#fashionable always felt excessive

[mariamagdalenaposting]

🎉🎉🎉 FIXED MY BIKE 🎉🎉🎉

[salem-witch-slut]

Behind Closed Doors (18+)

Ellie Williams x Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Abby and Ellie are always at each other's throats and everyone can safely say that they hate each other. But no one ever sees what happens when the doors are closed and their hidden away from the world.

WARNINGS: Excessive swearing, dom!Abby, sub!Ellie, pussy eating, aggressive scissoring, hair pulling, spit swallowing, hate sex, no aftercare, Ellie being a rude bitch

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

A/N: I just love these two. This one was a personal favorite because it's just so damn dirty. This is NOT a continuation of Unrequited. Just a similar preface.

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Everything was going her way right now. She had woken up on time, she had enough time to take a shower even, and she was able to get breakfast before patrol! The sun was up, and the autumn air was comfortably cool, enough for her to wear her thin hoodie all day long. Everything was going good��� And then she saw her assignment.

“Unfuckingbelievable…” Ellie’s hand went to the board where she saw she was running the Hoback Pass trail with… of all the people that she could go with, why was it her?

“Damn, you got Abby?” Ellie looked over her shoulder to see Jesse standing right behind her. A deep sigh left Ellie’s throat as she ran her entire hand across her face and tried to calm down. She knew it was too good to be true. And she knew that the second they were deep inside of the patrol route, her and Abby would be attacking each other like wild animals. It was always inevitable.

Shimmer was being pulled in from the paddock as Ellie went to retrieve her rifle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joel and Abby’s dad, Jerry, leaning against the fence on the far right with mugs in their hands and casually talking, clearly enjoying their day off. Ellie envied them, but at the same time she felt bad for Jerry. He had the world’s bitchiest daughter.

“Where even is she?” Ellie checked the chamber of her rifle and made sure it was loaded before a hand curled around the barrel. A very large, veined hand that she could recognize with her fucking eyes closed.

“Don’t fall in the lake again,” Abby remarked, her hair in that same stupid braid it always was. She was wearing a flannel that she cut the sleeves off of and underneath was a black compression shirt with a few tears near the collar. She sure was adapting to that Wyoming fashion after being here for like… five years now.

“Oh my, god, that was one time,” Ellie rolled her eyes and yanked the rifle out of her hand, slinging it over her shoulder with her backpack. Abby simply scowled and went to get her own rifle while retrieving her horse.

As usual, Jesse gave the morning talk like he always did before he jumped onto his horse and the gates opened up. Ellie noticed that Dina was riding with Manny today; that’s good. They got along great and shared stories about Mexico, and New Mexico.

Ellie looked at her partner and saw that Abby seemed more than eager to get this patrol started. What was going through her mind right now?

“You ready for this?” Ellie scooted Shimmer closer to Abby’s stallion, Artax.

Abby looked over at Ellie, and smirked. “Try to stay quiet this time.”

Attacking each other like wild animals was almost an understatement…

Everything was going like normal, with Ellie and Abby clearing out their routes, taking down any infected that was nearby and making sure the paths were clear… And as soon as they reached their first lookout, Abby snapped.

Seconds after Ellie signed them in, Abby was pushing her face down into the table and grabbing a fistful of her auburn hair, leaning down low enough to whisper into her ear in just the right way that it drove Ellie crazy every time. “Wore those fucking jeans on purpose, didn’t you?”

Ellie couldn’t stop herself from whining from Abby’s gravelly voice, basking in the warmth from her body heat and leaning back against her. Ellie knew that the blonde loved these jeans, and for some reason, she just couldn’t help herself when grabbing them this morning. They hugged her ass almost perfectly.

“Y-you fuckin’ wish,” Ellie teased, her heart racing at Abby sliding her hands down in order to grip her ass with her immense strength. What was it about this damn woman that made Ellie want to submit but give attitude at the same time?

Abby’s veined hands slid into the back pocket of Ellie’s jeans before her thumbs traced the crease between her asscheeks, teasing the redhead to no end as she moved her hands down and dragged the tips of her fingers across the denim crotch. Abby didn’t miss the way Ellie shivered at her touch. And Ellie couldn’t hide how wet she was even if she tried.

“Fucking sad, isn’t it?” Abby taunted, her right hand sliding back up to grab at Ellie’s hair hard enough to make her eyes water. “You hate me… and I’m the only one that can fuck you good enough.”

“S-Shut up,” Ellie demanded. “J-Just stop fucking talking.”

“Oh, but you like it when I talk,” Abby taunted before her hand curled into the waistband of Ellie’s jeans and started yanking them down over her rear. For some reason, Ellie knew this would happen… and she had this sickening suspicion that Abby was prepared this. “You love it when I degrade the fuck out of you and split you open on my fingers, don’t you?”

Ellie stayed quiet, trying to deny her and biting down on her lip in order to stifle the sounds that were escaping her against her will. Abby wasn’t having it. Her massive hand came down and smacked directly against Ellie’s ass. A loud yelp left her and she looked over her shoulder and stared Abby down with a simmering glare. Abby was grinning.

If Ellie wasn’t careful, Abby might get angry enough to rip her jeans in the process… it’s happened a few times in the past before, and that was an awkward walk back to Jackson. Falling in the river? Yeah, that’s why she trashed her jeans, not because the seam was ripped right over her cunt so Abby could have easy access to her.

Tried to blame Ellie’s shaking legs on the cold water… But Abby knew the truth.

The blonde was waiting. She wanted to hear Ellie say how desperate she was for her, but Abby was going to need to try harder than that. She knew Ellie and knew that she was a stubborn little shit until the end.

Ellie tried to blame the sweating on the hot weather, but that wasn’t fully true. Her shirt was sticking to her bare skin uncomfortably, and normally Abby would have her almost completely naked by now, but the blonde was holding back. She was torturing her, and Ellie didn’t know if she loved it or hated it.

“You gonna say it?” Abby leaned down, her braid tickling the side of Ellie’s neck as she breathed against her skin. Ellie scowled, looking at Abby with narrowed eyes and resisting the urge to spit on her cheek like she’s done in the past. Their dynamic was so fucked, but so much fun that they just couldn’t stop themselves from sinking into madness. When Ellie curled her lips downward into a mocking snarl, Abby scoffed and grabbed a fistful of her hair once again, yanking her off the table and pushing her down onto the couch against the wall.

Ellie can’t even remember the number of times they fucked on this couch. And now another one was about to be added to their mental list. Abby put the sole of her boot into Ellie’s chest, forcing her to lean all the way back against the couch. Once she was satisfied, Abby removed her foot and stepped forward, standing between the auburn-haired girl’s legs and reaching down with her right hand.

“Open,” Abby demanded, her fingers gripping Ellie’s jaw as she huffed, and denied Abby what she wanted. In retaliation, Abby lightly swatted her cheek with her hand, forcing Ellie’s head to cock to the left as she whined. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

Ellie opened her mouth, and Abby immediately slipped her fingers in, dragging her index and middle digit across her tongue and teasing her mouth in the most torturous way possible. Ellie drooled, saliva slipping from her tongue and down her neck as Abby pushed her fingers a little further into her mouth and made the girl gag.

“That’s it, good girl,” Abby praised, seeing the way Ellie shivered when she gave her the positive words. She knew that Ellie loved it when she praised her, but Abby loved to tease… And she loved to degrade. And while Ellie loved sweet words of affirmation, she also loved being treated like a slut sometimes… and by sometimes, she means every time with Abby. “Head back… just like that…”

Ellie sat there obediently and whined as Abby leaned forward and mercilessly spit into Ellie’s open mouth. Ellie’s heart was racing with every passing second as she did exactly what the blonde wanted. Abby pressed a kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips and released her jaw. “Swallow.”

She gulped without a word of disobedience.

“Oh, fuck this,” Abby looked frantic as she got down on her knees in front of Ellie and began yanking down the girl’s jeans as fast as she possibly could. She almost ripped the denim, wrestling with Ellie’s dumb converse as she yanked them off and left her in just her shirt and socks before leaning down and grabbing Ellie’s thighs with both hands. The veins flexed in her forearms and Ellie huffed pathetically.

They’ve done this dance so many times before. Ellie was so familiar with Abby’s touch by now that she knew what to expect when the woman was desperate. Her tensed fingers gripping at Ellie’s flesh was making her tremble with anticipation as the blonde dived down like she couldn’t take it anymore. It was only a few seconds before Abby’s tongue was on Ellie’s pussy.

“OhmyGOD,” Ellie arched upward, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as she fell against the back of the couch. It always felt like the first time, and she could never get enough of the blonde’s mouth on her for as long as she lived. Ellie looked down, seeing how Abby’s brows were pulled in almost anger as she lapped her cunt from her hole to her clit, drinking in her arousal and pushing her legs up so Ellie’s knees nearly touched her shoulders.

Abby loved being in control. She had no problem folding Ellie’s limbs around so it was easier for her to take advantage of her body and have her lay in the perfect way so she could reach her deepest parts and get Ellie to make the sweetest sounds. Not once had Ellie topped Abby, but it didn’t seem like an issue. She always made Abby cum so it didn’t matter… Ellie loved being used by her like this. It was a part of her that she was allowed to lose and give to someone else; a piece of control she could relinquish willingly to the strongest person she knows.

Ellie didn’t voice that she trusted Abby, but it was wordlessly affirmed for her almost every time.

Abby was drowning in her. Ellie’s heavy taste was making her moan, her tongue dancing between the girl’s slick folds and feasting on her pussy like she was the most delicious thing she’s ever put in her mouth. Ellie wasn’t allowed to touch her yet… not until Abby said so.

The blonde’s fingers squeezed her thighs harder, and Ellie let out a squeak that was so pathetic, Abby almost felt mercy for a second. She broke away from her core for a small second, panting and looking down at how the girl’s cunt was glistening with pleasure and her drool. God, Ellie was so fucking hot that it was painful. Abby was ignoring the pulse in her own cunt as she looked up and latched her lips around Ellie’s clit, sucking hard and making Ellie’s body jerk forward off the couch.

“FUCK!” She sounded like she was in pain, her eyes squeezing shut and her thighs shaking as she bent forward and wrapped her arms around Abby’s head. Fuck the rules, she wouldn’t survive this if she couldn’t touch her. Abby allowed it, and hummed with approval at Ellie’s nails scratching on her scalp. “Fuck, shit… A-Abby…”

The blonde wiggled her head from side to side as her tongue provided delicious stimulation for the tattooed girl at her mercy. She was drowning and loving every second of this… but Abby wanted more. Oh, she wanted so much more that it was painful.

Ellie was in ecstasy, but it was immediately ripped away when Abby broke off from her cunt and leaned back, looking at her and bringing her strong hand down to deliver a swat to her glistening pussy, right over her exposed clit. Ellie screamed, and immediately covered her mouth. If she was any fucking louder, the lookout would be swarming with infected… that would be beyond embarrassing to explain to everybody.

“Abby w-what the fuck is—” Ellie complained, now angry that the blonde stopped. But her complaints died on her mouth when she saw Abby stand up and unbuckle the belt on her hips, pushing her cargo pants down and unlacing her boots. “Can’t wait, huh? I’m that irresistible?”

“Shut up,” Abby bit back, grabbing at Ellie and pulling her off the couch. She laid her down over the sleeping bag that was left from the last patrol that had to stay here, pushing her down onto the ground and kicking her boots off, along with the jeans and underwear hanging off her ankles. “Shut up and do what I fucking say for once.”

“And if I don’t?” Ellie barked, staring Abby down with a fire behind her eyes. Abby didn’t like that answer and she immediately began to pull away, almost like she was about to get dressed again. Ellie began to panic, and she reached out, gripping Abby by the front of her shirt. “Okay, okay, you win!  Fuck, I’ll do whatever you say, just please—”

Abby smirked, caging Ellie with her arms for a brief moment as she bent down and captured Ellie’s lips with her own. The kiss was soft, gentle, the opposite of what these two were with each other. That was one thing that always felt wrong, but so right… It didn’t matter how hard Abby fucked her, or how aggressive she was with her… Ellie always gave her the sweetest kisses that had Abby’s heart racing and it made her tremble with some forbidden emotion that she swore she didn’t feel for Ellie.

“You even beg like a whore,” Abby teased, resulting in Ellie biting her bottom lip. The blonde responded with gripping Ellie’s hips and pushing her upward a little before she used her right knee to lift the girl’s leg up a bit. “Come on, behave. Leg up, on my shoulder.”

Ellie obeyed, and she wasn’t sure if it was because her cunt was pulsing angrily, or because Abby smelled so good when she leaned forward and trailed her lips down the outer column of her neck. Ellie lifted up her leg, resting her calf against Abby’s broad shoulder as the blonde wasted no time in crawling over her body and slotting herself perfectly between Ellie’s legs.

“God, just fucking look at you,” Abby taunted, dropping forward and listening to the way Ellie groaned as she felt the blonde’s slick cunt slide against her own dripping pussy. Why did these two completely opposite women fit together so perfectly, like puzzle pieces from different boxes? Abby reached forward and pushed Ellie’s bangs out of her face, basking in how her green eyes sparkled with tears that threatened to fall. “You want me to fuck you so bad, you look stupid.”

“T-Then fucking do it already,” Ellie snapped, her fists curling into the front of Abby’s shirt as she yanked her down, veins bulging from her hands as she showed that aggression that Abby adored in her little spitfire so much. “Fuck me like you fucking mean it.”

Abby fell forward, her hands slamming into the floor behind Ellie’s head as she rutted down against her. The mix of their juices together provided the most perfect friction that Ellie couldn’t stop moaning, even for a second.

Normally she wasn’t this loud, but for some reason today, Ellie was overly whiny and vocal. It was like she was more sensitive than normal, and everything that Abby did was sending her into overdrive. She was wetter, her heart was racing faster, and her muscles were trembling with every single thrust of Abby’s cunt against her own.

Ellie reached up, grabbing the back of Abby’s neck and biting her lip as she did everything in her power to stifle her sounds, but it just felt too fucking good, and she didn’t even sound like herself! Ellie has never made these kinds of noises before in her life… Abby was practically drooling.

Everything was going just how Abby wanted it… and then Ellie grabbed her braid. A rough yank to her hair had Abby’s head snapping back and she gaped, eyes widening as she looked down and stared into Ellie’s green irises that seemed almost playful as she tugged on the braid again.

It was like a trigger as Abby just moved her hips faster, and ground herself down against Ellie’s cunt harder. She felt Ellie’s clit rub against her own in the most perfect way that Abby’s pace was beginning to falter, and her hips started stuttering. She hasn’t been able to cum in almost a week… Abby was just as sensitive as Ellie.

“Shit, El…” Abby huffed, her heart slamming against her ribs as Ellie’s fingers began aggressively curling in her hair. It didn’t take long for Ellie to unravel the braid, long blonde waves falling over and framing her face in golden curtains. Ellie loved seeing Abby with her hair down… it made her look even more beautiful than before. “Fuck… b-better cum f’me…”

“A-Abby… Abby, please…” Ellie sobbed, falling back to the ground. One of her arms went over her eyes and she arched off the floor, trying to meet Abby’s movements and slip herself along the blonde’s beautiful pussy. Abby was having none of it.

“No,” She grabbed Ellie’s wrist, pushing both arms down onto the floor and towering over her. She was really testing how far Ellie could stretch as she nearly forced the girl into a split. “Don’t you f-fucking dare look away from me… Want you to look me in the eyes… w-when you fucking cum— Jesus christ…”

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to disobey even if she wanted to. It was like a hot shower after falling in a frozen lake. It warmed her from the outside in, sending Ellie into sudden trembles that quickly took over her entire body.

“Fuckfuck— Ohmygod Abbyyyyyy…!” Ellie pressed her forehead against the blonde’s her eyes rolling back as her orgasm brought her to literal tears. Abby wasn’t far behind as she rutted against Ellie’s cunt that was getting wetter and wetter with every second.

Abby stopped moving, her hips jerking forward as low, violent groans of pleasure left her throat. “F-Fucking take it, baby… Making a fucking mess of this pussy…”

She could only hold herself up for so long. It didn’t take much for Abby to fall, her arms giving out as she pushed her face into Ellie’s sweat stained shirt. She carefully moved Ellie’s leg, listening to the poor girl cry out as her thigh cramped up and she fully lowered her limb down onto the floor. Her breath was labored, and her heart was racing and pounding hard enough that Abby could hear it and feel it against her face.

Both of them were quiet for a long time… What exactly are they supposed to say about it? It was always slightly awkward after they fucked each other speechless. This part never got any easier to deal with. A sigh left Abby’s throat as she looked up, trying to gauge Ellie’s expressions, but as always, she was an expert at schooling how she was feeling on the outside.

“You okay?” Abby asked, sitting up slowly and looking into Ellie’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated and to anybody else, they could assume she had gotten high. Abby began to remove herself from Ellie, her face turning red at how their bodies stuck together in the most vulgar fashion. “Ellie, are you—”

“I’m fine,” Ellie remarked, rubbing at her face with both hands as she sat up off the floor, only to fall back on her palms when a wave of dizziness washed over her. “I’m always fine…”

“Yeah,” Abby muttered wordlessly, reaching for a towel inside of the emergency duffel bag that was kept at every lookout. She slowly wiped off her inner thighs and stomach before she went to clean Ellie up, only for the redhead to stop her. “Would you just—”

“I’m not a fucking baby, I can do it myself,” Ellie snapped, wiping her legs off and making sure the remnants of Abby’s slick wasn’t left on any part of her skin. “See? Fully capable.”

“Just…” Abby looked like she had more to say. Ellie waited, pressing her thighs together to try and regain some sort of modesty, but Abby just scoffed, reaching for her jeans and tugging them back on. Ellie looked disappointed. “We gotta get moving.”

Ellie knew she was the one in the wrong. Abby always tried this every time. She would ask if Ellie was okay, and if she needed anything. Abby always tried to clean her up, whisper words of praise, even tried to kiss her once when it was over… But Ellie wasn’t having it. She was cold, aggressive, and pushed all forms of aftercare away from the blonde like being fucked by her was the worst thing she could think of.

Abby refused to tell Ellie just how much it hurt her. Every time Ellie denied her advances, Abby felt her heart ache all over again… Funny, isn’t it? How the biggest, baddest person in Jackson is the one pining after the rudest bitch to ever walk the streets.

Abby was embarrassed for the rest of the patrol route. She felt angry, dirty even, as she watched her patrol partner act and kill like nothing had happened, and nothing was wrong. Like she didn’t just have Abby all over her and against her…

Would Ellie ever let Abby in? Would Abby ever stop simping for Ellie? Or the bigger question…

Would they ever admit to themselves just how badly they were in love with each other?

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty P.A. Chapter 7

Summary: Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion modeling agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.  **curvy reader** **Y/N/N = Your nickname ** Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (not from Bucky), some violence, blood, smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Y/N knew she needed to talk to Bucky, but couldn’t get the courage to do it.  Two weeks later Olympus was reached out to by Vogue, wanting to do a story about Bucky being a supermodel turned agency director.  He agreed and they found themselves being flown to Lake Como in Italy for a photoshoot.  Bucky looked pristine in his all-white outfit, getting doused with water to look like he’d just come out of the lake, his long hair meticulously placed as they wetted it.  Y/N smirked at how handsome he looked.  He’d promised her a fancy dinner that night, and she couldn’t wait to get him to bed with the cool spring air and the amazing views of the area.  

“God, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” one of the other assistants on the shoot, Yelena, said as she walked up to her.

Y/N huffed a laugh as they watched him once again pull himself onto the dock, the camera going off a million times.  He stood and pushed his hair back.  “Yes,” she agreed.

“You’re so lucky to get to work for that,” Yelena whispered, gesturing towards Bucky’s body and giving Y/N a suggestive nudge to her arm.  Y/N just smiled.  She was very lucky.  “Is he, uh, seeing anyone?” Yelena asked, licking her lips.

Y/N silently sighed.  This was a constant question she had to shield every time they went somewhere for work.  She wanted to scream, to stomp her feet, make a scene, but she merely shook her head.  “He’s very private about those kinds of things, so I wouldn’t know,” Y/N said noncommittally.  

Yelena hummed and shrugged.  “Well, I’ll just have to figure it out myself,” she winked at Y/N and started walking down the pier towards Bucky and the team behind the camera.

Y/N subtly glared at Yelena as she approached Bucky and fixed his hair again, her fingers lingering along his jaw before she turned and talked to one of the other assistants.  Bucky gave Yelena a quizzical look but focused back on the camera as they caught a few more shots.  Y/N waited until they called it quits, but Yelena stayed back and talked with Bucky for a few minutes.  He was being polite and friendly, as he was with everyone, but she kept touching his arm, pushing his hair back again as it dripped water, and laughing excessively at whatever he said.  Y/N’s jaw ticked, aching with how hard she was clenching it.  Yelena was beautiful, short like Y/N but slender.  She and Bucky weren’t exclusive, but she felt the jealousy and frustration rage inside her as he dismissed himself but she followed him up the pier.  Y/N tried to keep her face neutral as he walked up to her and smiled.  “Hey babes,” he greeted her.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the pet name he reserved for private times, and Yelena blinked in surprise.  “Hey,” Y/N said, pulling out his water bottle and handing it to him.  “Did they give the all clear?”

