#even drives an old but fancy car? check

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Late Jason birthday fic!!!!

MDNI

warnings: jason devouring reader's poosay

You and Jason have been dating just under a year. And today was the first time celebrating with him the day he dreaded the most. His birthday.

If he HAD to celebrate it with his family, he'd want a small get-together, sharing his special day with Alfred.

NOT this damn gala that Bruce organised, seemingly just to spite him. Bruce excused that it was mainly for Alfred, but since they shared the special day, Jason had to be there, too. Now Jason feared the most; being surrounded by rich assholes, half-heartedly wishing him a happy birthday.

But you seemed excited to finally celebrate his birthday with him, and seeing you so eager made Jason's heart swell. He's just gonna have to suck it up and put on his big boy pants and go.

"You ready, baby?" Jason asked, coming into your room. The second he sees you in that damn black dress, complimented with red, he thinks he's lost it. He couldn't even take his eyes off the long slit of the dress that revealed a glimpse of your thigh. If you didn't answer him, he'd think he'd forget how to breathe because, oh, how you were breathtaking.

"Mhm, let me just put my shoes on." You say, taking his arm and leading him to the front door where your black heels with red outsoles laid.

"Is you being all dolled up my birthday present, sweetness?" Jason asked, a sly smirk on his face as he holds onto your waist, helping you balance as you put your heels on.

You chuckled. "It can be if you want it to be. But my actual present for you will be given later." You said, kissing his cheek. "C'mon, let's go."

Jason leads you to his car, and on the drive to the manor, it takes all his willpower not to let his hand that laid on your thigh sneak under the slit and inch up higher.

You held onto Jason arm as he led you into the manor. You expected big, but god, everything and everyone looked so extravagant.

You caught a glimpse of Alfred standing near Bruce and your eyes light up.

"C'mon, Jay!" You said excitedly, tugging him towards where the two men were standing. Jason groans, knowing he'd have to talk to Bruce, but on the other hand, he does want to wish his grandfather a hapoy birthday.

"Happy birthday, Alfie!" You exclaimed, giving the old man a hug before giving him a little bag that contained your gift for him.

He thanks you, telling you that you didn't have ti, but highly appreciates the sentiment. Jason offers a small smile and a quiet, happy birthday before giving him a hug.

"Glad you can come, Jason." Bruce said with a satisfied smile.

"I didn't come here because you told me to or because I felt like it." Jason huffs, looking away.

"Many people have been expecting you." Alfred said.

"And they have gifts." Bruce added. "I expect you to behave. But I don't doubt that she will keep you in check." He said, nodding towards you. You snickered in response while Jason just rolled his eyes, taking your hand, pulling you away from them.

You stayed beside Jason, watching as he uncomfortably mingled with the party guests, giving him his birthday presents.

It started fine. Totally fine. It was nice seeing Jason receiving such nice gifts.

But the more you witnessed him opening the presents, the more self-conscious you got about the gift you have yet to give him.

His given presents consisted of gold cufflinks, finest champagne, designer clothing, luxury cologne, fancy watches, and so much more. You couldn't even think about how much these things could've cost.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jason murmurs, whispering in your ear as he tilts your chin up to look at him. You were so lost in thought, you didn't even realise Jason was complaining to you how much he wanted to go home.

You nodded with a small smile. "Mhm. Little overwhelmed, I guess." You said, clinging onto his arm.

"Maybe another hour, ma. Then we can go home." He assured you, kissing your forhead.

And it does assure you. He loves you. And he'd love the gift you have in store for him. But still. You're unable to scratch the utch in your head from all the expensive gifts he's receiving.

You sighed, kicking your shoes off, flopping back onto the bed once the two of you returned home. Following Jason around and watching him open gifts can be exhausting.

Jason shrugs his jacket off, throwing it somewhere on the floor, lying beside you. "So. You gonna give me a gift now or continue to keep me on my toes?" He asked with a grin.

You fidget with your hands, picking at your cuticles. "Mm.. can you wait til tomorrow?" You said sheepishly. Maybe you can wake up before him and rush out to the nearest jewellers and get him a nice watch or something.

His brows pinch together with concern, watching the dejected look on your face. He props himself up on one of his elbows, his fave looming over yours.

"What's with the sour look, sour puss?" He teases, poking your nose. "What's wrong?"

You sighed, looking at him. "Nothing. Just tired." You muttered.

"Bullshit.." He murmured, lowering himself down to nuzzle his nose against your jaw, his lips just barely grazing your skin.

You lightly groan. "You got really nice gifts." You said with embarrassment.

He pulls away, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Wanna elaborate, sweet thing?"

You whined with frustration, rubbing your hands over your face. "All your gifts were just so... lavish. Just wait til tomorrow, I can get a better gift."

"Baby." Jason said firmly. "Let me see your gift."

You frowned, knowing he'd pry and pry until he saw your gift. You grumbled, getting uo to reach underneath your bed, pulling out a small decorative paper bag, handing it to him.

Jason carefully took it, like he was scared that his big, rough hands would break the delicate material. He opened the bag, digging through the red shredded tissue paper.

His eyes slightly widened as he pulled out a bookmark. It had a thin gold frame, the bookmark itself having a coloured silhouette of what looked like you and Jason, and in intricate writing, the quote "you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," written above the silhouettes.

"Holy shit..." Jason whispered as his fingers traced the fragile details of the gold frame.

You grumbled, not even wanting to think what he thought of it. "Jay, I promise I'll get you a better gif—"

"No!" He suddenly said, bringing the bookmark close to his chest. "I love this..." He whispered, staring at you with a wide grin.

"What? Really? It was only like 30 bucks.." You muttered, looking down at your lap.

He scoffed. "So? Who cares?"

"What!? But.. all your other presents—"

"Were shallow and thoughtless and were from snobby assholes who don't even know my name." He interrupted, carefully placing his bookmark on the nightstand before gently cupping your cheek. "But this gift, the one you're so worked up about..." He carefully pulls you on his lap. "Is the best I've received tonight." He kissed your forhead. "My favourite gift." He kissed your nose. "From my favourite girl." He kissed your lips.

You frowned. "But still!" You whined. But he shuts you up with another kiss.

"Not still.." He muttered against your lips. You hated the effect he had on you. You couldn't even argue as you melted against him, your hands lacing together behind his neck.

One of his hands gripped your hip as the other slid up your thigh, through the slit of your dress, just like he wanted to do all night.

Before going further, he laid you on the bed, his hands at either side of your face as he hovered over you.

He leaned down, lips attached to yours once more. This time, it was more sloppy and desperate, your hands pawing at his chest, fiddling with his buttons.

He helped you take his shirt off, throwing it over where his jacket laid as he travelled from your lips down to your jaw, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. You reach up to his hair, tugging it slightly as he groaned, his hips rolling down against yours.

"Fuck.." He muttered, his hands scrunching up the fabric of your dress in his fists. Being the feral man he is, he ripped your dress, the cool breeze nippng your skin making you gasp.

"Jay!" You squealed.

"Shh, I'll buy you another one.." He discarded the ripped dress with the other clothing on the floor.

"Up." He said, hands slithering under your back. You leaned up, letting him unclasp your bra. He cursed, his lips already around your nipple as you moaned, feeling his tongue swirl around it as his other hand was busy massaging your other breast.

"Fuck, sweetheart.." He groaned, his hands continuing to squeeze your chest as he trailed furthed down your body.

He stopped at your clothed core, your panties already soaked. He stretched the lace, letting go, making the elastic snap against your skin. You flinched at the feeling, your face heating up.

Jason gave the damp spot a soft kiss before ripping your underwear off, throwing it behind him. "I like this birthday present too..." He muttered, kissing your inner thigh.

"Jay, please.." You whimpered, bucking your hips up.

"Shh.. patience. Let me enjoy my birthday meal, hm?" He said, lips inching closer to your aching cunt.

"Jay.. Jay, I— Ah!" With no warning, his mouth dived inti your pussy, licking up the dripping precum like a man starved.

"Fuck, ma.." He grunted. You whimpered, your legs shaking, feeling his tongue lap over your folds and his stubble scratching your skin. "Tastes so good..."

You pull his hair, mixed sounds of your whines and squeals together with his tongue buried in your wet cunt filling the room.

You felt your core burning up, and your stomach twisting in knots while your legs shook. You chanted his name like a mantra, your head thrown back into they pillow, back arched, and your hips lifted uo further in his face as you came. Your eyes were shut tight, and you swore you saw stars.

You panted as Jason licked you clean, and when your eyes opened, there were black dots everywhere. Even looking down, seeing Jason's face stuffed between your legs made you feel like cumming again.

Jason hummed, crawling back up, kissing your lips as you tasted yourself.

"Now.." He flipped you two over, so you were straddling his lap. "I know you have another gift for me.." He said as whined, feeling his hard buldge beneath his pants.

okay. lowkey not satisfied with the way i write this but ermmmm... hope yous like it!!!

[briefalpacashark]

~The Rally Driver~

Warnings: A bit of swearing. Death. Guns.

Synopsis: You and the 141 get in a car chase. You're the driver.

Perfect song to listen to while reading.

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You rarely had a mission in the heart of a city. But there you were, in the heart of London hauling ass down a street, the boys hot on your heels. You all tuckered yourself around an alleyway hiding from the array of bullets. 

“This is a shit show,” Price grunted as he checked the nick on his arm. 

“Yeah no shit,” you chuckled nervously, going to reload only to find you were out of ammo. 

“I'm out,” As you chucked the empty magazine to the side, your head snapped up at the sound it made. Your eyes took in what you assumed was a car under a fancy-looking tarp. 

“Hold on, I've got an idea,” you announced. The boys barely spared you a glance as you walked up to the car, yanking the cover off. A low, impressed whistle left your lips as you took it in. A 1969 Dodge Charger painted in a sexy navy black sat in front of you. You almost cried as you slammed your elbow into the window, smashing it. Slipping in, you worked a little magic. (Stabbing a small knife into the ignition and turning it). The engin roared to life, gathering the boy's attention.

“Get in bitches!” You called excitedly. Quickly, they piled into the car. Simon in the passenger seat, Price, Gaz and Jonny in the back, left to right in the respective order.

"Seatbelts on," you called.

"Nows not really the time to be worrin about taht love," Jonny chuckled.

"Seat belts save lives. Put them on or I'm turning this car around," you threatened.

"Were not even moving," Jonny grumbled but they all obeyed. As soon as you heard all four clicks you took off. You slammed the gear stick forward and put the pedal to the metal. You gave all the boys whiplash as you tore out of the alleyway. 

“She's got a bit more of kick then I though,” you chuckled excitedly, ignoring the boy's desperate need to get there seat belts on. Guessing your position in the car the enemies got off a few shots, the glass from the rear window shattering and running down upon you all. You shoot through the gears, zooming down the street. Gaz let out a strangled scream as his body was pushed into the back of the seat. Now the streets of London weren't necessarily long, they were a maze of old and new architecture. Which meant there were a lot of sharp turns. With expertise you skidded, turned and slipped around every corner with ease, rarely losing the speed you were building up. 

“You're crazy!” Jonny yelled.

“Don't worry, crazy people can still drive,” you shoot back. As the group held on for their life, you couldn't help but smile at the thrill driving gave you. 

“PEOPLE! PEOPLE! PEOPLE!” Price yelled, pointing to the group of drunken club goers crossing the street.

“Dont fucken back seat drive. I can see them” you yelled, swinging the car to the side, missing the group, and using the sidewalk as your new road. You took a sharp intake of breath when you saw the restaurant that had seating set up on said sidewalk. The road next to you was filled with cars so you couldn't move. You slammed your hand down on the horn, the few occupants quick to scramble out of the way as they saw the car barreling maliciously towards them. The car plowed through the seat tables and food. Simon stared at you as you casually flicked the wipers on, cleaning the window from the wine and food.

“Oh that smells lovely. We should get dinner there next time,” you suggested casually as you returned the car to the actual road. 

“TRUCK!” Simon yelled as he spotted a truck pulling out of an alleyway. Jerking your hand break up, you turned quickly, slowing just enough for the corner of the truck to scrape along the driver's side of the car. The screeching sound of metal on metal filled your ears as the side mirror disappeared in the near miss. 

“That didn't sound good,” you  mumbled, hanging half out of the window to look at the damage.

“GET INSIDE THE FUCKEN CAR!” Gaz yelled.

“Alright, I think everyone just needs to calm down,” you said gently, turning around to face the panicked passengers. As you did so she caught the look of a certain pissed of enemies pursuing you in another car. 

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!” Simon yelled. He looked hilarious, propping his large body the best he could in the corner of the seat. “Hey don't tell me how to drive. Why don't you be useful and use your little toy on our little friends” you asked slowly turning back to the front to return to driving. The boys turned round, spotting your pursuers. Simon threw half his body out the window as he started to fire, and they fired right back. The rest of the boys quickly joined Simon's efforts. 

“Does anyone have a map?” you asked casually through the gun fire. Simon cursed as his gun ran out of bullets. 

“No, we don't have a fucken map,” Ghost growled as he slipped back into his seat, throwing the gun down. Coming to a roundabout you smoothly drifted the car round Gaz struggling to understand the physics of a car driving sideways.

“Should you even be driving?” Gaz yelled. He had given up returning fire and handed his gun to Jonny. He was much more focused on the danger in the car. 

“I don't think so. You know I think there should be a law that if you fail your driving test ten times, then you shouldn't ever get one,” you chuckled, half jokingly.

“YOU FAILED YOUR DRIVING TEST TEN TIMES!?” Gaz screamed just about to pass out from the fear. “Of course not,” you reached back, patting his knee comfortingly.

“It was more like eighteen,” you stated. 

“Oh lord help me,” he whispered. The boys grinned at the interaction.

“I'm out,” Price announced. Jonny got off a few more shots before repeating his words. The poor night  inhabitants of the town were plunged into confusion at the cars that drove through there streets like rally drivers. A rally driver would be the only way the boys could describe your driving. It scared them shitless. But they had to admit, you were good, really good. You were quickly forming distance with the other car. Ghost reached across you where you usually held your gun.

“Lieutenant, so forward?” you chuckled. 

“Gun,” the simple word was meant to explain what he was doing. 

“Safe word?” you asked teasingly, making him look up at you with a small glare. A glare that momentarily faltered due to your close proximity. He hated to admit it, but his body flushed in attraction. You pose having one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick and the annoying smirk sent his heart racing. You chuckled at what you assumed was an are you serious look. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your lower back, sliding it down to meet the gun you had tucked into the back of your pants. Clearing his throat, he pulled the gun free, returning to the window, firing another shoot. 

“Drive straight!” he yelled struggling to keep his balance.

“You shoot straight,” you shoot back but tried your best to steady the car. Steady enough for him to land a hit dead center in the driver's head. To your shock, the passenger kicked the man's body out the door and continued driving.

“Shit,” he hissed, firing off more shots failing to see the fast approaching wall. You did, however. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the first thing your hand landed on. Which just so happened to be his belt buckle. Yanking him back into the car, he narrowly missed decapitation. His eyes snapped down to the grip you had on his belt, your hand pulling the material taunt.

“Close one, lieutenant,” you spared a grin at him, releasing his belt buckle. Simon was surprised, yet not entirely against it. Dare he say, even slightly aroused? 

“This place is like a maze,” you mentioned, taking her time to look at the signs.

“You are way too calm for this,” Simon huffed, going to fire again only to find that he was out of bullets. “Shit,” he whispered. Luckily, after another quick turn it seemed like you had lost them.

“Well, there's no point in panicking. Sure he's firing at us but there a terrible shot. Ain't that right boss?’ you asked, glancing back at Price that for a man with great composure looked like he was about to lose his shit. 

“Please focus on the road!” Price begged.

“Alright well.I feel like I'm taking a tour through this town. Where am i doing?” you asked.

“Head west,” he ordered. “Alright cool,” you nodded, pausing for a few moments. “Which way is west?” you asked.

“Left!” he snapped. Jokingly, you held up your hands. Holding your thumb and index finger into L shapes.

“SARGENT!” Price snapped.

“Ok ok, sorry!” you whispered back, making a quick left turn, a quick left turn that had them headed in the west direction, a direction that put them directly in line with an all too familiar car. The enemy. They had cut you off.

“Shit,” you whispered. Slamming into the break. The car came to a screeching stop. Almost sent Ghost through the windscreen. The driver in the opposite car gave you a shit-eating grin as his allies poked themselves out of the windows.

“Get down!” You yelled. Everyone did so, including you as you slammed the car into reverse, taking off just as fast as you had before. Gritting your teeth, you prayed for luck as they opened fire. Snapping up, you placed your hand on the back of Simon's head rest and not to toot your own horn, but drove like a boss ass bitch. Backwards. At full speed, weaving and jerking side to side doing your best to dodge the bullets. The chase was back on, with you doing your best to drive backwards. Waving and dodging cars as perfectly as you had done before. There just wasn't any room to turn the car around. And your near miss count was going up with every passing second. 

“Oh my god we're gonna die,” Gaz stated simply as he watched you. 

“Not today, bud,” you stated. You saw it, you slammed the hand brake up, throwing the car around barely losing any speed as you returned to forward face driving. Your eyes searched for your exit, anything. Then you saw it, A Little bridge in the distance.

“How long can you guys hold your breath?” you asked.

“What?” Jonny asked.

“Answer the fucking question!” You snapped.

“A long fucking time!” Ghost yelled.

“Alright, everyone, windows down seat belts off,” you ordered.

“Um fuck no,” Gaz stated, simply holding tighter onto his life line.

“Do it now!” You snapped. 

“Wanna fill us in on your plan?” Price asked.

“We're going for a swim. Everyone brace yourself,” you ordered, cutting the lights off. You took a sharp turn at the building, cutting off the view of the car behind. And in one quick jerk, you threw the car off the side of the walkway. You cut the engine just as the car hit the water under the bridge. The car was quickly submerged as you all clambered out. Well, almost all. You grunted as something caught on your ankle. You assumed it was the seat belt. Your hand reached for your knife as it pulled you deeper and deeper into the depths. Only your knife wasn't there. It was in the car's ignition. You reached for it, trying desperately to rip it out to no avail. Shit. You were running out of air as you struggled to untangle your foot. Only you had no light, and you couldn't figure out how it had snagged itself on you. You felt your body getting tired, panic started to set in. Your limited vision started to fade and your lungs burnt for air. Shit, you thought. As you started to acknowledge your possible death, your body went limp as you fought for the last remained of your consciousness. You didn't want to die. There was still so much you wanted to do. God and the boys would never let you down if this was how you would die. They would tease you shitless in the afterlife. You were about to let it go when a set of hands grabbed your shoulders. They gave you a yank, quickly discovering you were caught on something. Their hands patted you down till they found the culprit slicing the seat belt. They swam you back to the surface, you gasping like a fish out of water at the much needed oxygen. Sighs of relief sounded as you briefly caught a glimpse of the skull mask on the face eof the man who kept you afloat resting your upper back on his shoulder.

Ghost had saved you.

“Fucken hell,” Ghost whispered. You couldn't really tell due to the lack of oxygen but you could have sworn you felt him pull you closer to him, his chin pressing against your head in an awkward hug. Price swam over to you, taking your face into his hand.

“You alright, Sargent?” he asked. After a few more gasps of air, you nodded, pulling a thumbs up. 

With deep breaths you all waded in the water waiting as you heard the other car approach. As it drove over the bridge and off into the distance. You had lost them.

“Well, personally, I think that went well,” you said with a cheerful grin. The boys all chuckled as they somewhat relaxed. 

“Do you even have a license?” Gaz asked.

“An Australian one, yes,” you nodded.

“But then again, the police officer doing my test was drunk when I drove him home,” You shrugged casually, earning another set of chuckles. Reaching up you hugged Simon arm tightly. “Thank for saving my ass big guy,” you whispered.

“Don't scare me like that again, you hear me?" he grumbled holding you impossibly closer.

