of a swan. You were the one who should be praising him and awarding his kindness. 

Yeosang was like a sun, always making sure his friends shined as much as him and no one felt out of place or kept out of the loop. You were not stalking him or anything of the sort, but everyone who knew just a bit about Yeosang, was aware of how far he’d go to make sure his friends and close ones felt appreciated. He was the definition of kindness. So much so, that just with that comment he had managed to lift your spirits quicker than you could’ve ever imagined. Just like the work of magic. 

Remembering you were still in a conversation with the boy in question -who, at your unresponsiveness had begun fiddling with the ends of his board-, you answered his previous question. 

“Okay.”

“O-okay?”

“You notice me being worn out from class, but you can’t tell what I’m talking about? You still are as oblivious as always, Sangie.” Maybe you were being too cruel on the poor clueless boy. Maybe you were taking too many liberties and speaking too casually to the one you only shared the same classroom and apartment block with. Maybe. But you were feeling happier thanks to him, and maybe you were in to have a little fun, after looking at your biology book for about 3 hours straight with a blank mind and no results.

After having decided for the more enjoyable choice, you retreated back into your bedroom. You closed the damned book with a slam, turned off your heated up monitor and without even grabbing your keys, you sprinted down the stairs of your apartment and hopped over the side of the road Yeosang was calmly waiting for you.

“So, what do you suggest?” You expectantly blinked at his form.

Abruptly and out of nowhere, he began chuckling adorably at your sudden enthusiasm and outburst of energy. At this, you couldn’t contain your own smile, not that you were trying to. It was amazing how fast he had been able to lift your mood. Partly to how honest and good-natured his words had been, as insignificant they could seem to any other, they weren't to you. And partly to you taking a moment  to assess how childish and simple-minded your previous attitude at the boy had been.

When he finally took a breath after his fit of adorable chuckles -which made his smile smaller and all the cuter-, he let out his thoughts and the reason as to why he had felt the sudden humor. “You’re eager.”

“Yes! Now teach me how to skate!” Even if your crankiness was gone, your mindset was difficult to get rid of. The stubbornness of getting things right when you dedicate yourself to them and the ‘don’t lose your time’ attitude you always wore on your sleeve, were also present now, when your current fixation was learning how to skate with Yeosang’s guidance.

The sun was setting, but now seemed like the perfect instance to try and successfully ride without scraping your knees. You felt confident, after all, how difficult could rolling on top of a skate be? Maybe after you got the hang of maneuvering around with it, you would even go and try some simple tricks.

Although you felt hesitant at first, since you believed to be skillful enough to manage without it, Yeosang convinced you to let him show you a bit of the theory involving skating. How to position your knees, where to stand on the board, how to turn and push yourself easier…, the basics.

Thanks to Yeosang, you learned all the theory needed (Not much, thanks to god, otherwise you would’ve already passed out from all the ‘studying’.)

“Okay, now you ride it.” Without hesitation, you jumped on the board, avoiding Yeosang’s helping hands to get on top of it. You felt optimistic enough to slide across the street without the boy’s help. It could not be that difficult. 

That’s what you thought at first.

Going on a straight line was the easy part. You forwarded your body with the help of your foot, managing to beeline towards your initial destination for the most part.

When the moment to turn arrived, is when things started to go south. Not only were you unable to properly direct the board to take on the curve, but the momentum of the previous linear movement wasn’t helping either.

The stiffness of the board threw you off balance and made you lose your footing. Before you could even realize what was happening, you were barreling towards the floor.

From your position, facing the other side of the street, you couldn’t see Yeosang, but you heard his gasp as you fell. 

Planting your hands in the ground, you stupidly fell over them, your knees also taking the impact and scraping themselves in the process.

“Y/N!” Yeosang shouted for you, running to your aid.

“Ow…oww…” You whined at the painful scratches. Yeosang skidded across the pavement, not caring about damaging his pants or his own knees. 

“Are you okay?!” He worriedly questioned your state, kneeling to your level. 

“Yeah, yes- I just hurt myself a little. I’m okay.” Brushing off the dust and dirt from your knees, you reassured him you were fine, just a minor wound. Regardless, he took out of his back pocket a box of Peppa Pig bandaids, selecting a few of his liking. Incredulous, you stared at him.

“Are those for me?”

“Yeah, we can’t let it get infected. Who do you prefer, George Pig or Pedro Pony?” Not believing your eyes, this time you were the one to start chuckling. He could be so childish and so mature at the same time. Yeosang was truly a wild ride. But, obviously, you had an evident answer to his question.

