#don't watch this movie if you're trying to quit smoking

[meowcifer-nails]

So, just saw Joker 2, and the main thought I have on it is that it's too half-baked.

They wanted to turn it into a musical, but couldn't commit enough to make it work, even as a jukebox musical. They obviously wanted it to be a slap in the face of the "joker fanboys" who misinterpreted the 1st but the way the went about it honestly was just so lackluster.

But the most disappointing thing to me is that Harley Quinn was not nearly as deranged and fanatical as she should have been AND her presence was not prevalent/strong as I'd have expected from a movie specifically titled Folie A Deux. I don't mind the angle they went about her obsession with *Joker* specifically but she was just... idk like Harley is supposed to be THE hardcore Joker stan yknow? And I'm supposed to believe that based on what I've seen?? LMAO have any of the writers ever met an actual fangirl?? I think not

The only things I can really commend on is 1) there is some beautiful photography and the pacing isn't bad despite the songs shoved in for no rhyme or reason 2) I get the intent of wanting to make Joker even more pathetic and kinda give the middle finger to the hardcore stans even if I don't think it was executed that well, and

(Spoilers ahead)

3) The ending has balls, unlike most of the rest of the movie, with the other main exception being the scene with Puddles.

[rosenclaws]

Hi again! 👋

I'm throwing another request at ya since you did such an awesome job with the last fic idea I requested. (Thank you again for that)

This time with the OG Logan and all his kitty cat hair glory lol.

The reader has similar powers to scarlet witch. Like telekinetic powers, levitation, etc. Can it be a scenario where she loses connection (like how wanda feels connected to vision) with Logan and thinks that he's dead and she just snaps. The villians who claims they killed him mock her and she pulls the move like wanda did in Endgame where she's like you took everything from me, and the villians don't know who she is and she's like you will and just goes full beast mode on the villians involved.

Bonus, Logans alive, he just was knocked out real bad and sees the whole fight happen and was like wow I love her and they reunite and it ends all fluffy with a kiss, maybe a proposal? Lol 😘

Heartbeat || Logan Howlett x Reader

a/n: This was such a great request and I have to say I really loved writing this. I did. go a little angstier than I thought I would and its darker than I expected it to turn out but I really hope you like it. Your mutant name is firefly. Also. I still haven't seen the movies so I apologize if its not accurate to how the X-Men work or anything im sorry sdakfjl;

warnings: fake out death, violence, blood, killing, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, the reader goes on a rampage, he calls you honey, reader almost dies, creepy ass villian guy.

wc: 2.3k

"You alright there honey?" Logan's hand gently rests on your shoulder.

You're staring blankly out the jet window, watching the clouds pass by as you ready yourself for what is pretty much a suicide mission. A whole organization that had been hiding underground, dedicated to eradicating mutants.

They've studied you. Planned. They know things, your strengths, your weaknesses. A few people had infiltrated their base and what they found...It made you shiver. Photos and articles and deeply personal information.

They had photos of you and Logan.

It made you paranoid sometimes. Like they were always watching. So you had to put a stop to it as soon as possible. You didn't go on missions often. Your powers were, quite destructive. Powerful yes but not always needed but the X-Men needed everyone they could. You take a deep breath and try to smile convincingly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Logan snorts and cocks an eyebrow.

"You're lying right through those pretty teeth." There's an air of fear in the jet. You all know what might happen if you don't succeed.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. Promise."

"Yeah they're no match for the Wolverine and Firefly." Scott teases making Logan roll his eyes. Scott just loved messing with Logan, taking any jab he can to lighten the mood.

"Can it bub." He turns his attention back to you, happy to see a small smile on your face. Logan takes your hand and places it on his chest. Your hands glow as you reach deep and feel his heartbeat.

"See?" You take a deep breath as you listen.

Sometimes you got too much into your own head. Your powers were tricky and when you got overwhelmed Logan always knew how to calm you down. The world around you fades as you focus on the beat of his heart. The rise and fall of his chest. He was your rock. The jet jolts and Logan holds onto you as you stumble.

"Think I got time for a quick smoke before we head out?"

"No you do not." Storm walks up to the two of you, she shoos Logan away who reluctantly leaves.

"We're landing in 10 minutes, are you ready Firefly?" You take a deep breath and nod.

You stare at your hands as you little particles of orange start to sprout from your fingers. You had control of your powers most of the time but they were still a work in progress but you knew that this mission was important so you couldn't afford to lose control.

Once the jet lands Scott and Storm tell everyone the plan again. This was for the future of mutant kind and there was a lot at stake. Each of you had a small usb drive that would corrupt and destroy any files still left in their system. Infiltrate and destroy all of their plans.

"Do you feel like pancakes?" Logan asks as you step out of the jet.

"What?" He shrugs and stands a little taller.

"There's this diner, open all night. Thought that after you'd want to get something to eat." You know what he's doing. Trying to make you feel better, to believe that you'll make it out alive. You can't die if you have a plans.

"Sure Logan, pancakes sounds great."

"Then it's a date." Logan heads in the opposite direction of you.

He's part of the brute force while you slip into the shadows. Still it pains you to be away from him. A storm rumbles in the distance and you hurry off to your position, afraid of what was to come. Still you keep going.

This was going to end tonight.

"Shit!" You hiss as a bullet wizzes past you.

Things had went to shit pretty quickly and it's an all out brawl now. With a wave of your hands soldiers go flying to who knows where. You sneak behind one and infiltrate his mind. Using his fears to show you exactly where the main computer was being held. He falls to the ground and you step over him as you sneak inside.

It was getting bad, you could feel it. Feel the tiredness and pain your friends were feeling. The guards fall one by one as you make it to the center console room. Exhaustion was creeping up on you. Your powers exerting every bit of strength you had. Still you knew what had to be done.

You plugged in the usb drive and watched as the system crashes, deleting every single bit of information they could have on the X-Men. Then you slowly envelop the console with your powers, crushing it until there's nothing left. You press your finger to your ear, alerting the team you had wiped their main computer in the comms. There's nothing but static on the other end.

"Guys?" You feel your heart start to race as you run out of the building.

"Hello? Anyone? Storm, Jean, Logan?" Still nothing.

Suddenly you feel this horrible, horrible pit in your chest. You stop in your tracks. Blood running cold as terrible feeling washes over you. Logan. You can't explain it, but somethings wrong.

"Logan!" You plead into your comms for him to respond.

You burst through the doors and back onto the field. Your breath hitching as you see the destruction in front of you. For any normal villain's they would have been nothing in the way of you guys, but these people knew exactly who you were. Exactly how to stop each and every one of you.

It was a losing battle.

Your eyes dart around as you send blast after blast, trying to help but with every move of your hands you feel weaker. Suddenly you hear a loud yell, you turn around to see Logan driving his claws deep into the chest of someone. You feel relieved seeing him still standing.

"Logan!" You call out to him and he looks your way. There's blood splattered all over his face and he looks worried. He runs towards you as fast as he could go.

"Get down!" He roars.

BANG

It all happens so slowly.

You look to your side to see a man with a gun aimed right at you. The exhaustion plagues your brain as you react too late. You see Logan running at you. A desperate look in his face as he jumps at you. You hit the ground and so does Logan. He rolls away and lays still. To your horror there's a bullet right in his forehead.

"Logan!" You screech.

You scramble to his side. He's not getting up. Why is he not getting up? He heals. He should be fine. His healing factor should have kicked in so why isn't he getting up. You reach out to him but someone grabs your leg before you can. Your hands dig into the ground as you're yanked back. Dragged to the center of the field.

"Get the fuck off me!" You kick your feet and scream loudly.

Your hands glow but you're face is shoved to the ground, a foot on your neck slowly stopping the air from entering your lungs. You can feel your strength draining. You try and use your powers but you can't.

"He's dead sweetheart. Think we don't know about that neat little regeneration of his?" The man above you laughs and you start to feel sick.

"We're not fucking stupid." He takes his foot off your neck and you gasp for air. He reaches down and grabs you by the neck, forcing you to turn and look at Logan.

"Where's that healing of his now?" Logan remains unmoving, you try and reach out to him. Using any bit of your power to search for him but nothing. You can't feel anything. Tears start to fall as you let out an anguished cry.

"I thought you were supposed to be strong? We heard so much about you and now look at you." He lets go of your neck and you crawl to your knees. Clutching your chest as sobs wrack your body.

"Don't worry though," You hear a gun cock behind you.

"It'll be over soon. Go ahead and say hi to your little boyfriend for us."

You look up at him and feel nothing but an overwhelming amount of pure rage. How fucking dare they. They threatened your life, your friends, your world. They took your peace. They took Logan. The love of your life, he died saving you. Your hands glow bright orange, your chest heaving as you glare at the man standing in front of you.

"Oh look at that, looks like you can do something." He sneers. You chuckle darkly. Tilting your head to the side you smile. Your eyes start to glow as you become strangely calm.

"You took everything from me...So I'm going to take it all from you." You scream as a large wave of energy bursts from your body.

A wave knocking back everyone in your radius including your team. The line of friend and foe blur as you go on a rampage. Disposing of anyone who came after you with ease.

"Firefly!" Storm calls out to you, you were becoming uncontrollable. No one can even get near you. Jean tries to get into your head but you block her out.

No one can get to you now.

They took him from you and you were going to make him pay. You stalk to the ones that were foolish enough to stay. Though they were crawling away now, pleading for mercy. It almost makes you laugh. They were showing no mercy when they planned to eradicate you and your friends. Why would you show them any now?

"That's enough!" Scott fires a beam to stop you in your tracks.

"They're surrendering." He reaches out to you but you push him away.

"I don't care." You snarl. You raise your hand and lift the stragglers up in the air. You're about to slam them to the ground but someone grabs onto your wrist.

"Stop!" The grip is tight as they spin you around. The glow in your eyes fade as you take in who stands in front of you.

"Logan?" You whisper. You try and shake your hand free but he doesn't budge.

"Let them go, honey." He says gently.

"They tried to kill you." You feel the fire come back but Logan does everything he can to calm it.

"But they didn't. They can't hurt us anymore." Still you don't move. He loosens the grip on your hand, taking your other hand and placing it on his chest.

"I'm alive, just feel." Slowly you lower your hand, softly letting the men fall as the rest of the team deal with them as you collapse into Logan's arms.

"I thought you were dead!” You cried. You rest your head against his chest, hand still gripping his suit.

“You weren’t moving and I, I couldn’t feel you.” He cradles the back of your head and holds you tight.

“I’m so sorry I scared you honey, I’m alive. Just knocked out for a little bit.” Logan feels horrible.

Maybe if he had been a little quicker you both would be okay and you wouldn’t have had to deal with any of that. He grabs your face and kisses you with an intensity you've never felt. It's sloppy and desperate but full of life. He's alive. He's telling you that he's alive.

When you pull apart there's still tears streaming down your face. Still so overwhelmed from everything. He lets you cry into his chest as he soothes you. Wiping away the tears as they come.

"I love you so much." He whispers so only you can hear.

The rest of the team watch but don’t say a word. Letting the two of you sit there as long as you need. Soon your tears dry up but you don’t let go of Logan.

It’s a quiet walk to the jet. Everyone is absolutely drained. You lean on Logan's shoulder as he draws shapes on your thigh with his thumb. Your hand rests on his wrist, pressing into his pulse just to make sure he's still breathing.

"Pancakes." You say quietly. Logan looks over in slight confusion.

"Huh?"

"You promised me pancakes," You crack a tired smile.

Logan stares at you for a moment before laughing in disbelief. The weight of what happened finally catching up to him. How close he was to losing it all, how close you were to complete destruction. The toll it's taken on everyone in the jet. The last thing on anyone's mind mind should be doing anything other than sleeping for a week yet pancakes feel like the best fucking idea ever.

"Yeah we can get pancakes honey, as many as you want." He kisses your forehead and places his chin on your head.

"With chocolate chips?" You ask playfully.

"I'll make 'em put in extra. Just for you." You hum happily as you lean in closer to him.

It's still a long flight back and one by one everyone starts to fall asleep. Soon it's just the rumbling of the plane. You look up to see Logan has fallen asleep, you watch his chest rise and fall. Just for a little bit.

He grumbles in his sleep, twitching slightly. There's a scowl on his face as he starts to shift more. Quietly you tap your fingers against his head, taking away his nightmares. He stops moving, relaxing under your touch. You smile softly as you slide your hand down to his chest.

Closing your eyes you feel his heart again. In the back of your mind swirls the horrible memories of today but you choose to ignore them for now. You close your eyes and allow yourself to rest. The steady beat of his heart acting as the perfect lullaby.

Just a steady reminder that everythings okay, there's nothing to fear anymore.

Thump

Thump

Thump

[rueclfer]

can't help myself // touya todoroki

a/n: inspired by my real life experience but not nearly as sexy as this <3 touya cig-smoker defender 4L sorrrryyyy

"so this is your so-called 'emergency'?" you shoot an irritated side glance towards touya. "the emergency that made me leave my bed at 1am?"

touya nonchalantly kicked his dangling feet hung over the side of the bed, returning your irritation with a shrug.

"yes? you're not even a little bit impressed?"

you take another peek inside the freshly open pack of cigarettes- marlboro reds. two lines of ten. twenty total. you bring the box up to your nose, taking in the faint scent of tobacco. warm. sweet. piney.

"how'd you get this?" you cock an eyebrow at him.

"just asked a random guy outside of the gas station." he tosses an old lighter up and down into his palm. "people will do anything for 20 bucks ya know."

"hm." you glance back down at the box in your palms. "and you haven't tried one yet?"

"obviously not. wanted to wait for you." he huffs. "for someone who's always saying some shit about 'god i need a cigarette,' you're not as excited as i thought you'd be."

touya gets up and walks towards the open window in which you had just climbed through a few minutes prior, grabbing the box of cigarettes from your hand as he brushes by. he takes a seat at the ledge, motioning you to take the space across from him.

you face touya, one leg extended into his lap and the other bent against your chest as a chin rest.

"i'm not-not excited? maybe just nervous." you mutter.

"good thing we watch a lot of movies then." he shrugs confidently. "m'basically a pro."

he shakes out a single cigarette into his palm before passing it over for you to inspect. it's light. the tobacco is tightly packed into a thin roll. you hold it between your fingers, looking at the way it positions itself as you curl your fingers, extend them, from the back- it was almost like the movies.

"quit eye-fucking it and put it in your mouth." he chuckles at your amazement.

touya flips open the zippo lighter, holding it out towards you.

"what?" you exclaim "i don't wanna go first. you do it." you hold the cigarette back for him to take between his fingers.

"pussy." he mutters under his breath with a faint smile hanging on his lips.

you watch him as he places the filter in between his lips, unhesitantly bringing the lighter up to his face with one hand cupping the flame. the orange and yellow hues illuminated against touya's face- a stark contrast against the azure blue of his eyes.

he sucked the flame in, the cherry glowing red as he deeply pulled. your eyes glued to his own, the way they peered down into the burning red ash, watching it crawl towards him before his eyes flicker up to yours with a quirk of an eyebrow.

he snaps the lighter shut, letting the darkness of the night time shadow his features against the dim moonlight.

touya inhaled as if it's his last breath. the ashes from the end of the cigarette begin to crumble until he finally pulls away. the smoke slowly dribbled out from his mouth before getting wisped away by the cool night breeze and filling your nose with the familiar smell of burnt tobacco.

despite trying to choke it down, he coughs. a lot.

"jesus fucking christ." he chokes out into the collar of his shirt between coughs, gripping your shin for leverage.

"yeah, good thing we watch a lot of movies." you laugh, waving your hand in front of your face, dispelling any lingering smoke. "dumbass."

"fuck off." he hisses.

he comes up from his shirt with teary eyes, red cheeks, and a big grin, holding out the cigarette for you to take.

you accept the offer, lightly tapping away the flaky ash off the side of the house.

with his eyes burning into your own, you hesitantly bring it up to your mouth, taking in the slightest inhale before ripping the cigarette away. you immediately exhale, a faint fog escaping your lips.

"weak." he whines. "that was barely anything."

"i'm scared and i'm not trying to die like you, dipshit." you roll your eyes "i'm just getting a feel for it, that's all."

"give it." he mutters, taking it from between your fingers.

touya scoots his way closer to you, your thigh now on top of his own and your bodies left with only a few inches of space between one another with your back pressed against the windowsill.

touya looms over you, holding the cigarette up to your mouth and cups your chin with his other hand. your eyes widen and cheeks flush at the sudden contact.

"inhale." he orders.

and you do.

you had a hand on his shoulder and the other gripped onto the fabric of his sweatpants.

"look at you." he coos. "good. keep going. keep going." he mutters, clear amusement in his eyes as he watches you crumble in embarrassment under his hands.

touya had a sick pang of enjoyment watching you let him hand feed you a cigarette. the way your eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. the way your lips puckered against his fingers. sharing yet another "first" with him.

if he was bold enough, he would draw your lips to his and transfer the smoke from your lungs into his own- an intimate ritual he swears he'd get to do with you eventually, or at least whenever he could muster up the courage to confess.

you frantically tap on his shoulder to stop once you feel the burn intensifying in the back of your throat.

you didn't know who pulled away first, you or him. you snapped your head back and violently coughed out the clouds of gray smoke into the night sky before crashing your head into his shoulder. you continue your coughing fit, but unable to shake the scratchiness in your throat and bitter residue over you tongue,

"piece of shit." you hack. "no more."

"no more?" he chuckles, running a hand up and down your back as an apologetic offer. "you did so good though."

"fuck you." you rasp out against his neck.

"just sayin." he takes another drag. "and it was hot. straight out of the movies."

you weren't sure if your rising temperature was from your best friend's shameless flirting or from your charred lungs, but your body suddenly took note of your close proximity with touya.

your head hung in the crook of his neck, legs over his own almost in a straddle, his calloused hands running up and down your back.

"i feel lightheaded." you murmur, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as the head rush settles in.

"last one and we'll stop." he taps your shoulder to sit back. he holds out the last bit of the cigarette to you.

"no." you whine, holding your palm up in refusal. "my lungs hurt. you finish it."

"we'll finish it together." he chuckles, holding it back up to your lips. his other hand reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears, letting it fall to the side of your neck as he pulls you in.

"give me a little puff. be good and give me one more."

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37

[popironrye]

The Lost Boys

Leisure Headcanons

💋 David 💋

Is a skilled fire arm shooter. (Loves the cowboy aesthetic)

Has his own gun hidden in the cave.

Doesn't get the chance too often, but will ride a horse when the chance arises.

Likes wood carving. Mostly non specific whittling into basic shapes or animals. It helps him relax.

Movie nut! When the boys go the Max's store to fool around, David makes sure to tuck a movie or two that catches his eye in his coat. Tends to watch them alone, all the questions from Paul would just grate on his nerves too much.

I imagine David would be like REALLY good at origami for no particular reason. He doesn't even try, just once the boys do it just because and he's just the best at it.

I don't know if vampires can emerge in water in the lost boys lore, but if they can David loves to swim. Chilling in water clears his mind.

💀 Dwayne 💀

Skater boi! Does a lot of sick tricks, but when you can levitate it's less impressive. XD

Doesn't care for guns, but likes archery. Hammers his own arrow heads. Dwayne and David like to pick a spot in the woods to shoot make shift targets.

A real book worm. Will spend a lot of time just silently reading for hours.

Takes up knitting from time to time. He prefers hand knitted blankets and throws rather then the store ones.

Likes to make jewelry. Made his own necklace.

Enjoys all types of puzzles. Cross word, jigsaw, and brain teasers.

Can sew and offers to sew up holes made in all the clothes the boys decide not to get new ones.

🌿 Paul 🌿

Can play the guitar.

Also likes to sing, and is pretty good at it. Wanted to start a band, but the other boys weren't up for it.

Has the biggest music collection and is always hogging the tabletop/cassette/cd player.

Amateur photography. Just likes to take photos randomly. Some are really artsy.

Got really into tie dye for a while. Although he might have just been high.

When he wants to relax, Paul really likes to stargaze. Laying outside the cave looking at the sky and hearing the waves of the ocean just makes him feel at peace.

When David isn't using the tv monitor, Paul enjoys quite a few video games. He also likes to take on the arcade and carnival games at the boardwalk.

🪶 Marko 🪶

Aside from pigeons, Marko will try to domesticate a number of animals to the cave, including stray dogs, cats, deer, badgers, squirrel, foxes, bats, and even a black bear once.

He in fact did NOT domesticate a black bear, but he did wrestle one.

He does his own patchwork on his jacket.

Like David, he likes to sculpt into wood, but he usually carves patterns and landscapes into more grand pieces.

He's also a skilled painter. Mostly he'll paint murals on sections of the cave David says is ok for him to paint on.

He collects sea shells on the beach.

He'll style the others hair. Especially David who he'll cut and dye in the way he likes best.

🔥Pack Activities🔥

Dart throwing. The bigger the target the better. David and Dwyane are very competitive at this one specifically.

Rollerblading. Put wheels on shoes, what more can you want?

Listening to music. The boys have very wide music tastes and sometimes they cross over and they all like the same stuff. They take turns around the player of their choice to just smoke, drink, and listen to the sounds of the music plays.

Card games. Specifically poker when they're all together. They make things more interesting when they make bets.

And of course motocycle cruising and board walk loitering.

Something that always strikes me with vampires in fiction and indeed with any immortal creature with the high and emotional intelligence of humans. IMMORTALITY IS FUCKING BORING!

I mean, think about it. Imagine you're given all the free time in the world with very little responsibility with no fear of getting sick or tired allowed to do pretty much whatever you want. What would you do? Cause I would go stir crazy. So I came up with these dumb little head canons on how I image the boys specifically would pass the time in their little vampire lives that doesn't revolve around murdering and feeding off of people.

Of course cruising on their bikes come to mind. And there's a couple in the movie we get to see like Dwayne's skateboarding and Marko's fondness for pigeons but I wanted to throw more possibilities out there. :3

[roadkillremi]

Kinktober '23

7 out of 11

Voyeurism

Stu Macher X F!Reader

MasterList. Kinktober '23

Summary : after telling Stu your wildest fantasies, he tells you his. Characters are 18+

Warning : MINORS DNI, Smoking Weed, Mentions Riding, (Consented) voyeurism, masterbation, mural masterbation, language, slight knife play, blow job, face fucking.

I had lots of fun writing this one

When you dated Stu you knew he was quite... Romantic. You didn't know about his little fantasies. You were sitting on his bed messing with his hair. His head rested on your thigh as he smoked a joint.

"Do you ever have.. sexual fantasies?!" He looked up at you with a wide smile. You smirked, "Why?". He shrugged, "Maybe I wanna try it".

You leaned back balancing yourself with your arms. Stu sat up holding his blunt between his fingers. He had a toothy smile and leaned forward towards you.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.." he offered you his joint. You took it, you took a swift inhale feeling it spread to your lungs. Stu leaned forward hinting at shotgunning. You leaned forward, holding his chin still blowing into his mouth. He inhaled and smiled, "You're so hot when you do that."

You laughed softly handing him his joint back. You looked towards the doorway, "Won't your parents smell the weed?". He sighed looking towards the doorway, "They're on another vacation.". You looked towards him, sympathy written all over your face. He placed his joint on an ashtray on his nightstand. He leaned towards you giving you a small kiss.

"Don't feel bad.. it's the only way we can have so much fun." He kisses you again. You smirk wrapping your arms around his neck. He grabbed your waist pulling you on top of him laying down.