"No promises," you stated.

"Hey what was that bout seat belts saving lives again?" he asked as he sawm you to shore. You simply chuckled shaking your head.

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--COD Master List here--

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[tadfools]

I saw a post that was like ‘these are the cars the bg3 companions would have’ but they were all rich people shit so here’s my version just for funzies

Shadowheart has a Subaru and if you know why then you know why. There’s a moon sun catcher hanging from the review mirror and on the back there’s one of those coexist bumper stickers (it was there when she bought it but she doesn’t take it off cause it might damage the paint under it)

Karlach has her mom’s old beat up a Honda Civic. It starts rattling if it goes over 90, one of the seatbelt is being held together with duct tape, it smells like crayons, and the check engine light is always on. But good god is it going to get you where you need to go

Halsin has a jeep Liberty/Cherokee, it’s always covered in mud and it smells like a wet dog…. He doesn’t have a dog

Lae’zel has a Volkswagen bug. It’s small, dignified, economical even! (Kinda)

Wyll had a Toyota pickup from the 90’s. It’s not much but it was the first car he bought that wasn’t with his dad’s money, he loves it like a son. It’s name is Alberto

Rich kid Gale would drive a 68 mustang if he ever left the house. I love the man but he would be one of those people who has a fancy car just to say he has a fancy car and doesn’t have the first clue on how to take care of it

Jaheria has half a dozen kids at any given moment and has a minivan. Yes, she does have one of those stick figure family window decals. There’s a soccer ball sized dent on the passenger door

Minsc has a mini cooper. A mini cooper that has more scratches and dings than it should but a mini cooper nonetheless. It got left in the sun way too long and has one of those fading spots on the roof.

Astarion is the proud owner of a Prius. Her name is Natalie

Also Withers’ has the car from that 70’s show

[misctf]

Hunting for City Boys

“Ah reckon they went this way!”

Scott could hear the heavy footsteps and thick southern drawl of his pursuers. His back was pressed against a tree and he did his best to control his breathing. How the fuck did it get this out of hand? It started with the damn car. Of all the places for their car to break down, it had to be in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere. No internet signal, no GPS, nothing. Prior to leaving, Scott asked Will to make sure the car was ready to go. And Will reassured him that his father’s fancy BMW was more than ready to handle the drive across the state. Of course, Will insisted they take a shortcut to make better time.  And for what? To get to the cabin before the rest of their frat bros? In hindsight, it wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, Ah see ’im! There he is!”

Scott felt his heart sink. Did they really see him? No... not him. Will. Scott heard Will cry out in pain, followed by a thud.

“Nice shot, Clay. Y’all wanna keep lookin’ fer the other fella?”

“Ah reckon we ought to git this one back to the house. The other fella won’t git too far.” Clay said, “Besides, we don’t want ’im wakin’ up before we get home.”

Scott could hear the engines of their four-wheelers rev up. And soon enough, they peeled away through the thick forest and back to wherever they came from. When Scott peered around the tree, he realized he was alone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Scott cursed, “This can’t be happening.”

He checked his phone again. No signal. He ran a hand through his matted light brown hair. The chase had left him worse for wear. His jeans were torn from running through the forest, while dirt and small cuts covered his hands. Even his white sweater was stained with mud. He quickly removed it, revealing a tight-fitting t-shirt that hugged his lean body nicely. He sighed. It would only be a matter of time before they started searching for him again. Those two fuckers. They came out of nowhere, driving on their stupid four wheeler. At first, Scott thought they were going to help them. It would’ve been clear to anyone that the two privileged, preppy frat guys had no idea what they were doing with the car. And despite Will being a straight As engineering major, his knowledge on car maintenance was lacking. As was Scott’s. Wasn’t like they ever really needed to learn anyway. But it was too late to worry about that now. Scott needed to figure how to get out of this mess.

“If they have a house,” Scott thought, “They might have a phone, or a car, or some way to get out of here.” He took a deep breath. He could follow the tracks of the four-wheeler back. But what happened if he got there and there were more of them? He sighed. He’d take the risk.

_______

Scott wasn’t sure how long he walked until he arrived at his destination. He spent some time hiding behind trees and bushes as his pursuers resumed their search for him. But somehow, he made it to the house undetected. Unlike the mansion his family occupied, this house (if Scott could even call it that) wasn’t much to look at. The home sits on a gravel path that winds through overgrown weeds and brambles, leading to a weathered structure that looks like it's been standing for decades. Its wooden siding is chipped and peeling, with patches of faded paint barely clinging to the surface. Scattered furniture and empty beer bottles littered the overgrown grass of the front yard.

“In and out. Find Will, find a phone, and bounce.” Scott whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. To the best of his knowledge, those fuckers were still patrolling the forest.

With a rush of adrenaline, Scott stealthily approached the front door. When he got inside, he gagged. The living room is a cluttered space with a mix of mismatched, well-worn furniture. An old plaid sofa, sagging in the middle, sits opposite a heavy wooden coffee table covered in a layer of grime and strewn with empty beer cans and fast-food wrappers. The walls are adorned with faded hunting trophies and old, family photos, framed in crooked, mismatched frames. A faint, smoky odor permeates the air, hinting at years of cigarettes smoked indoors, mingling with the pervasive smell of old wood and dust.

“Fucking pig sty.” Scott mumbled, maneuvering through the old home, “Come on, there has to be a phone or something.” But his search wasn’t all too successful, “Y’all can’t be serious, what kinda folks don’t got a phone?” Scott froze at the sound of the drawl leaving his lips “What the fuck?” He whispered, his voice returning to normal, “Shit, I’m losing it. Focus Scott.”

But there was no phone. Or car keys. Or even a radio. He took a deep breath, gagging more as the stale air filled his lungs.

“Alright, so I ain’t gonna be able to reach nobody. But where on Earth is Will?” This time, Scott barely registered the southern drawl that infected his words. Instead, he found himself focused on the basement stairwell. He gulped, “Maybe Will’s down there.” He whispered.

Scott started down the stairs. The smell that permeated his nose was more intense than the one upstairs. It caused the young man’s eyes to water and he felt like he needed to turn around to get fresh air. But Scott knew he needed to be quick. Find Will, get out of there. Head back the way they came until the got cell service. But his train of thought was shattered when he made it to the bottom of the stairwell.

“Will?” Scott asked, gazing at the figure restrained to the chair, “Oh god, Will?”

“Scott, that you?” The man said in a thick country accent, “Scott, come on now, you really gotta help me out here. Please, I’m beggin’ ya!”  

The man in the chair had very few similarities to Will. Or at least to the Will that Scott knew. Where Will’s toned abdominals once were, a small beer belly was jutting out. His stubble had darkened, while his dark locks had been shaved away and covered with a ball cap. His body hair was more obvious now, leaving him lightly dusted from head to toe.

“Will, good Lord, what in the world did they do to ya?” Scott’s mind raced when he realized he was once again speaking in a southern accent, “I cain't, for the life of me, stop talkin' like this! What in tarnation’s goin' on?” Scott’s hand shot to cover his mouth, but when he made contact with his newly grown stubble, he jumped.

“It’s happenin’ to you too, ain’t it? I reckon it is.” Will mused, “It’s the smell, I tell ya. Gets in your head and messes with ya a bit.”

Scott’s eyes widened in terror. And for the first time, he started to really understand his situation. As he looked down at his own body, he could see his stomach starting to push out into a small gut. Simultaneously, small hairs started to poke out from under his collar.

“No, that just ain’t possible.” Scott whispered in disbelief, “Will, we gotta get outta here, and right quick.” He ran over to his friend and began undoing the binds around his hands. All the while, Scott tried to ignore the itchiness of his new beard.

“I tried to put up a fight too, Scott. I reckon I did. But after spendin’ some time down here, I just went on and accepted it.” Will continued. Scott watched as his friend’s eyes dulled, “Ain’t no need for fancy degrees or gettin’ all dressed up. Just a good ol' nice, simple life."

“Will, listen here, you need to focus now.” Scott said, undoing the final bind, “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” But Will shook his head and without a second thought, tackled Scott to the ground. Scott looked up at his friend in terror, trying to wriggle out from beneath his firm grasp, “Will! Lemme go, gosh darnit!”

“Well what do we have here?” Scott’s heart sank as he heard the voice of their pursuers flood the room, “Billy! What’re you doin’ strattlin’... Scott?” Clay shook his head, “Naw Scott ain’t a good name for a good ol’ southern boy, ain’t it?” He grinned, “We’ll think of somethin’ but go on now and finish the job, Billy!”

Scott’s eyes widened in terror as Billy nodded. And before Scott could stop it, he found his face in Billy’s rank armpit. The bush of moist pit hair tickled Scott’s nose, and the intensity of Billy’s country B.O. filled his nostrils. He wanted to yell out and beg them to stop, but when he opened his mouth, he only breathed in more of Billy’s stench. For poor Scott, it soon became unbearable. And as the laughter of his captors filled the air, Scott’s world went black.

_________

“We ain’t got all day, Billy!” Scott shouted from the driver’s side, “Git in the darn truck already.”

“Aww Cletus, I’m sure sorry. I went back for the gin.” Billy said, jumping into the passenger seat, “We got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott- now Cletus groaned, “Just don’t be tellin’ me about no new shortcuts. I ain’t too keen on goin’ through anything like this again.” He looked over at Billy, who was chugging the bottle of gin. He sighed, “I can’t stay mad at you though.” Sure, his upper class life was gone. And he could barely string together an intelligent sentence. His vocabulary was oversimplified and any education past the eighth grade was absent from his mind. Certainly, folks from his prior social circles wouldn’t tolerate his cigarette smoking, beer chugging, and crude jokes. Cletus sighed. His life as Scott was over, “Well, Billy, you ready?” His hand slowly wrapped around Billy’s cock and he gave it a few tugs. Billy moaned and bucked his hips, only for Cletus to stop, “I knew that’d get your attention. Besides, you got plenty more of that comin’, y’know. Especially if we go along with what Clay’s sayin’.”

Billy nodded, lifting his arm and taking a deep whiff, “Y’all think they’ll recognize us?” Cletus shook his head. There was no way their former frat bros would recognize them.

“Soon enough, they won’t even recognize their ownselves.” Cletus replied, taking a whiff of his own pits, “Now c’mon. We got a long drive ahead of us.”

[arminsumi]

Saw this and thought... Mafia AU Gojo & Geto 👀

Share a piece of your juicy brain thoughts please, I'm collecting all the scraps 😗

PRETTY THING LIKE YOU.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ 𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

NOTE: OH TO BE IN THAT CAR 🛐 anyways, these are just... messy ideas pls forgive me!! 🥲 idk how to write for mafia stuff but i adore the idea sm i wanted to say a lil smth about it

WARNINGS — fem reader, you're Toji's daughter, err mafia stuff warning idk?? implied kidnapping, implied light use of violence, Geto calling u nicknames (sweetheart, baby, etc), i made Gojo a meanie for some reason oops, some vague semblance of a plotline lol

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

Your dad is Toji Fushiguro, he sits on a big throne in this business. Everyone knows him, everyone's scared of him — why wouldn't they be? Except for these two particular men... who consider themselves the strongest 🙄 Big, big severely inflated egos they've got.

Toji hired Nanami to be the loyal bodyguard for his precious daughter. Why? Well, to put it simply — these two men are looking to take revenge on him with you as their playing card.

Geto and Gojo are on the hunt one night for you, and you fall right into their palms. Usually the black car with tinted windows has Nanami behind the wheel, ready to drive you home after a night out. But one night it's those two.

The drive is silent and uneasy. Gojo is flicking his gaze up at the rearview mirror to check you out with those piercing blue eyes of his. Geto is talking to you in a sickeningly saccharine sultry voice, nicknaming you sweetheart, princess, love, baby, etc... and trying his best to keep you calm with simple small-talk.

Gojo? He's more intimidating than his friend behind the wheel. He will not stop eyeing you out, even when you three end up in some fancy penthouse. You blink up at him innocently, it almost makes his heart lurch — he's wondering how such a pretty face came from such a bastard.

Whatever Toji did to them in the past, they were still seething over. Seems their idea of a revenge plot involved you. But you had no idea what to expect. They didn't have intent to hurt you — well, subtract Gojo pulling and pushing you around like a ragdoll when you weren't compliant enough. But Geto always scolded him.

In fact, Geto calmed the both of you so nicely. He put on water to boil and languidly stirred tea in the kitchen. It was surreal and bizarre in some way.

"Sweetheart, we're gonna be transparent with you. We're just keeping you here for a little while to get your dad's attention. You're gonna be treated like a princess, so don't you worry — " he lifted you by the chin so you had to look up at him, "A pretty thing like you isn't in trouble with us."

Gojo scoffed. He had his arms folded. Legs crossed. Spine slacked against the couch.

"Don't mind him, princess. He's just grumpy — your old man wasn't very kind to him in his youth." Geto explained super vaguely.

Gojo chuckled, "Yeah, you're damn right he wasn't kind to me. Sonofabitch wasted me."

"Well she had nothing to do with that, Satoru, so treat her good."

He grumbled in reluctant agreement. But the second Geto was out of sight, when Gojo led you to your bedroom, he entrapped you between two arms and practically pinned you to the wall.

"Listen — princess — " he mockingly impersonated Geto, "You keep those lips shut or I will shut them for you." he threatened, breathe fanning your face.

Well, it was hard to keep your lips shut. A week later, you woke up and went into the kitchen to find Gojo with a bloodstain in his white hair, Geto with a crimson splatter across his cheek, and a gun resting on the table that towered with green stacks of money. You didn't dare ask what was going on. You just looked at them until they said something from themselves.

"Don't worry." Geto's serene smile caught your worried gaze, "Just business, angel."

"What exactly-" you began, but Gojo gave you a sharp look and Geto immediately cut you off.

" — ah-ah, baby. We've already talked about this." he cooed. His smile had the vaguest sinister twist to it, "Keep that pretty mouth shut. No asking questions."

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[heartshapedcigaretteburns]

Ex!Gaz who's still in love with you:/

(Look at my handsome boy💞)

Ex bf! Gaz who never wanted the relationship to end in the first place but you just couldn't handle how little time you got to spend together. He fought tooth and nail to try and make you stay but it wasn't enough. When that doesn't work he tries convincing you to stay friends but you know deep down that wouldn't work out so you reject the idea. 

Ex bf! Gaz who low-key stalks you. I mean is it really stalking if he means well? He just wants to ensure you're doing okay so he keeps tabs on you. Initially, he maintains his distance by checking your social media, but gradually, he starts appearing in the places you frequent, coincidentally running into you at the grocery store or gym more often than usual.

Ex bf! Gaz who worms his way back into your life subtly. Getting more involved with your mutual friends so that they invite him along to outings he knows you'll be at. In every group setting he manages to stay at your side despite how hard you try to get rid of him.

Ex bf! Gaz who is ecstatic when you warm up to the idea of remaining friends but he doesn't stop there. He's desperate to make you see that you're meant to be with him. He firmly believes that he was destined to marry you and grow old with you and he just doesn't understand why you can't accept that. In his eyes, you are his fate, his ultimate destiny.

Ex bf! Gaz who can't cope when you start going on dates with other people. Nobody else is deserving of you. You're meant to be going on dates with him, holding his hand, smiling at him. In his mind, no one else can treat you the way he can.  Sooooo naturally he resorts to sabotaging your love life. He'll find a way to make every new potential partner suddenly change their mind about dating you. And when you get stood up for the third time, he's there to hold you and comfort you, offering solace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were convinced that this new guy actually felt something for you. Things were going great - you had been on a few dates and really hit it off. It wasn't anything like what you and Kyle had but it was a step in the right direction. 

However, everything changed when he stood you up at the restaurant, leaving you waiting for 40 minutes without responding to your numerous texts. Finally, he replies, but the message crushes you.

"Sorry, I'm not coming tonight. I don't think this is going to work out."

Your entire body crumbles inward and you shrink into the booth as you process those words. You desperately tried to text back and ask what went wrong, but he had already blocked you. What a dick.

You apologize to the staff for the inconvenience, collect your belongings, and start walking home. As you left the fancy establishment, hot tears streamed down your face. It didn't take long for a familiar car to slow down beside you. 

“Why are you walking alone so late, love? C’mon, hop in.” Kyle spoke with a caring tone that both comforted and hurt you.

As much as you wish he wasn't so comforting, you find solace in his presence. You felt disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, and above all, unlovable. It's only natural you fall into his reassuring company.

You allow yourself to get into his car and let him drive you home while you sob pathetically and pour your little heart out. You're not even certain he can understand you with the intense blubbering you're doing but he can, he always can. He listens to you vent to him, gently rubbing your exposed thigh until you get it all out.

“God am I just not desirable enough? It seems like nobody wants me." You cried softly, your voice hoarse. 

He pulls into the driveway of what used to be your shared house.

“You're incredibly desirable, lovie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, he's just an idiot. He doesn't deserve you anyways." Kyle reassures you as he guides you inside to show you just how desirable you truly are. 

Okay this idea I've been toying with in my brain a lot lately and I think I executed it pretty well but let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoyed! Ignore spelling and grammar errors though 😽😽😽

[the-ace-with-spades]

When Ice and Mav actually moved in together for the first time (after dodging it for about five years) when Mav had to take in Bradley, Ice found pretty soon that Bradley and Mav had no sense of safety --- would always forget to lock the door, either while leaving the house for the day or retiring for the night.

So he installed locks that would lock automatically as soon as the door shut.

Of course, Mav and Bradley didn't remember to lock the doors because they didn't remember to take the keys with them. One can imagine this becomes a problem.

After the twentieth time Bradley biked from school only to wait three hours for Mav, and then another two to wait for Ice because Mav also forgot his keys, Bradley decides to do something about it.

He's very much Mav's kid so instead of doing the normal thing and making key copies and putting them in some secret spots/his locker room, he decides he's just going to learn to pick locks.

It's the nineties so he basically just goes to a locksmith and asks if he can buy some tools off him and the guy is so fascinated by this scrawny thirteen-year-old who wants to learn to pick locks to break into his own house, he not only teachs him basics but also gives him lock picking mags and a book.

So Bradley learns on old locks and bike chains and then one day, he forgets the keys and breaks into their own house. It happens again and again.

Mav finds out when he picks Bradley up from the principal's office one day and arrives at the house to promptly realize he didn't take his keys in the morning. He asks Bradley if he has the keys, he doesn't, and Mav just gets fed up because there's no way they're waiting six hours until Ice comes back so he has to go back to base.

Bradley makes a deal with him. "If I get us inside, you won't ground me."

Obviously, Mav agrees. And Bradley picks the lock.

And like, Mav probably shouldn't indulge this, but it also means he doesn't have to worry about carrying keys again so, yeah, he buys Bradley a new lockpicking mini tool belt. And Bradley gets even better at it.

One day, Ice is supposed to be at home the whole day, brought a suitcase full of confidential documents with himself, the type that has both a lock and a code, and tells Bradley to tell Mav he's only going to be at the office fifteen minutes tops, he'll be home the whole day, please don't blow a gasket Mav. Bradley asks why, Ice explains he forgot the goddamn key for the suitcase and Bradley is like, "If I can open it, can you buy me that keyboard before my birthday?" and for funnsies, Ice agrees.

Before he finishes saying, "This is government property, kid, no way you'll be able to open it with some funny screwdriver," Bradley is reading the top secret mission plans out loud.

He gets that keyboard. Ice is the man of his word.

One time, Slider arrives on base in his new fancy BMW, showing it off and boasting so much he locks the key in by accident.

Ice is like, "Don't call the locksmith, I got it," and calls home and asks Bradley to check if he can open it and Bradley's answer is, "Only if Uncle Slider agrees to teach me to drive in it." Slider, obviously, agrees because there's no way --- he doesn't know what Ice is playing at but Baby Goose is not going to open his car.

