#fuck this day im buying some wine after this shift

[neonsbian]

bad day ☹️

[lunarw0rks]

cod dudes with a nurse y/n but make it lowkey realistic: bc lets be real, after a 12 hr shift you do NOT want to hang out with friends, party, or socialize. ur feet hurt from walking and standing all day, your ears are tired from hearing the IV pumps beep all day, and the smell of C.diff makes u want to vomit. nurse y/n just wants to sit down or lay on the couch and be non-verbal... Gaz, price, and rudy are the sweetest. they pick that up real quick after mistakenly asking "hows ur shift" and y/n trauma dumped them for 5 hrs straight. they don't immediately ask for hugs and kisses bc they know u overwhelmed. they just pour u a cup of wine and sit next to you until YOU talk to them first. you lowkey gossip with them on ur day off or randomly be like "omg look at that dude over there next to the parking spot its giving edema". and then theres soap and ghost. Soap is clingy, yall really think hes gonna survive 12hrs of not seeing you? this man was waiting by the door at 7:15 pm. on the dot. wants to hug and kiss you and tell you about his day. but ur just so. fucking. tired. you tried to be as responsive but it always ended up with a tired "mhm". He legit got upset a few times but he'd be a good sport about it tho. eventually he caught on a couple of weeks in and now he just comes and hugs you from behind, kisses ur face, and cuddles you silently (AFTER you throw away ur dirty scrubs and shower. that C.diff smell is yucky yucky). Tells you he appreciates your care and effort for the patients every day :). Ghost.... omgg he said something lowkey offensive to you right after u got home from the worst shift of ur week. and he didnt even know WHAT he said/did, hes kinda bad a picking up ur cues. nurse y/n just turned around slowly, gave him the NASTIEST side eye, and stared at him for a good 2.5 min. This man immediately retreated from ur couch to wherever he was b4 like a hermit going back to its shell lmao. 2 hrs later you find a small written note and ur fave gurl dinner on the dining table.

Alejandro..... this man is SO PROUD of his s/o being a nurse. hes showing you off every chance he gets!!! He takes Nursing week SERIOUSLY. give you massages, spas, gifts, ect. but he doesnt get how tired and overwhelmed you are. you have to physically tell him to stop asking or letting his family asking medical question. "No ale. I will NOT look at auntie's mole on her stomach. when im off the clock im OFF THE CLOCK :("

Valeria threatens to beat up the management for you lol. she hates how you get treated by them sometimes. you didnt get the recognition you deserve. Def bosses her cartel men around to buy you gifts and such. one time she organized a whole day to spoil and pamper you. she gave you her own version of Daisy Award 🥺💞 Konig observes and internally analyzes ur every move. he panics tho. like "OMG she home but she already has a bottle of wine its different from the one she had yesterday.. omg omg she didnt even say hello that means her shifts was extra shitty today.... why is she sipping on the wine for so long and the last sip is longer than all previous sips........" He eventually learned you just need silent company. you were laying on the bed feeling burned out when he came over with some soup, kissed ur hand, and wrapped you in a blanket burrito :).

ah, realistic nurse!y/n. this is a breath of fresh air for me.

they're all trying their best. and honestly, what better pair? they also have an overstimulating, kinda gross (blood and bodily fluids), exhausting career !!

it's a match made in heaven !! (aside from the whole... miscommunication and barely seeing each other thing. but what's a good ship without some gut-wrenching angst?)

[alcoholandcakes]

𝓢/𝓸 𝔀𝓱𝓸’𝓼 𝓪 𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓬𝓲𝓼𝓽

<Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Atsushi Nakajima, Akutagawa Ryunnosuke, Yosano Akiko>

Dazai Osamu

- you have a lot of medicine at home

- please lock it away from him so he won’t try another attempt

- you only keep those ones around that he cannot overdose on

- “ HOW CRUEL OF YOU BELLADONNA? YOU DONT EVEN LOVE ME ANYMORE NOW DO YOU?”

