#ever since I found out what it was I haven’t been the same since/silly

[nadvs]

home before dark (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You and Rafe haven’t said anything to each other since your kiss. After a moment of tense silence, he collected himself and you headed back to the party. He found his friends. You found yours.

It’s been over an hour, the sun now nestled below the horizon, and you keep catching his eye in the dark, crowded backyard. You remind yourself that his gaze is so persistently on you due to your arrangement. He’s looking out for you. That’s all.

But he didn’t have to kiss you. He could have opted for something less… intense. Because now your mind won’t stop repeating it and everything that lead up to it. Stoic, unattached, cold Rafe cried. Actually cried. And then he kissed you so gently that your head still feels like it’s spinning.

You look at him again from across the yard. He’s surrounded by the same guys he always hangs out with, but for once, you can see just how lonely he actually looks.

It hurts to think about how he considers you to be the only person who cares about him - you, a reminder of the worst thing that happened to him.

What about his friends? Or his family? Do they all neglect him, unwilling to see past his hard exterior?

When Rafe trails your car to your house after the party, it’s a few minutes past midnight and his body is already feeling the itch for more coke. It’s the best way to numb everything. But he can’t afford to. Not when he’s taking care of you. Not when you looked at him the way you did when you said he could quit.

You glance up every so often to see Rafe in the frame of your rearview mirror, his bike rumbling behind you, his headlight bright.

You reach your home, relieved to see that the mailbox is closed, and pull into the driveway.

After you both come through the front door, you arm the security system, then turn to face him.

“Do you want to take the guest bed?” you ask, having rehearsed it in the car. “Or just sleep in my room again?”

Rafe doesn’t make much eye contact with you. He’s still embarrassed.

“A distraction would be good,” he admits. He can’t fall asleep alone, sober, with nothing but his own mind replaying the humiliation of crying in front of you.

“So, boring you to sleep was a smart idea?” you ask with a small smile. Knowing you’re helping him, even in this silly little way, is gratifying considering how much he’s helping you.

Rafe huffs amusedly, tilting his head. You make your way up the stairs and he follows, chewing on his lip before he can say his next words. The guilt is killing him. Especially when you have nothing but patience and compassion for him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to…” He stops in the hallway, wanting to get this out before he gets ready for bed. “This morning… I shouldn’t have left like that.”

Rafe’s lids are low and he shuffles in place, like this is the first apology he’s ever given someone and he’s not sure if he’s doing it right.

The way he left your home was abrupt. His tone was harsh. But it was because you did the only thing you’re not supposed to do. You brought up the past. And you can’t blame him.

You decide to try to dismiss the tension between you.

“Couples fight,” you joke. “It’s okay.”

Rafe nods, his gaze still on the floor. You realize right behind him, up on the wall, hangs the photo of you and him and your mothers. His smile used to be so bright.

He steps towards the guest room and when he closes the door behind him, you take the photo off the wall and shove the frame in your dresser. You’ll do anything you can to protect him from any and every reminder.

When Rafe enters your dark bedroom, you nervously take a breath before you speak.

“You can just sleep up here again if you want,” you say. “The floor’s probably not that comfortable.”

“Sure,” he says, hoping he sounds indifferent even though he’s the farthest thing from it.

Kissing you was a thrill and just the thought of sleeping next to you makes his entire body feel like it’s on fire. Being close to you is like its own drug and he can’t get enough.

You smell minty toothpaste as Rafe settles next to you in bed. You stay on your side, faced away from him, as he lies on his back, resting a hand on his stomach.

“I’m trying to think of a boring story,” you say. You shake your head to yourself. “This is weird.”

“Weird?” he echoes, on edge that you’re regretting inviting him to sleep next to you.

“Yeah,” you admit. “My ex used to tell me that I talk too much. I’m still getting used to the idea that someone actually wants to hear me ramble.“

“He said that to you?” Rafe turns his head, looking at your silhouette in the dark.

You stare ahead, eyelids fluttering. It’s a hard subject, but you almost feel like you owe it to him. He was so vulnerable earlier tonight. You want to balance the scales.

“All the time,” you recall. The thought of that idiot berating you ignites rage in his core.

“It was like a power play or something,” you continue. “I think he liked to say things just to hurt me, then get me to forgive him. I… gave him too many chances. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to get me back.”

“You didn’t bring this on yourself,” Rafe says before even a second can pass.

You breathe out slowly. You know he’s right.

“Yeah,” you say. “I guess it’s easier to feel like I’m responsible in some way because then I’m not just a victim.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, a gap slowly opening.

“You didn’t do anything to deserve that.” The gap closes and your heart skips a beat. Rafe isn’t the type to say something just to say it. You know he really thinks that.

“Thank you.” You pick at a string on your duvet cover. Expecting him to open up is a losing game, but it’s one you can’t stop playing. “Have you been… in a relationship?”

You’ve never seen Rafe with a girl for longer than the duration of a party. But maybe he kept his commitments under wraps. He’s an expert at hiding from the world.

“No,” he says with a cynical chuckle. He’s hooked up loads of times. But a relationship? Not even close.

“Why not?” you ask. Despite his scary reputation, Rafe’s undeniably attractive. And some girls like the scary thing. Maybe you would if you didn’t know there was nothing to be scared of.

“Just haven’t,” Rafe answers. You stifle a sigh. It was a matter of time before he closed up again.

“So, um, I can talk about my day?” you offer. “You fell asleep to that last night. I’ll try not to be offended again.”

Rafe smirks at your joke and taps his fingers against his stomach. You never push him to talk. He appreciates it.

Brushing you off is a reflex. He doesn’t want it to be. You clearly spent more than enough time dealing with a jerk and he doesn’t need to be one to you, too. So, he decides to answer your question. Honestly, this time.

“I think it’s because I… just…” he begins, trying not to stammer, “I can’t stop how fast my thoughts are sometimes. I can’t control how mad I get. There’s no point in getting serious with a girl because the second she hears what my head sounds like, she’ll bail.”

The more you learn about who Rafe is today, the more it hurts. Does he think there’s nothing worth loving in him? That everyone will abandon him?

“The right girl won’t,” you say into the dark. “She’ll want to hear it all.” You hear Rafe chuckle in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically. His mind is a place of high highs and lower lows. He can hardly survive it himself. He couldn’t expect someone else to.

“It’s true.” You’d be that girl if he’d let you. But your very existence plagues him. You’ll never be that girl for him and he’ll never want you to be.

“I know people call me a psycho. They’re not far off,” he admits.

“You’re not that.” You don’t even want to say the word. “If you were, you would’ve laughed in my face when I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. But you didn’t. You’re here.”

You feel Rafe shift his weight. His back is to yours now.

“So, your day?” he says.

He’s done talking. And even though you’d like him to share his thoughts with you until sunrise, you’re relieved you actually got somewhere with him. Bit by bit, he’s baring his soul to you, and it’s just as gentle as you remember.

You tell Rafe about your time at the mall today, once again going into meaningless details just to make the story drag.

His heart is hammering in his ears as he lies in your bed, eyes shut, listening to you speak. He’s never admitted to anyone why he’s never wanted a girlfriend. Not even to his closest friends. If they ever asked, he’d say he wasn’t into commitment.

He can’t believe now that he said it out loud, it was to the one person he thought he’d spend the rest of his life avoiding.

Again, Rafe isn’t in bed when you wake up. You find him downstairs, waiting for you just like yesterday.

Before you lock the door behind him, he offers you a simple bye. It’s a reminder that even though he cried in front of you and kissed you and revealed why he won’t let anyone in, you’re still being kept at a distance.

It’ll be a hot day, so you make plans with friends to have lunch at the country club and spend the afternoon by the outdoor pool.

When you get to the pool deck and recline in a lounger, you notice a lot of other Kooks had the same idea today. Scattered along the poolside are groups of a lot of the people you see at parties, drinking and soaking in the scorching sun.

You’re instinctually looking for Rafe. When you spot him on the other side of the pool, sitting in a chair identical to yours, you immediately feel at ease.

It’s probably not a good idea to let your eyes linger on his toned, bare chest. But you do.

You wonder what these days will look like when all this is over and Ty stops pursuing you. Will you go back to seeing Rafe at rowdy parties and spontaneous events like these, hoping he’s okay, wishing you could talk to him but knowing he’ll treat you like a stranger?

You look away. Dwelling on this will only make you sad.

Later in the afternoon, you’re leaning back in your chair under the sun, beads of pool water sprinkled over your skin. You’ve been swimming with your friends most of the day, calm because Rafe is so close by.

Your eyes are closed as you relax in the sun. But then you hear his laugh. Ty’s laugh.

You stiffen immediately, sitting up straight, eyes darting around to match the nauseating sound to the face. Your heart is racing, playing back everything that’s happened in the past few days.

The creepy letter. The footsteps in front of your door. The way he mocked you on the beach, asking what you’ll do when Rafe’s not around to protect you.

“You okay?” your friend asks.

“Did you see...” you begin. You can’t waste another second. You don’t even grab your towel when you stand up.

You walk along the crowded pool, heading straight for Rafe.

When he sees you rushing over, your head frantically whirling to look behind you with every couple of steps you take, his body is injected with a blazing urgency.

Rafe swiftly rises from his seat, leaving his friends to watch him in confusion for leaving the conversation so suddenly.

He helps seal the distance between you and once you’re close enough, he takes your hand and leads you to the edge of the pool deck by an uninhabited rental booth.

You round the wall, earning privacy. Your bodies meet and you yield to him just like you did to your instincts, pressing your cheek against his chest and circling your arms around his torso.

Rafe hugs you back. Tightly. His skin is warm, not a drop of water on him, a sharp contrast to the clamminess clinging onto your skin and bathing suit.

“What happened?” he murmurs. He notices how fast your shoulders are skittering. You’re shaking against him.

“I thought I heard him,” you say. Now, thankfully, all you can hear are the thumps of Rafe’s heart over the roar of swarms of people swimming and sunbathing. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Rafe knows the feeling. He envelops you tighter. He hasn’t used his body to hold somebody like this… ever. He’s used to using it to inflict harm. To hurt. So why does this feel so natural?

“Do you want me to see if he’s here or do you want me to stay?” he asks.

“Stay,” you reply. You always wanted him to stay. His big arms remain wrapped around you, chipping away at the fear you rushed over here with.

Your bodies are curved into each other, his warmth radiating off of him. Rafe hasn’t left the poolside all day. He couldn’t risk a distraction. He needed to be there in case something happened to you. And something did.

And feeling you settle in his arms, the way your trembles start to disappear and your breath grows deeper, is worth it. He’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything.

Eventually, once your stress has become much more bearable, you pull back. Rafe’s hard blue eyes sweep over your face.

“I won’t let him near you, alright?” he says. His hands drag up to your face, palms pressed at your cheeks. You nod with wide, doleful eyes.

You exist in this moment together, like you did in your bed after your nightmare, like you did when you were alone on the beach last night, touching even though there’s nobody around to fool.

Then, Rafe pulls his hands off of you and once again, tension wedges its way between you. He steps back. So do you.

“Do you want to sit with me for a while?” he says gruffly, his stare on the ground now.

“Just you?” you ask. The hope in your voice floods him with sadness. Does the thought of being with his friends upset you that much?

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Yeah,” you echo.

Your bare arms are an inch from touching as you sit together on the shallow edge of the pool, your legs dangling over in the water.

“I don’t even want to look if he’s here,” you confess, looking down at your thighs pressed against the concrete next to Rafe’s.

“I will,” he says. You see him look up from the corner of your eye. After a moment, he shakes his head. “He’s not.”

“Okay,” you breathe. It’s odd that Ty hasn’t been around. Maybe Rafe really did scare him off for good. “Thanks.”

You’d been in this pool as kids a few times. Not nearly as much as you were on the beach behind his house, but a few summer days, Rafe’s mom would bring you and her children here.

He was always protective of his sisters. You remember his boyish voice calling for his mom whenever Sarah started wading towards the deep end. Now, any time you see him with his sister, they’re snapping at each other.

Again, your mind spirals to who Rafe would be if he never suffered such a terrible loss. He’d probably be close to his siblings, instead of pushing everyone away.

You glance at him, taking in his blue eyes and freckled skin in the sun, and try to smile. But you can’t. A piece of your heart will always be missing because of what happened to him.

When you join your friends, the bright mood you arrived at the club with is gone.

You take a long, hot shower as soon as you’re home, deciding you’ll have a night in tonight. The day was too heavy to try to have any fun.

It’s nearly ten when you settle in front of the tv under a blanket. Just so Rafe doesn’t worry about you not showing up at your mutual friend’s party, you text him: i’m staying in tonight. don’t worry if you get here late. just call me and i’ll let you in.

He calls you within a minute.

“Hello?”

“Did something happen?” Rafe asks. He doesn’t have to be specific - he’s asking if Ty found a way to scare you again.

“No, I’m… just not in a partying mood,” you respond.

“Are you alone?”

You curl up under your blanket, hooking an arm around your legs.

“Yes.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds before he asks, “Do you want to be?”

“No,” you admit.

You remotely open the gate when Rafe arrives minutes later, watching him come up the driveway on his motorcycle through the window.

When he settles on the other end of the couch in your living room, he snorts a laugh.

“Really?” he asks once he sees what’s on the screen.

“Be nice,” you quip. “It’s my comfort film.”

“Still?”

Your heart is in your throat. He remembers. You made him watch it with you once, years ago. You both talked through most of it.

“That’s the thing about comfort films, Rafe,” you reply. “They don’t change.”

He stretches his arms along the armrest and back of the couch, taking up all the space he wants to. He grew up to be so tall and big and powerful.

“Defensive,” he responds. You roll your eyes and smile.

As the movie continues, Rafe watches you and the only word he could use to describe how you look curled up on the couch is cute. His body reacted to your kiss, to the way your curves felt when you pressed up against him in that hug, because of course it did, but it’s more than that.

You’re pretty to him in the most innocent way and it’s like he’s a boy again, confused about how he could be so nervous around someone yet still want to be with them nonstop.

This is getting harder. He’s growing attached and he knows he shouldn’t for both of your sakes. Because you can both try to pretend you don’t have a history, but you do. It follows you around. You can’t outrun it.

“I can find something else to watch if you want,” you say. He tears his eyes off of you before you catch him staring.

“It’s fine,” he says. You nod and let yourself enjoy his company, even though it’s fleeting.

You sit up suddenly when you realize you dozed off. Your eyes find Rafe, who’s smirking at you.

“How long was I out?” you ask.

“How good can a movie be if you fall asleep?” he teases. You playfully nudge his knee with your foot. “Like, ten minutes. Not long.”

“I’m more tired than I thought,” you say.

“Probably from staying up late to talk,” Rafe replies.

“The price I pay for a bodyguard,” you say with a laugh. You rub your eyes. “Are you ready for bed?”

The casual way you ask the question in your fatigue almost makes him dizzy. It makes you sound like you’re a real couple.

Rafe trails you up the stairs and before he turns to change into his pajamas in the guest room, the gap in the wall of photos is glaringly obvious. You removed the framed picture of his mother.

“You took it down,” he says without thinking. He feels the comedown hitting him. Another low his mind is racing through.

The hallway is dim and you’re staring at his back now. You twist your hands together, jittery, like you’re about to take a test and saying one wrong thing will fail you.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “You don’t like reminders, right?”

Rafe’s body feels like it weighs a million pounds. He’s stuck. Heavy.

“Is that…” He shakes his head to himself. “Is that bad?”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” he says. It’s like pulling teeth, giving a voice to the thoughts that he’s always running away from.

“Not wanting reminders isn’t bad,” you say behind him. “If that’s what you mean.”

You feel like you’ve been wrung out. You’re a reminder. You step towards him, even though he’s facing away from you. You can’t help but want to touch him again.

When Rafe feels your hand cup his, he lets out a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t be trying to forget her,” he says. Fuck. Now that he’s started talking, it’s like he can’t stop. Why can’t he stop?

Your mind swirls as if you’re in a dream. He’s actually talking about his mom. You continue to stare at his back.

“I don’t think you are,” you whisper.

“How would you know?” he mutters sharply.

It’s a defence mechanism. You can tell. He’s trying to push you away. You won’t let him.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say. “But I think what you’re really trying to forget is how bad it hurts. Am I right?”

Rafe’s chest rises and falls with rough, shallow jolts. His heart pounds. His eyes wander over the space where the photo was.

“The last time I…” He’s unable to stop his rushed words. “The last time I had a chance to tell her, I didn’t. I just… I didn’t.”

“Tell her what?”

“That I loved her.”

Your throat goes dry.

“She knew,” you say. You grip his hand tighter. “Of course she knew.”

“She said it and I - I just didn’t say it back,” he stammers. “We hit the wall so hard and she - I know now that she knew she wasn’t going to make it. That’s why she told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back.”

Your heart thrashes against your ribs and your stomach turns with agony.

“Oh, my God. Were you…” you whisper. “Rafe, were you in the car?”

His eyes squeeze shut. He can still hear his mother asking are you okay? He answered yes and she said thank God, I love you and then he saw the way she was slumped over the steering wheel from where he sat in the backseat and he couldn’t speak from fear and he stopped believing in a God the second he heard her take her last breath.

That’s when he found his voice. He started screaming for her to wake up. She never did. It birthed a burning, merciless anger deep inside him that controls him to this day.