Bradley opens the brand new BMW with about twenty Navy guys cheering him on in the parking lot.

Now, when Bradley is all alone at college, it's very tempting to use it for bad stuff --- to steal cars or rob shops, especially when money gets tough --- but the worst he does is breaking into the cafeteria and stealing sandwiches and bags of chips. He knows having a record would kick him out of NROTC, fast, so the lockpicking becomes a bit useless --- he does charge people from his dorms (which all have the same automatic lock on the doors) ten bucks to open them and avoid calling the RA.

Next time it has any significant impact on his life, Jake Seresin just forgot his key to his locker. He's got his flight suit but his boots and a space to leave his bag is behind the closed door.

Bradley only says, "You're not going to ask questions and you're going to owe me one."

He takes out a pin he always has attached to his car keys and within minutes, Seresin's locker is open.

He doesn't know it but Jake stares at him, not because he's wondering how much shit he's stolen (that too, a little bit) but also because apparently he finds lock picking really hot.

Now, Bradley goes about his life and soon enough finds out that Seresin's definition of 'owe you one' meant taking Bradley out on a date. Which, honestly, Bradley isn't that opposed to even if he puts on a face, Seresin is nice to look at and it's hard to find a guy to fuck when you're training six days a week in flight school.

They have a little routine of Jake calling with, "Hey, I locked myself out, can you get your ass here?" and Bradley lockpicking his door and then pinning him to said door as soon as they're inside. He's pretty sure he's seen Jake's keys in his back pocket a few times it happened.

This continues but Bradley keeps on staying longer and longer at Jake's place, more of his already small collection of things makes its way there, to the point that it's more like he's living there too and just breaking in every time, like back at the house in San Diego.

Obviously, he gets spooked, badly, when Jake finally says that when they move to Lemoore after they finish training, he's giving Bradley an actual key. The last time he shared a key with someone, he's been told he isn't enough and isn't ready and had all his dreams shattered --- like hell he's letting Jake chew out his heart, again.

So he requests change of target stations and doesn't say shit until the winging ceremony.

Next time he picks a lock, it's Nat's car in the NAS Oceans parking lot. He doesn't say she owes him one but she offers him a drink at the nearby bar as a thank you. He says no, just not to risk it again.

Nat sticks but nothing like with Jake happens.

Years go on and the second time around Bradley is at Top Gun, with Mav hovering over him like a goddamn shadow, with Nat's judgemental eyes and with Jake's big pretty mouth not knowing what he's saying, he gets a text.

I locked myself out. Can you get your ass here? with a base house location pinned in the next message.

Maybe he's naive but he goes.

"I really did lock myself out," Jake tells him straight away. "Don't think this means anything."

They haven't talked since he took out Bradley's dirty laundry in front of everyone in the debriefing room. Bradley opens his front door and is about to leave when Jake asks, "You wanna step inside?"

It doesn't solve anything. He doesn't know if Jake actually locked himself out or not.

When he and Mav are discharged, waiting to leave the base again, and Mav swears and mutters, "I forgot my goddamn keys," and Bradley knows Ice is currently in Hawaii, Bradley asks, "You got some paper clips on you?"

It doesn't solve anything but he breaks into Mav and Ice's house.

It doesn't solve anything but it's a start.

[talesofesther]

moments tucked away

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve is a menace to sleep with. Why? Because he hogs all your blankets.

A/N: That's it, that's the story; I just vomited fluff on my writing app. Enjoy.

Masterlist

The situation was less than ideal.

It's not like Indiana highways near Hawkins had many luxury motels. But still, would it be too much trouble to have a heater in the room?

It was mid-winter and the roads wore a white blanket over them. When one is coming back from Indianapolis — after a trip that was supposed to be quick but wasn't, because someone forgot to check the car's battery — and all but a blizzard starts falling from the sky, snow so thick you can't see five feet ahead of you, it gets just about impossible to keep driving in the night.

You didn't have to think too much about it when the motel's old neon sign appeared on the white horizon. It was safer to wait it out even if you didn't have a change of clothes with you, even if there were unspoken words darting back and forth between the looks you shared with Steve, your roommate for the night.

There wasn't a spot in the parking lot near the entrance, many people had the same idea as you. You two had to bury your feet in the light snow to reach the reception, soaking your sneakers and coating Steve's hair in white snowflakes.

The old lady in the reception was less than impressed by your clattering teeth and Steve's purple lips, she handed you the keys and before you could ask for separate rooms she was shutting you up with; "this is the last one we have."

And so you ended up here, in a double bed that felt way too small to be called a double bed, hearing the glass windows shake with the howling wind outside — wind that seeped through the cracks in the wood and didn't allow the room to hold warmth — and with your back pressed to Steve's shoulder, your feet brushing his lower leg when you moved, and all too aware of how warm his body felt.

The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, the red numbers on the bedside clock telling you it had been about five minutes since the last time you looked when it felt like thirty.

Steve was snoring softly beside you. You couldn't sleep.

You clutched the covers in your hands, which were barely covering you, and pulled them closer to your chest, trying to fool your body into warming itself up. Blowing hot breath into your hands, the tips of your fingers against your lips were icy.

Your movements were all rigid and slow, just trying to get comfortable because it's been about two hours since the most awkward conversation of your life — convincing Steve to not sleep in the sorry excuse of a couch you had in the room because you didn't fancy waking up to him in a hypothermic state — and all you did was toss and turn in the bed.

Steve's breathing changed pace beside you, he mumbled something, and turned, away from you and taking the damn covers with him in a strong grip.

Cold air bit at your skin instantly, your lips hovering open as if he'd personally offended you. With an annoyed huff, you turned too, both hands gripping the end of the pastel pink blanket and yanking hard.

Steve woke up with a start when the fluffy material was snatched from his grip. He sat up in a quick motion, blinking several times until his eyes adjusted, head turning from one side to another trying to remember where he was.

You felt bad, but only a little.

Just after his eyes landed on you beside him, that Steve seemed to relax, shoulders moving with deep breaths. He let himself fall back on the bed, hitting his pillow with a thud, one hand going over his eyes. "What the hell?" He grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"You were hogging the blankets and it's cold." You mumbled, only being able to make out the outline of Steve's nose and lips in the dark.

He let out a mix between a sigh and a chuckle, turning to you, his eyes shining with the faint glow of the street lights from outside. "'m sorry."

"'s okay."

You two were all lazy words and forgotten boundaries, with the rational part of your brains clouded with sleep at such late hours.

You reached out, throwing the other half of the blanket over Steve again; the warmth of his body momentarily engulfed your touch, your fingers grazing over his chest, making you want to be closer. Even closer, that is.

"Are you cold?" He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips. A hand caught hold of yours before you could tuck it back, his fingers closed around yours.

"A little." You breathed, the skin of his palm holding most of the focus still awake in your body.

You pulled away when, instead of answering, Steve made to move closer; "go back to sleep Steve, we still have a bit of a drive in the morning."

The yearning to say more was almost palpable, Steve's lips hovering open for a beat before he clamped them shut and nodded. He did as told, and closed his eyes.

An hour passed, maybe less, and sleep was finally starting to take over your tired body; but the boy beside you had other plans.

The covers were taken from you, again, in a smooth motion, remaining only over your feet.

You groaned his name in frustration, bringing both hands over your eyes and feeling droplets of tears collecting there; because you were tired, and you were cold. You just wanted to rest and honestly, you just wanted to be closer to-

"Didn't mean to, didn't mean- sorry." Came Steve's groggy voice right after, his eyes not even completely open and he was already turning to you.

He threw the covers over your body, his arm going around your waist and staying there when you refused to look at him. "Hey, hey, jus- just come here yeah?" He urged, words slurring together as he gently tugged on your shirt.

You slowly uncovered your eyes with a sigh, looking in his direction with pursed lips, "what?"

"C'mere, c'mon." Steve didn't wait for an answer before pulling you closer, steady arms around your waist gluing your body to his.

He was like a human radiator, all soft and warm skin and tight embraces, the kind that makes you feel the safest. He had his limbs tangled with yours in no time, face burying in your hair as a pleased hum escaped his lips.

You didn't know if his brain was half asleep and he wasn't thinking this through, or if he just didn't care about the implications at all. But he was so goddamn warm, and as you snuggled against his chest and slid a bold hand under his shirt to hold him; you decided you didn't care either.

___

Morning came with the company of a clear sky, the calm after the storm; a chilly breeze flowing outside with the company of birds singing and basking in the sun's rays.

A low groan escaped Steve when a golden light came over his eyes. He furrowed his brows, slowly blinking his eyes open. For a cheap motel bed, he felt incredibly cozy and well-rested. He squeezed the comforting weight that rested on top of him, breathing in the sweet smell of coconut shampoo.

His hand moved up on the curve of your waist, drawing up your shirt a little, over your shoulder blades, and up to your hair, then finally his drowsy mind started to catch up with what happened last night.

Steve tensed, his body going rigid under you for just a second, just until he glanced down; your head was resting on his chest, lips partly open as you snored softly, your hand had disappeared under his shirt, and he could feel your skin touching his abdomen.

There was a beat, a moment tucked away in a secluded motel bedroom where Steve prayed his thundering heart wouldn't wake you up, not yet. He raised a hand, all silk-like touch and innocent hope, fingertips brushing away a few stray hairs that covered your eyes.

Your eyebrows crunched together and Steve wanted to plant a kiss in between them. You woke up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with your free hand. Steve felt when you realized the same thing he did just a moment ago, your body freezing on his hold before you tentatively glanced up at him.

"Morning," Steve tried with a smile, fingers tracing up and down your arm as he counted the beats of his heart until the moment you'd pull away.

It never came. You huffed, cheek marked with sleep as a lazy smirk came to your lips. Your eyes moved over Steve's face and he could only imagine the wildness of his hair at this time in the morning.

You stretched, and snuggled against him again comfortably. You played with the hem of his shirt as you said, "next time, we're using two blankets."

Steve chuckled, all warm cheeks and goofy smile. He hugged you closer, lips brushing over your hairline.

Next time.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Steve’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @tiaamberxx @alexisaflop @alicetweven @just-love-reading @katsukis1wife @frostandflamesfanfic @k1ngeddie @andraimeide @esoltis280 @robinbuckleyssgf @justacrush

Let me know if you wanna be added to his taglist.

[from-m-izzy]

gleaming | the boyz lee sangyeon

“Go over the given time and I’ll spoil myself more than you.”

pairing » the boyz lee sangyeon x fem!reader​

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » 18+ ONLY; MDNI PLEASE! 🔞 explicitly (?) suggestive, there's some fluffy moments here too, reader and sangyeon are very much in love

word count; estimated reading time » 1825; ~7 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » dom/sub dynamic, dom!sangyeon, sub!reader, does not include explicit smut but i don't think it's sfw either, very suggestive (as compared to this; forever using it as a main benchmark), sangyeon grabs reader's neck (for a while), sangyeon's hands between reader's thighs (mentions of touching), sangyeon implied to physically taller and bigger than the reader, mentions of nudity (and undressing), panty sniffing; sangyeon of reader's, nicknames (baby girl; sangyeon to reader), kissing, (slight) public touching; sangyeon to reader, suggestive talk (public and private setting); sangyeon to reader, allusions to face sitting, not properly proofread (surprise surprise 😭 i'm sorry)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

this is written to my dearest (and very old soulmate) ally @winterchimez 😘 happiest birthday to you!!

Sangyeon loves you. He loves you to bits and you believe in that confidently. You never feel any insecurities whenever he would be out without you. Your mind and heart are calm, not making any negative ‘what ifs’ from his actions towards the people around him, wherever he may be; and if anything, you’re confident in this seven-year relationship that you both are mature enough to settle any misunderstandings, should any occur, through conversations and patience. 

Sangyeon, from the very start, has treated you as his one and only. Picking you up from a place without notice? You can count on him to be in the car within a minute. Bringing you flowers whenever a date is scheduled, even when it’s not at some fancy restaurant and just window shopping in the city? Be prepared to have one hand free for the colourful bouquet. Making sure to pack an extra scarf or thick jacket for you to wear because the weather could be unpredictable? The back of his car has around ten of that each. Making sure that your credit card, your phone or any cash never leaves your wallet and bag? He gave the restaurant his card a few hours before he would take you to any restaurant. When you figured that out though, he started bringing it way earlier; sometimes during opening time, sometimes just a huge load of cash a day before. Spoiling you with all styles and colours of clothing, and supporting your hobbies by purchasing in-game items? He even made a copy of his credit card for you to use.

The princess treatment became even more luxurious when you both could afford a little studio together. As a child, you always wanted a big house, painted in your favourite colour and maybe walls stuck with stickers from the dollar store but all you need now is to wake up and sleep next to the love of your life. Everything else ripples after that. After an exhausting day, the thought of having his hand behind your back is enough to rid of the sleepiness before driving. 

Speaking of having a place for you both, Sangyeon has made sure to reserve a place in the corner of the bedroom for you. Whether that be for your gaming set-up or your skincare addiction he has reminded you to check the expiration date on or the albums of your favourite idols. He left his credit card next to your laptop to remind you that he supports you. His support never faltered even now as you're begging him for a date outside the house, hands clasped together in desperation.

“What's the occasion?” An eyebrow lifts in suspicion, his arms crossing in front of his built chest that you laid on last night.

“Nothing!” You shrugged, “There's just a little something that I want to get but shipping is expensive and we get to eat out.” You watch as Sangyeon tilts his head, his eyes narrowing at your wide eyes and the rising corners of your lips.

He knew he couldn't say no to you, no matter what. He was just expecting a lazy day in bed today as your day-offs finally matched after a few weeks. Just thinking of you both cuddling under the bedsheets and feeling your breathing against his bare chest, sharing body warmth through minimal clothing is all it took for that creeping red to make its way to his cheeks. But if his Princess wanted to have an energetic day out instead, then that’s what she’ll get.

You couldn’t help but chuckle confused at how Sangyeon suddenly bent his back, putting his face closer to you, cheeks lining up where your lips would be. When asked, Sangyeon turns his head, purposely flexing his closed smile to show his dimple. Understanding what he wanted, your toes lifted you to kiss one of his best features.

“You could’ve just asked,” rolling your eyes playfully and mimicking his crossed arms whilst walking away.

Your boyfriend stops you from taking another step, cushioning the back of your knee and your back with his sturdy hold. You couldn’t help but exclaim at the sudden levitation, but you knew he would never drop you; at least not to the floor. For extra security, “That wouldn’t be fun though now, would it?”

There’s something about men driving skilfully with one hand on the wheel and the other freestyling to be somewhere else. The very first few stages of the relationship, Sangyeon wanted to make sure that you felt safe in the moving metal vehicle, both hands parallel on the leather circle. Gradually, one hand lowers to rest on the head of the joystick. He knew the way he had his sleeves rolled halfway his arms also drove you crazy, judging from how your thighs would shake and the uneven exhales that are all too audible without much attention. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your thigh muscles contracting, ultimately closing as you look away to face the side mirror instead. 

He demands your attention even when he’s driving, reaching the stage of the relationship where the innocent swipes on the outside of your leg when he changes the control of the joystick to shamelessly keeping your thighs apart, hands venturing further up, riding your dress and skirt closer to your waistline. Occasionally his knuckles would press against where you needed him most and with the little game he started, you always made sure that if you were going to wear shorts or pants, the fabric would be thin enough for you to feel his ministrations.

“Come on,” you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relaxing the muscles of your throat. You let out the slightest huff, half disappointed at how Sangyeon didn’t seem to go further. “Let’s go, Princess,” clicking the seatbelt open for you. 

You didn’t bother masking your thoughts, unconsciously throwing a glare that is stronger than you expected. The look woke up Sangyeon’s dominant side and he locked the four doors through the main lock on his side. The realisation of your actions only hit you when Sangyeon easily wrapped a hand around your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. The hands slide to the side gradually, pulling you by the back of your neck into a messy tongue fight. His collar rumpled against your hold for stability and Sangyeon found it amusing when you lightly moaned into him, a slight smirk adoring your gentle features.

“Here?” You asked at the small frame between your heated session.

“Don’t test me,” kissing you innocently by the tip of your nose, “Let’s go inside now.” Not before he slips a finger on your waistband and snaps it back against your skin did he exit the car, making his way to the other side to open the door for you. Before heading in, he sets a timer on his phone and you smirk at his impatience when he pulls your hips to his growing tent. “Go over the given time and I’ll spoil myself more than you.”

The rest of the shopping trip is tamely innocent. Sangyeon had to take deep inhales to calm his hardening member under his already tight dress pants. Thankfully, you decided to make the best of the time he gave you, dragging him along your shopping journey with a wholesome smile and it calmed the blood pumping throughout his body. Within the first few minutes, Sangyeon is already holding two shopping bags as he recognises some dresses that has been in your shopping cart for some time. The attention to detail is rewarded with a long (but still tame) kiss on his lips. That is until you decide to comment about something that makes his heart excited, dopamine rushing to all the things that he wants to do to you tonight.

“You don’t understand,” putting the bottle of moisturiser that you had a stock of at home, “I need all of these to make sure that my skin stays glowing like right now,” sulking at how your boyfriend does minimal skincare and his skin feels like a newborn baby’s soft, healthy and plump ones, “It’s not fair.”

“Your skin is beautiful, baby girl,” kissing your cheek to prove his point.

“But you can’t ignore the fact that yours is gleaming and immaculate.”

Sangyeon nods, lightly shrugging his shoulder, “I actually have a secret to this gorgeous, glowing skin.” It perks your ears, never hearing that Sangyeon is into such things, “Let’s get out of here and I’ll show you?” You could tell that he was up to something that wasn’t related to skincare but there was no way you didn’t want to find out what he was hiding behind that seemingly cute and pure eye smile of his, not when he didn’t mind cupping your ass, gripping on your flesh in public for everyone to see. Your nod is what makes Sangyeon drag you out of the shopping mall.

He didn’t bother checking if the car was parked prettily in the designated apartment parking and you can sense his neediness with how he left the shopping bags in the back seat, picking you up bridal style from the underground parking, not letting you use your feet. When asked why, in the midst of the tight square volume of the ascending lift, he whispers to the shell of your ears, “It’ll be doing all the workouts from now, don’t worry.”

You wanted to question him, but with just one look into his orbs, the darkness mixed with the lust made your stomach do little flips and the stomach there did an involuntary jolt as you felt your panties dampening with every second passed looking at his black eyes. As soon as you arrive at the room, Sangyeon wastes no time to drop you to sit on the bed. You were about to lie down, as that’s what you would usually do, but this time he tells you to stay still. You watch the strip show in front of you, Sangyeon unbuttoning his shirt but keeping it on. He rids the metal clasps of his belt, kicking his pants behind him and lays on the bed, arms propped behind him, flexing his biceps.

“Take only your panties off, baby girl,” a chill runs down your spine as he asks you and you’re suddenly hypnotised to do so. “Give it to me,” referring to the garment between your fingertips. 

What your boyfriend did next intensified the pulsing between your thighs, “S-Sangyeon,” the lewd scene of him kissing and inhaling the scent of your used underwear where your wet pussy was made your legs shiver.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, putting the garment below his pillow, “Now come sit on my face,”

Your eyes widen at the request, “W-We’ve never done that–”

“Do it, baby girl,” he demands softly, voice cutting through silence dominantly, “Let me do my skincare routine lying down.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

[sarahwroteathing]

Giddy

[Steve Rogers x Reader]

Word Count: 2950

Summary: You take Steve on a surprise date.

Request: Steve Rogers, Giddy, Ice Skating

Warnings: None

A/N: I got VERY carried away by your choice of mood word, dear anon. I had a lot of fun with it, and I hope it's just as fun to read. Merry Christmas, my loves!

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cuter sight than Steve Rogers sitting in your passenger’s seat for a surprise date. He brought two changes of clothes. A tote bag of snacks. A “fancy coffee” that Natasha taught him how to make, presented to you proudly in a giant thermos. Now he was sitting straight up in his seat, alternating between staring out the windows and staring at you with a goofy smile and bright eyes like this was the best day of his life. 