“Pedro Pony, of course. He's my hero.” At your confident answer, Yeosang did not hesitate another second and proceeded to take his water bottle -that had been waiting by a corner on the alley-, pouring a good amount of the liquid over your wounds and patting down the excess with a tissue. The Pedro Pony bandaids coming next. After securing them on your skin, he got up and lent you a hand to help you off the ground.

“Thank you. I really thought I got it.” You sheepishly broke the comfortable silence.

“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone. But, I have an idea. Do you trust me?” He looked at you through his lashes, standing just a few centimeters away from you.

For a moment, you pondered. This was the longest amount of time you had talked to him ever before. Sure, you did kind of fancy the boy, but maybe you could take the opportunity to tease him a little. Either way, he had made you feel incredibly comfortable in record time, giving you the opportunity to run away from your duties just when you most needed it. You could honestly say, you trusted him to teach you skating, and a bit more than just that.

“Sure.” When your answer came out as positive, he smiled brightly. Almost blindingly. Possibly the most beautiful smile you had ever witnessed had been his in that exact moment.

The blonde signaled you to hop on the skateboard again, just a little bit over the front. Maybe you should have expected it when he directed you to settle that way, but it came as a surprise when Yeosang climbed on behind you. He began circling his arms around your hip, but the kind male, gently asked for consent before completely embracing you. 

“Can I?”

“Yeah.” Due to your proximity, both your answers came as a mere whisper, only audible for each other. His arms finally settled around your form, instantly warming you, from the electric touch of his fingertips near your belly, to the top of your shoulders, where he leaned his chin to be able to see. Your ears became a vibrant red without you even realizing. 

The boy began pushing you both forward, starting slow, taking the turns you had not been able to before. But when you both had settled into a comfortable position and tempo, he thought he could speed things up.

A bit more harshly, provoking a small rattle on the surface of the skate, he pushed you both with his foot, planting it strongly on the ground. The pace began increasing, the wind making your hair wild, slipping through your locks and caressing your face. The freedom you had been yearning for just minutes before, was now finally yours to enjoy and savor.

“Woohoo!” You couldn’t help yourself. You really needed this and you were going to make the most out of it. Letting out a freeing laugh from the pits of your chest, Yeosang joined you in your joy. Unbeknownst to you, he was immensely euphoric to have been the one to free you from your shackles, taking the glee trapped inside you, letting it resurface.

Even hours after the sun had settled behind the horizon, you two still skated, laughed and talked about everything and anything, building a moment that you both would treasure and hold dear next to your heart. 

Sadly, you had to come down from your cloud at some point, returning to reality. And you could stress no more the liberating hours.

“Yeosang. Thank you so much for this. All of it.” You snapped the boy out of his daydream, the same one you had been engrossed in just moments ago. He slightly raised his left eyebrow at your remark, curious as to what you meant. And smiling due to his antics, you decided against answering his silent question.

“You have nothing to thank me for, everyone needs this from time to time. I am glad I was the one to help you.” When he finally understood the meaning behind your words, he sincerely retorted. But he deduced this was your way of telling, the moment was coming to an end.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He tried to elongate the moment as much as possible, feeling the same way as you did about your parting.

“Yeosang. We live right here. Like, two meters away from this alley. I think I’ll do just fine. But, thank you again, either way.” Smiling at him, you begrudgingly rose from your sitting spot. And waving at him, you made your exit around the corner. “See you around, S8er boi!” You shouted over the other side of the street, unable to see Yeosang’s reaction at that point.

If you had already admitted to yourself that you had a crush on the boy before, you now had confirmed it was much more than that. And perhaps, if someone were to ask about your opinion on him, this time, you would consider telling them Avril Lavigne could try to take away from you this skater boy, but never succeed. 

With this thought in mind and a new perspective of Yeosang in your heart, you were ready to take on more of your studying. But, mayhaps, the universe was against you studying at all today. Your apartment keys missing from your pocket -forgotten on your desk at the prospect of skating with your crush- and a blossoming smile on your lips -ecstatic at the thought of spending more time with the boy of your dreams-.

taglist: @anew-inception, @harmonized-disarray, @imalittlebitlovedrunk, @dea-nimus, @landsharkfandomtrash, @alice0blog, @baizhuu, @bunnyiix, @cookiechristie, @alex-90000, @corpser2002-blog. (names not on bold could not be found).