- “ osamu I do love you but I won’t give you pills on which you can overdose- get that out of your mind right in this instant!”

- you can be pretty strict with him

- but it’s because you’re worried for him

- when he’s sick you always make sure that if you give him medication he doesn’t drink it down with alcohol

- he likes whiskey a little too much

- all in all he is fascinated by the fact that you know every medication, their side effects and what they’re for

- and he likes how you don’t allow him to just take it without your presence but he wouldn’t admit it

- it shows Him you care

- plus you bring him free bandages so it’s a win-win situation for him

Chuuya Nakahara

- you don’t need to worry about him trying to overdose with the pills you keep at home

- but you need to worry about him trying to drink it down with FUCKING WINE

- you always need to remind him to not drink wine

- one time he was a bit irritated and reminded him he started yelling

- “ DO YOU THINK IM THAT DUMB TO NOT KNOW THAT I SHOULDNT DRINK WINE WHEN TAKING IT?!”

- you just stayed calm looking at him with doe eyes and he apologized right away

- there wouldn’t be way too many arguments about it but he would get mad once in a while

- once he got sick and you were at work he tried to find himself some pills but there were so many he literally got lost 😭

- he needed to call you for assistance

- you assisted him as much as you could

- he loves how you can tell him right away what medication is for what

Atsushi Nakajima

- he doesn’t get what medication is for what so he keeps his distance

- you don’t need to worry about him really

- when he’s sick you stay at home with him because he won’t take pills

- he would rather suffer

- you usually give him only painkillers nothing more or herbal tea

- that helps him, he has a strong immunity

- you would even teach him what is for what

- he gladly learns because you’re passionate about it

- he loves to learn about it really

- so he knows the primary ones like frontin, Xanax, ibalgin

Akutagawa Ryunnosuke

- he’s pretty sick

- he has problems with his lungs so yeah

- you actually met him when he went to buy some medicine

- once when he came again you gave him your number on the bill with the text “call me up if ya wanna”

- well he called you out to go on a tea with him

- so you went out and got to know each other better but you mostly talked about pills and what he should take instead if he had bad side effects

- you started calling him after work and brought him his medication without him needing to pay

- first he looked weirdly at you and thought you wanted something from him

- he hardly realized that it was only your kindness

- you did this pretty often because you felt like he needed it

- after you got together with him and move in with him you made sure to always have at home what he needs

- when his condition gets worse you always stay home with him even when he’s so stubborn wanting to go to work

- but you force him to stay at home so he gets atleast a bit better

- he really loves you for it but doesn’t wanna show it

- you always take such a good care of him and now gin doesn’t need to worry so much because he’s in good hands

Yosano Akiko

- when she was getting a re-fill she met you

- she really liked you (love at first sight)

- she gave you her number right away that day

- you called her at the end of your shift and things just happened

- now she doesn’t even need to come to the pharmacy

- she just calls you and at the end of her shift you bring her the medication she needs

- she just loves the fact that your interest kinda match

- you can talk about work and you’ll understand each other

- you guys take care of each other

- when she has time she will bring you lunch to work

A/n: so rn I’m having ideas so yeah<3

I hope you guys stay well hydrated and safe I luv you guys so much <33

28.08.2022- Cali

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Snowed In 8

y'all.... I was in a mood... I’ve had a couple glasses of cheap wine... what can I say? My blog is a place of thirst, is anyone surprised? Plz avert your eyes if you're under 18.

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, all the yearning, unprotected sex, cockwarming, if you've got something against tubs? major ‘no one can find the emotional braincell’ vibes (plz hmu if there’s anything I didn’t tag I wanna make this a safe space for everyone to thirst together)

Summary: It’s the last night before they go back down the mountain 👀 some hella angsty sexy times. Im sorry the wine hit hard

Part 7 here

__________

The snow started to melt on day fifty nine. 