“Are you excited?” you asked with a laugh.

“Sorry. No one ever surprises me,” he said, looking faintly embarrassed. “At least not good surprises.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! I’ve just never seen you like this before. It’s really cute.”

From the corner of your eye, you thought you saw him begin to blush, and you wished there was a way to admire it more thoroughly without recklessly endangering you both. 

“And you still won’t tell me how long we’ll be driving?” he checked after a moment, earning a narrow-eyed look from you.

“No, Mr. GPS Brain, I’m not telling you how long,”

“Fine,” he said, still smiling, taking a moment to dig through the snack bag. “Here.”

He poked at your bottom lip until you opened your mouth to take the chocolate-covered pretzel he held up for you. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

“Mmhmm. Wait, you ate breakfast before you picked me up, right? You told me you were going to.”

“Yes, I did.”

You didn’t have to look to know he was eyeing you suspiciously.

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” you laughed, holding out your hand for a pinky promise. 

“Just checking… Do you want some apple chips? I got the green ones you like.” 

He was holding your pinky hostage now, dropping a kiss onto the back of your hand as he waited for the specific answer he clearly wanted.

“Of course, Passenger Princess Steve.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, not sounding particularly bothered as he released your hand to dig for the apple chips.

“You can look it up. It’s not bad.”

He hummed, depositing an apple chip in your mouth before pulling out his phone. You smiled to yourself as he typed.

“I don’t not drive. You don’t let me drive.”

“I let you drive. Just not my car.”

“I’m a fine driver.”

“Steve. I’m not convinced you’ve ever had to pass a driving test. You drive every car like you stole it.”

“Rude,” he said even as he fed you another apple chip. 

“I fear for my life and insurance rates.”

“Just break up with me now, I guess.”

You snorted. 

“Nah. It’s endearing in its own way. And you’re very good with the motorcycle, at least when I’m on it. Very gentle.” 

“Well, yeah. I don’t want you falling off.”

“I appreciate that,” you laughed.

Things continued this way for about three hours as you drove out of the city and the buildings grew more and more sparse, eventually giving way to frost-covered trees and stretches of snow-covered ground. Steve never lost his smile or his excitable energy, choosing songs that only contributed to the mood. The music had you dancing in your seat and singing to him while he laughed and watched you, joining in for a few lines when he got the hang of it.

By the time you turned off the main road, Steve was wiggling in his seat too, craning to see out all of the car windows. After two stretches of tree-lined country roads, you arrived at your destination, a large tract of land with a few large, well-maintained old buildings and wide open spaces. 

On one such space there was a decently sized outdoor ice rink, a low wooden wall with evenly spaced high posts fencing it in and rainbow colored twinkle lights upping the charm. Three small sets of wood benches like partial bleachers surrounded it on three sides, with a cheerfully painted food truck taking up the fourth side. The chalkboard menus placed just in front of the window advertised an assortment of hot drinks and pastries. 

There weren’t many people here, late morning on a weekday, no more than ten total wandering the scenic walking trails in visual range and braving the ice.

“I’ve never been ice skating before,” Steve said quietly, staring out his window with a boyish grin that set your stomach fluttering. “I never had the money for skates and then…. But that’s what we’re here for, right?”

“It is,” you said, parking in a small dirt lot and shutting off the engine. “If that sounds fun. We can also take some of the trails if you’d rather.” 

He turned to you, responding to you with an enthusiastic kiss that had you giggling against his lips.

“Yeah, it sounds fun. I want to try.”

“Fabulous. I bought you some skates. They’re in the trunk.”

Steve’s eyes got wide again, and he scrambled out of the car so quickly he almost strangled himself with the seatbelt. You followed at a calmer pace, watching with a smile as he unboxed your scuffed up old skates and his shiny new ones. 

“Thank you so much, sweetheart.” 

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “Let’s go see how they fit.”

You grabbed your coats, scarves, and hats, leaving the skates for Steve to carry as you headed towards the rink. 

“You’ve been skating before,” Steve guessed.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been skating since I was a kid.”

He hummed, smiling at you with a mix of excitement and nerves as you approached a free space of the bleachers.

You took it upon yourself to help Steve into his skates, and he let you, teasing at the way you fussed over the fit and the laces. You got yours on much quicker and guided Steve to the gap in the barrier with one arm around his waist and your other held out for him to grab onto. 

He wobbled a little as soon as his first foot met the ice, a panicked little grimace flashing across his face as he reached out to you and the wall on his other side.

“It’s alright,” you said, trying to hold in a giggle. “You’ve got it. Hold on until you feel more comfortable.” 

You slid onto the ice seamlessly, gliding along beside him and continuing to steady him until he became a little less wobbly. 

“This is hard,” he laughed, jerking both his arms when he overcorrected his balance.

“It is,” you agreed, catching his elbow. “You’re walking on ice with knives strapped to your feet. It would be weird if it wasn’t hard.” 

“You’re making it look easy,” he said with a flustered smile. 

“Well, of course I am. I’ve had years of practice. Plus, I planned this date very intentionally. I couldn’t show off and perform a super cute romantic cliche if I wasn’t good at it.” 

“If you kiss me right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll fall,” he warned you.

“Noted,” you laughed. “Not what I meant.”

You skated out in front of him, turning smoothly to skate backwards. Steve raised his eyebrows, and you grinned at him, holding out both your hands to him.

“Give me your hands. I’ve got ya. I won’t let you fall.”

Steve glanced uncertainly at the wall, which he had been maintaining a tight grip on as he shuffled along the edge of the ice. You shifted your stance, bringing your hands closer so he could more quickly shift his grip from the wall to you. With a quick breath, he made the change, only wobbling a little before steadying again.

“There you go!” you said encouragingly, now holding both of his hands in yours, towing him gently forward as you skated smoothly backwards.

“If I’m about to take you down with me, let go, okay?” he said, with a giddy little smile that made you wish you could kiss him. But he was right. It wouldn’t take much to knock him over at this point.

“Not a chance. We’re in this together. Look how damn cute we are right now,” you said with a smile. 

Steve relaxed a little, visibly took a moment to appreciate the moment, the two of you skating together with your hands linked, staring into each other's eyes. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he whispered to you, squeezing your hands when you laughed loud and carefree at the question.

“Obviously. Is it working?”

“Obviously,” he laughed. 

The two of you made two laps that way, earning a few smiles from the other skaters. Steve wobbled quite a few times, but you managed to steady him each time, maintaining a slow and patient pace with him. 

“You skate better backwards than I do forwards,” he noted as you began your third lap together. “I almost feel bad for slowing you down.”

“Don’t you dare,” you said, squeezing his hands again. “I’m loving every second of this.”

“I kind of want to see what you can do, though. Give you a chance to show off.”

You didn’t want to abandon him on the wall, but the smile he was giving you, somehow already proud before he’d seen you do anything, was impossible to deny.

“Alright, but just for a minute,” you said, slowly guiding his hands to the wall and helping him find a position where he could see the rest of the rink and stabilize himself at the same time.

“I got it,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I got it. Go make me fall in love with you again.”

“Steve!” you gasped dramatically, making him laugh again. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be charming you!” 

“You are,” he promised. “Go do it some more.” 

You bit your lip, shaking your head fondly at him as you started moving backwards again, picking up more speed before turning around. You were by no means an expert, but your grandma had enrolled you in several skating classes when you were younger, and you knew plenty of moves that looked extremely impressive to beginners and weren’t all that difficult for you to execute. First, you enjoyed a lap at full speed, enjoying the feeling, and laughing as Steve gave a loud cheer when you passed him. It was the encouragement you needed to start showing off a little more, taking care to only pull out the big guns when you were in spaces of empty ice, safely out of the way of the few other skaters on the ice.

You were halfway through another spin when you heard a brief shout and a heavy thud. When you turned back, Steve was in a bewildered heap on the ice. Biting back a laugh, you weaved quickly through the other skaters, crouching carefully as you slid up to Steve. 

“Are you okay?”

“I fell,” he said, his eyes still wide as they found yours.

“I see that,” you said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m bad at this,” Steve laughed, shock morphing into utter delight. 

You smiled hesitantly, reaching for him.

“Did you hit your head?”

“What? No! I just - ” He laughed again. “I fell over. I didn’t get pushed or hit a rough patch of ice I just… Lost my balance and couldn’t save it. And I fell.”

“I’ve literally never seen anyone this happy about falling on their ass in public,” you said, a giggle bubbling up at the sight of that wide, delighted smile still fixed on his beautiful face.

“I feel so normal,” 

“I’d maybe up the angst a little if you want to be normal. Bruised tailbone and all.” 

“Okay,” Steve said simply, flopping straight on his back on the ice like a toddler and sending you into a fit of giggles in the process. 

“That’s not quite what I -” You could barely breathe to get the sentence out, clasping a  hand over your mouth in an attempt to get ahold of yourself.

“That HURT!” Steve called out, still sprawled out on the ice. “I’m so EMBARRASSED!” 

“Steve,” you laughed, letting yourself drop into a seated position next to him. 

“Don’t LOOK at me!” he continued. “Leave me here to DIE!” 

“Incredible,” you said through your giggles. “We found him. The most normal man on the planet.”

Steve was laughing now too, eyes sparkling as he discovered you sprawling on the ice beside him. He wrapped an arm around you, dragging you closer to him and muffling his laughter against your skin, pressing cold little kisses to your face.

“Ready for a break?” you asked as you recovered your breath. 

“Sure,” he said. “But you’re either going to have to teach me how to get up or drag me to the exit.”

You snorted.

“Alright, come on. Scoot closer to the wall. That’ll be easier for you.” 

After a couple of false starts, Steve managed to regain his footing, grumbling playfully at the ease with which you popped up from the ice once he was standing. 

You made it to the gap in the wall successfully, and you pretended not to notice the way Steve very intentionally overbalanced as he shifted from ice to snow, falling into you with overly innocent eyes and the fakest apology you’d ever heard. 

“You’re getting too confident already,” you chastised playfully, as he hugged you tightly. “You’re not good enough to start fake falling. You’re going to actually knock yourself over again.” 

“Wow. Meanest teacher I’ve ever had,” he said, barely audible from where he had his face nuzzled against your neck.

“I’m a monster,” you agreed, tugging on his coat until he at least started shuffling back towards the bleachers with you. “Let's get our shoes back on for a minute so we can get our hands on some pastries and hot chocolate.” 

You changed quickly, tucking your belongings neatly under the bench and heading towards the food truck. Steve caught you up in his arms again as you inspected the chalk sandwich board, standing behind you and reading over your shoulder. You swayed slightly along with the music playing from the large outdoor speaker. 

“What do you think?” you asked after a moment. 

“Trying to decide between a croissant and a cinnamon roll.” 

“Easy. we’ll get both. What about a drink?”

He hummed thoughtfully, pointing at the bottom corner of the board.

“What’s this list for? Do you know?”

“I think it’s extra flavors you can add to your coffee or hot chocolate.” 

After another minute of quiet conversation, you stepped up to the window. An older woman with bright silvery hair smiled at you welcomingly.

“Hi! Can we get two croissants and a cinnamon roll, please?”

“Of course! Any drinks?”

“Do you have a favorite?” Steve asked. 

“I think hot chocolate is the way to go,” she said with a bright smile. “I like cherry in mine, but you can’t go wrong with mint.” 

“One of each?” Steve suggested, tilting his head to see your face better.

You smiled and nodded, pulling your wallet out of your purse as the woman rang up your order and read out the price. Steve’s hand disappeared from around your waist for a moment, re-entering your field of vision with his own wallet in hand.

“Hey!” you said, snatching it out of his hand. “I told you to leave that at home!”

“You sure did,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement as you flailed your arm around to keep his wallet out of reach. “Must have forgotten. Oh well.”

“You did not,” you argued, hurriedly shoving it down your sweater before he could get his hands on it, keeping one arm tucked around your own waist to keep it from falling out the bottom. 

“Seriously?”

“I win,” you said proudly, shifting awkwardly to fish your credit card from your own wallet with one hand. 

The woman in the food truck grinned back at you as she handed you your receipt.

“Oh! Almost forgot to ask. Do either of you want marshmallows or whipped cream on your hot chocolates?”

“Marshmallows,” Steve answered, poking at your sides until you squirmed, trying to dislodge his wallet from your sweater. 

“So many you can’t actually see the liquid,” you added.

“My kind of people,” she said approvingly before moving out of view to prepare your order.

“We got a good grade in hot chocolate,” you whispered to Steve, swatting at his hands. “Quit!”

“Give me back my wallet!”

Your dramatic sigh devolved into laughter as Steve kept tickling your side. You unclenched your arm, letting his wallet fall out of your sweater, knowing he would catch it before it hit the ground.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, elbowing him lightly. “Even though you broke the rules of surprise date day.” 

“Won’t happen again,” he promised, wrapping his arms back around you once his wallet was safely stored in his back pocket. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed, unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it, pal.” 

“How about…” He kissed the wrinkle between your brows until it smoothed beneath his touch. “Tomorrow?”

“What?”

“We could do another surprise date day. I’ll leave my wallet at home.”

You laughed, surprised and incredibly pleased at the eagerness and joy in his eyes.

“You really want to?”

“I really want to. It doesn’t have to be - I mean, we could do this again. Or stay in all day. I don’t care.” 

You smiled at him, shaking your head in awe at that soft, excited expression on his face. 

“I’ll see what I can do. For my super cute boyfriend,” you said quietly, giggling at the way his cheeks grew a little pinker. 

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” you said. And you absolutely meant it.

*****

A/N: My heart is TOO SOFT HELP! As always, replies, reblogs, and asks are deeply appreciated and provide all the happy writer juice. Love you guys!

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @a-book-pressed-rose @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr  @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito

[captain039]

PART 4 last part

Welcome to Eden

Old man Logan x reader

Warnings: AOB, age gap, mutant reader,

angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, Logan lives, mean Logan, mentions of suicide

Previous part <-

It’s a few days before he wakes up. You’ve been mainly on the chair waiting for him to wake up. Going to toilet and food breaks. You’ve held his hand during the whole time taking the poison but by bit, it makes you sick, you’ve thrown up more than once and the doctors make you comfortable. You notice he looks heavier though, his face looks less pale and his wrinkles have lessened slightly, his hair looks healthier too. When he does wake up, you’re gripping his hand and standing by him while Laura stand by you. He grips your hand momentarily a frown on his face before his eyes open. He gasps loudly and you hush him gently as his eyes look to you. His eyes look brighter, not so dull and lifeless as they did before, he looks to Laura at your side too.

“What happened?” He asks sitting up. The bed moves with him and he frowns at it but sits back.

“You were outside four nights ago you fell to the ground, passed out” you explain and he nods running a hand down his face hand still holding yours.

“Sorry kid” he says to Laura who just nods and sits back in your chair. The old alpha raises his eyebrows at her but looks back to you.

“You look like shit” he says and you laugh at it shaking your head.

“Thanks” you scoff lightly smile still on your face.

“She didn’t leave your side” Laura says and you silently curse the little wolverine. The older wolverine frowns at you.

“I left to eat and go to the bathroom” you explain.

“You slept in that chair?” He asks gesturing the chair Laura was sitting on.

“It was comfortable” you shrug it was a fancy chair, it reclined back, had its own IV holders even though none were attached.

“Kinda looks it” Logan mutters.

“How do you feel?” You ask instead as he lets go of your hand as a few nurses walk on.

“Better” he nods looking to the nurses. Ones a beta and ones an omega, you’ve seen them before, Grace and Beth you’re pretty sure.

“How we feeling Mr Logan?” Beth asks a smile on her face. You frown at the omega woman though, she’s older than you late thirty’s, a nice body and kind smile, though the smile she’s giving right now sends your omega off like a dog barking. The old alpha notices he looks to you but you don’t acknowledge it as you stare at the nurse.

“I’m fine thank you, give me a minute with my omega” he says the words ‘my omega’ making your brain stop. The nurses leave with smiles and guide Laura out.

“You gonna bite her head off?” Logan chuckled and you feel yourself go red and look to the ground.

“Sorry” is all you managed hands clasped tightly in front of you. The suppressants you were given had warn off, his scent got stronger and suddenly the two omegas that were nurses that checked on him seemed like a threat. It bothered you seeing as they were only helping. You hear Logan chuckle though the sound making you frown and look to him as he holds his hand out for you. You take it lying your hand in his as he brings it to his face. He twists your arm gently his nose crazing your wrist as he scents you. The gesture drives you crazy, makes you gulp softly.

“Charles told me something about a connection between an alpha and omega, one stronger than most, a primal need to be by the other deeply lodged into their subconscious” he says moving your arm so its rests in his and you frown a bit.

“It’s heightened with the mutant gene too” he adds and you nod a bit wondering who Charles was.

“That’s what you’re feeling” he says his eyes darkening slightly his scent spiking, it makes your knees weak.

“When you first caught my scent in the car” he says.

“When I first caught scent of you in the car” he says voice husky.

“When you got shot, I went into some form of feral state, I couldn’t do anything since that damn serum ran off, but I would’ve liked to slice his head off, good thing the little one did it for me” he adds.

“When you passed out and the doctors took you I was still in that feral state, one thing on my mind was to get you to safety away from them even if they were helping you” he lets out a small growl and you clench his hand.

“When I met you in that garden and coughed I saw it in you too, the hazed over state” he says and you remember that all too well. When he snapped you out of it.

“You snapped me out of it though” you mumble.

“Because I was scared” he mutters and you frown eyes going to his.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“My life isn’t heroic shit like the comics, it’s dark and full of death, I didn’t want you in that, didn’t want you near me I was going to get the kid to safety and shoot my self” you flinch at his words holding his hand tighter.

“That’s why I didn’t go with you, but I heard the cars and something snapped in my brain and my only thought was you” he says quietly eyes keeping your gaze.

“You’re mine omega” he says his eyes narrowing and your heart pounds in your chest. He tugs you to him and you go easily sitting down on the edge of the bed. He growls softly tugging you into his lap his strength surprising you. You sit a little awkwardly, sitting on him sideways like a kid, one hand around your waist the other over your legs holding your thigh.

“Look at me” he says and you do your arms on his shoulders.

“You’re mine” he repeats the words making you shudder and nod.

“I’m yours” you mutter as he leans up slightly. You see the uncertainty in his eyes various thoughts flicker so you press your lips to his a small rumble leaving his chest as his hand grips your thigh.

“And I’m yours” he mutters softly.

[whousestypewriters]

i don't even know your name - jameson hawthorne x reader

pairing: jameson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing + like running away from the police

a/n: hehe my first tig fic! and my first on this account. i had this little idea at exactly 12:26am in the middle of revamping this blog and wanted to write it i shouldve gone to bed, so sorry if this is crap - sleep deprivation is reallll. its also unedited-

part two: you again??

ok so technically you did steal a car.

but come on, the seven police cars driving after you is just a little bit excessive. especially since its not even a decent car... from a junkyard - which to be honest you're still surprised it even started. no even cares about the damn thing except for you and the junkyard owner who apparently has a vendetta against you.

you've met the guy twice, he's a stinky old man who spends most of his days wasted and drunk. and he's never once paid attention to you sneaking in and out basically living in the car you've just stolen. sorry, borrowed.

the red and blue flashing lights bring you back to your current situation and you wince when you shift gears and swing almost violently around the corner into oncoming traffic. swerving around the honking cars and bright lights you manage to merge back into the right lanes and push forward trying to put distance between you and the cops.

you slip through the cars not even caring about the other people at this point. you just need this car. getting a job these days is harder then it seems and you'd just been offered a job with really good pay and the only requirement was you needed your own car to get to and from work.

so seeing as you're an eighteen year old homeless girl with little to no money, temporarily borrowing this car seemed like a really good idea - until it wasn't of course.

pulling over on the side of the road you decide to abandon the car and try to get away on foot - you can always catch the bus right? following the flow of the crowd you swirl your way through checking over your shoulder every few seconds, not even noticing the fact that you've gone up steps and entered a large line until the security guard calls out to you.