The last thing his mother did was make sure he knew he was loved. And he didn’t say it back.

“I didn’t know,” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You heard very little about the accident. It was stormy. She hit a freeway barrier. She died before the ambulance arrived. Nobody ever went into any more detail and you didn’t want them to.

There’s a gaping hole in your chest. Rafe was there when she died. He was with her. You always wondered where he was when he learned she passed away. How he was told the horrifying news.

But nobody had to tell him. Your best friend watched his world end right in front of him, leaving him with pain he has been running from since.

He wriggles out of your grip. Speaking to you is making him live through it again. And if he keeps talking, he’ll say something he regrets.

“I’ll sleep on my own tonight,” he says, voice thin. You watch him disappear into the guest room.

You rush to your bedroom and shut the door so he doesn’t hear the heavy sobs that start to erupt out of you.

You pace around the room, aching from the inside out. Right now, you don’t picture Rafe as the man he is, protecting you, carrying a gun. You picture the boy. At the beach. In the car. At the funeral.

Like a tide reaching a shore, you gravitate towards him. If he rejects you, you can take it. But you can’t handle the thought of him needing someone and you not being there.

Rafe is sitting at the edge of the guest bed when you turn the door handle. You close the distance and sit beside him, wrapping your arms beneath his, tight around his body.

“You can tell me to go away,” you whisper against his back. “I promise I will if you want me to.”

You feel his chest filling and contracting with his harsh breaths. He hunches over, head in his hands.

“Go away,” he mutters. Just like when he was a kid. His voice is deeper now, but his words are the same.

The pain is sharp. It takes everything in you to let go of him. But you do. For what feels like the thousandth time, he denies you a place in his healing, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted from him.

The tears welling in his eyes fall when he hears the door shut behind you. He can’t do this. He can’t relive it. He can’t disappoint you. He can’t open up all the way and tell you everything because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive himself or put himself back together.

You lie in bed, your chest hurting so bad that you’re not sure it’ll ever get better. It’s like for every step you take forward with Rafe, you take two back.

He held you, kept you from a panic attack today, but you don’t possess whatever it is you need to help him. He can keep you afloat, but you can’t return the favor.

He knows you care about him. He cried about it last night. Evidently, what you offer is still not enough.

He’s just down the hall, so close but at a distance. You pull up your duvet and wish he were beside you, falling asleep to the sound of your rambling.

But no amount of wishing for anything can make it come true. If there’s anything you’ve learned from your broken friendship with Rafe, it’s that.

(part six)

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[p00pdev1l]

A/N: vi x reader and ex!sevika x reader (who's shocked) idk i have a thing for exes ig, vi hits on sevika's ex gf unknowingly, lets pretend they'd be at the same bar together for just one sec, just something silly i wrote to get the juices flowing for hopefully another fic i have in mind for vi! warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, jealous sevika (shhh she doesn't know) gif credit: @/faderiftss (i love you gif creators!)\

Vi found her gaze continuously drifting in your direction throughout the night, stormy eyes watching you with admiration as you idly sipped on your drink. If you had noticed, it would have probably looked like she was sizing you up, with her thick brows furrowed in frustration and tense shoulders. How could she go toe to toe with people bigger than herself, and yet—she felt so intimidated by the idea of approaching a beautiful stranger like you? She rolled her shoulders back, trying to gather some sense of courage. But self doubt pinned her to her seat, her mind racing with intrusive thoughts of every possible way she could fuck this up. So she held herself back, afraid of scaring you away. But—after knocking a few drinks back, maybe too many, her waning courage was soon restored. 

Striding across the tavern in a few short steps she approached the bar, casually leaning against the wooden counter beside you. This immediately caught Sevika’s attention, who was a couple tables away shuffling a deck of cards. She cocked a dark brow, the corner of her lips curling upward in amusement. 

“I haven’t seen you around before.” She commented, tilting her head toward yours. “Glad someone’s noticed.” You offered a playful smile, Vi’s attention flit to your lips in appreciation returning a smile of her own. Shit, you were even more beautiful up close. “What’s your name?” 

────

After exchanging pleasantries, and a few more drinks, the conversation became more intimate. And Sevika grew increasingly more agitated. 

────

“I usually avoid this place ever since I broke up with my ex.” you stated, Her eyes lit up. “She’s a regular.” You continued, “but it seems I’ve been missing out.” The purr of your voice nearly sent Vi to her knees, she took in a staggered breath, play it cool Vi.

“So what you’re saying is–” She scooted herself closer, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair, “I have a chance?” You let out a short breath of laughter, “You’re cute.” You weren’t sure how she didn’t feel Sevika’s glare burning holes into the back of her head. Her steel eyes observing the interaction with an expression of blatant irritation. 

“I’d say so, but my ex might say otherwise.” you gestured behind you, Vi followed your pointed stare leading her to an obviously disgruntled Sevika making her way over to the two of you. 

“You’re kidding right?” Vi deadpanned, earning another airy laugh. “Her of all people?” Your line of vision was cut off by a puff of smoke rolled between you, Sevika now towering beside you with a lit cigarello nestled between her dark lips. 

“Beat it kid.” Sevika ordered, jutting out her thumb. “You’re wasting your time.”  

“Play nice Sevika.” You warned lightheartedly, resting your head in the palm of your hand as you turned to look at her. She scoffed audibly. 

“This is me playing nice, now beat it.” Before Vi could interject, you placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll see you around Vi.” She hesitated, wanting nothing more to beat Sevika into the ground, but instead she simply nodded, agreeing to leave. “See you around.” Sevika sneered, making sure she left before turning her attention back toward you. 

“You just love pissing me off don’t you?” You could tell her question was rhetorical but that didn’t stop you from giving her a response. 

“Jealous?” You peered up at her, a wide smile at your lips. “I didn’t think you were that type—“ feeling bold, you raised your foot, letting the point of your heel skim the base of her leg flirtatiously, “—from what I remember.” You were met with another puff of smoke blown directly in your face, masking her lips that were pulled into a smug smirk.

“You know no one else can handle you but me.”

[french-goodbye]

If you want it good, downright iconic

Summary: your third date with Eddie goes even better than expected.

Warnings: kissing, masturbating. 18+, MINORS DNI.

Notes: title from Gibson Girls by Ethel Cain bc Eddie would’ve loved preacher’s daughter.

The first time Eddie asked you out, you were honestly surprised.

He now had been regularly dropping by the record store where you work, all smiles and fleeting touches, usually backed by silly teasing jokes. At the beginning you thought he might’ve liked you, but then two months went by and you thought to yourself that if he was interested, he would’ve definitely asked you out by now… right?

Turns out you were wrong and he was just bidding his time to make sure you were interest before he made a move. That happened a month ago, when he stopped by the store in his usual leather jacket and a pretty wildflower bouquet in his hands, and nervously asked if you wanted to hang out sometime.

“Like a date?” you’d asked hopefully, considering the huge crush you’d been nursing on him ever since he first walked into the store, chains hanging from his black jeans and chunky silver rings.

“If you want it to be” was all he said, fiddling with those same rings on his fingers.

Now after two official dates and many non official hang outs, he was taking you on your third one. The two of you had decided on watching the movie Halloween on the drive in by the edge of town and he had picked you up at your house earlier that night, a beaming smile on his face and a bag full of your favorite snacks on the passenger seat. Then, you couldn’t be bothered to hide your desire to squish his cheeks together and press kisses to his face until he was flushing red and pushing you away, claiming you’d be late for the movie.

After the movie, he had invited you to his trailer claiming his his uncle was on the night shift at work once more and that “he needed you to hold his hand because of how scary the movie was”. Of course you said yes, and that’s how you found yourself being led to his trailer, his hand clasped in yours swinging between your bodies.

You’re not stupid. You know what the third date usually entails, and the fact that Eddie invited you to his house when his uncle isn’t home just all but guarantees he’s thinking the same thing. It’s not like you can reprimand him for that either, since he took the first step and asked you out, you haven’t been exactly shy on telling him how attracted to him you are.

You’ve kissed enough times by now to know what he likes and what he doesn’t, but tonight was the farthest you’ve ever gone. The darkness of the drive in and the privacy of his van making it so, so easy for you to climb over the gear shift of his van and onto his lap and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, until his van’s windows were foggy and your lips were red and spit slicked and you could feel his hardness poking your thigh for a second, before he readjusted you on his lap as Michael Myers killed Laurie’s friends behind you.

“I really don’t understand why people always die after having sex in horror movies” you complain as you take off our shoes by the front door, his hand on your elbow so you don’t loose your balance. “It’s such a puritanical take.”

“It’s the satanic panic, sweetheart. Can’t have teenagers having pre marital sex” he answers as he toes off his own sneakers and guides you to his now familiar room, that you came to know at your other non official dates, when he had forced you to come over to listen to the new Metallica album and to watch him play guitar for you.

“It’s stupid, it’s what it is” you complain, walking into his room like you own the place. You start removing your jewelry and putting it on top of his dresser.

“Oh, so you are having pre marital sex, sweetheart?” His eyes are almost dancing and he’s wiggling his brows suggestively, teasing you.

Despite his teasing jokes, you can’t help the knot that tightens in your stomach just by thinking of sex and Eddie Munson in the same sentence. You want so bad to find out everything that makes him tick, how he likes to be touched and how he’d sound if you touched him. Tonight had been the farthest you ever got together, as you sat on his lap and felt his half hard cock almost burn a whole through your dress and felt him give you a particularly nasty hickey on your neck.

You throw him a bored glance over your shoulder, trying to smother the fire in your belly as he walks closer, cornering you against his desk as his chest presses to yours.

“Is that your way of asking if I’m gonna have sex with you?” you ask boldly, but smiling and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Since it’s our third date and all.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t wanna do that” he shakes his head vehemently and you raise your brows. “I mean, you just said people who have sex in horror movies die. I’d never risk my life like that.”

“So you’d risk mine?” You scoff indignantly.

He shrugs, “yeah, sure. Why not?”

“You wouldn’t survive even if you didn’t have sex anyway” you sulk playfully, feeling his hands reach for your waist and pull you closer.

“Excuse me? I resent that statement.”

“You’re the town’s satanist, remember? You’re the first suspect,” you explain as he walks backwards towards his bed, turning you around when he’s close enough and pushing you around until the mattress hits your knees. “You gotta die so people can be sure you aren’t really the killer.”

“What about you? Are you the pretty girl who survives despite it all?” He asks, his nose rubbing against yours and his lips so, so close.

“It depends…” you begin. “Are you gonna make a move on me or are we just talking about horror movie tropes all night?”

He laughs loudly, gently pushing you backwards until you fall and bounce on his bed, squealing loudly as you do. He immediately throws himself on the bed and crawls after you.

“Oh, we’re feeling feisty today, aren’t we?” He asks, kneeling as you your legs spread wider so he can slot himself in the space between them.

“I’ve been waiting long enough for you, Munson” you tease.

“Excuse me? You could’ve made a move! What about feminism?” He complains, lowering himself until he’s on top of you and his hips are pressed between your legs and you can feel his half hard cock from your time at the drive in probing your inner thigh.

“I’m a lady!” you protest, your hands climbing up his back to pull him impossibly closer. “We don’t do that”

He smiles but leans closer and closer, until his lips brush yours, but still doesn’t kiss you. You try to kiss him but he dodges you, one of his hands sinking into the hair at nape of your neck to tug it and pull you away as he holds himself up with his other hand.

“Beg for it then, little lady”

“Eddie-“ you whine, trying to kiss him again as he grips your hair to stop you almost forcefully.

“Say please for me?” He asks pressing a wet kiss to each of your cheeks gently, a stark contrast to his hand on your hair.

“Please, Eddie. Please kiss me.” You beg, scrunching your brows almost a little desperately.

He smirks smugly but obliges, leaning down to kiss you and releasing the hold he has on your hair. You brush your tongue against his bottom lip and he lets you in, making your nails dig on his back and your legs spread open even wider so you can feel more of him.

His hand slips under your skirt and he grabs your ass, squeezing one of your butt cheeks hard. You whine underneath him, grinding your hips against his.

“Wanted you like this for so long.” He whispers when he breaks the kiss, rolling his hips to meet yours and finding you so hot and warm he can feel it through his jeans.

“Not longer than me.” You answer, wrapping your legs around his hips. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked into the store.”

“Why do you think I walked in in the first place?” He murmurs against your lips, guiding your hips to meet his through layers of underwear and denim.

You feel infinitely more attracted to him at his admission and tug on his hair so you can kiss him again, again and again for what feels like hours, until you’re soaking through your underwear and his cock is rubbing a spectacularly good place around your clit.

He breaks the kiss to mouth on your neck, going lower until he’s reaching the neckline of your dress and sucking a mark bellow your collarbone.

“Thought so much about this,” you babble, your fingers sinking into his hair to keep his mouth on your cleavage, not really thinking about anything else but him. “Touched myself thinking about this.”

He immediately freezes on top of you and you regret your words as he pulls his mouth from your neck to see your face.

“Did you really?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yeah… is that- is that weird?” You ask self consciously and his hand shift from your ass to rub on your hip soothingly.

“Did you forget who you’re talking to? I’m the town freak,” he scoffs, squeezing your hip reassuringly. “That’s actually really fucking hot”

“You think so?” You ask, fiddling with his hair.

“Definitely” he nods rapidly, making his hair fly all over his face. You’re laughing quietly when he kisses you forcefully, but quickly. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

“Eddieee-“ you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“No, come on. Don’t hide from me.” He begs, pulling your hands away and holding them between his own.

“That’s embarrassing” you complain, playing with the rings still on his fingers.

“Why?” He shrugs. “I’ve done the same thing.”

You still, your brows raising in interest “you did?”

“Yeah,” he stammers, suddenly shy himself. “Is that weird?”

“No” you answer honestly, a hot star burning in your belly thinking about it. Thinking about him all alone in his room, getting hard and fisting his cock just at the mere thought of you, trying to keep quiet so his uncle can’t hear him. “What did you think about?”

“You,” he shrugs. You look at him curiously and he shrugs again. “What you’d sound like, what you’d look like if I got my hands on you… you know.”

“What else?”

“Why I am the only one baring my soul here?” He asks suddenly, his cheeks red and looking at you accusatorially.

“Sorry,” you say, scrunching your face in thought. “That’s not fair, is it?”

He shakes his head in no, “why don’t we make it a game? I tell you something and you tell me something?”

That sounds fair, you think to yourself. You do wanna know more, curiosity gnawing at your stomach to find out what he thought about you, if they’re the same things you did, if your fantasies match his.

“Fine” you agree, finally.

“So…” he teases, booping your nose playfully. “What did you think about?”

You look at him for a second, his bright brown eyes and flushed cheeks and his earnest expression. And you know in your heart Eddie would never betray you or shame you for whatever you’re about to say or do here in his room. Everything that happens in the private space between you is staying where it should be.

“Okay…” you begin, not sure where to start. “I thought about your fingers rubbing my clit, about how you’d feel with your head between my thighs.”

He looks like you’ve just told him Christmas came earlier, his hips unconsciously jerking against yours and the pressure of his grip on your hips increasing. You sigh and your hands climb up his arms to his back, rubbing your hands between his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot” he splutters, his hips still moving slowly on top of yours and his hand digging, tightening his hold on your bare hips. “I thought about that too…how you’d like it, what you’d sound like. Thought about how you’d look with my cock in your mouth, with my cum on your tits.”

“I bet you looked so fucking good jerking off”

He suddenly leans down to kiss you again, all tongue and teeth, his hips still driving against yours. He roughly pulls away when you’re both breathless and you’re almost feeling dazed.

“Why don’t you show me what you look like when you touch yourself, pretty girl?” He murmurs, his lips still brushing against yours and tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

You nod avidly, wanting nothing but to relieve the pressure building in your lower stomach and to put on a show for him, show him what you could’ve been doing all this time if either of you had just made a move sooner. He leans away to be able to see all of you, his hands spreading your thighs when he kneels between them.

You slide your hand down your belly, lifting your dress up to your waist so your lower half is exposed. He watches avidly, following your fingers as you slip them under your underwear and find yourself wet and swollen, a moan leaving your lips at the feeling of finally being touched.

“The first time I touched myself thinking about you,” you begin, your previous shame turning into hot liquid licking down your spine at the way he’s looking at you right now. “Was after you told me you were in a band. You know what they say about guitarists, right? I kept thinking if that was true”

He exhales a laugh through his nose, pushing his hair away from his face. He squeezes your thigh meanly, like molding bread underneath his fingertips.

“You’ll find out” he promises.

“Can I take these off?” You complain, already pushing your underwear down your legs with his help and quickly getting rid of your dress too, baring yourself completely to him since you’re not wearing a bra. He casually throws your clothes over his shoulder, not caring where or how they land, his whole focus on you as he sprawls you open, forcing your thighs against his sheets so he can see your bare pussy, his hands spreading your legs so wide it almost aches.

You smear your wetness around your entrance to your clit and start rubbing it under your fingertips, slowly building a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Such a pretty pussy, why’d keep it away from me for so long?”

He swiftly pulls his shirt over the back of his head, exposing miles of pale and inked skin. You barely have time admire him as he comes closer, so close you can feel his hard cock against the back of your hand over denim, one of his hands shifting up your thigh to brush his thumb over your ribs.

“Can I…?” He starts, looking intently at your breasts and you interrupt him.