“Yep, we’re finished,” Bucky said, gulping down the water before handing it back to her.  “I’m just gonna get cleaned up then we’ll go to dinner.”  Y/N nodded with a side smile.  He turned to Yelena.  “Thank you for your help today.  I look forward to seeing the final product in a couple of months.”

Yelena looked a little put out but nodded politely.  “Of course, thank you for coming.”

Bucky quickly linked his arm with Y/N and led her towards the beach house that they were staying in just a short walk away from the pier.  They didn’t say anything to each other on the way, and when they finally reached the door Bucky led her inside then locked it behind them soundly.  He suddenly grabbed Y/N and pinned her to the door, his head dipping down to start kissing at her neck while his hands wandered around her body.  “Jealous, babes?” he muttered.

Y/N squirmed and pushed him away, but he kept smirking at her.  “No,” Y/N said.  She dodged his arms and walked around him, leading the way to the bedroom.

“Oh come on, Y/N, it’s okay,” Bucky chuckled as he followed her.

Y/N kept walking, ignoring him as she went to the bathroom and turned on the shower for him.  “Clean up,” she instructed him before turning to leave.

“Woah, babes,” Bucky said, suddenly serious.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and made her face him.  “Hey, I was just teasing.”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, keeping her gaze at his chest.  “We never specified if we were exclusive.  You’re free to do whatever, or whoever, you want.”

Bucky scoffed and let go of her shoulders.  “Are you seeing other people?” he asked with a bitter tone.

“No,” Y/N said, glancing at him.

“Neither am I,” he said, stepping toward her and pinning her against the sink.  “Look at me, babes.”  Y/N sighed heavily then met his gaze.  He watched her for a moment, the shower making the bathroom start to steam up.  “I don’t want to be with anyone else.  Only you.  I don’t want you with anyone else.  Only me.  And I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear before,” he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.  “We were just…happy.  I didn’t think I’d need to.”

“Well you do,” Y/N said quietly.  

Bucky sighed this time, his smirk coming back.  “You’re mine.  I’m yours.  We belong to each other.  Exclusively.  You wanna be my girlfriend?  Great.  You’re my girlfriend.  Though that seems like a pale description of what you mean to me.”

Y/N frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Bucky smiled fully at her question.  “What words could possibly do you justice?  You are my everything.  My center.  My sun.  You are the greatest thing that has happened to me.  My greatest achievement.  Not because I conquered you in any way, but because I somehow won your heart, and it's my most prized possession.”  Y/N could feel her eyes fill with tears.  “I told you that first night.  All I want is you, babes.  Whether that means as my girlfriend, my fiance, my wife, though none of those words will fully express what it is you mean to me.”

Y/N’s tears finally fell and Bucky quickly wiped them away.  She had never cried in front of him before, so it felt very vulnerable, but she smiled up at him.  “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispered.

Bucky’s smile widened.  “I mean it.  Every word.”

“I love you,” Y/N confessed.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned his forehead against her forehead.  “God that feels so good to hear,” he whispered.  He opened his eyes and gazed at her.  “I love you.”  Y/N cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down to kiss her.  He happily reciprocated, his arms winding around her waist and holding her tight to him as he deepened the kiss.  They stayed there, almost swaying as they kissed, until he chuckled against her lips.  “Now you’re all wet,” he said, looking down at his wet clothes soaking up her outfit.

“Looks like we’re both going to need to clean up,” Y/N smirked suggestively.

Bucky groaned at her tone, quickly stripping them both and leading her to the shower.

@calwitch @hzdhrtss

[nhasablogg]

The dance of three

Fandom: MCU

Characters: Bucky/Steve/Tony

Summary: Steve and Tony help Bucky get out of his head in their usual way.

A/N: I wrote this for Throwback Week, a project where I would be revisiting fandoms and pairings I used to write for back in the day and posting a week's worth of fics for them. But life happens, and I don't think I'm at a point where I can do this project and be happy with the results. I did however finish this fic before deciding to scrap it, and I have a few half-finished ones I'd love to eventually complete, but for now I'm leaving you with this good old fashioned Stuckony fic, complete with tickles and some teasing and pondering. I hope you like it!

Words: 2k

(Read it on AO3)

Bucky wasn’t good at this, despite the amount of them he’d attended in the past year. Too many people loosened up by the excessive amount of booze you could sneak into your system just by casually grabbing at the champagne glasses that were everywhere. Too many people and too many eyes on him, even though they rarely spoke to him. He used to be good at charming a crowd, only nowadays, in this century, he preferred if they left him alone. Galas were full of people he’d never been around. There was no warmth there.

“Are you sulking?” A hand at his waist, Steve’s minty breath at his ear.

“Not exactly,” Bucky replied, straightening out his features which seemed to definitely have been forming a frown. No wonder people glanced at him quickly and then pretended they hadn’t. “It’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot in here?”

Steve smiled. What had once been a situation where Bucky always had the advantage had now turned into the opposite, although neither of them were even close to being on Tony’s level, naturally. “It is a little stuffy in here, yes,” Steve said, humoring him, or comforting him, or both. Probably both. “Do you want to step outside?”

“I want to find Tony and leave.”

“Buck.”

He sighed. “Outside’s fine. I wanted to look at the view anyway.”

The gala, the most boring of parties, was at the very top of a skyscraper with a view of the entire city, meaning even the balcony was gated in the form of tall metal bars to keep drunk and depressed people from ruining the mood. Bucky might’ve imagined it, but the chilly march air felt thin out there, but at least it was quieter.

“The size of this place is bigger than our first apartment.” He pointed to the ground, tracing the outlines of the invisible squeaky floors of a Brooklyn flat many moons ago, which had been lined with the few books they owned and Steve’s many overfilled notebooks. It had almost been beautiful had it not been so utterly pathetic how their lack of possessions had nothing to do with being okay with a meager living.

Steve was following his hand with his eyes, humming as Bucky continued outlining their too small bed and rickety chairs. “So’s our bedroom back at the Tower.”

“I know. It’s weird. I don’t know what to do with all that space now.”

Steve leaned into him, looking so good in that stupid navy blue suit that Bucky imagined pulling him into a restroom just to rip it off. “It’ll get easier.”

Bucky didn’t respond, because he was sure that Steve didn’t just mean this, and Bucky wasn’t in the mood for existentialism, believe it or not.

He sighed and pressed his cheek toward Steve’s face, grinning when Steve laughed and kissed him. He nearly screamed when someone suddenly kissed his other cheek, only the rational side of his brain caught up to him and he turned to find Tony having crept up to them. “Hey you.”

“Hi. Why exactly are you getting cozy without me?”

“Couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“And here I thought it was the two of you who were hiding.”

“Mm, you jealous?”

“That you’re able to hide? Very.” He looked tired, although something in his tone made Bucky say, “So why are we here then?”

Tony clicked his tongue and moved away from him. Steve might’ve been okay with Bucky’s maybe not so subtle whiny tone which he’d adopted for the night, but Tony wasn’t.

“Sorry,” he hurried to add, averting his gaze. “I know you don’t want to be here either.” I know it’s hard for you to be around these people and all the booze.

“Yeah, well.” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m glad you both came with me anyway.”

“Of course we came,” Steve said, shooting Bucky a look.

“Yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Tony broke out into a laugh and Bucky felt himself relax. “God, it’s boring, isn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. Nice view, though.”

Tony turned so that they were standing side by side with Bucky in the middle, watching a glittering New York City that spread out as far as the eye could see. Bucky suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry and turned his face to the side where Tony was standing, thinking he didn’t know him as well as Steve did yet, and found him already looking at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bucky.”

“I don’t know.”

Tony looked at Steve briefly, the two of them trying to quietly figure out what to do. It might’ve once offended Bucky had he not been so fascinated by the ways they all communicated. How much easier it was now.

“We can leave,” Tony said slowly, a hand on his side, firm and reassuring. “Soon. I’m sorry. I just have to-”

“You don’t have to apologize, Tones, Jesus.” Bucky shook his head. “It’s not your fault I’m being an asshole.”

“You are obviously uncomfortable. I wouldn’t call that being an asshole.”

“I’m, uh, strangely emotional.” He regretted it the moment he said it. “Wait, that sounds pathetic, I take it back.”

Tony laughed more than the situation probably called for. “You’re killing me here. Steve, entertain him while I go sort some things out.”

Steve hummed in a way that made them both turn toward him. “Or maybe we can- you know. Fix things so that none of us have to suffer through the rest of the night. Buy a bit more time.”

Bucky understood what he meant before Tony did, and so he was already bright red by the time Tony started grinning. “Oh. Is that it, then?”

“I never said that,” Bucky was quick to say, although there was no heat in his voice anymore. He both hated and loved Steve for always knowing what he needed.

“But you’re not objecting.” Steve’s smile was kind to Tony’s playful. Bucky didn’t know which one he feared more.

“Only if you want us to,” Steve added. “Otherwise we can stay here while Tony finishes his business. How long would that take?”

“At least half an hour,” Tony said, checking his watch. “Can you wait for half an hour?”

“Not now that you’ve teased me like that.”

They laughed at Bucky’s groan. “Well, that’s settled then. Let’s find a bathroom or something.”

“This is so unromantic.”

“I can totally light a candle.”

“And embarrassing.”

Tony hooked his arm through Bucky’s. “You’ll live.”

They’d only done this once before, but Bucky hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it since. Steve had remembered it from their time together before everything, and so he hadn’t been surprised when it had slowly crept into their relationship with Tony too. Correction. They’d only done it in public once before.

Bucky knew even less what to do with it now that there were two sets of eyes observing him, two mouths smiling down at him. Two pairs of hands slowly unraveling him, finding each and every weak spot. He’d never been shy, but this was too close to it for comfort, only he didn’t mind the vulnerability.

They made their way through the gala, looking determined enough that no one stopped them. Bucky felt Steve press closely against his back while Tony pulled him through the crowd, the three of them interconnected. He imagined them grinning giddily, but he himself had not yet learned how to be relaxed about this. How to have this be more than a knot in his stomach until the very first touch would force the anxiety out of him.

“Why are you-” Steve had stopped himself all those decades ago. “You seem. Tense. But in the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?”

“You don’t seem nervous as much as worried.” He’d taken a step back and Bucky had held himself back from grabbing for him to pull him back. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Bucky had wished to tell him that they could keep it casual, although he hadn’t. Steve would figure it out eventually, although with Tony it was still new and Bucky felt anxious about it again. Everything else had only made it worse, but he appreciated that Tony never made a big deal out of it. They didn’t talk about his anxiety; how his timidness nearly turned him stoic. Steve had accepted it long ago. Tony didn’t question it.

“Ah, here.” Tony pushed open a door after leading them through several corridors to reveal a relatively big bedroom. “They always make sure they have somewhere to put the rich and drunk.” Bucky didn’t ask if he’d been in there before, but he could picture it. Tony stumbling over the carpet. Tony passing out on the floor.

“This is also miraculously bigger than our old apartment,” Steve said, but Bucky’s attempt at a laugh was weak. “Hey,” Steve continued, a flicker of concern on his face. “Do you actually want this right now?”

“Yes.” Bucky ducked his head. “You know how I get.”

Steve stepped closer to him, a hand on his wrist. “I do.” A squeeze. A smile. “The door can be locked. We’re far away from the party, although I would also assume the room is partly sound proof. You can laugh as much as you want.”

“And we,” Tony said, appearing on Bucky’s other side. “can tickle as much as we, and you, want. Okay?”

Bucky finally, finally, broke into a nervous grin. “Okay.”

They were still new to the dance of three, and so Bucky watched his partners try to figure out how to move around each other without overcrowding him. It was almost amusing, only he felt suddenly extremely ticklish and aware of what was to come, and so he sat on the bed and tried to keep himself from curling up already. The gala was nothing to him now. He barely remembered where he was. This room could be any room. This bed could be any bed (except for their old squeaky Brooklyn bed from the 30s). Tony sat beside him first, the mattress dipping from his weight, and turned his body to face him. One day they might not start this with uncertainty, but that was not that day. “Can I-? Your upper body-?”

“Yes.” Bucky ducked his head, keeping his hands from covering his face. “Anywhere you want.”

Tony grinned, slowly, amused. “Okay. Could you lift your arms for me then?”

“Definitely not.”

Steve laughed. “I could’ve told you that. Here, let me.” 

He pushed Bucky down gently, covering his body with his own and holding onto his arms, and Bucky was laughing even before he felt Tony reach for his armpit. Steve was blocking many of his spots from reach, but being trapped and having Tony zero in on one specific area was almost worse. And once Steve started nuzzling into his neck? He was a goner. Thank god for sound proof walls and loud galas and partners who didn’t judge you.

Bucky turned his face in an attempt to block Steve’s nuzzling and came face to face with Tony, who really had no business lying down with them but was and was letting his fingers lazily circle Bucky’s skin, moving up and down between his armpit and upper ribs. He was smiling. It tickled like hell. Almost worse because he was taking his sweet time with it.

“Hi,” he said and Bucky would’ve rolled his eyes if he could. “Do you feel better now?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Oh, Steve, he’s being mean to me.” Tony grabbed for his hip, and Bucky started squirming when he realized he was aiming for the hem of his dress shirt which was tucked in his pants. “That simply won’t do.”

“No, no, no, not bare skin, no-” Of course Bucky’s protests weren’t serious enough, but Tony was still inexperienced that he always paused, giving Bucky a chance to explain if he meant it. When Bucky didn’t continue, he got his shirt free, slipping a hand into it easily and scribbling over his bare side. Steve was still nuzzling his neck, picking up speed again after the brief pause.

How Bucky was supposed to go back out there and pretend as if this hadn’t happened he wasn’t sure. Fortunately his blazer would hide the wrinkles in his shirt, though there was not much saving his hair. Not to mention the ghost tickles that would follow him for the rest of the night. There was no getting rid of them either.

[kittttycakes]

red currant

Read on AO3 here. No one can outrun grief, not even Morpheus, formerly Dream of the Endless. Grief is patient, and it will wait, even in the aisles of a grocery store, to take him into its arms and hold him tight. contents: Dreamling, human Morpheus, post-Kindly Ones, mild gore, brief discussion of food-related issues, grief

At first, Morpheus was too busy dealing with a body that needed things. It was often too cold, its joints ached terribly, and it took him longer than he cared to admit to recognize what hunger and thirst actually felt like. The latter came with their own host of indignities, not least of which was the seeming inability to properly digest dairy, and a strong aversion to certain textures, no matter how appealing the food in question might be in theory. 

Hob both understood, and didn’t. He was always warm, something Morpheus deeply envied, even if he wouldn’t admit to it aloud. He too struggled, sometimes, with food, albeit in a much different way; the cupboards were often overfull before being carefully culled for in-date products to donate away, and he ate to uncomfortable excess on occasion, as if he forgot that there would be more for the foreseeable future.

There was also the question of fashioning a life out of nothing. Morpheus was dragged to a tiny shop in an out of the way street and photographed for a passport purchased in cash, along with all other relevant cards and certificates that made someone human. He was, with great effort, persuaded to allow the doctor with kind eyes who still made house calls to examine him, who pronounced him to be in fair health and left him with a number of pamphlets on proper nutrition. He came to know how to use a phone in practice, instead of merely in theory. 

But Hob couldn’t stay with Morpheus in the flat forever, and Morpheus threw himself into the process of becoming human. He spent long hours reading, books he once would have known simply by touching their spine, learned instead page by page and word by word. He slept more often than he thought an adult human might need, and he spent time submerged in the bathtub, topping up the hot water the second it began to grow tepid. He played music on Hob’s speakers, any album that Hob owned, and didn’t stop to think why he couldn’t bear to sit still without distraction. 

Because Morpheus was fine. He had been trapped in a human body in a glass cage for a century; being suddenly and irrevocably shoved into the same form, pieced back together lovingly by hands he could not bear to contemplate, was almost a familiar feeling. He had not felt hunger or thirst or pain in that prison, but to discover them for himself was not mind-breaking. He endured, and he allowed Hob to care for him, and he did not let himself be otherwise. 

But all things, as he came to know, must change. 

He was alone in the shop around the corner from Hob’s flat. In exactly seventy-four minutes, Hob would be home for tea, and they were, inexplicably, entirely out of jam, which meant that he could not have jam on toast for tea, and that was entirely unacceptable. 

To Hob’s unending surprise, Morpheus liked the shop, just as he liked the park at noon when all manner of people were milling about, and the pub of an evening when it was full and loud and bright. He did not want to speak with people, but he wanted to be within them, surrounded by them, the rise and fall of their voices, and Hob hadn’t asked him why. He had, instead, shown him a website dedicated to ambient noise, and told him that he could have the coffee shop in the flat all day if he wanted, if that was what he liked. 

Morpheus was standing in front of the shelves dedicated to all manner of spreads, contemplating the relative merits of strawberry (a known quantity, which he liked very much) or red currant (unknown, untested, but also free of any bits, which he disliked very much, and red, which was a promising color when it came to foods), when he reached for a jar to peer at it up close, and instead met the hand of the shopper beside him, who had crept up without his awareness and reached for the exact same jar at the exact same moment. 

He withdrew his hand, out of courtesy, and began to offer an apology as the woman beside him did the same, and neither of them kept hold of the jar, which fell, end over end, until it landed with a very final sounding smash at their feet. The woman stepped back with a small cry of alarm, and Morpheus stood, as if rooted to the very ground itself, and contemplated the slightly wobbling red mess in front of him. Vaguely, he was aware of the woman stepping to the end of the aisle to catch the attention of a shop worker, who would undoubtedly gather cleaning supplies and in fifteen minutes, it would be as if it had never happened at all. 

There was a scent, a cloying sweetness that rose from the shattered remains of the jam jar, a scent that Morpheus was unsure anyone else had noticed, or that was perhaps unique to him as he stood, still and unmoving, a buzzing in his ears, like the whine of a particularly persistent fly, and he moved his hand as if to shoo it away and clean up the mess besides only to blink and see—

Viscera, deep and red as rubies; he was walking through a field of carnage, each step staining him further, gore working its way over his feet to his ankles—why had they bled? they were never flesh and blood (but that was a lie, a lie he told himself again and again and again—they had been flesh and blood to him) and he was walking towards the end of all things, or maybe just the end of himself, and it was quiet, so quiet, an unearthly silence so vast that it nearly swallowed him whole and he felt it, a physical thing, the shattering of all that he was, all that he was ever meant to be, but it hurt less than he thought it might, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought it was over, the power gone, until—he had never felt so hollow, and he tried to reach out, to feel the warm familiarity of uncountable minds of his creation and those entirely independent of himself, human and creature alike, and found only an unending void, he had thought it quiet before but this, this was true nothingness, an abyss in which there was only him, and him alone and he was nothing, nothing, nothing at all—

“—all right, duck? Just a bit of jam on your boots and trousers, nothing that won’t wipe right off, I’m sure, and no staining to worry about, not with that very sensible black, hides a world of sin, doesn’t it?” 

The woman was standing near him, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from her, and once, he would have known her name. She was not touching him, only hovering a hand quite near him, as she continued, voice even more gentle. 

“Let’s just step to the side, and we can get out of everyone’s way while they clean up.” 

For one horrible, painful moment, he thought she might say more, might even offer to call someone for him, the look in her eyes well-meaning, but horribly perceptive. He could not bear to be seen. It was enough to jolt him into motion, and he nodded, somewhat stiffly, and moved away from the puddle of jam. The arrival of the shop worker, complete with cleaning supplies, distracted the woman long enough for Morpheus to enact his escape, abandoning any thoughts of tea or toast as he made his way, with single minded determination, back to the flat.

It was too quiet on his walk back, and it was too quiet inside the flat, the soft tick of the clock on the mantle and the gentle hum of the refrigerator not enough, never enough. Hob would be home in fifty-three minutes, and it was not enough. 

He burnt the paper in the sink, watching it crumble in on itself and smolder into ash, not knowing if it would even work, being as he was. Morpheus waited, hands gripping the cold porcelain of the sink, his knuckles nearly white enough to match. She would understand, his sister. She would know what it was like. She could tell him what to do, how to live, now, that he was apart from the only piece of himself that he had ever cared for, no matter how imperfectly he had done so. He could not abide being so terribly, horribly alone, with only the sound of his own voice in his head to keep him company. There was no consciousness within him, save for his own. 

Morpheus did not hear her enter the flat. She had always been so good at silence, slipping into spaces like smoke. Her hand, when she laid it over his own, was slightly clammy, and so painfully familiar that it made his chest ache. 

“Brother,” she said, and he tried to speak, to greet her in return, but found that he could not force the words past his lips. She would know, he thought, she would understand. 

She led him to the couch, pulling him to sit beside her, and Despair enfolded Morpheus in her arms. 

[xjulixred45x]

We need more Yandere females damn it. I hope I am not too late to ask. I can request for a Yandere Nobara drabbles wherein she drags reader around the shopping district dressing them up to her hearts content

YEEEESSSS NOBARA MY QUEEN!!