"hey kid! ticket?" swinging around you look up to the stern guard.

"pardon?"

"where's your ticket?"

"oh..." you trail off and the guard steps forward.

"miss, do you have a ticket?"

"....no?"

stepping forward the guard starts to reach for his gun. "miss i'm going to need to ask you to leave."

looking behind you, you try and work out your best escape route from the now approaching police men and the menacing guard at your back.

"uh yeah i'm leaving now," you say swinging around and slipping under the guard and bolting through the doors.

you enter probably the grandest entry room ever. its like straight out of a movie with the grand staircases and people in elegant clothing, unfortunately you don't get much time to admire everything with security and police on your ass.

pushing past the shrieking guests aside you run through the crowd to the next room, straight into the middle of... a dinner party.

great.

this is just great.

"GET HER!" the one of the policemen yells from behind you. you take off again rushing past women in fancy dresses and men in tuxes trying your very best not to step on any of their outfits - because hey, you may be homeless dressed like a middle aged man, but damnit you can appreciate a good outfit.

running into a hallway you panic slightly, choosing a random door and slamming it shut. trying to get ahold of your breath you close your eyes and rest your head against the door, taking deep breaths.

a throat clears from behind you and you practically jump out of your skin.

"hello."

"holy shit! doesn't anybody knock these days??" you shriek.

you look around the office trying to find the owner of the voice but to no avail. the office seemed plain enough a large plush chair behind a mahogany desk with sofas and book shelves adorning the sides of the wall.

"hello?" you look around the office again, bending down to check under the desk.

"look up," the voice comes again.

looking up you see the shadow of a boy sitting on the overhanging ledge of the bookshelf.

"who are you?" you ask eyeing the door and wondering if you still have enough time to get away before the police arrive.

"i think we should really be focusing more on you." the boy's voice vibrates through the room. he leans forward to the point of almost falling off the edge but somehow still staying on.

"i'm not important," you say, then motion up to him. "you'll fall."

"i can assure you i won't." for a moment the boy just lingers there before launching himself off the bookshelf and landing on the floor in front of you. "and besides you've piqued my interest." he strolls over to the desk and casually leans against it as if he wasn't a freaking godlike person.

seriously that bookshelf had to be at least three and a half meters tall!

the boy - now that you can see him better - is also godlike in his looks. its devastating how handsome he is. he's around your age with soft brown hair that seemed to be styled when the night began and had fallen across his forehead and his eyes. his eyes were like emeralds sparkling in the moonlight. suddenly you're favourite colour is green.

"now tell me again, who are you?" he grins - its an awful grin, the type that makes you want to die because its so beautiful.

swallowing the lump that formed in your throat you push the words out. "as i said, that's not important. what is important is that you forget you ever saw me."

the boy raises an eyebrow flashing another grin. "i'm afraid i can't do that."

"why?"

"because you are quiet unforgettable."

you freeze for a moment, then roll your eyes. "is that what you tell every girl who barges into a room to hide?"

"ahh so you're hiding?"

clenching your jaw at that slight bit of information you let slip, you nod.

"from?"

"who do you think jackass? i'm dressed like a 1950's street urchin and just crashed probably the most fancy dinner party i'll ever see, so really, who do you think i'm hiding from? fucking peppa pig?"

a loud bang comes from down the hall and you swing around wishing you had ran instead of talking to the mystery boy.

"come here." his voice snaps you out of your panic.

"what?"

"come here, you don't want to be caught? get over here."

narrowing your eyes at him you move closer to him. "what are you gonna do?"

he stares at you for a moment. "can i touch you?"

"WHAT?"

"not like that, god. that's where your mind went? no. i was just being respectful before i kissed you."

that you pause at. "you're going to kiss me?"

"well, with your permission of course."

"you don't have it."

the boy pouts playfully. "why not?"

"because believe it or not, crashing dinner parties and kissing random strangers who's names i don't know isn't something i do on a regular basis."

"well if you don't want to get caught...." he trails off.

"ew so what if i kiss you, you won't give me up? you think you're that good do you?"

"sweetheart, i am that good."

"not helping your case."

"if i kiss you it hides your face, none of them would ever try and cross me," the boy offers grinning again - does he ever stop smiling? seriously its harmful to look at someone this good looking for this amount of time.

"cause you're just that good right?"

"you're a quick learner."

the commotion from outside comes closer and you tense up weighing your options. goddamnit you're gonna have to kiss him.

"fine you have my permission," you huff. "just don't rat me out."

"i would never."

the police must have reached your door because they knock twice asking if someone is inside that they come out now.

"fucking hell," you mutter. "i cannot believe i'm doing this. i don't even know your name."

"don't worry you're in good hands," the boy says his voice low. he wraps his arms around your waist looking at you to make sure its okay.

"if you don't come out now we're coming in!" the voice from outside yells banging against the door twice more.

"by the way, the names jameson," the boy says before he seals his lips to yours and the door is ripped open with men pouring in.

but you hardly notice it. the boy's - jameson as he called himself - lips are warm as the press into yours. its soft but searing sending tingles through your brain. every thought or protest you had fell out of your head and your hands shoot up into his hair as he tightens is own arms around you.

you're so lost in the kiss you don't even hear the men behind you clearing their throats awkwardly.

pulling away jameson looks at you for a moment seemingly just as stunned as you are before he pulls your head to his chest and rests a hand on the back of your hair keeping your face hidden.

"yes?"

"have you seen a girl; brunette, around your age, wearing a black cocktail dress run through here or past here?" one of the officers asks avoiding eye contact.

"what did you say she was wearing again?" jameson asks.

"a black cocktail dress." these are like the worst policemen ever.

"well... yes-" you tense, this is it. this is where he rats you out, motherfuc-"but she went down the hall and through to the ballroom probably hiding in the crowd."

nodding each of the policemen leave the room and storm their way down the hallway. "uh sorry about interrupting you two as well," the last one says on his way out.

when its safe you pull back from jameson and thank him.

"its not over yet," he grins - seriously who decided he should be this handsome? and takes your hand leading you out the room and down the hallway. "follow me."

you slip out through the now empty entryway and run down the stairs together. this feels suspiciously like a romance novel. when you reach the steps you pull jameson to a stop. "wait don't you have to go to this dinner thing?"

"if it means not spending time with you, i'm okay with missing it," he winks.

"nope, you're not trying to flirt your way into being an outlaw with me," you tease.

"it was worth a shot."

smiling up at the boy who let you go free tonight you reach up on your tip toes and place a soft kiss on his cheek. "i'll be seeing ya jameson."

you slip out into the night leaving jameson on the steps. leaving behind the dangerous feeling that you could lose your heart to that boy.

at least you won't see him again.

[taglist] @nqds, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14, @lxvebelle [if you wanted to be added or removed lemme know!]

a/n pt2: i hope you liked it!!

[wonder-innie]

fratboy!bangchan headcanons

frat!chan x female!reader. fluff and smut (mdni)

word count: 588

a.n: english is not my first language.

fratboy!chan falling in love

frat!chan who is so kind to everyone that even the teachers adore him, he also smiles at you although you and him have never talked.

frat!chan who is doing bad in maths so he asks for you help because you are one of the best students of the class and in exchange he will help you get a date with his friend Felix.

frat!chan who comes late to the first meeting in the library so he buys you a coffee and a cinnamon roll.

frat!chan who at first shares chit chats with you during the sessions but eventually is able to have deep conversations, finding out you and him have a lot in common.

frat!chan who offers taking you home after the sessions.

frat!chan who blushes after seeing your laughter for the first time and starts thinking of his best jokes so he can see it again.

frat!chan who is shocked when you give him a hoodie for his birthday and bake cookies.

frat!chan who started putting on his most expensive perfume for every meeting and is kind of sad that he has to help you with your crush.

frat!chan who invites you to a party at Hyunjin’s house so you can talk to Felix.

frat!chan who can’t believe how beautiful you look with the dress you’re wearing for the party and can’t takes his eyes off you, like he is hypnotized.

frat!chan who feels his heart breaking when he see you and Felix talking in a corner and realizes in that exact moment that he is in love with you.

frat!chan who ask you how did it went when you come close to him, and gets surprised when you avoid the question and ask him if he could take you home.

frat!chan who is quiet while driving, something very unusual in him.

frat!chan who once you arrive, confesses his feelings to you, even though he knows you are already in love with Felix.

frat!chan who didn’t expect for you to kiss him and saying that he is the one you love.

fratboy!chan as your boyfriend with smut

frat!chan who shows you off to everyone in the campus, putting his arm around your shoulder.

frat!chan who sends good morning and good night texts everyday, they usually come with a selfie of him.

frat!chan who spend all the study sessions giving you short kisses while rubbing your hand with his thumb.

frat!chan who takes you to a fancy restaurant after passing the math exam, when he comes to pick you up gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

frat!chan who after the dinner invites you to his place and once you arrived to his bedroom, kisses you passionately unbuttoning his shirt.

frat!chan who takes off your clothes and can’t believe he is about to make love to the goddess he is in front of him.

frat!chan who wants to go rough on you but holds back because he wants to make your first time together as romantic and special as posible so he is gentle, even holds your hands.

frat!chan that fucks you in the library to remember the old times, putting his fingers inside your mouth so you can keep quiet. he has to cum inside to avoid leaving evidence.

frat!chan who loves fucking you in the backseat of his car during the breaks, he just can’t control himself when he sees you in the campus looking so damn hot.

frat!chan who after a few months stops using condoms and cums inside if you let him

frat!chan who invites you to another Hyunjin party just to see that dress on you again and fuck you in the bathroom.

check my masterlist

[coldwayhome]

IS IT CASUAL NOW? piper mclean.

synopsis: in which you're "casual" with piper mclean.

tags: 16+ ONLY!!!! suggestive content ahead. mentions of hookups & drinking, both parties are over 21. no graphic nsfw written. some angst & fighting. no set gender, but relationship is implied to be wlw.

notes: soo self indulgent i hope you enjoy <33

✧˚ · .

10:36. she's late.

you paced around the lawn, waiting for her to pull into your driveway. she said 10:30, but she's always running late. you can't blame her for it, she's busy. that's what she tells you at least.

headlights flared, and piper's white jeep speedily pulled up to you.

she asks if you're ready to go, and you feel yourself smile at the sound of her voice. she has you wrapped around her finger (whether she knows it or not).

driving to her apartment is a quick 10 minutes, but feels like ages with her hand tracing your thigh. getting inside her door is better, you think. at least she looks at you.

laying in bed with piper at night was nice. she's sweet to you, kissing the dark purple bruises and wrapping her arms around you when you need it.

but it always made you question things. question things like: what are we? what do you think of me? do you think we'll grow old together?

and when do you know if it's stopped being casual— when you've moved in? it's not like you could ask her, because she just smiles and changes the subject. everyone thinks you're dating and you don't have the heart to correct them. it's nice to think about.

✧˚ · .

you're staring at your disheveled self in the mirror and think: sometimes, you wish you never met her.

what would life be like without piper? this situation with her has been going on for half a year, and she's still shown you no semblance of an official answer.

it doesn't help that you argued in the car. it was about something insignificant to both of you, but you knew there was something beneath the surface she was actually mad about. you chose to not bring it up, and say nothing but a short farewell when you were dropped back off at your house.

✧˚ · .

she says she hates you.

but it's just that she knows your coffee order by heart. and it's just that the passenger seat is adjusted to your liking. and it's just that you've met her parents.

but it's just that that you can see a future with her, and you know she can too.

so you call her. she doesn't pick up at first, but she calls back a few minutes later.

she's guarded; you don't usually call her.

you ask how she is, she says she's fine. you know she's not.

you just want to talk; doesn’t end well.

what, to check on her? she’s fine, don’t call her again.

✧˚ · .

2:12. a text from piper. two words, if you can even call it that.

you up?

no response from you.

three minutes later:

baby please

m sorry

miss u

she’s drunk, for sure. she only gets drunk when she’s trying to drown her feelings. aka, when she knows she fucked up. gods.

you grab your phone to text her: where are you?

no response.

you don’t really have to ask though. if she’s this drunk, she’s at home. hopping in your car with no time for bluetooth, the radio blares whatever station you left it on last. there were no thoughts circling you head other than her.

pushing the door open, you march into piper’s fancy apartment. there she is, sniffling on the floor with her emptied cup of coke & rum that was most likely refilled a couple times.

seeing your face, she attempts to get up off the carpet where she was sitting, but ends up falling over. rushing to her side, you pull her into an embrace and rest on the floor with her.

“i love you.” she slurs.

“stop.” you say, silencing her but not pushing her off.

✧˚ · .

you say won’t live in delusion. you say you hate her. you say piper mclean does not love you.

you, of all people, know that’s not true.

but you have no interest in talking to her about it.

ITS HARD BEING CASUAL WHEN MY FAVORITE BRA IS IN YOUR DRESSER 📢📢🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

where are the piper stans…

[writersdare]

Two Gummy Worms | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke was determined to take Y/N on a night drive. Some things, though, didn't want to go according to his perfect plan.

Warning: friends to lovers, fluff, mentioning of food

Word Count: 1 503

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: Honestly I enjoyed writing it so much, it gave me some sense of comfort, and I really hope you'll feel it as well once you read it ♡ Also, yes, I am obsessed with Luke's blue eyes, you can't take it from me...

A calm evening was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Y/N lazily got up from a couch and wandered into the hall, feeling tiredness with her whole body. Someone celebrated Fridays with friends in local bars, Y/N, though, preferred to spent it quietly that time. Watching a silly show on Netflix, she’s been wrapping herself up in an old blanket, which was given by her friend Luke few years ago. Maybe – only maybe – it was fair to correct that the poor blanket was actually stolen from him, however, in Y/N’s defence, Luke didn’t use it much anyway, so the girl only borrowed something he never needed. 

Possibly, the stolen blanket made the guy to come over uninvited; in any case, once Y/N opened the door, she saw the friend on the threshold of her apartment.

“Let’s go,” without a proper greeting, Luke grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her out of the house.

“Where?” the girl stumbled, trying her best to stay where she was. Y/N was in her PJs, the hair was carelessly tide up in something close to a ponytail — the look that simply screamed “I’m staying in today”.

“For a drive. I’ll bring you back in few hours,” he promised, sounding both calm and determined.

“I warned you hours ago that I’m not going!” Y/N outraged, ignoring the fact that her friend drove all the way out there. The girl made it clear in her message that even though his adventitious idea sounded nice, she simply did not have any powers left for the trip. The tiredness was the size of the passing week, which fell on her shoulders sharply once Y/N entered home that evening.  

“It’s just few hours!” he whined and suddenly lifted the friend from the ground to bring her to the car himself. It was almost ten o’clock in the evening, and Y/N was getting cold. 

“Gosh, wait! Let me get changed at least,” the girl rolled the eyes, smiling a bit and still trying to set herself free. 

“Five minutes,” Luke warned, and once he put her on the ground, Y/N hurried up inside. She hoped to shut the door in his face, however, the guy foresaw it well, so he managed to slip through the door quicker. A wide smile appeared on his face. 

Even though the whole idea of going somewhere so late didn’t really excite Y/N, once she was in the car, checking all the snacks Luke bought them for the little trip, the girl thought that, perhaps, it was a nice distraction from her exhaustion for an hour or so. 

“You didn’t need to change, you looked pretty earlier, too,” Luke spoke up, glancing at Y/N who was chewing gummy worms and time to time placing few in his mouth as well.  

“That’s sudden,” the girl chuckled, trying to ignore a quick shutter of her heart. The girl fancied her friend for quite some time, but it was not as scary as dangerous to reveal her feelings. Y/N didn’t want to ruin their friendship. “Be honest, you just wanted me to get sick. I was freezing cold, by the way!”

“Well, if you didn’t hesitate for so long, you would be in the car a while ago, enjoying my company and food.”

“Thank you for mentioning food, I’d put it on the first place, though,” Y/N laughed shortly, looking at the window. Even though it was late, the lights were illuminating the road, and quite soon she started to see untouched fields, passing by. “Also, I wasn’t hesitant, I told you right away I wasn’t going.”

“Here you are with an urge to reply on everything,” Luke rolled his eyes jokingly and glanced at Y/N again. He liked how cozy and comfortable she looked at that moment. It was actually rather precious to know that a person he cared about so much trusted him, fully.

“You are the same,” the girl reminded and, giggling, put another gummy worm, a blue one, in his mouth. “Suits your eyes.”

The musician chuckled, barely being able to chew the marmalade.

“A worm?”

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed back and smiled vividly. “I like your eyes,” she mumbled and looked away, feeling too overwhelmed. If only he could be hers, and she could be his…

“So, we have a problem,” Luke announced, when about thirty minutes were left from the final destination. The guy was planning to show Y/N a sunflower field, but GPS suddenly stopped working properly. However, the guy was sure he remembered the way there so didn’t worry too much. Until…

Y/N turned her head towards a friend and frowned a little.

“Are you going to keep holding the dramatic pause or will just tell me?” she smiled, though, not even thinking there could be something serious.  

“Yeah, well,” Luke hesitated and glanced at a dashboard of the car. He still couldn’t believe what he saw. “Apparently, I forgot to refuel and noticed only now…”

“You are joking,” Y/N raised up in a seat to check it herself. “How could you forget?”

“I don’t know!” Luke outraged, slowing down the speed of the car. “I was in a hurry cause I wanted to make a good surprise for you!”

“Well, it is a good surprise after all, Luke!” Y/N giggled, not being mad for some reason. “Let me find the closest gas station,” she mumbled and opened her phone to check a map. The girl didn’t hear how her friend mumbled quietly “go for it”, as he already knew that GPS stopped working twenty minutes ago.

“Okay, so… we’re in the middle of nowhere,” she announced dramatically, zooming in and out on the map. “It doesn’t work. How much gas is left? Maybe we should go back,” Y/N sighed, once Luke stopped the car on the side of the road. He was upset. “Hey, that’s alright,” the girl smiled and unfastened her seat belt to sit sideways to the windshield, facing the musician. The girl gently placed her palms on his cheeks and nodded. “I’m not mad, it’s still a fun trip. After all, it wouldn’t be us if it didn’t end up like this, don’t you think?” she chuckled kindly.

Luke hurried up to cover her palms with his, being scared she’d break the touch too soon.

“We still can stay here for some time? Before going back?” he suggested carefully.

Y/N nodded, feeling the pulsation of her heartbeat almost in a throat. If only she could kiss him, and he could kiss her…

“Y/N,” Luke spoke up, and the voice was hoarse. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I guess there is something I needed to tell you,” he started, immediately regretting it, though. How was he supposed to tell her that? Was it a bad timing? It probably was. There was no where to go, and if… if Y/N didn’t feel the same way it’d be hell awkward. He really didn’t think it through…

“Again?”

“What?”

“You need to tell me something else? I thought we’re done with surprises,” she giggled, fooling around a bit, as Y/N could see how anxious Luke started to look all of a sudden.

“Oh, no, that’s the main surprise, I guess,” the guy chuckled and looked down only for a moment. The fear took him over, though, and he rested his palms on the knees, so Y/N pulled away from him. “No, actually, forget about it.”

“No.”

Luke looked up at the friend, being surprised.

“What do you mean “no"?…”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I waited for too long to allow you to step back once again,” Y/N shook her head, getting annoyed. Why was he so uncertain sometimes? She was sitting there, next to him, worrying that her heart would break the chest, and he couldn’t say few simple words?… “Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints! How can you keep doubting if I feel the same way you do?”

“How do you– How do you know?…” Luke mumbled, staring at Y/N. The guy couldn’t hide his terror. So she knew? All that time?!