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Northern Light

Thirty-six hours before Jeff Buckley died, I saw him standing on a quiet Memphis street corner. A sheriff's car had pulled over, and the beige-suited federale stood towering above him. Jeff was my neighbor and friend, so I turned my car around to see if I could extract him from his tangle.

The incident had ended by the time I got there. It began raining. I pulled up next to Jeff. He didn't like strangers stopping him, and he kept his face forward as I drove beside him. He didn't look up until I spoke, then he stormed into the car, furious that the deputy had stopped to ask who he was; Jeff thought the lawman recognized him from his videos. I tried telling him their paths happened to cross at a corner that was known for drug activity, but he wouldn't hear it.

At the corner, instead of turning toward our street to go home--he lived a few doors from us in a rental house--I turned away. An anger I didn't know flared up. He demanded to be let out and opened the door while we were moving. The rain was hard and heavy, a dark rain. He did not want to know that I was only going one block out of the way. To calm him I told him I would take him home directly. F---it, if he wanted to act like a rock star, I'd indulge his fame, don my chauffeur's hat, take his assholiness home, and then do my errand.

If he'd not died, the incident would have meant nothing.

I see my happening onto him right after the cop as proof--if he was seeking proof--that he could not take a walk and be alone. He had owned Manhattan and walked away for a place he could be alone.

He leapt out of my car and was immediatelly soaked. "I'll walk," he said. "It's nice out." It was not nice out. Is that what he had to say to be alone?

Jeff rang our doorbell at six sharp. "Look at this," he told my wife, leading Mr. Clean into the kitchen. He wore a frilly green three-piece thrift-store suit, two-tone black and white shoes, and a wide-brimmed hat tilted forward over his face. I assumed a matching green Cadillac with a fake fur steering wheel was parked out front. He said, "I like to dress for dinner."

He and I drank red wine outside in the pre-summer heat. My four-month-old daughter cooed at him, he cooed back, and they laughed. After dinner he wanted to retrieve a notebook he'd left at the downtown club where he had a weekly gig. "Sure they're open," he said, "live bands seven nights a week." We walked to his house, where he got the keys to his rental car. Before leaving the house, he put on a Dead Kennedys CD and left it at top volume. One the street I could hear every thudding syllable. An Avon lady lived next door to him. I didn't ask questions.

He drove like his verbal riffs: all over the place. The club was, of course, closed. But his outfit was glowing, we were half-lit, and we hit a Beale Street beer hall that had a pool table. He put down two quarters in line for a game and steadily pumped the jukebox.

In Memphis Jeff could play at anonymity: a dangerous, green-suited pool hustler running Beale. The bartender found his Grifters selection too noisy and pulled the plug. Jeff leapt onto the pool table and demanded not only that the machine be turned back on, but that he be given his money back so he could play the song again. A pretty girl recognized him and between pool shots she handed him a menu and asked him for an autograph. He was polite; I think the occasional recognition was enough to sate his ego, but not so much that it interfered with his daily affairs.

My wife and I fed him a couple of times, hung out a bit. Usually his blinds were drawn, and we mostly left him to his work. One evening I stopped by on my way to the neighborhood bar. He talked about his dad that night, also a singer with a clarion voice. Tim Buckley was twenty-eight when he found a packet of powder and, mistaking the heroine for cocaine, laid out a fat line, inhaled, and died. Jeff was eight at the time. He lived with his mother, her husband, and his half brothers, and back then his name was Scott J. Moorhead. Then he'd entered his old man's business, and though he didn't know him (he'd only spent a week with his dad), he was feeling the weight of his father's shadow. Dead at such an early age, Tim Buckley would be forever young. "The only way I can rebel against him," Jeff told me, "is to live."

You don't go swimming in your boots without some kind of intent somewhere. Jeff was thirty when he drowned in the Mississippi River. I don't imagine that his father's specter ever left him, but I do believe life must have refracted through the ghost differently during Jeff's last couple of years. My wife's father died accidentally when she was a child, and she speaks of the mixed feelings she had when she passed her father's age. Survivors' guilt tinged with survivors' triumph: "It didn't happen to me" becomes "it couldn't."