"I'm not riding you if that's what you're hinting at-" you groaned. He smiled, "No! I wanna hold you!". You give him a look, he breaks out a wide toothy grin and sticks out his tongue.

"Maybe I wanted that too!"

You pushed his shoulders down playfully. He scoffed, "What?!". You sigh, "Let's go back to talking about fantasies instead.". He hums picking his joint back up, "Go ahead". You sigh, "You... I know you've seen scary movies with Billy-".

"Yeah..".

You bite your lip trying to figure out a way to explain it. He waits taking a hit from his joint.

"Uh, so you know how there's a final girl?" You ask. He nods, "If this is a film lesson. Go to Billy or Randy-" he laughs. You sigh getting frustrated, he notices and stops laughing.

"Sorry, continue.".

"I.. I wanna be a final girl.. for you.." you slowly say it. He processes the words and widens his eyes.

"That's great!" He sits up.

"huh?"

He puts his joint back down, his hands quickly go to your hips. He excitedly smiles, "my fantasy is.. stalking you.. and.. watching you be.. all naughty, y'know?". He leans closer squeezing your hips. You gently slid your hands up his arms.

"Really?".He nods excitedly leaning in to kiss you.

That's how Stu came up with his little code calls. He'd randomly call you at night saying certain lines. If you responded like how he told you it was a yes.

You were busy putting up laundry as your phone rang in your room. You picked up the phone putting it to your shoulder.

"Hello?" You walked over to your bed the wire extending.

"Hey, baby!" Stus voice boomed. You smiled, "Hey!". You put your folded shorts in a basket carrying it to your dresser.

"Whatcha up to?" He cooed

"Laundry, you?"

"Boring... I was.. about to go on a walk" you could hear the smile on his face. You smirk looking out your window. It was your parents date night they should be gone for awhile.

"Id love to join you, Stuey.." you bit your lip. He let out a small victory 'yes!'.

"It'll be a 15 minute stroll-" he added hanging up. You panicked looking at your clothes. Fifteen minutes?! You weren't going to be ready by then. You quickly put your phone back and opened your window. You put a tank top and pajama shorts on and made your bed. You sighed crawling into bed trying to steady your heart rate. The phone rang again, you got up answering it.

"I'm here.." he hung up. You smiled to yourself putting the phone down. You looked into your mirror putting red lipstick on. You heard shuffling in the bushes, you glanced over with a small smile. You walked over to your bed laying on it.

Stu watched you from outside, his eyes traced every inch of you. The way you put the lipstick on that he bought you. The pop of your lips once you finished putting it on.

You now laid out on your bed running your hands up your torso. Stu grinned, he knew you were putting on a little show just for him. He watched your hand go over your shorts. You let out soft whimpers as you rubbed circles over your clothed clit

Stu quickly unzipped his fly bringing himself out. He breathed heavily holding his penis in his hand. He watched as you spit on your fingers, he copied you imagining his spit as yours. Your hand slid into your shorts, he slowly started pumping. He followed your pace only going as fast as you did. He groaned wanting your hand on him.

He watched you desperately pump your fingers into yourself. He stepped closer to your window. You softly moaned out his name as you squirmed to your touch. Whimpers of 'Stu' flooded out your mouth. He caved in crawling through the window pulling out his pocket knife.

You stopped backing into your head board. He smirked pointing his knife at you, "No no no... finish what you started..". You nodded going back to fingering yourself. He smiled reaching for your shorts pulling them down. He leaned down pressing his thumb against your clit. You whined backing away from the touch as your stomach coiled.

He smirked, "Such a stupid girl, leaving her window open..". You stared up at Stu, "Anyone could come in... And hurt you". He smiled and laughed a bit, "come here.". He moved his head to the side motioning you to come forward. You crawled towards him looking up at him.

"Be a good girl and suck me off..". You looked down at cock, you nodded. He put his knife under your chin, you opened your mouth for him. He pushed his hips forward shoving himself into your mouth.

He let out a long 'fuck' before grabbing your hair. He pushed your head down feeling you gag a bit before pulling it back up. He chuckled, "Do you like being face fucked?". You just stared up at him, he smiles.

"Well I hope you do..". He pushed your head back down. He continued to make you gag on him laughing at your smeared lipstick. Watched as your face became a complete wreck.

Puffy lips, swollen cheeks, lipstick smeared across your lips and his cock. He smiled holding your chin, "That's a good girl.".

Tag list - @stusdollface93 @hurlonsororitygirls @sanzumylovee @katie-tibo @horneybeach1 @ithinkitszeph

[hocuspocusbabyy]

A little Ficlet from my archive of wlw… first time posting my Melissa content!

A breath of fresh air:

“You’re Jacobs aunt and the new French teacher at Abbott Elementary, Melissa and you bond over shared cigarettes and vices.”

Melissa stood next to her car facing the fence, away from Ava who was contently giggling at whatever stupid video she and Jacob were watching. She didn't see why Barbra had to banished her to the far side of the school for wanting one bloody cigarette.

Mel huffed trying to get her lighter to work from her spot behind the shed as she looked around, the empty streets dimly lit by the lamp lights bounding off the metal fence. It dawned on her that she was alone out in the Abbott Parking lot. Everyone else having escaped inside from the cold.

'What you doing over here all by yourself?' A familiar voice called, startlingly elegant the remittance of France still present within the dentals of her accent.

Melissa felt all the hairs stand on the back of her neck. The teacher whirled around to face them, the woman that had been giving her heart palpitations and a mega lady boner since the moment she’d arrived at Abbott four months ago.

Jacob’s Aunt, Jacob’s young, very attractive aunt - who was nearly fifteen years younger than her.

'Needed one,' Mel smirked awkwardly, holding up her unlit cigarette. 'Just can't seem to...' she gave her lighter a few flicks for effect, but it was futile.

'Here." Y/N produced a lighter and lit the flame, as Mel gratefully leaned forward and sucked on her cigarette until it caught.

'Thanks,' the redhead replied, finally feeling the blessed burn as the smoke hit her throat.

'So,' Y/n remarked, ashing her own cigarette, 'Jacob tells me you're a real Lotario.'

Mel looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. 'Who’s that?'

Y/n smirked. 'A slut, basically.'

The redhead grinned at Y/n 'Damn, you've just going call me out like that Hill?"

Y/N took another drag and smirked. 'So it's true then? You just go with a lot of men?'

'Go? As in a date? Nah, It's like, I've don’t take anyone out to the movies or shit like that, none since I was married… even when I was married.’ She shrugs inhaling again, ‘just kinda go with the flow,’ There’s an emphasis on that last part.

‘Everyone got a vice.' Y/n concurs. 'I for one have always enjoyed the pleasures of my fellow feminine species.” - how very French Melissa thought.

Y/n leaned against the wall alongside the teacher. 'I don't mind the company of women either. Never have.'

Y/n raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'Is that so surprising? An old gal like me chasing skirt?”

Y/n laughed aloud taking another drag of their cigarette, smiling appreciatively. 'So crude Schemmenti.”

Melissa made an acknowledging sound stubbing out her cigarette as you continued, ‘so what is your vice then?" Y/n asked, watching the Italian woman with interest.

"Work." Mel deadpanned.

"There are worse things to be addicted to I suppose" Y/n shrugged throwing down her cigarette and stepping it out.

"Yeah, but being addicted to sex sounds much more fun" Mel commented, smirking as she swore the woman beside her blushed.

"You know Janine and Gregory are definitely going to hook up”

Mel gave a disbelieving tisk, not wanting to give away her friend and colleagues years in the making relationship. "What makes you think that Frenchie?”

'Come on,' Y/n replied, placing a hand on her hip, 'Have you looked at them? It's bound to happen. I can't quite put my finger on it but I know there's something there.' Y/n continued, her eyes narrowing. 'There was this sort of connection between them the moment they laid eyes on one another. It's been a tumultuous back and forth ever since, someone you can’t falsify.’ Her gaze lingered upon the Italian, the soft curve of her hips as the lay push against the brick. Full and decadent. An essence to their words that did not reflect or belong to Gregory and Janine at all.

'I suppose you may have a point.'

'If they're not shagging now then they will be, I just know it.’

“Not who’s crude.” Mel joked, a dazing full smile lay upon her features.

Y/n simply shrugged. 'I only hope Jacob catches on and finds someone too, at least so he won't turn out a spinster like her aunt.'

‘Oh come on’ the redhead sniggered, ‘you a spinster? How ridiculous. You’re far too young and gorgeous to be referred to in such a way.’

‘You don't believe me? all my relationships have ended in utter failure because I am reserved to becoming an old spinster,' Y/n sighed dejectedly, dramatically. 'Perhaps I should just accept my fate and adopt a bunch of cats.'

Mel smirked, a little laugh escaping her lips as he turned to Y/n if you wanted to play coy, she’d take the bait. ‘Look I don't know much but I do know, no matter when or how it happens, you just gotta be open to it,' she whispered, ‘and when you've done that, well maybe then you can get some cats.’

Y/n looked at Melissa for a good long moment, letting what she had just said sink in. After a bit, she nodded in agreement before revealing a sly look.

‘You think I’m gorgeous?’

‘Caught that did you?’ Melissa shook her head, flashed a charming grin, ‘besides I'm sure even old spinsters get a good fuckin' every once in a while."

‘Oh sure. I'm sure I'll be able to fit in a good rendezvous or two between all the cat feedings.’ Y/n delighted, their bottom lip curling upon their teeth.

‘Yeah, see, there you go,’ Mel laughed. ‘I'd definitely wanna show a fine cat lady like you a good time.’

Y/n found herself grinning, and looked down shyly. Maybe she was lying a little, plenty of people flirted with her, but never any as spectacular as this particularly teacher. What was a white lie in favour of a future?

Y/n turned towards Mel reaching out and grasping her wrist, taking her other hand and idly drawing circles in the Italian’s palm. 'Is that an offer?'

Melissa gave another, surprisingly nervous laugh, smile brilliant and charming. 'Well that depends on your answer Frenchie.’

Y/n hummed as if she were contemplating what they were going to do. When really she was just trying to contain her excitement because holy shit Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti was going to kiss her.

No time for nerves Hill.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as the redhead stepped in front of her, moving in close. Y/n bit her lip, holding in a gasp as she felt tender fingertips and a set of perfectly manicured nails just barely graze the soft and sensitive skin beneath her left eye. A hot palm pushing against her skin, brushing away her hair and pulling in. Y/n needed bit down harder to prevent a gleeful shout from escaping as strong hands grasped into her hair.

There was a moment, a bare seconds, void of anything other than the woman before her. Vision becoming little but hues of red remittent of Italian soils that Y/n would gladly be lay to rest in. The soft apex of the teachers lips falling down upon her own, moving in a perfectly smooth motion.

Melissa Schemmenti’s lips could only be found among worldly things, the simplest of pleasures. Between old library pages, morning rain and bath water as it fizzled down a drain. A kiss worthy of its benefactor, a kiss she couldn’t help but reach up and steal again. A rememberable of smoke thick upon their teeth, as they devoured one another.

[lily-lovelyy]

Hello! Could you possibly write König and Ghost (separately) x a stoner reader who’s just faded 99% of the time? You can make it NSFW if you’d like! Please and thank uu! Have a nice day/night!!

Ahhh this is actually so cute to me!

(A/N sorry about not getting around to answering a lot of these this whole month has been very crazy for me but I am trying to answer them as soon as possible!!)

I'm going to do nsfw and sfw with both of these! And the reader is fem!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

SFW

- Simon smokes with you, his doctor prescribed him some for medical purposes, to help with his insomnia so he understands why you smoke!

- He thinks it's a fun way to bond with you, and you two have such deep conversations when you're both stoned as shit 💀

- Simon always orders pizza and takeout whenever you two start smoking, and he also has a snack drawer in your bedroom or near your smoke spot!

- speaking of smoke spot, at Simon's house he has a sun room he always drinks his tea or coffee in whenever he wakes up, or whenever he smokes, and he let you decorate the entire room however you wanted whenever he figured out how adamant you were about smoking!

- He is very caring with you whenever you're the only one smoking though, he coddles you and makes sure you're not paranoid or having a bad time! He's a sweetie.

NSFW

- It took a lot of convincing to do anything sexual with him while you're high, he just doesn't want something to happen without you being fully aware of it

- however, he absolutely loves it when you go down on him when you're stoned, apparently something about the weed makes your gag reflex disappear, and you can take him all the way down your throat

- whenever you're high, you also have a hard time understanding when he's sensitive or overstimulated, and you make him cum at least three times, and you leave him a mess.

- he's whining and moaning, gripping the sheets and stuttering pleas to stop, but he wants nothing more than you to keep overstimulating him

- you're also very good at aftercare with him, you let him share your blunt, and you both take a nice hot bath and after you cuddle in bed and watch your favorite show or movie while eating your delivery food

Konig

SFW

- Konig gets quite upset when he first finds out you smoke, but only because he never actually knew the benefits of it.

- all he knew was what his parents and teachers said about it, he thought you'd grow horns or get a mutation or something like that, but when you told him all the benefits, he was cool about it

- now Konig himself doesn't smoke, but he knows the signs of when you smoke, the smell, your demeanor and how clingy and sweet you are

- He also keeps snacks for you, in his backpack he has a designated pouch for chips and sweets when you get hungry, and an extra chilled water bottle in case you have a coughing fit!

- He also has an entire drawer dedicated to snacks for you, he has some comfy clothes for you in his dresser, some of your 'smoking gadgets' in his nightstand and whatever else you may need!

- you let Konig smoke once, and he coughed so hard you thought he was going to have a heart attack, so instead you bought some edibles for him to try, and he was into them, but only takes them when his anxiety is bad or when he's going to be around too many people.

(in my eyes, I don't think Konig could do anything sexual with you if you were high, but I will indulge your fantasies anyway 🙏🏻)

NSFW

- Konig is normally very rough with you during sex, because you do like it that way, but whenever you're stoned he's very gentle

- He doesn't go too hard unless you deliberately ask, and he definitely cums too fast, only because you're very...open when you're under the influence

- you admit to him how hot and sweet he is, and how his arms are just so veiny and big, and his eyes practically roll back into his head at the obscene squelching and moans that leave your lips

- you're not very vocal normally during sex, but when you're high, he's sure only porn actresses make the noises you make.

- Konig is an aftercare god, running you a bath and cooing to you how well you've done, and for the sake of it, hits a blunt once because he knows how badly you like to share with him.

[junedenim]

a vision trip

part 1 part 3

one day with a familiar face in a foreign country

word count: 10.4k

It's May in Paris. The breeze is light and the air is sweet. Alex sits in a cafe, picking at his nails, waiting. He nurses a coffee, but it's too bitter, and he's too nervous to ask for sugar or cream. He debates ordering food but decides to wait for his counterpart. He's tired. Too many shows and an overwhelming amount of traveling. There isn't much keeping him awake other than the people bustling around him and the person he's awaiting.

She was supposed to be here at 12 and it's 12:10 now. He won't complain. He isn't one for punctuality either. He can't think about the show tonight. It's draining but he'll soak up every minute of it. He just doesn't want to wait. He wants to take a nap. He'll wait 10 more minutes and then leave. It's fair enough.

He's tapped out. People-watching in Paris is quite a thrill. People sitting outside are smoking and he wishes he picked a seat out there so he could at least have a cigarette keeping him awake. There's a couple across the street either arguing or just passionately talking. It's hard to tell the difference.

Then, the chair across from him screeches across the floor loudly, drawing his eyes up. All the color drains from his face, his ghostly appearance recognizing the phantom that stands before him. His heart has fallen out of him. It's lying on the floor somewhere, the blood spurting out of it. Alex is certain he has fallen and hit his head and this is the dream sequence that plays in the movie. He's lost in a circle of time. It could be minutes or seconds, he sits there with his mouth begging to catch flies.

She smiles. That same fucking smile. Bright, pearly, the kind she'd give that made him want to lean in and kiss her. She looks the exact same. Even has a bandana on, although, now it's tied around the back of her head, holding that blonde hair back. It's longer now. She's dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white pinstriped button-up. It's almost like they are matching. Could be, if they wanted to with his trousers and white button-up.

He blinks like twenty times trying to clear his vision, make sure of this sight. Confirm this is real. It stays the same. "Holy fucking shit," he finally utters.

Her smile grows wider. "Wow," she sighs, "your French has gotten much worse. You're supposed to say bonjour."

Alex finally allows a smile to crack his face, despite his certainty that this can not be real. "What—what are you doing here?" His brows furrow, still unable to take in her whole image.

She takes off the saddle bag. It's leather this time. Not her old cloth one with the pins. She sits fully down in the chair across from him. A wide smirk displays across her face as she rests her head on her left hand. "Interviewing you."

As if this interaction couldn't get crazier and his jaw could possibly hang open wider. "Seriously?"

She gives him a pleased nod. "I don't usually do music but someone at my work mentioned the Arctic Monkeys concert coming to town and the opportunity for an interview and I begged my boss."

He tries to quail his quickened heartbeat but she isn't making it simple. None of this is simple and he's gone dazed and crazed. He must have. "I can't believe you're here. You're in front of me. I feel like you're so calm and I've completely lost it."

"Well, I knew I would be seeing you again for about a month and I tried to regain my cool in front of the bathroom mirror for about 45 minutes. Do you want to go do that?" She points behind her to the toilets with a dream-inducing grin. She's proud of that joke.

"I might have to. Go in there and se branler." He motions jerking off loosely with his hand and it gets that precious fucking laughter out of her.

"You remember any French other than that?"

He gives a quick shake of his head. "No, not really." Prompting more laughter from her. He stares at her, giving her a thorough examination. "I can't fucking believe it. It's been 11 years, you know, how fucking crazy is that?"

"Don't tell me that." She rests her forehead in the palm of her hand. "I'm still trying to deal with turning 30 and that was 2 years ago."

He's amused by her. It's 11 years ago and yesterday for him. He feels they've snapped right back into place. No time has shifted and they are 21 again and this is what life would have been like if they had July in Paris. "So, you finally figured out your life," he recalls her ramblings. Revels in them.

She shrugs. "For the most part. It took a while but we're here. It was kind of, well, our day in Brussels helped point me in that direction. You probably don't remember"—he remembers everything, seriously—"but you made this compliment about how I had all these good questions or something and I thought, after you, well, told me about the whole band thing, and I figured out how big you actually were that I could do that for a living. Interview people. I don't usually do rockstars though not since you."

A thumping rings in his red-hot ears. He tries to take a deep breath and has to try several times. "What do you usually do?"

"Mainly the art section. I go to at least a dozen gallery openings every week but I love it."

"It sounds perfect for you. You helped me understand Magritte."

She smiles with pride. "You always had a keen eye. I only pointed you in the right direction."

He lets out a puff of air loudly and shakes his head. He doesn't look down at his hands but already knows they're shaking. "I'm sorry. I just can't fucking believe you're in front of me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

She giggles. "I didn't really either."

He becomes a tad solemn as he leans on his hand, closer to her. "Can I ask you something?" She nods. "Why didn't you come to the Paris show?"

She leans back in her chair and her demeanor shifts. She's remorseful-looking and toying with her hands. He supposes that habit has stayed the same. "I wanted to. I tried to be but I had got into this journalism program in Boston. I saw you there but I didn't think you'd want to see me after ditching you in Paris. I didn't really know how to get backstage or anything either. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. Why did you think I wouldn't want to see you?"

She tries to hide her face. "I swear I wasn't searching you up every night and stalking you but I saw you and your girlfriend back then, uh, Alexa. Didn't want to impose on anything because that was back when I didn't have the belief of women and men being friends."

"Like Harry Burns? I'd want to see you no matter what." He doesn't want to admit to her how hurt he was by her not showing up in Paris. How her name had been on every backstage list for the Favourite Worst Nightmare tour. Let alone that embarrassed trolling around Paris he had done. His start with Alexa, however serious that relationship ended up becoming, was rooted in getting over Lottie. He still hadn't fully dealt with that last part. Not until she sat in front of him and he realized.

"I had a different mind at 21," she explains. "I changed therapists."

He throws his head back in laughter. "What was the final straw?"

"Well." Her eyes drift away from his, looking down at her locked hands. "Moving to America was the main reason. I couldn't deal with any more defense of porn-addict boyfriend."

Alex takes a sip of his coffee, forgetting its bitterness, but enduring it to indulge in her sweetness. "She never let up on that one?"

"Not really."

Lottie orders a cappuccino and Alex, unsure of what to do, says, "You know, I have a concert later tonight."

"I know. I'm gonna go if that's alright. For the article and everything." She says it like she's informing him, rather than asking for permission.

"Well, I don't have to be at the venue for another couple of hours and I've never really gotten the chance to explore Paris." The smile that spreads across her face tells him she knows what he is thinking.

She snickers, "I should get a flat day rate for being your tour guide."

He leans forward on the little cafe table between them. "Come on, I'll give an exclusive. Complete unabridged day with a rockstar."

She giggles. "My boss would be very mad if I didn't take that."

"Perfect." He means every bit of that. His 21-year-old self's fantasies are finally coming true. Imagining life as it truly should have been. He thinks how much he has changed since then. How much he has stayed the same. She's stayed the same in his mind. A ghostly presence in his mind. An angel that came and visited for a day. She looks much of the same, especially compared to his differing appearance. Longer hair, less scrawny, light stubble regrowing post-goatie. He's grown into himself more, no longer an awkward boy under a hoodie. He's getting hot under his suit jacket. "So, what have you been up to the past 11 years?"

Lottie points a finger at him. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you questions?"

He smirks and leans back in his chair. "No, see that's part of the deal. You tell me what you've been doing for the past decade and answer all my questions and I might tell you exclusive material. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

She raises an eyebrow but smiles and nods. "Let's see the last 11 years. I mean, I lived in Boston for 5 years. About 5 years too many."

"Why? Did you hate it?"

She tilts her head back and forth in an indifferent gesture. "It's a nice city but I don't think I belong in America. I fell into a fantasy there. By the time I had been there 5 years, I felt I had been living a lie the whole time. You know, I didn't like my apartment or my friends or even my job and I was 26 and it was either change my shit now or live like this for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yeah. I feel that now. I've been out in LA for about 5 years now but had never really settled until this past year. I loved it my first year. It was so different than anywhere I've ever lived but last year was the first time I had been there a full year and I think I hate it."

"America's a mess now anyway. I couldn't imagine living in LA. It doesn't seem fun."

Alex shrugs. "I like it but I think I've fallen away from it. And everywhere is a mess now anyway. Brexit's happened and England's a mess and I haven't even lived there fully since 2008 but part of me thinks I'd like it."

"When I moved back to Paris after Boston, I felt my whole body realigned and I'm not one for that energy crap but I think there has to be something to these places because I immediately felt a relief I had never felt in Boston." His head is filled with thoughts of telling her, I know exactly what you mean, I feel it right now looking at you.

"Maybe after this next tour but I don't know if me girlfriend would do it. She already moved out to LA for me. I'd feel shitty making her move to a whole other country."

"Is she American?"

He nods, even though he has a feeling she already knew that but she's trying not to seem like she already has all the answers to him already from her research. "You seeing anyone?"

Her face crosses. "Kind of." Her resolve breaks with a laugh. "God, how embarrassing is it that I'm 32 and kind of in a relationship?"

"I think you're fine. 32 is still young. You don't have to worry about that for another decade."