“Honestly, it seems like it’s only you who is blind here,” the girl smiled sadly and looked down, feeling ridiculous.

Another second, though, she felt Luke’s hand on the chin. He carefully lifted her face so the girl could look at him before he covered Y/N’s lips with his. The kiss was tender and gentle, slowly changing into a more passionate one. They both just couldn’t believe it took them that long to confess. And honestly, who knew how long it’d have still taken if Y/N had kept silence. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, touching her forehead with his.

“You already did,” the girl whispered back and, smiling, pressed the lips against his in another kiss.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl, @yukichan67

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @calmfolklore & @kaleidoscopeminds –

Moodboard ♡

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Taglist

[tarabyte3]

The Fear Has Gripped Me, but Here I Go

(13.4k)

Fandom: The Accused (BBC)

Pairing: Liam Black/F!Reader

Summary: It was so easy to develop a crush on Liam Black. He's sweet, handsome, funny, and all of your conversations feel effortless. How could you not? Maybe it was too easy because you're starting to fall a little deeper and you can't stop calling him whenever you need a taxi.

Warnings: Explicit rating, sex, car sex, semi public sex, unprotected sex, adultery, cheating, lying, mutual pinning, romance, angst

A/N: This is a fic about the character Liam Black played by Andy Serkis in the BBC anthology show The Accused. In the show, he breaks into a woman's house, steals from her, stalks her, uses that information to get her to like him, interferes with her life, etc. None of that is shown or stated in this fic, but if you’ve watched the show, you can infer a LOT about their interactions. In the show, he also cheats on his wife and lies to both her and the other woman. That IS in this fic. Unfortunately, Liam Black is one of my poor little meow meows, so this story is also intended to be romantic. I do not condone cheating (obviously). This is fiction. It's just that Liam is a sympathetic creep, but also I want to kiss him. (Andy Serkis has rotted my brain.) | Work title is from “Breezeblocks” by alt-J.

Playlist | AO3

It's distressingly easy to get sucked into the gravity of Liam Black. The way he looks at you—stolen glances in the rearview mirror when he thinks you won't notice—makes you feel special. Beautiful.

Something worth marveling at.

That should be a red flag, but you can't remember the last time someone looked at you like that. It's more than being appreciated for your appearance or checked out by a stranger. It's as if your presence is a bright spot in his day. In the same way he might stop to appreciate the view of a valley brimming with flowers or a sunrise after a particularly long night. His expression, one of awe.

Every bit of conversation between the two of you feels so natural, too. Effortless. Like meeting up with an old friend only to pick up right where you left off years ago. And he makes you laugh in a way you haven't in so long, as if he knows the exact thing to say to get you to smile. Even when you've had a rotten day.

Especially when you've had a rotten day.

So you keep calling him when you need a ride.

After all, Liam gave you his number for that very reason, you tell yourself. It's much easier than arranging a taxi because you deal with him directly. You know it will be him showing up at your door, and he already knows where you live and is familiar with the drive. Why wouldn't you call him?

At least that's how it started. Weeks ago.

Eventually any small excuse became a reason to phone him instead of driving yourself. “Parking will be a nightmare.” “I'd rather not fight with traffic.” “What if I want to have a drink during dinner with my friends?” “I swear my car made a strange noise this morning. I shouldn't drive it until I can get it looked at, and the shop is booked out a week.”

Deep down you know it's because you want that connection. You want his attention on you. You want to catch those blue eyes in the mirror. To see the profile of his nose and warm smile from the backseat. The greying scruff of his beard. The casual flex of his arms on the steering wheel—far more muscular than you would have expected from a driver and deceptively so under his polos because the way the fabric stretches around his biceps is…enticing.

It's just a crush, you tell yourself. Nothing more than a passing fancy. It's nice to have something to indulge in. It's perfectly harmless.

But then one night, you're in Liam’s taxi because you're headed to meet some friends to see a play—your favorite play—only to discover it's his favorite play, too.

So the two of you talk enthusiastically about it the entire drive there, quoting lines and debating character motivations and themes. Once you arrive at the theater, you find that you're very disappointed to be getting out of the car. You were enjoying yourself so much that it went by too fast.

“If you need a ride home afterwards, just let me know, love.” He turns in his seat to smile at you, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that's endearing. Earnest.

“It'll be awfully late.” You can't help but smile back, even as you wave off his suggestion. “I can just flag a taxi.”

“I'll already be out. It's no trouble, really,” he insists while holding up a placating hand. Then his expression softens. “A lovely woman like you shouldn't be waiting that late by yourself anyway. It's dangerous.”

You want to protest further. To say your friends will be there, too, and you'll hardly be alone. That you don't want to be a bother. But, god, he called you lovely and he looks so hopeful. Those blue eyes bore into yours and pierce your defenses. The words die on your lips.

You relent.

You'll text him from the lobby after the show, you agree. He'll come get you then.

You've never texted him before. Somehow that feels more intimate than calling him and hearing the rough timbre of his voice.

The play is wonderful.

Your favorite character was perfectly cast, and his delivery of a line makes you think of Liam—the way he quoted it from the driver's seat a mere hour before, the parody of a serious expression on his face that made you laugh. He smiled at you then, all unmasked adoration, and your heart flutters at the memory.

When it's over, you text him before you've even left your seat.

As you resist the urge to impatiently push your way through the throng of people heading for the lobby, you tell your friends you couldn't possibly go out for drinks afterwards. You're tired and you have an early morning, but you'll take that rain check! Next time, you promise. You'll even buy a round! And that seems to placate them enough that they're on their way without you.

Before they can see you getting into his cab. Before they can look too closely and see what you're trying so desperately to deny to yourself: That you're more excited to see him than you are at the thought of spending time with them.

That you want this thing you shouldn't want.

He must have been close because he's already idling in wait as you exit the building. Your expression brightens at the sight of him waving at you from the driver's window, his face bathed in the marquee lights. The bulbs reflect in his eyes, tiny pin pricks like stars, and it sets your heart racing.

Christ, he's handsome.

You briefly wonder if he stayed in the area just for you. You can't deny you like the thought, even as you try to bury it down. That's something you can dig back up and indulge in later. When you're alone.

“How was the play, love?” He asks back at you once you've settled in and closed the door. The sounds outside become muted, trapping an artificial intimacy in with you.

“Fantastic! Oh, you would have loved it,” you sigh as you buckle yourself in. “You really should get tickets while it's still going.”

“Maybe I should.” He glances one last time out the window at the people still spilling from the front doors before slowly pulling away from the curb. “I might fit in better with the matinee crowd, though.”

Your head snaps up towards him. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I'm just a lowly taxi driver. Not really night at the theater material.”

“Nonsense.” You furrow your brows at him, as though you're offended on his behalf. “You aren't just anything, and there's nothing lowly about being a taxi driver. Plus, there are no requirements for going to see a play. Art is for everyone.”

He smiles to himself, almost amused by your reaction. “It'd still be sad, yeah? A man going to the theater all by himself.”

“Not at all!” You try to ignore the thrill in your chest at the implication that he doesn't have a partner. It's something you've suspected based on past conversations, but refused to ask outright. That would have been too much like showing real interest. “I've gone by myself loads of times.”

“Really?” There's a note of disbelief in his voice, and he glances up at you in the mirror. “A beautiful woman like you, without a date?”

A heat creeps over your cheeks. You bite at your bottom lip and glance out the window to hide it. You're suddenly glad for the late hour so he can't see the bashfulness in your reflection.

“Now you sound like my mother,” you tease, trying to deflect the comment.

His laughter rings out through the car. “Oh god, I take it back!”

“Besides, it's not always easy to get a date last minute, romantic or platonic. Is it?” You raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. “Why don't you take one?”

This is the closest you've come to prying because, now that he's alluded to the fact that he's available, you can't help yourself. You have to know. Whether that's to satisfy some curiosity or because a part of you has a vested interest in his answer, you're not sure.

“If you can't get one last minute, then what hope does a washed up old driver like myself have?”

And now you know. Which actually makes all of this feel so much worse because, under the serene veil of passing street lights and quiet roads, the lines are beginning to blur.

You also want to open your mouth and say something stupid like, “Then they're idiots,” or “You’re far from washed up,” and maybe even “I’d go with you.” But you know the second that you do, it pushes this beyond the bounds of rides and cautious flirting.

You don't even know if Liam would want that. What if he's only being nice? You don't know how he talks to his other passengers. Maybe he finds the flirting fun and harmless, too, and he's not actually interested in anything more. Maybe he enjoys being your friend.

Or maybe you’re only projecting what you want to see because you're lonely and he’s easy to talk to—the first man to really pay attention to you in longer than you’d care to admit. You might just end up embarrassing yourself.

Instead, you scoff and say, “Well, it doesn't matter anyway because it's perfectly acceptable to go alone and have a lovely time.”

Regret pools in your stomach. You can't help but feel you missed an opportunity. It's too late now, though. As he chuckles warmly from the front seat and shifts his attention to the road, you know the moment has passed. Bringing it up again, saying those words out loud, will give you away.

There's a silence after that, which stretches on for several minutes. A few weeks ago it might have been comfortable, but now you can't stand it. You only get a few of these moments with him and you're nearly halfway home already. It might be a while before you see him again after this. You're wasting it!

“God, I wish I had walked the block to get a takeout after the show. I'm suddenly starving,” you blurt out, lacking anything else to say, but desperate for any chance at small talk to close the gap between you.

“Want me to stop off somewhere?” He glances up at you in the mirror.

“No!” You immediately protest, a little embarrassed. You had expected this to turn into a conversation about your favorite kinds of takeout or foods so you could learn more about him. You hadn't expected him to offer anything. “No, it's fine. It was just a terrible attempt at making conversation. I swear I'll live.”

“I can if you’d like.”

“It's already so late. Don't trouble yourself. Really!” You aren't even hungry.

When did this become so difficult? When did you go from enjoying his attention to craving it this much?

“I don't have another ride after this.” His voice lowers, barely audible now over the hum of the engine. “And I've already told you, love. For you it's never any trouble.”

Oh. The uncertainty gives way to a warmth in your chest. It settles deep into your ribs and wraps itself around your heart. How could you possibly say no now?

You also know the answer to your questions then: It became difficult when, somewhere along the way, this stopped being just a simple, harmless crush.

“Okay.” Then you hurry to add, “But only if you're sure!”

“Positive.” His profile shifts as he smiles at the road, pleased you’ve accepted his offer.

“There's Chinese on the way. Over by the old Tesco? The one that closed a few months ago?”

“I know it.”

“It's not the best, but it's open until eleven. I can order it now so you don't have to wait too long.” Then you get an idea. “Do you like noodles? Or maybe fried rice? My treat.” You hold up a finger at him when he opens his mouth to protest. “You’re nice enough to stop when you don't have to, it's the least I can do to say thank you.”

“Alright,” he sighs, his shoulders going slack with acceptance. There's something tender in his expression as his smile widens, which only makes your heart constrict further. “Yeah, I'd love some noodles.”

“Then noodles it is.” You place the order on your phone as a silence settles back over the car.

All that fuss and your attempt at conversation didn't even work.

At least you get to buy him dinner, technically speaking. But you're going to do everything you can not to dwell on that right now. Especially now that you’ve realized how far this has evolved.

A few minutes and a short detour later, and he's pulling alongside the curb once again.

“I'll be right back,” you promise before hurrying out into the night.

You feel oddly self conscious of every step as you cross the street because you can feel his eyes on you the entire way. Watching you.

He probably wants to make sure you don't get mugged or something, you tell yourself. He’s keeping an eye on you. That's all. There's no reason for your pulse to be this high.

And yet, if there's a bit more sway to your hips as you walk in the hopes it draws his gaze lower…that's just more fun, harmless flirting. Isn't it?

You're not sure anymore.

At this hour, so near to closing, the restaurant is empty. There's even someone taking down tables in the dining area. The sight of it makes you feel guilty as you give them a nod of greeting. Your disastrous attempt at small talk probably prevented the kitchen from being in the same half cleaned state as well. Just add it to the list of inconveniences, you think.

It only takes a few more minutes for your order to be finished, much to your relief. You’d hate to keep Liam waiting because it's already fourteen to eleven, and you don't want him to start regretting being nice. It also means you don't have time to stand there and start second guessing yourself either, which is the last thing you need right now.

When you exit the restaurant, you notice the air has shifted. It smells damp now, like it might rain. Even the night sky is quickly growing darker as the stars are swallowed by clouds, all the telltale signs of an encroaching late summer storm. So you jog back towards the cab, clutching the takeout bag and praying it holds off.

But as your fingers brush the door handle, you hesitate.

It's late and there's not another car or soul on the street. It's just the two of you, and you've gotten both of you food. It seems almost silly to sit in the backseat now, or to pretend there's much of a separation anymore. Even as friends.

That's what you tell yourself as you head to the passenger door instead.

Liam doesn't say anything. He just watches you climb into the front seat of his taxi. When you finally meet his eyes, you can see uncertainty on his face, but of what you're not sure.

“Is this okay?” You keep the door held open in doubt, giving yourself the option of escape. “I thought it would be easier...you know, with the food.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, and the wary, low gravel of it matches his expression. He glances down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, it's fine.”

Far too late you wonder if you've made a mistake.

“I'm sorry,” you gasp as you move for the door. “I should have asked first. I can get in back.”

“Wait!” His hand shoots out as if he wants to grab your arm—to keep you there—but he stops just short of touching you, still keeping that distance. He lets it hover for a second, hesitant, before lowering it back to his seat, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. Your skin tingles at the near contact. “Stay. Please.”

You take a moment to study his face, to make sure it's actually what he wants. That he isn't just being polite now that you're already in, despite his own comfort.

The genuine plea you see there makes your heart ache.

“Okay,” you say softly.

You shut the door.

Then it's quiet once again except for the rustling of the bag as you settle it on your lap. Except now there's a tension in the air that's never been there before. It's as if you brought the storm into the cab with you and have just sealed it inside. Maybe you have made a mistake.

This had always been so easy.

When there was the clear separation of a car seat between you, you both knew where you stood. Liam up front, you in back. Driver and passenger. The physical distance kept things safe. Without that, you feel unsteady, too—unsure of how to act and unsure where this is going.

You think about that heavy scent of ozone and warm concrete on the breeze outside—about the possibility of rain—and suddenly you know what you want. You know why you got in front and what your heart has been telling you all night: You want to see your possibility. What this thing between you could be.

Despite your nerves, you want him. All you have to do is continue closing the distance.

You're pretty sure that you can't make things any more awkward than they already are, at the very least. Even if you somehow manage it, you doubt he’ll throw you out of his taxi. Why would he? He’s only ever been sweet to you. So the worst he can say is no, you think, as if that wouldn't break your heart.

“I don't know how you feel about food in your cab, but we could sit here and eat before it gets cold. Together. If you want.” You try to sound casual, but hope bleeds into your voice and betrays the truth of what you're really offering him: you. Something more.

You spent weeks being careful to never cross that line while telling yourself that's what you actually wanted. That you were fine simply having something to indulge in. But now that you've finally done it, you don't know why it took you so long or how you’ve been so blind. Because as you look at him, with his snug polo, trimmed hair and beard, his full lips, and his hooded blue eyes, you wouldn't take it back for anything.

Only…that uncertainty reappears on his face. An internal struggle which deepens the lines on his forehead, pinches his brow, and causes his mouth to thin into a frown. He knows agreeing to this would mean crossing that line with you and moving forward. Except where you have hope, he seems conflicted by the possibility.

You wonder if all the flirting and stolen glances felt harmless to him, too, because he never dreamed you’d want him back. And now that you do…

“You don't need to be getting home? It's late," he says helplessly. Half-heartedly. That's when you realize: he thinks he should tell you no, but he just can't bring himself to say it. So he's offering you an excuse instead, hoping that you’ll do it for him.

Of all the ways you saw this going, you never imagined this—that he would want you and still reject you.

You want so badly to ask why, to understand, but this hurts more than a simple no would, and the fear of what he might say stills your tongue. It could just be self-deprecation on his part, the ingrained belief that he's a washed up old driver…but what if the reason is you? Imagining the pity on his face as he tries to let you down gently turns your stomach.

Despite that, you find you can't say no either. Now that you've finally realized that you want this, how do you let it go? To be the one to end it before it's even begun. You don't have the strength.

You suppose that makes the both of you cowards.

“I've got nowhere to be tomorrow, but if you do, that's alright, Liam,” you offer instead. A lie the two of you can cling to. “I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have.”

He shakes his head. “That's not it.”

Oh.

“Either way, don't worry about it,” you quickly blurt out to stop him from saying anything more. “Forget I said—”

“No!” His voice breaks as he interrupts you, stunning you to silence. “No.”

He struggles for a moment to find the words while searching your face, as if he might find the answer there. As if you might make it easier for him somehow. He must find something because then he's staring at you with the determination of a man who's made a decision, consequences be damned, and you let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you’d been holding.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Your heart falters for a moment, lurching with violence against your ribcage, before it stutters with renewed hope.

There's a rumble of thunder outside—the sound of possibility shifting into inevitability.

“Me either,” you whisper.

“Then, yeah.” His face softens. And he’s back to looking at you in a way you’re used to, the way he secretly would in his rearview mirror, but something between you has shifted. There's a new intensity to his gaze that takes your breath away. “I’d love to.”

“I’m glad.” Feeling bold at that look in his eyes and desperate to ease some of the lingering tension, you add, “Besides, this is much better than eating reheated takeout alone in my apartment. The company is far better.”

You can tell it works when he relaxes further in his seat.

“Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah.”

“And I suppose it does smell really good, yeah? Be a shame to waste it.”

“It really does.” You huff out a laugh as you dig into the bag, relieved to have something to do with your hands that isn't clenching them uselessly in your lap. “Plus, now you don't have to listen to my stomach growl for the rest of the drive.”

He laughs along with you, but it quickly turns into a teasing grin. “Well, I’m glad I could save you the embarrassment.”

“My hero,” you say playfully, which finally earns you a full, real smile. The kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat. Before you can get distracted staring at him, you pull out the disposable utensils and hold them up between you. “Now, fork or chopsticks?"

He sheepishly takes the fork, and it's your turn to give him a teasing grin.

You fall back into easy conversation as you both tuck into your takeout containers. The tension between you is gone now, having dissipated under the familiar—though it'll be impossible to forget just how close he is or the way he lingers in your field of vision no matter where you look.

You’ve positioned yourself in your seat so you're half facing him, and you notice he's removed his seatbelt and done the same. There's an intimacy to the way both of your knees are turned in towards each other, unable to touch but still seeking one another out.

There it is again, you think. The gravity of him, pulling you in. You bend to him like light.

While you eat, it begins to rain. Or rather, it begins to downpour, the drops thumping and echoing off the metal body of the taxi. They coat the windows in streaks, leaving the world outside blurred—a hazy refraction of streetlights and muted color.

The combination of darkness and being shut inside the car already made it feel like there was a barrier separating the two of you from the outside, but now you feel even more cocooned from the rest of the world. In fact, you’re finding it hard to remember anything else exists beyond the interior of this cab. This moment.

Him.

Another silence settles over you as you eat and listen to the rain, but this one is comforting. As though just existing next to each other is enough. It's easy in a way that makes your heart sing.

He breaks it by clearing his throat.

“Seriously, how do you use those? I’ve never gotten the hang of it.” He gestures to your hand holding the chopsticks.

You pause mid bite, your food frozen in the air as you look up at him. “Do you want me to show you?”

“You can try, but I should warn you, I'm all thumbs when it comes to that,” he laughs and looks away, self-conscious.

You’ve seen that expression on his face a few times now. Glimpses past the easy smiles and the effortless conversations into how he sees himself. You wonder again if that was the reason he hesitated earlier. Suddenly you want to show him the man you see. The one that’s attentive when you speak and makes you feel seen. Who always cheers you up with his presence and went out of his way when you said you were hungry. The man who's never said no to you, even when you’ve called him at the last minute and were certain he was busy.