Everyone was elated, people were buying rounds for the crowded dining room and hollering when a slushy chunk of snow slid off the eves, but not you. You told Geralt you were just so sick and tired of the assholes in the dining hall you wanted to scream. If he didn't believe you, he hid it well. 

You were dreading leaving. Falling asleep curled into Geralt's side every night, sex or no sex, was safe and warm and home. You almost thought the anxiety and cabin fever would be worth it to go on with him so close. 

The night before you were supposed to leave, you once again found yourself nestled against him, sitting in front of the fire. His arms were no longer hesitant to wrap around you and, though your mind still reeled, your heartbeat didn't stutter under his touch. If anything your body only felt calm in his arms. 

You'd mumbled something about finishing this book before you left, it being the last of a set you were sure you'd never find outside of Novigrad, and Geralt had settled by the fire, pulling you with him without a word. As much as you enjoyed the book, you were finding it impossible to focus. Half of you wanted nothing more than to turn and kiss Geralt with everything you had, tell him you loved him, and accept whatever fate befell you. The other half was greedy and covetous. She reminded you that losing this, dignity be damned, would turn your heart to dust. 

"Y/N?" 

"Geralt?"

"You haven't turned the page in a while. I thought you were asleep." He gave you a gentle squeeze as he spoke. 

"Oh…" 

"You okay?" 

You sighed, letting the book fall closed and resting your head back against his chest, "Just restless I guess…" 

"Mmmm, it'd be a shame if we couldn't get a good night's sleep before our trek down the mountain." Geralt seemed to completely envelop you, his lips brushing your temple as he spoke. 

You held a hand over his arms, "A crying shame." You agreed, "But first a bath, I feel gross." 

You could feel his smile as he pressed his cheek to your hair, "A bath would be nice." 

This was almost perfect. 

Other than the fact that after this it's over.

You pushed the thought from your mind as you scrambled to your feet, gathering a couple towels and the soap. Geralt warmed the water as usual before the two of you stripped and hopped in. Or tried to.

"I don't think we're both going to fit," you giggled, one leg hooked over the side of the tub and one knee pulled into your chest, trying to make room for Geralt. 

He squatted down, extending his legs on either side of your body, "Just barely." He teased, reaching a hand toward your ankle dangling over the edge. He guided your legs on either side of his hips, his touch stoking the needy fire in your belly. 

The tub only allowed for you to scoot back so your knees were at his hips, which made scrubbing your body at the same time as him a little difficult, so you settled for just washing your hair. You got it all lathered up only to realize there wasn't any dignified way to rinse it. You sighed and shimmied a little closer to him so you could twist and bend back to dip your hair in the water. Geralt gripped your hips and pulled you into his lap before you could even try leaning over, earning a surprised squeak from you. 

You could see the lust in his eyes, but his voice was soft and patient, "Lean back. I've got you." 

You bit your lip and tried to ignore your heart fluttering at his words, leaning into his arm now wrapped around your waist. Your hips shifted,  making your core brush his already hard cock, a gasp falling from your lips. He pulled you back up out of the water quickly, the way he moved you setting your body on fire. 

You rocked your hips, notching his length between your folds and sighing in relief at some kind of friction. 

"Mmmmmm, almost." He purred, gripping your hips and holding you steady, "unless you can't wait for me to wash my hair?" 

The hungry look in his eyes was betraying his calm tone. You could break his resolve if you wanted to, but you also wanted to know where this was going. 

"And what if I can't?"

He grinned sitting up a little taller and pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear, "You could always wait on my cock…" 

His words went straight to your pussy, making you shiver, "Fuck, yes. Yeah I want that." 

He lowered his mouth to the side of your neck, nibbling at your jugular between words, "You want me to stretch you first?" 

You tried to rock your hips again, wriggling against his grip, "No," the word came out far more desperate than intended, but the last thing you wanted to do after hearing that was wait. 

He let go of your hips to guide one of your hands down between his thighs, "You can't move until I say, deal?" 