She leans forward with intensity, the same level she had at 21. "Except, I'm getting down to the wire here as far as having children." He throws his head back in laughter. It's nice to know that she hasn't changed a bit in 11 years. "I'm serious. And, I know, I know, science is so advanced these days and there are millions of children to adopt and blah blah blah but I don't want to be a 50-year-old pregnant woman or a single mother. I mean, I'm not opposed to it but I don't think there's anything wrong with having the fantasy of the nuclear family. Except I don't know if I really want that or that's just societal pressure I'm feeling."

It's deja vu for him of the romantic nostalgia variety that if he could package it into a pill and take it as a prescription forever, he would. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

She groans in frustration. "Great, so I'm a broken loop. I'm a woman moaning about men and babies. I put shame on all the feminist icons."

He waves his hand at her. "I think you're fine and it's nice to know how you feel about these things, even if it's the same. I feel that way right now."

"With children?"

"Yeah, I mean, most of me friends have settled. Everyone in the band has kids and I don't know if I want that. Me girlfriend wants that, I think, but I can't imagine touring and having kids at home. I still feel too young to have kids or to get married."

She groans, "Yuck. Don't even get me started on marriage."

"Don't believe in it?"

"I don't want to. I think if I was with someone who really wanted it then maybe but when I was engaged it felt like such a doomful thing."

She nonchalantly says it but he needs to know. "You were in engaged?"

Lottie gives a small head nod and sips her cappuccino. The subject is still an odd one for her. "For about 6 months in 2012. It was a disaster, to say the least, mostly on my part. He was a good guy but I was too immature to settle and he was the last thing keeping me in Boston. Once that ended, I came back to Paris."

"You were engaged to an American?" He leans forward with intrigue. It shocks him for some reason. 

She furrows her brows. "Aren't you dating an American?"

"Yeah, but it's different," Alex excuses.

"How?"

There isn't actually a difference other than bubbling jealousy but he can't admit that. So, he shrugs. "I'm a lowly Brit and you're a sophisticated French girl dating an American, let alone one from Boston."

She tilts her head in slight agreement. "He was awfully rowdy."

"Was he a big Red Sox fan?" Alex jokingly asks.

She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. "Yuck, don't talk to me about baseball. Sports is the primary reason I left. His family had season passes and it was like the Salem Witch Trails if you didn't go to every game."

"See this is why I can't picture you engaged to an American."

"Fair point," she says. "What about your girlfriend?"

"Oh." He doesn't know why he's taken aback by the question. It makes him stir with guilt. It's not that he doesn't love his girlfriend, he has a fucking tattoo with her name, but suddenly Lottie sits down in a cafe in Paris across from him and he is thrown. 

"She's great." He stops there but then Lottie stares at him and he realizes he's being short. He stares down at his cup. "She's—she's funny, beautiful, and very lovely." The description doesn't exactly help his case.

She doesn't push him any further. In fact, she smiles, and says, "She sounds nice. I'm sure you don't deserve her."

Alex chuckles initially at the comment but it grows painful inside of him. He struggles to digest it and the words weigh heavy as it turns from a joke into the truth. He shakes it off as best he can. "Who is this 'kind of' relationship?"

She sighs loudly. "We met at this weird work function. He works as a freelance photojournalist and travels to these warzones for months at a time and then he'll be here for a month or 2 before heading off again."

"Wow," Alex utters. How can I compete with a warzone photojournalist who is kind of her boyfriend? He shakes it. You don't need to compete because you have a fucking girlfriend, you idiot. "That's cool." Idiot.

"Yeah." She displays a similar demeanor as him: outmatched with no chance of catching up. "It's—he's a good guy. He does this incredible work but I can't help but constantly feel undercut by him. It's not his intention but—no offense to you—I'm telling him about some avant-garde art show I just reviewed and he's like 'That's great, I'm photographing Syrian refugee camps.' You feel like a complete loser next to him."

"You're helping keep art alive and maybe I'm stroking me ego too much but isn't that what we need during all these shitstorms? It feels like the only thing keeping me sane at times."

She leans forward onto her hand and smiles and, fuck, he feels his heart skip a beat. He can't shake her off of his skin, off his mind, off his heart. If he was a smart guy—a good guy—he'd do the interview, and leave. Play the show and leave France. Go home to his girlfriend and leave Lottie as a fantasy in his mind for the rest of his life. But then he thinks about his 21-year-old self who swore he wouldn't let her become that to him. Someone he would lie awake at night and imagine what life would be like if he got her. She's danced in and out of his mind through the years, but he'd be lying if he didn't think about what would have happened if she showed up in Paris. She got on that London-bound train. If they exchanged fucking phone numbers. He can't lie awake and think what would have happened if he didn't shun her. "Do you want to walk around now maybe?"

"Sure." She eagerly stands up.

She opens her bag and takes out her wallet. He holds his hand out. "You have to let me pay for your coffee, at least. I never paid you back for the hotel." The thought of the hotel room sends shivers down his spine. 

Alex tosses a few bills to cover the check and then some. She giggles, "You finally have Euros."

He shrugs with a hidden smirk too shy to show him how pleased he is that she remembers. Even if it's his dorky mistake. "A little more prepared this time."

They exit the cafe into the Latin Quarter with Lottie leading the way to their next location. Their pace is the same as it was in Brussels. In step with one another through talks of one another's lives. 

"What has the last 11 years been like for you?" She returns his question to him. "I mean," she admits, "I know some of it."

Alex narrows his eyes at her. "You've been keeping tabs on me, Lottie?"

She breaks eye contact away from him and shrugs but the smile that breaks through tells him everything he needs to know. He gets too much of a kick of that. "Well, you're not the easiest to avoid. I also did get really into your music after, you know, Brussels and all."

It pleases him until a realization drops his heart into his gut. He looks for a display of any reaction on her face but she keeps steady and walks ahead. He won't say it if she doesn't. Maybe she doesn't even know. Maybe only he paid attention to that kind of thing. Maybe only he paid attention to their hotel room number.

"I mean," he exhales loudly. "Everything you know is probably the extent."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, in the last 11 years all you've done is music. That's not true."

And, sure, it's not, but it kind of is. He doesn't want to tell her about his ex-girlfriends and he doesn't need to indulge her in whatever stupid stories he has of LA. "I think it is. It sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You're living a pretty cool life. Unless you don't see it that way."

"No, it's just..."

"What?"

"I feel like I've been in the same place since I was 21. I'm stuck in some cycle that I can't stop. I know I've changed and I've had experiences. I mean, I lived in New York for a little and I've been in LA for a while but when you're touring for more than a year at a time for pretty much a decade, it's hard to feel significant changes."

"I feel the same way since moving back to Paris."

"Really?" It's hard to feel like anyone knows how he feels. Everyone around him has had big life changes and he feels...the same.

"Boston was a whirlwind but it was my 20s. Now, I get up and go to work every day and I go home and repeat it. I have friends and we go out for dinners but I'm not getting married, I'm not having children, and I'm not visiting Antarctica. I'm still. For years, I liked that feeling but now..."

He finishes, "You feel stuck."

"Yeah. I swear I'm not depressed. I'm not going to throw myself in the Seine or anything."

He chuckles. "No, no. I know what you mean. It's just growing pains."

"Pft," she says, "at 32 I thought that would be over with."

"I don't think it ever goes away."

"At least I'm not getting zits anymore."

"Small victories."

She points her finger out. "There's this park, the Luxembourg Gardens, down the road. It's beautiful if you'd like to go."

And just like before, where she leads, he will follow.

"My father died last year," she tells him.

He isn't sure what to say. For the first time, he touches her, places his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and shrugs. "No need. I never really knew him."

"Oh," he says, "I didn't know that." He suddenly realizes that the perception he had of Lottie for the last decade has been shaped by one day, not even a full 24 hours. A time they spent together where he didn't even know that she never knew her father. 

"Yeah, I never—I don't talk about it very much. I feel like I've finally started to work through some of the childhood trauma shit that I swept under the rug for so many years. My parents' relationship was complicated."

"In what way? I don't mean to be nosy—"

She interrupts to reassure, "Never. You never are." She smiles over at him like a sunray. "I like telling you these things. It feels like a vessel I can put it in and send out to sea. I know you'll never tell another soul, right?"

He motions locking his lips and tossing the key. It makes her giggle and he forgot the thrill he got from doing that.

"My father was married when my maman had my brother and me. Never divorced his wife. I have a half-sister I've never met. She's like 20 years older than me."

Alex doesn't mean to have a visible reaction but he can't help but utter, "Wow."

"Yeah." She slips her hands into her jeans' pockets. "I don't know. I've been trying to work my way through all of it. I think I feel grief over it but I'm not sure if I'm mourning his death or the potential relationship we could have had."

"I don't know. I've never been in that type of situation with death. You know, the finality of everything. But with people that I've drifted away from, I imagine all these what-ifs." It's hard to ignore the person he's talking about is right next to him. "What I could have done differently to make them stay or like me or whatever but I've realized that no matter what you do it doesn't change the way the other person is. With your dad, I can't imagine not wanting to know you. Something must have been wrong with him."

"Probably," she agrees before laughing. The thickness of the conversation is split in two as they both laugh lightness into the air.

"So, you just grew up with your brother and mother?" Alex asks.

Lottie pulls a face, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips. "I wish. My mom had her series of boyfriends. Some better, some worse. Nothing bad and she never married any of them but it was a weird revolving door. The longest one was the British diplomat. That's why my English is so good. Well, if I do say so myself."

"I still can't speak a lick of French so you're 1000 times better than me."

"I can't help it if I'm so fabulous," she jokes as she skips into the gardens. He's left watching her cheer from six paces behind. Mirth floods him and he feels a snap inside him like a glowstick coming to life. She's lit him up all over again. Prescribed him exactly what he needs. If he was smart, he'd leave now. He got his fix and he should go to the concert venue and leave it at that. He walks into the Luxembourg Gardens.

Alex follows her as she walks through the green parterre of gravel and lawn. The area is decently populated but the wide expansion of the park prevents any crowding. He can't stop staring at the back of her. It's not in some sexual desire way. He's not staring at her ass. He's not really focused on one area. He watches the way her trainers plant their way into the ground. The way her bandana flutters from the wind. The way her hair moves slightly side-to-side with each movement. He wonders if she takes him in this way. Noticed the way his loafers tap into one another every once in a while when he's walking. The way his hands are in his jacket to prevent the wind from blowing it around. The way he has had to keep pushing his hair behind his ears.

Then, she stops and sits in one of the metal chairs they have, Alex sits across from her, and she says, "Your hair is longer."

Witch! She must be psychic. He pushes his hair behind his ear again as if on instinct. "Yeah, that's different. It's changed a lot through the years."

"Yeah, I know. The quiff was a funny one."

"Are you mocking me?" He leans closer and teases. 

She giggles. "No, never."

"You don't look too different to me."

She scrunches her face up and scoffs, "Yeah, how plain am I."

Alex shakes his head slowly. "Not plain. You don't need to change anything about you. You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now." He's trending in territory he shouldn't but it makes her smile, like really smile. She turns her head away from him and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Whereas you still look ugly," she mocks with a smug smile.

His jaw opens dramatically. "You are mean, Lottie."

"I'm kidding," she reassures. "You've always been a charming-looking man."

"You make it sound like I'm some dandy."

Her face twists up again. "What's that?"

"A dandy?" She nods. "For once, I know something you don't."

"You know many things I don't."

"Yeah, right."

"I can't carry a tune to save my life. In fact, I should win an award for not attempting to ever play music."

"I don't know. I think if you applied yourself to it you could be good."

"Are you trying to recruit me to your music school, Mr. Turner?" It's the first time she's said his last name ever and he realizes he doesn't know hers.

"You could be a good triangle player." She punches his arm when he says that. He asks, "What's your last name?"

She smirks. "Guess."

"I don't know. Something really French."

"No. Guess."

"I don't know," he says again. "Something like Bonaparte or whatever."

"No. Guess."

"We're going to be here all day if you don't at least help me narrow it down."

She grabs hold of his face, hands on his cheeks, which are growing embarrassingly rosy. "My last name is Guess."

His face drops. "Wait. Your last name is Guess. Charlotte Guess."

"Yes and ew. Don't call me Charlotte."

He sighs loudly, "I don't know, Charlotte. You put me through a lot of trouble there."

She relinquishes her hold on his face and leans back in her chair. He's unnerved by how the cold rushes to his body as soon as she isn't close. "You'll manage."

She oozes cool, always has. She props a leg up on the chair and leans back with such freeness that wasn't there 11 years ago. She's not twisted up inside, she looks relaxed. He wants to ask her how to get there. Lately, he's felt like knots of stress. Any effort to dissipate has been met unsuccessfully because he can't put a finger on what's causing all of it.

"You know," she says, "I do have to interview you at some point."

He waves her off. "I know, I know, but I'm still adjusting to the fact that I'm seeing you right now. I want to know more about you."

That hint of a smile comes back to her cheeks. "Like what?" The tip of her shoe knocks on his shoe and he isn't sure what to make of it. Looks down and wishes he could take a photo of it.

"Do you still paint?"

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head in disbelief. "You remember that I paint?"

Alex doesn't see it as a big deal. Why wouldn't he remember all those little things? "Yeah, and you're a decent cook, right?"

"Jesus," she lets out under her breath. A quickened heart rate and a brush of pink to her cheeks. "I don't even think my mother remembers I paint. I still do it from time to time. I was never very good at it."

He shakes his head. "I doubt that."

"You never seen anything I've painted."

"I don't need to see it to believe it. If you think it's bad it's probably better than what most people, including myself—especially myself—can do."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky I show you something."

"I'd like that." He hates how much he'd like that. "What do you paint?"

She shrugs. "This. That. Abstract kind of things. I like painting faces but I'm not very good at that. I get the proportions all mixed up."

"Like Magritte or something?" He chuckles.

She shakes her head. "Not quite. More like that botched restoration of that Jesus painting."

Alex can't help but think of the two of them standing before A Stroke of Luck and the cigar, but not a cigar painting (so, screw him, he can't remember the name of it). His mind can't help but reminisce on them in the park sitting in the grass afterward. Lottie, delicate and cherubic, picking flowers to place behind his ear, and then, kissing her. If he reaches out into the memory, he can practically still feel his hands on her skin. 

"Do you want to go to another art museum?"

"What like the Louvre?"

"Sure."

She laughs. "I am not going to the Louvre."

But Alex is already standing and reaching his hand out to her. "Come on, I've never been."

She sighs and places her hand in his. It's soft like a baby's freshly washed skin. His hand feels rough against the smooth surface, callouses old and new can be felt. Alex pulls her up out of her chair and they begin to walk to the park's exit. "How have you never been to the Louvre?"

"I've never had time," he explains. "Generally when I've visited Paris it's been for a limited number of days."

"But didn't you record the album in La Frette? Couldn't come in on a day off for the Louvre?" She's still holding his hand. He's not being responsible, he knows. 

In fact, he's passed irresponsible when he leans in close to her ear and says, "I missed when you didn't know anything about me."

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm the one taking you to the Louvre at 1 in the afternoon with no tickets. I think you can manage the sacrifice."

"You must go all the time considering your job," Alex says.

Lottie says, "Oh, I haven't been to the Louvre in over a decade," before bursting out into laughter.

"And you're shaming me for having never gone?"

She lets go of his hand and wags her finger at him. "Hey, I have at least gone. Multiple times! And the Louvre isn't exactly a place getting new and upcoming art all the time." She drops her hand back down to her side. Their hands never re-intertwined. "The last time I went I was 17 and I made out in the staircase with Alain Millardet the whole time."

"So, you really saw all the sights." He follows her directions as they cross the street.

Lottie gags from the memory alone. "He was a horrible kisser and we ended up getting caught by an employee. They told our school—our Catholic school, by the way—and it was the only time I ever got in trouble. The only thing that lessened the blow was that my maman was away with her boyfriend and never found out."

"You were a goody-two-shoes in school," Alex teases.

Lottie squishes up her face. "What does that mean?"

He grins at the way her little button nose is scrunched up, her eyes slightly squinted, the wrinkle formed between her brows. "Just means you're a rule follower."

"Oh." She giggles. "I just didn't get caught." Every inch of her intrigues him. The secrets she has buried deep within that he has an eagerness to uncover. The flip of her hair as she walks her way down the streets. Her hands clutch the brown leather strap of her bag. Those blue eyes glancing over at him as ripples of laughter echo through her.

They begin to cross over the Seine when she tells him, "This is the Pont des Arts. It used to be covered in locks, you know, the thing where couples put a lock on the bridge and throw away the key, but they had to remove it after the bridge nearly collapsed, which thank god because I had one with my ex-boyfriend on it and I couldn't bear the thought that we would be locked here together eternally."

Alex chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets. "Me first girlfriend did that with the lock she used for her locker. At the end of the school year, she wrote our names on the back and locked it to a fence. About a month after we broke up, I walked by the fence she'd put it on and it was gone. She had gone back and removed it."

"Aw," she coos, "poor girl. You probably broke her heart."

"Thanks for your lack of pity for me, Lot." She grins at the nickname. "How do you know she didn't break my heart?"

"Because only a heartbroken girl would go back and remove the lock."

"Yeah."

Alex gazes up and spots the glass pyramid, realizing they've already made their way to the Louvre. The courtyard is populated with people taking pictures of and with the structure. Someone is playing violin, likely busking, in the distance. 

As they approach the building, Lottie gasps and then begins to laugh. "What?" Alex asks with a hint of his own reactive laughter.

She gives him a funny frown. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?"

Alex confusedly responds with a dragged-out "Yeah."

She snickers. "The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays."

They both just take to laughing in the middle of all the tourists. Lottie clutches his forearm, which he reciprocates, making their arms plank over each other. Then, Lottie suddenly stops, stands up straight, and looks him in the eye, saying, "Time for me to interview you."

 Alex chuckles, "Nice try." He takes to guiding them out of the courtyard, walking ahead of her. "Where to next?"

She's right behind him. Alex can feel the edge of her bag touch his butt. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

The pleasure he gets out of taunting her should probably be illegal. "You'll get your interview," he promises. "I've already given you so much unknown information. I've never been to the Louvre, still to this day, my French is horrible, and I'm desperate to see some art so why don't you show me some of yours."

They pause at a crossing. "Are you trying to invite yourself to my apartment?" She has a habit of making him flustered easily. Her fluttering lashes flapped away at him. He swears they blow an ocean breeze his way.

He plays a tricky game. "Well, if we go to your apartment, maybe you'll finally get your interview." The light flashes green and he walks ahead.

She trails behind fighting a crooked grin. "I highly doubt that."

Alex hums.

Either way, they headed off in the direction of her place. Down the stairs to the metro where they wait for the 4 train. The platform is sparsely crowded, predictable for a Tuesday afternoon just before rush hour. 

"I have to say something." Her demeanor is coy. She's holding her hand in a fist up against her mouth. Her eyes peer up at him demurely. "I've been debating whether to say it or not but I figure out with it. No secrets, you know."

Alex nods curiously. "Okay."

"The song."

The two words make a chill go through him. Spins around his spine and hits each vertebrae. She does know. He can't help but physically react, muttering, "Oh, god," and placing his hand on his forehead in exasperation.

She giggles at his reaction. He is only calmed by the fact that she doesn't sound pissed. Still, he feels embarrassed. "It's one of your most popular songs."

Alex doesn't care. He lived up off the hope that she had somehow missed that one. Or she only ever listened to the most recent album for her work assignment. When he wrote it, it was felt under the impression he would see her again. Not under the impression that in 11 years he would be standing on a metro platform with her about to be interviewed by her. 

He re-establishes himself. He gets his footing, drops his hand from his face, and looks over at her. She's still looking amused by his reaction. The train pulls up to the station. "Which one?"

He is able to get a chuckle in when her jaw drops slightly. Feeling he has the upper hand, he hops on the train, having her dash behind him. Alex finds two empty seats and takes a seat next to the window. Lottie sits down next to him.

She seems to have composed herself. Tight jaw and curious lips. "Now, I meant 505, what are you on about?"

Alex shrugs. "Pft, who said 505 was about you?" He is staring straight ahead, calm, cool, and collected.

Her eyes are glued to him, watching his every move. "I'm not an idiot, Alex, I can read. Our hotel room was 505."

"Oh, what a weird coincidence." He is almost chuckling with pride in his humorous fibbing abilities. 

"Come on. I doubt many girls were lying on their side with their hands between their thighs for you, Alex." That memory strikes him hard. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can still trace the outline of her body in his mind, memorizing every crevice.

He chuckles with a wide grin. "It was a nice memory."

She crosses her arms in a pleased manner. "I knew it was about me."

"Yeah, well, I had a lovely time with you." His eyes are intently on hers. A knowing smile is splashed across his face. 

She returns the favour. They are in a duel with their eyes, fighting grins in their smiles. "Me too."

"Good."

She leans in closer. "Now, what's this other song about me?"

Alex looks away from her, gazing at the station they are approaching. "I think this is our stop."

He tries to stand up and she grabs his arm and yanks him back down. "Shush. You have no clue where we are even getting off."

Her hand stays gripping his forearm, keeping them steady. His gaze is resistant if ever pleasurable. His eyes trained on the doors and unsure of what to say, tossing between giving it up or burying it away. He plays with his hands, bringing them together, and then apart, and then back together. "I wrote this song, you know, in the, uh, hypothetical sense."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever that means. Out with it. You know, people are usually flattered by the thought someone would think of them enough to write a song about them. Let alone two."

"Alright," he calms. "The song isn't really all about you. I guess, you sparked the original idea."

She gestures for him to continue. "And?"

"Cornerstone."

She leans back against the train's wall. A small smirk plays on her face. "Really? You were seeing me all around town?"

He can't help but smile, although, forced to shield it behind his hands covering the surface area of his face. "Don't make me sound like a creep."

"No, no. It all feels like flattery." She looks like she wants to say something else but keeps it to herself. He's tempted to ask but she's pointing slowly to the train station and softly saying, "This is our stop."

They get up as the train stops. The doors stay closed though. "Flip the handle up," Lottie says.

He grabs hold of the door handle and follows her instructions. The door opens at a quick speed. So quick that Alex, still with his hand on the handle, nearly gets his arm yanked off. Lottie erupts in laughter behind him. He sucks in a breath and steps off the train. She places her hands on his shoulder as she follows behind him, too blind with laughter to properly guide herself. 

"You're really making a fool out of me today." Alex turns around as they ride the escalator up.

She's still emitting giggles when she says, "I'm sorry. It was too tempting though."

Her apartment is just outside the metro station. The building, Haussmann in style, is cold and dark in the stairwell. Lottie tells him to watch his step as they head to the second floor before she flips on a switch outside her door. Before she unlocks it, she turns and tells him, "I'm a messy person and you have rudely barged in on me so you can not judge."

Alex agrees and she unlocks the door. She has, of course, exaggerated the mess of the place. It's a loft of a decent size. Her bed is in the far corner, unmade with a plum-coloured mandala-printed blanket thrown over it. Clothes from this morning are strewn about the floor. Her kitchen is small and her plate from breakfast is still in the sink. In the back corner, across from her bed is a collection of canvases. They are all turned inward making him unable to look at any of them.

Lottie stands awkwardly in the kitchen, hands behind her back, bobbing on her feet. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water? Alcohol?"

He chuckles at her delivery, struck by her grace. "I'll take a tea."

"Okay." She busies herself with that as he examines the room closely. A shelf of books piled to the brim. There's a vase of flowers on a lower shelf. On the bottom: a record collection. He smiles to himself. "Can I put on a record?"

"Sure," she absentmindedly says. She's showing Alex her tea packets: black, green, mint, ginger. Black, he picks. 