You wish you could find the way to say all of that out loud.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow and stick the uneaten bite back into the container. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It's really not,” he says with a helpless laugh, but you're determined now.

You get a fresh set for him. Then you go about demonstrating the placement in your hand and the way you use your fingers to manipulate the utensils to pick up your food. He copies you, though his own movements are stiff and awkward. There's also a vulnerability to the way he keeps glancing up at you to see if he's doing it correctly and looking for approval.

“You’ve almost got it! It just takes practice,” you reassure him. He gives you a small smile in return, his blue eyes full of gratitude. When he tries again, he’s more relaxed and confident, and the chopsticks move with far more ease.

It's a much better look on him, you think.

You also spend the entire time resisting the urge to reach out and shape his fingers around the thin pieces of wood. Because if you touched his hands, god help you, you might not be able to stop. The idea is so tempting, though, and it only gets worse the longer you focus on the curve and press of his thick fingers.

You imagine what it would be like to have them grazing over your cheek and down your neck, or dipping along your inner thigh and dragging against your slit. There's a sudden throb of need between your legs at the thought. Now the air of the cab feels stifling, electric with a different energy, but he's so focused on what he's doing, he doesn't seem to notice the way you squirm in your seat.

Instead, you offer tips to help him get it right—from a distance, where it's safe for the time being and you're less likely to do something brash, like grab him and kiss him.

After some more practice, he makes a few unsuccessful attempts to eat and has to stop to pick dropped noodles off of his shirt and lap with a sigh while you giggle next to him. Until, finally, an entire bite makes it from the takeout container to his mouth without spilling.

“I did it!” He beams proudly at you as he chews, those blue eyes now wide and lit up with excitement. And god, it's adorable…except there's a bit of noodle stuck in his beard. You press your lips together to keep from bursting into laughter at him in his moment of triumph. He catches on anyway, and his face falls slightly in confusion. "What?"

"You've got some noodle. Right here." You point at your own face.

He quickly runs a hand over his mouth to wipe it away, but all that does is push the noodle farther down his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No!" You snort out a sharp laugh at his look of panic. So he sets his takeout carton on the center console near the gearshift for a more serious attempt, but his palm scrapes uselessly at his face again. “It's lower now.”

“Glad you're enjoying this.” He tries to sound offended, but there's a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he feels around for the elusive bit of food, betraying how much he’s enjoying this, too.

"Here." You set your takeout next to his. And then you don't think before you lean across the center console, your hand stretched out and reaching towards him. "It's right…"

You genuinely meant to help and put him out of his misery, but by the time you realize what you're doing, your fingertips are already brushing through the coarse hair of his beard, the why of it completely forgotten. Now you can no longer help yourself. You’ve finally touched him, and he feels so warm and alive beneath your hand.

Your fingers curl against his chin. Then, almost with a mind of their own, they inch towards his jaw, seeking more. You want to run them over his cheeks. His temple. His smile lines. Along the bridge of his nose. His lips. You want to feel out every bit of his face and commit it to memory.

You don't want to let go.

And you nearly don’t stop until a heavy exhale from him sends you crashing back to reality. The one where you're basically groping him instead of helping. You also notice the noodle bit has long since fallen away and landed somewhere unseen onto his lap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You gasp in horror. You start to pull away to search for it because, after that, you're too embarrassed to even look at him. But you’ve barely removed your hand when he grabs your wrist, firmly keeping you in place just inches from his face. Your eyes snap up to meet his.

Neither of you moves. Or speaks.

For several tense seconds, the only sound in the car is the rhythmic patter of rain and your heavy breathing as you stare at each other.

The moment stretches between you like a wire, thick and coiled taut, and you're terrified to pull away. Or push closer. As if doing so might snap the tension and ruin whatever this is. Instead, you sit there, frozen at the way his eyes become half-lidded, barely lessening the now undisguised longing in his gaze.

Just when you think it's become too much and you're going to break under the intensity of it all, his thumb brushes against the delicate skin of your wrist, directly over your pulse, sending a shiver through you. And that small touch alone is enough to make all of this profoundly, achingly, real. Distantly you wonder if he can feel the frantic drumming of your heart. Because by now it's pounding so hard with anticipation, your ribs flex with every beat.

He brings your hand back towards his face and rests it against his cheek. As he does, you're mortified to realize you're trembling in his grasp. He must notice as well because, without a word, he flattens his own hand over yours, anchoring and calming between beard and flesh. His eyes dip nearly closed at the sensation, and he nuzzles into your touch, letting the corner of his mouth graze your palm.

You watch as there's the slightest purse of his lips, a shade of a kiss onto your skin, and you suck in a gasp.

He reaches out for you, then. You think he's going to mimic the gesture and cup your face, but instead his knuckles graze along your cheek. He takes a moment to trace and explore the contour of your cheekbone in awe before continuing on, gliding past the shell of your ear, until he's cupping the back of your neck instead with his thumb resting on your jaw. His hand feels massive as it envelops you, the span of it completely covering your nape, making you feel bird-boned in his grasp. But everything about his touch is so tender, so affectionate, that it never occurs to you to feel vulnerable.

Quite the opposite. Combined with his captivated expression, which is so intense that it borders on grief, he's found a new way to make you feel special.

Wanted.

Gently, he begins to guide you towards him as he leans in and stares at your lips. There's no doubting his intentions.

You go willingly. Lead to him. Pulled to him. Sucked so far into that gravity, you’d still be moving even if he let go.

"Liam," you exhale into the shrinking space between you, finally giving voice to your desire.

His fingers flex against your neck at the sound of his name, but he still doesn't stop or speak. His hand continues to guide you closer. Slow and steady. As if he's giving you plenty of time to put an end to this. To pull away and tell him you don't want it. But you do. You want it so much that you almost forget to breathe.

As his lips ghost against yours, your eyes flutter shut. You instinctively push forward, trying to close the distance between you, but he moves away before you can fully capture his mouth. Then he goes back to brushing his lips over yours, cutting off your protest and taking in your sighs and quivers.

It's almost teasing, the way he's taking his time and savoring every step of this—of you—and there's a confidence to his movements you weren't expecting. As if, now that he's gotten you, he knows exactly what he wants to do with you while you're swept along in his wake.

Except you’ve thought about this moment so many times. Indulged in the fantasy of what it might feel like to have his lips against you as his tongue eagerly explores the heat of your mouth. Now you're so close to getting what you want, too, and the anticipation is building into an agonized yearning every second he’s just out of reach.

You're on the verge of whimpering or pleading when he finally, truly, kisses you.

Any thought you might have had is gone. The pressure of his lips, his mouth slotting against yours, his relieved exhale across your skin—the combination makes you dizzy with need. A moan is torn from your throat.

The sound breaks whatever gentle spell had a hold of him because, just like that, his arms are around you, and he's kissing you hungrily.

At first it's desperate. Nothing more than a messy searching of lips before you find your rhythm. Then every bit of it is better than you imagined—the scrape of his beard, his nose nudging into yours, a brief graze of his tongue along your bottom lip before it retreats, leaving you wanting more. And god, do you want more.

As if he knows what you're thinking—or maybe you've said it out loud—he tightens his hold around you and pulls you towards his seat, his mouth never leaving yours. But you don't have time to admire how strong he is as you scramble blindly to get your legs under you. In your haste, your knee hits one of the takeout containers, which sends it toppling over.

You break the kiss to gasp out, "I think it spilled."

"I don't care," he murmurs and captures your mouth again. This time his tongue lingers at the seam of your lips. As you open up to him and taste him for the first time, you decide you don't care either.

You finish climbing into his lap. Every movement is clumsy in the limited space, all groping hands and fumbling limbs. You have to squeeze past the steering wheel and keep your head low so you don't bump it into the roof of the cab. The position is also a bit awkward as you try to find enough purchase to settle your knees on either side of his hips. You even have to adjust your dress to keep it from getting in the way, which forces the hem mid thigh.

None of that matters once you're finally settled. Because, when you lower your weight into his lap, you find him rock hard beneath you. And the only thing separating your bare sex from that impressive bulge in his pants is a pair of lacy panties. You can almost feel the warmth of his cock radiating through the denim.

"Fuck, Liam," you hiss.

You can't start grinding onto him just yet, though, because he quickly reaches between you to adjust himself over his jeans. It's something so intimate and casual—something he has to do because of you—that it's devastatingly sexy. That alone is enough to make your cheeks and neck burn. But when his hand grips over the tented fabric and slides along his length, for a brief moment it sharpens the outline of his erection in his fist, and it sends heat racing between your thighs, leaving you aching. Your hips shift involuntarily at the sudden pressure.

“Better,” he sighs in relief. Then his hands squeeze around your waist to drag you down as his hips roll up to meet you, and you see stars.

Before you’ve even recovered, he draws you back in for another heated kiss. You're so fixated on his mouth, so ravenous for him, you don't notice when he blindly gropes between the seat and the door. So when the seat tilts back all the way without warning, you barely catch yourself with your hands at the last minute to stop from falling forward and smashing your face into his. The motion is such a jolt that you cry out in surprise against his lips. You feel his curl into a smile.

It doesn't last long. The new angle gives your hips the freedom of movement to slide over the full length of him, and the friction makes your arousal thrum with anticipation. His eyes roll shut with a groan.

While he’s distracted, you take a moment to appreciate him like this—the flutter of his eyelashes, his kiss swollen lips, and the way the rain dappled streetlight bathes over his flushed skin. When he opens his eyes again and catches you staring, his expression softens.

Your breath hitches at the sight. Christ, he’s so fucking handsome.

You suddenly realize you don't have to just look anymore. Despite the heat of this moment, you can finally satisfy the urge to run your fingers over his face. So, without hesitation, you reach out and touch his jaw again. Only this time, you don't stop. You gently map out all of his lines and wrinkles, relish the contrast in softness between his skin and beard, and trace along his lips—all while he stares up at you in half-lidded awe.

“God, you're amazing, love.” His voice is low and gravelly as he nuzzles up against your jaw. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

Your eyes fall closed with a shiver, letting the vibrations of it wash over you, but you don't respond. How can you? What could you possibly say to that? 

His thumb caresses over your cheek.

“Look at me,” he coaxes in a soft tone. You slowly open your eyes again to meet his. When you do, he gives you a gentle smile. “I mean it. I've wanted you from the moment you got into my cab.”

Oh.

“I want you, too, Liam,” you finally admit quietly, your own voice thick with emotion.

“I'm still trying to let that sink in.” He shakes his head. “That someone as incredible as you could want someone like me.”

“Of course I do. How could I not?” You sound defensive, but you can't help it. You feel that familiar need to make him see himself the way you do. “I think you're amazing, too.”

“Jesus.” He lets out a heavy sigh. Then he glances down between you, seemingly overwhelmed by your statement.

“Why do you think I kept calling you?” You chuckle breathlessly. “I’ve been making plans and finding any excuse I could just so I had a reason to see you and be in your cab. You had to have suspected I didn't actually need that many rides.”

“I hoped.” His eyes meet yours again and that intensity is back. The muscle in his jaw clenches, making your heart skip a beat. “God, did I hope.”

“It took me far too long to realize just how much.” You lean in to place a slightly heated kiss onto his lips. Then, in a husky voice, you add, “I should have done this ages ago.”

"I don't deserve this," he groans as his hand tightens with rekindling lust around your waist, “but I could never say no to you.”

"Don't I deserve it?" He sucks in a breath beneath you. You let the tip of your nose brush against his as you lower to a whisper. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do, Liam. So please…make me feel even better."

His arms engulf you to capture your lips, just as you start to move over him again.

You continue to kiss as you ride that bulge in his jeans, the stiffness and friction sending delicious sparks up through your core while desire pools between your legs. Every roll of your hips draws needy sounds from your throat and little grunts from his as he rocks up to meet you.

His hands never stop roaming. Up your thighs, a quick squeeze of your ass, and tracing the curve of your waist. Then flattening to drag across your back, stroking along your ribs, and teasing with uncertainty over the swell of your breasts before cupping your cheeks. He leaves flames in his wake.

Yours never stop either. You want to finally run your fingers through his hair. To feel the thickness of his neck and the way the tendons in his jaw flex as he kisses you before wandering lower. And god, those fucking polos do him no favors because underneath you can feel the hard muscle of his chest and shoulders. They've softened somewhat with age, especially at his belly, but it just makes him feel solid beneath you. Steady. Like something you could hold onto.

Every new part of him you touch only makes you want him more.

All of your heavy breathing is trapped inside the taxi, making the air feel thick with humidity. With nowhere to go, condensation is starting to gather on the windows and settle across any exposed skin. It's stifling. You have to keep reminding yourself that you're in a car to stop from ripping your dress off. A part of you still thinks it's a wonderful idea.

Another part reminds you that you don't need to take it off.

You break the kiss.

"I want you, Liam,” you lean in to whisper in his ear. “Right here. Right now." 

He shudders with a groan. Then he gently guides you back by the shoulder so he can look into your face. “Right here? You're sure?”

You nod. “It's dark and I've waited long enough. I want you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and his cock throbs beneath you. “I told you I could never say no to you.”

You gather the hem of your dress, pulling it back and out of the way so both of you can see the way you're pressed against his straining erection. Your need for him is liquid. It's been pouring from you. By now it's completely drenched your underwear, soaking them through. Only it didn't stop there because there's also a rather large damp spot on his jeans from all of your grinding. He groans helplessly again at the sight of it.

“See?” You purr down to him.

“Christ, love,” he chokes out. “Look at you.”

He grasps your bare thighs, kneading at your flesh before sliding them higher and making you shiver—until those large hands are framing your barely covered sex. He takes a second to admire you further through half-lidded eyes. Then he hooks a thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. When your arousal is exposed, a moan gets strangled in his throat, and his clothed hips buck towards you, desperate to bury himself in you already.

Your hands shoot to the fly of his jeans to fight with the button, eager to uncover him as well…just as a thumb brushes over your slit. Instead, your whole body jerks at the contact and you nearly collapse against him. Your grip goes slack.

His expression turns smug at your reaction. So he does it again—harder this time—and the tip of his thumb slips easily past your folds, making you cry out. Then he teases circles at your entrance, smearing through your slick, and you nearly sob into his shirt.

“You feel so good already.” He sounds distracted now, as though he's more focused on what he's doing than how you’re responding. He presses again, sinking until he's knuckle deep, and his lips part with a gasp, enthralled by the way his thumb vanishes inside of you. And, god, even the thickness of that leaves you breathless and writhing. Then he teases you some more at this depth, testing how your walls flutter greedily around him, before slowly drawing back out and dragging some of your fluids over your clit. Your hips pitch forward into his hand with a moan. “Can't wait to get my cock in you.”

“Please,” you beg. All of his teasing and petting has left you helpless, and your trembling fingers move uselessly over his fly, “I can't…”

That seems to get his attention.

He removes his hand and you whimper at the loss…until he takes over for you, making fast, if a bit fumbled, work of his button and zip. Then you're eager to have something even better buried inside of you. So you quickly make room for him as he lifts up and pushes his pants and underwear down to his knees.

When he settles, you finally get to have a look at what you’ve only felt up to this point, and the sight of him makes you feel weak. Because he’s sitting beneath you in his polo, and his hard cock is resting over the fabric still covering his belly.

He’s thick and uncut and twitching under your gaze, and you just know wrapping your hand around him would make you feel small by comparison. Your fingers itch to find out. You can also see a trail of hair disappearing under the hem of his shirt.

You're fighting with the urge to rip the offending piece of clothing up over his head to see just how far up it goes and whether or not it connects with that greying tuft of curls peeking out of the top when he wraps a hand around himself.

Your mind blanks.

You watch, dumbfound, as he begins stroking—working his length until the foreskin slides back to reveal the head, flushed and swollen and leaking in want of you. 

The sudden stab of arousal in your core is dagger sharp, leaving you breathless.

“Fuck,” you rasp out, and it sounds as shaky as you feel, “I need you.”

His hand grasps at the base of his erection, keeping the foreskin drawn back and holding himself steady in invitation. When he meets your eyes, you see months of longing and need on his face. How he’s ached for this—would beg to have it if you asked.

You don't hesitate. You make sure your panties stay pulled to the side as you raise yourself to your knees. You wish you had taken them off, but you're far too impatient to stop now. How could you when he's right there, throbbing in his own fist and practically begging you to take him?

With one hand bunched in the fabric of your dress and one braced on his shoulder, you shift into position over him. His tip nudges against you, effortlessly gliding through your folds until he catches at your entrance. Exactly where you need him.

You lower onto him. There's a brief moment of resistance and adjustment at the unfamiliar angle. Then the head of his cock breeches your opening as you both let out twin gasps.

Slowly, you sink onto his length, your walls stretching around him as he fills you, inch by agonizing inch.

He makes it past the halfway point before his patience runs out. He grabs your hips, fingers and thumbs spearing into flesh, and pulls you the rest of the way down onto his cock.

The sound that leaves your mouth is almost as filthy as the one that leaves his.

He keeps you there, unmoving and fully sheathed while he twitches inside of you, and a sob of relief escapes his throat. His eyes are heavy lidded, those full lips are pouting and parted, and his brows are scrunched together in an expression akin to agony.

You're certain you’ll never forget the sight of him in that moment, undone by your cunt.

You drop the skirt of your dress so you can brace against his chest. The fabric falls back into place, hiding the evidence of where you're joined. It’s not unlike when you were just sitting in his lap, grinding over your clothes. Only this time you’re straddling his bare hips and stretched full of him.

You start to move.

The rain has stopped, but outside the drops still linger, glistening and clinging to every surface. Inside, the condensation is now fully coating the glass from your hot breath coming out in sharp pants as you ride his cock. It leaves the world beyond the cab opaque, only leaking through in the trails left by heavy beads of moisture.

He braces himself by planting his feet on the floor of the cab and leaning back against the headrest, using the pressure as extra leverage. Then he's lifting to meet your hips.

"I’ve dreamed of this," he moans as he ruts into you. He doesn't stop staring up into your face—taking in every expression and quiver and noise you make with those intense, blue eyes. His mouth falls open for a moment before he gasps out, “God, your cunt is so sweet.”

You’ve never felt so seen. Wanted. In that moment, you're so utterly sucked in by the gravity of him that you crash your lips against his, desperate to be closer.

His hands bite into your hips as he forces you to keep rocking onto him. You distantly realize the car is rocking with you—that anyone could see and know what's happening—but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when you have him whimpering and groaning into your mouth with his cock inside of you.

Everything about this is fast and messy, but the buildup alone has left both of you nearly frantic with need. You're not even sure how long you’ve been doing this. It's been hours since he kissed you. It's been minutes since he kissed you.

Your overworked thighs are burning, but you refuse to stop. Pressure is building and intensifying quickly inside your core, driving you on and beckoning you to keep moving until you find your release.

His grasp has gotten so tight that his fingers are nearly digging into bone, and he's no longer holding back every whimper or stutter that works its way to his throat. You know he's close, too.

A hand finds your thigh and disappears under the fabric of your dress. He clasps the bend of your hip, and then that thumb that drove you nearly mad earlier is rubbing circles over your clit. You're gutted by the sudden pleasure.

“Want you to come for me, love,” he murmurs up to you as he moves faster between your legs, his hips and thumb working together to destroy you. “Never wanted anything more.”

“Don't stop!” You gasp. You're trembling now. Your thighs are quivering against his hips and the movement has become hard to control, leaving your pace jerky and uneven as you rock over him. “Please!”

“Could never say no to you.” His voice is hoarse and strained as he struggles to hold himself back until you come undone first.

“Liam!” Your hands clutch at his shirt.

“That’s it. Let me see you.”

That last bit of friction is all you need to send warmth exploding through you, and then you’re coming on his cock. You throw your head back with a wail. It scrapes against the roof of the taxi, but you barely notice. Every part of you is consumed with that numbing relief. The way your stretched walls convulse around him. The sound that spills out of him.