You nodded eagerly, your hand finding his length and lining him up with your entrance, "No moving." 

He gripped the edge of the tub with both hands as you sank over just his tip, moaning as you stretched around him. You took him ever so slowly, eyes fluttering closed when he shifted to lather the soap through his hair and pushed up another inch. You gasped and gripped the side of the tub with white knuckles. 

The slow stretch was marvelous. You felt every millimetre of him as you sank the rest of the way down until you felt him bump your cervix. Any twitch was felt, even the minute movements caused by his hands working through his hair. You opened your eyes looking directly into Geralt's. He didn't look away like he usually did and you almost wished he had. His eyes burned into yours, twisting something in your chest close to the breaking point. 

You tore your eyes away from his after too much time to justify and realized he had yet to rinse his hair. You let out a breathy giggle, brushing some suds out of his hairline, "Is this your new fashion statement?" 

He smiled and shook his head before slowly leaning back into the water. The redistribution of weight had him pushing up against you even more, making you clench and him grunt as he gripped the side of the tub. The amount of self control he had would have impressed if you weren't lost in memorizing exactly how he felt inside you. 

When he sat up and half pulled out you chased him, fighting every urge to grind your hips against his, "Can I move yet?" Your voice was higher than you'd enjoy admitting later, but at this point you didn't care how desperate you looked. You needed him. Not just to move, you needed him to hold you tight to his chest and soothe the ache in yours for at least a few more minutes. 

"Almost."

For a moment you forgot you were sitting on his cock, taken by surprise by that damned tone again. You furrowed your brow, about to ask him about it before he held your hips to him with one arm and moved you both back against the end of the tub, giving him more leverage and better use of his hands. 

You whined at the small shifts within you, "Geralt,"

He slowly lifted your hips so only his tip was left inside you, "Slow or fast?" His face was a mix of hopeful and absolutely lost, eyes begging for something from under heavy lids. 

You whispered your answer, leaning forward to brace yourself against the edge, a hand to either side of his head, "Slow." 

He sighed, almost in relief, and pushed into you again in deliciously long strokes. In the back of your mind you thought that now would be the time for neck bites, hickeys, hiding your face in his clavical, but his shoulders were just under the surface of the now choppy water. Either way you didn't think you'd be able to look anywhere but his face. He was staring up at you, his gaze so vulnerable and fervent that you thought you could cry. You gritted your teeth to cut off the tears before they showed on your face, drinking up every bit of him like this as you could. 

His eyes never left yours as he thrust, gradually picking up the pace. You felt yourself getting closer to an orgasm with every snap of his hips. You kept your moans to breathless whimpers or gasps, something about the moment being far too personal to broadcast to the rest of the inn. You clenched around him, not trusting your words not to ruin this feeling. 

Geralt grunted, sitting up just a little more so you had your arms draped around his neck instead of holding yourself up. He let you take the pace, reaching one hand to rub your clit as the other roamed your body. You felt him twitch and clench his jaw with the effort of holding back. Your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, as you rose and fell down his length, sending peaks of water over the edge of the tub. 

He picked up speed circling your clit and you let your forehead rest on his, eyes closing as you whined. You did your best to keep that flood of pleasure at bay just a little longer, wanting this to last forever, but it came crashing over you anyway. 

You pulled him closer to you, barely keeping the wherewithal to keep your lips to yourself as you rocked over him, holding your scream back to a strangled sigh and squeezing your eyes shut.  As soon as you came he let go, spilling deep into you. His soft moans reverberated over your whole body, almost making you dizzy with a whole different type of satisfaction. You slowed your hips, settling on Geralt's lap, still around his softening cock, forehead pressed against his. 