People like me who write about musicians have a relationship with celebrity that is either symbiotic or parasitic, depending on the perspective. Jeff and I had met accidentally, laughed a lot at that first meeting but were never introduced, and I left thinking he was just some new guy in town. It took an effort by me to supress the opportunism presented by his fame and maintain that purity in our friendship. We never discussed doing an interview, though I took notes for one. He had recorded an Alex Chilton song on his first EP; Chilton plays a significant role in my first book, It Came From Memphis, but we never discussed that either. He'd never played his fame card before, and offering to drive him a mile home that day it rained, when I was a block from doing that anyway, made me painfully aware of the shared natures of fan and servant.

Fame is a buoy that raises you up and a weight that brings you down. Jeff Buckley was beautiful to behold, a blast to be around, a singular talent. He seemed strong enough for fame. His core bubbled with energy, an excitement that sometimes overpowered him. Talking about his dad in the bar, he bent to his drink and gnawed on the glass with his teeth. Though he could wrangle his power, like when he made music, he seemed most at ease letting it pour fourth: A rush of comic routines. Impulsive actions. His wardrobe. Swimming in the river.

The day after the rain, I saw a furniture rental truck unloading beds at his house; Jeff's band was arriving. When a British magazine editor called the next morning asking me to confirm that Jeff had died of a drug overdose, I reamed the guy. "Let him work!" I said. "He wants to be alone." The editor assured me that this news was based in fact, that someone from Microsoft News had--but I cut him off and told him to leave the guy alone. Ten minutes later a friend at Jeff's label called to say that reports were that Jeff had drowned, and what did I know about it? Geez, I thought, can't anyone let this guy work?

My wife said if I'd been called about another of my neighbors having an accident, I'd have run to their door and knocked, made sure everything was okay. I did walk down to Jeff's house and stood in front of it dumbly--his house looked like his house--but I wasn't about to disturb him with rumors of himself. An hour later, back home, I glanced out front and an image of his bandmates--their stooped backs, the shade of the magnolia tree, red Converse high-tops on asphalt--seared into my brain. Death. I'd never seen them before, but their dyed hair and disheveled look announced them as Jeff's guests, and their dazed walk and stupefied manner instantly confirmed the worst. It rained for four days after that.

The first daylight hours passed as we waited for the phone to ring--for Jeff to tell us that the current had swept him away and deposited him, tired and delirious, in a foresaken corner of a cotton field, and he walked for hours between rows to dirt paths to gravel and was finally calling from a gas station near a stupid Tunica casino, could someone please come pick him up right away and bring dry clothes, he was miserable. But that call didn't come. His mother came, his girlfriend, an aunt, a lawyer, and some record company people.

When Jeff Buckley immersed himself in that inlet of the the Mississippi River, he swam out on his back, looking at the stars, singing a Led Zeppelin song. A tugboat passed and left a wake. He swallowed water. The shadow was heavy. The refraction was blinding. His boots were full.

It's said about the blues singer Robert Johnson that he lived a compartmentalized life. That to some he was Robert Dusty, to others Robert Spencer, and that his personae were as varied and as independent as the people to whom each was known. Jeff had a life in New York I knew little about, and his family was in California. But his absence broke down those partitions, and we survivors clung to each other in his house, surrounded by his belongings, waiting for him.

The undercurrents in Memphis swelled in Jeff's absence. This city reveres obscurity, is hostile toward success. Beneath the reverence for the celebrated--here or anywhere--is a mean-spirited envy, a rooting for the lions over the gladiator. The tide of gossip rose: He staged his death for publicity. Or for solitude. He was on drugs. Suicide. Black magic.

On the fourth day, before his body floated up, his mother called his friends to his house for a wake. His beautiful photograph was propped on the table, along with a candle and maybe a flower. She wanted to celebrate her son's life and she made a toast, reminding me how little we can each know of even the ones we call friends. She raised her glass, and we raised ours. Her words startled me: "To Scotty."

His singing was magisterial, like a pipe organ, natural like the northern lights. Jeff's voice made me want to build shrines--though now I see Jeff Buckley was the shrine to his voice. His sudden end has seeped into my memories of his passion and vitality, and I can't seperate the purity of his tone from the tragedy of his fate.

My child is drifting off to sleep in my arms. She has learned to crawl, is beginning to understand spacial relations. The puzzle that is everything she sees is beginning to have pieces, and the pieces are beginning to fit. Her dreams have become more lifelike, and as she is momentarily disturbed into consciousness, her eyes open. She can't tell the worlds apart, and since the dream feels so much nicer than the coldness of reality, she doesn't fight the return. She drifts off.