“Yes, yes” you breathe out and increase the speed of your fingers over your clit, as he slides his hands up to experimentally brush his thumb over your nipple.

“Fuck, have been dying to get my hands on them” he admits, cupping the weight of your breast on his hands and then pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Looked so pretty with those tank tops, almost couldn’t stop looking”

You mewl underneath him, the feeling of his body so close, his fingers pulling and twisting your nipples and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him making you climb to your peak faster than usual. He takes notice of the way your hips are moving in time with your hand and squeezes your nipple harder, leaning down until you’re face to face.

“You’re gonna cum, sweet thing? Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

Your free hand pulls him closer by the neck so you can kiss him, exhaling into his mouth as you furiously rub your clit. Nothing but thoughts of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie echoing through your mind. He guides you through your high, whispering sweet nothings against your mouth, pressing his lips to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead as his hips grinding against your thigh.

When you’re finally done, your fingers moving away from your clit because of the sensitivity and his arms thrown over you as he lays on the spot next you, watching you in awe like you just played the sickest guitar riff ever.

“I knew you incredible before,” he says, his fingers stroking the skin of your ribs, tracing the bone underneath. “But damn, sweetheart.”

“Shut up” you complain laughingly, turning on your side to see him. His face is bright red, like he just came back from a run and his hair’s incredibly messy, more than usual and his brown eyes are so, so bright and happy.

You can’t help but lean over to press a kiss to his lips, a lingering one that goes on for a long time. The previously put out embers in your belly lighting up a fire again. You’re starting to slip your hand down his body to cup his erection when he stops you. You pull away to look at him questioning until you notice how shifty he is, and you look at his crotch only to find a wet spot there.

“Did you just…?” You begin.

“Y-yeah… listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry-” you interrupt before he can continue apologizing, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“That’s so fucking hot.” you claim matter-of-factly, still suffocating him with quick kisses on his lips.

“There’s no way you think that, you don’t have to spare my feelings-“

“Excuse me? I think the fact you were so turned on over me touching myself you came in your pants so incredibly fucking hot, thank you very much” you climb over him, straddling his body in all your naked glory and his eyes can’t seem to be able to stop roaming your body, his eyes constantly shifting from your tits, to your belly, to your hips and to your mound.

“Okay, okay. If you think so, sweetheart” he says appeasingly, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You lean down again until you’re face to face and you can kiss his lips wetly.

“When does your uncle get home again?” You ask between kisses.

“Around 7am… why?”

You pull away to see his face and you can’t contain the beaming smile taking over yours.

“How long until you can get going again?” You question, slowly moving your hips on top of him. He watches you eagerly.

“Not long,” he answer and you can feel the damp patch of denim underneath you getting wetter as you grind against him. You also can distinctly feel his cock twitching through his underwear. “With the way you’re all over me”

You throw your head back in laughter and he digs his fingers on your hips painfully.

“Then maybe you can show me what exactly you were thinking about when you jerked off… something about my mouth on your cock and your cum on my tits?”

“You’re fucking perfect” he states seriously, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He pulls you down until he’s hungrily kissing you, all tongue and teeth and way too wet, but you can’t really complain.

Turns out, he doesn’t really need that long to get hard again. Who would’ve thought?

[cheezritsu]

The story of how you and Reo Mikage became friends isn’t overly exciting, but it’s a necessary tangent. A precursor, really.

Reo is a collector of impossible things. Call it a byproduct of being rich. His favorite things of all are the things he can’t have. He plays soccer as a dream; a sport he has no business being in as it brings no value to his future fortune. His best friend is a reclusive giant who seems to barely tolerate him. Which, eh. Nagi is his treasure—he’s the person that never bullshits him, the person who says what he’s thinking no matter what. Nagi feels like a compass the same way you do: if Nagi truly hates it, it’s probably worth letting go.

You and Nagi are alike in so many ways: you’re something he took the time to dig in the dirt for, only to polish it and realize it’s precious. A friend he shouldn’t have because your social status deems it so. A treasure born from nothing but whim. Something to chase. Something he can love.

Reo Mikage loves you both, which is why when Reo meets Nagi for the first time, he makes you go to karaoke together.

He’s an actual idiot for making the quietest people he knows go to karaoke, but he lets you bring your friends to be comfortable and invites his entire soccer team for Nagi. “For” being the operative word here. None of this is for either of you. It’s all for Reo.

You don’t mind. Not really. You love Reo too. Reo escapes to you and Aiura’s dorm when he doesn’t wanna go home. Which, with the ongoing soccer drama, has been more frequent. You’re in the same class again, this time sitting next to each other. Reo really is a prince that way, protecting you from gossip and bullies, brandishing his smile the way one uses a rapier. Efficiently and lethally. Aiura also sits next to you, but it’s been the Reo show since school started.

Aiura twirls the boba straw in her drink as you stare absently at Reo. Your karaoke room is—shocker—the biggest one they have. It’s decked out in all signature silly decorations. Reo is literally standing atop the huge long table with the rest of his team, the boys loudly singing Fighting Dreamers. They’re moshing and having fun, save for the white haired boy being jostled under Reo’s hooked arm.

“Who’s Snow White?” Aiura jokes, but it’s a good nickname for him. He’s sleepy looking, with low lidded dark eyes and a neutral expression one might only get when they hit the pillow. He blinks slowly and slumps out of Reo’s grip, falling back on the bench and staying there.

“You ever met him before?”

“Nope.”

Hina and Aiura shake their drinks in the same circular motion. The syncronity feels condescending. “Reo seems chummy with him. You for real don’t know him?”

There it is. You roll your eyes. “I don’t know everyone he knows. You know how it is,” you shift your gaze back to the karaoke stage, seeing Reo bleat out the first verse of MCR’s Helena. A personal favorite of his for no reason. His soccer team is cheering relentlessly, like he’s Gerard Way reincarnated.

Reo’s lifestyle is a revolving door of people. You needn’t learn names because in several weeks time, like a micro trend, they’ll be gone.

Aiura hums. Behind her lime green manicured hand she whispers something to Hina, who whispers back.

“Streets is sayin’ that’s Nagi Seishiro.”

The name isn’t familiar. You two just shrug.

“So, another boy?”

“Another boy,” you sigh. Reo didn’t have many girl friends that weren’t girlfriends. You usually liked them, until the feeling was unrequited. They hated your presence and Reo, who was sharper than most gave him credit for, broke up with them when he found out.

“You mean more to me than they do.”

You never let the charming words coil around your heart. Reo was a smooth talker, but at his core he’s just another rich boy. And you haven’t any interest in that.

“I fucking better,” is your reply, with a hardy punch.

These days Reo usually has the company of a soccer team member, some underclass man who thinks the real resume grabber is knowing Reo Mikage. Not a bad thought, but it still makes you frown.

Seishiro Nagi may be another one of those boys. He drinks from his soda cup with a bendy straw, barely moving his neck forward to meet it. The pitch of the room skyrockets as another anime opening scrolls across the screen, and Nagi’s face creases in discomfort. With his eyes pinched closed and a scrunched nose, he looks just like a disgruntled cat. You try to swallow your involuntary giggle, but Aiura and Hina catch it.

Hina stretches her neck. “What’re you giggling about?”

“Nothing,” you garble around a mouth full of boba.

“Don’t try to distract me by grossing me out.”

Aiura narrows her eyes. If a thousand yard stare could be pointed, that’s what she does. “It’s the boy.”

“Reo?” Hina asks, and you snort.

“Since when is Reo “the boy”?”

Hina rolls her eyes. “Since you had a public meet cute in the quad?”

Phlegm probably escapes you from how hard you scoff. “We had a Mexican standoff??”

“Y’all argued at best,” Aiura defends.

“You weren’t evened there!” Aiura bats away your accusatory finger with a quick roll of her eyes. “The point still stands. Reo was never “the boy.” “

“The boy is Nagi Seishiro,” Aiura nods in the direction. Nagi’s fluffy white hair reflects all the lights beautifully, like a neon halo.

“Didn’t Reo throw this party for yall to meet?”

That premise has fully eluded you. “Damn, you’re right.”

“Well he sucks as a host. You should introduce yourself.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because he’s leaving.”

The room is a chaotic wonderland of yelling, singing and courting. A few of the players on the team try to flirt with your friends, mostly to no avail. Reo, being the common denominator in some way, fractions his attention to everyone except the guests of honor, who have slipped out under his nose.

It wasn’t your intention to follow Nagi. You really were not going to introduce yourself. You just needed air.

You sit down on the bench just outside the room. The pulsing beat of the next song reverbs out into the empty hallway. It’s kind of soothing to be on the outside again; you’re back in the peripheral, a comfortable spot. Flipping through your phone, you found the otome game currently ruining your wallet; an American based game called The Arcana. You had daily spins to replenish, hopefully a way to get more keys for your story.

You criss cross your legs, settling in. You play the slots first, getting a few coins but no keys. The second game was always a gamble; you had four lives total, meaning four keys to potentially win. You’re good mini games. They’re fun to hone in on and lose yourself in the task. The absolutely gorgeous characters aren’t bad to look at either. You hunch forward to giggle at the little romance scenarios that play out, shutting out the world around you. Shutting out Nagi Seishiro, who stands before you.

Nagi stares at the barely visible sliver of your screen. He thought maybe you were on Instagram or Snapchat, but as it turns out you’re playing something. Something he doesn’t know.

He tilts his head trying to get a better look. Your curly hair blocks his vision of the phone. Nagi has never seen hair like yours in person. It really does look like springs; small, shiny little spirals radiating out from the top of your head. Is it soft? How could it be?

Nagi is so lost in the uzumaki like spirals of your hair that he brings the back of his hand to the top your head and skims his knuckles over it and oh-

It’s fairy soft and defying gravity. The little coil bounces, and Nagi’s about to wrap it around his finger when he looks down.

“Wh-“ your startled gasp reminds him of why he’s here. You’re looking up, and past your chin is your unlocked phone. He’s never seen those characters before; they’re beautifully drawn, and decidedly not Japanese.

“Hey, what game is that?” The same finger that was inches from your head points into your lap. Your brows scrunch.

“What?”

“The game? On your phone?” Nagi gets tired of standing and sits beside you. His thigh brushes against your bare knee and the friction feels like lava. “Is it fun? The graphics are pretty.”

Nagi finally looks at your face. He decides that if you were drawn in that art style it would suit you. Unreal, gravity defying hair, pretty eyes framed with crazy long lashes, and lovely lips with an almost two-toned saturation that draws attention, even though you’re fighting for your next words.

“It’s called The Arcana,” you say, but it’s drawn out like you’re going to say more. Nagi waits, and then hears “Did you just touch my hair?”

“Oh?” Nagi’s lips purse, like a pout but more sheepish. He didn’t think you’d noticed. Well, that was a lie, but he didn’t think you’d care. Don’t girls think stuff like that is cute?

“I’m sure some girls do, but this ain’t a petting zoo.” Shit, he said that out loud. And you’re upset. Fuck. He’s like 100% sure that you’re Reo’s friend. His best friend, the one he’s always talking about. The one he borrows books from that have those colored tabs. The one he’s always buying trinkets for. Like the little phone strap you’ve got with—who is that, is it Itadori Yuji?

“Hey!” There you go again, making Nagi feel bad for not listening. The pout reappears on his face, before he slumps back.

This feels weird. Nagi’s having…emotions now and it sucks. It’s bothersome. But, he doesn’t feel inconvenienced by you, he feels inconvenienced by himself. He’s making himself feel stupid and that’s far worse than sitting next to you.

Nagi’s head hits the wall. “M’sorry,” he slurs lazily, turning his head to properly meet your eyes. “I didn’t mean that. Your hair’s pretty, that’s all.”

Oh. The words are blunt force trauma, the head of a baseball bat butted into your sternum. The perpetual drowsiness in his voice makes it feel more like the truth; someone that tired wouldn’t have it in them to lie, right?

You swallow down the damage done to your heart. “Still doesn’t mean you can touch it without permission.”

“Hmm.” Is all he says, staring vacantly for a second. And then “well, can I?”

You’re either dumb or whipped for saying yes. One is far worse than the other. But Nagi Seishiro is gentle when he plucks out a particular curl and runs it between his fingers. Deftly, sweetly, his finger hooks onto the end of the curl and it twirls around the digit. His hands are much bigger than you initially thought. You’re going cross eyed looking at them.

“That’s cool,” Nagi says, and a small smile graces his features. His eyes are actually grey up close. Smokey, endless, and all at once those sleepy, feline like crescents. “Thanks.”

No one’s ever thanked you for touching your hair. No one’s ever been that reverent about it either. Nagi pulls his hand away like he’s finally been sated, drawing his knees up to mimick your criss crossed legs.

“M’ Nagi, by the way.” His belated introduction is funnier in hindsight. It’s very Nagi; satisfy the curiosity first, then do the regular stuff. “Reo dragged me here.”

“Me too. I’m y/n.”

“Are you going to be around more?”

Nagi’s pulling out his phone. You aren’t sure how to answer his question. You’re pretty much always around, whatever Nagi meant by that. Unless he meant more around him.

There’s a spiking heat under your cheeks, something you don’t wanna bring attention to. He seems to have forgotten your existence, looking down at the loading screen off his App Store. But he doesn’t type anything for a minute. He’s waiting.

Nagi shrugs. “You’re less of a hassle than he is.” His thumb presses up to the search icon. “How do you spell Arcana?”

[wheredafandomat]

The Creature Beneath

Written by @wheredafandomat and @simplyholl 🖤

Summary: You inherit the creepy lakefront property that's been in your family for generations. There's only one problem- the monster that has terrorized the property for years. Is the legend true? Is there really a monster under the surface?

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

Contains lyrics from “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac

Whore-O-Ween Masterlist

You heard the legend your whole life, about the creature that lived in the lake on your grandparents’ property. You and your cousins weren’t allowed to go near it growing up. Your dad and all his siblings could say the same.

It was like that for generations. Your great aunt Irene had seen something out there when she was eighteen and nobody believed her at the time. Her family wrote it off as her wild imagination.

But she wouldn’t let it go. Her sister, your great grandmother Hazel, shared a room with her. One night Irene woke up in a trance and walked outside to the lake. Hazel followed her, begging her to stop. But it was too late. When Irene reached the water’s edge, a horrible, giant monster emerged. He grabbed her ankle, dragging her into the water with him.

Hazel jumped in to save her, but they disappeared. She ran inside to get help. People searched for days before Irene’s body was found. Everyone agreed that Hazel had been half asleep and only imagined the creature to cope with her sister’s death.

Irene had been sleepwalking and drown in the lake. Hazel knew the truth. When she and her husband inherited the land, they vowed to never let the creature hurt anyone else. They could never sell the property. Anyone wanting to buy it would never believe them. It was too dangerous.

So they kept the property in the family. Your father was the oldest child, so he got it after your grandparents’ deaths. He decided to sign it over to you. You were an only child who still lived with your parents. He told you it was time for you to be on your own. You spent two weeks cleaning the house and moving your belongings in. When it finally looked how you wanted, your dad was ready to leave.

You walk him to his car. He gives you a hug, placing a kiss on top of your head. “What’s the only rule?” He asks as if you were still a child, not a fully grown woman. “Stay away from the lake.” You roll your eyes, like you could ever forget that. “I mean it.” He says seriously before driving away.

You always thought your dad’s side of the family was out of their minds. Irene was a young girl with nothing to do. She was probably bored and made the creature up. It was definitely a sleepwalking accident. Hazel was so horrified by seeing her sister jump in, that she went along with Irene’s creature story.

You would never tell your dad that you didn’t believe the legend. You always loved this house. It was huge with a large backyard and the lake was beautiful, even though the grass was grown up all around it from years of neglect. You spot the lawn mower in the garage, taking it down to the lake. You know your dad would overreact if he knew you were down here.

But you wanted your new home to be perfect. You start the machine attempting to cut the grass. You turn it off quickly, glancing over your shoulder. You could have sworn you heard someone call your name. You look at the lake, there’s no way you heard what you thought. You’re just nervous because you weren’t supposed to be over here.

You start mowing again, looking all around you the whole time. You finish without another incident. When night falls, you sit down at your desk by the window. It overlooks the lake. You were surprised your grandparents didn’t have the window removed so they wouldn’t have to see it every day.

You call your mom to tell her you went to the lake in an attempt to clean up. She always thought your dad and his family were silly for believing it. There haven’t been any more sightings of the creature since Irene and Hazel. You giggle over the secret you both share. “It’s not even that creepy. I think we should build a deck and we could swim in the summer. It’s really a waste leaving it abandoned after all this time.”

You look up, something moving outside catches your eye. You see a naked man with dark curls walking around by the water. “Mom, stay on the phone with me. I just saw a guy out here.” You find your dad’s old baseball bat in the hallway closet. You walk outside clutching it to your chest. You’re unsure of what you would do if you actually saw him out here.

You walk around and find nothing. You go back inside, still on the phone. You check every closet, under every bed to make sure the man didn’t come into the house. You lock all the doors and latch all the windows. After tossing and turning all night, you finally fall asleep dreaming of a beautiful man calling for you.

The following day passed quietly. You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling that lingered in your stomach at the reminder of the previous night. Your mother was still worried, she had every right to be. You assured her all was well, despite how little you believed that. You managed to get a couple of officers to do a quick check around the property.