She stills at the opening strings. Her heart patters at the clacking of the castanets. I found my love in Portofino...

She dips the tea bags into the hot water and turns around. She leans against the counter, staring at him at the place he has taken on her small loveseat. "You know, I got a record player because of this album."

His arms are crossed and he looks pleased with himself. "Inspiring a new generation to buy records. You know, AM is one of the best-selling vinyls of the 2010s."

She squints playfully. "Are you usually this boastful about yourself?"

"Stop, you're making me feel like a self-absorbed asshole."

Lottie crosses her arms, playing his game back to him. "What's the saying? If the shoe fits."

"Hush now. Sit." He pats the seat beside him. The air is thick and she cuts through it by walking over to him with two cups of tea. 

She prompts hopefully, "Interview time?"

Alex ignores her. "You know, I went and bought my own copy of this."

"The record?"

He nods. "God, I'm such a dweeb."

She shakes her head. "No. It's a good record."

He gazes over at her knowingly. His chin is tilted down and his eyes are blazing at her. "I didn't buy it because it was a good record."

Suddenly, she breaks. "You can't do that."

Alex gets the message, turns away, and focuses on the warm mug in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she reassures, calm and clear, "it's fine. I just can't sit next to you in my apartment with you saying things like that and not..."

"Not?" He tries to get more out of her.

She gazes over at him knowingly. Her chin is tilted down and her eyes are blazing at him. "You know."

He nods.

"I still have that photo of you. The one I took on that hill. It's buried deep in a drawer somewhere." She's tempting him and she knows it. She's not abandoning the topic of their romantic evening. She's not insisting on conducting an interview. She's flirting.

Alex smiles back pleased. "I probably look like a dork."

"Yeah," she dryly agrees making him laugh. "But a cute dork."

"Whenever I came to Paris, I would walk around, duck into all these cafes, and I had these visions of seeing you there. That's where Cornerstone came from," Alex confesses.

"I changed therapists because of you," Lottie confesses.

"What?"

She leans on her arm against the back of the couch. "It wasn't because I moved away. I came back from Brussels and told her about you and she said that you were a fantasy but not a realistic man. I shouldn't get my hopes up on delusions and should invest myself in some reliable man. That I was falling for a rockstar who probably did that thing all the time. The whole time she's saying this to me, I'm thinking, 'She has no fucking clue what she's talking about. Reliablity? Who has reliability at 21? My porn-addict boyfriend.'"

Alex laughs. "I still really love this porn-addict boyfriend of yours."

"Well, you and my therapist." The room goes quiet. She sinks into a corner of the couch and sighs. "So, you were the final straw."

"I've done that cafe shit every time I've been to Paris."

"What?" She sits up straighter.

"I just—I've always wanted to talk to you again. It felt weird when you didn't show up in July. I figured, or maybe hoped, something big happened for you not to be there."

She's stiff and awkward and looks down at her legs, awkwardly stiff. "I tried to be there. I wanted to. You have to know, if it weren't for the program, I would've. I mean, I still go to your shows, and listen to your records, and, for crying out loud, I harrassed my boss into letting me interview you. He probably thinks I'm some obsessive fan."

"Harrassed?" He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Lottie looks up sheepishly with a shy smile. "Yeah, well, at this rate, I'm not even gonna have an interview."

"You'll have an interview. I'll give you the best fucking interview." There's something in the way he looks at her. The tone of his voice makes her believe he is a lion and she's the gazelle he's waiting to maul. But those eyes, soft and dreamy. Eyes she could fall asleep next to every night.

"And then you look at me like that and you think you're the soppy one. I'm falling to bits over here. I've felt crazy for 11 years but then you look at me like that."

"Why'd you feel crazy?"

"I thought I made the whole thing up in my head. Like I was some psycho who imagined a whole night with you just because I liked your song. I mean, I ruined every relationship because I was hung up on you."

"What?"

"And now I'm ruining any possible relationship with you by blabbing on about this. I can't help it, you've infected me, you've ruined me, and I sound crazy." She's messing with her hair to really emphasize this fact. "But I'm stuck on the Boston T, riding the slowest train ever, sitting next to this guy I'm about to marry, and we have nothing to talk about, and all I'm thinking is 4 years ago I got on the wrong train." 

Her breathing is heavy. Rattling and refusing to calm her heart down. She can't distinguish what his eyes mean.

Alex is quiet when he speaks. "Fucking hell, Lot."

Any move he thinks about making is interrupted when she quickly stands from the couch and separates herself from him by pacing in the kitchen. She clutches her hands around her face, cheeks turning red. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think you should leave. I'm sorry for that whole display. I'm so lost in myself and I'm crazy and I'm sorry."

Alex stands and takes a step toward her. She takes one back like they are the same side of a magnet repelling one another. "Lottie."

"I'm sorry."

He takes a moment for himself too. Runs his hands through his hair, heart pounding he puts his hand over to still it and takes a deep breath. "No," he insists. "First, you're not crazy. Second, I haven't seen you in 11 years and I have thought about you for too long to let you go—go on that other train again." Something chokes him inside. Maybe it's the guilt, the thought of his girlfriend back home. Maybe it's Lottie, who looks two steps away from crying, and all he can think about is being left on that train platform again. "Third, we have to do the interview."

"Oh, god, that stupid interview." And then he laughs. So, she laughs.

Alex attempts to step toward her again, cautiously like she's a cat he is afraid he is going to scare off. She stays in her place. He leans down and hugs her. She's hesitant but then she hugs back. Tight like they are each a moment away from slipping out of one another's grasp. 

Alex pulls away, but keeps an arm around her back, pushing them toward her front door. "So, let's go eat some lunch and do an interview."

She sniffles and then smiles over at him in a remorseful manner. "Okay."

They head to the cafe on the street corner. The conversation grew lighter and Alex joked that he still didn't get to see her paintings. She countered that she still hadn't interviewed him.

On opposite sides of the table, each holds a cigarette and chats over an ashtray. Lottie asks him questions regarding the album and Alex answers formally, which is almost too proper and comes off more jokey than serious. Nonetheless, she quotes him on it. 

He grows hot and takes his jacket off, halfway through, around the time their dishes arrive. The interview, more-or-less, ends there as they each inhale their meals and split the stack of bread. "I'll be here tomorrow too, you know."

She nods. Of course, she knows.

"We could do the Louvre then."

She smiles with amusement at him. "You're really obsessed with the Louvre."

"I'm determined to go and now to get you to go. Maybe we'll makeout in the stairway and get caught by one of the nuns." The comment is cheeky and they both laugh at it, even if it should hold more guilty weight than it does.

A woman then approaches them. She's old, enough to be someone's great-grandmother. She speaks in French to Lottie, who has grown a furrowed brow, as she repeatably says no to the woman, who holds up a necklace at her. 

"What's she saying?" Alex inquires.

Lottie sighs and says warningly, "Alex."

The woman smiles big and looks over at Alex. She speaks very broken English, but tells him, "Her neck, nothing." She gestures over to Lottie's bare neck, the way her top pulls down (notes of cleavage, but he's got to get his mind out of the gutter), accentuating the bareness of it. Alex has shameful thoughts in remembrance of kissing it. Fuck, he's screwed, if the pull of his pants says anything. The woman holds the necklace high in her hand. "For beauty. Beautiful woman needs beauty."

Lottie begins to speak in French to the woman as Alex wordlessly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a bill. The woman lights up in delight and accepts the €20 as Lottie shakes her head. "Her ears, nothing," the woman tries to push more.

Alex cheerfully says, "No, no, just the necklace. Merci beaucoup." The woman attempts again but Alex ignores her and her English is too poor to keep trying for another sale.

Lottie is staring at him. He can't decipher if it's a look of pleasure or unease. "You shouldn't have done that."

"The necklace is nice and I gave the poor woman some money. Now put it on."

She stays still for a moment but gives in and sits up to accept the necklace. It's simple. A chain with a small blue pendant on the bottom. It matches her eyes. She mutters a thank you, if for the gesture alone. After a few careful tries, she clasps the necklace. "I'll probably get some sort of infection from it."

He chuckles. "Probably."

They sit in silence with one another. They are stuck in the middle of a staring contest where fireworks spark between them. Alex breaks it and looks down at his empty plate, a flush of shyness overcoming him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Are you interviewing me now?" She giggles, pleased with her joke.

"Hey! I let you get all your questions in. It's my turn," he insists.

She relaxes back in her chair and crosses her legs. "Okay."

"What do you think would have happened if you got on the train with me? Or if you showed up to the concert?" 

It draws a rough breath out of her. "We wouldn't have worked out."

His heart stills. It's not the answer he expected. All that wishful thinking that had swirled in his mind for the last 11 years. The feeling that if he had been able to convince her or was able to find her, they'd be living happily ever after. "Really?

She shakes her head. "Are you kidding? I was a mess. I had no idea of a future for myself. I would have been in Paris or Boston and you would have been on the road all the time. I would've definitely been one of those girls who thought you were cheating on her the whole time. I probably would have convinced myself of it and not believed you when you told me the truth. I was born the product of an affair. It is my blueprint to assume every guy I'm with is getting it somewhere else."

Alex feels hungover with guilt at the thought that what he is doing right now might as well be an affair, if only emotionally. He sighs, "Yeah, I mean, I was a mess for like...forever." They both laugh. "Every time I feel like I've gotten my shit together. Something comes along to pull the rug out from under me."

"What's it this time?" She's staring at him, doe-eyed and smiling. 

He can't think of an excuse. So, he's honest. "You."

She's not offended by it. She smiles, though she does try and suppress it. "We should probably go to the venue. Right?"

Alex nods like hiding himself from the Parisian streets will get him out of this mess. Lottie insists on paying the bill, mainly because she isn't paying the bill, her work is. They could take a car over to the venue but Alex is overly enthusiastic about riding the metro over. "I have to redeem my shame. You know, in London we just have the button, so I can't be blamed for not knowing how to open the train door."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

At the venue, Alex gives Lottie a quick introduction to his bandmates. He says nothing more than, "This is Lottie, the journalist," but they all respond with knowing looks. Alex gives her a tour, mostly through her insistence that it would be cool for the article if she could set the scene for the reader. Alex says, "You're a painter with your words." She rolls her eyes and he gives her the tour.

"And a soundcheck, what's that like?" She asks before, you guessed it, soundcheck.

Alex shrugs. He tends to be short with answers for most interviews, but with Lottie it's different. Not once has it felt like he is being interviewed. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. "It's...good. You know, making sure everything works. Good, fun."

She's cheery with her questions like the kid who constantly raises their hand in class but she's endearingly earnest and the way she scribbles notes in her little notepad makes it feel so much more authentic than when someone sits a tape recorder in on their conversation.

She watches soundcheck in the same way. She'll write a little note at the end of each song but then she'll rest in her chair and observe the full play out.

Backstage, Alex separates himself and Lottie from the rest of the group, which is notable. He wishes they were walking around still, escaping all their responsibilities just like they were doing in Brussels. He supposes that's growing up.

Lottie says, "It's good. Last time I was a bumbling clueless girl with no idea of her future. Now, I'm a bumbling clueless woman with no idea of her future."

"Oh, come on, you have a great job. You're interviewing me and that might be one of the hardest tasks ever and you're doing amazing," Alex reassures.

She nods. "I know. I love my job but that's all I have. It's crazy when we were in Brussels, all I wanted was to figure out what I wanted to be. I finally did that and I feel just as lost."

"In what way?"

She thinks for a moment, deciding how she wants to form her words. "I wish I was like my old self more. You know, I used to be so hopeful, so romantic about the world. About myself. About the future. Now, I just think I'm going to be alone forever." She is quick to correct herself. "And—and I don't mean I have nobody. I have a great set of friends. I love my life but when I look toward the future, I see nothing. For so long, I didn't know what I wanted but there were always possibilities. Now, I don't know." 

"I feel the same way," Alex confesses.

Lottie lifts her head in surprise. "Really?"

He nods. "It's what used to be so exciting about my life. Being in a new city every day and being able to set your own path. I still like most of that stuff but I feel behind everyone else in a way. You know, like how all the guys have kids and I don't think I'm ready for kids but should I be ready for kids? Do I want that? To be married? To have a family?"

"I don't think you're ever ready for that kind of thing. You are just ready for the feeling. You'll never be prepared enough for children that's what everyone says but I had a thought a while ago when, well, I had this pregnancy scare, which really was terrifying because the guy I was with is not a guy you want to have children with. My first thought for so long would have been 'I don't want children. I will not be birthing anything in my lifetime.' But when I had this scare, I think I liked the idea. Then, the test was negative and I breathed a huge sigh of relief." Alex chuckles at her dramatics as she talks with her hands. "But for those couple of minutes, I thought that being a mother wouldn't be so bad."

Alex smiles at her. "You'd be a great mother."

She looks up at him, all hopeful and disbelieving. "Do you really think so?" 

Alex nods. "A few anti-depressants and you'll be fine."

Lottie rolls her eyes and raises her hands and starts moving her fingers. "Say stop."

"Stop."

She stops, extending her middle fingers only, flipping him off. 

"That's good. Can I steal that?"

Lottie shrugs. "I don't have copyright on it."

A stagehand comes over and they realize how much time has escaped from them. Alex shuffles fixing his jacket as he stands, going into rockstar mode. "How'd I look?" He imitates a deep voice, gruffly and surly.

She giggles. "Like an asshole."

"You're so kind to me, Lottie."

"Maybe lose the jacket," she advises. Total professional opinion and not because he has three buttons loose on that white button-up that make her crave his skin. She's going too far, she knows, but she's a single woman. It's fine for her to observe.

Alex shakes his head and tightens his hands around the lapels. "I'm going to keep it on just to spite you." (He takes it off 4 songs in).

She walks him up the stairs to the stage but then says teasingly, "I'm going to watch from my assigned seat if that's alright with you."

He chuckles. "I'll look for you in the crowd."

She turns to leave and it's almost like she's fading from him all over again. Sure, they could get drinks after this and there's that rough plan for the Louvre tomorrow, but the image of her back to him walking away strikes something in him. "Hey, Lottie!" He calls out.

Alex catches her before she walks down the stairs. She turns around, curious eyes, curious smile. He's 21 and he's on a train to Brussels. He's 32 and he's in a cafe in Paris. No more what could have been. He knows.

"I think it would have worked out." 

Lottie looks at him from across the wing. He toys with his fingers, hopeful eyes, hopeful smile. She's 21 and she's on a train platform in Brussels. She's 32 and she's backstage at a concert in Paris. No more doubts. She knows.

"I think so too." 

*

a/n: part 3? i don't know. maybe...

[calumsargwife]

'i told them about you.'

calum hood x fem!reader

summary: for the first time in a while, Calum tells his friends about you

warnings: bad language maybe, mentions of drinking or smoking. (English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors, sorry!)

word count: 1.9k

note: hey! i know this took a while but here it is! i hope you guys like it. question: do you think i should also write for other people? maybe characters from movies or smth. tell me your thoughts!

"So, how's this new girl going?" Luke asked with his second drink of the night in hand.

As they normally do, the boys had gotten together today to hang out, to see each other in another context other than work (as if they didn't see each other every day already).

They had dinner and were now having some drinks prepared by Ashton, who had 'accidentally' made the drinks a little stronger than normal.

"Yeah, you haven't told us anything about her." Michael added as he sat in one of the single chairs.

Calum sighed as he took a drag on his cigarette and sat down in the large armchair in the living room, trying to hold back a smile as he exhaled the smoke from his mouth.

"What's that smile for, uh?" Ashton teased and pinched Calum's arm, also with one drink on the other hand.

"Don't know..." Calum modestly answered.

"Aw, c'mon. Just tell us something!" Michael insisted.

"How long have you been dating already?" Luke questioned as he smiled mischievously at the other two boys.

Ok, the truth is, you two weren't dating, you were still just getting to know each other and the boys knew it, they just liked watching Calum get all red.

"Two months." Calum answered shortly as he diverted his gaze towards the large window, which gave the view of of the tall illuminated buildings; the suppressed smile on his lips made his cheeks hurt. He remembered that surely you would love to have one of these windows, you liked to have a great view of the entire city.

"And...?" Ashton pressed.

Calum took another drag of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke and sighed to give the long-awaited response to his friends. "Wrote a song about her."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed what was said until Ashton spoke again. "There's no fucking way." He spoke in disbelief while he leaned his back on the chair in surprise.

"A song?" Michael asked you. "About this girl?" The boy turned his head to look at his friends with wide eyes. "You've never done anything like this so quickly."

They weren't wrong. Calum was normally one to have casual relationships, he said he was in a moment in which he couldn't focus on a completely exclusive relationship with so much commitment. I mean, he and the guys were at the peak of their career now, they were recording an album, doing a lot of interviews, maybe they were going on tour and... well, he just didn't have the time.

So it's obvious that his friends are confused. Calum was quite strict about the rule of not dating for a long time.

"What changed?" Luke asked, who was now analyzing his friend a little more.

"Her." Calum responded immediately without taking his eyes off the window. "She changed everything." He said now taking his eyes off the window and looking directly at the group. "She broke every rule that I could have ever set for myself."

Calum finished his cigarette and placed it in the ashtray on the living room table. "So, I wrote her a song."

"Damn."

"I know." Calum sentenced with a smile while he rubbed his hands and played with one of his rings, the one you gave him for his recent birthday. A birthday that the boys assumed had ended early because of you. "I just really like her, you know?" Calum raised his head to look at his friends. "I know it sounds crazy but..." he tried to explain himself.

"No, it's alright... I get it, really." Luke interrupted him. Calum quickly turned his eyes to him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, man." Luke answered with a smile and looked at his friend tenderly. "Maybe you're falling in love, who knows." He teased.

The boys laughed at the joke. Calum laughed lightly and looked out the window again, instantly thinking of you. Luke's joke resonated in his head, maybe it wasn't that crazy.

That night While Calum was telling the boys about you, that same night, they spent the night over together at Michael's and Calum was the first to wake up and leave. He didn't say anything but he was walking frantically around the house while he picked up his things and had breakfast with his friends, who were very relaxed sitting in their chairs while looking at Calum with an amused expression.

Once in his car, Calum began to reflect. He had to pick you up at your house in exactly twenty minutes to go have lunch together at his house.

He knew he had changed, he knew he was different and that things were different with you. And he didn't see it as a bad thing, really. Because for the first time, he was taking his time to do things the right way. He wanted to know you well before making things official, he wanted to know you deeply.

Calum was enjoying this little secret situation of getting to know each other. He liked that no one knows what's happening and that it is something that only he can witness. He was fascinated by the feeling of privacy and that no one could steal those moments, they were his and his alone. So, telling his friends about you was a big step for him.

Calum liked you a lot, so he couldn't contain his smile as he turned the corner of your house while simultaneously trying to remember that spice you like so much in salads, he wanted to have it mentally written down.

His smile widened when he saw you standing waiting at the door of your house. He got out of the car and came out to greet you with open arms.

"Hello there, beautiful." He greeted as he eagerly brought his lips to yours without waiting for any response from you.

You giggled before connecting your lips to Calum's. "Hey..." You received another kiss from him on your cheek. "I missed you."

"Me too." Calum had recently started to admit that he missed you when you weren't together. You couldn't deny that you liked the feeling of him missing you. It warms your heart a little every time he says it.

Calum at first was... complicated, to say the least. You really had a lot of patience and trust in the process because this guy wasn't easy. He was very closed to the idea of being in a relationship again or even trying to be in one. It took a while for him to really open up fully, you knew who he was before you started dating and Calum was careful about it. He thought that at first he couldn't trust you, but oh how wrong he was.

You were the most fantastic person Calum had met in recent years: completely honest and spontaneous, you were really patient with him, you never rushed him or pressured him into anything.

Maybe it sounds like you chased him around but the reality is that it was Calum who asked you out (as contradictory as it may sound) after having seen you several times in the same places as him, he developed a crush on you the moment he saw you.

So being here now, opening his car door for you to go to his house, makes it seem like everything was really worth it.

"Have you made any progress on that song you told me about?" You asked after the trip started, your hands intertwined, you felt Calum's finger lightly caress your hand. You definitely didn't know that Calum had written you a song.

Calum smiled to himself as you remembered what he told you, something he was excited about. "A little bit yes, we've been with the boys defining the chords a little so then moving on to polishing the lyrics a little more."

"Sounds fun." You answered him while with a sweet smile observing the panorama through the window.

Calum looked at your profile for a bit and sighed discreetly.

"And how are you doing with your thesis?" He asked you now. "Have you been able to find out anything else or...?"

You laughed a little before answering. "It's not a thesis, it's a research." You gave him a tender caress on the cheek when you saw that he didn't remember the difference. Calum did know the difference, he just likes to play dumb with you so he can see you explaining the same thing to him for the fifth time. "But it's going well, we changed the methodology so it's giving us better results."

The small, casual conversation continued throughout the remainder of the trip. Once they arrived, you didn't wait for Calum to open the door for you before rushing to his house, eager to see his little dog, Duke.

"Why do you seem more excited to see my dog than me?" He asked with an amused smile as he reached your side at the door.

"Because I am." You answered without looking him.

"Rude." Calum answered as he pretended to be offended.

You giggled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Once the door opened, Duke instantly jumped onto your lap. While you were busy greeting the dog, Calum went to the kitchen to start preparing lunch.

Minutes later you joined him and you began cooking a simple but delicious lunch: a classic pasta. Calum was fascinated, he'd never tell you but deep inside he was completely giggling and kicking his feet. Everything came so naturally to the two of you, nothing was forced and you functioned as if you had known each other your whole life.

After a while, the two were eating in Calum's dining room. You made casual small talk, mostly in silence as you enjoyed the food. Calum savored this moment and tried to imprint moments of this tranquility into his brain.

"You know..." He began as he took a sip of his drink. "The guys..."

"Your bandmates?" You finished his sentence.

He nodded. "I told them about you."

Now you were in shock.

He told his best friends?

He told them about you?

You did know that they knew Calum was seeing someone. But that he told them specifically about you.

Wow.

Now that was a big step. Especially for Calum. You knew how much his bandmates meant to him, how much he trusted them. You also knew how Calum hadn't been in anything serious with anyone for quite some time, so it was probably a surprise to them as well.

You swallowed nervously. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, and they were happy for me." He answered you with a sweet smile as he blushed a little and looked down at his plate.

"Well, I'm happy for you too." You told him with your most honest smile as you took his hand across the table and gave it a light caress.

"They want to meet you..." Calum told you, a little nervous that you would say no. "And I want you to meet them too, honestly."

"Seriously?" You tried to contain your surprise. It wasn't a secret that you were also a fan of the guys's music, so you felt the pressure.

Calum nodded with a smile and looked into your eyes again. You saw hope in them, he didn't want you to say no. "Then I would love to, it would be an honor, really."

Calum smiled happily and pulled your hand to pull you over to where he was sitting at the table. He smiled and sat you on his lap. "Thank you, it means the world to me." He told you with a genuine smile while with one hand he caressed your waist and his other hand cupped your face and brought you close for a sweet kiss.

As you shared that kiss, Calum couldn't help but feel a great emotion inside of him, for the first time in a long time, he had a good feeling about this.

[forever--darling]

Hi sweet girl , I want to tell you that your me & the devil fic is one of my favorites and one of the best I'm reading. For me Anakin x reader is perfection 💗.

I don't know if I'm being too ambitious but in blurb ideas I have one for Hayden and one for Anakin. I would like it to be fluffy.