Yandere Nobara Kugisaki x Reader: Dress up Darling

Don't look at anyone in particular...don't talk to anyone too long...don't smile in public, don't talk in public...not until she arrives.

is what reader repeated to herself, while waiting for her "girlfriend" in one of the department stores that she frequented while she went to get them some food.

A part of her felt like she should be grateful for the time alone, since Nobara tended to be a bit...overwhelming whenever they got together for this type of date (shopping for clothes, thanks to Kugisaki's interest in fashion AND her partner. ) but reader knew better.

The only thing more deceptive than Nobara's carefree attitude was the false sense of security and freedom it gave.

reader was well aware of the darker side of her "partner", even without having done anything excessive, even without having hurt her, Nobara found ways to make her see the extremes she would go to to reach her...

including going after the people she loved.

Therefore, reader was forced to be the mediator, the one who brought peace, to the displeasure of her family and the joy of Nobara. She was as accommodating as possible with her to avoid incidents, but she also gave her opinion. She tried to give sweet and "romantic" gestures of her own but that were genuine to a certain extent.

and most importantly, she made it clear that she only had eyes for Nobara. nobody else. That way no one would get hurt. It was the best way to handle the situation.

and Nobara was obviously thrilled with this. It was the closest thing she had to a "normal" relationship with her beloved and she didn't even have to resort to more brutal methods. She was HAPPY with this.

To be honest, if Nobara had not shown this darker side of her, reader would have seriously considered getting involved with her.

There were good moments between them. Nobara was overwhelming, yes, but the constant attention and affection was something new and even...flattering to a certain extent.

These types of dates, the clothing ones, although they were also so that Nobara could dress her in nice clothes, also felt like a moment to feel good about herself, because Kugisaki showered her with compliments and nice words about how she looked. It made her feel...good in a way.

It was so strange, and sick.

-"Hey cutie! Did you see something you liked? We can go see it when you finish eating"-

Looking at things in retrospect, if no one said it, both of them just seemed like a couple of normal girlfriends rather than a stalker forcing her victim to be one. and sometimes that was the difficult part, pretending that it wasn't like that.

Nobara took the reader to eat in one of the corners of the square with fewer people and simply watched her eat (it seems like she already ate on the way to the store?) with a smile on her face. To Reader disconfort.

Once she finished, she began what, for Nobara, was the "real fun", dressing her up.

Nobara took her to the little store that reader had been "browsing" and picked out some clothes that she thought would look good on her "girlfriend" while reader did the same for Nobara. It was a part of this custom that always made reader nervous, because although Nobara was never angry with any of her choices, she was not as knowledgeable about fashion as Kugisaki, she was afraid of causing some bad moment.

Normally the outfits that Nobara chose for reader were pretty cute or pastel things, with the occasional urban touch, it wasn't what reader would normally wear, but she couldn't say that she didn't look good.

Every time Nobara saw her in a new outfit she would clap lightly while saying things like:

-"You look absolutely adorable!"- or -"You look beautiful baby!"- things like that.

and no matter how many times they had done this, reader was surprised at how Nobara seemed to genuinely like the clothing options she had chosen for her, even going so far as to wear them on later dates or give her kisses on the cheeks every time she gave her one...

At the end of the day, as usual, they ended up carrying more bags than they could carry, and Nobara called this friend of hers (Yuji?) to do it for her, threatening him that she would gouge out his eyes if he looked at reader or He dropped some of the items she bought for her.

At this point, reader did not know if it was a mere exaggeration between colleagues or a fortuitous threat.

She only knew that this relationship was more fucked up than she thought. Because everything wasn't so bad after all.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Fair warning, after this i'm gonna get some drabbles from HADES bc i got a new obsession. But this was real fun to write!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

[munsonthings86]

angels and demons

pairing: modern!eddie munson x fem!reader [also rockstar!eddie munson]

summary: who knew corroded coffin's eddie munson had a thing for his publicist's best friend? and who knew she felt the same way toward him?

warnings: "feminine" terms used, a bit of a slow burn, cursing, alcohol, marijuana, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, dirty smut, public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, degradation, praise, switch!eddie, switch!reader, no protection (use protection pls)

an: haven't written a fic in over four years but it's 2023 and this man still has a hold on me. so naturally, I decided to revamp and finish this fic that was collecting dust in my drafts. don't copy my shit seeing as it literally took me years to finish. minors dni. everyone else, enjoy.

wc: 11.6k [whoops]

Brushing through the ends of my hair, weeding out the remaining tangles, I kept my attention fixed on my close companion, Avery, as she yammered and rambled on, mainly pertaining to her exhilaration at her birthday ultimately making its arrival after enduring a seemingly endless year. 

Working as a well-trusted publicist (doubling as a musician in her downtime), she spent the better part of her days ensuring and upholding the positive reputation of some even the most questionable celebrities. 

Though she only entered the field due to her long-lived obsession with the enigmatic, fast-paced celebrity lifestyle, Avery had a deep desire to be the best at her job, rarely delegating time off to care for herself. This was the one time of the year she was free to loosen up, let her hair down, and be the wild spirit she truly was. 

She’d exhausted much of her time and patience into planning the celebration, ensuring that no detail was left overlooked. 

Perched beside me, she gently caressed a small makeup brush dusted with powder of a petal pink hue across her eyelid. She subconsciously bounced her leg high and low, and an obvious bearing of anxiety painted an unpleasant expression along her features. I soon took notice, resting a comforting hand against her shoulder. “Don’t be so nervous, everything will go as planned. We’ll have tons of fun,” I assured, offering a small smile. 

“Thanks, [Y/N]. I just always get nervous about these things. But, yes, we will have tons of fun. Especially you, baby,” she smirks at her own sneakiness. Avery quickly glances at me, throwing a side eye to observe my reaction. 

She’d been making sly comments since we’d begun getting ready together, about my impending enjoyment at the party. “Why do you keep doing that? Making those comments? You’re not telling me something, I can tell. You’ve been a bad liar since we were kids,” I reply, returning a face of suspicion. 

 “Me? Up to something? I don’t think so. Maybe you’re just reading into it too much.” Avery’s eyelids meet quickly before she sprays a mist of setting spray across the surface of her face, using a folding fan to dry her skin of any excess fluid. She runs her slender fingers through her highlighted locks, taking final looks at herself before leaving. 

Truthfully, it was nearing two hours since the party actually commenced, but with Avery being who she was, she felt as though being fashionably late was a complete must. 

And with me being her right hand, I was compelled to be unreasonably tardy with her. 

Avery and I strolled over to the full body mirror mounted on the bedroom’s door, gussying ourselves up, adjusting anything that seemed to be out of place with our appearances.

Avery had a monochromatic outfit of white; a white leather top adorned with a matching skirt covering very little of her body, with white thigh-high boots protecting most of her legs, and a pale lengthy jacket draping her shoulders. She occupied her hand with a small purse, throwing thin black shades over her eyes. 

I wore the same style of monochromacy, sporting a candy red velvet cropped tank top, with bellbottom pants of the same material and hue to match. Red chunky platform heels failed to cover much of my feet and my hair sat in place with the help of red hair pins as accessories. 

Avery chose the theme of her party to be ‘angels and demons’, urging her invitees to dress in either red or white, depending on which they wanted to be. 

She captures multiple pictures of us posing in the mirror for her social media to post later on into the night, avoiding a premature reveal of our outfits for those attending the party, who were still awaiting our arrival. “Come on, babes. Let’s not keep them waiting anymore,” she spoke after saving the images and shoving her phone into her purse. 

“You’re telling me,” I rolled my eyes, following her out the entrance. I tread behind Avery down the walkway of the house, carefully, considering my unfamiliarity with wearing heels. 

Entering the colossal, midnight-colored Cadillac Escapade Avery rented for the special night, we gave the incredibly patient chauffeur a signal to navigate us to the nightclub. The car slightly shakes after he turns the key in the ignition, switching on the engine. 

I wrap the material of the seatbelt around myself, securing my frame to the seat. Avery mimics my actions, peering at me with a sly grin, subsequently. “Oh my gosh, Avery, what are you hiding? You have that look on your face,” I spoke, staring at her doubtfully. 

An over-exaggerated expression of dismay morphs her features in reaction to my utterance. “Why do you keep thinking I’m hiding something from you? I’m just doing me,” she laughs, scrolling through her phone, before replying to a text. 

“Who’s that,” I ask jokingly, using my fingers to form imaginary binoculars around my eyes, slightly leaning closer. She hurriedly jerks her phone away, out of my sight. “See! I knew you were lying. I always know when you’re plotting something. Now tell me, what is it,” I asked, not letting up on my intense glare. 

“Fine, you caught me! But I’m still not saying a word. You’ll just have to find out when we get there,” she replies, maintaining secrecy. “I hate you,” I retort, shaking my head, starting to explore my phone as well. 

“Oh, trust me. You’ll be loving me in a minute,” she smiles a wide toothy grin, returning to her phone as I roll my eyes. 

The car ride to the hotspot was a rather brief one at the expense of Avery living not too far out from the city, where all the popular clubs of the area were based. Fans and tourists began to congest the streets, jumping in eagerness upon witnessing the immense luxury vehicle arrive. Nearly everyone had their phones glued to their hands, ready to snap pictures and record videos of the birthday girl’s emergence. 

The chauffeur was the first to exit the vehicle, unlocking the car door to the right, where I was seated, in order for Avery to crawl out behind me to create suspense.

The door opens as warm air noticeably invades the rather brisk draft in the vehicle, and I step out causing a majority of the crowd to hoot and holler due to their familiarity with me. I politely wave and smile at everyone, still not accustomed to the vast amount of attention I’d received. 

The screams of elation and adoration are nothing less than amplified when Avery appears, beaming from one ear to the other. She walks closer to the gathering, leaving them with hugs and kisses in thank you for their support. Meanwhile, I gave my best attempt in avoiding eye contact with the mob, as the bright lights from their cameras made it difficult for my eyes to focus. 

“Thank you for the birthday wishes, everyone,” Avery yelled for everyone to be able to hear, blowing kisses to the rest of the crowd who she didn’t have the opportunity to meet with. 

It was a mystery how this many people, who didn’t receive a formal invitation, discovered the location of Avery’s celebration, seeing as it was never disclosed on social media by either of us. Or anyone on the invite list, for that matter.

Avery always believed I was only teasing when I theorized that her supporters would excel being undercover detectives based on just how instantaneously they were able to piece things together, but maybe now she’d start actually believing it herself. 

I tapped Avery lightly, signaling to her that it was time for us to go inside. She says her final goodbyes to the sea of people outside, locking her arm through mine, the both of us striding inside the already electric building. 

[Eddie’s POV]

Gareth, my close friend, and I sat at the bar of the nightclub our publicist, Avery, invited us to, to celebrate her highly anticipated birthday. We, more so I, had ordered drinks to loosen ourselves up considering how apprehensive we normally became attending parties. If I was being utterly transparent, I’d admit that I was only accompanying Gareth along with the rest of Corroded Coffin, simply to meet Avery’s close friend, [Y/N]. 

Never was I capable of deciphering my infatuation with her, but that’s exactly what was drawing me closer to her. Her mystery, her nature, her mannerisms, her attitude, her body, was a drug in disguise and each time that I looked at or even thought about her, I became more addicted. And the only rehabilitation was to get my first dose.

I was aware of how improper it was to feel such emotions towards someone that I’d never formally met, but like I said, I’m incapable of controlling or explaining it. 

The sound of thunderous applause and shouts make it difficult for my thoughts to not be disrupted, somewhat making me displeased, but that was abruptly reformed into ample pleasure at the sight of her. My brain configured an illusion of everyone and everything in the room becoming blurry but keeping her so distinct, so clear. 

The way her hips moved with every step she took. The way her clothes clung onto her silky, glowing skin. Even the way she slightly bit her lip as she smiled. Everything about her was so enticing. 

My forearm jerked forward at the contact of Gareth’s elbow nudging mine, attaining my attention. Quickly glancing at him, then at the rest of the applauding attendees, I follow suit and cheer Avery on, but keeping my eyes fixed on [Y/N]. She shyly smiled and waved at those who took the time to acknowledge her, letting Avery consume the spotlight. 

As she began closing the distance between us, greeting those around her, her eyes met my brown ones before I felt a rush of heat proliferate within me. She seemed to have been staggered upon noticing my presence, but my subconscious gave the impression to be ignorant to it, as I sensed the tension in my body heighten. 

She looked frantic as she stumbled her way back to Avery’s side, agitatedly whispering in her ear about what seemed to be my attendance. Her fingers moved analogous to that she was playing a piano that wasn’t there, a nervous tendency I’d observed she had. Avery scanned her eyes across the herd of people in my proximity until her pupils landed on me before a smirk crept onto her face in satisfaction. 

She messaged me earlier, nearly begging me to attend the party, to which I denied on multiple occasions. Upon putting full thought on the subject, I inquired about [Y/N]’s possible appearance, deciding that I’d only go if she would as well. And already, before the night has even had the chance to begin, I was enjoying myself. 

“You’ve got to stop looking at her like that, Eddie,” Gareth commented, shaking his head, almost disappointedly at me. I softly chuckled at him and took another swig of the beer in the glass cup before replying. “Looking at her like what?”

He returns my questions with a knowing look, “Like you want to eat her.”

“I kinda do.”

[Y/N]’s POV]

A sudden wave of uneasiness washes over me, as butterflies in my stomach began to flutter about, upon my eyes meeting his own. Only Avery knew of my slight obsession with him and taking into consideration just how much Eddie was reluctant to attend parties, I conspired that this had to have been Avery’s doing. I stumbled my way over to her side, pulling her closer to me to avoid bystanders possibly eavesdropping. 

“Avery, why is Eddie Munson here? And more importantly, why didn’t you tell me about it? You said none of your clients were gonna be here,” I whispered, agitatedly. 

Her eyes scanned through the cluster of people in our area, until they landed on Eddie, a smirk crawling its way onto her face. My fingers wiggle about, as it was a nervous mannerism of mine before I used them to poke Avery to get her to stop drawing Eddie’s attention our way, though I seemed to be doing that all on my own. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed his attentiveness shift to his bandmate who’d begun conversing with him.

“Oh, come on, don’t act mad. You’ve been practically obsessed with him for so long now. Even before he became one of my clients. This may seem bad to you, but trust me, this is a blessing in disguise. Actually, it isn’t in disguise at all, I mean do you see him? That man is so pretty. You better get him before I do,” Avery teased, taking a sip of whatever drink it was she had in her cup. 

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve dressed way better,” I said, wistfully, lowering my eyes to my feet. 

“Girl, you look amazing. With you looking like that, he’ll be all over you tonight,” she winked at me before her eyes grew wide. “Alright, be cool. He’s coming over here.” 

“Bitch, what,” I whispered forcefully as full-fledged panic invaded my body, running from my head down to my painted toes. Smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on my pants, I let out a short breath, giving Avery a nervous smile, turning to meet Eddie. 

Words escape my brain as I nearly bump into him, drunk partygoers’ uncoordinated stumbling along to the loud music nudging our bodies closer together. His warm, glossy brown eyes bore into mine, eyelids low from what I presume is caused by marijuana and alcohol intoxication. His wild curly hair drapes over his shoulders, perfectly framing his face as he stares at me, lips slightly parted. Fiddling with the bulky silver rings consuming his fingers, which I soon become distracted by, he flashes a smile, extending a friendly hand. 

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” his calloused fingers softly scratch against mine as he shakes my hand. “You must be [Y/N].” I furrow my eyebrows, perplexed as to how he knew my name and general existence. I was more than aware of the fact that Eddie had a dislike for social media and had no known public accounts; information that I later thanked Avery for acquiring. Unless Avery had been in Eddie’s ear acting as my wing-woman, there really was no other explanation as to how he knew of me. 

Looking back at Avery tight-lipped, knowing that my theory of her attempting to play cupid was not just merely suspicions but instead reality, she shrugs, smiling before taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah,” I awkwardly smile, dusting my hands off on my clothes.

Normally, conversation came easily to me. Rarely did I ever find myself speechless. But with Eddie standing inches away from me, wavy bangs curtaining his eyes, red leather jacket thrown over a white shirt that left his happy trail exposed, and a prodigious belt holding up tight black pants that left little to the imagination, it was practically impossible to conjure up a coherent sentence. 

My eyes trail from his doe eyes to the short stubble growing on his chin, down to the pearl necklace clasped firmly around his slender neck along with several other lower hanging silver necklaces, one that held a black guitar pick with white lettering, ‘CC’. Corroded Coffin, I presume. There, a conversation starter. “You play for Corroded Coffin, right?”

“Yeah, for my whole life basically. Feels like yesterday we were playing for our middle school talent show. I play lead guitar, sing a few of our songs,” he smiles, crossing his arms across his chest. I know, trust me I know is what I’m desperate to say. I definitely was not ignorant of Eddie or his talents. 

“I’ve heard some of you guys’ music before. Good stuff. Great stuff,” I blink, evading eye contact as if Eddie was Medusa himself. Truthfully, that’s who he might as well be. The moment my eyes meet his, I’ll freeze, forgetting how to function, essentially turning into stone. 

From what the corner of my eye is able to make out, Eddie’s features only brighten at my compliment, yelling over the music, “Thanks, I didn’t take you for a metalhead.” 

“Oh, yeah. You know. Big fan,” I mentally slap my forehead, wanting needing nothing more than to be put out of my misery. God, could I be more awkward? I need a drink. ASAP. 

My body is now at the mercy of the crowd, the tempo of the music increasing, causing everyone to pick up their pace as well, shoving whoever wasn’t dancing out of the way. A visible look of frustration and discomfort contorts my face, the dead middle of the dance floor being my least favorite spot at parties. 

“Hey, do you wanna come meet the guys? It’s a little quieter in our section,” Eddie points over to the lounge area, recognizing my distress at the position I found myself in. I peer over my shoulder towards Avery who I notice has wandered off to greet some of her guests. Closing my eyes, I muster up the courage to accept his offer before turning to face him again. 

“Sure.”

He smiles contentedly, extending his hand once again, though this time, it’s not for me to shake. It’s to hold as he navigates us through the busy crowd. Though I hesitate at first only because I know my hands are sweaty, I lay my hand in his own. It’s a warm and firm grip, a safe and almost familiar feeling, like a good hug on a bad day. Sweaty bodies crash into ours as we cut through the mob, the sight of the lounge looking like a haven in this chaotic atmosphere. 

“Boys, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N] meet Gareth our drummer, Jeff, electric guitarist, and Grant, he plays electric bass,” Eddie points them out, leading me up the stairs to the seating area, security guards lining the perimeter. 

Politely waving at the men who were either busy rolling blunts or sipping their drinks, I smile, mildly starstruck, “Hi. I was telling Eddie I’m a fan of you guys’ music.” 

Mumbles of gratitude are barely heard over the thumping music but nonetheless well received. Already nervous with Eddie’s presence alone, I was predominantly satisfied that his bandmates were too intoxicated to conduct a conversation themselves. 

Perching on the black, plush sectional couch, I cross my legs as Eddie plops himself down next to me, our knees slightly grazing each other. 

[Eddie’s POV]

The bare skin of my knee peeking out from my ripped jeans kisses the soft velvet material of the flared pants perfectly hugging her legs. The accidental touch somehow creates more tension in my body, if that were even possible. Clouds of smoke from the multiple joints going in rotation fill the air, blurring her features as the vapor crawls its way in our direction, causing me to slightly frown. 

I wave a hand, banishing the smoke from near her before speaking, “Sorry about that. My bandmates seem to forget their manners when we’re out.” A disapproving side eye is all I throw their way prior to diverting my gaze back to her as she lets out a small laugh. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips relieved that my uncouth friends weren’t a bother to her. Running my hands over my knees, I watch the lights from the oscillating ceiling lamps ghost over her, illuminating her delicate skin. 

She surveyed the party, eyes smiling from her cheeks once she spotted her friend dancing wildly near the bar where I previously sat. Her long eyelashes fanned her cheeks with each slow blink she made, pupils lit brighter than any light in the room. While watching Avery enjoy herself, her plump, glossed lips were caught in a wide, unfaltering smile that made my chest tight. She was truly beautiful. 

Catching myself staring at her, shamelessly indulging in her unfair beauty, I quickly lick my lips upon finding that they’ve run dry. “She talks about you a lot, you know. Avery,” I nod my head back in her direction, keeping my eyes fixed on [Y/N]. 

“Yeah?” she questions, shifting her warm gaze back to me; a gaze so warm it makes me melt. I furrow my eyebrows, grinning, “Hell yeah! She’s like a proud mom showin’ off her kids’ art projects. Has pictures of you two in her office and everything.” 

[Y/N] glances down at her feet, a shy yet amused expression pulling at her visage. “Does that surprise you?” 

"No,” she responds, shaking her head hurriedly. “I mean, I guess it doesn’t. We’ve been friends for what feels like forever. We’re sisters, basically, attached at the hip.” I chuckle, recalling Avery saying something very similar to that in the text messages she sent earlier. 

She’s my sister, Munson. If you mess this up, that’ll be the end of you. 