Source: Robert Gordon

[aylish91]

Can you do bitty sans underfell x reader if you don't want too then can you do a shark horror x reader??if you don't want to do either that's fine too

Oh boy! We getting the bitties up in here! I've got a more traditional underfell edgy bitty coming for ya. And how dare you get me dreaming of our horror shark boy. I love my horror boys, no matter the au! Now I might have to drag him in here at some point too. haha

~ ~ ~

I'd Do It All For You

It was the perfect afternoon for a nap on the couch. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and it was finally a quiet day over at the neighbors. It was nice. Peaceful even. One of the other neighbors must have gotten tired of the noise and called in a complaint. Red would be thrilled when you both eventually got up.

It was a shame heavy angry pounding on your front door had to go and ruin it.

Groaning, you tried to ignore it all, but the pounding only got harder and louder. Unfortunately, this also spurred movement against your shoulder, indicating your tiny companion was now awake too.

Great.

“Ya gonna answer that, or just let em bust down our door?” You huffed but didn’t move. By the scoff, you could tell he wasn’t impressed. “Ya c’n at least tell em ta fuck off.”

Another groan, louder and more drawn out this time, but you did manage to sit up. Red, your little shark-toothed angry bitty, clung to your shirt so he could sit on your shoulder, tugging harshly on your ear when you didn’t move to answer right away.

You stood up.

Guess it was time to face the chaos.

The pounding didn’t stop until you partly opened the door. Unsurprisingly, it was the noisy neighbor you had thought calmed for the day. She was a gangly woman with tanned leathery skin and sunspots, hair unkept and short. She occupied the townhome connected to your left and usually held a nasty snarling dog in her arms. It was more of a surprise the creature wasn’t with her than the fact she was trying to break your door.

You took a breath and braced for the worst. “Can we help you, Karen?”

“Don’t you patronize me with your false sense of courtesy! This is all your fault! You and your little Gremlin sabotaged my yard and let my dog out! How dare you, HOW DARE YOU!” She was beyond livid for someone who had been so quiet earlier. You attempted to calm her down, but she continued to scream over you. “No! I will not calm down! You broke into my home, opened Remmie’s door, and unblocked that hole in my fence! Now he’s gone! I can’t find him anywhere and it’s all you and that little demon’s fault!”

It took you over thirty minutes to get her to leave, Red only hindering the process by cackling the entire time while calling out jabs. You did your best to try and inform her that no, you did not climb the fence and break into her home, you did not unblock one of the many holes under her fence, and that Red had been with you all day. She, of course, didn’t listen to anything you said and continued to yell at the pair of you, at one point physically trying to grab Red from your shoulder. She was lucky you had more self-control than her because you came close to punching her in the face for that.

It wasn’t until another neighbor mentioned that they saw Remmie a couple blocks away chasing and snapping at children, that she stormed away. After she was gone, it was admitted that animal control had been called and the incident had been over an hour ago.

Red was ecstatic, you not so much. You prayed the interaction would be the last you had from her about it, but you weren’t holding out hope. Closing the door and taking a deep slow breath, you turned an accusatory look towards your still giggling bitty.

“What, did you do, and when?”

His grin was downright mischievous. “Me? Ya wound me.”

“Reeeed.”

“Ah, come on! That rat-faced terror was a menace ta society. I did the neighborhood a favor! The thing tried ta eat me at least ten times. In our own yard!”

You ran a hand over your face. “Did you really break into that woman’s house? Just to let the dog out?”

He cackled, shortcutting onto the back of the couch and looking back at you. “Course not. I also unplugged her radio, microwave, and tv, and hid the remote. Would have unplugged the fridge too if it weren’t so close ta the wall.”

“Red!”

“Don’t even get me started on the surprise I left in the oven.”

“Red!!!”

“What! S’ not like I broke anythin! Believe me, I was tempted.”

You sat on the couch and ran your hands over your face. “You can’t just—that was extremely dangerous! What would you have done if you had been caught? Or attacked? I didn’t even know you had gone over there! When, did you go over there?”

He looked away, suddenly more serious. “Wouldn’t ‘ave happened. Went after ya went ta bed last night. Besides, that witch got what she deserved after what she said to ya. Don’t think I didn’t hear it, or you crying about it in the other room either. Ya deserve better than that.”

Your heart tightened. While you wish he hadn’t done something so dangerous, it did feel nice knowing that he did it for your sake. Even if he didn’t come right out and say it.