You didn't dare move as the two of you caught your breath, reveling in the feeling of being so close to him. You knew he'd started to recover when he laid one hand over your hip under the still warm water and the other cupped the back of your neck. You took a deep breath and opened your eyes to find his still closed, just as if he were sleeping. If you hadn't been so disoriented you might have called the look on his face reverence, but you just labeled it sweet. You untangled your hands from his hair only to trail your nails over his scalp and through the rest of the length. The contented hum you drew from him almost had you lurching forward to kiss him. 

His lips were mere inches away, but you held your ground. If you were the one to initiate a kiss and he rejected you you really didn't think you'd be able to come back from it. So you waited, praying he'd push forward the two inches between your lips and end the all-consuming tension. 

He never did. His hand slipped from the back of your neck, over your shoulder and down your back, sending chills up your spine. 

"Ready to get out?" 

 You shook your head with the smallest of movements, earning a chuckle from deep in his chest. You were determined to savor every moment, every breath. 

When you eventually got out of the bath and into bed you curled into his side and fell asleep, dreaming of staying right there forever. 

__________ 

part 9 here!

Tag list! Yall make me so damn happy 💕 I just love you😘

@ab-haya @fire-in-her-veinz @cavillhavoc @baliebay19

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 13: Paper And Ink]

A/N: Can I just take a second to say how happy I am to see all of your reactions to my little fic?! I have never been a super popular writer on Tumblr but I like to think that I have some of the cleverest, kindest, most thoughtful readers around. Your support for and emotional investment in my stories makes me so, so, so happy. Please enjoy this latest chapter...it’s the longest one yet! 💜

Also, MAJOR shout out to @writerxinthedark​ and her constant insanely astute observations!! Girl, I’m shook. Do you have ESP or what...? 👀

Chapter summary: Roger tries to reach a compromise, John tries to offer solace, Chrissie tries out some retro science, Y/N tries to process some alarming new information.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language! Discussion of substance abuse! Babies! Drama! Angst!!!

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​ @pomjompish​ @writerxinthedark​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You can’t leave,” John pleads. One of his hands—strong, nimble, a gold band on his wedding finger—is clutching the wooden bedpost. Chrissie paces back and forth beside him, gnawing her thumbnail until it bleeds, silent tears streaking down her ruddy cheeks.

You throw your open suitcase onto the bed and start yanking things out of drawers: panties and bras—the practical ones, not the sexy ones, I won’t be needing those in the immediate future—jeans, velvet dresses, sweaters, socks, mittens, scarves. It’ll be cold in Boston. “I’m going home.”

“Love, please...” Chrissie sobs.

“I’m not staying here.” Your voice is surprisingly steady, resolved even. “I’m not going to stay in this house with him. I’m not going to follow him around the world watching him fuck other women and humiliate me in tabloids. I’m done, I’m going home.”

“You have a contract with the record company, you’re the tour nurse!” Chrissie protests. “Jesus christ, they could sue you for non-performance! When does the band leave, a week from now?!”

“Six days,” John says softly.

“Six days!” Chrissie shouts at you.

“I’m not going. They can sue me, that’s fine.” I don’t have any money anyway. None that’s actually mine.

“You can’t leave,” John says again. His greyish eyes are wide and restless, desperate; you didn’t know it was possible for him to be this agitated. He’s not Queen’s unflappable bassist today.

“Yeah? Observe.” You pick the pink conch shell up off the dresser—the one John found for you on the beach in Ostia, during a tour that feels like a lifetime ago—and tuck it gently into a corner of your suitcase where it will be cushioned by knit sweaters. “John, I have a bunch of your sketches downstairs. There’re some on the refrigerator, some framed in the living room, a couple on the dining room walls...will you go get those for me, please? I can’t leave without them.”

John just stares at you, blinking and thunderstruck.

Next to the empty space on the dresser where the conch shell once lived is the Canon F-1. You consider the camera for a moment, then snatch it up and move to hurl it out of the second-story window.

John jolts out of his paralysis. “No no no no, I think you’ll regret that.” He gently pries the Canon out of your grasp and places it back on the dresser.