They confirmed no one was there. They assured you were safe, and that was enough for your mom to stop calling you once every hour. As the evening began to draw in, you forgot about the events of last night. The unsettling feeling was replaced by hunger, so you decided to make dinner.

Whilst in the kitchen, you turned the radio on as you cooked, singing along to some of the songs and swaying your hips. Yesterday was completely forgotten under the security blanket of Fleetwood Mac and pasta. Just as you started playing your food, the radio began to glitch. A loud, static sound replaced the lyrics of “Dreams.” You tried hitting it to get it to work again, but it didn’t help. Sighing, you roll your eyes before catching a sight of a figure outside. Yelping, you blink before it disappeared, the radio returning back to normal.

“Now here I go again I see the crystal vision”

Considering whatever you saw had now disappeared, you blamed it on the sleep deprivation. You kept reminding yourself that the police said they couldn’t find anything. You were safe. But you couldn’t help glancing out if the window every now and then, almost hoping to spot something. You needed solid proof to call the police again, solid proof of something out there to ensure you weren’t going crazy.

You didn’t bother washing the dishes or finishing your food before you headed upstairs in need of a relaxing bath. You wanted to just put everything behind you. You were certain a hot bath and a long sleep was just the trick. You dip your fingers into the water wanting to test the temperature before you got inside.

Pleased, you entered, allowing the water to pull you in, covering you in a blanket of warmth. You closed your eyes, sinking further down into the water as it engulfed you, your face barely above the water. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until you saw him, the man from last night walking around outside again. You began to follow him, his skin looked ethereal under the glow of the moon.

His curls appeared wet, but no water dripped onto his alabaster back. You continued to follow him, his pull was magnetic, only stopping once you heard his voice. “Y/N.” Gasping, you awoke, eyes opening as you tried to sit up, only to find yourself unable to. You thrashed in the bath, the water sloshing out of the side as you fought to get up.

But something was holding you down. Something unyielding. You kept trying, unable to breathe as the sound of the radio came into focus. The radio you were certain you left downstairs.

“You say you want your freedom well who am I to keep you down”

You could feel your life slipping away, but you were unable to do anything apart from surrender to the water. Just as you did, your eyes opened, body shooting upwards as you woke up from whatever cruel nightmare had consumed you. You glance around, there was no radio, only silence. Taking deep breaths, you quickly got out of the bath.

You couldn’t sleep again. Not after tonight’s events. You sit by the window, eyes completely focused on the lake. Hours passed and you didn’t see anything. Your eyes grew heavy, your head fell off your hand, startling you awake. You take a quick break from watching to go to the bathroom. When you get back, everything is still the same.

You grab your phone, scrolling aimlessly when you hear it. The rich, dulcet voice of the man, the one from your dreams, the one you saw outside. You listen carefully, it sounds like singing. Where is he? You watch as the lake starts to bubble. The mysterious man rises to the top. The haunting melody continues, pulling you outside like a magnet.

When you realize he’s luring you, it’s too late. You’re standing right in front of him. You take in your surroundings, there is nothing you can use to protect yourself. “Who are you? What do you want?” You ask him, your voice shaking with every word. He smiles, and he is stunning.

“Do not be afraid. My name is Loki.” You’re suddenly not scared anymore, almost like he willed it to happen by saying it. “What are you doing here?” He takes a step toward you. “I have lived here for many years, long before your family. I was cursed and banished to this body of water. I must break the curse so I can be free. Please help me, I beg of you.”

You reach for him instinctively. “Did you call Irene to you? Did you kill her?” You had to know before you agreed to help him. “It’s true. I called for her like I have you. I wanted her to help break the curse. When she arrived, she kept screaming about a terrible monster. She was hysterical. She jumped in the water, and I tried to save her. By the time I reached her, she hit her head on the rocks at the bottom. It was too late.”

His explanation made sense. But why did Irene think she saw some sort of monster? The man in front of you was far from that. He looked like an angel. Obsidian curls cascading passed his shoulders, green eyes that shined like the stars. He was otherworldly. You had to chastise yourself when you looked down at his exposed body.

He was built like a god with a cock to match. You had been trying not to stare at it the whole time. You felt bad for him, truly. He was trapped out here for years. Your family branded him a monster, when he just needed help.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” He walks closer, pulling you into his arms. “Thank you. I can’t believe I’ll finally be free. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” You hug him back. “Just tell me what I need to do.” You search his face for any clues, but he’s hard to read.

“It’s simple really. I have to lie with a woman to break the curse.” You process what he says. All you have to do is have sex with this man you were strangely attracted to. You weigh your options. You could say no, but it would be awkward living here with him bound to the lake, not to mention cruel.

If you say yes, you will have your lake back. Plus, you hadn’t had sex in a while. He hadn’t even seen any women except for your eighty-year-old grandmother in years. He would definitely fuck you like he’s fresh out of jail or dark dingy lake. You would be a fool to turn him down. You lay on the ground, beckoning Loki to you with your finger.

He settles between your legs, face angled down toward yours. His lips brush your own, you expect him to be cold, but he’s so warm. You return his kiss eagerly, but he pulls away. Tilting your chin upwards you stare into his green eyes. “Slow down, love. I want to take my time.” He kisses along your jaw all the way to your collar bone.

Your silky nightgown is the only barrier between you. The sheer gown leaves little to the imagination. Loki licks at one nipple through the silk, long fingers tease the other. You arch your back, aching for him. You need more. But Loki takes his time, giving each breast equal attention. His hand grazes your thigh, lifting the gown to your hips. You weren’t wearing any panties, so you were bare before him.

He swipes a finger through your glistening folds. “So beautiful.” He whispers, dipping two fingers inside you. He watches your face as you reach for him, needing to ground yourself. He gives you his free hand, caressing the soft skin by your thumb. You look to the stars twinkling in the night sky while you lose yourself in him.

He swirls the pad of his thumb against your clit. You don’t want to lose the feeling, so you buck your hips, riding his fingers. You close your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. He spreads your legs further apart, pushing into you slowly. You reach for his hand again, using it for comfort. You feel safe with him. His forehead connects with yours and it’s like no one else exists.

Each stroke is deliberate, he lifts your leg higher, causing him to hit deeper. You rock your hips, and you can tell he’s close. He lowers his head to the crook of your neck, teeth skimming your shoulder. You shatter for the second time. You clench around him, calling his name. He cums inside you with a growl. You remove your hand from his, twisting a dark curl between your fingers.

“Did it work?” You ask concerned. You expect the curse to be broken like in the movies with a cartoon flourish. “There’s only one way to find out. Follow me.” He takes your hand, leading you to the water’s edge. “Wait, why do we need to go in there? Shouldn’t we go the other way to see if you’re brought back here?”

You hesitate, trying to pull him toward the house. Loki doesn’t answer, he tightens his grip on your hand, dragging you to the water. “Loki, what are you doing? Stop! Loki! “You cry, trying to break free. He tires of your fighting, lifting you into his arms, he enters the lake.

You hit his back as hard as you can with your fists. You scream, cry, and plead with him. You drag your nails down his arms trying to draw blood, anything to deter him. He brings you out to the middle, walking further under the surface. Panic sets in. How could you trust this man when your family feared him for generations?

You ignored every warning, running right to him. The water fills your lungs while you thrash around trying to free yourself. Loki transforms from the gorgeous man to a giant green monster. The hands you held for comfort turn into webbed claws. His face grows sinister. White, straight teeth are replaced by jagged, yellow razors. Soft, pale skin turns rough and scaly.

He holds you closely, laughing as you try to fight him. “Foolish girl, this is my home. Your family took this from me. I won’t stop until you are all destroyed. You see what you want to see. Irene was terrified of the lake from the beginning. So, I appeared as my true self. I wasn’t expecting her sister to follow her when I lured her out.

It was no matter; she didn’t even fight back. I went after her sister as well, but she was too far away. I remained hidden for years, waiting for one of you to come near. It was so easy. You were so eager to help the poor man trapped in the lake. So cock hungry that you let me fuck you.”

Your lungs burn so badly you can’t fight back. You’re growing so weak; it won’t be long now. The only good thing that would come from your death was that a few more generations of your family would be too scared to come out here. It would stop him temporarily.

The legend was true. A monster did live in the lake, and he was more evil than you could have imagined.

A/N: I want to say a hugeeeee thank you on behalf of myself and the lovely @simplyholl for following along this month, it honestly means a lot 🖤🖤 happy Halloween 🎃

Tags

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[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

The Forgotten Maiden || Part 1

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Character: Zhongli

Type: Angst, and tragedy Content: You are the God of Light, you were once Zhongli’s beloved lover as he promised his full heart to you before his departure to the archon war, however, once he returned, he was injured and lost his memory of you. You figured out that he fought the god of memories and the impact of this fight affected his memories of you. 

[ Please don’t repost, this is my original story. ]

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You were standing alone on Starsnatched Clift, reminiscing events of the past. When you realized he hasn’t remembered you, you tried everything in your power to help him remember. Pictures, monuments, structures, even silly contracts that you and him made together as jokes. Nothing. Helplessness is all you felt now. You lost your home, your lover and your self in one day, without protest. The moment you saw he was happy in Liyue, seeing his friends, eating at restaurants, was the moment you decided, maybe it is for the best.  He as another life now, and you don’t have the right to intrude on that anymore. He is happy and that is all you want. Ever since then, it’s been about 1000 years since you’ve seen him. You avoided him. Him? No. You avoided heartbreak. You now wander Teyvat alone, helping Travelers, and using your powers in little ways. Bringing light onto struggling trees and plant, helping the sun shine brighter, Lighting up dark places, and helping in other small ways. I guess you can say you were a traveler yourself. Your light can help any flower grow despite the circumstances.  You were living a isolated and quiet life until you met Lumine and Paimon. You accompanied them in bounties, commission, and helped them collect certain plants. However, Lumine requested your help with something that makes you nervous.  “So, what do you say?” Lumine says with sparkling eyes.  “U-Um, I am not sure, I haven’t been in Liyue for a while, and for a reason at that.” You responded, nervously.  “What reason would that be? Paimon is curious.” Paimon pushed on the subject a little farther.  “Haha, that is a secret.” You smiled, saving yourself from your history being exposed. “Why do I need to go to Liyue to grow glaze lilies? I can just grow them here and harvest them for you, friend.”  Lumine continues to explain. “Well...I am helping Mr.Zhongli, He wants to collect these things. I tried to sing to them but not much luck. So was hoping you could have better luck.” You signed and looked towards the side. You thought about it a bit. Do you really wanna see Morax right now? However, it has been a 1000 years, you feel like you have given up and you won’t react to these situation the way you used to. Maybe, you can handle it... You were so wrong, you can’t handle it. Just as you arrived in Liyue harbor through Guili Plains, you felt so much emotions. Liyue was a place that hurts being in. However, you kept yourself together, for Lumine, a friend. You two continued to traveled through Liyue, looking at stores and restaurants. Liyue really has prosper, throughout the years. You made some mental notes on revisiting some areas for yourself later.  You were enjoying the view, until-

“Mr. Zhongli, I found someone who can help with the Glaze Lilies!” Lumine said happily and looked at you. 

You froze, his outfit was different but he still had the same face. However you sense him as a human now, rather then a god. You wanted to hide, and disappear. You hated this, you hated Liyue, you hated him. You sucked it up and gave it your best smile, despite the heavy heart of a face you used to kiss. A face you desire more affection and touch from. Seeing his hands, that hands that used to touch you, hold you, your face -- you desperately tried to hold back you desire to touch him familiarly. You really were touch starved. 

“Ah, you must be the proclaimed “Light Maiden” I have been hearing so much about, your adventures have seem to help people all around and about.” The tall brown gentlemen with formal attire greeted you through rumors heard. He had his arms crossed, and closed his eyes thinking about all the information he has heard about you. This happens to be enough to perk his interest in you and the powers you have. This made you feel knotted in your stomach, you wanted to avoid him in all cost. You want, no interest at all.  You smiled and tilt your head a bit.”L-Light Maiden?” 

“Yes, have you not been aware of your reputation?” He said with his hand to his chin, forever pondering your being.  You did a light hearted laugh. “Haha, no, not at all. I just offer assistance to whoever needs it.” 

Zhongli nodded.”Virtue is one of the best languages to be spoken, it brings only greatness to those who have it and those you gives it.”  Lumine smiled and redirected the conversation. “ Let’s head to the glaze lily field, we shouldn’t hold up on this any longer.”  “I agree, lets.” Zhongli agreed and began to lead the way. You followed quietly but tiredly due to this meeting. Or well “Reunion”. They lead you to a dead field, with only glass, but no glaze lilies.  “Here?” You asked and looked around. “ There are no Glaze lilies here.” You placed your hand on the ground.  “Yes, unfortunately, it’s rare to find them in the wild, humans grow them artificially, however, it’s been years since I’ve seen one grow outside of Liyue like this.” He explained, retaining his experience with the blue flower.  Lumine chimed in. “As you guys do that, Paimon and I will go get the Bell from Madam Ping!” She smiled and turned away, leaving you two alone.  You signed at this condition and circumstance you are in. You want to leave and want this to get over with. Despite it being night time, you looked around, seeing for spots to grow a batch of Glaze Lilies. You worked quietly trying to ignore Zhongli.  You placed your hands together and a bright sunlike hue glowed from it, it grew brighter like it was a mini sun. You held it over the dead dirt area as Glaze lilies started to grow to a full adult at a fast pace.  Zhongli all of a sudden spoken out curiosity and awe. “ You truly do have these powers.” 

You scoffed, “Did you think I was lying?” You said gently and continued your work.  Zhongli, “No, not at all, my apologies if I came off that way. I merely was just speaking my thoughts. These Glazed Lilies looks like the finest I have ever seen.”  You chose not to respond and kept on working. Zhongli continued to speak. “ This reminds me of the God of Light, it has been said that she was a kind god. However, she fell into depression once she lost her lover had lost memory of her and she went into hiding.” You froze as the light you were using went out in a second. “I see.” You checked the flowers and kept the back of your head to him. You tighten your fist. 2000 years of grief have been building up in you.  “It is still unknown who her lover i-”

“What do you know?” You instant cut him off and spoken to him harshly.  Zhongli stood and looked at you. “It seems I might’ve upset you with this topic.”  You turned your head to give him the coldest side glare you have ever given him. “You know nothing Morax and you will still continue to know nothing.”  Zhongli unfazed, standing still. “Seemingly you knowing my true name can signify that we have some history together, Though I can’t tell who yo-” “NO ONE! I was never anyone to you! You forgotten me 2,000 years ago, the one day in the centuries I come to see you, you start spouting nonsense about me to my face.” Despite it being 1000 years since you saw him, he forgotten you 2000 years ago, at the end of the archon war. You tried to help him remember you for 1000 years, but once it was no use, you left. Thus, not seeing him for the second half.

Zhongli widen his eyes in surprised at your sudden outburst and claim to being the god of light, even more, him being the lover that forgotten her.  You started to tear up, you were so angry, and spiteful. All these years and this is what you got? Of course, you knew better, he didn’t remember you, but that only makes it worse. It got even worse that he stood there unfazed with an unchanging expression, as if he is trying to assess the situation. Frustration. Years of Frustration quells upon your throat. All he could give was his silence. You weren’t expecting him to magically get his memory back but deep inside, you hoped for some flicker of recognition of you in his eyes.  You took a deep breathe and turned away. You lost your cool, and now very heated. You immediately walked away and disappeared, you’ve had enough, leaving half grown glazed lilies along with a seemingly uncaring man. 

[wyn-n-tonic]

What Lovers Do

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!reader Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: Awkward first time sex. Blood. Author's Note: I was talking with my friends about what sleeping with Bob might be like as a first time after it's been a LONG TIME since sex and this happened. You're welcome. Or I'm sorry. Whichever one you find the most fitting for you.

A new letter to add to the pile, every single one saved since you first started sending them. 

Everybody called it old fashioned and silly. Told us we have computers and cellphones now and that the Navy isn’t prison, he’d have access. But there’s something that’s just stuck about it, about the joke that you’d write him every day until he sent one saying he was coming home

On one of the phone calls taken through timezones and half closed eyes, he said he liked it. He looks forward to mail call each day and he looks forward to coming back to base to find so many waiting for him that he gets to read like a book. He thinks, you think, that it tempered the hormones and the newness of it all.

A United States Postal Service version of courtship.

And now he’s coming home.

The boy you crushed over as a child on the swings while your mothers sipped coffee on the deck. The first boy you ever kissed with no knowledge of what kissing was or what it meant. In one of those letters, he brought it up.

Remember that time I kissed you when we were four?

You did, you do. He said it was what people who loved each other did, mommies and daddies. You were playing house, it made sense and, yes, you loved him. In the way that children understand love that is.

You understood this was a person in your life, you saw him all the time. For you, that made sense. He made sense and when he wasn’t there anymore, it didn’t make sense why you and your parents couldn’t go with him and his. Why they couldn’t stay.

And now he’s coming home. Three months after you started talking again. Three months after you walked into a dinner, a small party, thrown by your parents to welcome his back and found a grown up version of that very same boy from before.

He accompanied you to the store to get more wine and then out the door back out to those swings that were never taken down. Then in a walk around the neighborhood that turned into a drive around town that turned into talking on the phone and letters. 