From Hayden it could be something like : How is an outing with him ? ( I love how homey he is ) . Cooking together , watching movies in his living room while cuddling . Him giving that charming smile he has .

And for Anakin I love the idea of how he comforts his girl . Hugs , nicknames , cuddling together .

summary: a night staying in, resulting in getting high, has you unable to focus on the idea of sex when you're too busy laughing & realizing the extent of your feelings

pairings: hayden christenson x young!reader

word count: 1.0k

warnings/notes: age!gap (reader in mid-twenties), mention of weed/getting high, fluff, honeymoon phase af, mentions of sex, mentions of anakin skywalker

p.s. to whoever requested this, I will be doing your second request as well sometime soon.

masterlist

Blue pupils stared back at you, up through the dim lighting of the bedside lamp. Slightly blown out, from the weed in his system or you, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t know as this wasn’t something the two of you ever did often, yet the sudden fire beneath your skin and the precious need to press your body close to his was something you craved. Perhaps, it was the way his lips felt along your collarbones, the sides of your neck, or how his warm hands, calluses in all, felt along the bareskin of your sides. Maybe it was just him in general, how much and how quickly you had found yourself wanting him. 

Or maybe it's just the drugs. 

The way they seemed to warp your senses, filling the air with some sort of stamina that left the particles buzzing and your breath astray. The music sounded quieter than it really was, but perhaps it was masked by the soft giggle that poured out freely. 

“What? What is it?” Hayden sighed, almost disappointed, his head lifting up from where his lips had been attached to your collarbone, kissing softly.

A quirk appeared in his brow, a teasing look in his eyes as he took in the way you appeared so perfectly pinned underneath him. His body on top of yours, legs parting yours, his weight light as they pushed you deeper into the mattress. 

Your laughter quit but only for a moment as you tried to explain just what was so funny to you in the first place, something that wouldn’t have been nearly as funny if you hadn’t smoked as much as you had. For not having done it in a while other than the edibles you had at least once a week, you had forgotten how much to inhale. 

“Nothing,” you said, trying to appear as serious as can be, a smile forming in a fine line as you met his stare. 

Your laugh burst out again, though, and your eyes crinkled shut, unable to stop the way the hormones attacked the neurons in your brain. 

“Right,” Hayden replied, narrowing his eyes playfully, the redness in them no doubt matching your own. “Clearly, it’s nothing if it has you laughing as much as you are.” 

You shook your head, hands automatically wrapping around his strong shoulders, fingers carding through the back of his hair almost like they had a mind of their own. The softness of the short curls had your heart bursting if that was even a feeling. 

“Seriously, tell me.” 

“I can’t.” 

“And why not?” he demanded, thumbs rubbing soft circles across your hips. 

“Because…” 

You were laughing again, and his head was falling, meeting your chest with ease, a sigh filtering out of his lips. 

“Baby,” he mumbled, lips pressed along your collarbone again, but this time no longer gracing them with the kisses you had come to love so much. Almost too much. 

“Fine, okay,” you gave in, laughter diminishing again to nothing but a soft chuckle, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to get the words out, “I was just thinking…” 

“Yeah?” 

“When you’ve hooked up with girls in the past, have they, ever, you know. Asked you to like dress up in costume?”

A deadpan look appeared on his face as his head lifted, eyes finding yours again, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, have they ever been mid-foreplay and straight out asked you if you can dress up as Anakin or Darth Vader?” 

“Where is this coming from?” he chuckled, too, lips lifting into that smile that somehow had convinced you to leave all the guys your age in the past. 

“Or have they asked you to pull out your lightsaber?” 

“Y/N,” he shook his head, mouth forming in an ‘o’, almost in surprise as you continued to laugh. “I’m trying to initiate sex here, and you’re laughing about if other girls have asked me to make their Star Wars sex fantasies a reality?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, the tone almost accusatory tone as if it was something you would be asking, especially five hits later from the joint that was now stubbed out in the bathroom. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that,” he laughed then, too, “Why, is that something you want? Do you want to know about my lightsaber?” 

“I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t,” you retorted, laughter falling away to complete seriousness.

 Staring down at him, you felt the silence lull, almost swallowing you whole as the realization appeared again, almost like a car hitting you out of nowhere. The realization that you had fallen for an older man, a man you hadn’t expected to ever want you back, to notice you the way he had. Worse, to love him as you did so quickly, so immensely was too much, too much to understand, to accept. 

Yet there you were, pinned beneath him, heart so full, so well-kept, hoping that it would stay close within his palms for the rest of time. 

That charming smile appeared then on his face, his eyes crinkling slightly, a certain sort of contentment appearing as if he had had a revelation of his own. Words were not enough in that moment, so evidently as he leaned up, connecting his lips with yours, softly, deeply as if he was trying to pour his very own breath into your being. 

You loved this man; that was inevitable. 

After a few seconds, he pulled back, only enough for his lips to depart from yours. That smirk of his still firmly sat along his face. “So, what are you saying? Do you want me to go grab my wardrobe from set? I’m sure you would really have something to laugh at then, wouldn’t you?” 

You loved this man, and you wanted him like this forever.

“Yeah, I would.” 

[the-milk-monarch]

[𝚂𝙼𝙾𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙴𝙴𝙳]

Summary: General headcanons.

☢︎ | Total Drama | ~3k words | gender-neutral reader ♡ | Mal | Mike | Vito | Svetlana | Scott | Gwen | Noah | Cody ⚠ | smoking weed lol

[𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎]

He'd be very hesitant to try any illegal (or legal, depending where you live) substance.

You gotta be on very close terms, and he needs to trust you a lot.

Would be surprised, first of all, when you offered.

I imagine he was a "good boy" throughout his life, so he'd have to think about it.

But if you finally get to it, he'd be quite fun.

After he goes through the several coughing fits, of course.

You make sure to bring him something cold to drink though, to help with the burning throat.

I imagine he'd focus on all the touchy-feely aspects of weed, like enjoying soft fabric, the euphoria, better music and so on.

It'd be quite an adorable sight of him "discovering" those.

The both of you had already prepared everything for a good smoking session, or so you thought. You noticed you didn't have a tv remote nearby to change the screen to Netflix, so you had to leave Mike alone on the couch for a moment. Mike felt all tingly and slightly dazed, nothing he had ever experienced before. It was both terrifying and kinda cool. He patiently waited for your return, but as he got slightly bored, his eyes began to wander around. His focus got fixated on a fluffy blanket you were supposed to cover yourself with. He gently picked it up with curiosity. His fingers just touched the nicest fabric known to man. It took you a while, but you eventually found the remote. Which was left in your room. You should really watch where you put your things while stoned. You couldn't hide the smile you had on your face as you noticed Mike getting comfy with the fluffy blanket. He made his lower half into a burrito, fidgeting with the tip of the blanket with his hands. After he noticed you staring he immediately stopped, though. "Oh- You're back." He smiled nervously. "You mind sharing that blanket?" You smiled back, nearing closer to the boy. "Right, of course, you can come here." He changed his position as he quickly reacted. You got under the blanket with the remote in your hand, sitting next to him as your side touched his. "It's- very comfy." He quietly remarked with a shy smile as a fact, but also to explain his "weird" behavior. "Not as much as you." You joked as you leaned your head on his shoulder, flashing a silly smile. His face flushed a slight shade of red as he chuckled.

Not that he'd demand it, but... If you pet his head, he'd appreciate it a lot 👉👈

Do it please, he'll melt.

[𝙼𝚊𝚕]

Surprisingly, he never tried it.

Ok, he may have, once or twice, but it was with a bad crowd most probably, so that doesn't count.

He'd also have to trust you quite a lot to be exposed to such an activity, it'd leave him vulnerable, after all.

But if you're close together then it wouldn't be such a big deal for him.

Weed paranoia might set in if the vibe in his mind ain't right though.

Then he'd be closed off and not really having fun.

But if not, he'd be quite chiller version of himself.

And you try your best so he'd be comfy.

"So- How do you feel?" You asked, looking at him. An idea has already formed in your head, but for now, you try to test the waters. He reciprocated the stare briefly, taking a second to process what has been said to him. "I'm- fine. Why do you ask?" "Do you wanna feel even better?" You ambiguously (in his pov) asked. He raised an eyebrow at you. You could've worded yourself better, but it's what you have to roll with now. "I mean-" You tried to explain yourself, but it's hard to form words in your state. At least you and him are both stoned, so it's unlikely Mal would cringe too much at you. "Since we're watching a movie, and I see you sitting so tense, why don't you- lay down?" You lightly suggested. He shot you yet another confused stare. "You care a lot about my comfort now, huh?" He asked you in a bit poking fun way, but it was all lighthearted - at least you thought so. "I'm very hospitable to my guests, what can I say?" You smoothly tried to save your face. He rolls his eyes at you, after which he smirks slightly. "Alright. But what about you? What if I take all of the couch space?" He raised his brow in a bit amused manner. "You know, you can just put your head on my lap." The words spilt out of your mouth. You got some surprised yet entertained at your boldness stare. "Don't think it's gonna become a habit." He 'warned' you before hesitating for a second and carefully placing himself down. His head awkwardly leaned on your lap. He wasn't used to being in such position. "And that's supposed to be comfy?" He was laying on his back as he looked you straight in the eyes with a halfly playful and doubtful expression. You noticed it was your cue, so you gently raised your hand to touch his hair. He got slightly alarmed at what you're doing, but after your fingers touched his hair and made the first pet, his expression softened a little. His face remained neutral, although it was visible from his body language that he actually enjoyed the closeness. "...So? Feeling comfy yet?" You playfully asked, playing with his hair. It was quite fluffy, as you expected. "Hm... I agree it is enjoyable to have a useful pawn at your disposal." He joked with a slightly silly smirk.

Surprisingly enough, he'd be quite funny when watching some shitty movies.

Like this guy has some sick ass roasts for the bad characters + stupid plot mixture.

Sorry but Mal strikes me as a hidden comedian.

Of course, it's only funny if you're into his humor though.

Loves listening to music high, the lyrics just flow in his head.

Are you up for listening to My Chemical Romance with him??

[𝚅𝚒𝚝𝚘]

This boy must have smoked some before.

Or at least seems like the type who would.

He'd be way more annoying with his flirts.

Weed gives him confidence, and it's already oozing out of him enough while sober.

An opposite of Mal, in a sense that Vito just cannot be funny.

You may only laugh at how bad his jokes are (respectfully).

This won't stop him from having a good time and laughing at his own jokes though.

To be fair, on weed everything is way funnier, so Vito passes the hilarity scale anyway .

He also laughs at the dumbest things.

Show him funny videos compilation and he'll have a good time.

Would get even lazier.

Expect him to be all over the couch.

Oops, guess there's no place to sit now.

Better go cuddle with him.

You just came back from going to the kitchen to get some more food and here you saw your place on the couch taken. "Vito." You shot him a half-serious glare, to which he just stretched more comfortably. "Hm? Oh, did ya really like that spot on the couch?" He said looking at you, playful and smug. You rolled your eyes at him, waiting for him to move. He didn't. He just looked at you, as if testing your patience. "Sorry, I look too good right now to move from this place." He playfully stuck out his tongue with a smirk. You took it as a challenge, so you just squeezed yourself in-between the couch and him, making him almost fall off the couch when he lost balance. "Aye, yo- you gonna drop the goods-" He quickly remarked as he got his balance back. You chuckled and caught him with your arm on his side, supporting his body so he wouldn't fall down. He readjusted into a comfier position, facing you. "Ain't it better laying here?" He said with a smirk.

Perfect fit to watch movies while cuddling.

Especially some cool, action ones.

That way he can tell you how he's as amazing as those guys in the movie, and that he could do anything, like that guy from Need for Speed.

If you disagree, he'll be very disappointed.

[𝚂𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚊]

It'd be... an usual sight to see her smoke.

I mean, she's so active and energetic-

It kind of translates to something else when she's high.

She loves to talk on weed.

"Vant me to tell you zat one time I got a golden medal?" The enthusiasm was fully visible on her face. "Of course." You nodded lazily but with curiosity. "Oh, great! It vas near the time I performed my first backflip!" She reminisced and continued. "I'll tell you about zat too!"

She's so social, talkative, expressive and overall joyous.

You think it's quite adorable, and you don't mind listening.

You forget everything she said after few minutes anyway.

Don't worry, she'll say it again, with the same enthusiasm.

But don't take her as a selfish one, she'd love to intently listen to your stories too!

She'll try her best to remember them as well.

On a funny scale, Sveta is most likely the 3rd funniest one, I don't make the rules (I do actually)

She can be a bit- savage, if she wants to.

Especially when it amuses you.

She loves to see your smile.

She's also such a cuddlebug!

Loves to stay close to you, you're like her personal pillow.

You noticed the window to your room being open. You didn't mind a slightly colder room, but you wondered if Svetlana was bothered by it. "Hey, Sveta, are you cold?" You asked casually, gaining her focus. "Are you?" She looked at you like a concerned mother. "Nah, I'm fine." You calmed her down, although you couldn't deny the dirty truth. "I mean, maybe a bit, but I'm too lazy to go close it." "Oh, zis is unacceptable-" She scooted closer to you as she said halfly-jokingly and embraced you tightly. She gently laid you down with her body weight and put herself on your chest. You felt her arms holding you as she had a warm smile on her face, giving you a nice source of heat now. "Is zat better?"

[𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝]

He'd be a total dork.

He has never smoked weed, but will act like an expert.

"Hey, Scott, you sure you're gonna handle that much?" You asked, concerned about Scott's wellbeing after you noticed his share of weed. "Psh, I'm gonna be fine!" He brushed you off with a simple gesture with his hand. You watched as the boy with freckles on his face got the bong in his hands and started to inhale the smoke. He tried his damn best, but he couldn't stop the attack of sudden coughing it gave him. "Ih'm- Good-" He managed to cough out.

After trying to appear cooler, he'd behave a lot more dumber.

Which made it harder for you to stop giggling after each of his response.

"So- Whatchu wanna watch?" You asked him lazily. "Wha- Huh-" He looked around, thrown off of his thoughts. You laughed softly at his state. "...What was the question again?" He looked at you, really dumbfounded. "What movie do you want to watch?" You repeated with a chuckle. "...One that has moving pictures in it."

He also wouldn't be able to resist the food.

The pure joy in his eyes once he took a bite out of the pizza you ordered before smoking-

Is also a lot more excited for things, like "Woah, there are still onion rings left? Amazing!"

Is also down for like, anything you suggest.

Wanna watch a movie? Got it.

Wanna watch the paint dry? Sure thing.

(He used to it for fun as a child, anyways)

Wanna sit on the floor, stopping whatever you were doing to pet your dog/cat? Count him in!

His whites turn so red because of his blue eyes- (I experienced it first hand)

[𝙶𝚠𝚎𝚗]

She totally smokes weed on her own, from time to time.

So she's not as afraid to do it with you for the first time.

Her social anxiety would be slightly lowered, and so she wouldn't be as self-conscious to get vulnerable around you.

She would probably have a good time.

Also would get more touchy, she rediscovered her biggest weakness, affection.

She usually doesn't receive much of it, given her closed off and calm body language around others.

She'd be the one to ask for permission to touch your hair (if you're close, of course).

She loves to play with it, you're like a personal kitty to her.

Loves watching horror movies with you!

Whether bad or not, she's up.

Her favorites are Scream, Nightmare on Elm Street and Scary Movie series, which she enjoys a bit ironically (not all of the jokes from the movie aged well).

If you're scared of horror though, she'll light up the mood with silly jokes and lots of cuddling.

She looks the best in her cozy pajamas, laying on the bed with you.

Sorry Gwen-fans, no little situation bit for Gwen 😔 I'm feeling uncreative on this one

[𝙽𝚘𝚊𝚑]

You wouldn't expect him to actually agree to smoke weed with you.

Turns out, he's up for it.

I mean, he never saw it as anything spectacular, but could understand why people do it.

Never planned on doing it himself, but since you offered, he's slightly curious to try.

Que nonchalant coughing after inhaling too much on the first try.

Don't make fun of him.

Would internally salivate after the hunger hit him like a train right when he finished smoking.

"So- What do you want to eat first?" You casually asked. He waited a bit before answering. "Anything works, really." You passed him a very good looking, chocolate donut. He took it into his hands, looking at it a bit before taking a bite. His eyes opened a bit wider while experiencing the explosion of flavor from it. "I never thought I'd know what Owen feels like on the daily."

Would get like, 10x funnier.

Watch a movie with him, it'll be a blast.

He's the type to sarcastically comment on a cheap 3D during a movie scene. "Geez, if I wanted to watch a bad production, I'd watch Total Drama."

Would probably cringe after the smoking session was over though.

As if he shown "too much of his bad side", which he usually smoothly tries to hide.

But it wouldn't be such a big deal, he just isn't in the mood to hear your teasing at something silly he might have done then.

Actually would be up to smoking again, it seems like a blast.

[𝙲𝚘𝚍𝚢]

Yes he smoked all the weed, everytime and anywhere.

Don't actually let him smoke too much though, he'd get obliterated.

He has never tried weed, but wanted to try it with you, since you offered, and he thought it'd be a good idea.

But he found out he's slightly paranoid after it.

And his awkwardness doubles.

I mean, how can he not, he has to show his best self to you!

He calms down once you put him in a good place mentally.

He can't stay in his limbo of intrusive thoughts if he's got a bad joke to laugh at.

His honest laugh is so pure.

He didn't even know how much of a sweet tooth he'd become after smoking.

He likes sweet to a relatively normal degree while sober, but boy oh boy that chocolate bar is looking good right now-

He won't stop eating them unless you tell him to leave you some, to which he'd embarrassingly chuckle at. "Sorry-"

If he's feeling brave after all of that character development, he might subtly suggest snuggling together.

He just got to see how amazing it is to have a heightened sense of touch, and he's not gonna waste it.

"Do you- also feel a bit cold?" He asked, trying to be casual. "No, actually. Do you?" You responded honestly, leaving him a bit out of options as to what to say. "Um... I- kinda- do-" He stayed 'nonchalant' as he fidgeted a little with his hands, trying to keep his body language neutral. You didn't think a lot before responding back. "You can come closer, I don't mind." You casually said. You didn't really mind the close proximity while high, you liked having someone to casually lean onto. And you certainly didn't mind it with him. "Oh, that's fine then-" He scooted over to you in a smooth, yet a bit hesitant manner. You felt Cody's warm side beside yours. "If it's not weird with you, you can like- comfortably lay on me, if you want." You lightheartedly and carefully suggested, not wanting to seem like a weirdo, in case he's not as open to physical touch. Cody's eyes widened a little, but he wasn't about to decline your offer. "O-okay!" He exclaimed, trying to contain his excitement, not to seem too desperate for any sort of affection right now. He entangled his arm slightly into yours to get even closer, after which he leaned his head on your shoulder. "Amazing..." He mumbled to himself with a goofy smile, hoping you wouldn't hear.

If you're like his best friend and he's comfy around you, prepare yourself for a karaoke night of stupid songs like California Girls.

This boy can get silly.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring Suguru Geto in a curseless AU set in the early 2000s.

Synopsis: Neither one of you are quite over your "Relationship" If you could call it that. You had been avoiding him since the breakup for that very reason. He was the last person you ever expected to see at this party.

The wind was bitterly cold. You blew the smoke out of your lungs, watching it swirl into the clouds and praying it would take you with it. You didn't want to be here. You hated parties. You hated this town.

"There you are!" Your friend groaned as she came outside. "God, you're way too good at disappearing. I've been looking for you everywhere." You took a moment to take her in. Her eyes were filled with worry for you, frustration etched into her eyebrows. You hated to admit it, but you liked that she worried. It made you feel loved again. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

"Yep. I'm here. You should have guessed," you chuckled, throwing your cigarette onto the concrete and stomping it out. 

"Come inside," she insisted, "it's freezing out here." She was right. October nights had always been bitter, but tonight had a particular edge to it. You nodded to her as you slipped your hands into your hoodie. 

"I'm coming." 

"Try to look like you don't hate it here" your friend teased, "miserable is not a good look on you." You disagreed. You thought misery was your default. It was glamorous. It was vintage. It was hand tailored for you. At least, that's how it felt these days. Since things had ended. It had only been six months since your relationship failed, but it felt closer to six decades. Suguru’s ghost clung to you, haunted your body and mind. It felt like you were never not thinking about him. You wondered what you’d do if you saw him again.

“Ah, but that's the thing,” you half laughed, “I do hate it here. Frat parties are for people who like other people. And that's not me.”

“While true, they’re also for people who want to get black out drunk and forget their ex, which is you.” Your friend argued. I mean, shit when she was right she was right. The two of you walked back into the party, the music blasting top twenty pop hits into the air and shaking your soul out of your body. You tied your hoodie around your waist, the heat becoming thick faster than you expected it to. Your friend yelled…something you couldn’t decipher into your ear before disappearing into the crowd. Fuck.

 You sighed and made your way through the ocean of college kids, all swaying, making  waves in time with the music. You found your way to the kitchen, mixing yourself a vodka redbull. You drank it far too quickly, made yourself another one, and got about half way through it before you took another breath. You tuned back into the music, just to roll your eyes. Who burned the CD for this party anyway? You were sure this party couldn’t get any worse. Then it did.

You made eye contact with him the moment he walked into the kitchen, looking tired and disinterested. Satoru was going on and on about something inconsequential, you were sure, and Suguru was looking for a drink to help make his best friend bearable. His corpse eyes found a light in them as they connected with yours. You were sure whatever light you may have had left in your eyes faded instantly. You finished your drink. 

“Dude, are you even listening to-..oh.” Satoru cut his own sentence off as he realized what, or rather who his best friend was staring at. Shit. There was a solid five seconds of the three of you just staring at eachother in a fucked up standoff. Each waiting for the other to make a movie while Brittnay sang about genies in the other room. He looked better than you were fully willing to admit, wearing tripp pants and an old Korn tee over a mesh shirt. Your breath felt heavy in your throat. Memories of the last night you saw him exploded in your mind like war flashbacks. The tears, the fighting, the begging. The goodbye. Fuck.

He made a b-line to you and you b-lined to the back door, your closest escape. “Dude, stop!-” You heard Satoru call, no doubt chasing after Suguru. You were thankful for him. He was rarely the rational one between the two of them, but he was normally able to bring Suguru back to earth when he lost his mind. Maybe that was why they worked. You didn't really care to give it much thought anymore honestly.

“Y/n!” you heard your ex call for you. Fuck he sounded close. You could hear the chains on his tripp pants rattle as he made his way to you. You started to run. You hated making a scene but you couldn’t see him. For all the times you wondered what you’d do if you saw him again, running wasn’t ever really one of the options, but you’re here now. You made your way out the back gate and to your car. Your salvation. You picked up the pace, unlocking your car and falling into the seat with a swiftness that shocked even you. You let out a sigh of relief as your car door closed behind you. Finally, safe. You took out your phone to let your friend know you were leaving.

“Y/n!” Suguru called out as he plopped down in your passenger seat, scaring a squeal out of you. What the fuck?!  

“Get out you bastard!” You yelled at him.

“I just want to talk!” He said back, not yelling, but definitely talking louder than he normally did.

“You’ve fucking lost it Geto!” You matched his tone, “This is breaking and entering!”

“I’m pretty sure that only applies to buildings, Gorgeous.” He grinned, and it was so charming you almost forgot you hated him. 

“Don’t call me gorgeous!” You hissed, “I have nothing to say to you!”

“I have so much to say to you though!”

“Too bad, get out of my car!”