Sitting so close to [Y/N] now, listening to her talk, breathing in her fruity perfume that purified the air every time she made the slightest movement, I’ll do everything in my power to not mess this up. I’ll be damned if I do. 

“Do you have someone like that?” she asks, carefully adjusting her body to properly face me. Following suit, I rest my elbow on the back of the couch, anchoring my leg in the space between us, clasping my fingers. “Uh,” I begin, poking my cheek with my tongue, beginning to laugh. 

“There’s this kid, met him in high school. Total butthead,” I chuckle, toying with my rings. 

“His name’s Dustin, we played a lot of D&D together. Since I’ve kinda had to move around with the band in recent years and he’s in his second year of college, we haven’t been able to hang out like we used to. But I always joke that he’s basically my kid. He actually called me a few nights ago asking me and the guys to come perform at his school.” 

Listening attentively, she raises her eyebrows, “Yeah? Are you gonna do it?” 

“I actually told him no, just to mess with him,” I joke, earning a laugh from her, the sound filling my ears and body with great fervor. Cute laugh. “But yeah, I’m definitely gonna do it, try to surprise him or somethin’.”

“That’s great,” she smiles. “Sounds like you two are close. It must be hard not being able to be with some of your friends and having to tour constantly, but I’m sure there are upsides.” 

“Oh yeah, definitely. Ever since I picked up a guitar for the first time, I knew that just playing music every night in front of thousands of people was what I wanted to do,” I reply happily, finally being able to talk about my passion and those who were important to me with someone I was interested in. 

Being in the limelight, it was too easy to get used to groupies and opportunists who weren’t truly interested in who I was as a person. All it ever felt like was what pleasure could I bring to them. What they could take advantage of. How they could manipulate me. [Y/N] was the breath of fresh air I’ve been craving in this polluted Hollywood lifestyle. 

“Now your dream's a reality,” she reassures. 

“That it is. Now tell me about you; I heard you’re a fashion designer,” I poke at her arm, beaming down at her. Her cheeks flush as she breaks eye contact, pulling at the fabric of her clothes. 

“I’d hardly call it that. I just make and sell clothes for whoever’s crazy enough to buy them,” she chuckles shyly. Stray hairs find asylum against the skin of her cheek, and I have to fight the urge to tuck them away. They almost distract me before she continues. 

“It took me forever just to make Avery and I’s outfits for tonight. Had it been someone else asking me to design it, I probably would have given up. Donatella Versace, Christian Dior- they are fashion designers. And I am not them.” A rather serious expression calls for my face to distort. 

“Hey, go easy. Comparing yourself to people has never worked out well for anyone. I haven’t known you for more than an hour but I’m sure you’re great at what you do. I mean, the proof is there,” I point at her. “If you’re serious about making the outfits, you did a damn good job.” 

“Yeah?” she smiles. 

“Definitely. I mean, I dig the all red. You look like a little Hellfire demon,” I bite my lip, surprising myself with how loud I was talking, as Grant and Jeff laugh knowingly. 

However, [Y/N] remained adorably clueless, “What’s Hellfire?” 

“Eh, another story for another day. But I’m serious. I might have to hire you to design some of our threads for our gigs coming up. Lord knows these fashionistas need your help,” I laugh, mumbling the last bit to her, causing the sweetest giggle to pass her lips. Cute laugh. 

“Cute laugh,” my brain thinks, and my lips speak all at once. The filter between thought and actual verbalization had come crashing down in that very moment, unapologetically. 

I curse myself mentally, afraid that she’d think I was being too forward, though I’d be in no position to blame her if she did. Much to my surprise, like earlier, her smile is unfaltering as she responds, “You think so?”

I return that same smile, nodding, eyes squinted in delight, “Cute everything.” 

[Y/N’s POV]

Just like that, I’m sure my face is as red, if not, even redder than a tomato. Eddie was not at all what I thought he’d be. 

With him being a well-known rockstar whose popularity was only increasing by the minute, I had no reservations he’d be an egotistical nightmare, expecting everything and everyone to fall at his feet. Surprisingly he’s done nothing but be agonizingly sweet and a perfect gentleman, adding to his attractiveness. 

Constantly dealing with arrogant people who were famous, or worse, thought they were famous, had led to some degree of emotional damage. Eddie was refreshing. 

“Thanks,” I hum, trapping a small part of my bottom lip between my teeth, once again avoiding eye contact at all costs. The little bit of courage I’d built up over the course of our conversation crumbled at his compliment, words ultimately escaping me though many thoughts were circulating in my mind haphazardly. 

I’m again at his mercy, silently begging him to stop being so alluring but also needing him to continue doing just that. 

Before I realize I’m sitting silently, deep in thought, Eddie chimes in, “You doin’ alright there, princess?” 

God. Why’d you have to say that? 

Princess. I could practically feel my features soften at the term of endearment, the name sounding so heavenly and warm falling from Eddie’s lips. I shamelessly yearn to hear him say it again. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m glad you like the red.” 

“Yeah, I couldn’t help but notice you chose to go as a devil tonight,” he smirks, eyes scanning over my body. “Didn’t take you as anything other than angelic.” I’m not sure if it’s a pickup line, but it does a well enough job of sparking the tiniest bit of bravery in me. “I’m full of surprises,” returning his smirk, I gesture to his clothes. 

“But I see you have on red and white.” 

“Oh, would you look at that,” he teases, lifting the sides of his jacket, examining his attire. The action lures my eyes to fixate on his toned stomach, the white shirt that appeared to be cut with a pair of scissors hid much of his chest but little of his lower torso. 

Eddie wasn’t ripped, as he played guitar for a living. He didn’t have a six-pack or a chiseled ‘v’ line, but his stomach was rather firm and tight, sprinkled with small tattoos. 

“Can’t be both an angel and a devil,” I resume. 

“No?” 

“Nope. So, which one are you?” I implore, crossing my arms. He leans in impossibly closer, his breath, an aroma of beer and spearmint, fans the shell of my ear, “You’ll just have to find out, won't you?” He returns his head to its original position, sending a devilish grin my way, precious dimples making the loveliest indentations on his face. 

With my lips fallen open, goosebumps erupt along my arms and neck at his suggestive comment. He seems to take notice of the way my body reacts to cheekiness; the charming smirk plastered on his face triggers the butterflies in my stomach. Was Eddie Munson flirting with me? Or is he this flirtatious with everyone he came in contact with? 

Deep in the unruly mob, I spot Avery shoving through drunk and high individuals, some being both, gravitating towards the bar presumably to get herself another shot of her favorite liquor. A light bulb goes off in my mind. 

“I’m gonna take a shot with the birthday girl. Do you want anything from the bar?” I ask, uncrossing my legs. 

“I should be the one buying you drinks, don't you think? Chivalry isn’t quite dead yet,” Eddie retorts, leaning over in his seat to reach the glass table before us. He grabs rolling papers along with a grinder for his weed, beginning to roll himself a spliff. 

Rising from the couch, I laugh, beginning to descend the stairs leading to the main level, “Like I said, full of surprises. Besides I get free drinks tonight, being the birthday girl’s best friend and all.” 

Elbows resting on his knees, he hides the tip of the joint between his lips before igniting the other end with a chrome vintage lighter, seemingly engraved with his initials. It’s an effortless yet immensely captivating action, his eyebrows pulled together as he takes a slow pull. It takes everything in me to defeat the temptation to throw myself at him. 

“Well, aren't you a lucky girl,” he exhales, a trail of smoke escaping his lips. 

“So, what do you say? Drink? No drink?” 

“Nah, I’m alright, sweetheart. Don’t be gone too long,” he jokes, dusting off the building-up ash on his joint. Out of courtesy, he passes it to Jeff who blindly accepts. 

“Why? You gonna miss me?” I smirk, heels landing on the final step before strolling to where the alcohol resides. “Somethin’ like that,” he mutters under his breath, though Gareth hears this, snickering at how smitten his bandmate was. 

“Let me get a double shot of tequila,” I hear Avery yell over the bassy dance music thumping through the speakers. The bartender gives her a stiff nod, placing a large shot glass in front of her. 

“Make that two shots,” I add, sitting down next to her as she turns to face me. Her eyes grow wide as she anticipates all the gossip I have to offer. She looks over to where Eddie is sat, though she quickly diverts her eyes back to me, to which I assume is due to him already looking in our direction. 

I open my mouth, ready to unload everything that’s been said between me and Eddie during the time that’s elapsed. She stops me momentarily, however, picking up the tequila-harboring glasses that the bartender left for our indulgence. 

Throwing my head back, the alcohol burns the back of my throat to which I make a face as I’m not that much of a drinker. Avery on the other hand, takes the shot like a pro, barely flinching as she swallows, “Alright, hit me.” 

“Where do I begin?” I sigh, smiling nervously, “I mean, I don’t know, he seems sweet. Definitely not an asshole like some guys I’ve met, that’s for sure. I just can’t tell if he’s flirting with me because he likes me or if he’s flirting because that’s how he makes conversation.” 

“Well, he doesn’t flirt with me. I can tell you that much,” she counters, raising a hand, signaling for another drink. 

“That’s different, you’re his publicist,” I frown, swinging my legs that dangled from the stool I was perched on. The people I found myself dating in the past few months were either draining or deceitful, some a distasteful mixture of both and then some. I couldn’t imagine that a famous rockstar with the world at his fingertips was interested in me. 

Letting out a lingering sigh, Avery slides another shot my way, some alcohol flying out the glass and crashing onto the wood. She places both of her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to meet her gaze. 

I know she’s reading my mind, so easily being able to tell that insecurities were invading my brain, stopping me from going after something I wanted. “Listen, I’ve been in every setting imaginable with that guy, okay? And I’ve never seen him smile as much as he has while talking with you. He likes you. You like him. Now take that shot and let’s go dance.” 

Her sentiment draws my lips into a smile. She was truly my cheerleader whenever I needed the motivation. Furrowing my brows, I down my second shot, the warmth scattering through my chest. “Go dance? Shouldn’t I get back to Eddie?” I ask, silently thanking the bartender as I stand up. 

“You’ll reunite with your man soon, don’t worry. He’s been staring at you since you got over here. Let’s give him a show, yeah?” she smirks devilishly, wiping the dripping liquor from her pigmented lips. Catching her drift, I nod, grabbing her hand as I walk us to the dance floor. 

At the sight of Avery, people make room for us to migrate freely, as we find a comfortable, open spot to park ourselves and begin grooving to the music. Letting go of Avery’s hand, I move my head, slowly starting to feel the music. The warmth in my chest from the consecutive shots loosens my body, elevating my confidence. 

Though I tended to be a wallflower at parties, dancing with my best friend, liquid courage flowing through me, and oh-so-enticing Eddie Munson eyeing me, I’ve never felt more inclined to become possessed by the rhythm. 

The beat flows down into my shoulders as they begin to subconsciously move side to side, my hips following suit. I close my eyes, completely wallowing in the melody of the song blaring through the amplifiers. 

Give him a show. Avery’s words loiter in my head as I run my hands along my sides until they’re in the air, minds of their own. My body sways smoothly similar to a snake slithering its way to its prey. In this moment, Eddie Munson was my prey. 

I spin around, carefully, as I’m tipsy and in five-inch heels. Believe me, I would’ve chosen better shoes had I known that I’d be in this position, dancing my little heart out. Bodies collide with mine as everyone’s movements become wilder, the song transitioning to one of a higher pace. 

My hips compliment the music, rocking steadily before I feel someone else’s hip press against mine. I don’t even have to turn around before I know who it is; the satisfied look on Avery's face and the feeling of long, soft hair pressing against my skin serves as a good enough clue. 

“Miss me already?” my hips don’t stop moving, if anything, their movements deepen, grinding against him. 

“Hi angel,” he responds, the scent of the weed he just smoked staining his clothes. His hands rest just above my waist, testing the waters. Feeling the music too, he follows my rhythm swaying behind me. 

“No, I’m a devil, remember? See,” I point to my ensemble. “Hellfire demon,” I recall, giggling. 

He chuckles, amused, as his hands lower. I feel something firm prodding at the curve of my backside, the tightness of Eddie’s jeans not doing much to conceal his arousal. “You are right about one thing. You, little missy, are full of surprises.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” he nods slowly, resting his head on my shoulder, craning his neck to look into my eyes, weakening my knees. Though the lighting in the club is borderline nonexistent, Eddie’s eyes were close enough to mine that I could see his pupils were blown, eyes dark with desire. 

“You got any surprises for me?” I turn around to face him, immediately missing the way his hips felt against mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling his hair blanket my hands, he bites his lip, grinning before speaking. “A few.” 

“Show me,” the smile on my face drops, the need to be alone with him becoming overwhelming. The alcohol running through my veins did nothing to steady my increasing heart rate. The heat that was once in my chest traveled down between my thighs, as the arousal that Eddie was experiencing was more than reciprocated. 

Instead of a verbal response, his hands trail up my arm to my hand as he grasps it, pulling me to where the bathrooms were. I look back at Avery to alert her that I’d be gone for a bit, though she’s already well aware, giving me a thumbs up and sending me a wink. 

The hallways leading to the bathroom are lit brighter than any other area in the club, causing me to squint my eyes, trying to adjust to the light. The floors are a shiny, coal-black tile with walls of the same color, covered with intricate designs and patterns. 

“Shit,” he pauses, hitting a fork in the road. 

“What?” 

“Which one should we go in?” he asks, gesturing between the men’s and women’s bathrooms, stumped. Rolling my eyes and letting out a small chuckle, I push open the door to the women’s bathroom, expecting that it’s cleaner than the men's bathroom, which was almost always the case in any public establishment. 

Eddie follows closely behind me, shoving the door shut subsequently. His sneakers squeak against the tile floor as he hurriedly grips my waist, hoisting me onto the edge of the sink. It’s wet to the touch from people drunkenly washing their hands not too long ago, but I’m too captivated in the scene moment care. Flinging my arms around Eddie’s neck, ready to crash my lips against his own, he pulls away faintly. 

“Wait. Are you sure you wanna do this? I know you had a bit to drink,” he mentions, resting his hands on either side of me. His forehead is almost pressed against mine as my thumb strokes at the nape of his neck, at which his eyes flutter closed. 

Beaming up at him, I sweep his hair out of his face and over his shoulder. He allows my hand to linger on his cheek as I speak, “I promise, I’m okay. I’m a little tipsy, but I swear I want this. I want you.” 

I have for a while now is what my mouth wants to add as some sort of cherry on top, but not even the tequila or the heat of the moment could pull that out of me. 

I didn’t want to admit to Eddie that the thought of him had been wandering in my mind since I’d randomly come across his music about a few years ago. He had to deal with overzealous, obsessive fans on a regular basis and I didn't want to give him the impression that I was no different from them. 

“Do you wanna do this?” I whisper, lightly scratching at his scalp under my fingertips. He breathes out before fully allowing his forehead to fall onto mine. 

He finally opens his eyes, the gates of his eyelids slowly unveiling the tender and sultry pool of chocolate brown. “Of course, I do, I just wanna make sure you really want this,” he sighs as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. 

Eyes lowering, I notice Eddie’s lips are chapped. Not the kind of chapped that was uninviting and distasteful. The kind of chapped that was endearing; the kind that made me want to do nothing more than to wet them with my own. 

“I do,” I mumble against his mouth hurriedly, before drawing his head towards mine, our lips colliding. Eddie doesn’t hesitate, attacking my puckered lips with his ravenous ones. His head moves wildly, repeatedly switching sides to devour my lips from all angles, almost making it hard to keep up with him. My fingers get tangled in his jungle of hair while his tongue begins to nudge at mine. 

As our hands begin to mindlessly explore each other’s chests and stomachs, quiet moans escape our throats. My heels dig further into the back of Eddie’s thighs as his warm hands settle onto my neck, lightly squeezing. 

A deep groan rumbles from his chest at my hand snaking down his body, fingers dangerously lingering by his belt buckle. Much to my dismay, his lips abandon mine that are still starved, however, my disappointment is short-lived, as he peppers kisses along my cheek, venturing down to my neck. “You wanna know somethin’?” he mutters onto my skin, hand nor lips leaving the pulsing area. 

“What?” I sigh, as he begins gently tugging at the skin with his teeth, wrapping his lips around it shortly after. “You were turning me on so much dancing out there like that,” he answers, voice low. 

He kisses me again, this time with slow and calculated movements. His lips are still eager as are mine, but his actions are more sensual this time. More passionate. I take the risk, lowering my fingers to his growing erection if it could even grow any more-- how big it was. Responding just the way I wanted him to, he moans into my mouth, slightly grinding his hips into my hand. “Yeah?” I whisper, breathlessly. 

“Mhm,” he hums, slowly nodding his head while running his hands up and down my legs, kindling small shocks through me. His touch was so simple but so intimate, paying attention to every curve and crevice that made up my body. The beautiful sounds of pleasure leaving his glossy lips egg me on, encouraging me to speed up the work my hand was giving him. “Turning me on so much now,” he finishes, dropping his head back in rapture. 

Like a moth to a flame, I take advantage of the opportunity to sprinkle both small, soft pecks and heated, open-mouth kisses along one of the many prominent veins decorating his neck. His body reacts instinctively, as he groans, beginning to trace along the waistband of my pants. As if his body was a magnet, my hips chase him at the ticklish sensation, begging for some sort of relief. 

Feeling his erection throbbing in his jeans, my hands yank at his belt unapprovingly. I give his neck a break from my lips only to look down at his waist, desperately trying to free him from the constraints. His nose bumps mine harshly when he chases my lips, slipping his tongue into my mouth. 

Undoing the latch, he gets bored of walking the tightrope of my waistband, ultimately hooking his fingers over my pants, pulling them down to my ankles and over my heels. Goosebumps disrupt the smoothness of my skin as the crisp air filling the bathroom settles onto my bare legs. His belt falls with a soft clank, my discarded pants being a cushion for its soft landing. 

He smirks, amused at my black lace underwear, running a curious finger along the slit of my heat. It’s such a gentle, almost ghost-like touch that I would’ve missed had I not been intently watching him the way I was now. Unbuttoning and lowering the zipper to his pants, I grab him by one of the many loops along the waist of his pants, forcing his hips against mine.

Tightening my legs that clung together just below his torso, I grind my pelvis onto his erection, begging for some sort of friction. 

“Such a dirty fucking girl,” he smiles, hands blanketing my ass, guiding my hips that were shamelessly helping me relieve the tension I felt in my body. My moans are hard to suppress as his eyes don’t leave mine, mumbling quiet coaxes. 

“God, I can feel how wet you are,” he groans, “need to taste you, princess.” After I whisper a soft “please”, he stops my hips in place, ridding my needy core of my underwear, nearly tearing the flimsy fabric.

Freeing himself from the restraints of my legs, he kneels down, eyes meeting the place I needed him most. He wraps his strong arms around my thighs, throwing them over his shoulders. I can feel his hair tickling my inner thighs as he bites his lips hungrily, adjusting himself between my legs. 

My fingers find his scalp and tug lightly on the roots of his tresses when he starts planting quick pecks around my heat, teasing me. “I love how wet you are for me. Can’t wait to taste that pretty fucking pussy,” he smiles, eyes never leaving my sex. He wets his lips one more time until his eyes rest on mine, licking a solid stripe along the slit of my entrance. 

Pulling harder at his hair at the sudden sensation, I let out a loud moan as my eyes screwed shut. His tongue easily finds my clit, gently teasing and sucking at the small bud. With the way he squeezes tighter on my thighs, securing me in place, I’m sure bruises are to be left behind. I don’t mind though as I knew it would serve as a visual reminder of the way he could make me feel with only his tongue. 

As his movements against my clit begin to quicken, my thighs begin shaking and my moans are nothing but intensified. In any other given situation, I’d be more cautious of bystanders who had to listen to my sounds of pleasure, but with the breathtaking feeling of Eddie’s wet tongue devouring all of my most sensitive spots, it was incredibly hard to think straight. 

He pushes my legs back against my chest wanting to get a better angle at me. He nearly dedicates his entire face to pleasuring my core, nose poking at my clit, while his lips and tongue flick at my pussy. The only part of his face he leaves for my eyes to feast upon are his brown-turned-black lust-filled pupils. I yearn to keep our eyes connected but it's damn near impossible with the feeling of a knot building up in my stomach. 

“That feel good princess?” I nod my head urgently, feeling the vibrations from his speaking tickling my clit. I want to speak so that he could hear just how good he was making me feel, but I figure my moans could suffice. He smirks once I whine at his lips leaving my wetness.

His fingers replace where his mouth once was, rubbing slow circles along my clit, watching my face morph back into one of complete ecstasy. He trails his digits down to my hole, slipping them in without warning. 

As my thighs squeeze around his head as he repeatedly hits my G-spot with curled fingers, pushing me further to the edge. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie are the only words my lips are able to utter. His rings are cold but gradually warming up as he fucks me deep with his fingers. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he snickers, upon feeling my walls clenching around his fingers. 

“Yes, yes. Please let me cum. Please let me cum,” I beg, sensing the amount of pleasure I'm able to take being at its peak. He watches me intently as he slows his fingers down, leisurely dragging them from out of me. Frustrated, I drop my head back against the mirror, letting out a heavy sigh. I let go of his hair as he rises from the tiled ground, smiling apologetically, yet, mischievously at me. 