When the letters started, you weren’t even a thing. Truthfully, really, you don’t even know if you’re a thing now. It was there on the tip of both of your tongues, the idea was present. The letter he sent asking if you remembered the kiss is the same one where he confessed that he’d been harboring a crush his whole life. He said it was easier to tell you that way because, if you didn’t feel the same, you didn’t have to answer and he could suffer the rejection on a delayed timeframe instead of hearing the click of the phone as you hung it up. 

The letter says today, which is not what he said on the phone last night. Today, at five, on a plane coming from San Diego. Except it’s six and you just read it and there’s no chance you can get to the airport and he’s not answering his phone. So all you can do is pace and check your make up over and over again attempting to have control over something. Sure, you could clean but you’ve already told him how messy you are and these are not cleaning nerves. 

Truthfully, these aren’t even nerves you’ve had since prom night with another guy you didn’t particularly like in the back of a car you didn’t particularly feel comfortable in.

Three knocks then and one more glance in the mirror checking for a run in black tights, a stain on the white sweater or a rip in the skirt. Maybe smudged lipstick. Just anything to prolong answering the door if it can get these nerves down.

Because this is Bob, the one who makes sense. The one who, really, has always made sense. These nerves shouldn’t be here, there’s nothing about him to be nervous over.

Except you haven’t kissed him since you were four and the letter he sent said he couldn’t wait to do just that, that he felt like there was so much lost time to make up for.

Another knock and then the phone rings, both of them him.

Him, at the door, the lip pulled between his teeth quickly released as he drops the hand holding the phone up to his ear. “I'm sorry I didn’t come sooner, I needed to”—he swallows—“grow a pair.”

“Grow a pair?”

He shrugs, shoulder dropping just as fast as it was raised. “Couldn’t figure out if I should bring you flowers or be prepared to finally get that rejection.”

“So where are the flowers?”

He looks down at his hands and then back up, light catching his glasses and then his crooked smile. “None of them were good enough for you.”

“I’m not going to reject you,” you tell him, leaning against the door. “And I think that anything you brought me would’ve been good enough.”

“Well, I brought myself. How’s that?” His eyes squint a little on that, flicking up and down your body and not for the first time since you opened the door.

Which makes you realize that you’re still just standing there.

And it’s cold.

And he’s pretty.

And he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you; like he’s had this low simmering hunger growing in his belly for God knows how long. “Do you want to come in?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You're perfect,” you tell him, stepping aside to give room for his body to come through the door. “How was your flight? Have you eaten? Do you want—“ 

It didn’t really hit, at the dinner, how tall he was. You were just so excited to see him and to know that he was excited to see you, his height didn’t even register but he’s big. Big and leaning over you with his lips pressed softly against yours.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” he whispers when he pulls away. “I just needed to do it because I would’ve been too nervous otherwise.”

Everything feels almost on fire with how close he is, the heat in the house suddenly becoming too much. You wish he’d done that in the open door instead of waiting for it to close.

“I only just got your letter today,” you tell him, ignoring his nerves in some kind of ploy to ignore your own. “I didn’t have time to clean or shop, I don’t have anything to cook for you.”

That makes him laugh, lips stretching across your cheek to let the noise tumble out against you. “Gorgeous girl, let me take you out to dinner the way I’ve been imagining I’d get to all this time.” 

“You want to take me out?” Thank god you read the letter before you washed your face.

“Want to do a lot more than take you out to dinner.” He looks like he wants you to be his dinner. “But I’m trying to behave myself, I already know I’m coming off really strong.”

He’s not coming off strong at all, you’re just not really comprehending it. Not when he holds your hands so gently.

Not in the car, where he insists he’ll drive.

Not when he’s staring at you across the table.

It just makes sense and it’s fine. It’s good, actually. It’s comforting to sit beside him, his eyes roaming every inch that he can, and know that you don’t have to spill all your secrets because all the talking and the catching up you did all these months, through phone lines and fancy stationery, took care of that for you.

But it’s also still nerve shaking, the way he looks at you with so much reverence. It’s a respect that’s enduring even back inside your apartment, where he’s dropped his bags with an apology that he didn’t mean to be presumptuous but he also didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hands, completely unprepared, if it turned out it wasn’t presumptuous at all.

“This is weird,” you finally tell him, pulling as far back as you can from where he’s pinning you to the mattress.

“Too strong?” He’s set his glasses to the side, on the table by your bed next to your book and the letters. You’ve been beneath him for the better part of an hour, kissing like teenagers in the back of a car.

Your head shakes. “I’ve just never slept with a guy on the first date.”

Bob’s chest is heaving, smooth skin stretched over lean muscle and he runs a hand through his hair (which really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is but—holy shit) and smiles. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?” 

He said once, in one of the letters, how people look at him and assume things about him. He looks scrawny in his uniform, geeky in his glasses; he’s got a consistent haircut and a baby face that always makes him look like it’s school picture day.

To everybody else, Bob is green—inexperienced.

And he uses that to his advantage with his quiet demeanor and his big hands and his capability.

Robert Floyd is very capable at what he’s doing as he unhooks the bra stretched tight across your back.

“You have a lot of sex, do you?” You ask, pulling away from him again. 

His face is red, a blush that splashes out in random patterns across his face and chest, and he shrugs. “I’ve had my fair share,” he says, “the uniform does a majority of the work.”

“You're doing a lot of work right now.”

That makes a smile spread across his face. “A beautiful woman like you, everybody would be a fool not to put in work for you.”

“That's very sweet of you, Bob.” All that confidence you felt in the phone calls and the letters has long faded to make room for the heat running up your own cheeks. “Nobody’s ever really worked for me.” 

His smile falters. “Is that self deprecating, sweetheart?” He doesn’t like the self deprecating, he hasn’t liked learning all the ways you pulled in on yourself over the years.

The look he gives you is a weight in the pit of your stomach, warm and blooming but also cold like steel. You can feel yourself pulling in on yourself and away from him the way you’ve feared you would. “Just a fact,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off the way you’re trying to shrug beneath his hold. “It’s been a while for me, I don’t really…” Your head shakes. “I haven’t been with anybody since college.” 

“Really?” How anybody could suggest the man pulling away to sit up completely is inexperienced is beyond you. “I mean, if that’s what you wanted.”

It was but it isn’t like you didn’t have the chance. Which is what you tell him but what turned you off is how people reacted to it—just like him now. Separating himself with assurances that it’s okay. Of course it’s okay but it doesn’t make you less than or untouchable. 

“You act like my grown back virginity is contagious, Bob.” 

He huffs a laugh. “You can’t grow it back and, besides, it can’t have been that long ago. College was not that long ago.” 

As subtly as you can, you attempt to put your bra back into place while reminding him you’re both closer to thirty than not. “It’s been quite a few years.”

“Not even one?” 

Briefly, you consider asking him to go, to pick up his bags and come back tomorrow after you’ve both slept and showered. Instead, you say, “I lost my mind once or… you know, that’s what I call it. I downloaded one of those apps and swiped until something stuck.”

“Until something stuck?” He asks. He’s asking a lot, you’ve asked practically nothing. “What does that mean?”

“It means that”—you’ve given up on the bra, pulling it off and through your sleeve instead—“I swiped until I found a guy who looked kind of like the pictures my mom showed me from your mom’s Facebook and I…thought of you.”

His eyes don’t even follow the bra as you toss it to the side, breathing deep beneath his gaze as he puts it together with crimson brushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

A beat.

Maybe two.

He’s still staring you down but not saying much else and that weight drops again, like a strong man game at the carnival. It went up with the hit to ring the bell in the middle of your chest before it slammed back to start with the same force you gave it. “Say something, Bobby.” 

“I-uh—“ He clears his throat and runs his thumb along his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. “I visited once just to see if I’d maybe run into you and, you know, I did… kinda. You were with some guy and I”—he clears his throat again—“may or may not have jerked off so hard my dick hurt for two weeks straight about it.” 

Oh.

“What did the guy look like?”

“Well”—he leans forward, voice dropped low—“he kinda looked like me.” 

It’s amazing how black his eyes can be when it looks like he’s got a trick or five up his sleeve. Only he’s shirtless and doesn’t leave you waiting for long, body launching across the distance between you to push you over and down again.

And it’s not quite like a weight in your belly now so much as a weight on your belly, heat radiating through his rough palms as they sneak higher and higher up your torso. 

“I'm kind of scared to have sex with you,” he whispers against your lips, answering the question before you can even why, saying, “I'm afraid I won’t live up to your fantasies.”

“I'm afraid I won’t live up to yours.”

It’s not even a sentence he fully lets you finish, lips dragging across your jaw and hips pushing down against yours and the bunched up skirt. Bob Floyd is so not inexperienced.

He’s just subtle and private, even going so far as to close the bedroom door despite the fact that you live alone. This unassuming, private, quiet man who closes doors and says please and thank you as he’s asking for your shirt to go and pulling your tights down and off.

No bra, no shirts and no glances down your body because that would mean taking his lips off of you. But when he does dip low next to your ear to ask if he can look at you, it’s the easiest yes of your life. 

It’s not nervous, you don’t want to cover yourself back up. It feels as good to be looked at him as it feels to have him on you. And, again, you have no idea how anybody could ever see this man as inexperienced or—what did he say?—Baby on Board is so beyond you.

“You're still really dressed,” you tell him, poking the belt buckle that looks close to snapping with the tip of your big toe. “You should take this off.” 

His eyes fall to the space between your legs again and he smiles. “You're still wearing your skirt.” And the panties he didn’t take with the tights. “If we’re being completely fair here.”

“This is weird,” you say for the second time tonight. “We used to play in sandboxes together and now—“

“Now I’m trying to make good on my promise that kissing is what people who love each other do, sweetheart,” he says, hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband, “so ladies first on this one.”

Ladies first, another thing to add to all his manners. All his manners and the dirtiest mouth. Because you can hand it to his colleagues on one front—he does not look like a man who knows the word cunt and he certainly doesn’t look like he’s ever used it.

And it’s working but it’s not enough to combat the nerves. Especially when he lifts himself up enough again to undo his belt, it’s like your whole body tightens up again.

“We don’t have to, “ he says for what feels like the seventeenth time. “We can just snuggle”—he laughs and shrugs—“or I could fuck off.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off,” you tell him. “I very much would not be naked if I did.” 

Not even an hour ago, he was saying he didn’t want to be caught with his dick in his hands and now that’s exactly where it is. Dick in his hands, smile on his face. He’s beautiful.

“Can you even see me right now?” You ask him, grasping for something to cover the nerves.

He affirms that he can as he pushes himself back down against you, mouthing opening against yours and every muscle in your body tensing up beneath him. It’s some combination of nerves for how much you like him and nerves over how long it’s been.

It always hurt before and you know it’s not supposed to but it hurts now, too. He hurts but you tell him it doesn’t after you try your best for some air in the space between your bodies—your lips. It’ll get better, you promise him that it will and that you’re just nervous every time. 

Really, it should. It does. Performance anxiety or not, it’s easy to relax around his presence and his gentle hands and the soft press of his lips as he gives into the way you grab at him.

Grasp at him, pull at him.

All of him and any little bit of him. There’s so much time and so many feelings to make up for. So many songs he could’ve broken your heart to already every time he had to say goodbye. 

“What are these?” He asks, the drag of his knuckles against the heat of your face. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Baby.” All his worry in one word as he pulls away and out to sit up and pull you with him. 

“Am I bleeding?” You ask, afraid to look down but aware of what every other experience has held thus far and exactly what the partner at the time sounded like when they pointed it out.

It makes you want to run when he looks down and nods. “I did hurt you.”

Your head shakes and he pulls you even closer, large hands grabbing to hold on as you’re shaking and cold until you’re close enough for just little whispered words. So quiet and warm as he tells you over and over again that it’s okay.

Of course it is, it’s Bob. The one who makes sense—who’s always made sense.

You tell him it happens sometimes—it happens every time—but that doesn’t seem to calm the guilt he’s feeling. 

“You want me to kiss it better?” He asks, voice somehow even lower like you’re not the only two people in the apartment. 

“I don’t want to.”

Bob brushes his fingertips along the swell of your cheek and asks, “do you really not want to or are you afraid that I’m afraid of a little blood?”

“Both,” you tell him, fairly certain the smile across your face is the reason he even asked that question to begin with. “It was a long day before I got your letter, I think that maybe I-I need sleep and”—you laugh—“maybe a fucking muscle relaxer or a Xanax. I hate to think I’ve made you feel unattractive o-or not good.”

“You didn’t,” he confirms and his hair is so messy with how many times you’ve run your fingers through it. “I could’ve been slower—“

“It wasn’t fast.”

“Still,” he says before offering to change the sheets. “Tell me where they are and you can go shower, I’ll join you in there.”

Parting leaves you pacing again, back and forth in the bathroom. Only, this time, you’re naked and ignoring the ache between your legs as you wash the make up off instead of fixing what was there over and over again.

In the reflection, you watch as he strips the bed. It may have been years but so many nights have ended like this but only for you. And it was usually tear soaked and lonely as you stripped the bed yourself and made it back up again. 

Now, though, he’s here. He’s stayed here instead of leaving, whether by your own insistence or his—he didn’t leave.

His smile is the kind you could get used to, the comfort he has in this space around you already to be naked and open. This comes from all those letters and long, sleepless nights on your of the line, yeah. But it also comes from the childhood you spent together and the years that you didn’t.

In the shower, you pull him down and to your lips before he can even think about leaning over. The first one to kiss him this time, void of all nerves you’ve carried for hours up to just minutes ago.

He said it years ago, beneath the swings in your backyard. “This is what people who love each other do.” 

[flatassthrowaway]

Passionately and Deeply

I hope everyone's been doing okay in light of what's been happening. I have another chapter for you all, so I hope you enjoy. As usual, let me know what you think. This one is a little angsty, but mostly fluff. 18+ for suggestive content, MDNI.

~Masterlist~

~Chapter Seven~

Ford really is amazing.

He woke me up with a kiss, and breakfast in bed, along with a warm washcloth to wash my nether regions. He told me that he should have offered it to me our first night together, but I accepted nonetheless.

We’ve been doing this since the 9th, so… for four days straight.

We really wanted each other.

I also found that the towels all over the couch were from another surprise he was planning. He wanted to take me on nearly each object in the room. From the couch to the table to the dresser to the space in between the sinks in the bathroom… goodness.

I feel like he was almost making up for lost time. I didn’t mind though… I wanted it too.

As we ate in bed, completely nude and in each other’s company… I decided that I would tell him why I acted so weird when I first met him at the diner.

“This is gonna sound weird,” I told him.

Ford ate some french toast before swallowing it. “Try me,” he said. “I study weirdness, sweetheart.”

I chuckled. “I didn’t want to be indebted to you,” I told him.

“Why is that?”

“I always had this weird thing about needing to repay people’s kindnesses, so that I wouldn’t be indebted to them,” I told him. “I also kept track of the kind things I’ve done, and made sure that I’ve done more kind things so that my debt would be repaid, and it would stay that way.”

Ford sighed. “The stars above know that I haven’t been the kindest man,” he said. “I pushed away my brother, my family, my best friend… all for my ego. Ever since I came back into their lives, I found that I’ve been doing the same thing on occasion. Trying to repay the debt– reversing the cruelty I showed to them.”

I sighed. “Oh Ford, I had no idea…”

“You couldn’t have known, I never told you,” he said. “But if there’s anything that I’ve learned, it’s that the people who are worth it who also stick around don’t keep score.”

I nodded, looking down. His words made sense, but I didn’t absorb it well. “That makes sense.”

“You don’t need to keep score with me, sweetheart,” he told me, lifting my chin up with his index finger and thumb so I would look at him. “Your presence is worth more than some silly debt that doesn’t even exist. You know how fond of you I am, if last night was any indication.”

I smiled at him, fixating my gaze on his lips. “I do.” We both leaned in, kissing each other sweetly.

Ford hummed. “That syrup tastes so good on your lips~” he said before kissing me again.

I smiled against his lips. “It’s funny you should say that,” I said. “I was going to say the same thing about yours~”

We kept making out, softly chuckling, or giggling in my case, until we had a knock at the door. We parted, and I grabbed my robe. I got out of bed, wrapped it around me, and opened the door.

Stan was in the doorway. “Sweet Moses,” he said as I let him in. “I was beginning to think you and Sixer were dead in here. The family and I haven’t seen you two in forever, and neither of you cared to respond to our texts.”

Stan whistled as I closed the door. “You’ve really been busy, huh?”

“Stanley!” Stanford scolded as he covered himself up.

“Poindexter, we literally showered next to each other while we were on that boat,” he said.

“You looked?!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Shit, you didn’t tell her about our Stan-o’-War adventures, Ford? You oughta tell the lady!” Stan said. “And no, I didn’t look at your naked body. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“I’m so glad we retired the boat last year,” Ford said, covering his face with his hands.

“What adventures were you up to?” I asked the two of them.

“Oh, ya know. Treasure, and most importantly, babes,” Stan said with a wink. “Even Sixer got lucky a couple of times.”

“Oh, did you?” I asked turning to Ford as his blush grew deeper. “How were your partners?”

“They were fine,” he said, uncovering his face and running his hand through his hair.

“Come on, Ford! That’s not what you told me before!” Stan said. “Especially when ya hooked up with that Calvin guy!”

I looked at Ford. “Guy?” I asked curiously.

I guess he wasn’t making up for lost time. I guess he just really wanted me… which I’m very, very happy with.

“What? Ya jealous?” Stan asked.