“What the hell are you going to do in Boston?!” Chrissie wails. “All your friends are here now! Your life is here!”

“I’m going to get a job at the hospital and marry some boring, predictable man and get a house with a white picket fence and fill it with two exceptionally average children”—if I can have them, and that’s a big if as it turns out—“and a golden retriever and live out the rest of my days in blissful, prosaic anonymity. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on, you don’t want that!” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve never wanted that, that’s why you came to London with the band to begin with!”

“I don’t want to feel like this!” you scream, and all those tears you didn’t know you were biting back start spilling out in hot, torrential streams. Your breath hitches; your throat burns. Like wildfire. John pulls you to his chest, murmurs that everything will be okay, cradles the back of your head with his palm. You know he’s exchanging a glance with Chrissie over your shoulder. That’s why she brought him here, after all; to help talk you off the ledge, to help convince you to stay.

“What a fucking mess,” Chrissie says in despair.

“It’s my fault,” you choke out.

“It’s not,” John whispers.

“It is,” you insist bitterly, sobbing into him. “Everyone warned me and I ignored it because I’m a complete idiot and now I’ve gone and ruined my life.”

“You don’t have to go!” Chrissie implores. “You can stay here. With us, with me and John and Mary and Freddie and Brian. You have British citizenship, you can get a job at a hospital in London if you really want to leave the band. You can stay with me and Bri for as long as you need to until you’re back on your feet, or with Freddie...they’d give you any amount of money you needed to get started...they’d be heartbroken if you left, love, you’ve been there for them through everything, since Queen was just a bunch of nobodies, since we were all flat broke...they’re never going to forget that loyalty you showed them, that faith. They’d do anything to repay you.”

You sigh shakily as you untangle yourself from John and wipe your eyes. “If I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life dodging Roger at birthday parties and holidays and restaurants. And being known as the wife he fucked around on. I’ll be a pitiful mess of a person. They had a photo of me in the News Of The World, did you know that? A tiny little circular photo under a huge, glamorous one of Dominique. ‘Look everyone, check out the dashing rock star’s sad, pathetic, unremarkable, soon-to-be-ex-wife. Surely you can appreciate why he’d shop around.’”

“Yes, I saw that part,” Chrissie says softly. She understands some of what you’re feeling, surely, and yet she must also have a sensation of gratefulness; plenty of musicians wander like tornadoes, touching down and sowing chaos wherever their compulsions take them, but few wives have the misfortune of seeing their names and faces paraded through the tabloids. Suddenly, Chrissie isn’t the most-wronged wife in Queen anymore.

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god. My parents might even hear about this. They could be buying wine and Cheetos at the grocery store and see my husband and his girlfriend on the cover of a magazine in the checkout line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chrissie replies, her voice hoarse. John crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing; but he kicks the wooden bedframe hard enough to send a crack down the center of the footboard.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Chrissie and John whirl to you, panicked.

“Hey, love of my life!” Roger’s chipper voice vaults up the staircase. Someone hasn’t checked the headlines yet. “Baby? You home?”

“Do you want me to stay?” John asks you.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. I’ll hide in the goddamn bushes outside the window if that would be helpful.”

“No, John.” You smile and climb onto your toes to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, to hug him goodbye. He’s warm and comfortable and sheltering. He feels more like home than this house ever has, isn’t that strange? And for a second, just one, you wonder what your life would look like if there had been no Veronica, no Roger.

You’d still be in Boston, you idiot, you chastise yourself. You never would have come to London with Queen if it wasn’t for Roger. And You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about you.

“Thank you,” you tell John. “But I have to do this part myself.”

“Okay. Don’t you dare go cart yourself off to Heathrow without telling me first, alright?”

“Sure,” you say, not meaning it. I can’t let him stop me.