You sighed, reaching up to gently pick him up off the back of the couch. He startled but otherwise let you pull him to your chest with a smooch. There was only a small grumble and wipe this time.

“You are a gremlin, you know that? You’re lucky I love you so much. Please don’t do that ever again, however gratifying it was to find out she experienced some karma.”

‘Begrudgingly’, he snuggled closer. “Damn straight she did.”

You chuckled, giving his head a light scratch. “So… What exactly did you put in her oven?”

Judging by the deep maniacal giggling, it was something good.

…

You sure loved your little gremlin of a bitty.

[kairiscorner]

HI PO OMG MAY NAISIP PO AKO

db like Hobie canonically CANNOT sing to save his life, so like po what if he tries to harana filipino!reader sa evening kung kelan po matutulog sya sa evening HAHAHAHA

Have a great day po!!!! 🫶🫶

-🫶 anon

HI PO ANON <333 omg, i can see his voice (iykyk) THAT'S SO CUTE OF HIM THOUGH LIKE WHAT (i am obsessed with this hobie gif)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

finally, at the dead of night, you were able to catch a moment of peace and quiet. you were busy the whole day, running errands, doing chores, and restlessly working; you deserved this night of long overdue slumber you had to make up for missing.

as your head hit the pillow and as you got comfy underneath your sheets, smiling slightly to yourself as you felt the bed practically consume your figure with how much more amplified the softness of it was, after not having rested on it for a long while. you were too excited to dream, already dreaming to yourself while barely awake what kinds of dreams you hoped to see, hoped to experience, hoped to...

a loud guitar strum was heard in the distance, and the recoil of feedback rang throughout the entire neighborhood.

"pakshet," you muttered to yourself as your bed suddenly felt like a slab of concrete; your pillow felt as hard as a boulder, and as hot as flaming coals for barbecue--it was him again. that loud, noisy neighbor you had that consistently never failed to bother you. he was an... interesting fellow, he looked very unique, very eye-catching. dare you say, he was attractive.

but with this sense of attraction came a sense of sheer annoyance; though he was a stranger to you for the longest time, it was that every time you two interacted, he always, always knew how exactly to piss you off. whether he meant to or not, he always got on your nerves somehow. he'd never stop hanging around you, tease you a little, rile you up to get you flustered and even grumpier as he smirked down at you; and you hating how well his provocation worked, every time.

but this was the last straw, blatantly playing his music loud and clear--in the night, when everyone was sleeping--good grief, you'd never catch a break with him. "hello, testing, testing..." you heard his smooth, deep voice reverberate through a microphone. "tangina, may microphone pa siya?" you muttered to yourself as you wrapped yourself further into the sheets, covering your face with your pillow, hoping the layers would block all his noise.

after a few screeches from the microphone feedback, he finally spoke again. "gd'evening, hoping this song sends a shiver up your spine–and maybe... get you to consider letting me make you mine." his voice sounded so confident, yet so calm--as if he was certain he'd win whoever he meant to call out for that easily.

you rolled over on your side towards the direction where his voice was coming from outside out of curiosity, feeling pity for the poor soul who'd surely be dying of embarrassment having a public disturbance offered in their na-- "this one's for you, kay cute mo."

oh. fuck.

you knew that phrase all too well, that was what he quipped whenever you'd pout, get flustered, annoyed, or pissed off at him. it was meant for you. "anong kasalanang ginawa ko para mangyari 'to sa'kin..." you muttered as you soon prayed for yourself that hobie would give up and leave, spare you both from a horrible earful from the cops that you were sure were coming as you knew your neighbors would be dialing them up right now, or even from earlier when they heard his first guitar strum.

hobie strummed away at his electric guitar, and as soon as you heard the opening beats and the rhythm picked up, you couldn't believe your ears--it was a metal version of "pasilyo" by sunkissed lola. you feel like you could crawl out of your skin right here and now, the song that was stuck in your mind for the past few days was now being sung to you out your window, down by the street, by a guy who annoyed and teased you to death whenever he got the chance to.

and the worst part was, his voice... oh goodness, he'd put all your terrible scores at karaoke by the timezone to shame. you were embarrassed already he was causing a public disturbance for you, but to call it singing was blatantly insulting to both of you. he hardly mispronounced the lyrics--which, you were thoroughly impressed by--but his actual singing... it hurt you in more ways than you could imagine. and he kept it going. all the way from 10 PM to 2 AM.