I shook my head. “Why be jealous of his past partners when I’m the one who has him in the present?” I countered as a smirk grew on my face.

“Ha! I like her! I hope ya keep her, Poindexter,” Stan told his brother.

“But anyway-”

Ford cut Stan off. “Stan, there’s a time and a place, and this is not the time, nor the place,” he said.

“Au contraire, brother of mine! This is the perfect time!” Stan exclaimed. “We’re in your room without the kids here, and we’re not doin’ anything until the afternoon.”

I turned to Ford. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, Ford,” I told him.

“No… I do want to tell you, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m just not sure how you’re going to take it.”

“Don’t worry about that. You know how curious I am,” I told him. “If it gets to be too much, you can stop.”

Ford nodded. “Very well,” he said as he swallowed. “So I meet this gentleman who’s around the same age as Stanley and myself, and he’s rather charming. Dare I say, cute.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” I told him, but he just looked at me. “Oh, sorry, continue. Was he a true gentleman, though?”

I saw a slight blush come across Ford’s face. “He was. He also told me he had a speech impediment, but with the way he spoke, you wouldn’t have been able to tell,” he told me. “He was brilliant as well. What he knew as an astrophysicist blew my mind.”

Stan elbowed me. “He blew his mind in more than one way.” I smiled.

“Stan!” Ford cried, his blush deepening. “A-anywho, he starts flirting, thanks to Stanley’s tips I successfully flirted back. I followed him to his hotel room… and that’s how I found that I liked to have… Stanley, can you leave us?”

Stan had a massive smirk on his face. “No. Go on, Poindexter. Tell her what ya like. It’s important for your lovers to know what you like. And it’s not like you didn’t tell me about this, either.”

“It’s just… I would like to tell her… alone,” he said.

“Shit, don’t let me get in the way of getting your rocks off, Sixer,” he said as he made his way to the door. Before he left, Stan turned to me and called my name. “Just make sure he isn’t too fucked out. And make sure she can still walk, Ford.”

Stan slammed the door shut before Ford rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “If this story is making you jealous, I can stop. I know if you told me a similar story, I most likely would be.”

I shook my head before making my way back to the bed, sitting next to him. “I’m curious, honey,” I told him. “Don’t hold out on me now. I might find something that I can do for you.”

Ford nodded, looking away as a small blush spread across his face. “If you’re certain…” he said as I nodded. “So, once we did the deed… I found that I liked having my prostate stimulated.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh. That’s it?” I asked. That was pretty anticlimactic.

“You’re… you’re not turned off?” Ford asked.

I shook my head. “No… should I?” I asked.

“No! No,” he said. “I just thought… you wouldn’t like it, that’s all.”

I smiled as I placed my hand on his. “If you want me to stimulate your prostate, I’d be more than happy to do it for you,” I told him.

“So… you don’t mind the fact that I’ve been with a man? And another woman?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you care that I lost my virginity years ago to a guy I no longer speak with?” I asked.

Ford chuckled. “I see your point.”

“I don’t care, Ford,” I clarified. “Honestly… I’m glad you told me about how much you like your prostate stimulated.” I kissed along his jawline.

I heard his breath hitch. “Let’s save that for later tonight, sweetheart,” he said, grasping my chin with his index finger and thumb, and planted his lips on mine. He may not have been hungry, but I was.

“Still so hungry? Especially after the last few nights?” he asked.

“After all this time, I finally have you to myself to enjoy~” I told him as I kissed him again.

He moaned on my lips before parting. “What time is it?”

I looked for my phone. Once I found it, I saw that it was 11:15.

Of course Stan texted me that we were going out at 1 today for a picnic on the beach. He sent it a few days ago and I never saw it.

I set my phone down on my night stand, and went back to him. “We have an hour if we conserve resources~” I tempted him as I bit my lip.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I didn’t think my libido would be so high,” Ford said, resting his forehead against mine with his hands on my hips and smiling. “You really unlocked something in me, sweetheart.”

I giggled, staying in his lap while placing my hands on his chest. “I’d say the same, honey~” I told him. “That night when you called me a cheeky girl… oh goodness...”

I abruptly got out of his arms and lap and walked towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower, honey,” I told him.

“Would you like company?” Ford asked.

I gestured to him to follow me, and I heard him follow behind me as we showered together. Feeling the warm water on my skin, and just feeling his presence was a simple delight all on its own.

We got dressed, and I opted for a sleeveless pastel green sundress with an inner cucumber green chiffon shawl and black sandals. When I opened the door, Ford had a short sleeved red v neck shirt with his signature red sweater wrapped around his broad shoulders lazily with the same black pants and his signature boots on.

“Beautiful as always, sweetheart,” he told me, grabbing my hand and kissing it as I smiled.

“Thank you, handsome~” I told him as I kissed him on the cheek. It felt hot to my lips, and I saw that he was blushing once I separated myself from him.

I heard my phone go off. I went to grab it, and Stan had texted me twice.

Stan: Alright, 10 minute warnring! You better come down before we leave!

Stan: Damn it, I meant warning.

Me: We’re on our way, don’t leave

I turned my phone off and turned to Ford. “Come on, honey,” I told him. “Stan’s gonna leave without us.”

Ford came closer to me, smiling. “Okay,” he said. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against him while he gave me a kiss.

I laid my hands on his chest, sighing happily into the kisses he gave me. I pulled away, smiling, but Ford pulled me back into him. “One more~” he purred as we kissed one last time. Ford kissed my forehead before we left.

On our way down, we held hands in the elevator. Once the door opened, a family was waiting to get on, but Ford quickly took his hand back and began walking out.

I tried to recover as quickly as I could and tried to catch up with him. We eventually found the teens and Stan in the lobby, waiting for us.

“There ya are! Ya- uh, dollface?” Stan said. “Ya might want to have a look in the mirror. Look at your neck.”

I turned to look at the mirror in the lobby, and found that a burgundy round bruise was starting to form in the junction between my shoulder and my neck. I groaned before wrapping the chiffon shawl higher, around my shoulders. Even though that’s not how it’s supposed to be worn, it works.

I turned back to see Ford scratching the back of his head, and Stan laughing heartily. With the teenagers, all the girls were talking together, and Dipper was on his phone, typing away.

Perhaps he took my advice and is starting to focus more on Pacifica.

Mabel called out my name. “You’re finally better!” she said, getting up from her seat and giving me a hug. “That means I can give you your present!”

Mabel handed me a hunter green cloth elegantly wrapped in a white bow. I unraveled the bow, and it revealed that the hunter green cloth was actually a sweater, and it had a white lotus print on it. It was stunning.

“Wow, that one came out real pretty, pumpkin,” Stan commented.

“Oh, hon… this is so beautiful!” I told her as I broke out in a grateful smile. “Thank you so much!” I gave her a hug.

“I’m so glad you like it!” Mabel said.

I decided to try it on real quick, and it fit me perfectly… almost too perfectly.

Mabel is more intuitive than I thought.

“Aaaand I, too, have a present for your birthday,” Dipper said my name, giving me a small black box with a bow on it.

I unraveled the bow, and opened the box, which revealed a midnight blue, almost black velvet satchel. I opened the small satchel and saw that he had given me my own set of die for D, D & More D. They were black with gold on the edges, which added some elegance to them.

“What a thoughtful gift, my boy,” Ford commented.

“Oh Dipper… I love these! Thank you!” I told him as I also gave him a hug.

“Now you don’t always have to borrow them. These are yours for life,” Dipper said.

“That’s so sweet,” I told them. “Thank you… both of you.”

“Of course!” Mabel exclaimed, before giving a goofy side eye to Ford. “What did you get for her birthday, Grunkle Ford?”

“Well… this whole vacation,” he admitted.

“And you had us thinking that this was all planned months ago. Genius!” Dipper exclaimed.

Stan cleared his throat before scowling at his brother. “Don’t you mean it was our birthday gift to her?”

Ford nodded. “Right, yes. It was my and Stanley’s idea,” Ford said.

“Which I was very grateful to hear, so thank you honey,” I told him as I kissed Ford on the cheek. Dipper smiled and Mabel squealed.

“Hey, do I get a kiss on the cheek?” Stan asked comically.

“Sure,” I told him, giving him a quick peck before returning to Ford’s side.

“Alright family!” Stan announced. “Let’s go to the park!” 

Everyone cheered as we went to the park, which I came to find out was Cannon Beach City Park, nearby that same beach we went to a few days ago.

While we were in the RV, Tambry came up to me. “I just wanted to apologize to you,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow, caught completely off guard. “Apologize? For what?” I asked.

“You seemed to catch my cold. That’s why I apologized,” she told me, shifting around and wringing her hands.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear,” I told her. “I don’t think I caught it from you.”

Tambry gave me a half smile. “Well, if you say so…”

I smiled. “I know so. Don’t beat yourself up,” I told her.

She thanked me as she went back towards the front of the RV, with Wendy and Dipper.

“If only they knew,” Ford said in a dark lustful tone.

I looked at him to see his eyes were dark again, clouded over by lust.

I chuckled as cutely as I could. “If only they knew…”

We arrived at the park, and set up everything. Apparently, the kids took charge of gathering everything, so I definitely have them to thank.

There were multiple jams, breads, cheeses and premade sandwiches, as well as chips.

The tall evergreens surrounded us, and the overall lush background was ever so beautiful. It was as if Mother Earth was swaddling us with the rich verdant vegetation.

As we joked and conversed, my mind drifted back to when Ford quickly took his hand back when the elevator door opened. It was almost like… he was ashamed of me.

I’m sure that’s not the case, but I can’t help but feel that way. The more I thought about it, the more rotten my mood became, although I hope I didn’t express it much outwardly.

We ended up staying until sunset, which was when we decided to leave. On the drive back, I think Ford sensed something was wrong.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” He asked.

I shook my head. “Once we’re in our room I’ll tell you.”

Ford looked a little worried after that, but it soon faded as we both watched the sun disappear into the horizon.

Once we arrived at the hotel, we said our goodnights to the kids and Stan, and made our way up. I felt Ford reach for my hand, but I put both of my hands in front of me, holding each other. I didn’t bother to check his facial expression, and he put his hand back at his side.

The elevator door opened, and we got off on our floor. I swiped the key to our room, and let the both of us in. I faced Stanford as he called my name.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“I feel like I should be asking that,” I told him.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“You pulled your hand away when we exited the elevator earlier today,” I told him. “It was almost like… you were ashamed of me. Like you didn’t want that family to know we were together, even though they were strangers.”

“I… I didn’t realize…” Ford told me. “I thought you would have been ashamed for them to see us in that way, so that’s why I separated from you.”

“So why didn’t you let me make that decision, Ford?” I asked. “If I really felt that way, which I don’t, I would have done it myself.”

“I… I acted preemptively. I’m sorry…” he told me, saying my name.

“...Do you feel ashamed to be with me?” I asked, fearing his answer.

“No, sweetheart, no,” he told me almost immediately before wrapping his arms around me and trapping me in a bear hug that… admittedly felt really nice. “Of course not. I believed that you would feel ashamed, but… now I know that I shouldn’t assume things like this.”

“Okay… I believe you,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry, Ford.”

“No… I’m sorry, my sweet,” he said. “You’re an independent person. I shouldn’t be making decisions like that for you.”

“Well, while we’re on that topic,” I told him. “I don’t have any living family, so… would you like to be my healthcare proxy, should something happen?”

Ford held me tighter. “Don’t say that!” he said my name.

I hugged him tighter too. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, but… life can be unexpected,” I told him. “And I know it's a little random to ask this so suddenly, but... will you?”

Ford nodded. “Of course. So long as you will do the same for me.”

“Absolutely.”

We parted, and we got ready for bed. Ford finished before I did, and climbed into bed. Once I was done, I climbed into bed, and on top of him. His arms languidly glided around me, and I rested my hands on his chest.

Ford gave me a smile, which I reciprocated as we shared a sweet yet soft kiss before I laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His steady, slow rhythm lulled me into a deep sleep almost instantaneously as I felt the warmth and the love that this sweet man held for me.

💚💚💚

Thanks for reading~

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

I hope Tommys able to regain his love of content creation someday. Not even bc I like his content I haven’t watched it in a lonnnnnng while, but because I Know what it’s like to lose love for stuff bc of weirdo adults ruining it for you and it SUCKS. It’s not fun! It doesn’t feel like moving on it feels like having things you love ripped from you and smashed into itty bitty pieces. It’s what happened with the Nova AU, actually! I haven’t talked about what happened there much, and this is probably a bit of a heavier read than usual, so sorry about that, but it’s important to me. Discussions of grooming and sexual exploitation below- NOT that I’m saying the same happened to TommyInnit, it’s about what happened to ME.

The Nova AU comes from concepts that existed since I was very little, but the last time I was super into it was when I was fourteen. I’d gotten super into Sonic again and a lot of the major concepts that'd become integral to the AU- Sonic's injury, Nova's experimentation with roboticisation, the themes of how child abuse even if done in different ways can have the same effects, even the fact it’s Metonic at all- were stuff I’d developed hanging out with friends.

It was also in those areas where I was pressured into sexual conversation, had people joke about masturbating to (entirely innocent) images of my, again, fourteen year old self (and I looked a LOT younger than fourteen), and during a game of truth and dare I was pressured into looking at Sonic pornography and describing my sexual fantasies and masturbation to a group of adults. I openly had a crush on Metal Sonic at the time, being a teenage furry, so it seemed like a funny joke, but it always made me feel really weird inside. I didn’t like looking for that stuff, it wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I made sex jokes, sure, but I was fourteen. I thought they were funny because I was a teenager. I didn’t think about this sort of stuff or wanted to do it. I found it kinda disgusting, actually, to think about in such a way. It was uncomfortable and it really stuck with me, and drained a lot of my love for that AU. It felt weird and tainted. It made me think of that stuff I didn’t like. I have the images burned in my brain, the exact ones I sent to get them to shut up about it. I couldn’t forget it if I tried. That, along with everything else, made me feel repulsed from ever exploring it in depth for several years. It broke my love of something that was a huge drive of my creativity.

And not exploring that? It didn’t make me happy, or make me feel relieved. I felt trapped. I had something I loved a lot, that was a very important part of my history in creating art and writing, no matter how silly or weird it might seem, but I had images and words burned into my head that made it hard to think about. Elements of it are absolutely visible in everything I’ve create, salvaged and repurposed, but I didn’t want to salvage it. I wanted to be able to get excited and draw and make up elaborate timelines. But I just. Couldn’t.

It’s been seven years since I was fourteen now. And I’ve finally been able to go back to my silly Sonic AU. And do you know what? Out of all the things I’ve done at twenty one, being able to do that has been one of the most joyful, freeing things. I’m able to explore the stuff I loved so much and that made me feel so inspired without thinking about being exploited and hurt anymore. I’ve been so enthusiastic about this AU for a reason- it’s not just something I’ve had for ages, but it’s something that was ruined to me up until it wasn’t. And that’s the most wonderful feeling, y’know? Being able to recover stuff and make it yours again.

Obviously, we have no evidence that what happened to Tommy was anywhere even close to that, and I don’t want it to seem like I am. Even far less serious stuff can ruin things for you for a long time. But I know how utterly agonising it is for things you love to be tainted by asshole adults as a kid, and how painful it is to have the pieces of something you once loved but being unable to fix it from a final painful memory. It’s awful. No one deserves that. The way he talked about content creation reminded me a lot of myself, but I have recently been able to return to what once was tainted to me, and it’s made me giddy with joy. I hope everyone who experienced that might do the same someday

[leesmustardgarden]

Meet-cute Through a Window (Though it Shouldn’t be Possible)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of plague, a bit of swearing (couldn’t help myself, really), good ol puppet fear, I love P so much he’s so everything to me

P x (gn) reader

In the ruins of an ever rotting city, love is the last thing you’d expect to find. Rubble cannot foster the gentleness love necessitates, nor can it pretend to. In the ticking heart of a special puppet, filled with oil and ergo ever pulsing, love finds a way to fester. Pinocchio proves to be an exception to many things, and in loving you he has become an exception to the very notion that love cannot find purchase on the ledge of a burning society.

You meet through a window tucked away in the far corners of Krat, one you’d thought to be hidden from the puppet frenzy. It had been your honest mistake; a moment of forgetfulness wherein you peaked through the curtains and found yourself under his curious blue eyes. Crystalline and shining, they shocked you frozen to the spot. Any initial noise you might have let out dies with a weak flutter in your throat and you beg internally for this person to be a person and not a puppet.

A small whirr fills the air in the next second and your heart drops into your stomach. His expression is unchanging even in the face of your panic, but his shoulders sag (—holy shit is that a sword on his back?) in something like surrender and he tilts his head.

If you didn’t know any better, he might have just looked like a curious, yet apathetic boy peering at you through your window. With the sword on his back and the gentle whirr that rings in the silence, it’s hard not to know better. Never mind whatever the fuck is on his metal arm, you’re just ignoring that for the time being or you’re sure to go mental.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispers at the same time you say, “Please don’t kill me.”

If he’s surprised or hurt by what you say, he doesn’t (or probably can’t) show it. The words are muffled through the glass, but you’ve trained your ears to hear through the small opening at the bottom. He holds both palms open and says nothing else.