“I know, baby, I know. But I promise,” he kneads my thighs, pressing his lips onto mine, letting me taste myself on his lips. “I’m gonna take such good care of you,” he finishes, bringing his arousal-soaked fingers up to his mouth and licking them clean. 

Momentarily, my eyes fixate on the bathroom door that was carelessly unlocked, not much of a barrier between this impromptu dalliance and the unsuspecting clubgoers just a few feet away. Had it not been for the thumping music blaring from the speakers, people within a mile radius would have been able to detect my needy whimpers. 

I’m not too Eddie-drunk for it to click in my head that a person of Eddie’s status being caught in a moment like this could instantly be plastered on the internet and every news blog. If it were just me and some random guy, anyone would just turn heel and carry on, but Eddie being who he was, it wasn’t immediately obvious whether to take the risk or not. “Someone could see us,” I point with a limp finger, body still weak from being on the verge of release. 

Content with just how easy it was to practically ruin me with only his mouth and fingers, he grins before uttering, “I know. I don’t care. If I have to be seen like this, I wanna be seen like this with you.” 

A rush of heat goes to my cheeks at his words that seem genuine. I was accustomed to guys saying whatever they believed I wanted to hear just to get something they wanted out of me. But there was something so different about Eddie. His eyes glimmered with a golden light of sincerity and awe that even the darkest parts of my cynical heart couldn’t help but be illuminated by. 

“I can stop if you really-” 

Hooking my arm around his neck, I pull his head down to press my puckered lips against his own that were still mid-sentence. He couldn’t be more alluring like this. Being the perfect gentleman, easing the worries floating in my head, and treating me so well, was just the icing on the cake that was his personality and looks. Right now, the one thing on my mind was to treat him just as good. 

My hands rush to push his pants down and over his erection, leaving merely his ankles to be clothed by the black denim. His print is so obvious, so taunting that it leads me to palm his hard-on through his deliciously tight boxers, moaning into our passionate kiss as I feel how big he is.

His cock twitches at my fingers grazing over the covered skin of his tip which also lures a hearty groan out of Eddie’s lips. A dull cloud passes Eddie’s pupils as the golden light previously lighting up his eye dims, and he becomes blinded by a dark hue of lust. 

His arms work to rid themselves of his form-fitting leather jacket, letting it to the floor thoughtlessly, his shirt follows soon after. Hiking up my small crop top, his hands waste no time in cupping my breasts, perfectly squeezing and massaging its flesh. An amused expression befalls my flushed face at the way his moans and grunts of pleasure fall so heavily from his lips as my hand steadily rubs long, slow strokes at his length. 

“Oh, you like teasing me, huh?”  

Letting out a small laugh, I nod, responding, “Yeah.” His mouth latching onto one of my nipples interrupts me, my breath hitching in my throat at the sudden contact. “Turns me on s-so much hearing you moan like that,” I manage to choke out while two of his fingers toy with my lonely nipple that couldn’t yet feel the wonders of his tongue. 

“Yeah?” he takes my hands, placing them over my head and against the mirror, using his free hand to tug his boxers down. He groans, cock no longer being restricted by his underwear, and it's only then I notice the precum threatening to spill from his tip. It requires an immense amount of self-control to not reach down and spread it over the smoothness of his tip and shaft, but I manage. 

“I want you so bad, princess. Fuck,” he mumbles, taking a hold of himself to tap against my clit. My entrance begins to throb as if it could sense Eddie was near, so close to stretching me in all the best ways. “You want my cock to fill up your slutty little pussy?” 

I shake my head a desperate yes, whimpering. Snaking my legs around his waist in hopes of pulling him right into me, he clicks his tongue, tilting his head disapprovingly. “I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to hear you say it. Tell me you want my cock to stretch you so good until you can’t think of anything except me and what my cock is doin’ to you,” he drawls slipping only his tip inside of me, but just as fast as it enters, is just how fast it’s gone again.

He does this repeatedly as he patiently waits for my mind and lips to conjure something up. 

With the way the snarky grin tugging on his lips was unwavering, I could tell he got a rise out of teasing me. There was a way his voice deepened when he spoke such untamed things. A way his usual pleasant expression turned to that of a stoic one. It was such a stark difference from what I’d seen of his normal personality. This side of Eddie was just another side I was more than excited to explore and indulge in.

“Please, Eddie. I want you s-so bad. Want your cock inside me. Please, I wanna cum all over that cock. Pl-”

My mouth is still rambling, begging Eddie for some degree of relief before the words soon melt into loud whines of satisfaction at Eddie finally slipping into me fully, in all his length and girth glory. Eddie’s mouth falls open as his breath catches in his throat, feeling his cock slide in with ease. He traps his tongue in between his teeth hoping to conceal his moans but that ultimately fails him as I clench around him, inviting him in. 

Groaning, he rests his forehead against mine, never letting his eyes depart from mine that were struggling to stay open. He sighs, shaking his head before breathing out, “God, you’re so fucking wet, I just slip right in. Such a good little whore for me.” 

I let out a moan, though I’m not sure whether it was from his words or the slow, yet hard thrusts he was giving me. Nonetheless, it felt too good to keep quiet. Eddie takes his time with his movements, unhurriedly dragging his length out of my warmth before slamming his pelvis back into mine. It was toe-curling.

Above me, Eddie was babbling a string of curse words, tattoo-adorned chest heaving.

Each drive made his muscles flex, evoking the pads of my fingers to trace his freckled skin. Beads of sweat began to build a film on our skin, but as we kept bumping and rubbing and caressing, it grew difficult to tell whether it was my sweat or his making my skin slick. 

He traps one of my nipples between his teeth, delicately nibbling and sucking on the sensitive bud. I cup his head firmly against my chest as my vision blurs, eyelids sailing down. He curled his hips up in a way that made it too easy for him to hit my G-spot with every stroke. 

Echoes of our moans and eager bodies recklessly colliding were the only sounds I could hear anymore. Up in the heaven of bliss, anything that wasn’t Eddie faded into the void of my subconscious, seizing to exist. There was nothing outside of this moment. 

Eddie grips the side of my cheek, thumb pressed on the soft skin under my eye, peppering kisses on the bone of my jaw. As he nears the lobe of my ear, lips nudging my earrings, he stutters yes yes yes yes, plunging achingly deeper. Whimpers and mewls spill uncontrollably at the feeling of him stretching me so wide and deep. 

“You take my cock so well, baby,” he sighs, words scattered by his restless motions. “Such a slut for me, aren’t you?” 

“Fuck, fuck, fu-, fuck yes, yes, Eddie yes,” words stumble gracelessly past my lips as I become a dumb moaning mess on Eddie’s cock. His toasty hand exposes my cheek to the chillness of the air, as his fingers take the liberty of rubbing my clit. He uses two, maybe three (who cares it felt good all the same), of his digits to massage my core soothingly; a pace that was a wild contrast to the pace his hips were going. 

The mixture of pleasures makes the knot in my stomach unbearable as I grew desperate for a release. 

Doing my best to roll my hips against his, hoping to meet his thrusts, he looks at me smirking, well aware of what I was trying to do. “’M gonna cum soon. Please let me cum,” I plead, eyebrows furrowing. Eddie dives in for a kiss, lips salty with perspiration. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum, princess? You wanna cum all over my dick?” he asks, using both hands to grip my sides, slamming into me. 

Yes, yes. Please let me cum, Eddie. 

His glossy cock, drenched in my arousal throbbed and twitched as it brushed perfectly against my walls faithfully. He looked down at where our bodies connected, loving the way we made a mess out of each other. My arms wrap around his neck to pull him unavailingly nearer. Gripping the flesh of my ass and thighs, he lifts me slightly off the sink, rocking my hips along the length of his shaft, humping into me simultaneously. 

My moans turn into short gasps as I feel my descent into a pool of euphoria nearing. “That feels so fucking good. That feels so fuckin’ good,” I whine, running my nails across his back. With Eddie's hands sprawling my body, I became fully consumed by him. There was nothing that I could touch except Eddie, smell except Eddie, see, hear, and taste except Eddie. 

“Yeah?” he asks, voice wobbling. “God, you’re such a good fucking girl. Gonna cum so deep inside you. You deserve it, princess,” he rambles, palming one of my breasts as he uses his other hand to keep me steady once I regain control of my hips. We’re absolutely feral as our bodies grind and slam against each other, pathetically needy. 

Feeling my orgasm approach, I tighten around him, sleek walls squeezing him impossibly tighter. Eddie’s thrusts grow increasingly impatient, if that were even possible, as his strokes become shorter and less calculated. His body stutters and contracts from what I presume is his nearing release. 

“That pussy’s so wet and so tight for me. Fuck. I want you to cum. I need you to cum. Cum for me, baby,” he moans, fighting off his orgasm so he could watch mine, undistracted by his own. He gets a few more strokes in before my thighs start shaking, piercing moans flying out of my mouth. 

Fuck, Eddie. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, please. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonn- I’m cumming. Don’t stop. Fuck. It’s all just word vomit at this point. The only form of punctuation was my moans. 

“No, I won’t stop, baby. You’re doing so good for me. Cumming all over my cock so fucking pretty like that,” he replies, head falling into the crook of my neck. I feel like I’m floating as I start getting light-headed, riding out my peak. My mind’s foggy. The knot in my stomach is fully pulled undone much to Eddie’s amusement, as he kisses my neck, humming. 

 His body becomes weak as he feels his climax approaching, “Oh, fuck. You feel so good. Fuck. I’m gonna cum, baby.” He grunts, white ropes of thick, warm cum painting my stomach as he pulls out. Covered in my arousal, his cock is shiny like a trophy, giving a whole new meaning to the term ‘afterglow’. Exclaiming a plethora of swear words, Eddie’s face is drawn into an expression of pure bliss, a wide smile, making him look especially kissable. 

He’s breathing heavily as he slips himself back in, the euphoric sensation still lingering in his bones. Keen on devouring another one of his loads, my entrance contracts, as if it was panting hungrily, waiting to swallow him up again. He pulls air between clenched teeth as his sensitive shaft drags in and out, overstimulating the both of us. He’s greedy for another orgasm just as I am. 

“Oh, princess, you’re such a good girl for me. Fuck, I wanna cum again.” His thrusts speed up, rock-hard erection poking inside me at all the right spots. Mouth drying from all his rambling, he pants as his mind goes blank. 

“I wanna cum again, I wanna cum again, please. Please, please let me cum again,” he whines, greedy for another orgasm. It’s a complete 180 from how he was behaving just a few moments ago. Instead of grunting, he was whimpering. Instead of ramming into me, he was savoring me. Completely relishing at this moment. 

Please, please, please, fuck.

His eyes shut as he rambled, begging and whispering the naughtiest things, aching for his second release. All while his head was blocking an overhead lamp, casting a blond light around the perimeter of his mane, similar to that of a halo. I blinked up at him, pupils drinking him in. He looked so angelic like this. So perfect. 

Pulling him in by his pearl necklace, I smirk at him, loving the way he sounded begging me to allow him to cum. “So horny you wanna cum twice, huh? You need my pussy that bad?” 

“Yes, baby, I need your pussy. I need your pussy so bad. Let me cum again for you, please,” he asks, breath fanning my cheeks. His moans are soft and desperate, only quieting when he frowns at his cock slipping out. The warm and sticky composition of my arousal and cum proved to be better than any brand of lube. His mouth falls open, no sound emitting as he feels his climax approaching quicker than before. 

“Cum for me, baby. Yeah, cum for me,” I coo, as he pulls himself out, rapidly jerking his cock, a loud wet sound following his every stroke. His entire body reacts, twitching and shaking, as this orgasm is seemingly stronger than the one before. Sweat runs from his forehead, around the wrinkles of his shut eyes, before falling into another droplet of sweat drowning his tattoos. 

“Fuccck,” he strains, milking every last drop of cum from his tip. He chokes out a laugh, content. “Shit,” he grunts, eyes tracing my body, stopping at my core that was dripping in his load. 

He bites his lower lip, lugging his softening cock across my clit. “You’re so pretty like this. All fucked out and covered in my cum,” he sighs, hand moving down to my hips. He lowers himself down, back on his knees, pushing my legs up so that the face of my thigh met my nipple. “You gonna let me clean you up, baby?” 

“Yes, please, Eddie,” I breathe, gripping his hair as his tongue goes to work on my clit. Slurping on the sensitive button, he hums while he tastes his cum mixed with my own, presumably enjoying the elixir. He spreads me open, revealing my leaking core, plunging his tongue into my hole, and curling it when he got deep enough. 

His fingers find my clit and play with it, drawing out the most pornographic moans from me. His eyes pierce mine, gawking at the way my body squirmed and reacted so easily to him. He switches gears, using his tongue to lap up my juices while his fingers stir up the remaining wetness in me. I grind my waist to meet with his fingers, which causes the tip of his bulbous nose to be added to the equation. 

I whimper at my second climax calling. My body stutters as I clench his fingers. Gathering up his abandoned cum on my stomach, I suck on my fingers fancying in his flavor. 

“You’re so good, baby. I love the way moan for me.” His hands caress my body, tugging at my skin. I feel the vibration of the music rattling through my chest though I’m too engulfed in Eddie’s touch to be disturbed by it. 

“That’s it, yes. Just like that, baby. Cum for me,” he teases, noticing the way I tensed, and moans amplified. His fingers hit my G-spot perfectly into my orgasm as if they had maps telling them exactly where to go. My hips follow his tongue shamelessly as I ride the wave out, not wanting the feeling to end quite yet. My breasts quivering as I try to catch my breath, Eddie smiles bright and wide, lips glossy and swollen. 

“You did so good, princess, holy fuck,” he grins, planting his wet mouth on mine, letting me taste myself on him. I smile drowsily, mind empty yet so full of Eddie, “You too. I really liked that.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, picking up my pants and underwear, helping me get them back on, and breathing heavily. “I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles down at me, hair a wild mess thanks to my fingers constantly exploring it, sweat, and the natural high of sex, giving Eddie a look of pure satisfaction. I pull my clothes over me, afraid of the possibility of some drunk person stumbling in, though just a few seconds ago, that was the least of my worries. 

Looping the belt back into his pants as he threw them over his legs, Eddie slows his movements, an inner debate playing out in his head. “I meant what I said, you know.” 

My legs shake as I lower myself back onto the ground, knees wobbling like an infant learning how to walk for the first time. Redirecting the strands of my hair back into their rightful place, I glance over at him. “About?” 

“About wanting to be seen with you. After hanging out with you tonight, and you know, doing what we just did,” he laughs quickly, gesturing to the sink, before continuing, “I really like you, [Y/N].” 

I can’t help but smile at his shyness. He hides himself in his hair, distracting his hands by shrugging on his jacket, though I know with the way he was sweating, there was no chance he was cold. It baffled me how a person who exuded so much confidence in everything he did, got so timid around little old me. “I really like you too, Eddie,” I state, reaching to grab his hand. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” I giggle. 

A sigh of relief and a hand squeeze is what I get in return before he says, “Let me take you on a date, then. A real one. Please.” Is this even real life? It made me frown seeing how unsure of himself he was when he asked. 

“I’d love to,” I press my lips against his, kissing any lingering doubts away. He smiles into the kiss, taking a hold of my head between his two hands. It’s such a warm, comforting embrace. I could drift off to another land much more safe and happier, just like this. He places a peck on the tip of my nose as we separate. 

“Come on, let’s go dance,” I laugh, pulling him towards the door. “After you, m’lady,” he chuckles, opening the door for me. A perfect gentleman. 

We saunter down the hallway, the sound of the music unmuffling as we rejoin the celebration. I do my best to not obviously look like I just experienced two of my best orgasms ever. It was easy enough, though I knew had traces of Eddie still lingering on the skin of my tummy somewhere my eyes couldn’t see. 

I catch a glimpse of Avery at her favorite spot: the bar. Tapping Eddie’s shoulder, I let him know I’ll be back in a second, leaving him on the dancefloor as I make a path through the crowd toward my partner in crime. 

“Howdy,” I smile, widely. Avery clocks it immediately. 

“How was it?” she smirks, tapping her nails on the wood of the edge of her bar stool. Pretending to zip my lips with an imaginary zipper, she slaps my leg playfully, though she already knows keeping things from her was something I wasn’t capable of doing. She was my sister. Of course, I had to tell her. 

“I’ll tell you when we leave outta here,” I promise, calming her nosy nerves. “Oh, one thing that did come up though,” I begin. She perks up like a dog who just heard a noise. 

“What?” 

“Apparently, you have pictures of us all over your office,” I smirk. The color in her skin runs pale as she realizes she’s been caught. There’s been a running gag between us that we didn’t like each other as much as we let on. Though we both knew that wasn’t true and that we’d most likely end up staying in each other's lives until the end of time, it still was hilarious to tease each other. 

“Wanna tell me what that’s about?” 

She scans the crowd to find Eddie, scowling once she spots his conspicuous hair in the crowd. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” 

[naavispider]

Merciless - part 2

(Part 1 here)

In which John Mercer stops by Bridgehead during the events of ATWOW. When he hears of the human boy raised on Pandora with the natives, his curiosity gets the better of him.

The sound of his clunky footsteps echoed down the pristine corridor. John Mercer had never been down in this section of the RDA’s largest stronghold. It all looked the same as what he was used to however; the hallways and signage were presented in a similar layout, and the gleaming metal walls just barely reflected his determined gait as he made his way down to the boy’s cell.

Technically, he didn’t have clearance to be down here, but thankfully for him, years of service and being a veteran of Pandora meant he had fingers in a few very important pies. He stopped when he reached the sign displaying ‘Socorro, Miles’. 

He laughed to himself - Quaritch always did have an extremely large ego. How did he expect to keep it quiet that this was his boy with a name like that? He stopped short of the cell entrance, opting instead for the observation room next door. Stepping into the dark viewing space, his eyes took in the monitors and discarded notes, still attached to clipboards with coffee mug stains on them. He shook his head, marvelling at how amateur the whole operation was. 

Thankfully, no one else was here, so he took a seat behind the double sided mirror. 

It was quiet inside the cell. The boy was in a corner, sleeping with his head resting on his knees. The first thing Mercer noted was how big he was. From what he understood, the kid could only be around 16, yet he was larger than the average fully grown man. Even sitting down, it was obvious he was over six feet tall. And strong too. He was perfectly toned all over without an inch of excess body fat. He was probably in better shape than most athletes. 

Aside from the tarzan-style fashion choices, the boy looked like a formidable opponent in the field. Mercer glanced at the camera footage, playing on one of the monitors while the boy slept, which showed Socorro first being brought in. His suspicions about the boy’s strength were confirmed at the sight of four men struggling to drag him into the room. Socorro used every asset available to him to fight and resist his captors until he was eventually overcome by sheer force of manpower. Curious, Mercer fiddled around to unmute the footage. Had the boy developed language? Could he speak Na’vi or English? It would be interesting to get a glimpse into his psychological state. 

Socorro seemed to scream and shout a lot, most of it unintelligible. That was definitely an American accent though. Interesting. Even the youngest of his previous students never lost their Na’vi accents. Further evidence that the indigenous were less adaptable than humans due to their more constricted vocal chords. 

The tingling sense of excitement that Mercer hadn't felt in a long time started to return. Finding this boy was like finding a goldmine. It would be a complete and utter waste to use him for anything other than research purposes. There was no doubt in Mercer’s mind that the boy held the key to advancements for mankind. Maybe it would even be enough to rebuild his tattered reputation within the RDA and prove once more the worthiness of his projects. It was a sham how TAP ended, and Mercer wouldn’t be blamed for it for one more day. Socorro spelled redemption. 

A warm flare had sparked to life in Mercer’s belly, one he knew too well. It would grow and grow, burning in the background until it finally blazed hot down his veins. 

He took a deep breath, regaining some control over his runaway thoughts. He couldn’t get overexcited. Ardmore wasn’t budging, and neither would Colonel Quaritch. 

Just then, his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door clicking. He spun around to see a woman with brown hair wearing medical scrubs enter the dark room. 

“Oh! Sorry…” she said when she saw him, frowning in confusion at his presence.

“Don’t be.” He offered her a slick smile. “I’m only observing.”

“Right…” she still looked unsure as to why he was there, which perhaps explained why she hadn’t moved from the doorway. 

“Please, don’t let me get in your way.”

She entered hesitantly, bringing out a clipboard and viewing the boy from the mirrored glass. Her name badge told him her name was Janine. 

“Is he in good health?” he asked, suddenly concerned there was an unforeseen issue.

She sighed. “Generally, yes. The neuroscanner is taking its toll on him though.”

“What are the side effects?” 

“Headaches, nausea… that type of thing.”

“Anything permanent?”

She turned to look at him. For some reason, Mercer got the feeling that she was judging him. What for, he couldn’t possibly predict.

“No. Nothing permanent.”

The air suddenly became very still and cold between them. Satisfied that the boy wasn’t going to be permanently damaged by Ardmore’s interrogation techniques, he decided that stepping out and introducting himself was better than remaining here with the nurse with a stick up her ass.