“Give me five minutes!”

“No! I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive like this Y/n! You’re drunk.” You started to yell a comeback, but realized you didn’t have one. He was right. You were starting to feel the drinks of the nights, and we're definitely not good to drive. 

“Then I’ll walk home!” You scoffed. And he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. 

“No you won’t.” He chuckled, “You live too far away. Plus, you would never leave your car unattended at a frat party.” He was right again. You hated how well he knew you. “Let me drive you.” He offered.

“No. you’re drunk too.” you scoffed.

“Am not,” He informed you, “I just got here.”

“Then what the fuck compelled you to just…get into my fucking car?” You asked, still flabbergasted by the audacity. The Suguru you knew would never have done that. He fumbled, looking for an answer. Truth was, he didn’t know why he did it either. 

“I miss you Y/n.” was the best he could offer. You sighed, a deep sigh that felt like it was pulled straight out of your sorrow and you threw your head back onto your headrest. You stared at the roof of your car. This was a bad idea. Suguru came with far too many emotions. Wounds that had barely had time to scab over were ripping open in real time, bigger than they ever were before. 

If you were smart, you would have gotten out of the car. You would have found Gojo to have him collect Suguru, and found your friend to have them drive you home. Or at least have them call you a cab. If you were smart, you would have told him to leave you the fuck alone. You would have saved your heart the extra heart break. You would have forced yourself to remember all the fighting that led you to where you were now, the pain, the heartbreak, the neglect. 

But, you weren’t feeling particularly bright that night. And all you could remember was the soft Suguru. The one that held you close at night, and asked before he kissed you. The one that took you out on late night dates in famous cemeteries cause he read it in a romance novel and thought it was just oh so romantic. You sighed and handed him your keys.

He gave a far too enthusiastic Yes! As the two of you changed seats. You settled into the passenger seat, already regretting your decision. You buckled up as he started the car.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, looking at you. You returned the look, though yours was laced with far more annoyance. 

“I’m annoyed.” you respond. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying, food would be nice. Would probably help you avoid a hangover too.” A hangover sounded like a nightmare. Once again, you relented. 

“Fine, but you’re paying.” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said, pulling out to the street. He turned up the radio, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the song. Everlong, by the Foo Fighters. It made you smile too. Suddenly, you weren’t in your car anymore. You were sitting on Toji Zenins couch, nervously fiddling with your hands as he weighed out an ounce of weed. He’d been your plug for a few weeks at that point, but you still hadn’t grown used to his aura. 

You jumped when there was a knock at his door, and he looked just as confused before a realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit. I think I okay-ed two people to come over on accident.” he laughed to himself. “Hope that's okay Y/n.” he said, going to get the door. It wasn’t, you wanted to leave. But, you didn’t say that. Sometimes you wished you did. 

“Heyy! Weedman!” You heard a now familiar, but then utterly unrecognizable voice. “Thanks for covering me on such short no- Oh, hello!” Gojo said as he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting awkwardly on the couch. Suguru was behind him, quietly observing you. He smiled softly, raising his hand in a wave. His long black hair perfectly framed his sculpted face. His kind eyes seemed mismatched with his almost mischievous smile. You couldn't help but be sucked into his orbit. You smiled gently and waved back. 

“Hi.” before you knew it, Suguru was sitting next to you while Gojo rambled about..something. Honestly, he was always rambling about something. You don’t know why you didn’t leave after you got your weed. Maybe it was because Toji offered to smoke with the three of you to apologize for double booking, maybe it was because Geto kept managing to catch your eye. Either way, the two of you hadn’t really spoken, Toji and Satoru speaking enough for both of you. 

Suguru passed a joint to you as Everlong came on the radio. Toji grimace. “Man, this song is shit.” He said, going to turn it off.

“Watch yourself Zenin,” Suguru said, pointing at Toji and stopping him in his tracks. “This songs hot as fuck, disrespect it again and we’re gonna have a problem.” You really liked Sugurus' voice. 

“Chillax man, this songs not worth trippin’ over.” Toji scoffed, “Especially considering it’s not good.”

“I like it.” You said, the weed making you feel bolder than usual. “I really like the Foo Fighters.”

“Not you too Y/n.” Toji groaned, finally stepping away from the stereo. Suguru looked at you and grinned. It made butterflies explode in your stomach.

“I knew you had taste.” He praised. It was the first thing he had ever said to you. 

“Here.” Suguru said, handing you your drink and jerking you off of memory lane. You grabbed the drink and thanked him. You realized the two of you were parked now. You looked at the burger he handed you and smiled. 

“You remember my order.” You commented. He scoffed as if that was almost insulting.

“Of course I do. I remember everything about you.” He muttered. The two of you started to eat, a pregnant silence filling the car. That pregnant silence, then gave birth to many other smaller but just as intense silences. Blink 182 played softly in the background, but no matter how many times Mark Hoppus asked what his age was, it didn’t cut through the awkwardness in that car. 

“Look, Y/n, I know I-” Suguru started. Rage and despair welled up inside of you.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Geto.” You said very bluntly, finishing your fries. 

“But I-” he started, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to push his already unbelievable luck. But someone had to say something. He smiled softly to himself. “Hey, do you remember when the Red Hot Chili Peppers dropped By The Way-”

“Album or song?” You cut him off to ask.

“Album,” He clarified, “And we raided 7/11 and drove around all night, listening to it on repeat.” You laughed because you did remember that. You remembered it like it was yesterday. You could still taste the blue slushy on your tongue as you tried desperately to analyze lyrics while Suguru insisted The Red Hot Chili Peppers were not the kinda band you analyze the lyrics too, they’re the band you get high to. 

Still, you remembered getting goosebumps the first time you heard Midnights, the opening verse of “Things will never be the same/Still I'm awfully glad I came/Resonating in the shape of things to come/Never waiting when I know there's only one” Speaking to your soul in ways you didn’t quite understand then, but felt like you did now. 

“Yea, I remember,” You giggled, “I think there's still a stain on my seat from you getting mustard on it.” You said, searching for said blemish, “Yea! There it is, right there!” The permanent mark he left in your car. 

“Hey, it is not my fault that you can't eat 7/11 hot dogs without mustard.” He laughed.

“No, but it is your fault you couldn't keep it on your dog, you dog!” You teased.

“I blame Anthony Kiedis.” He grinned with a shrug. This was nice. This felt like old times. This felt like the moments where he was actually him. 

“I think that album’s still in my car.” you muttered. 

One whirlwind later and you were getting slurpees at 7/11, the cashier looking at the two of you with disdain as you laughed and made a mess of the machine he just cleaned. Blue for you, red for him, just like it had always been. Suguru had to grab sour gummy worms and twizzlers. He still couldn’t leave a convenience store without them. He didn’t even like twizzlers, not really. It just ‘felt right’ to grab them. Whatever that means.

You were looking through your CD case when suddenly, he stopped you.

“We got to listen to a different album.” He said out of nowhere.

“What?” You scoffed.

“We can’t try to recreate the magic of the By The Way album release. It would be disingenuous.” He insisted.

“I thought that was the whole point!” You argued, before groaning. “Ugh, Fine! Umm…” You shuffled through CDs. “Fall Out Boy just released an album.”

“Who?” He asked, squinting his eyes in confusion. 

“They’re a new band out of Chicago. This is their debut studio album, it’s called Take This To Your Grave.” you said, holding up the blue jeweled case. Suguru looked…hurt. Like the cavalry had come and made it their personal mission to trample him into the dust.

“You’ve been listening to new bands without me?” He asked, starting the car. That bitter taste of resentment filled your mouth again.

“Well, yea. Life didn’t end because we did.” Besides, this album had been helping you more than you were willing to admit. He nodded in defeat, biting his lip as the two of you pulled onto the road.

“Play it.” he muttered. You didn’t know if you were thrilled with or deeply regretted your decision to play this album, but the opening verse was cutting. Light that smoke, Yeah, one for giving up on me/ And one just 'cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations/ To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar)/ I could have died with you.

“Well fuck Y/n, Is there something you’d like to say to me?” He tried to laugh, but the humor didn’t make it to his voice. “Feels a little targeted.” you shrugged.

“We all cope in different ways.” you muttered. You thought back on your relationship. A backseat romance that belonged to parking lots and famous cemeteries. A relationship that existed on highways and at dingy basement shows, and always on his terms. It was fun at first, even you had to admit. And, maybe it could have stayed as just fun, if he wasn’t so fucking…sweet! He was always so tender with you in the afterglow of your nights together, even if that just met cleaning you up with fast food napkins in his back seat. He was a cuddler too, insisting on you staying the night with him after your nights together under the guise of it being late, when you both knew it was so the two of you could hold each other.

It wasn’t just the after care though, or the sex for that matter. It was him bringing you candy and setting up a movie marathon when he knew you were struggling with your classes. It was him giving you a copy of Rebecca that he annotated because he wanted to share his thoughts with you about it. It was him giving you a copy of The Color and the Shape album because it had Everlong on it, and that was “Our Song” according to him. How could you not have fallen in love?

It started to hurt. That he was so willing to be so sweet and tender with you behind closed doors, but the moment you wanted to be something more, he froze. Suddenly, he didn't know why you guys needed to put a label on things! You guys were having fun, why did you want to mess up ‘the dynamic’ whatever the fuck that ment. Yea, he was fun. But you were tired of being just another hook up in a dingy venue bathroom. Absolutely sick of having to sneak out of his bedroom window, because his roommates would start asking questions if they saw you there for the fourth time that week. He constantly promised he was going to make things official, he just needed time. But, it wasn’t like you were asking him to fucking marry you, just to change your fucking title and maybe take you out on a real date every once in awhile.

Doubts started to fill your head. There had to be a reason he wouldn’t commit to you, right? Was it another girl? Was something wrong with you? It all came to a head six months ago. The two of you were laying in his bed, Crestfallen by The Smashing Pumpkins softly playing in the background as the two of you shared a cigarette, pleasure still throbbing between your legs as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He purred, gently petting your head. You hummed in response, not really believing it at this point. He picked up on your doubt, “I’m serious.” he doubled down. “You’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever been with.” He chuckled.

“That so?” You asked, taking the cigarette from him, “Then why aren’t I your girlfriend?” you asked, blowing smoke in his face. He grimaced as he waved it away.

“We’re doing this again? Seriously?” he seemed so…annoyed. Like this whole conversation equated to a nat he couldn’t quite seem to swat. 

“No.” you shut down, “We’re not.”

“Good.” he said, taking the smoke back, “I’ve told you before, we’re perfect as we are.”

“Perfect for you maybe.”

“Y/n.”

“What? You can’t seriously be shocked I don’t agree with you.” you scoffed, rage starting to bubble in your stomach.

“I’m not shocked. I just don’t get it. What could you possibly get out of a title that’s worth all of the fighting you’re doing for it?” you could feel yourself seething, your blood boiling over. Did he ever listen to you?

“Well, for starters I’d get the safety of knowing that you probably weren't out sleeping around with anyone willing to open their legs for you.” It was Getos turn to seethe. You could tell by the way his jaw clenched that you had struck a nerve deep inside him.

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing in my free time? Just fucking anyone and everyone? That I’m so pussy motivated I just can’t keep it in my pants? Well if that's the case, Babe,” The word ‘Babe” had never sounded so dirty. You would have rather he called you slut, bitch, dumbass, anything. “What makes you think that having a “GiRlFrIeNd is going to magically make me loyal? Huh? What then, Gorgeous? And, not to be that guy, but you’ve let me fuck you in just about every venue, parking lot, and random bedroom this town has to offer, and I’m not even your boyfriend. So who’s to say you’re going to keep your legs shut just because we’re official, huh Sweetheart?” 

Suguru could make you feel on top of the world, or cheaper than dirt depending on his mood. That was the problem with English majors. They had a way with words and more often than not they used them for evil. Any heat you had left drained from your body, replaced only with an inescapable emptiness as you realized the Suguru you convinced yourself was next to you may not have even existed. 

And Geto knew he fucked up. He regretted the words as they were spilling out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself and he couldn’t put them back now. The silence was heavy with all the words the two of you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t.

“Y/n-” Geto started, hand reaching for your shoulder, but all it did was break you out of your daze. You snapped, slapping his hand away as you got up and dressed.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

“Y/n, wait, please, I didn’t mean that-” He struggled to defend himself, hurriedly putting on his pants. 

“You fucking said it Suguru! Lose my goddamn number, I am so fucking done here. It’s so good to know i’m just a fucking fleshlight to you.” you hissed, rushing out of his room.

“I never said that Y/n! You mean so much more to me than that, don’t go!-” he said, following you out.

“Clearly I fucking don’t!” You snapped. Oh good. His roommates, Satoru and Sukuna, were both sitting in the living room. 

“Yes you do Y/n, I love you!” He pleaded. He had never said that before. Satoru audibly gasped. Your entire body seized and seethed. You turned around and smacked him across the face without thinking, making Sukuna laugh,

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again Suguru Geto.”

“I’m not lying Y/n-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off. “I don’t fucking care anymore. You are the worst mistake I have ever fucking made.” You wanted to sound intimidating, but the tears in your voice gave you away. You rushed out of the door before he could see you cry, almost laughing at the “Have a good night!” Sukuna threw your way as you did. 

The sound of a car door closing snapped you out of your day dream. You were at another convenience store. When did you get here? Suguru had just plopped in the seat next to you, handing you a bag. 

“Hold these for me, will you, beautiful?” He asked. You did as he asked, looking into the bag.

“Suguru, these are four lokos.” You pointed out. 

“Yep. best flavors too.” While you may agree with the green apple, he also had a gold flavored one, which was just objectively wrong. Not the point.

“Dude, these will fuck you up, what do you think you’re doing?” You asked as he pulled into a park less than a block away from your apartment. The two of you had spent many a night here on the swings.

“Trying to get fucked up, duh.” He laughed as he took the bag. He handed you the green apple flavored can of death. You sighed as you took it, getting out of the car and moving to sit on the hood with him. You noticed he had turned off the CD, Like a Stone now drifting softly from your car speakers. You wondered when he finally gave up on it. You finally opened the green camo can, and winced as the drink electrocuted your now sober nervous system. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the alcohol saturated your systems. You wondered why you were here with him. What kept you coming back to Suguru Geto. Why couldn’t you just move on? Suddenly, you felt it in your bones when Chris Cornell groaned out “In your house, I long to be/ Room by Room, patiently/ I’ll wait for you there/ Like a stone” 

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the silence. Your head whipped over to him. He was staring up at the stars. He looked so delicate in that moment. Like a gust of wind would shatter him into stardust. 

“What for?” You thought you knew, but you had to hear him say it.

“Everything.” Oh god, there were tears in his voice. It made you put down your four loko. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said to you the last time I saw you. I’m sorry I just tried to call instead of coming to face you, like a coward. And I’m sorry I couldn’t just man the fuck up and make you my girlfriend.” The words were tumbling out of him faster than he could process them, leaving him more vulnerable and honest than he would have liked.

It shook you. You weren't prepared for him to be so vulnerable with you that night. “It’s fine Suguru.” You muttered. He laughed and shook his head, finally looking at you.

“No it’s not. I hurt you.” He said matter of factly. “And then, I doubled down on it to make it all worse.” you were silent for a moment, staring at your dirty converse.

“W…why were you so against being with me officially?” You finally asked the question that had been weighing heavy on you for so long now. 

“I was scared.” He finally admitted. “I was so scared that if we put a label on it, things would change. That suddenly we wouldn’t be hanging out because we liked to be with each other anymore, that we’d just be doing it out of obligation.”

“Suguru, that's dumb.” You sighed, the booze making you a little more blunt that you otherwise would have been.

“I know that.” He laughed, bringing his knees to his chest. “I just…I don’t know. I thought if I kept you at an arm's length, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. There would be that space. But, I don’t know how to keep you at an arm's length. You’re like my favorite song, you get stuck in my head and I don’t even want to get you out. I just want you closer. So, I thought I’d maintain that space by just…not labeling us. And that clearly did more harm than good. When you left, I tried to just…let you go” he sighed, leaning back against the windshield of your car. He looked at you with love and adoration glimmering in his eyes. 

“I figured it was better that way, I tried to forget you. Yea, turns out that's a lot easier said than done. God, I can’t even think about listening to the Foo Fighters anymore. Which, Fucking Sucks because Everywhere But Here just dropped and I can’t bring myself to listen to it because you’re not there.” he laughed at his own stupidity, his palm meeting his forehead. He still couldn’t believe it took him losing you to realize how much you met. How cliche. 

You felt a lump in your throat. You had been wanting to listen to that album too, but couldn’t without him. It didn’t feel right. It felt like cheating. It was why you had picked up the fall out boy album instead. “You know,” You started, “You really hurt me. Like, you really fucking hurt me Suguru.”

“I know-” He sighed.

“But.” You cut him off, “I’ve also been a mess without you. It’s weird. You don’t really know how much you care about something until you’re missing it. And I thought I really cared about you even before the breakup.” You half chuckled to yourself. “And I mean, I want to still be mad about the fight. I want to hold it over your head. I wish I could hate you even half as much as I hate myself. But, I just can’t. I miss you.” you sighed, feeling foolish.

Suguru suddenly placed his hand on top of yours, pulling you out of your spiral. “I miss you too.” He confessed. Followed by a pause. “It’s not too late for us, ya know.” He finally said. “I’d really love to make you my girlfriend Y/n.”

🎵🎵🎵

Laughter filled the air as the two of you walked to your apartment building, deciding it was best to leave the car after the two of you had downed the alcoholic energy drinks. Buzzing with booze and caffeine was a different type of feeling. “Well, this is mine.” You smiled as the two of you walked up to your door.

“Sure is” Geto nodded, “Mind if I come in?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden gentlemanly persona. 

“Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Not the whole time but it was definitely the end goal.” He admitted, and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from embarrassment or alcohol. 

“And what was your plan if I said no?” You teased.

“Well, plan B was to see if you’d at least let me come in while I waited for Satoru to come pick me up.” He admitted. He really was one step ahead. 

“And if I said no to that?”

“Then I’d have one hell of a walk on my hands.” He laughed. You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. His laugh had always been infections. 

“Well, I’d hate to make you walk.” You chuckled as you unlocked your door, the two of you tumbling inside. In true Suguru fashion, he went straight to the stereo system in your room, looking to see what album you had been listening to. About a Girl filled the air of your small apartment. You chuckled softly as you joined him in your room. Of course he would play a CD he burned for you. 

You took a moment to actually take him in. mesh top clinging to his arms, an Alice in Chains shirt covering up the real action. His hair was messy from the walk, half up half down, and he now sported a slight stubble he hadn’t during your relationship. He looked good. He turned to look at you, dark eyes softening as he smiled softly.

“What?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Nothing.” you shrugged.

“Oh, so you wanna just keep eye fucking me? Ok, cool just making sure.” He laughed.

“And what's wrong with wanting to do that?” you laughed. He turned and smirked at you, moving to close the space.

“Why fuck me with your eyes when you could just fuck me?” He asked, a line you 're sure sounded way smoother in his head. You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yea, real smooth there Cruzan Cassanova, you-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Sugurus mouth had connected with you, the taste of pineapple alcohol and cigarettes mixing on your tongue. You melted into him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair. You felt your pulse quicken as the kiss heated up, the drinks of the night combining with his presence to make your head spin. He bit your lip, using the small gasp you let out as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

God, you missed him. Your body cleared up any doubt, if there was any, in that fact with the way it immediately reacted to him. You felt his hands start to wander, moving down your spine to grab your ass. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your body tensed as you felt his hand slip under the waistband of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Look at you princess,” He pulled back to smirk, lust filling his eyes, “Already soaking wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.” He never missed an opportunity to be condescending in bed, did he?

“Get fucked Suguru.” You groaned, your hips involuntary bucking into his hand as he pressed too fingers into your folds. You needed more.

“I assure you, I’m trying.” He grinned, removing his hand and making you almost scream in frustration. He kissed you before you could get a word in about how insufferable he could be. “I’m gonna take care of you Princess, don’t worry.” He assured you as he took your top off, “But it’s been awhile since I’ve been with my favorite girl. And I want to enjoy it.” he purred.

You weren’t sure how, but at some point he had gotten you on your bed and was taking off your pants. “Hey, no fair!” you panted as you realize. He paused what he was doing to look at you quizzically, trying to figure out when he had been anything other than fair. 

“You’re completely dressed and I’m basically naked.” You clarified sheepishly. Suguru held back a laugh at how cute you were. He finished his task, then took off his ratty band shirt.

“Better?” He asked. You felt like you were going to burn from the inside out as you looked at him. The mesh perfectly outlining every bump and crevice of his perfect body. Greek gods wished they looked like him. You nodded.

“Much.” you said as Suguru dragged you to the edge of the bed. You felt needy and helpless under him. He dropped to his knees in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs with intent to bruise. More than once he ghosted himself right where you needed him the most, filling you with frustration. “Suguru please..” You moaned out.

“Please what Princess?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“Please Sug, I need you to touch me.” You begged.

“But I am touching you Darling.” You almost kicked him.

“Suguru Please!” You begged.

“Princess, you can’t already be fucked stupid. I’ve barely touched you, Pretty-”

“Yea, that’s the problem!” you whined. He chuckled darkly at your pain, but relented.

“Where do you want me Princess? Right here?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your clothes core. Your breath hitched and you nodded frantically.

“Use your words Babygirl, you know the rules.” You took a deep breath.

“Yes, please Sir, I want you to play with my pussy.” You felt red hot saying all of those things out loud, but god the look in his eyes was fucking worth it. He was taking off your panties in an instant, marveling at the sting of slick that connected you to them until it snapped. 

“Fucking Christ.” He moaned to himself, one of his hands going to grind on his hard cock. “I’ve barely fucking touched you and you’re fucking gushing.” He chuckled, his hands finally moving to where you needed him to be. The moan you let out as his fingers finally found your clit was embarrassing. “Can anyone else do this to you Doll?” you shook your head almost violently.

“No, no sir. No one but you.” You panted softly, getting lost in the bliss currently filling your bloodstream. Shit, you 're not going to last long. 

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled darkly, two fingers abruptly darting into your cunt and making your entire body tense. “My slutty girl only puts out like this for me, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” he said, rewarding you with a third finger. You gasped at the feeling, your soaking pussy taking anything it could get and more. He curled his fingers, sending a rush of electric endorphins through your body as he graced your g-spot. You moaned out his name, your hands curling into your sheets. 

“Just out of curiosity, what have you been doing for six months without me?” His eyes were dark, letting you know he wasn’t just asking what new books you’d read.

“Thought of you.” You moaned, a tight knot forming in your stomach. 

“Oh?” He asked, pausing his actions. He wanted details.

“I thought about you fucking me.” Right answer, he started moving again, “I thought about how good your cock stretched me out, and how good it felt inside me. I pretended it was you fucking me whenever I used my toys, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing feels like you do Sug,” You moaned out your sloppy confessional. His thumb had found your clit and was massaging it in time with his relentless fingers. His free hand groping himself through his jeans, needed even an ounce of friction. “I’m so fucking close..”

“You’re goddamn right nothing feels like Me princess.” he groaned to distract himself, least he cum in his jeans like a fucking teenager. You felt yourself speeding off a cliff, his words only aiding in pressing the accelerator. “You think a fucking toy could make you feel even an ounce of what I make you feel? That's naive at best Darling. You’re fucking mine nothing and no one is ever going to make you feel the way that I do. Cum for me Princess.”