You… want to trust him, really. More than just the fact that his eyes are so pretty they shine like a fantastic lake straight out of a story book; or that his freckles paint him like an old, long dead painter might have painted the stars. You want to trust him in the open and gentle way he seems to offer up his hands and promise you more than what the rest of Krat has since the frenzy.

In the rubble of a burning city crashing in on itself, there is not a speck of gentleness to be spared. This— puppet has it in spades, and it draws you out of your panic just enough to pull the window open bit by bit. You do not break his gaze for a moment as you tug it up and open, and he is patient enough not to be the first to do so. Instead, he stretches a hand out to you and waits for your warm skin to meet the cold smooth synthetic surface of his own non-legion hand.

It would be just your luck if somehow puppets learned how to lie, too, but something tells you he means it wholly and honestly when he insists he will not hurt you. The whirring picks up gently, almost imperceptibly quicker, but you don’t pay it any mind. The edges of your instincts are sharp with distrust, but you lay your hand and life in the hands of this puppet and find yourself minding it less and less with each second.

A loaded pause passes— you stare down at your hands barely touching and he watches you with that same, frozen expression. You thickly swallow before you wrap your fingers around his hand and look up right into those beautiful blues.

“Would you… like to come in?”

Now, you don’t have much experience in how to fuel (feed?) an automaton; wasn’t your job before the frenzy and certainly hasn’t become since, but you could learn. It’s a silly thought to have, but you haven’t had a guest in god knows how long and a sharing a cup of tea sounds lovely (if puppets could even have tea). And — sure, maybe openly inviting the literal enemy of every human being in Krat into your house isn’t the smartest thing to do, but you can’t help it. More than just his pretty face, his gentle hand caresses yours so softly and the nod he gives is so warm that in the loneliness of having been the last sentient thing in the area, you couldn’t help but falter.

The world around you tastes of ash and rubble, but you meet someone who seems to bring about a breath of fresh air. His eyes are bright like ergo, and his hair fluffs like a black cloud. When he nods ever softly, something whirrs and clicks in the air. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you don’t know if it’s really out of fear anymore.

Your world ended in a frenzied flurry of plague and massacre; it started again when you peaked through your window and met him.

[shedoessoshedoes]

So Close

Inspired entirely by the movie Enchanted and the 2015 adaptation of Cinderella, I give you *drumroll please* PINING ELRIEL DANCING (yayyyyyyy) hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you do 😘

wc: 1165

tw: none

“Thank you all for your presence here tonight,” Helion announces to the crowd. “It is my privilege to share the joy of my newfound family with you.” He glances over to Lucien and the former Lady of Autumn, now High Lady of Day. “Love truly comes from the strangest of places. In honor of our story, Andromeda and I invite you to dance this final waltz with a partner you did not come with tonight. Those we are bound to are not always those we are meant to be with. Seek out a different kind of love, whether that be a romance or a friendship, as we partake in the dance of the sun.” 

Elain doesn’t know what to do with herself. She had come tonight with Lucien, as a favor to Rhys and Feyre (“Please, Elain,” Feyre had begged. “Just to show everyone that you’re trying.”) (Nevermind that Elain did not want to try with Lucien. Nevermind that perhaps Elain loved someone else.), and had spent most of the night on his arm. Helion’s speech had described her story a little too perfectly. She, too, was seen as belonging to a male she did not love. She, too, had found love outside of that binding. She, too, could not act on how she felt. She, too, had spent too much time wondering if perhaps the male she wanted to be hers felt the same way. But nevermind all of that, too. It wasn’t like she was in any position to ask Azriel to dance. 

She watches as Rhys bows to Nesta, still in the process of paying his penance for all the years of judgment and hate. Cassian sweeps Feyre off her feet in a twirl, and she tosses her head back and laughs. It’s a typical scene: no one would think to wonder whether silly old Elain would have anyone to dance with. She melts slowly back against the wall, but then–there he is. 

Looking every inch the dark, tortured soul he is, Azriel simply inclines his head to her. Elain’s breath catches in her throat. He is so beautiful. She loves him so much. They haven’t spoken since the Solstice. “A dance, Lady Elain?” 

Elain can do nothing but nod silently and slip her hand into his as he leads her to the center of the room. Sparks shoot up her arm from where their bodies touch. They settle into position, and the dance begins. 

—-

She looks stunning. In a cobalt blue gown, she might as well just declared herself as his, even if she stepped into the room on the arm of Lucien Vanserra. Azriel cannot breathe if he looks at her for too long. But the combination of the dress, and Helion’s speech, and six months of agony have Azriel losing control of himself. Besides, he couldn’t leave her standing alone during the last dance of the ball, could he? He can explain it away to Rhys, can claim that he asked her to dance with the intentions of a brother. Though his thoughts about her are anything but fraternal. 

This dance is simple. They both know it by heart. Azriel slides one hand around her waist, pulling her as close as the skirts of her dress will allow (which is not nearly close enough), and suddenly all the world is gone. 

They sway back and forth, and then Elain’s wrist comes to rest against his, and fuck, but that one simple touch has him nearly undone. “Elain,” he breathes out, and she takes an unsteady breath. Perhaps, five hundred years of life have required Azriel’s more romantic dreams to die. Perhaps he said goodbye to them far too quickly, because every dream that he ever could have had is here, in front of him, wrapped up in the package that is Elain Archeron. 

“They’re all looking at you,” she whispers. “You never dance.” This is true, mostly. The last time he danced was with Nesta in the Hewn City, and while that had been enjoyable, it hadn’t exactly been a choice. And it’s not like the Day Court citizens frequent Velaris’s Starfall celebrations where they could have seen him dance with his family. 

“Believe me,” he murmurs back, just loud enough for her to hear. “They’re all looking at you.” 

They twirl out for their first promenade, Elain’s hands resting on his arm, and he spins her around before pulling her back into a proper waltzing position–the closest they’ve been so far tonight. The closest they’ve been since Rhys’s godsdamn order. Elain’s heartbeat stutters, and Azriel wants to put his mouth on her pulse. Her entire neck and shoulders are visible in her gown, and it is entirely too distracting. 

He twirls her out and around him, and she laughs, and he would crawl over glass to hear that sound again. When he pulls her back in, her back is to his front, his hand covering hers on her hip. She leans back into him just slightly, and its his breath catching this time. When she spins around to face him, he can almost believe that this isn’t pretend. Can almost believe that this stunning female is actually his. The circle they’re clearing for their dance is larger now, other couples stopping to watch them. Az catches sight of Nesta with a small knowing smile on her face. 

This time, when he twirls her, he decides to show off, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up off the ground. Elain’s smile is so bright it could replace the Day Court sun, and Azriel can see Rhys and Lucien glaring at him from two sides of the ballroom. He doesn’t care. He does it again, lifts her higher, and when Elain comes back down, her lips are far too close to his. He dips her to finish the dance, and the room erupts into applause. Elain looks around, startled, and blushes. Azriel pulls her back upright and whispers quickly into her ear. “I’ve never been so sorry for anything in my life. Let me explain it to you? Later tonight?” Then he’s pulling back before he can second-guess this massive risk he’s taking, and Elain gives him a tiny nod as Lucien returns to his mate’s side. 

“Lovely dancing Elain, Shadowsinger,” he says, and Azriel can feel a fight brewing in his bones. So he does nothing but incline his head to Lucien, bow to Elain, and step away. He’s sure he’ll have a shitstorm coming his way from Rhys, but right now, he can’t find it in himself to care. He sends a shadow over to Elain and watches it whisper into her ear. Her eyes tell him she understands. 

Later that night, he’s waiting, standing by the window of his room, wings folded in tight, a glass of whisky in his hand. The sound comes right when he thought that it would. Footsteps, and then a single knock. Elain. He takes a breath, whispers a prayer to the Mother. And goes to open the door.  

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

Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

[smoshsfavoritepizzaplace]

TBH the Shourtney hard launch didn't spark any "this is an april fool's joke!!" bells in my head cause Courtney genuinely looked so beautiful in the pictures I like, actually teared up looking at them. Shayne looked very handsome as well! That chocolatey brown looks so good on him! But Court just looked SO beautiful it pulled at my heartstrings and I felt as though I had no choice but to believe it simply because of how radiant she looked. I love seeing pictures of femme presenting people and women on their wedding days!!!! It always makes me tear up!!!!!

But antways, it didn't even register to me that the Smosh Mouth episode that day would be about the Shourtney marriage until I saw Angela fade in cause at the time, I remember Shayne being cast as Booster Gold rumors were circling around the internet so I genuinely thought the episode would be announcing that he was Booster Gold and that he'd be away for a while. IDK if anyone else remembers those rumors but the talk on the internet at the time was that people wanted either Glenn Powell or Shayne to play him and there was a Marvel fan account that said Shayne was officially cast, but those rumors completely died out after the Shourtney hard launch lol.

I also saw someone clock that that episode of the podcast was filmed in the same day as the staring contest livestream which is so funny to me. Smosh history was made on that day...

When those photos dropped I completely forgot what day it was. Even if I did remember it was April fools day, I think I still would’ve believed it in a heartbeat. I swear I didn’t even take that into account until I seen people start saying it could be a prank, but I was still not giving up the idea of them being married. It also could be bc I literally woke up 3 minutes before I found out so it could’ve been the sleepiness that made me believe so quickly. I would love to explain my entire thought process/reaction to the big day but I don’t want this post to be too long so if you’re still curious, you can send me an ask bc it will probably be a lengthy text lol. But anyway, that day is probably the most important day in smosh history and I’m not even trying to be biased. I mean, people who didn’t even know who they are were so invested into if it was real or not… if that doesn’t say something, idk what does 🤷‍♀️. And yea, I remember the booster gold rumors. Did they ever come out with whoever was cast with that? I don’t watch marvel/superhero movies so I haven’t heard of it since the speculation. Also, it was filmed the same day as the staring contest? They must’ve been in such a silly mood that day to record both “pranks” lmao 😂

[seokgyuu]

Hello mitch!

I'm one of you silent readers, but today I wanted to request something can we please get a seokmin angst like angsty angst? feeling a bit emo right now lol.

I would love to see your writing that genre more prominently.

It's upto you if you want to make a happy ending or.... End our lives.

I really just want to see some angst *evil laughter*

I hope you accept my request, thank you! 🩷

All my love,

Max ❤

hi max! finally got to your request!! thank you so much for sending this in, i love writing angst and i hope this is to your liking! <;3

PAIRING: Seokmin x Reader

GENRE: Lovers to Strangers, angst, blink and you might see a bit of past fluff

SYNOPSIS: You always thought Seokmin was your forever.

WARNINGS: very angsty, like very, no happy ending, no pronouns used for reader, but there is mention of them wearing a dress

WORDCOUNT: 1.2k

A/N: if you want to feel what i felt reading this play Lewis Capaldi's Wish you the best in the background. Works wonders for the tears.

Falling in love with Lee Seokmin had been the easiest thing you had ever done. It came so naturally to you as if it had always been meant for you to someday find him and love him. He was your sun, your moon, your best friend. The second you two met, you knew he was the one. 

And luckily enough he felt the same way about you. He loved every single thing about you; the way you eyes sparkled when you laughed, the way you sometimes talked in your sleep, how you looked when you concentrated on your newest art project. To him, loving you came just as easily. 

Your earlier friendship turned into more and eventually you moved in together, everything falling into place perfectly. Weekly visits with your parents, grabbing dinner in the rain and running home without an umbrella, dancing in front of the fridge like a silly Taylor Swift song. 

He was your person. He was your forever. 

Your favorite memory of him and you was when he told you he loved you the first time. It was at the ocean, after he had been upset at his mum, just taking you by the hand and dragging you into the car, the tears so close to falling. He didn’t talk much and neither did you. Instead you held his hand, caressed his skin. He drove as long as he needed until you finally reached the sea and together you ran into the cold water, Seokmin finally breaking into tears, your arms around his neck and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. You held him up, in reality as well as metaphorically. 

When you sat in the sand after, both of you freezing because of course there weren’t any towels in the car, he stared at the sky, his fingers intertwined with yours.

And then he had turned to you and he had kissed you, had thanked you for being there. You had told him that, of course you were, you would always be there. The smile he had given you had made your heart melt. He said it then, said that he loved you and you couldn’t help but cry because this man was yours and you were his and he was your forever. 

Your least favorite memory of him and you was when you came home after a long day of work at the gallery and you found him sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of whiskey in front of him. 

Your least favorite memory of him was when he told you he wanted to leave. 

Your least favorite memory was the suitcase that was already packed. 

*

You know that going to Seungkwan’s wedding is a mistake, but you still do it. You stand in front of the hotel with the gift in your hand and your insides tell you to turn around and leave. 

He will be here. He probably already is inside there. You haven’t seen him in almost a year, not since you two talked it out. Decided to be friends. You never talked to him after that. And he never reached out either. 

Somehow your feet begin carrying you inside, your heart that is poorly glued together hurts in your chest. You see the sign leading to the wedding and you see a few familiar faces. You smile at some of them and try to ignore the growing shame inside of you when you see their pitiful faces. They all know that he left you. That you loved him more than he loved you. 

The wedding hall is decorated nicely and you put your present on the designated table, letting your eyes wander around afterward. Even though you don’t want to, you find yourself looking for him. How would he look? Would he wear that suit he always wore to weddings? Or had he gotten a new one? Your fingers play with the long sleeves of your dress as you begin to walk. You reach the free bar and grab a glass of champagne, bringing it to your lips to take a sip. Just then, when the sweet liquid runs down your throat, you spot him. 

He is wearing the same suit. Your eyes go blurry. 

When he spots you it’s like the world stops. 10 months, 3 weeks and 4 days since you’ve last seen him. And now he walks over to you, seems almost breathless when he reaches you. You feel his hand around your wrist as he smiles.

“You’re here,” he says and you nod, your eyes drawn to him and only him. The mole on his face, his dark brown hair styled up, his warm gaze so full of something you never thought you would see again. But here it is, here he is. The man you love so much, who not even once has left your heart. 

“Y/N…,” Seokmin lifts his other hand, hesitating before he places it on your cheek. His touch feels so familiar, makes you shiver, makes tears well up. Oh, how much you had missed his touch. Missed him. All of him. Always.

“Seokmin, I-,” but he stops you, pulling you into his chest, the glass of champagne falling to the floor.

“I missed you, I am so sorry, I love you, please forgive me,” he whispers into your hair and you feel his tears hit you, mix with yours. You let your arms rest on his back.

“You know I always will. I’ll always forgive you, Seokmin.”

Your eyes focus again. It’s the same suit as back then. He has his one hand around a champagne glass, the other rests on the lower back of the girl you know he’s been dating. No one has directly told you. But you knew he had someone new when he had asked to meet up 10 months, 3 weeks and 4 days ago. 

You watch how he laughs at something she says and presses a kiss to her cheek. You watch how the love of your life is nothing to you anymore but a distant memory of a time where you thought you were the luckiest person in the world. The poorly glued together heart is slowly falling apart again, you feel how pieces of it fall onto the floor in front of you. You hear how it breaks. 

The champagne glass shatters. But not because Seokmin hugs you and asks for your forgiveness. It shatters because he never will. 

Now, he notices you. Everyone does. The sound of glass breaking isn’t quiet after all, not even in a setting like this. A waiter appears and begins picking up the pieces of your heart. You don’t even notice it, too focused on Seokmin who seems more than surprised to see you. The mole, the hair, the eyes. It’s all the same. He doesn’t move, instead he says something to the girl he is still holding close. 

Part of you wants to wish him the best and maybe part of you does. But right now you want to scream at him. How he should have never left you, how he broke your heart with no care at all. You want to slap him, tell him all the things you never did. Was it your fault? Him leaving you that night? You didn’t fight, you didn’t stop him. You just let him leave. 

Nothing matters anymore. Blaming yourself will get you nowhere. You finally avert your eyes and thank the waiter, accepting the new glass he now hands you. The party goes back to before. 

You know you never will. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Someone Like You - Jubal Valentine x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @trublu2u @greenies-green @proceduralpassion @burningpeachpuppy @evee87 @delightfulheroshoeflap @iworldlywriter @helsinkibaby @penguin876

Jubal has heard the rumours about you and Spencer Briggs, the FBI profiler with a speciality in bomb makers. He hoped it wasn’t true, he’d worked with Briggs in the past and found him extremely challenging to be around.

Unfortunately, the reality of your relationship hits him in the face when he sees the two of you outside of a restaurant a couple of blocks away from his gym. It’s you that he notices first, he would know your laugh anywhere and when he hears it, he seeks out the source with a smile on his face because he enjoys spending time with you, in work and out of it. You’re wearing a yellow wraparound dress with pretty blue flowers embroidered into the fabric, one he’s never seen before. It’s only a second later that he realises that you’re with someone. He sees Briggs open the door of the restaurant, his hand on your lower back as he guides you inside and he hates it.

He spends the night tossing and turning, going over the event in his head. He knows he has no claim to you but still seeing you with Briggs, it cuts him deep.

He puts some distance between the two of you after that, it’s an act of self-preservation he tells himself, but he knows part of it is about punishing you. You’re moving on, carving out a life without him and he’s left behind watching it happen. He’d always had this notion, this stupid, silly idea what the two of you would get your shit together at some point, start something. He’s been fooling himself, holding onto something that wasn’t there. He sees that now.

It comes to a head one evening in his office. He’s submitting the monthly stats for Isobel to look over, a job he loathes because data entry is not his strong suit, and he gets bored with it very quicky. He doesn’t hear you come in, not until you set a takeout cup of coffee down in front of him. It’s from that place down the block that he likes, the one with the ethical coffee beans.