"tumahimik ka nga! go the fuck home, brown!" you shouted at him from your window after you kicked the covers up and grumbled. he chuckled to himself when you finally called him by his name, which echoed throughout the whole neighborhood. you hated how a warmth settled within you when he chuckled like that, it made you wanna scream at him even more. "what do you think of that, shorty?" he asked with an endearing tone as you grumbled. "i'm calling the police on you!" you shouted from your window as you turned your back to him.

"ihaharana parin kita bawat gabi, hanggang sa masasagot mo ang aking tanong--maari bang maging tayo?"

you loathed how you kept listening to and feeling such a fuzzy warmth envelop you as he spoke, you loathed how you couldn't bring yourself to complain about him, and you loathed how desperately you wanted to give him your answer.

"ina neto..." you muttered as a furious flustered feeling creeped up in your bones and made you want to scream--a romantically excited scream that gave away only one thing: how you really felt for him.

tags !! @thecoolerdor @binibinileonara @q2ie

[iguessitsjustme]

I Saw You In My Dream Ep 7 Thoughts

I have CONCERNS about being caught up now. How am I supposed to wait week to week? It almost killed me waiting less than 12  hours for this episode. But I will persevere. I got my pizza. I got my positive attitude (I do not). I am going to need my knee to stop hurting. This is getting off track…under the cut:

WHY ARE WE SEEING THE GUITAR SONG AGAIN. WE HAD THT E PREVIOUSLY ON. I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS AGAIN SDKGDKJGHKDJFHG SAVE ME PLEASE.

*eats pizza aggressively*

ISTS A FUCKING DREAM IF I HAVE TO SEE THAT GUITAR ONE MORE DAMN TIME AAAHHHDFKGHDFLKJH

I’m gonna go crawl into a hole until the guitar part is over. Why was I put onto this earth to suffer this way. If god were merciful, I would be free.

I am in love with Ai. Thank you for stopping that. I live to see another day. I can continue on it turns out.

I really like that Ai didn’t let Waan and Yo decide for him that he’d kayak with Waan. What he really wanted was to kayak with Yu, but he took Ing. Who is his friend, who knows what he’s dealing with, and who expects nothing from him. And Ing also probably needs some time with Ai too honestly. They each need friend time. Away from their crushes. Away from people crushing on them. Just pure, platonic friendship. 

There are moments that I don’t like this soundtrack but for the most part I love it. Genuinely, I think it is incredible with some minor exceptions. But my god. This scene with Yu massaging Ai’s hurt ankle? This song is making me FEEL things. Bless.

Yo. My god. Ai just gave Waan the extra food he asked for. He didn’t…make eyes at him. There’s helping your friend and then there’s what you’re doing. Ai is also your friend and you aren’t reading his body language that you should be well aware of since you’ve known him so long. He’s clearly not entirely comfortable around Waan right now and comments like that actually do more to hurt Waan’s chances than help them. Also. I know Yu is not being particularly forthcoming about his feelings for Ai but they are also so obvious that even Ai is picking up on them albeit questioningly. You used to tease those two like you knew something they didn’t and now you’re pushing someone else, who Ai is not entirely comfortable with, onto Ai. You keep having him as a surprise guest like it’s a favor to Ai but it’s not. He is your friend, not Ai’s. Not really. And inviting Waan as a surprise guest is always a favor to Waan not Ai. I don’t know why that ticked me off as much as it did but it’s just like…c’mon dude. Read the room. Maybe ask Ai how he feels about all of this before making decisions for him about it.

Noisy neighbors go AWAY.

GIVING THE CHICKEN. SHARING FOOD AS A FORM OF LOVE MY BELOVED.

Yo. My guy. Even Waan can see that Ai is getting uncomfortable with things. Don’t offer the spot of sleeping next to Ai to him. Even Waan is starting to side eye your help.

I’m not a fan of flashbacks in episodes especially to something that happened in the episode. I know we get Ai watching it happening now but it really wasn’t needed. If it happened an episode ago then maybe, but Ai saying “I saw what happened” would have been enough because we also just saw what happened.

I know this show has had the end of the episode be a dream multiple times but I really hope this isn’t a dream. Not because I don’t want to have to watch it not be real. But because I don’t want Ai’s dreams to spoil this moment for him. I don’t want it to be something he knows is coming. It lessens it somehow.

No screenshots this episode I guess. But based on the preview I’m certain I’ll have some next week.