“Good luck,” Chrissie frets, wringing her hands, twirling her wedding ring. “Call me, okay? I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I hear from you. I’ll chew my poor fingers to the bone.”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Hey baby!” Roger materializes in the bedroom doorway, pushes his prescription sunglasses up into his windswept blond hair, peers around the room at you and John and Chrissie. And you’re suddenly reminded of how a room changes when Roger walks into it, how everything shifts somehow, becomes brighter, more alive, brimming with magnificent potential; how cavernously empty the world would feel without him in it. Chrissie glares at him with her arms crossed, nostrils flaring, tapping one fashionable riding boot against the hardwood floor. “Uhhhh...am I interrupting something?”

“Bye, love.” Chrissie kisses you quickly on each cheek and breezes out of the room. You hear her boots clopping as she descends down the staircase. After a moment, John follows her.

“You despicable prick,” John hisses as he passes Roger in the doorway.

Roger is mystified. “Baby, what’s going on?” His eyes flick to the hastily packed suitcase, to the cracked footboard. “What the fuck happened to the bed?”

There are so many ways to ask the same question. When did you decide that you needed to have her? Who is she to you? How could you do this to me? What did she give you that I couldn’t? Instead, what you ask him this: “Have you seen the News Of The World today?”

His brow furrows into deep grooves. “No...” But something primal flashes in his vivid blue eyes, just briefly. Something like fear. He knows he’s done things that would hurt me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unearth them all.

You grab the magazine off the bed and hurl it at him. Roger picks it up off the floor and flips to the front page. His shoulders slump, one hand comes up to cover his mouth, he exhales in a deep sigh; his whole body shifts the same way a room does when he walks out of it: dims, deflates, goes bloodless. He calmly lays the News Of The World on the dresser, folds his sunglasses and sets them down as well, rubs his eyes with the heels of his calloused hands. Then he turns to you.

He’s going to deny it, you think, revolted. He’s going to deny it just like Brian did, try to patch things up in some weak and gutless way, placate me so he can drift off to sleep at night imagining he’s a good husband.  

But Roger isn’t Brian. He never has been.

He asks you quietly, in surrender: “What do you want to know?”

Your stomach plunges into freefall, because this is real. Maybe there was some part of me that was hoping this was a mistake, some naïve and hopeful sliver of idealism left over from childhood, from a time when everything in the world was either good or evil and nothing lived in the treacherous shadows in between. “How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Roger, it matters.”

“Not long.” He waves a hand glibly. “She...ah...well she thought I was pretty maddening at first. It took her a while to come around to the idea.”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped. “Jesus christ, Roger. Thank you, that’s great, thank you for that information.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he protests, exasperated. “I’m really not, I don’t...I just don’t...bloody hell, I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what? To fuck around?! Obviously that’s inaccurate—”

“No, to confess!” he shouts. “I never confess, I never admit it, I just avoid or deflect or deny it, and when that doesn’t work anymore I just walk out because usually I don’t care enough to have the conversation. But now I do so I’m really, really trying to give you what you want. I thought you wanted answers. So ask me whatever you want to and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Everyone lies. Everyone disappoints you. I knew that, I really did...but somehow I let him convince me that I didn’t. That he was built of nothing but light. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s a fling, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t corner her somewhere and tell her that you’re planning on breaking up with me.”

Roger winces. I wasn’t going to end up like Josephine, that was the first promise I made to myself on British soil. And look where I am now. “No. Never.”

“Why, Roger?”

He looks away, runs his hands through his hair; he genuinely doesn’t know how to answer.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you even sorry...?”

He speaks carefully, purposefully. “I’m sorry you had to find out, that you were hurt by it. And I’m really fucking sorry about that headline. Discretion is extremely important to me. I never would have let that happen, but you know...” He shrugs, smirking guiltily in that disarmingly bewitching way that he does. Stop, you warn yourself, feeling something in you grasping for reasons to stay. “I haven’t been thinking especially clearly lately.”

“Yes, between the coke and the drinking and the pills you’re quite the disaster, aren’t you?” Scalding tears slither down your face. “So you’re not sorry you did it. You’re not sorry that you’re an addict or a cheater.”