As his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the corridor outside, he once more took in the strange sight of the half-naked, feral hybrid sitting behind the glass. 

“Miles?” he asked, his heart beating rather faster than usual. It felt strange to call him that. 

The boy’s head lifted from his knees, and Mercer had to contain his gasp. Miles’s brow was furrowed and the expression of disgust was so akin to his father’s that it threw him temporarily off guard. 

“How are you doing in there?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed in even further suspicion. “Amazing, asshole.”

A sense of humour too - this was the dream project. 

“How long have you been in there?” He kept his tone light, but was careful to fake enough concern. 

Miles scoffed. “Why do you care?”

“It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

The boy scoffed again, shaking his head. “What do you want?”

“I want to introduce myself. My name is John Mercer. I used to work on the Western Frontier.”

Miles scrunched his nose up. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“No,” Mercer chucked slightly. “I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Whatever,” Miles retorted. “You’re a coloniser. Congratulations.”

“I know why you see it that way. But my line of work was a little more… political than all that. I wanted to build bridges, not tear them down. I did a lot of work for SciOps.”

“You’re a scientist?” The boy didn't look impressed, but Mercer could tell he was curious.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Miles’s eyes were beginning to lock onto Mercer’s. Somehow, Mercer’s words were working. He'd surprised even himself.

“Did you know Dr Augustine?”

Grace Augustine? How the hell did this kid know about her? She died around the time he was born, if Mercer’s timeline was correct. 

“Not personally.”

Some of the fire behind the kid’s eyes seemed to die down at this news. He slunk back against the wall. 

“Listen, Miles-”

“That’s not my name,” the kid hissed. 

Daddy issues too? Perfect. 

“Okay. What do they call you then?”

The boy grinned conspiratorially, as if by withholding his name he’d won some kind of strategic standoff. 

“Okay,” Mercer said slowly. “Your file says Socorro. So let’s use that shall we?”

The kid’s eyes flashed dangerously in his direction, but he didn’t speak. 

“Ardmore’s drilling you pretty hard. You don’t want to give up everything and everyone you’ve ever known. I understand that. But she’s not your problem.”

Socorro was playing the part of the moody, uninterested teenager well, but Mercer knew he was listening closely. 

“The recombinant out there? That’s not your father. And you being here causes him a few issues.”

Socorro glanced up, ill-hidden confusion written all over his face. 

“Think about it. Don’t take this personally, but your existence is embarrassing for him. You shouldn’t have been born. He broke a huge safety protocol and will have to face the consequences. Second, if you’re not going to talk, then you’re useless to him and them. They won’t keep you around for long.” Suddenly, Mercer felt sorry for him. “I know this is a hard situation for you, but there’s no use forming an attachment with someone who’s going to have to terminate you.”

Socorro hissed loudly at this, catching Mercer off guard. He truly was a feral little Na’vi after all. 

“I’m sorry to put it so bluntly-”

But he was stopped in his tracks by a large, cold hand gripping his shoulder from behind and spinning him around, bringing him face to navel with the intimidating figure of Miles Quaritch. 

“What the hell are you doing talking to him?” 

Quaritch’s hand was vice-like on his shoulder, and Mercer tried his best to not let the strain of it show in his face. 

“Colonel Quaritch. I’m afraid I couldn’t control my… professional curiosity. Is there a problem?” He recounted what he had just said to the kid, trying to work out whether Quaritch had a right to be mad. From the looks of him, whatever he’d heard, he didn’t like. 

Quaritch’s face was seething with barely repressed anger, his clipped ears pinned down almost flat against his skull. His eyes darted from Mercer to Socorro, before settling on burning a laser hole through Mercer’s own eye sockets. “Get. Out,” he growled, his voice deadly. 

With that, Mercer was shoved out of Quaritch’s way so forcefully he stumbled and almost fell. Behind Quaritch stood Wainfleet, who Mercer was not surprised to see still acted as his boss’s obedient dog. Knowing his time was over, he stood up straight and dusted down the front of his previously crisp shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from Quaritch’s grip. 

“Gentlemen,” he said more confidently than he felt, and then turned his back on the cell and the recoms, his mind spinning with everything he had just learned.

It was so interesting to write from Mercer's perspective and give him and Spider some interaction! I have ideas about where this fic could go... but I won't commit to anything right now! As always, big thanks to @hyperfixatedfandomer for being such a huge source of inspiration!

[schtrawberry]

oh, to dress as your venus sign.ᐟ

[!] featuring my aries venus in the ninth house.

brief description: focusing on the more malefic side of mars in comparison to my previous post. in venus, aries is boyish and energetic— leaning heavily into bright reds to combat various shades of monochromatic blacks, whites, greys, and paler shades.

short hair, short cuts, and an even shorter temper.ᐟ

rather than the vibrant pinks and neons i've mentioned before, this venus in aries uses varying shades of red to cut through dark purples, greys, blacks, and army greens.

felt incredibly inspired by this picture from the musier paris spring 2023 lookbook— the use of grey leather on plain white with the model's very sleek pair of black boots made for such a carefully-monochromatic outfit that allowed for her red hobo bag to absolutely shine through. and the hair! just the perfect amount of short and playful that i associate with venus in this sign.

in this interpretation, venus in aries is a minimalist. yes, there may be a mix of revealing cuts and varying textures of leather and denim, but the colors always speak for themselves. sparkles, crazy patterns, belts, and excessive pieces of jewelry are to be kept at a minimum (but not forgone) in order for the singular addition of red to be the forever star of the show.

leather, cargo, and denim are truly the primary fabrics that bring body to each outfit for this sign— layered on top of cotton or modal to create emphasis for these more structured fabrics.

brands that come to mind: BAPE, maje paris, musier, AMI paris, zadig et voltaire, A.P.C, this piece from the isabel marant spring 2024 collection, jil sander, helmut lang.

brief description: venus in the ninth house is big on travel and expanding their horizon by visiting unfamiliar places. in this house, venus seeks pieces of clothing that make moving easy and comfortable— preferably in muted blues, pinks, greens, and oranges but with a loud pop of red to show their bright, jupiterian spirit.

something to camp in, something outdoorsy, something easy to move in.ᐟ

the ninth house also represents ethics; making this sign highly attracted to fashion brands that make use of eco-friendly fabrics and materials. they have a soft spot for brands that put special effort into ensuring that they are operated in an ethical manner.

colorful knits and sturdy hiking boots as seen in this aries x ROA hiking collaboration! such a perfect blend of comforting knitwear and natural colors to support the rugged life of their dreams.

too keep up with this sign's active spirit, i also envisioned a more boyish and sporty wardrobe and felt particularly inspired by the most recent sporty & rich x adidas collaboration. cotton tees, jersey shorts, and bejeweled sambas that are best for movement and activity!

in terms of jewelry, a charmed anklet first comes to mind. this sign is also a minimalist to, so they would rather put their energy into accessorizing their shoes with charms, bags with trinkets, and beltlines with functional pouches.

more energy moves towards functionality in this sign; with multi-pocketed jackets and pants, compact crossbody bags, and shoes that can be paired with a multitude of outfits.

brands that come to mind: forét (fw24), adidas sambas, aries x ROA collab, thinking mu, AMI paris, sporty & rich, marni, pangaia, comptoir des cotonniers.

[thetiredasthmatic]

The Twisted Fairytale [Welcome Home Fanfic]

Synopsis: Only one person could be Mx. Darling. And it was the time of year where suitors were chosen. But...how did they get here? And more importantly....how do they get out?

Au: Royalty Au (Also Human Au!)

Word Count: 1.5k (4 and a half pages!)

Warnings: Scopophobia, Stalking, excessive eye contact (it's wally so it's expect lol), obsession and devotion, kidnapping.

A/n: OH BOY DO I LOVE A GOOD TWISTED FAIRYTALE- I'll talk more at the end. Hope Ya enjoy!

edit: I may or may not be continuing this or not, it was kinda just a one off idea i had in my head. I'll probs be focusing on writing other stuff more and take a mini break from writing for welcome home! and I don't want to be disrespectful by continuing to write for this series! I hope you guys understand and stick around to see what else I have in store!

“Y/n! Y/n! You should go! What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I don't know, Ms. Joyful…”

Your boss, Ms. Julie Joyful huffed. You worked for the fashion designer in the west district of the kingdom of the Welcome, a beautiful and colorful land filled with amazing people.

Ms. Julie was bestfriend with the Prince of this land, so she was something of a royal advisor, so she got the scoop of when things were happening in the kingdom.

It just seems that today she found out that they are looking for a suitor for the Prince. She explained her reasoning for wanting you to do it, as she thinks you’d make great royalty and you’d be wonderful.

But you, a commoner from the farming district knew better. 

That and the prince creeped you out a bit…but you weren’t going to tell her that.

You hated it whenever you had to go to the castle with her. You always felt like you were being watched, judged, like someone was waiting on you to make everyone move...

Hell, besides that, you still were in shock how you managed to get this job working alongside Ms. Joyful, so you could only imagine what the competition for the Prince’s hand would be like.

“Well! Whether you like it or not! You’re going Y/n! I don’t want you to pass up this opportunity! Plus, Sally and Poppy recommended you too!”

You wanted to slowly disappear.

Like maybe you could go hop in the river.

Or you could ask Eddie Dear to ship you off to Alaska.

You wanted to be anywhere but here right now...

Ms. Sally was an amazing actor who over saw the entertainment district alongside Barnaby, the prince’s right hand. She was always coming to you so she could get more ideas for scripts or costume designs for her latest plays!

While You already knew Ms. Poppy was going to recommend you as well, she was like a mother type figure to you.

When you arrived in the farming district of Welcome, you had little to no memory of where you came from, just your name.

It was strange when you try to remember it, you remember being pulled somewhere and falling before you ended up falling face down in Ms. Poppy's garden.

She took you in and showed you the ropes when it came to farming, and the rest is history. She was the reason why you worked alongside Julie as she saw you had talent that shouldn't be wasted with farming.

You should have know they were gonna throw your name in the bunch.

You could only sigh in response.

“So when do I leave Ms. Julie?”

“Um..Now actually! Barnarby has been waiting on us this entire time!’

You whipped your head around an low and behold there stood the large, blue haired male with a big grin on his face. He gave a sheepish grin as Julie marched over to him, handing your bags to him.

“Come one! I’m gonna take you up there!”

“Y-yes..ma’am..”

You allowed yourself to be led by the two, your fate resting in their hands until you arrived at the castle. But you felt a burning sensation in the back of your head, almost as if your body was trying to tell you something.

Like it was trying to tell you that this was a bad idea…

—------------

When the three of you arrived, Julie walked through the halls of the Welcome Palace with you, entering the meeting room and passing a trio of other women.

They glared at you with filthy glances until they jumped at the shrill yell Julie let out.

“WALLLYYYYYYYYY!!!!!! I BROUGHT MY CANDIDATE CHOICE!!!”

It was silent for a bit after her yell before a Monotonous voice could be heard coming down the hall.

“Coming! You don’t have to yell Julie, I already knew you had arrived!”

That voice belonged to the prince, and you quickly joined the others as he rounded the corner. You felt like your breath had been taken away.

Prince Wally Darling, or Prince Darling as he so lovingly went by, is a beautiful man, glowing brown skin, pretty dark blue eyes, well done hair and a handsome face to seal the deal. 

He knew how attractive he was and he was not afraid to use it.

He then walked over to Julie, engaging in conversation with her, and you let out a sigh of relief.

Until she pointed at you.

You felt your body tense as his eyes followed Julie’s finger and you could’ve sworn when you made eye contact his pupils dilated a bit before returning to normal.

You wanted to go back to the time when you didn’t know he existed right about now.

Wally then tilted his head in confusion before turning to Julie. “I thought it was supposed to be seven, not five?” Wally asked and Julie giggled,

“Sally and Poppy chose Y/n as their choice too! She’s just that lovely!”

You could feel the other girls glare at you at Julies statement.

You wanted to roll your eyes and yell that they could have him, that you were forced to be here really.

BUt one other one looked at you with a sheepish look. 

You knew her from your time in the farming district, Her name was Viola Vibrato, a pretty dark skinned woman with pretty green hair and matching yellow-green eyes. She was your only friend in the entire kingdom besides Julie and Sally.

She was an amazing singer so it was weird to see her here.

And it appeared she didn't want to be here herself...

She seemed to look uncomfortable as well, and she quickly made her way over to you.

“Psst. Y/n can we talk real quick?”

“Yea, Sure!”

Viola then grabbed your hand and headed in the direction of what you could only assume were bedrooms. A pair of eyes following you as you were pulled along.

Turns out Viola was the first one to be brought to the palace for this little suitor selection, so she had a room in the Palace already. She hurriedly pulled you into the room before closing the door.

You took notice of how she was acting…She seemed a bit…

Paranoid.

“Vio…are you okay?..” You asked as you watched her check around the room.

It was liked she was looking to see if someone or anyone was listening in on you two. She checked every part of the room until she felt comfortable. 

When she finally stopped she grabbed your shoulders.

“Y/n. we need to get out of here.” 

You were shocked by her words and tilted your head in confusion, prompting her to continue on.

“We don’t belong here Y/n…”

“I mean of course we don’t were farmers in a royals-”

“No! There’s something off about this place! About the prince! Hell even about the advisors!”

You stared at her, reading the worried look on her face. 

“Don’t you find it strange that you don’t remember anything about your past life? That we woke up here in this sunshine and rainbows kingdom!?”

You then averted your gaze to the ground. She was right. Viola had explained how she had also woken up in the farming district, barely being able to remember a thing about where she came from until she started having these weird dreams.

Dreams of being chased down by something unknown yet all seeing..

The feeling of eyes just on her, even when she was out in the open she felt eyes on her. Or how she had met others who felt the same way that she did, but when they brought their feeling up, they disappeared as quick as they arrived in the kingdom.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we of all people were chosen to be here? It’s like they’re setting us up for something…” Viola finished and you gave her a nod.

You had always thought this castle and the kingdom was a bit odd. 

You questioned how the district ran if people never paid for anything, or how the shops were able to keep their stock high, despite not charging a thing for their goods. Why did the kingdom only have one scientist and one mailman, or how did Wally even become prince?

“So what do we do, Vio?...we can’t just get up and leave!”

“We fake the funk until we can figure out what the hell is going on.” She answers quickly.

“We fake it until we can-”

A rapid knock cut Viola off followed by Barnaby’s voice.

“Umm, Ms. Viola, it is time for bed! I have to show Ms. Y/n to her room.”

Viola looked at you, before nodding and allowing you to leave out the room, the situation you already didn’t want to be in seems like it just got worse…

When you did reach your room and bid Barnaby goodnight, you still felt like eyes were on you. Though you knew you were alone in the room.

You sighed and decided to finally sleep it off, especially with the information that Viola had just told you. You snuggled up in your bed and hoped and prayed that nothing was coming to get you in your sleep…

—------

‘Y/n….Darling…

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find yourself in a dark void. You let out a shriek of fear as you realized there were eyes in the void. And said eyes were staring at you.

‘My….darling…you’re not leaving me are you..?’

You were frozen with fear as the eyes bore down on you.

‘You don’t get to leave…not after i did all this work to bring you here…’

With that phrase you quickly scrambled away, where you were running? You didn’t know but you just wanted to get the feeling of eyes off your back.

‘Don’t leave me! Where are you going!?’

You covered your ears, you felt like someone was watching you, that the voice you was hearing was in your head, so no matter how hard you try to block it out, You could hear it booming in your head.

All you could do is effortlessly run and hope that you would get away wake up

Wake up..

Wake up.

No matter what you do you need to WAKE UP-

You jolted away, only to be met with the black void of your room. You quickly reached over to turn on your lamp.

Suddenly, You didn’t feel like sleeping anymore….

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

"Do you like her?..."

......

"Yea...She's not like the others...she's the perfect piece.."

....

....

"Do you really think so? You think she'll become my Princess?.."

...

.........

"Okay. I can't let this one get away.."

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: OKAYYYY I hope you all enjoyed! I do like to take time when working on these longer fics and I take great care whenever I'm developing a universe! So there will be small things that I may come back and change! But I hope you all enjoy!

Also Don't forgot to leave requests for me or if you just want to say hi and talk about other ideas! Don't be afraid to!

Till next time <3 Take care of yourselves and I love you all!

[harveyguilleniconodelamoda]

i've noticed that harvey tends to go for wide leg pants for 'fancy' occasions and i wish he wouldn't

I honestly can't relate, Anon! He looks so fucking good in a wide-leg pant. That silhouette works soooo well on him, he's so gorgeous and present and powerful!

But like...I get it. We all have our preferences when it comes to clothing! Style is intensely personal. So if you don't favor a wide-leg pant, that's fine! You do you. He also rocks a skinny or tapered-leg pant at a lot of events, and looks amazing there, too! But I'd like to take this opportunity to talk a bit about why I absolutely love the wide-leg pant look.

Comfort

A wide-leg pant is just damn comfy, in my opinion. The ease of movement, the air between the fabric and your skin allowing it to breathe. It's just comfy! Comfort only helps with confidence, and as we know...confidence is the single must-have ingredient that will make or break any outfit. Even more so, I'd imagine, when you're under bright lights with a hundred cameras pointed at you!

Legs for days

This is somewhat dependent on the waistline and hemline, but I think Harvey and his stylist(s) have that down. A wide-leg pant can really elongate your legs, which is great for looks where you want to emphasize your sense of presence (like, say, when representing yourself and your work on the red carpet). It also just looks very cool in motion!

Taking up space

Fashion can be used to emphasize features, change proportions, project a certain shape or image...and in general, I think that's fine. But the vast majority of fashion advice for plus sized people for decades has been centered around how to make ourselves appear smaller, as if we can become thin via the power of optical illusion. We're supposed to stay away from anything too eye-catching, anything too big or attention-getting. We can't (according to conventional wisdom) wear anything too tight, or too bright, or too loud, or too big.

No slouchy or oversized styles, wide-leg pants, big sleeves, sparkles, bright colors, loud patterns, billowy capes, bows, etc...anything with excess fabric, especially. These are all things we're often told to stay away from as plus sized people because it'll make us "look bigger." And the subtext of that in a fatphobic society, of course, is that we're already unacceptably large and should want to minimize that as much as possible. Like we have to apologize just for existing.

WelI, I say fuck that. The thing that finally made me feel good in my body? When I stopped trying to take up less space and make myself small. It wasn't doing me any favors. It just looked--and felt--like I was trying to hide. Because I was!

And apparently, Harvey shares at least some of that sentiment! He embraces all of those "forbidden" things and always looks fabulous doing so! He takes up space. He draws attention to himself. He is a presence that cannot be ignored, instead of fading into the background and radiating apologies for his size. He doesn't need to apologize. His size is a gift and he's beautiful.

Anyway...those are my thoughts. To close, have some photos of Harvey in wide-leg pants over the years, looking gorgeous and taking up space.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: October Wrap-Up.

Gr8 news: I am no longer very far behind on my NaNo prep reading!! I had to drop JUST LIKE HOME (reread) and HOUSE OF LEAVES, but I got through the rest of my Haunted House and/or Aliens and/or Parasite/Fungus TBR. Here they all are!

Photos and/or reviews linked:

SHRIEK - ★★★★ I think SHRIEK Is my favorite volume of the Ambergris trilogy, taken as a whole--the one-way conversation Duncan was having with Janice was a really neat narrative choice, and then the reveal in the Afterword's Afterword was, in true VanderMeer fashion, mind-blowing.

FINCH - ★★★★ I was actually surprised by how much I liked this one. It helped me figure out a LOT about what kinds of power dynamics I enjoy in borderline-dystopian fiction, and what intrigues me most about limited agency. It wrapped the story up almost too neatly, for a VanderMeer, but I did still have a good time and blitzed through it quickly. Given this one and SHRIEK, I'm counting the Whole Series as a Four-Star read--I'd like to reread it someday, now that I know what's going on.

LEECH - ★★★★★ (reread) STILL ONE OF MY ALL-TIME FAVES, OFFICIALLY!! It's very gothic and heavy and fucked up, but it does FASCINATING things with POV, and worldbuilding, and storytelling frameworks. PLEASE check the content warnings, but if none of those are hard no's for you, definitely pick this one up. I suspect anyone for whom Animorphs was a Formative Influence will adore this (but so far my sample size is really only 1)--please prove me right.

A HOUSE WITH GOOD BONES - ★★★½ This was fun! Not my favorite Kingfisher (that award still goes to HOLLOW PLACES), but I had a good time--I laughed, I squealed over vultures, I blasted through pages to get to the end.

STARLING HOUSE - ★★★★ Alix E. Harrow always manages to write exactly my catnip, somehow. Maybe it's the ADHD, but I'm constantly finding connections to my own writing projects in her work, and STARLING HOUSE was no exception! I liked that this one was more modern, and the sibling dynamic was precious, and I love weird sentient houses where space is more of a suggestion than a hard and fast rule. I'll probably reread this one for Driscoll purposes!