A few strokes later and you came hard on his fingers, pussy clenching around him in beautiful ways. Suguru didn’t know if he wanted to watch your cunt or your face, but it didn't matter really. He didn’t plan on letting up anytime soon. He finger fucked you through your high, removing his fingers only after you had semi-calmed down. 

He moved over you, slipping his fingers into your mouth which you gladly cleaned off for him, always eager to show him how good you were. You pulled off with a loud pop, looking at him with doe eyes for approval. You assumed he approved, because he was very quickly freeing himself of his tripp pants and boxers with the efficiency only a mall goth could ever possess. He was in between your legs before you had even fully processed what was going on.

He leaned down to leave rough kisses on your neck, the blissful pain of the bruises forming almost distracted you from the feeling of his cock pushing into your soaking wet cum. Almost. Nothing could ever fully distract you from the euphoria of Suguru Getos cock stretching you out in ways only he could. You moaned out his name, hands flying to claw at his back through the mesh shirt. 

He faltered, letting out a shaking breath as he felt your warmth for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “Fuck Y/n. I swear to whatever god there is this pussy was fucking made for me.” He said through a breathy laugh, pulling back just to push back in, stroking your g-spot beautifully and earning himself an embarrassing moan from you.

“So fucking good for me.” he groaned. Every stroke of his hips sent a new wave of electricity through your core, your body reacting to his every move and begging him for more. If Suguru Geto was a drug you were an addict. The pleasure sent your head swirling and your nerves on fire. 

“God you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, “I can’t fucking believe you forgot you we’re mine.” He said, his movements suddenly becoming rougher, forcing you to yelp out his name. “You tried to leave me and then couldn’t even get yourself off Doll, it’s almost cute.” He mocked. “You’re mine do you understand? This cunt belongs to me, Do you get that?” you nodded, trying desperately to take in all his words while the coil in your stomach began to tighten again. He had never been so possessive before. 

“Answer me Slut.” He demanded with a rough buck of his hips. You nodded violently.

“Yes! Yes Sir.” You groaned. You wouldn't argue even if you could have. 

“Say it.” He demanded, “Say my name, say you belong to me.”

“I’m all yours Suguru, You’re and only yours. I’ll never leave again.” You said, your second climax coming on faster than you would have liked. Every stroke of his hips hit your g-spot dead on. He really did know your body better than anyone else.

“Damn right you won’t.” He groaned, his hind falling between your bodies to massage circles into your clit. Your entire body tensed with pleasure as you started to come undone again.

“Sug-”

“I know.” There was no mistaking the way your pussy fluttered around him. He knew you were close. “Cum on me, cum on cock.” You didn’t need to be asked twice. A few more strokes of his dick and you were coming undone all over it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum Princess.” He said darkly, somehow picking up his pace. He wasn;t worried about your pleasure anymore, you got yours. He wanted his. And you felt so good around him, warm and velvety. He could stay in between your legs forever and be happy. He moved your legs over his shoulders, managing to fuck you even deeper than he was before. Your overstimulated moans only adding fuel to his fire. 

“You’re so pretty whenyou’re fucked out, you know that?” He said, condescension dripping from his voice. “So fucking pretty, You’re gonna look even better with my cum dripping out of your pussy, you know that?” The way you moaned and the way you clenched around him was enough to send him over the edge, filling you to the brim and somehow still finding the energy to fuck some of it back into you before collasping onto you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him inside of you and holding you close to him. You felt more thankful than ever to be on the pill as you played with his soft hair.

“I…is fucking Closer playing? Nine Inch Nails?” You asked, suppressing a laugh as you tuned into the song. Suguru lifted up his head to listen, laughing as he registered Trent Reznors distorted growl. 

“Oh my god, I think it is.” He laughed, “I forgot this was on here.”

“Helluva song to hook up to.” You laughed. He nodded in agreement. 

“Yea, definitely not the best for a hookup. But maybe not bad for a round two?”

[reasonsmandy]

With love, Eddie Roundtree

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — saw you're taking requests for eddie roundtree x reader so i wanted to ask if you could do something inspired by either tear in my heart (twenty one pilots) or lets fall in love for the night (finneas)!! love ur writing btw!!

✧.* you're reading part one, here's the sequel — Dear Eddie Roundtree

✧.* summary — Your life in the acting business has been very stressful, but in one night Eddie makes you forget about it all.

✧.* warnings — Extremely fluffy content, mentions of drinking and drugs.

✧.* word count — 2.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I tried to mix a little bit of the two songs, I don't know if I managed to do something very good. but i hope you like it 🫶🏾

"We'll send Harold to your set more often, the gossip magazines will start planting the idea that you two are together." Your manager said excitedly, he insisted on the idea that you should fake a relationship with actor Harold Schmidt. "I can already see the headlines: Y/N L/N and Harold Schmidt the Hollywood lovebirds"

"That would be the most ridiculous thing I've ever read!" You say rolling your eyes with a glass of water in hand.

"Well, I don't care!" Your manager says, getting a little mad. "You know you need these rumors to boost your name, and you're lucky that Harold agreed to fake this relationship with you."

"I don't need anyone to get my name to boost Adam!" You say irritably. "And besides, no one will believe I have something with this guy, we never talked before!"

"Stop making things more complicated Y/N." He says. "You know it's going to be the best for your career, now rest … tomorrow we have recording early"

He leaves you alone in your apartment, you put your face to the pillow and let out a scream in it. Being an actress was amazing, but there were things that frustrated you a lot in the profession like what you were experiencing now, you had never exchanged a word with this Harold guy and now you had to pretend to be madly in love with him for everyone. Just thinking about it sounded crazy.

Despite all this fake dating mess Adam wanted to shove you down into, you couldn't stop thinking about what happened a few days ago. You received an invitation to attend the party of the band Daisy Jones and the six. It was a really fun night where you finally managed to distract yourself a little and it was also the night you met Eddie Roundtree, one of the nicest people you've come in contact with in such a long time.

Let's say you had gotten along quite well…

You weren't really in the mood to leave your apartment, but you felt that if you stayed another two hours listening to your manager talk about absurd things about how you should fake a scandal for your name to go up you would go crazy. So when Daisy Jones' invitation reached you, you thought: Why not?

Which was exactly why you were now in Billy Dunne's backyard, having a beer and smoking a joint. Nothing very interesting seemed to happen around you and there wasn't anyone very interesting to talk to.

Well, at least the music is good... You thought.

As you traveled in your thoughts and watched the unknown people around you, Eddie Roundtree watched you too, he stared at you trying to remember where he knew you from.

"I'm telling you man, she must have stopped by the studio sometime." Warren says to the bassist.

"I'm sure that's not it, otherwise I wouldn't remember her" Eddie says frustrated.

"Eddie, man!" Warren changed his expression, he looked amazed at something. "Rollerball!!! She was in the Rollerball movie!"

"Holy shit, that was it! I knew I knew her somewhere." Eddie beams, overjoyed that he finally remembered. "I didn't remember she was so beautiful, man…"

"Go talk to her!" The drummer says, pushing his friend towards the actress.

You notice the two best friends laughing and pointing in your direction, not understanding you turn to look behind you but no one was there. You arch your eyebrows hoping they'll notice that you saw them, which takes a few minutes to happen.

The blonde approaches you, with a smile on his face and two beers in his hand. He sits down next to you, handing you the drink.

"I have a challenge for you." he says, catching your attention. "Tell me a song you like and if I get a part of the lyrics right, you spend the night talking to me."

"Look, I didn't even need the challenge, I really would have talked to you without a problem" You say laughing. "But since you offered…"

Eddie Roundtree: I was so lucky that Camila showed me this song *chuckled*

Y/N L/N: He had changed 50% of the words in the song but he seemed like a nice guy, so I pretended he got it right.

"Y/N that's my name" you say while taking a sip of beer "You are?"

"I'm Eddie" he smiles, taking a closer look at your face.

You spent a few hours talking about everything, it was impressive how he managed to talk about any subject you proposed. He really seemed to be interested in what you had to say, something you missed. You told him that since you moved to Los Angeles you haven't been to any of the tourist spots in the area, which he found absurd, and that's why you were in Roundtree's car going through the city streets with no final destination.

"I can't believe we're doing this" you laugh at the situation, probably the beers you had had made you a little happy. "I don't even know you well and I'm in your car going to unknown places."

"Ouch!" He pretends to be offended. "I told you my whole life tonight, what do you mean you don't know me?"

"Oh yes, of course I apologize" You laugh looking deep into his eyes, something inside you wanted to be closer to him.

"Wanna get a swim?" he says, parking the car close to the beach, you could hear the waves from afar.

"That's a terrible idea..." You say getting out of the car, alarmed he gets out too. "I'm in!"

You take off your shoes leaving them near the car, running wildly towards the dark sea. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, taking his shoes off and chasing after you, or at least trying to.

You wait for him where you could just feel the water on your feet, he approaches holding you by the waist and going with you into the sea. Would it be crazy to feel so connected to someone in one night? You didn't know, and you didn't care! When the icy water came into contact with your body and his body heat kept that feeling more intense, nothing else mattered.

Trying to fix the locks of your hair, you looked at him in disbelief with everything you were experiencing that night, it's been so long since you've felt alive like this, free from any pressure.

"I feel like I've known you since forever, Eddie Roundtree." You whisper, kissing the blonde's lips intensely.

He holds you tighter, as if he wants to remember this moment forever, the fear of forgetting what he was experiencing in the morning was intense. After all, with all that they had both smoked and drunk, it was probably that the passion, that love, would fade from their memories during their rest until tomorrow.

The early morning wind hits your bodies making you shiver with cold. You soon decided it was better to get back in the car and go somewhere else. Eddie didn't care that the car would be wet because of your clothes, nothing else mattered to him, that night was so intense and wonderful that he just wanted to stop time to have you there with him a little more.

And logically, after smoking so much, the munchies hit, so nothing more plausible than changing your destination to the nearest bar. It was hard to find anything open at that hour, but after several turns you finally managed to spot one.

There were just the two of you and one other man who was clearly begging for you two to leave as soon as possible, so he could get to sleep.

"I don't think I'll remember anything tomorrow, my head is already exploding" You say, drinking some of the juice you ordered.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, stroking your hand across the table.

"Uhum" You mumbled, and he could tell that you were getting tired and needed some sleep. "But don't worry, I promise you that if I forget about you tomorrow I at least fell in love with you tonight."

Your words made him feel butterflies in his stomach, he looked at you with affection and without containing the smile that grew on his face. He didn't want to settle for the idea that he wouldn't see you anymore.

"Did you fall in love with me too Eddie Roundtree?" You say sleepily, slurring your words as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"I for sure did, Y/N L/N." He says, getting up to pay the bill. A few seconds later he comes back. "Can you tell me where you live? I will drop you off at home."

"No please, I want to spend more time with you." You whisper, closing your eyes with long blinks.

"I promise you will see me again" He says, stroking your hair. "Now tell me pretty girl, where can I drop you off?"

You tell the bassist the address of your apartment, so soon after he takes you to the car trying his best to avoid making you feel the wind with wet clothes, afraid you might catch the flu or something.

As the sun slowly rose, you fell asleep in the passenger seat. Roundtree slowed the car down so as not to wake you up with the potholes in the road leading to your house. Admiring you in the moments when he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road, a smile appears on the blonde's face as he observes how much prettier you look with the sunlight on you.

He wakes you up when he arrives at the scene, you mumble something he doesn't understand and you hide your face in his neck, he feels butterflies in his stomach with the contact and already misses you when he finally has to say goodbye.

"So I think that's it…" Eddie said, holding your hands. "Take care, pretty girl".

"You too baby." You place a peck on the blonde's lips, then hug him for a few seconds. "You better not forget me huh."

"How could I?" He smiles, letting go of your hands. "I'll see you."

"I hope so." you say, walking into your apartment and soon falling asleep on the couch.

…

The sun was already setting and you were ready to spend the rest of the night watching anything on television. When Adam shows up opening your door like he has an emergency going on.

"Adam what the fuck!" You exclaim, trying to calm down from the fright, he came in with a box in his hands and a magazine in the other. "What the hell is going on?"

"Y/N L/N you naughty girl, if you were dating you should just have told me!" He says sitting next to you, handing you the magazine. "Now it makes sense why you rejected my fake dating idea"

The magazine had a picture of you in a bar, an orange juice in front of you. You had the straw between your teeth smiling at the man in front of you. Your hair was wet and your clothes looked soaked too, as did the man in front of you in the photo, Eddie. He was looking at you with a smile, his eyes were closed if you looked fast, but as you knew that smile very well you knew that when he smiles his eyes shrink. The headline read: Y/N L/N and Eddie Roundtree the romance of the Stars.

You quickly open to the indicated page to read what it said.

Sub Rosa

AUGUST 9, 1977

Eddie Roundtree and Y/N L/N! they are the definition of a star couple

No, your eyes are not deceiving you! Last night after one of the parties given by rock star Billy Dunne, our Hollywood star Y/N L/N was seen with the bassist of Daisy Jones and the six: Eddie Roundtree, leaving the party.

The charming bassist was rumored to have been with L/N throughout the event and he was even seen with our favorite actress in a bar a few hours after the party. Although this is the first time we've seen these lovebirds in public together, you must agree that they make a great couple.

Would that be the end of Y/N's single life?

You finish reading in disbelief, bursting out with a hearty laugh at the last sentence.

"They basically called me a spinster!" You say when you're done laughing, taking a breath to compose yourself. "Look, me and Eddie we-"

You are interrupted by Adam again, who hands you the box he had in his hands when he entered. Curious you take it, seeing a note on top that you decide to read later, inside the box there was a cassette tape, a rose and a napkin with a phone number.

You are still confused and decide to read the note.

Hey pretty girl, I hope you're doing well.

As I promised you, through these things I decided to earnestly ask you to let me have more wonderful nights by your side.

On the tape you'll find my attempt to sing that song you told me you loved, the rose is for pure chivalry and the phone number, well... I think that's clear.

I hope to hear your voice soon…

With love, Eddie Roundtree.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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[thevampiremarie]

treehouse 🔞 (also available on ao3)

tags: smut, pregnancy, 🔞, mental illness, trauma, eventual happy ending

Dream of the Endless | Lord Morpheus x reader

It's a common story; you meet a tall, dark, and handsome man outside of a club and take him home that night. When he leaves, you don't think you'll ever see him again.

Now, what's less common is what happens a couple of weeks later, when you realize you're pregnant. But you only know his name, if that even is his real name: "Dream".

What exactly are you going to do now?

(title from the song Treehouse by Alex G) (originally posted on AO3)

You don’t usually do this kind of thing.

‘Thing’ here refers to venturing out of your apartment, alone, dressed to the nines and in search of trouble. The kind of thing that every other twenty-something you know does on a regular basis.

But it’s always been too hard for you to gather up the energy for such an effort. Depression can do that.

Tonight, though, you’re trying, even though you’re definitely the only person in this club without anyone else to accompany them.

The party feels like something out of that new Batman movie; bass reverberating through the soles of your sneakers and smoke curling through the air, heavy-fingered and tinged blood red from the colored lights.

You had choked down a panic attack on the walk from the train to the club, only making it down those few blocks of sidewalk by reminding yourself that you can leave whenever it stops being fun, over and over.

The ice in your drink is fully melted and in the whole hour you’ve wandered around, you’ve really only spoken to the very pretty bartender. She complimented your dress, and you would’ve complimented her eyes in return, but you’re aware that she was only being polite and doing her job.

Without much fanfare, you abandon your glass filled halfway with water and halfway with vodka sour next to all the other discarded glasses. This has officially stopped being fun, though whether or not it was ever fun to begin with is up for debate, and you take that as your cue to dip.

Once you’re outside, the cool air a pleasant balm on your sweat-sticky cheeks, you quickly snag a cigarette out of the carton in your purse. A raven watches you struggle to light it.

He’s a curious bird, calm as any human, and you win the staring contest between the two of you. When he cocks his head at the sound of your laughter, you swear he can practically understand you. You keep giggling as you crouch down and offer your shitty lighter to the raven. “Well? Are you gonna help me or just stand there making fun?”

“Matthew has always had a sense of humor.” At the sound of someone’s accented voice, as rich and deep as whiskey, you stand and turn to see a man looking at you and your new corvus buddy.

Oh fuck, he’s beautiful.

You go with beautiful as handsome is definitely the wrong word. The stranger is beautiful in a way that doesn’t quite seem humanly possible, like it breaks your brain a little bit to look at his brilliant eyes, to take in his high, sweeping cheekbones and plush mouth.

“The raven’s name is Matthew?”

“Yes.” You’re tempted to ask him if he, like, has a podcast or maybe records audiobooks. If he doesn’t, he should. He’d do super well.

Seriously. It’s catnip to you. The sound unfurls from his throat with a touch of rasp, but still purer and more resonant than any other voice you can recall.

You’re reminded of what priests say the voice of God sounds like. This is a very weird thing to come to mind when a random guy talks, especially as you aren’t really religious like that. He definitely could get a whole lot of people to do as he wished just by asking, you think. A God needs to have that quality. Or a cult leader.

You swallow down the heat inside that stokes hotter with every moment his bright gaze clings to your face, to the curve of your lips. His structured black coat fits across his proud shoulders well; it looks expensive and he appears to have an awfully good tailor.

You decide to go along with the bit. Bits are fun and talking to this man is exactly the kind of shenanigan you were hoping to stumble across. “That’s a good name. Did you give him that?”

He smiles knowingly. “He named himself.”

That’s funny. It makes sense; ravens are as clever as any person, the Internet says, so someone looking at one of those birds and feeling as though it named itself isn’t totally out of left field.

You hope he elaborates on that, but the stranger doesn’t seem inclined to help you out there. But you don’t want the silence to settle much longer. It might drive him away, and you’d like him to stick around longer. Maybe get his number. “Well, I hope he knows it suits him. Hey. You think you could light this for me? You saw me try it with Matthew, but I don’t think he has enough claws to make it work.” You hold out the lighter with shaky fingers, nervousness fighting desire in your veins.

When he takes it from you, his skin brushes yours. It’s almost electric. “…of course.”

You’ve never felt attracted to someone so fast. The wanting hits you like an avalanche; a dream of his palms on your hips and red marks on your skin from his teeth pours through your mind.

The man cups his other hand over the flame as you lean in, at last lighting your neglected smoke. Your lungs fill with him, not tobacco smoke. His scent, sharp and comforting all at once, makes you just as woozy, just as lightheaded as the nicotine does. “Thank you, I, um, appreciate it. Do you have a name, too?”

“You may call me Dream.”

Your best friend would appreciate his excellent grammar. Clever of him to use ‘might’; if you were a Fae trying to get his real name, he’s answered in exactly the way someone trying to not get fairy abducted should. These are the kinds of tidbits that amuse you, even if you won’t ever use them. So you’ve spent your life hoarding random information like this, just for funsies.

“Your choice of words there is noted, ‘Dream’.” Your smile warms your voice and he steps in a little closer, close enough that you have to tilt your head up a bit to maintain eye contact. Like staring at an eclipse. That’s bad for your eyesight, you tell yourself. But you can’t look away.

His lashes are as black as his thick, undone hair, framing a lidded and darkening gaze.“Were you just leaving?”

Oh fuck yeah. “Um, yeah, not really my scene. Kinda boring, at least for me. It’s a shame; I was hoping to actually make getting out of the house tonight worth it, but. No dice.” You haven’t done this game in quite awhile, but you still remember the rules. A bit of a tease at the end, just to imply that you’re interested. What can you do? He makes you bold, bolder than normal. You want him to want you.

“Pity.” A pause stretches between you and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, your anxiety revving up again. What if he just walks away and leaves you here, embarrassed and in your head for believing someone like you could attract someone like him?

“Do you still wish to make getting out of the house tonight worth it?” Your words sound out of place in his mouth, too modern.

What’s that joke about how some actors in period dramas clearly look like they know what an iPhone is? Dream is apparently the opposite of that. He seems entirely above petty concerns like lamenting the lack of decent hookups.

The discordance has you stifling a giggle.

You dream some more about his hand tangling in your hair and his body covering yours, his knee between your thighs. And the fire, deep in your belly, burns brighter and brighter. “Depends on what we’re doing.”

When Dream smiles, it’s beautiful and uncanny. He looks like a predator, and you’ve stumbled right where he wants you. It’s hot. You’re good with that. “You know what.”

“…yes.”

You can’t really remember how you got back to your apartment - Dream has been far too busy pressing his mouth to yours, devouring the heady, saliva-slick kisses you’re freely offering up, for you to pay attention to something like that.

As soon as you’ve made it inside the front door, he pins you against the wall to wrap an elegant, long-fingered hand in your hair, tipping your face towards him so he can nip at your bottom lip with sharp teeth. “You are… exquisite,” He murmurs against your lips, pupils blown so large that his eyes look like galaxies with an endless black hole in the center, pulling you towards his gravity.

You grow wetter at the sound of the lust roughening up the edges of his polished voice, at the awe in his words. “Please,” you moan as he bites aching marks into the column of your throat that are sure to bruise purple and red tomorrow. You want them to bruise, you want to have something left behind after this hookup ends, proof he was there.

You’re not even sure how to articulate what exactly you’re begging for. That’s beyond what your mind is capable of right now, as his hand fists in your hair and tightens until it’s the perfect amount of slightly painful and you’re gasping, desperate for more. Your hands have twisted into the collar of his coat this whole time and you don’t let go. The feeling of the cloth rounds you and more than anything, you don’t want him to back away.

Dream seems to understand your pleading - he lathes the bruises with his tongue and you would do anything he wanted, as long as he would do that between your thighs. His other hand trails against the swell of your breast, gently caressing them through your thin dress. You arch into his touch, his fingers rolling over your nipple, plucking at it before palming your chest once more.

You’re greedy - you want even more. With a frustrated groan, you shove your dress off about as fast as you’re capable of doing so, getting tangled in the sleeves in your enthusiasm. A whine escapes your chest - seriously?

You’re so horny at this point that any fumbling delay like this might cause a meltdown, especially in front of someone as hot as Dream, but he simply smiles affectionately and untangles you, soothing your ruffled feathers with his calm, steady touch. The dress flutters to the ground in a heap. “Be still,” He admonishes you, before sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your body bared to him. “Fuck.”

Your underwear is soaked through and it clings to your thighs as you shift, desperately trying to relieve the yearning need inside.

Dream seems transfixed by you, utterly enraptured by your full breasts and the dip of your waist, the soft curves of your hips. Those pretty, blinding eyes almost glow in the dim light of your living room lamp and as his fingers leave your hair to trail down your neck, a line down your clavicle, his touch relishing in the softness of your skin, you’ve never felt more desired.

Then, he meets your round, hungry eyes. “Do you want this?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course,” You pant. He’s moving too slow for you; you yank him towards you again, your mouth vicious as you kiss him. Dream’s still fully clothed, which seems a bit unfair, but there’s something about the intentional vulnerability of standing before him mostly-naked that you secretly enjoy. He has the upper hand at the moment, and you’re actually pretty okay with that.

Impatience and a bratty touch of mischief briefly win out over the urge to please him, to revel in his affections, so you quickly slip away from his grasp and flee towards your bedroom, with Dream hot on your trail.

Before you make it all the way to your bed, still unmade from earlier today, he catches you by your waist, wrapping his hand around your jaw tight enough to leave fingerprints so he can expose the side of your neck to the burn of his lips.

You fully expect him to toss you down on the bed and have his way with you, but Dream lowers you down carefully with one hand cradling the back of your head and his eyes fixed on your face, possession and lust blossoming in his terrifyingly beautiful smile

You need him.