If he wasn't holding you up and forcing you to keep moving out of desperation, you’d dissolve in his hands.

Every muscle in his body is taut, strained as he keeps driving into your still pulsing heat. There's ruin on his face when his hips begin to stutter beneath you. Then he slams you onto his cock with a moan and finally comes inside of you.

The throbbing warmth of it fills you with more than a physical gratification. Your heart skips a beat at the way he lethargically works through his orgasm, rocking deep within you. At how his face is now slackened with pleasure, that contentment only broken by the occasional hiss and a shudder from aftershocks—when the sensation of you becomes too much.

You could get addicted to this feeling.

Once both of you are spent and still, you sit there in his lap, gasping for air. His stomach rises and falls against yours while his thumb draws a mindless pattern near the bend in your hip. His touch is warm, even against the ambient heat of the taxi.

Sweat pools along your hairline and back and runs between your breasts. Your body is covered in it, and his skin is similarly glistening. As you’re watching, a drop rolls past the hollow of his throat before disappearing into that tantalizing mess of chest hair left uncovered by his undone top buttons. You wonder what it would be like to nuzzle into it and inhale the masculine scent of sweat and sex before dragging your tongue along his sternum to taste it.

“You okay?” He pants up at you, pulling you out of your daze.

You huff out a laugh as you nod. “Pretty fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, still breathless.

“Yeah.”

You want to lay against him, snuggle your head under his chin, and stay like that for hours, relishing in this newfound connection. But now that the high is wearing off, you’re very aware you’ve just had sex in the driver's seat of a car. You didn't even move to the backseat or drive to a secluded parking lot! It's a position that’s not only quite public despite the opaque windows, but would require you to contort your body into an uncomfortable shape to do so. Which, regrettably, isn't very ideal for cuddling.

You hadn't been thinking that far ahead at the time.

You give him one last lingering kiss, reluctant to part from him, even as you know you have to at some point anyway. Then you lift yourself off of his lap while swallowing a whimper at both the loss and the surge of wetness between your legs now getting half caught in your askew underwear.

Climbing back into the passenger seat is a slow process because your legs are weak and wobbly, but he gives you a steady hand to lean into. One that engulfs your smaller hand as it wraps around you. You try not to imagine him holding you like this, fingers laced and palms kissing, or else you might not let go.

You both stop to laugh when you bump your head on the roof of the cab.

As you get settled and somewhat put back together, an awkward silence encompasses the taxi. It's not tense like when you got into the front seat. Rather, it's unsure in a different way. It's as if both of you want to say something, but you can't find the right words. Or maybe, without the haze of arousal, they don't come as easily despite the way they build and sit in the back of your throat.

Instead, you take a moment to survey the damage from your earlier fumbling. Thankfully, the takeout spill was minor with only a few of the noodles escaping the carton. He quickly picks them up, and you toss the containers back into the bag.

He rolls down the windows, letting the rain cooled air in to clear the fogged glass and the heavy musk of sex. It feels heavenly on your skin. You lean back in your seat, basking in the light breeze, the weightlessness in your chest, the burning in your thighs, and, most of all, the ache and damp between your legs.

You both still maintain that quiet the rest of the drive with only the low din of the radio in the background. None of the songs register, though, because your mind is too busy racing with thoughts of what happens next.

There's an unbidden hope blooming inside of you that this was more than just sex. You try to rein it in before it takes over and suffocates you with expectation because some part of you is still terrified you’ll end up heartbroken. But every time you glance over at him—take in the profile of his nose and lips, the strong curve of his jaw, the wisp of his eyelashes—you know it's far too late for that.

Instead, you sit there with your heart pounding, wishing you could read his mind and admiring the way the light dances across his face whenever you pass under a streetlight. You can tell when he catches you because he turns to give you a lopsided smile. One he used to shoot back at you in the reflection of his rearview mirror, and the full force of it makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter before it's too much and you have to look away.

Each time that hope digs in a little more.

Eventually, he pulls the cab along the curb in front of your building. It's the same spot he’s parked in dozens of times, but it looks almost foreign now from the front seat. Or maybe it just feels that way because everything about this situation is so new.

He shuts off the engine, leaving the space in silence as he glances over at you.

This is where you usually part ways. Where you thank him for the ride and pay. Then you climb out, tell him you hope he has a lovely evening, and you leave.

None of that feels right, though. Not after what’s happened between you. More than that, you don't want to walk away as though nothing's changed. Because for you everything has.

So what do you do now? Do you thank him for the wonderful sex? Ask him to dinner? Do you kiss him goodnight and tell him you'll call him later? It's what you would do with anyone else, but with him it's not enough.

Now that you have him, you don't want to let go.

"Would you…" You trail off, suddenly timid. Even though your underwear and thighs are still smeared with this man's come, you know there's so much left unspoken between you. Things you want to give voice to so that the two of you can continue to move forward towards something more intimate and meaningful than car sex. However, doing so is another opportunity to get hurt if he doesn't feel the same way.

Except now you’ve opened your mouth and he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. But more importantly: on his face you see that same look of hope reflected back at you.

He wants this, too.

Your anxiety evaporates.

"Would you like to come in?”

His smile is both relieved and tender. He nods.

That's how you end up in your bed with Liam on top of you, entrenched between your legs, cock buried inside of you, and taking you again.

It's different this time. Slower. While the fever and desperation are gone, there's a heavier need churning in their wake. Something between you that was left unsatisfied before.

Now you're wrapped up in each other—a calf tucked behind his knee, and your thigh gripping his hip where he's bent over you. One of his hands is stroking along your hair, and the other is squeezing your waist, holding you in place as his fingers dig divots into your flesh. Your own palms cradle his jaw, cupping him like water to your parched lips.

Through it all, his forehead is pressed to yours, and he gazes down into your eyes from beneath hungry lids. Even if you wanted to, you can't look away from that blue. You're held there, pinned to the bed from the weight of it because even the physical weight of him is nothing compared to the longing you see in those depths.

In the taxi, your closeness was a given. It was overwhelming in the small space, thick like the humidity of your breath, hanging in the air and pressing back in on you. Now it's suffocating in a different way. In the openness of your bedroom, it clings to you. Needy. Touch starved. Terrified that one of you will vanish at the slightest give.

The two of you are so close, you can feel his heavy breath on your face. You can hear the voiceless sounds he makes whenever he buries himself inside of you at just the right angle, each one right there and so loud in the silence.

It's different in that way, too: Neither of you has said a word since you took his hand and stumbled to your bedroom. No pleas or praise. Not when you tore each other's clothes off and finally saw what was waiting for you underneath—the hard panes and curves of him, tan lines and hair, a freckle on his chest, the way his cock hangs thick between his thighs and twitches in your hand. Not even when his fingers dragged over your still wet folds with a groan. Instead, your voices are replaced with sighs and moans and each slick press into your heat.

You don't think you could speak anyway.

He’s fucking you completely breathless. Not from the effort. Not from the way his core flexes and his back rounds every time he thrusts into you. Each steady plunge, a slide and drag of bodies—his chest hair across your nipples, his stomach against yours, his groin grinding into your clit in a maddening friction. No, it's the unmasked passion of it that leaves your heart pounding and your breath caught in your throat.

He fucks you like he watches you: with a sense of reverence. Like he can't believe he has the privilege.

Maybe fuck isn't the right word, then. Because the way his hand moves to cradle the back of your head, thumb grazing behind your ear, feels more like an act of worship than your desperate coupling in the driver's seat of his cab, takeout spilled across the center console.

You've never had sex like this before. Not even with the few people you've whispered I love yous to. The word for it hovers, nameless and heady in the inch of space between you. He breathes it out over your skin, and then you catch it and inhale it into your lungs. As it passes your lips, you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

You're so close to figuring it out when he angles your head to the side, baring your neck to him and nuzzling his face into the exposed flesh, and your thoughts evaporate. He takes a moment to nose over your pulse, inhaling your scent and warmth with a moan. Then, finally, he’s placing hungry, open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. It feels so much like he's trying to devour you, that you brace for a sinking of teeth which never comes.

Instead, the scratch of his beard sends a shiver through you, leaving you quivering and covered in goosebumps beneath him. It's too much—sensation, tension, emotion.

It's not enough.

You roll your hips to meet his rhythm, and he lets out a ragged groan—pain and pleasure spilling from his chest. His next plunge is deeper. Harder. Something sparks inside of you.

“Liam,” you gasp, breaking the silence.

Then he’s kissing you, his tongue chasing the sound of his own name into the wet heat of your mouth. So you offer it to him again, a plea for more.

He relents.

He grabs one of your legs and bends it towards your chest, folding you and opening you further to him. This new angle completely traps your clit in the friction of his thrusts.

You grasp at anything you can reach to ground yourself against the onslaught. One of your hands fists your sheet, bunching the fabric in a tight knuckled grip. The other curls through the trimmed hair at the base of his skull. But there isn't enough there to hold onto, and your fingers claw uselessly at his scalp.

The effect it has on him is immediate.

Your nails drag a moan and a full bodied shudder from him. Suddenly his pace becomes urgent, each thrust now punctuated by the joining of skin on skin and a slight shifting along the mattress.

You can feel how close he is from the way he’s tensing against the pleasure building inside of him. From the way he whimpers and clutches back at you, trying to hold on as well. To keep this going just a little longer.

Knowing that his loss of control, that sense of desperation, is because of you, sends you reeling. It isn't long before your legs are quaking against him and your chest is stuttering from your shallow gasps. Every rock of his hips coaxes you further from your control. You can feel your grasp of it slipping, pulling you off balance as you sink deeper into him.

You arch off the mattress—bending as if drawn to him—while every muscle in your body is locked in that moment between tension and release. Then one more moan from him as he rubs against your clit, and you finally break.

Your orgasm shatters white hot at your core, splintering up to churn in your gut and burn through your chest, before resonating outward along every one of your nerve endings, only to recede and start all over again.

As you come, the only thought in your lust fogged brain is him on top of you. Inside of you. The grip he has on your waist. So when your mouth falls open to suck air into your strangled lungs, on the exhale his name spills from your lips.

He looks wrecked by the sound. He buries himself into your fluttering cunt, needing to feel how your walls tighten and clench around him. You protest the sudden loss of friction before your body instinctively seeks it out. You mindlessly grind your hips up against him, riding out the last of your orgasm on his cock until he can't take it anymore.

He grabs you and fucks you, just as mindlessly grunting and rutting into you as he chases his own release. He stares down between you to where his body is joined with yours, watching the way his cock disappears into your folds, his expression stern with concentration. Under the light of the street lamp leaking through your window, sweat glistens on his forehead.

A deep rumble starts in his chest, something half caught between a growl and a whine. His pace quickly becomes erratic, and every time his hips meet yours, you can feel the way he's trembling. You know he's moments from letting go.

You bring your fingers to his chin and force his attention up until his eyes find yours. And god they're so blue, even unfocused in the dim streetlight. Though you're still dazed, you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“Look at me, Liam,” you breathe out. “I want to see you.”

That's all it takes. His face crumples in agony, and he comes with a sob of relief. He manages a few final thrusts, shuddering and panting his way through each one, until he's finally spent. All the while, his cock twitches and throbs as he fills you for a second time.

You’ve done this once already tonight, but it was different then. The distance was still there while you untangled yourself from his lap, climbed back into the passenger seat, and adjusted your dress. In the way he quietly righted the container of noodles as you struggled to find the words to fill the silence.

This time you don't part.

Instead, he settles in close, pulls you to him, and lays his head on your shoulder with a sigh. In return, you kiss his hair, taking a moment to savor the scent of him—sweat and shampoo and lingering cigarette smoke—and the softness of the thick waves over your lips, before resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

There's nothing between you now. No car seat, no clothes, no more distance.

This is what was missing before in the taxi. This is what you both wanted—what you should have had instead—because this is so easy. As easy as laughter or smiles shared in his rearview mirror. 

And it all feels so right. Even though you’ve made yourself vulnerable in his arms, the way he holds you and caresses your palm with his fingertips keeps any further uncertainty or doubt about what this is between you at bay. You know what this is. 

You’ve spent months falling for this man, bit by bit. Every time you called him for a ride. Every glance, every simple gesture, every time he made you laugh or lean forward in your seat to find some way to be closer to him. It all sucked you in a little more each time, pulled you into depths you couldn't fathom—more than a crush or attraction or something as simple as affection—and it took you far too long to notice. Now your eyes and your chest burn with the realization.

As if he can sense what you're thinking, he pulls back to place a trail of feather light kisses along the side of your face. You close your eyes, letting the tenderness of it wash over you.

“Stay.” The wave of emotion chokes your voice to a whisper. It's a plea. A hope.

“There's nowhere I'd rather be, love,” he whispers back against your temple. Then he hugs you tight, and there's nowhere you’d rather be either than there in his arms, lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat and his even breaths across your skin.

It's when he thinks you're asleep that Liam untangles himself, and then sneaks out of your bed and steps into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind him.

At first you think he's gone to use the bathroom and doesn't want to wake you. Which is sweet! In fact, you're smiling over just how sweet and considerate he is—how content and blissful he’s made you feel—when you hear his voice from down the hall.

It sounds as if he's having a hushed conversation with someone, but that's impossible. There's no one else here. Is he talking to himself then?

You’ve never heard his voice sound like this before, either. He’s frustrated. Annoyed, almost. Nothing like the man that smiles at you from the front seat and asks about your day.

You nearly sit up and call out to him in confusion when—Oh. Wait. No. He’s on the phone, you realize.

At nearly half one in the morning.

He's being quiet enough that, if you were asleep, you probably would have slept through it. On top of that, his words are muffled by the door. So, even though you strain to listen, you don't catch everything he says.

You still hear plenty.

He makes up a story about driving someone…somewhere outside of the city. A request he couldn't say no to, apparently, but you miss his explanation as to why. It's not a big deal, he insists. It's not.

At the end of the call, he says he'll be home in the morning. That you catch.

Then silence falls over you once again.

None of that is true. Obviously. He’s standing naked in your hall, and he’s going to spend the night in your bed, decidedly not driving anywhere.

Which means he was lying on the phone.

You quickly piece together that means he lied to you, too. And the only reason he would have to lie at all, to keep you a secret, is if he isn't actually single. Which also means—

He made you the other woman.

Suddenly, the way he struggled with all of this makes perfect, horrible sense. It was never about you. He always wanted you. It was about his decision to say yes, to give in to what he wanted, despite the consequences and what it would mean.

You're still letting that sink in when he slips back into the room, and you have no idea what to do about it. You need a minute to fucking think. So you try to appear exactly as he left you: undisturbed, curled on your side, and facing the wall. Asleep.

On the inside, however, your heart is breaking.

It happens slowly. At first you're so numb from the shock, and the ache in your chest is so sharp, that the pain takes a moment to register. Like slicing your palm open with a knife and waiting for the wound to bleed. When it finally does, the agony leaves you breathless. You can feel it twisting in your gut, searing through your fingers, and clawing its way up your throat until you're choking on it. Your eyes sting from the pain.

Through it all, you focus on keeping your breathing deep and even to calm your frantic nerves and the trembling of your bottom lip. 

He crawls quietly back into bed behind you, clearly believing you're still asleep and trying not to wake you. You try not to stiffen in response.

You're not even sure why you're faking anymore. Perhaps you're still working to get over the shock from the hurt and betrayal. Maybe you want to believe you misunderstood the conversation, even though you know you didn't. Or maybe you’re still trying to figure out what to even say to him.

He lied to you.

Worse, you thought you found something real and lasting with a man that made you smile and feel special—one you felt a connection to. In retrospect, you should have known it was too good to be true, but you wanted it to be. You wanted that so badly. Wanted him.

You feel like such an idiot.

What was this, then? Did he just use you for sex? Were all of those glances and smiles over the course of months faked just for this? How could he have faked even a moment of what you just experienced? The way he looked into your eyes as he… God, even remembering it causes your heart to flutter and heat to pool in your stomach, despite your emotional anguish. You swallow down a sob.

Instead of tucking back into bed, though, he sits there and watches you sleep. You can feel his heavy gaze on the side of your face and the way it lingers before trailing down the outline of your body under the blanket, oblivious to your inner grief or how you lay there bleeding. It lasts several long minutes—longer than you would have thought was possible to watch someone sleep. But it's as if he’s content at the sight of you.

Just when you're finally ready to open your eyes and confront him, to demand the truth, his hand reaches out to stroke over your temple and your cheek. His touch is delicate. He’s still being careful not to wake you as his fingertips ghost across your skin. Then he sighs and it sounds like your name. You didn't think a single breath could carry so much awe and longing.

You didn't think your name could ever sound like that.

He continues to explore and caress you further, gently mapping out the curve of your jaw and the shell of your ear…all while he thinks you're still sleeping. When you couldn't possibly know what he's doing and there's no need for a performance.

Which means he's doing it because he wants to touch you like this.

And every second of it is far more gentle than his voice was the entire time he was on the phone. The voice he didn't say “I love you” in before he hung up, you realize. You're not sure what it means, but it feels important to note.

Because maybe…maybe he wasn't faking anything. Not about how he feels, at least. Not about you.

As your thoughts race, you realize he never actually said he was single either, just that he couldn't get a date to the play or would have to go alone. Sure, the implication was there, and it was a fair assumption to make, but he never said the words out loud. You also wonder what else that means for the state of his relationship, and whether or not it makes any difference. Assuming he was telling the truth at all. Though something about the way he said it makes you believe that part, at least, wasn't a lie.

What are you doing? You know your mental gymnastics and excuses are pathetic. You should have some self respect! Hell, you should kick him out of your apartment and your life for what he's done! But…you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Despite everything, you're still caught in the gravity of him.

Finally, he lays down in the bed and wraps an arm around you, curling himself against your back. His hand splays across your belly, keeping you held to him as he scoots in closer. He's warm and solid, and you can't help but melt into him, skin on skin, as he snuggles into your neck. You love the way his nose instinctively finds all of the sensitive spots that make you gasp, as if he's done this before. As if he knows you.

You fit together perfectly.

You want to stay there, surrounded by him—to let him alleviate the pain he’s caused you and fall asleep for real. Instead, you roll over in his arms.

Your eyes are open now so you can look at him. After all of this, you need to see him in this new light and face the truth of him. You have to know if you can.

When your eyes meet his, there's an expression of yearning and hope on his face that's so profound, your heart aches again, but for a much different reason.

He’s looking at you as though he's a damned man and you're his salvation.

“Sorry if I woke you, love,” he whispers. He cups your jaw in his hand, and his thumb soothes over your cheek in apology.

It's not the apology you need. Not yet. You’ll get that in the morning. Then, afterwards, you’ll have the talk about where you go from here and how he's going to fix this.

Because, as he leans forward to kiss your forehead, his contented sigh warm on your skin, you realize you’ve already made a decision.

“It's okay, Liam,” you reply in a whisper. “I don't care, just as long as you come back to me.”

A/N: I left the play vague for Reader Insert/Choose Your Own Adventure purposes, but the one I had in mind for ME, because it's my absolute favorite, is The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (it was actually, in a strange way, also one of my inspirations while writing this). Which is about a man that leads a double life and pretends to be someone he isn't, only to discover at the end of the play that he essentially IS the man he's been pretending to be and has been all along without knowing. There are parts of Liam that are real and earnest, he just doesn't believe they're enough. He despises his life and the man he's become so much, is so desperate to escape them, that he can't imagine anyone else not feeling the same way about the real him. Except, in this story with this slightly different version of Liam (who's been removed from the events of the episode), that connection IS real. He never needed to lie to get Reader to laugh and fall for him or see a glimmer of the real him. But Liam is a sad, wet, desperate little shit of a man and does anyway. (He’s lucky he's hot.) Fingers crossed that he, too, learns the vital importance of being earnest. Also Earnest's eyes are blue. 😌