WOODWORM - ★★★½ So much rage in such a tiny volume, and I was Absolutely Here For It. I don't tend to read much lit fic, but I do try to read a lot in translation, and I thought this one did very cool stuff with Spanish--the prose felt natural in English, but I loved the linguistic details the translators left in Spanish and how much depth that added. I feel like this one might be a good fit for Carmen Maria Machado fans, too.

HOW TO SELL A HAUNTED HOUSE - ★★★ Call this a low 3, from me. It was Fine, I guess. I liked what he did with the act structure (labeling parts as stages of grief was very cool), and I liked the family dynamics and history, but a lot of the humor didn't land for me (I got a few sensible chuckles, but a bunch of it wasn't funny), and the "oh this author is A Man, huh" moments made me roll my eyes (seriously: Who thinks about their ~breasts~ when an angry taxidermied squirrel is clawing down your shirt?? No One With Breasts, Mr. Dude). This book did at least teach me that I'm not really interested in gore (it's just boring, unlike body horror, my beloved). I might still pick up HORRORSTOR, but I probably won't look into most of his other stuff, if this one is indicative of his general style. Meh.

THE ART OF EXCESS - No rating (didn't read the whole thing). At the end of ALWAYS COMING HOME, Richard Powers mentioned this book as the reason he finally committed to ALWAYS, so I was curious what this Tom Leclair dude had to say about it back in 1989. I had a heck of a time tracking down a copy (it's very out of print, and my local library had to source it from the Library of Congress for me), but I didn't want to buy it to read just the preface/intro/epilogue, because I haven't read any of the other texts he analyzes. Leclair's style was very readable, and I was intrigued by his framework, but I found some of his conclusions eye-rolly, given his sample size. I posted this one because I think Library of Congress books are fun, but I didn't add it to my Goodreads.

BLACK TIDE - ★★★½ This one had me rolling my eyes in the first couple chapters, and I was afraid I wasn't going to like it, but once Fucked Up Shit Started Happening, the momentum really picked up and didn't stop--I blitzed through it way past my bedtime on a school night. It was fucked up and weird and tense and bloody pull-no-punches horror, but it ALSO made me laugh, and I loved our two fuck-ups surviving the apocalypse together. NOTE: Dogs (and Gulls) Are Not Safe, and the cast is small enough that it matters a lot :( if you can't stomach animal harm/death, skip this.

A HALF-BUILT GARDEN - 81/338 pages read; will report back. Enjoying it so far! Glad I put it on my NaNo prep reading list, though not quite for the reasons I planned--the reflections on motherhood as well as parenting outside the binary have been interesting, so far (and that's relevant for my own haunted house endeavors!). A much gentler ride than BLACK TIDE, and the immersive tech reminds me of Murderbot's world, just Earthbound.

Overall! Fabulous month for reading! Anytime I think "wow I need A Break™ from writing or life," this is the type of reading I mean--where I can spend a couple weeks annihilating books within a day to Refill the Words Reservoir.

Under the Cut: A Note About ~*★Stars★*~

Historically, I have been Very Bad™ about assigning things Star Ratings, because it's so Vibes Heavy for me and therefore Contingent Upon my Whims. I am refining this as I figure out my wrap up posts (epiphany of last month: I don't like that stars are Odd, because that makes three the midpoint and things are rarely so truly mid for me)(I have hacked my way around this with a ½). Here is, generally, how I conceptualize stars:

★ - This was Bad. I would actively recommend that you do NOT read this one, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, not worth the slog. Save Yourself, It's Too Late For Me. Book goes in the garbage (donate bin).

★★ - This was Not Good. I would not recommend it, but it wasn't a total waste or wash--something in here held my interest/kept my attention/sparked some joy. I will not be rereading this ever. Save Yourself (Or Join Me In Suffering, That Seems Like A Cool Bonding Activity).

★★★ - This was Good/Fine/Okay/Meh. I don't care about this enough to recommend it one way or another. Perfectly serviceable book, held my interest, I probably enjoyed myself (or at least didn't actively loathe the reading). I don't have especially strong feelings. You probably don't need to save yourself from this one--if it sounds like your jam, give it a shot! Just didn't resonate with me particularly powerfully. I probably won't reread this unless I'm after something in particular.

★★★½ - I liked this! I'll probably recommend it if I know it matches someone's vibes or specific requests, but I didn't commit to a star rating on Goodreads. More likely to reread, but not guaranteed.

★★★★ - I really enjoyed this!! I would recommend it (sometimes with caveats about content warnings or such--I tend to like weird fucked up funny shit, and I don't have many hard readerly NO's). Not a perfect book for me by any means, but Very Good. This is something I would reread! Join me!!

★★★★★ - I LOVED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS, IT REWIRED MY BRAIN, WILL RECOMMEND TO ANYONE AND EVERYONE AT THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION (content warning caveats still apply--see 4-star disclaimer). Excellent book, I'll reread it regularly, I'll buy copies for all my friends, I'll try to convince all of Booklr to read it, PLEASE join me!!

[4ddi3addie2005]

hiiiiiiiii, i was wondering if your requests were open, and if so, could you do a hair braiding fic with Wally Darling x gn!reader? like. wally has No Idea how to braid hair because his hair is always, Like That and the reader teaches him how and then he does their hair and they're both blushing and,

accidentally went off the rails and wrote 2k+ words and i forgot the prompt halfway but here it is :”D i literally have no idea how to braid hair or fix hair. tried to learn before i chopped it off and literally cried sooo there’s no tutorial in here djdvshdvsh super fun to write!! sorry if it wasn’t what you expected aha

cw: touch-centric, maybeee non-consensual kissing?? reader is cool with it but no questions were asked, mild implications of mind-reading, mentions of blood and needles

Desc: Wally X Human Reader,,, julie and wally style your hair before the former needs to leave due to a butterfly-related emergency. it’s just you and him.

No horror this time lol

Everyone in Home was just so fascinated with your hair! Especially Julie. She was pretty handy with her own locks of yarn, so when you strolled in with those thread-thin layers (no, thinner than thread!) she was lightning-fast to sink her hands into it and start suggesting styles! Poor girl nearly exploded when you told her she could go crazy with it, you didn’t mind! You were at ease just letting her run a comically large comb through it, but you were yanked from your serenity when she pulled out the needles.

Turns out, the citizens of Home have a unique way of grooming, involving pins and sharp bits, string, a bit of dexterity…

Her scream was as instantaneous as your yelp. You grabbed the back of your head and felt a hot dewdrop stick to your palm.

Honest mistake, really. You told Julie she was fine! You should have thought of it sooner, haha. There was a teary-eyed apology and a hug. You’re never going to get used to their empathy, you think.

Later, she was recalling the strange story to her friends, noting that their new buddy is slap-full of paint! It hurts for that paint to spill out, apparently! Wally was listening.

Little guy creeped you out, honestly. It wasn’t like you didn’t like spending time with him, you just always felt like there was something brewing behind that permanent smile. No one else seemed to notice or care.

And he was on to you, too. Your mind felt… strange when he was around. You don’t know how to voice these concerns, so you didn’t.

You were fast friends either way. There was a mutual understanding of… something. You knew you two were kindred spirits right when you laid eyes on him.

Anyways.

You loved that big ole’ ball of yarn he had. “Hair” was a strong word, it was all stitched in, but it was even better to bat around or give a little squeeze! And he sure didn’t mind at all! Sometimes he’d even ask you to run your fingers through it or stitch something back into place. He trusted you a lot with his pomp. You think it has to do with your agile fingers, or your nails. (Your nails were a big hit in Home! You gave the best scritches, according to Barnaby.)

You eventually rescheduled that hair-styling date with Julie, more than a few times. The neighbors were never far behind, but Wally tagged along the most. His passion for fashion was no secret so he and Julie collaborated often to dress you up like a doll. You’d get the chance to style them, too. They thought your preferences were unique for a number of reasons and marveled at their transformations.

Today was one of those days. You had your head hanging over the sink, squeezing out shampoo. You had brought your own products because fabric softener didn’t agree with your… anything, really. You were washing out the absolute excess of spray, gel, glue, and whatever the heck Julie had plastered to your skull for your latest look. Your scalp was screaming for emptiness, but sweet Jul still had some fire left in her and was intent to braid your whole head while it was damp, as she was basically dreaming to see you with a head full of curls! You’d do anything for her, so whatever.

Wally was sitting on the counter, gazing at himself in a small hand-held mirror with the larger bathroom mirror blatantly behind him. His lips were moving silently in accordance to a song playing idly from the record player in another room.

Julie was beside you, also bouncing along to the distant melody, doing her makeup. She was in an orange mood today, she said.

“Alright, Jul, I’m ready.” You stood straight up and attempted to straighten out your aching back.

“Oh! But my…! Give me a second, just wring it out; I’m almost there.”

You took a towel and gave your hair a good squeeze, having a brief vision of folding it on the floor like a pillow and going to sleep. You prayed she’d have you sit down.

“Okie-dokie!” She slapped her pallette down on the counter. Wally looked up. “I’m ready.”

You yawned and you felt your eyes unfocus in the mirror. Standing on a stool to reach you, she ran her hands through your wet locks until it reached some sort of satisfactory position, and started from the top. You could feel her precision in your skull.

Wally’s attention drifted away from himself and he leaned in; his lazy gaze looking very similar to your own at the moment. “Now how’re you doing that, Julie?”

“It’s super easy! You just section it out, like so…”

Her explanation was lost on you. You were fantasizing about a nap.

“You try it!”

You floated back into reality when gentle hands sifted into your hair. With Julie, debatably a professional, styling and cutting for you all the time, you could easily sense the inexperience. The process began again, albeit slower, clumsier, and Julie started to tap her foot.

“You take that side, and I’ll take this side! We’ll be done in no time.”

Braid upon braid was piled onto your head. You focused more on the progress on your left, where you actually saw Wally squint in the mirror. Julie worked so fast that you couldn’t even feel it sometimes. Wally had his soft fingers against your scalp, tugging gently at the strands tight to your head for closer coverage. Julie stopped to help him every once in a while. You closed your eyes.

A commotion from the living room. Doors being thrown open.

“Julie, by stars, we NEED you!” Frank had rushed into the bathroom with the frenzy of someone being chased by an ax murderer. “A-27 is emerging and has requested you be there! For her, Julie!”

Julie gasped and dropped the hair she had so delicately braided. “Chryssabellum? She isn’t due for another week! Oh, um Wally!” She ran backwards out the door and flicked her hand. “You finish that!”

The door was swung halfway closed and the two were gone in a flash. You just stared.

“Hi, Frank. Okay, Julie.” Wally said after a long moment of them being gone. He hadn’t even looked up from braiding.

“Wow.” You breathed. Okay. “Can we sit down?”

“Sure. You look very very tired. I would be too, I think.”

You let out the most satisfying sigh ever and sank to the floor. The cold linoleum was heavenly in contrast to the balmy air. With only being twelve apples tall, Wally could still easily reach the top of your head. You planted your hands on the floor and leaned your head back, resting it on your shoulders.

His progress didn’t shift at all. He kept at it, slow, careful, learning, folding your hair over and over again.

Now that you think about it, Wally’s never fooled with your hair before. He was more of a wardrobe guy. “How’s it going back there?”

“It is going much!”

You let out another dramatic sigh. “She worked me today, Wally. She really did.”

“I can tell. You looked nice though. And funny.” He went for that spot between your neck and your skull, making little scratching motions to bring the hair closer to him before starting to braid. You let your eyes slip shut. He got on his knees for a better angle.

Yet another sigh. You got off your hands completely, preferring to lean back into his lap. Unbothered, yet hindered, he took his hands away, gazing down.

“You got sweet little hands, man.” You iterated by taking one in your own. It was damp from your hair. His whole outfit, including him, was now dampened by your hair.

“Thank you. They’re mine.”

“They are.” You repeated, smiling. It was sadly taken away.

“Sorry. Julie told me to finish.”

You huffed lightheartedly. “Can you manage upside-down?”

“I can try.” He straightened his legs, placing each at your side.

So you rolled over, crossing your arms over his thighs (or the equivalent) and laying on them. Your forehead was comfy against his abdomen. Finally satisfied, your eyelids dropped.

He started working on your hair again, adapting to the new position quickly. You were lost in the motions once again before the record player, for the first time that night, caught your attention.

It was playing something slow, emotional. Not quite sultry, you think. Goodness no. Just… passionate. Wally was humming along. You could feel the tiny rumble coming from somewhere inside him as he did so. Every once in a while, he’d whisper a breathy strand of lyrics that had you… thinking.

Everyone in Home was about as shy as a golden retriever. Embraces like this were not uncommon. In the time you’ve existed here, you’ve been hugged, kissed, cuddled, coddled, and just plain handled more than you ever have in your entire life.

So why were you all of a sudden funny about it? It’s not like your position was scandalous. Could be misinterpreted among humans, but it was very very very difficult for puppets to be scandalous. You appreciated that. You’ll forget about these fuzzy feelings later, you reckon. Hopefully.

He must have finished, or was close to it, because the lovely little motions stopped and he had one braid between his fingers.

“It’s like a paintbrush.” He positioned the end to mimic the act of painting his hand. “You’re full of them.”

You smiled against his legs. Now that he didn’t have an objective, you lazily looped your arms around him, further crushing yourself into his middle. He folded his hands in your hair.

Wally didn’t feel the need to make conversation or small talk, or anything like that. You were fine, there was no pressure on you to do so either. He was content to stare holes in the back of your head. You imagined that he was painting you in his mind, picking out a shade for each thread of your hair, envisioning just the right stroke at just the right speed so he could fully capture the wonders of you. Maybe he’d even paint with your hair. That’d be a fun exercise.

You got bored of imagining and flipped over. He never let go of you, which translated to his hands lightly traveling to your cheeks. You were met with deep black vaults, barely outlined by white, connecting with your own. Startling to a stranger, slightly less startling to you.

With his hands on either side of your face, you couldn’t help but feel something other than fear. You reached up and poked where his nose would be. He returned the gesture by brushing his thumbs down the slopes of your nose. The record player continued softly.

“Sorry for getting you all wet.” His damp hands felt nice though. Like getting a facial. You wouldn’t be surprised if your skin was a tad shinier after this.

“It’s fine. You’re still warm.”

Your face sure felt warm.

It slowly dawned on you that this interaction was getting less and less friendly. In the best of ways. Would he even know what you were talking about if you brought it up? Probably not. You’d sound like an idiot if you were too direct.

“What’re we doing here, Walls?”

His smile barely widened, in a half-laugh kind of way. His thumbs moved to smooth your cheekbones. They ached from your smile.

“The funny things you’re thinking about… that’s what we’re doing.”

You were just about to ask what he meant.

“Muah.” He said, against your teeth, catching your open mouth just in time. You felt fuzz on your tongue. His departure somehow caught your bottom lip. It tapped back to your teeth unceremoniously. Over before you knew it.

Very not friendly, you realized.

“Wally!” You flicked him on the shoulder, playfully offended. “Some gentlemen you are.”

He giggled, mirth wrinkling his eyes and your own.

“Did I do good?”

You licked your lips unconsciously. “Yeah, yeah. That was fine.”

His hand found your chin, barely tugging at your lip. It didn’t even expose your teeth, just serving to drive you absolutely insane.

“Are you sure I did it right…?” He asked.

“You usually open your mouth.” You finally said, quietly. Your hands and fingers and nails found the back of his head, burrowing under the yarn of that stitched in hair-do.

“Oh. That’s it, then.” His volume matched your own. You were lowering him towards you. Of course he’d have his eyes open, wide and starry. You got ready to close yours. You had just the faintest idea of what you were about to do.

A commotion from the front door.

You meant to yank your hand out of his hair and act as natural as possible when your finger snagged and you ended up snatching his head to the side.

“Oh! N— Wally I am so sorry.” Poor guy looked completely bewildered.

You automatically glanced at the door to see Julie’s befuddled gaze that clearly asked ‘Am I interrupting something?’ She said nothing, but cracked a grin as you hastily untangled from his pomp and addressed her from his lap way too casually.

“So, how did it go!”

“Um, good! Good. A little rough at first. Chrysabellum has a pattern on her wings that we haven’t seen before…”

She was definitely asking you about this later. And you definitely weren’t going to know what to say.

[lieutenant-teach]

Cody and Obi-Wan are getting prepared for a Rebellion mission. Reminiscences of the past, flirting and gaudy outfits. CodyWan edition of ‘Star Wars Summer Vacation’. Warning: Lego-style humor! Part 2\5 [part 1], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5].

The way to the destination was quite uneventful, learning about each other’s lives during these ten years, about the chips (Obi-Wan had always known there was something suspicious – loyal and kind men couldn’t just turn into cold-blooded murderers in a span of seconds!), about the state of the Rebellion (Cody working with his remaining brothers such as Rex and Wolffe as their own cell alongside the others like the Fulcrum and the Ghost crew). For his own part, Obi-Wan didn’t have any news to share except, well, being alive.

 – So, that’s the plan: we come into Jabba’s palace, blend in, find information about coaxium, find this coaxium, steal it, go away, - Cody summed up as they were approaching the Hutt’s palace, decorated excessively richly with colourful ribbons and broadsheets with ‘Happy birthday, Jabba!’.

 – ‘Find information’? – Obi-Wan still was dubious about a bright pink shirt with printed neon flowers Cody dragged from the depth of his ship and all but tugged on him. Cody himself was still wearing covers all over his face sans eyes and a ghastly coloured tunic (‘Rex is as gracious as he is.’), complemented with a hat similar to Cad Bane’s. Not that Obi-Wan didn’t trust they wouldn’t stand out – after all, this was the day anyone could enter the Mighty Jabba’s palace, and that means, anyone, even with questionable choice of outfits and with no fashion taste whatsoever. No, he just didn’t enjoy Rex’s humour.

 – Just asking around, even flirting, you know the drill, - Cody shot a bit surprised look. – You’ve done it million times.

 – Don’t wish to disappoint you, dear, but after ten years of almost complete secludedness, having only an eopie for a companion, I’ve lost all my charm, - the flash of Cody’s wonder, longing and warmth so strong it hurt didn’t slip Obi-Wan’s senses echoing his own feelings locked far far away in his soul for so long. And, just like ten years prior, it wasn’t time, it wasn’t place. But the endearment just slipped off his tongue and felt very natural. Not wandering from the mission at hand, compose yourself, Kenobi! – After all, who would even like to flirt with such an old man like me?

Judging by Cody’s glare and disagreeing huffing from behind the scarf, he didn’t buy this self-deprecating chuckle.

 – Firstly, you’re not that old. What are you, around fifty standard? Secondly, you look really good for a man who’s lived last ten years in a desert, - the defensiveness in Cody’s voice and feelings touched Obi-Wan, making him smile softly. But he couldn’t help from retorting:

 – Are you giving me a master-class in flirting? – teasing rolled off his tongue as natural as ten years ago.

 – Come on, learned from the best in this art, - Cody was as quick to banter as ever. – After all, you did call me ‘always handsome’ back in the cantina.

 – Found guilty, and regret nothing, - Obi-Wan raised his hands jokingly and earned a warm chuckle from behind the scarf which made his heart leap.

As they were approaching the gate, they noticed a couple of familiar stormtroopers near the entrance. One was balancing on the ladder trying to hang another broadsheet with congratulations, the other was giving very helpful instructions from the ground. They both didn’t even look at ‘just a married couple enjoying their vacation’ passing by.

 – You didn’t even get to flirt, - Cody sounded disappointed, as they spotted the coaxium almost instantly. The pile of vials with highly explosive material was nestled cozily right near Jabba the Hutt’s cushion. – Now to the plan: we must steal it.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows:

 – I presume you already have an idea how to do that?

 – Yes. You’re going to sing.

[cesqdarque]

A Montague Soirée

My contribution for Hogtober Day 16 "MCxMC" in casu "MCxOC" hosted by the lovely @yoshitsuno and @speedysart🖤 And because I felt inspired, I decided to write a one-shot for this prompt. The scene takes place in the time before Cassandra was sent to Hogwarts. Summary: Cassandra attends one of her grandmother's popular soirées and discovers that not all the invited guests have peaceful motives. With Zacharias' assistance, she sets a clear political statement against the interference in her family's affairs. Words: 4k Tags: fluff | waltzing on the political parquet | hints of a tutor-student relationship | unholy alliances And for the vibes: Every Breath You Take - The Police

She adjusted her black silk gloves one last time, lifted the hem of her evening gown slightly, and descended the winding staircase to the entrance hall. Gently, she let her hand glide over the copper handrail, carefully placing one foot in front of the other.

She felt confined, though not because the dress was too tight—it fit her perfectly, as if tailored to her exact measurements. Admittedly, she was surprised to find an evening gown adorned with rhinestones, black as night with shimmering stars woven into the fabric, laid out on her bed. Her grandmother’s usual choice of attire was much more colorful than Cassandra preferred. But Mrs. Montague insisted on her attendance at the soirée. And one did not contradict the matriarch of the house, even if one was her only granddaughter.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she let her gaze sweep over the gathered guests. Augustina Montague had generously invited, as it seemed. These events were not unfamiliar to Cassandra, but usually her grandmother let her decide when she felt like appearing in public. She disliked the displays of the elite magical society—excessive superficiality, gossip, and the latest rumors were not among her interests.