He peels off his clothes quickly. Underneath all those dark, rich fabrics, his lean, muscle-bound torso gleams in the moonlight like a marble statue of some old god. You’ve always loved Ancient Greece and their perfectly-sculpted effigies.

Then Dream is on you again. He sinks to his knees before you and his position doesn’t feel like submission, not when you’ve fully surrendered to him. His mouth trails down your body and his hands can’t stop touching you; you gasp as you writhe in his steady embrace holding you still.

Your underwear gets discarded in some corner of your room - you’ll look for it later, when your hookup leaves.

He hooks one of your legs on his shoulder and buries his head between your thighs. He’s like, really good at eating you out. You’re sort of shocked, because you haven’t had great experiences with this, but his tongue traces your clit and the overwhelming pleasure from Dream’s touch forces a desperate cry out of you.

He chuckles against your pussy, now teasing intentionally as he traces around your clit, around your dripping core, before returning to his task. Dream carefully sinks two fingers inside of you and his groan at how your cunt flutters around his fingers vibrates through you. You’re so full already, the pressure pinching a little, and he’s careful, so careful when he starts to move in and out of you, sucking at your clit to soothe the ache from the stretch.

You’re moaning, and you can’t even breathe, can’t catch your breath; it’s so fucking good, and you feel the beginning of an orgasm coiling inside you already.

Any pain completely dissipates as Dream’s mouth indulges you, tastes you like he wants nothing more than to eat you out for the rest of time. Your body instinctively twitches away, hips trying to escape his touch. The pleasure burns through your body like a wildfire, and the intensity is almost too much, especially when the pads of his fingers find a sensitive spot inside your trembling, hypersensitive cunt. “Fuck, Dream, fuck-“

When he pulls away from you, his mouth is slick with your arousal, and you watch him lick it from his lips. “Did I not say to be still?” He speaks quietly, evenly, a contrast to the needy whines you make at the loss of contact.

But his fingers don’t let up. Dream keeps moving them inside of you, and it’s hard to find the capacity to answer him when he intentionally brushes against that delicate, tender place.

You’d do anything for him to keep going. Anything. “No, you did, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry.”

He does nothing for a moment; even his fingers pause as you spasm around him. And just when you think he’s going to completely withdraw and punish you for not following his instructions, he absolves you. “Good girl.”

Dream braces his other arm against your hips so you can’t escape how he pleasures you, and even as your body jerks when he enters you again, picking up the pace and fucking you open, you can’t move away. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, pressing even circles into your sensitive flesh so he can watch your face twisted in ecstasy and the brilliant flush crawling up your tits towards your throat with hungry, star-bright eyes.

Dream needs you undone before him just much as you want him to take you apart.

You’re so wet that it’s obscene, his fingers dripping with you, and the sound your pussy makes with every movement is embarrassingly loud, almost as loud as your moans.

Your impending orgasm sparks back to life as he patiently builds you back up, your thighs trembling and eyes rolling at a particularly forceful thrust. When he fits another finger inside your soaked core, your eyes roll back in your head as you cry out in surprise. It’s too good, the pain and pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Fuck, you can feel it, right there, feel it threatening to pull you under like a riptide, and each movement pushes the breath out of your lungs. It takes a minute to realize Dream is matching his thumb teasing your clit with his careful, gentle pushes against that spot inside your pussy. He knows your body so well for someone you’ve never met before, and in his capable, clever hands, you’re so close to coming apart.

He’s still looking at you, completely enraptured by your back arching off the end and your eyes hazy with lust. Dream takes your clit into his mouth once more, tongue flicking against you as he chases your orgasm.

“Thank you, oh my god, I’m gonna come,” You beg helplessly, writhing and squirming against him, your body wound up so tight that it hurts.

“That’s it. Give it to me.”

He commands, and you obey, coming around his fingers with a drawn-out cry. You’re coming, and it eats you alive, the fall flooding through you like lightning. Dream helps you through it, bearing down, so your pussy trembles through your orgasm on his firm, clever hands. You feel yourself gush around him, and he groans at the feeling of it, slowing his fingers pumping in and out of you without stopping altogether, eking out every last bit of your pleasure that he can.

And Dream instinctively knows when you’re done, when you can’t give him any more, so he finally withdraws and licks his fingers clean of your cum.

You can’t totally feel your legs, and you need to finally catch your breath, but you look at him, pleased and benevolent and still desirous of you, and you know you can go another round.

You prop yourself up on shaky arms to meet his filthy, messy kiss; the taste of your salty musk blooms on your tongue, and he wraps his arms around your sweaty, heated body. “Will you fuck me? Please? I want it,” You ask when you break the kiss. You’re a quick study, and Dream seems to like it when you tell him that you want him.

His eyes are almost completely black when he answers you. “Yes.” Dream’s tone is menacing and dark, and fuck, if you don’t drip on your blankets at the promise in his voice.

You like submitting to him, like how he handles your body like it’s his, and before he can push you down, you flip over and sink down on your knees, back arched and face pressed into the bed. “Like this?” You realize you’re asking for permission, which is something maybe you should’ve negotiated beforehand.

But you shouldn’t have worried; he’s very much on the same page. “Yes.”

You wait for him to shift behind you. You can’t see Dream, and the anticipation sends a thrill down your spine. You’re exposed and vulnerable in this position, and he could do anything.

His hands caress your ass, your thighs, your curves, lingering indulgently. It’s as if you’re precious, as if you’re the most holy thing he’s ever touched.

After pressing a single, sweet kiss on the base of your spine, Dream kneels behind you, and you can feel his hips against your ass. He seems intent on soothing the tension out of you, patiently stroking your heated skin until you melt at his touch.

And when you’re soft and pliant, he pushes in.

He’s pretty big, big enough that even after three fingers and an orgasm, you still feel a pinch as he thrusts deeper. You involuntarily make a soft noise of discomfort; you don’t want him to think you’re not enjoying this, to draw away from you. But Dream takes his time, gently opening you up on his dick as you start to relax.

When he finally seats himself inside you, that slight noise of discomfort turns into a deep, contented sigh. You’re so full, your pussy stretched comfortably to its limits, and you go slack against the sheets. Your cum from your last orgasm is soon matched by a new well of arousal from the feeling of his dick in you, heavy and hard and incredible.

And when he starts moving, your pillow muffles your loud moans. He fucks you slowly at first, mindful of how tight you are. It’s so caring, and it works; you enjoy the leisurely build-up much more. Before long, you’re aching for everything else he can give you.

He doesn’t have you entirely out of your mind yet, so you slot your hips back against his to meet his thrusts. And when you clench particularly hard around his cock, Dream also groans. “Alright,” he says with a hint of amusement. “You can have it.”

He fucks you in earnest now, one hand fisted in your hair and holding you down as he moves in you faster and faster, tears forming in your eyes from how ridiculously good it feels. With each push, he takes pieces of your higher functioning abilities with him, so all that’s left is your body responding to his touches, your mind drunk on his dick. Dream is addictive and so completely good at this; he hits just the right angle that torments you with pleasure.

“Holy shit, fuck, that feels-“ you cut yourself off with a long moan as his dick presses against your most sensitive places. But Dream is fed up with the pillow muffling your sounds. He wants to hear them, wants you to scream and moan and cry out as much as you want, and he draws you up off the bed by your hair as he keeps pounding into you.

Your shaky arms barely support you, but you manage.

Dream keeps moving as he hisses into your ear. You can barely focus on what he’s saying, not when he’s stretching you out with each furious push and forcing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. “I need to hear you. You’ll let me hear you,” He promises before biting at your throat, sucking in another mark on your skin where you’ll struggle to conceal it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” You chant. Anything. Anything he wants.

Dream keeps hold of your hair to arch your spine in such a way that every time he enters you, his cock thrusts against that tender bit inside, and your cunt spasms around him.

He wants to hear you. And you let him. Wailing with every brutal thrust, eyes rolling back in your head. God, you don’t want this to end, but you’re not sure you can take much more; he’s already maxed you to your limits with how good Dream can make you feel at once. You can hear his deep grunts as you start fucking yourself back on his dick.

Your clit aches at the lack of contact, and he gently lets you slump against the bed once more so he can slip his hand around your hips and gently play with the sensitive nub.

Your orgasm is back with a vengeance. You edge towards it so quickly that it takes you by surprise, encouraged and beckoned by his fingers moving on your clit in tandem with his cock ruining you. You keep waiting and waiting to go over the edge before realizing that Dream is gatekeeping you from it, cleverly changing up how he fucks you to stave off your orgasm. To torture you. If you were capable of thought, you’d tell Dream he’s being cruel and beg him to let you come.

But you’re cock-drunk and boneless under him, so you take what he gives you with a pained, longing moan. No more pushing back against him, no more pleading. You just lie there and take it, and there’s maybe some saliva dripping out of the corner of your slack mouth. Yikes -  hopefully, he doesn’t notice.

Dream can tell you’ve just about hit your limit. “Can I come inside you, sweet girl? Do you want me to?” You probably should’ve asked him about that before you started throwing down; maybe gotten out a condom or checked to see if he was clean.

But you’re on birth control, and really if he pulls out of you now, you think you might start crying for real. You want him to come inside you, to fill up your twitching cunt until he spills out of your spent body. Like. That’s hot as fuck. Suddenly, you need it as badly as you need to come.

“Yes, fuck, please.”

Dream begins fucking you in earnest again, and his fingers never let up between your legs. “Then I need you to come one more time. Do it for me.”

“I- I can’t-“

It’s just out of reach. Even though his cock feels incredible in you, even though your legs are quivering and tears run down your face from the pleasure he forces through your body, you can’t quite come. It’s driving you insane.

You get to the point where you stop making any noise at all, so twisted up in the sensations rushing through you that you don’t have the strength to do anything else besides tremble around him.

And then Dream tips you right over into it with a single, soft sentence, murmured into your ear. “I know you can.”

You come with a choked sound, blood rushing in your ears as you spill over around his dick. He rides you through it, fucking you through this orgasm that’s brutally wrecking you, that’s washed you clean of anything other than feeling Dream deep inside your quaking pussy.

He pounds into you once, then twice, before coming from the sensation of you fluttering around him. You feel his warmth fill you up inside, slick and silky. His cum spills a bit from your spent core when Dream finally pulls out.

He’s shaking, too, as he draws you into a tender embrace. You curl up into him on your side, body aching after it all. “You’re good at that. Like, really good.”

Dream smiles into your shoulder, where he has started pressing fond butterfly kisses into your sweaty, flushed skin. “And you are very good. You were very, very good for me, my dear.” You like being good for him. You have a praise kink in general, but being good for Dream somehow feels better, more meaningful, more special.

Just when you open your mouth to ask if he has any plans for the rest of the evening, he cuts you off with a voice undercut by regret and longing. “I cannot stay, unfortunately. My apologies; I don’t wish to leave you here so suddenly. But I have… to go.”

Oh.

You swallow down the quick flash of sadness.

You’re always a bit emotional after sex, and you like cuddling, but Dream doesn’t owe you any of that. He’s been nothing but polite and considerate, and you’ve just met him tonight. Even if you want him to stay, there’s no reason he should.

You know that the sadness and accompanying feelings of loss and inadequacy will soon build into something more substantial, messed up, and all-encompassing. And you’d rather not have Dream around when the dam breaks. He doesn’t have to do anything, and you have no right to make demands on his time.

You should get his phone number or something. But your phone is somewhere in the living room where you dropped your purse, and you really don’t feel like getting up.

Already your body is starting to crash now that the endorphins are gone, and you realize just how exhausted you are. A stroke of genius comes to mind. “It’s all good, don’t worry about it. You’ll leave your number for me? On the notepad by the door?”

“I- yes, I‘ll do that.” He looks at you for a long moment as if he wishes he could stay longer. Dream’s genuine remorse softens your heart. He’s a good guy, and it’s unfortunate that your time together had to be so short.

“I’ll see you around then,” You murmur quietly, asleep before you get to see him out.

[lionlena]

Nicotine (JavierPeña and You)-Headcanon

A/N: Okay, so I found this scene absolutely by accident on Pinterest and... I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT AND CONNECTING IT WITH JAVIER.

(I don't know what movie/series this scene is from... I don't even know what exactly is happening there, but just listen.)

Javi is your boyfriend/fiance/husband. He's been working hard to take down the Cali Cartel and now that he's is a boss, he has even more responsibility on his shoulders. He's very stressed, but... He has you and he's trying so hard to be better for you, but...

Sometimes it's too hard.

Javier tries to quit smoking because he knows you don't like the smell of tobacco smoke, but sometimes he needs nicotine.

And that's how it is right now.

Javier comes home late, he thinks you're asleep, so he lights a cigarette and for a moment his body gets a hit of nicotine. It feels so good, even though he knows it's only a temporary relief.

Then you enter the living room. You're a little sleepy and wearing a nightgown, and Javier immediately feels a pang of guilt. He promised you he wouldn't smoke in the apartment.

But you don't want to judge him at all. You just want to cuddle with him. You missed him and worried about him. So you mutter a quiet, "Hi, mi amor..." You snuggle into his chest and he hugs you with one arm while he still holds a cigarette in the other. He extends his hand with the cigarette away from you.

You feel his whole body tense and you worry for him. You want to ask something, but he pulls away from you and stubs out his cigarette, and you see something like disappointment on his face. But you know he's not disappointed in you, just in himself.

Javier wants to come back to hug you, but this time it's you who pulls away. He watches with surprise as you walk over to the chair where his jacket hangs and pull out a pack of cigarettes. The last time you smoked was when you were in college, but that doesn't mean you've forgotten how to light a cigarette.

Javier is absolutely surprised. He stands and looks at you in shock. He doesn't know what to say.

But he doesn't have to say anything. You see how tense his body is and you want to help him. You place your hand on his chest and gently push him towards the couch.

You both don't say anything, but you don't have to. You understand each other without words. Javier needs your presence... And nicotine. You need Javier. It's a simple equation for you.

When Javier sits on the couch, you hand him a cigarette and he still looks at you with those big brown eyes. He is completely surprised and... Delighted.

You come closer to him and he easily reads your intentions. He spreads his legs and reaches his free hand towards you to help you take a seat on his lap.

You sit between his legs, pulling your legs to your chest and leaning against his chest. You both sighed in relief. You are two matching puzzle pieces.

A faint smile finally appears on Javier's face. His body finally begins to relax. He hugs you and takes a drag on his cigarette at the same time. He tilts his head back and exhales the smoke as far away from you as he can.

But it doesn't really bother you anymore. You close your eyes and bury your head in his chest. You hear that his heartbeat finally slows down.

Suddenly the entire world around you stops existing. It's just you two in your little bubble. Javier rests his chin on your head.

"Mi amor..." That's all that escapes his lips, but you don't need more.

You smile and slowly fall asleep.

When Javier finishes smoking, he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around you. He doesn't want to wake you up yet or move you to the bedroom. He wants to enjoy your presence... Because you are like nicotine to him... He can never get enough of you.

He wraps his arms around you protectively and sighs.

In the morning he will thank you for your support... In the morning he will tell you how much he loves you... In the morning he will show you what his gratitude looks like... In the morning...

But for now, he holds you in his arms and won't let go for a long time.

[femmmie]

Anthony's Day prompt: Anthony/Amanda/Ian where in Ian realizes he likes both Amanda and Anthony because they look like each other.

Your kiss is on my list

Read on AO3

Words: 1.485

Inspired by this song

Amanda is over at Ian's place because she promised during lunch she'd watch The Pianist with him. This is why people don't sit next to Ian. He will convince them to suffer through extremely depressing war movies while he probably enjoys it.

It's quite inappropriate too, being over, alone, at her - very handsome - boss's home, at night. She texted her husband she was working overtime. Which is so much worse. She is contemplating submitting this situation to r/aita.

But Ian snaps her out of it.

"Hey, Amanda, you looked really serious right there, are you okay? Do you want something to drink? To smoke, maybe?"

The problem is Amanda really wants to relax. Should she, though? She usually struggles to contain her feelings and impulses as it is...

"Ooh! Do you have a vodka martini?" She says it with her signature wide eyed, Kramer-esque demeanor.

Ian smiles closed-mouthed and scuttles to his kitchen. "A classic drink for a classy lady," he jokes.

Amanda's mind is racing. "Is this okay? It's okay, right? It's a bit weird but then again, everything at Smosh is always weird. Nobody not working here could understand..."

"Mister Hecox," she involuntarily goes along with the bit. She can't help that she is such a great improv actress. "I didn't expect anything less from a Renaissance man like yourself."

"Renaissance man?" Ian scoffs, returning to the living room, handing Amanda her drink.

"I don't know, I'm just trying not to freak out! Aa! I'm watching a movie with Ian! I've wanted to see your house for a while now, you really got a nice place here!"

She puts down her empty glass in the window sill.

"Am I such a terrible person to watch a movie with?" Ian asks, still smiling. But then he suddenly pouts a bit. "I probably am, aren't I? Do I make you uncomfortable, Amanda?"

Seeing Ian vulnerable like this destroys all of Amanda's self-restraint and critical thinking abilities. She grabs Ian's arm and rubs it.

"NOOO are you kidding, Ian? You could never! You're way too sweet. I'm really glad I'm here with you. We don't get enough us-time at the office anyway." Something about the way she says this makes Ian's eyes widen ever so slightly behind his glasses, and his pout disappears.

They are just standing there like dumb idiots, Ian looking away as Amanda desperately seeks eye contact.

The door of Ian's apartment opens.

"Hey, Ian, I just came back from se- Amanda?"

They both are startled, and the visitor maybe even more so. "What's going on here?" He asks, unsure.

"Anthony!!! Fancy seeing you here, hahaha... yeah! Uhh, I kinda promised I'd watch a movie with Ian. Yeah! So that's why I'm here, I GUESS!"

Terrifying. Anthony gives her a look that tells a whole story. Anthony doesn't want her to be there, Anthony doesn't want her and Ian to do anything together. Anthony is jealous. Jealous? Why? Of course, she knows why. She looked it up.

Anthony recovers from his initial reaction and smiles warmly, hugging Amanda and Ian. "You promised you'd watch a movie with Ian? Rookie mistake, Amanda! You should know better. Now he won't let you go until you watched all of Band of Brothers. Or the entire Twilight saga, I don't know which genre he's hooked you on."

"You like Twilight?" Amanda is happily distracted from the whole moment they are having and tries to wrap her mind around Ian liking teen vampire movies.

"To each their own, Amanda," Ian plays defense. "They're good movies, actually." Anthony laughs. Amanda joins in.

"Oh I know, I've seen them! Just didn't think you'd like them too!"

"Uhh, yeah, so I'm just gonna chill here for now..." Anthony sits down in the middle of the couch, massively manspreading like he feels right at home here. He probably does as he even has the keys to the place.

To Amanda's surprise, Ian sits down next to Anthony and starts showing him memes on his phone. No "Hi Anthony" or anything. Just straight down to the bullshit they pull at the office as well.

Amanda sees two grown men SO obsessed with each other they forget the world around them altogether.

She makes herself another martini and downs that one in one go as well. Should she just go? It's probably the best idea.

"Amanda! You need to see this," Ian giggles. Anthony is wheezing.

"I don't know if I do," Amanda teases. Third-wheeling an Ian and Anthony date when she could be at home with her loving husband was not on her bingo card for today.

"Oh by the way, Ian, tell me again about that crush you had on that girl?" Anthony says all innocently, but Amanda senses some hostility from Anthony. At her?

"Uhh, what? Which one?" Ian lowers his phone and looks at Anthony.

"You know the one with the tats?"

"Oh yeah! Oof, she is so hot, oh my god, I'm so into tattoos..."

Anthony smiles at Amanda. He's so evil. But two can play this game, Amanda thinks. And she's not one to shy away from anything, certainly not this shit.

"I'm thinking of getting a tattoo," she says while sitting next to Ian on the very end of the couch. "Where do you think I should set it, Ian?"

Ian is immediately engaged. He scans Amanda's body with a pondering look. Behind him, Anthony's annoyed noggin sticks out. Amanda stifles a laugh.

Before Ian can decide about the place of Amanda's first tattoo, Anthony jumps up from the couch and back into the game.

"I don't know Amanda, maybe you want some inspiration?" And he takes his shirt off. Well damn. He's extremely fit and those tats look unfairly good. But now Amanda is alone with her TWO bosses in various states of undress! She can't wait to tell Angela about this...

Ian stands up and looks at Anthony's tatted back. "Amanda," he beckons her. "These new ones are so badass, " and he traces a particularly crisp line over Anthony's skin. Anthony naturally leans into Ian's touch but stops again, glancing over at Amanda.

FUCK! Now she's witnessing her bosses do some kind of FOREPLAY.

"Oh sure, they really are!"

The alcohol finally kicks in. Amanda gets up and lets her flannel shirt fall low off her shoulders, revealing her mostly bare back to Ian as well.

"Where on my back should I get the tattoo?" She asks playfully. "The same place as Anthony?" She turns her head towards Anthony and wiggles her eyebrows at him like she's Macaulay Culkin.

"Hmm," Ian thinks out loud. He gently touches Amanda's bra strap, then strokes down to her lower back... what the fuck is happening? A bolt of electricity runs through Amanda's body, it feels so good but wrong at the same time.

"You look so similar, did you know?" Ian says suddenly.

"What?" Anthony asks. "Similar?" Amanda looks over her shoulder at Ian.

"Your skintone, hair color, your big ass egos," Ian glaughs. "Your eyes, your smile, should I go on? I only now just figured it out. You're both my type." And then he laughs as if he just made the best joke.

"But," Anthony walks around the side table so is was facing Ian, "I know you way longer than you know Amanda. So that's different." He doubles down on staying topless.

Amanda simply twirls around and pulls her shirt back up, but not before flashing Ian a little cleavage.

"True," Ian answered. "But it does feel like I have known you for ages as well, Amanda. One day you showed up at Smosh, you kissed me and here we are!"

Of course. Amanda started all of this. The awkward gray area between coworkers and 'friends' and sexual tensions and halfway cheating on her husband, or is it even halfway? "Why do I always kiss people..." she thought to herself.

Anthony is not happy. "Oh, this is all about your dick again. Haven't we been here before? Haven't we talked through that we're not letting relationships come between us anymore?"

Ian looks a bit nervous now. That does it. Amanda beats him to answer Anthony. "THERE IS NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN IAN AND ME!" She bolts for the door. "I AM GOING HOME TO MY HUSBAND NOW! I AM NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH IAN!!!" She desperately struggles to open the door. "Bye now, I love Smosh. See you at work." Shit, she used the iconic phrase Shayne said to Court and they are married now.

When she's outside, she collapses on the ground. "What did I get myself into?!" But then she can't help but overhear through the way too thin door of Ian's apartment.

"Anthony, of course I love you the most, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid, just staking my claim."

"I think you scared Amanda away."

"Good. I think you were on to something though. She did kiss you... first."

"Anth... mmm?" Soft noises ensue, of two people staggering toward the bedroom, soft laughter and- Amanda almost has a heart attack when she thinks she left her phone in the apartment, but then she finds it in her purse. She calls an Uber while fleeing downstairs.

Well, Ian has a type, apparently. And maybe in another life, her and Ian... but in this life, no way. Anthony has staked his claim, as he said. Are her bosses a 'thing' now? It sounded like it... And Amanda isn't even available. This was just a mistake on her part. One thing is for sure: she's never sitting next to Ian at lunch again.