When he tilts his head to look up at you, he forgets about everything else, just for a moment. All he sees is that smile, the one that makes feel like he’s watching the sunrise for the very first time in his life.

“Thank you.” He says softly, raising it to his lips and taking a sip. It’s perfect as always. Rich and strong, a caramel shot because when it comes to working out the figures, he needs an extra hit of sugar to get him through.

You sit down in the chair across from him and he finds himself watching you. It’s been a while since the two of you have been alone in the same room together and he knows that’s on him.

“I feel like we haven’t seen much of each other recently.” You tell him as you settle back into the visitor’s chair. “I miss you.”

One of the things he loves about you is the fact your forthright, you aren’t afraid to be real with him. Part of working the program is about self-reflection and he can admit to himself that he’s felt your absence in his life acutely over the past couple of weeks. The jokes, the looks, the little moments the two of you share when no one else is around. It feels like he’s been living a perpetually cloudy day ever since he saw you at that restaurant.

“I miss you too.” He finds himself saying.

“I feel like things have been a bit weird between the two of us lately.” You tell him, gesturing between the both of you. “I’m sorry if I did something…”

“No.” He cuts you off with the swipe of his hand. “You didn’t do anything. It’s me, I…”

He trails off before shaking his head. This relationship between the two of you has always functioned on honesty and he owes it to you to be upfront because it’s not your fault, it’s his. He can’t help his feelings, but he can stop taking them out on you. At the end of the day, he just wants you to be happy, you deserve that more than anyone.

“I found out about you and Briggs and it short circuited something in my brain.” He says, tapping at his temple with his forefinger.

“There is no me and Briggs.” You inform Jubal. “We went on one date and decided to call it quits before dessert arrived.”

Jubal leans forward, his elbows coming to rest upon the desk.

“He profiled you, didn’t he?” Jubal questions.

“Yes, he did.” You tell him, cradling your coffee cup to your chest. “It’s humiliating to hear yourself reduced to a series of statements.”

You don’t tell him the specifics, but Jubal thinks he knows. He remembers the language Briggs used when he profiled Dana, how impersonal it was. It was as if he stripped away the humanity of the person, describing a series of neurosis without knowing the cause or the empathising with their history.

“You deserve a lot better than that.” Jubal tells you, his thumb tracing along the plastic lid. “You deserve someone who cares about you, who understands you, who doesn’t make you feel shitty about yourself.”

“Someone like you?” You ask him softly.

Jubal meets your gaze as he raises his coffee cup to lips.

“Yea,” He says quietly. “You deserve someone like me.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[jacksfandomrandom]

Body problems

Summary: Charlie has the perfect date in mind. Unfortunately while Vaggie is getting ready, she gets self-conscious of her body. Luckily, her girlfriend is there to assure she's okay.

Tw: slight implication of an eating disorder and implied sexual content (nothing graphic or smut)

“Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie, Vaggie!” Charlie ran into the mini library where Vaggie was reading a book. This day was one of the only day’s that they had free time and weren’t doing any activities to help redeem sinners.

“Huh, What?” She looked up, a little surprised. 

“I just had the best idea!” She prompted. “You know how we haven’t been on a date in like 8 months?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to take you out!” she said. This was the best idea ever. Both of them needed a break from everyone, even though they slept in the same bed and were near each other almost all the time, they needed a date night. They haven’t had one in so long. It would be fun!

“I don’t know, Charlie… what if the hotel gets attacked while we’re gone?” 

“Alastor will take care of it. You don’t gotta protect everyone, silly,” Charlie ruffled her girlfriend’s hair.

“I guess it has been a while since we went on a date… alright, lets do it!” Vaggie shut her books and got up from her seat.

“Wait, wait, what we’re doing is a surprise. You go get ready while I prepare the date,” Charlie kissed her cheek.

“But don’t you need to get ready too?” Vaggie asked.

“Babe, you know I slay in a tux, no matter the occasion,” Charlie said confidently. Vaggie chuckled at the pure cinnamon roll of her girlfriend.

“Well, maybe not in bed,” whispered Vaggie in a seductive voice. She inched closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked into Charlies eyes, swooning in her own head. Charlie moved closer too as Vaggie tried to stand up tall. Their lips connected and vaggie put both hands on Charlies cheek’s. Charlie put her hands on Vaggie’s waist. They pulled apartbut only about an inch before passionately colliding their mouths together. 

“Wait, wait, you have to get ready,” Charlie pulled apart. Vaggie whined slightly but knew that they didn't have time for this right now. 

Charlie knew exactly what she was planning. She was going to take Vaggie on a perfect, picnic date on a hill behind the hotel. It was also a perfect day. Luckily the sun would start setting in about two hours, so the two of them could watch the sunset together and get all snuggly and share their feelings and swoon over each other.

As Charlie was setting up the picnic basket in the hill in the back, Vaggie was quietly freaking out over what to wear. She wanted to be perfect. But her body wasn't perfect. She was flat. Not skinny. Her nose was so long, she looked like a witch. And her arms and hands were covered in battle scars. She was a bit muscle-y but had a bit of meat on her bones. At least that's what she thought. She found that she had gained weight from the past couple of months. It really hurt her and she constantly tried not to cry every time she looked at the scale. It made her feel worthless and ugly. Her nose was so masculine but also looked like an ugly witch nose.

Vaggie looked through her closet, trying to find something that'll cover her up a little more. Maybe that was why Charlie hadn't taken her on a date in a while. She was disgusting for letting herself go. So she grabbed a white short-sleeve dress shirt and black sweater vest and put it on. It covered her up a little bit. She put on a black and red plaid skirt and finally rolled on her gloves. She looked a tiny bit better. Her stomach didn't show like it did with her crop top polo shirt.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a while, thinking ‘why can't I just be perfect?’ She couldn't start crying though, Charlie was probably waiting for her. 

“You almost ready? You've been in there a while,” Just on cue, Charle knocked on the door.

“Yeah, I'll be right out,” Vaggie called back. She sighed, looking at herself one last time before trotting over to the door and opening it. 

Charlie stared at her, blushing  behind the red circles on her cheeks. She thought Vaggie looked absolutely stunning. However, Vaggie thought she was staring because she noticed how imperfect her body was.

“You look…Amazing!” Charlie complimented. 

“You… you don't have to lie, Charlie,” Vaggie mumbled. Charlie sensed immediately that something was wrong through her defeated look and mumbling.

“I'm not lying, though,” She doubled downed.

“But I look so… ugly, my nose is weird and I've been gaining weight…” she tugged at her other arm with her hand.

“No, sweetie, you're not ugly,” Charlie took her hand and cupped it with both of hers. She looked Vaggie in the eyes. 

“Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my hundred years in hell. You are amazing, and shit, I don't even care about what you look like, I love you no matter what,” She promised.

Vaggie’s eyes watered and her lips quivered. She ran into Charlies chest and hugged her. She needed comfort from her biggest supporter. The whole day she had been feeling unworthy of food and love. She thought she didn't deserve it with her disgusting ass self. Now she just felt emotional. All of the icky feelings she had over the couple of weeks came out in tears and sobs.

“There, there, babe. It's okay, we all become our biggest enemy at times,” Charlie told her. She wanted her girlfriend to feel loved.

“I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that you were so self-conscious. I promise that I'll constantly comfort you whenever your mean thoughts get into your head. But you have to promise me one thing,” Charlie said. She pulled away a little and put her hands on her shoulders.

“What's that?” Vaggie sniffled.

“That you come to me whenever you're feeling like you're hideous or disgusting. Please, come get me when these thoughts get to you. You could easily develop an eating disorder-” Vaggie tensed at the words, “And your mental health could get really bad,” said Charlie.

“O-okay, I promise…” Vaggie answered. Charlie gave her one final hug before stepping away.

“Now come on, let's go on this date, I have a fun couple hours planned,” Charlie grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. Vaggie laughed a genuine laugh to see how excited Charlie was to take her on this date.

The picnic was absolutely amazing. The food that Charlie prepared were pretty simply but just spending time together while watching the sun start to set made everything feel terrific. 

[soopersara]

Glowing

After realizing her feelings for Zuko, Katara goes looking for romantic advice.

Read it on AO3

“I thought you said you weren’t going to laugh at me!”

“I’m not!” For nearly five seconds, Suki succeeded in holding her expression steady before a snort burst out of her, and she doubled over, consumed by giggles.

Scowling, Katara whacked her with a cushion. “A lot of help you are. I just need some advice about what I should say to him. I don’t need you making fun of me for having a crush.”

Despite an obvious effort to compose herself, Suki couldn’t seem to stop giggling. “I’m not making fun of you.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure you have some other great reason for laughing at me, then.”

“Oh, come on, Katara.” Suki sat up as straight as she could, shoulders still shaking with barely-suppressed laughter. “You can’t ask me how to figure out if Zuko likes you back and expect me not to laugh.” She wiped her eyes. “I always thought Sokka was supposed to be the oblivious one in your family, but even he saw this coming ages ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Katara. Everyone can tell that you like him. It’s been obvious for a while. I think the only person who doesn’t see it is Zuko.” At long last, Suki’s expression steadied. “And incidentally, he’s also the only person worse at hiding his feelings than you.”

Katara pressed her lips together. Sure, she’d had feelings for Zuko for a while now. It wasn’t entirely unbelievable that the others might have noticed it at some point. But when it came to Zuko, nothing seemed that clear. She had noticed her own feelings shifting one morning when he offered her a hand up after a particularly long sparring match, but she’d never noticed any change in the way he acted around her. Even now, when she couldn’t look too deep into his eyes without forgetting how to string words together, he was still just—Zuko.

“Oh, don’t give me that face. You must have noticed it.”

“I haven’t,” Katara insisted. “I mean—yes, we’re friends, and I’m pretty sure he likes spending time with me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Suki rolled her eyes. “First of all, the fact that he likes spending time with you is a big deal. If you weren’t around, I’m pretty sure that Zuko would be perfectly happy not to leave his office more than once every three days. And beyond that—you can’t honestly tell me that you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

That was an exaggeration. Right? It had to be. Katara talked to Zuko all the time, and she would have noticed if there was anything out of the ordinary in the way he looked at her.

“And how exactly does he look at me?” she asked.

For a few seconds, Suki just stared. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. He’s always looked at me the same way. Ever since he found us at the Western Air Temple, he’s just been—him.” Katara hugged her knees tight to her chest. “I think I’m falling in love with my best friend, and I really can’t tell if his feelings have ever changed. Can you please just help me figure out what to say to him? I really don’t want to mess things up if he doesn’t see me that way.”

There was another pause, this one almost longer than the last. “Fine. I’ll give you some advice, but I’m not telling you what to say. I don’t need anyone blaming me if you chicken out.”

Katara scowled. “Thanks a lot for the confidence.”

Without acknowledging that comment, Suki leaned forward. “You need to start paying attention to how he acts with everyone else. The difference when you’re not around is ridiculous, and once you see that—”

“Wait a second. If I’m not around, how am I supposed to see how he acts?”

“I don’t know. Just—” Suki waved a hand in the air. “Spy on him. Sneak up on him if you have to. It’s not like he’ll ever get mad at you over something like that. My point is that as soon as you see how much he lights up around you, I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to figure the rest out on your own.”  

⁂

This was starting to feel silly.

It wasn’t that Katara mistrusted Suki’s advice—though, admittedly, she’d found the idea of sneaking up on Zuko a little absurd at first. She could see the logic in the idea of it. If Zuko really did light up around her, his uncanny ability to recognize the sound of her footsteps meant that she wasn’t likely to see it herself. If he liked her enough that her mere presence was enough to change his whole demeanor, she would probably have to put in a fair amount of time and effort to catch him off guard.

The trouble was that now, when she’d made up her mind to at least try Suki’s idea, it was proving difficult to sneak up on him. Absurdly difficult. So difficult, in fact, that she’d begun to question whether this much effort could really be worthwhile. She liked him a lot. Of course she did. But if it was this hard to figure out whether or not he felt the same, maybe she would be better off if she accepted the fact that they would only ever be friends.

Maybe. But for now, at least, she’d gone a bit too far to back down without making herself feel even sillier than she did already. Because while she’d contented herself with meandering up behind Zuko while he was distracted yesterday, today, she’d gone a step further and stashed herself in the hollow space behind a tapestry outside of his council room. And as much as she might regret the desperation that had brought her to this point, she couldn’t just leave. Any moment now, the doors to the council room would open, and a dozen stuffy old Fire Nation noblemen would file out right in front of her.

The last thing she needed right now was to humiliate herself quite that thoroughly. It was one thing for Zuko’s council to think she was stubborn and unreasonable in her demands when she attended summit meetings. It was quite another to let them think that she made a habit of hiding behind the tapestries around the palace.

Katara leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath. On the bright side, while the tapestry she’d chosen was opaque enough that no one would see her from the hall, she could at least make out vague silhouettes from here. It probably wouldn’t be clear enough for her to make out anything significant in Zuko’s expression or mannerisms, but she could deal with that for now. As long as she could escape with her dignity mostly intact, she could worry about figuring out Zuko’s feelings later.

She waited in the darkened hollow for longer than she was proud of. Long enough that she would have had several good opportunities to creep back out and return to her room if she’d been brave enough. At long last, the door did open, though, and she watched the advisors file out one after another and another. Including Zuko, there should have been around ten people in the room, so she counted the figures as best she could as they passed by the tapestry. Sure enough, after she counted ten of them, the hall went quiet again.

Silently, she counted down the seconds until a minute passed, then another. Then, when she was absolutely confident that everyone was gone, Katara pushed the tapestry to the side and stepped into the corridor.

At almost the same instant, there was a startled gasp behind her, and a squeak burst out of her mouth. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she spun on the spot.

“Katara?” Zuko hastily dropped back out of his bending stance, and his expression shifted from shock to confusion to something between surprise and relief. “Um—what are you doing out here?”

There was certainly something that changed in his eyes when he realized that it was her, but Katara wasn’t willing to assume that was what Suki had been talking about. She had just burst out from behind a tapestry, after all. Zuko was probably more relieved to see that it was her and not a stranger or an advisor than anything else. It was certainly more relief than infatuation, at least.

Katara did her best to regain her composure. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I said I was birdwatching. Would you?”

“Probably not,” he answered slowly. “There aren’t any windows in this hall, to start with. And I’m pretty sure I would have heard something if a bird got into the palace.”

“Right. I probably should have guessed that much.” She scuffed her palms against her thighs to wipe away the gathering dampness. “I might need a few minutes to come up with a better excuse.”

Though he still looked bemused and bewildered, the corners of Zuko’s mouth pulled upward. “Whatever you were doing, it looks like you’ve got some cobwebs stuck in your hair.”

Her hands flew up to her head. “I do? Oh, ew! Gross, gross, gross!”

Gently, he caught hold of her wrists. “It’s just one spot. Hold still and I’ll get it.”

He leaned in closer, and Katara froze. That small, soft smile playing across his lips was familiar, but something about it did feel different. Warmer, maybe. Or brighter, or—something. His fingertips brushed lightly over one of the narrow braids hanging by the side of her face and plucked a bit of fine, wispy spider silk out of her hair.

Maybe it was just the proximity. Or maybe Suki’s words were just too fresh in Katara’s mind, but when the usual fluttering in her chest started up again, there was another, newer sensation sitting alongside it.

“There. I guess the next time that the palace staff starts bothering me for things to do, I can have them clean the tapestries. I had no idea they were so full of cobwebs.”

“Neither did I,” she said, her voice scarcely rising above a whisper. Spirits, what was that feeling? The fluttering was beginning to fade, but if anything, she felt herself being drawn even closer to him. It was steadier, though. Calmer and stronger than anything else she’d felt for him before.

“So you weren’t birdwatching,” Zuko said. The amusement was obvious in his voice, but it, like everything else, was gentle. “Can I ask what you were doing, or is that a secret?”

She didn’t have to tell him the truth. She didn’t have to say anything at all, she knew that. Maybe it was just his proximity or the light in his eyes—she couldn’t be certain, but she spoke almost without thinking. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you. But I knew that you were meeting with your advisors, and I didn’t want to talk to them, and—well, in hindsight, I probably could have found a better way to accomplish that.”

He snorted. “Honestly, I might have to steal your hiding spot someday. I like spiders a lot more than I like some of my advisors.” He turned, stepping back just far enough to give her space to start walking alongside him. “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

Her face went hot, and she silently thanked the spirits that he wasn’t looking at her. “I was just wondering if you might want to have dinner with me. Tonight. Just the two of us.”

Zuko stopped walking. “Do you mean that? I mean—are you sure?”

There was such a tentative hope in his eyes that it took all her will to resist the urge to reach up and run her thumb along the lower rim of his scar. She smiled up at him instead. “I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t sure.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed scarlet, and he cleared his throat. “Okay. Then—yes. I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

Her heart skipped, and she felt her smile broaden involuntarily. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you around dinner time, then.”

His smile warmed until his eyes practically glowed with pure happiness. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Maybe a late dinner time,” she amended hastily. “I have a feeling that I’ll have to wash some dust and cobwebs out of my hair before then.”

Zuko laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can wait that long.” Then, smiling almost blindingly bright, he took a small step back. “I’ll see you later this evening.”