With a sigh, she let go of the handrail, when she heard a deep male voice to her right. “Miss Darque, you look absolutely stunning, if I may say so.”

Glancing slightly over her shoulder, she recognized the owner of the pleasantly familiar voice. Standing elegantly in black attire was Zacharias Boniface, his elbow already bent, waiting for her to take it.

“Please, let’s skip the small talk, Zacharias,” she muttered irritably under her breath, as she calmly placed her fingers around his forearm and allowed him to escort her down the last step.

“No formalities, dear. You truly do look…” he began, flashing his most charming smile.

But Cassandra shook her head in discontent, and as a reflected beam of light blinded her, she turned her gaze to the ceiling, where a chandelier adorned with colorful glass stones hung.

“What is that hideous novelty?” she remarked mockingly.

Zach, whose compliment had died on his lips, followed her gaze as she stopped to critically observe the pompously glittering piece of craftsmanship above them.

“A gift to your grandmother,” he commented, apparently amused by Cassandra’s candid rejection of the light fixture.

“For Merlin’s sake,” she snorted, rolling her eyes, “Not everyone has a sense of subtlety, huh?” she added with a sharp tongue.

A low, dark chuckle escaped her companion. “Mrs. Montague was delighted,” he assured her with a grin.

“You don’t say,” she replied sarcastically. „Maybe that’s why she decided to dress me in black tonight, so I wouldn’t outshine her new centerpiece,” she joked.

Her grandmother’s taste, whether in fashion or décor, couldn’t have been more opposed to her own. Cassandra had always refused to wear anything but black. Nothing repulsed her more than walking through the halls of her grandmother’s estate dressed like a flower girl.

Her grandmother had never approved of her penchant for gloominess. She was always trying to add some color to her granddaughter’s dark appearance. That was why it made Cassandra suspicious that, for once, tonight there had been no endless debate over the appropriateness of her somber style.

“As if some tacky light show could overshadow you,” Zacharias tried again to flatter her, only to be met with a pointed look of disdain from Cassandra.

“Seriously. What’s the occasion for this soirée?” Cassandra continued her probing. Something about this evening felt off, though she couldn’t yet put her finger on it.

With a gentle tug on her wrist, Zacharias guided them both toward a quieter corner of the room. As they walked through the hall, she scanned the attending guests carefully. She knew the usual participants at her grandmother’s soirées, but tonight, she spotted many unfamiliar faces, people she couldn’t place with any particular organization or pure-blood family. Deep in thought, she furrowed her brow.

“I don’t think your grandmother needs a reason to host a soirée. Her soirée is the reason,” her companion commented nonchalantly before releasing her to address a passing house-elf, who was draped in a purple cloth tied like a toga around his body. “Relax and just enjoy the evening,” he encouraged her, handing her a glass of champagne with an inviting smile.

She grabbed the glass filled with the sparkling liquid and raised it to her lips. If she had to endure this dull company for the evening, she would do so in the preferable state of tipsy carefreeness.

Steel-blue eyes watched as she eagerly downed a large gulp of the sparkling wine. “Don’t overdo it, Cass,” teased Zacharias, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Don’t worry. Just enough to make this bearable,” she replied promptly. She had no intention of getting as drunk as the last time when she’d gone overboard. Zacharias had embarrassingly had to carry her to bed after a wild round of absinthe. The memory of him gently lifting her in his arms to carry her up the stairs to her chambers caused her cheeks to flush. She would blame it on the champagne if he dared to notice.

“Hm,” Zacharias murmured, unconvinced, before taking a sip from his own glass.

“It seems my grandmother has invited half of northern Italy,” Cass remarked, casually swirling the glass in her hand so that its contents frothed and bubbled. “Or are you familiar with all these people?” she probed, raising her eyebrows at her companion with interest.

“You can’t help yourself, huh?” he teased her inquisitive nature affectionately. When she responded only with a determined, demanding gaze, he sighed. “Alright,” he began, worn down by her persistence, “What was the first thing you—quite aptly—noticed when we entered the room?”

“Do you have to turn everything into a lesson?” Cass rolled her eyes in exasperation. It was impossible to ever get a simple answer from Zach to a straightforward question. She couldn’t avoid his lecturing manner during their lessons, but the fact that he also amused himself by carrying this demeanor into their more private conversations made her frown.

He responded to her sharpness with a charming smile on his lips.

“The chandelier,” Cass replied, giving in to his game.

“And what exactly displeased you about it?” he challenged her further.

“The way that garish thing reflects the light. All that glittering nonsense. What is that?” She squinted slightly to examine the small colored objects hanging from the chandelier’s arms. “Are those glass shards?”

“Close enough. They’re stained glass stones. Very valuable. It’s an art to craft them so perfectly, to be honest,” he praised the work above their heads.

“Since when do you take an interest in glassblowing?” Cass chuckled.

“It’s not the stones that should catch your attention, dear. It’s the question of where this craftsmanship originates,” he said, now with a dark undertone in his voice.

“Venice,” she blurted out as she realized what Zach was hinting at. “Our guests aren’t possibly the…?” but she couldn’t bring herself to utter the name of that cursed clan.

Zacharias nodded silently, and her eyes widened in shock. Hastily, she emptied the rest of her glass in one gulp. She hadn’t expected this. Her family had always feuded with a rival clan based in Venice.

“She can’t be serious?!” she murmured, horrified.

“Always watchful,” Zacharias toasted her, proud that his protégé had solved the riddle he had laid out for her.

“Why in Merlin’s name would my grandmother invite her enemies? It makes no sense,” she stammered, bewildered.

“You know the saying: Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

“That’s a stupid saying. It’s not a rule to live by, and certainly not meant to fill your guest list,” Cass hissed, unable to hide her anger.

What was her grandmother thinking? Inviting the family that could very well be responsible for the death of her parents into her home, her sanctuary. Allowing this scum to cross the threshold. How dare they set foot under her roof. Hot, uncontrollable rage surged within her as she gripped her empty glass so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and the glass threatened to shatter under the pressure.

Zacharias’s concerned gaze shifted from her furious expression to her hand, and he gently enveloped her fingers with his own. The softness of his touch startled her briefly, and moss green eyes met steel blue in silent understanding. Without resistance, she let him take the glass from her hand.

“Now you understand why I hesitated,” he began cautiously, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upset?” she laughed coldly. “How dare they set foot in this house? Don’t they know I’m the daughter of their unfinished business?”

“They do. But I’m afraid they don’t care, Cass,” he continued gently. Yet her now-empty hand began to tremble.

“They don’t care? These people have my parents’ blood on their hands!” It was extremely difficult for her to keep her emotions in check.

“And yet we can’t prove anything. The Contarini are an ancient family, Cassandra.”

“I don’t care how far back their bloodline goes!” she spat, fists clenched in fury.

“This is how our world works. And your reaction is exactly why your grandmother didn’t tell you,” he concluded with a lowered gaze.

“To hell with her! Letting herself be lulled by wolves in haute couture with sparkling trinkets…” her voice trailed off, and her eyes fell on the rhinestone-adorned gown she was wearing.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “Don’t tell me I’m dressed in enemy satin?!”

“Cass,” Zach tried to calm her, but she was beside herself. She tugged and pulled at the countless stones embedded in the fabric, but to no avail.

Only when Zacharias stepped closer and took her rage-trembling fingers firmly in his hands did she pause. The fresh scent of citrus mixed with gentle notes of valerian, emanating from his clothing, soothed her. She knew causing a scene wouldn’t help anyone. So, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. As the unmistakable scent of safety wrapped around her, her anger ebbed away, carried off by the soft tones of the white meadow flower’s fragrance that surrounded everything Zacharias wore.

“Didn’t it occur to my brilliant grandmother that they’re probably here just to take me out? To finish her unfinished business?”

“Of course. Why do you think it was so important to her that you stand visible in the crowd?”

“I knew something was off about the whole thing! And I suppose the fact that you were there to greet me wasn’t a coincidence either?!”

Zacharias shook his head.

“And yet this cursed chandelier hangs over us like a damned sword of Damocles, just waiting for the right moment to crush us. I can’t believe it!”

“Cass. Listen to me. To reject a peace offering from the Contarinis is equivalent to a declaration of war. Don’t you understand that?”

“So we all dress up and pretend like there’s peace?! Are you serious? A peace as fragile and transparent as the shards hanging above our heads?!”

“That’s politics, Cass.”

“To hell with your politics. I’m leaving!”

Before she could storm off, Mrs. Montague approached them. She must have sensed that her granddaughter had figured out the game.

“Topolina, you look stunning,” she complimented Cassandra, but her tone felt more like a warning than praise.

“Grandmother,” Cass hissed through gritted teeth.

Zach politely bowed to his superior.

“And Mr. Boniface, how wonderful that you could make it,” she said, slightly lowering her head before raising it again solemnly.

“Cassandra, why don’t you mingle with the guests and enjoy yourself? After all, it’s a soirée. A Montague Soirée, Topolina.”

“I’m still a Darque, grandmother,” she retorted coldly, earning a dangerous glance.

“Perhaps, for now. But it’s rude to avoid society.”

“My company is right here by my side at your command, isn’t he?” she provoked further.

“Cassandra,” Augustina warned. How she managed to make her name sound like a whip crack was a mystery, but Cass could see the fire smoldering in her grandmother’s grass-green eyes. She was nearing a line she knew not to cross. “Why don’t you let Zacharias invite you to dance? Our guests would surely enjoy seeing how much fun you’re having in their gift.” Her eyes flicked to the black gown.

Cassandra bit the insides of her cheeks until she tasted blood, determined to keep the words on her tongue from escaping.

“Mr. Boniface, would you do my granddaughter the honor?” she asked Zach sweetly. But Cass knew this was no request—it was a command.

“With the greatest pleasure, Mrs. Montague,” Zacharias smiled politely, turning to Cass with a hopeful look and extending his hand for her to take.

Augustina’s hawk-like gaze was fixed on her granddaughter. This was a battle she could only lose. So, she accepted Zacharias’s outstretched hand, curtsying slightly, but not without keeping her eyes locked on her grandmother.

Zach led her to the center of the room. He placed his left hand on her waist, and his right fingers entwined with hers, wrapped in black silk. She could feel the eyes of the gathered crowd on her, and the burning sensation in her stomach threatened to reignite.

A gentle squeeze of her enclosed hand brought her back from her fury-clouded thoughts.

Zacharias set them into motion. With a grace she hadn’t expected from him, he led her smoothly. He was a man used to the rough, dirty business of her grandmother, and yet he moved with a gentleness that surprised her every time.

“Focus on me,” he whispered softly, spinning her on her axis.

The hem of her gown fluttered around her ankles before Zach gently pulled her back.

She appreciated his efforts to distract her, but she was tired of this charade.

“Look at me,” his deep, soothing voice vibrated.

And when she obeyed and met his gaze, her anger abated. Her pulse calmed, the fiery rage smothered.

They glided over the polished floor as if they were alone in the hall. Not once did they break eye contact as he swayed her elegantly to the music. There were few moments when Cass felt comfortable in her own skin, the gnawing feeling of not fitting in with this illustrious society—or even with her own family. But in his arms, she felt safe, welcomed, and at home.

A satisfied grin played on Zacharias’s lips as he regarded his protégée.

“It doesn’t matter whose clothes you’re dancing in, as long as you choose your own partner.”

“Have I really?”

“As if I had the power to force you into anything you didn’t want,” he chuckled.

He was right. What did it matter? She wouldn’t have accepted another hand for the dance. Her only ally in this hall of traitors was Zach. Her tutor, her companion, and so much more that she didn’t dare think further.

She smiled, finally.

“What do you think, how angry would my esteemed grandmother be if I made a little alteration to the dress?” she asked him mischievously, her eyes alight with fire.

“Who am I to deny you that fun?” he grinned back just as mischievously. And in silent agreement, he spun her quickly once more around her axis. The stones on her dress sparkled in the candlelight reflected from the chandelier.

In the graceful sweep of her spin, the black fabric fluttered around her silhouette. One by one, the stones on her dress seemed to fall away as if by magic, dropping like stardust around her until nothing of the once opulent decoration remained, and she stood in plain black in the middle of the hall.

With a hearty laugh, she reunited with Zach. Confused glances surrounded them. The song had ended, along with her performance on the political stage of Northern Italy. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her grandmother’s scowling gaze, her lips pursed in displeasure. But Cassandra didn’t care. She curtsied to Zacharias, thanking him with a wink for the liberating moment, before leaving the hall without another word.

She knew she had just left Zach in hot water. Her grandmother would grill him for allowing her to cause a scene. But Zacharias would endure it. He could handle anything her grandmother threw at him.

Away from the bustle of the festivities, Cass settled into her favorite spot by the crackling fireplace in the house library. She was deeply satisfied with herself. There weren’t many opportunities to so publicly disrupt her grandmother’s schemes.

The door to the library swung open, and Zacharias joined her on the sofa.

They exchanged a knowing glance.

“As I said before, nothing outshines you,” he teased playfully.

“I hope she left you alone?” Cass asked, concerned.

“Don’t worry. It’s not in your grandmother’s nature to follow one spectacle with another,” he assured her, signaling his unharmed state.

Relieved by his words, she relaxed. She knew it was wise not to push her grandmother too far. Cassandra might enjoy certain privileges as her only heir when it came to defiance or mere provocations, but Zacharias was merely a servant of Mrs. Montague, even if he was indispensable to her.

“And yet, she sent you to me. What are you here to tell me?” Cassandra pressed.

He let out a soft sigh before looking at her intensely. “That your actions will have far-reaching consequences beyond what you realize.”

“The usual lecture, then,” Cass rolled her eyes. “If she thinks I will bow to the murderers of my parents and play the perfect ballerina for their amusement, she’s mistaken,” she affirmed her stance with unwavering determination.

“How naughty of you to ruin her soirée,” Zach teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“She likes things lively and colorful. She shouldn’t complain that I added some life to her dull little event. Her guests will surely remember this evening,” Cassandra scoffed.

“I know I certainly will,” Zach chuckled.

Resting her hands in her lap, she sank deeper into the soft cushions of the sofa. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

At her question, Zach raised an eyebrow. He moved a little closer to her, letting his hand glide over the now unadorned black fabric covering her body. “I thought the dress was enough of a hint.”

His touch sent a shiver down her spine. “You overestimate my deductive abilities, Zach. That’s more your domain.”

“I don’t believe that. You little spy,” he teased further, his hand drifting down into her lap where her hands rested.

“What do you mean?” she gasped as their fingers brushed against each other.

“I saw you sneaking into your grandmother’s study last night. Did you find what you were looking for?” he whispered in her ear, now leaning in close.

His whispered words made her blush. She felt caught, and the heat in her skin rose.

“Well, I thought I had to take matters into my own hands since you haven’t delivered any information,” she whispered back, still refusing to look at him.

Zach abruptly withdrew his hand and clasped his left forearm with his right hand.

“It’s not as easy as you think, Cass,” he said, his voice filled with frustration, his expression as if the words caused him physical pain.

Cass sat up, turning her body toward Zacharias, her gaze sharp. “You’re her right hand and clearly knew all of our guests, including the Venetians. I’m no fool, Zach. You promised me.”

“And I’ll keep my promise. I just need time.” His grip on his forearm tightened, his expression growing more serious.

“Time,” Cass scoffed. “The more time passes, the more likely this scum will worm its way into our affairs.”

“Better safe than sorry. I have to work in secret, or I risk your grandmother catching wind of the whole thing,” he tried to calm her.

Now it was Cass’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “So, hanging onto my skirt and waltzing with me across the floor is subtle?”

“I only did what your grandmother asked of me. There’s nothing suspicious about that,” Zacharias replied with a charming smile.

Cass snorted. “And visiting me at night? Is that also in line with my grandmother’s wishes?” she prodded.

Zach looked at her, perplexed. “No. That’s entirely my decision,” he answered honestly.

“Mhm,” she hummed.

“I’ll stop immediately if it’s no longer your wish,” he assured her, his sincerity almost tangible.

“N-No. That’s not what I mean,” Cass huffed in frustration before rising and beginning to pace the room, continuously wringing her hands in her lap.

His eyes followed her steps with concern. “What are you trying to tell me, love?”

Cassandra stopped. She took a deep breath, letting her shoulders fall. “Every day I’m forced to remain caged here feels like a prison. My grandmother isolates me from important matters that also concern me. It frustrates me that the only things I can do to bring light into the darkness—the only things that bring me closer to avenging my parents’ murder—are attending pompous soirées or snooping through my grandmother’s documents. I don’t want pretty dresses or endless lessons in the dark arts. I want justice. Blood. Revenge.”

Rising from his seat and approaching her in long strides, he assured her, “And you’ll get it.” His steps stopped just in front of her.

Her gaze assessed his presence. As intimidating as he could appear, she could feel his submission, his support in all her plans. And yet, she was dissatisfied with how little progress they had made. “Yes, that’s what you promised me. But I see no progress,” she frowned.

“Cass,” his voice now took on a pleading tone.

She took a step closer to him. Even though he was a head taller than her, she knew her words would be enough to emphasize her point. “Maybe you need more incentive,” she provoked.

A faint, appreciative smile crossed his face as she challenged him. “You’re all the incentive I need,” he replied in a calm, deep voice.

“I hope so. Otherwise, I might have to reconsider our relationship,” she pressed, her tone playfully hard.

Zach perked up. “Our relationship?”

“Our arrangement,” Cass quickly corrected. “If you can’t keep your end of the deal, then…” Her hand trailed over the lapel of his jacket.

“Then what?” he replied, his voice husky. “You’ll tell your grandmother about our little liaison? I think not,” he chuckled softly.

She tilted her head as her fingertips stroked the fine material of his collar. “And what if I did? Hmm?” Her gaze flickered up to meet his. “Ever wondered how your handsome head would look on a stick?” she whispered dangerously.

Zacharias chuckled darkly, not retreating an inch, meeting her provocative behavior head-on. “I doubt I’d be granted such a swift end if your grandmother knew I was providing other services for her beloved, sheltered, and supposedly innocent granddaughter.”

A dark smile mirrored on Cassandra’s face. “Tell me, my loyal soldier, what would you prefer? Hanging or being burned alive? I know my grandmother cherishes and upholds the old traditions.”

She earned another deep, dark laugh from him. “For someone who earlier expressed disdain for political games, you’re playing them excellently. I’ve never been threatened more sweetly.” he purred.

“Careful. Someone might think you enjoy it,” she continued to provoke relentlessly.

“You know me—I live for the thrill,” a dark shadow passed over his steel-blue eyes, lending his face a darkness that made the blood in her veins simmer. A seductive wave of heat crept beneath her skin.

He cupped her face in his hands, brushing a strand of her hair aside before closing the remaining distance between them with an all-consuming kiss - sweet, dangerous and unholy. 

[clbenvs3000f24]

｡˚·ꕤ⋆Blog 5｡⋆❀

I’ve always been aware that my relationship with our earth is one very intuitive and enlightening by nature. I didn’t realize how heavily this would tie into my future career and role as a nature interpreter until this semester. As a biology and business major (BAS), I enrolled in this course with interest from a scientific and academic approach; however, as I answer each weekly prompt, I realize the sacred views I have of nature are not inherently how everybody feels about it. I’ve always felt a sense of belonging and “oneness” outdoors, surrounded by the ethereal and whimsical elements of nature and wildlife. Similarly, this blog has become an outlet for me to reflect and connect with individuals who share the same love for the natural world. I wasn’t quite sure of what to write for this week’s open topic. I considered talking about the detrimental impact fast fashion has on our environment, as it’s something I’ve always been pretty vocal about. After some thought, I realized I’ve been excessively reflecting on and comparing the differences between my opinions and experience to that of my peers. I’ve asked myself the questions “is it really that deep?” and “is my perspective not scholarly enough?”

While browsing through the collection of my peers’ blog posts, I’ve read about various perspectives of “nature interpretation” and how those views were formed through different life experiences. I’ve been captivated by photographs and entries written by a wide range of individuals, each telling tales of their own unique encounters with the outdoors all over the world! I’ve noticed a decent percentage of my peers are in environmental studies and expressed interest in future roles educating the public in national parks and museums. It’s evident that majority of us aspire to have future careers immersed in nature, encouraging others to increase their awareness to current environmental issues and preaching appreciation for nature as a whole. Likewise, I also envision a future for myself educating the public, but my passion for nature has always been tied to wildlife conservation and raising awareness for all species on our planet.

I’ve resonated with and related to numerous entries in the past four weeks, specifically with classmates who’ve expressed a significant emotional or spiritual connection with nature. I agree with everyone that nature can be very healing and physically/mentally soothing, but it goes far beyond that for me. Nature isn’t something I view as a place to go to escape the busyness and stress of life in our society, but something I wholly identify with.

To me, nature is mystical and enchanting: It’s debatably magical. I feel validated and connected after reading that some of you also see it through this transcendental lense! My introduction to this philosophic ideology was the first time I had considered the significance of maintaining the harmonious aura that connects nature and mankind. I can thank my grade 9 English teacher for introducing me to Henry David Thorough: I even glued the quote “All Good Things are Wild and Free” on my high school graduation cap.

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