“It’s not about that. It’s...” He searches for the words like premonitions in tea leaves. “Yes, there are drugs and parties and women. There are a lot of those things. But I’m not addicted to any of them. I’m addicted to being Roger Taylor, drummer of one of the best bands in the world. It’s everything I am, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. I never want to live in a world where that’s not who I am anymore. You understand that, what it’s like to feel caged and miserable, you know what it’s like to want to experience things. And so if it takes coke and pills to get up on that stage every night and drum under those blinding lights until it feels like my arm is split open again, okay, no problem, I’ll do it. If women are a part of the lifestyle, a part of being free, then I’ll take advantage of that. And why the fuck does it matter? Why do so many people think that fidelity is the ultimate manifestation of love? Plenty of faithful people hate each other. Plenty of people who screw around are irretrievably in love with one person, are fucking owned by them. I love you. I want to come home to you. I want to raise my children with you if that’s a possibility, and if it’s not then fine, whatever, I’m gonna love you all the same. You’re still on my list, Boston babe. You’re always going to be on my list. Why isn’t that enough?”

“John doesn’t cheat,” you object helplessly. Even if he has all the reasons in the world to.

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s a very different kind of man. A better one, probably. But you’ve always known who I was. And I never promised you an ordinary life.”

You shake your head, hide your face in your hands, can’t force the words to leave your trembling lips. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I thought it could be, but it’s just not.

Roger says, gently: “I know we said the marriage didn’t mean anything”—yes, that was your condition, wasn’t it?—“but that’s not completely true. It’s not just paper and ink. It does mean something. It means that you’re the person I want to take care of, the person I can rely on to provide for my family and friends if something ever happened to me. It means that I love and trust you in a way that is unconditional. That you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to live like this, Roger,” you whisper.

“So what’s next?” he demands. “So you’re going to take that suitcase and run back to the States and...what, get a job at the same hospital you were so desperate to escape from? Back out of the tour? Abandon the band and the friends you have here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you.”

For the first time, you hurt him; you really hurt him. You see it ripple across his face like cold, swirling ocean waves. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided, Roger.”

“Come on, baby, please, we can work this out—”

“I’m not interested.” You zip the suitcase closed, heave it off the bed, and drag it towards the door.

“So even if we can’t work it out,” Roger erupts, bolting to the doorway, to stand between you and whatever a life after him looks like. “Don’t leave the band. Leave me, just me, but not the band. I know you don’t want to leave them. I know they’ll be devastated if you disappear, not to mention they might legitimately murder me over it. Bri can be a twat, sure, but he’s convinced you saved his life. You and I might be the only people on the whole fucking planet who can see how brilliant John is, who understand him. Freddie’s convinced you’re some kind of good luck charm, you know how superstitious he is, he’ll start having those meltdowns again where he insists he can’t sing five minutes before a show and that the band is doomed, the tour will be a complete disaster. We need you. And I want you to keep the job you love, the travel, the mansion, the money, I want you to have all of it. You’ve earned it. You shouldn’t lose it because of me.”

And as you clutch the handle of your suitcase, your mind dashing from one logistical step to the next—grab my passport and some cash out of the safe, collect all of John’s sketches, call a cab to take me to Heathrow—you start remembering things. But you don’t see them like flashes, like misty reveries, no; you feel them like heat from a roaring fireplace, like Mediterranean pebbles digging into the wrinkled soles of your feet, like the deafening screams of crowds filling the Rainbow Theater, the Hammersmith Odeon, the Apollo, the Budokan, Madison Square Garden. Memories of excavating shards of glass from John’s hand in a New Orleans mansion crawling with fantasies and nightmares, of toasting pink champagne in the lobby of the Chelsea Register Office, of museums and parks and beaches and apartments filled with threadbare couches and extravagant dreams, of Christmases and New Year’s Eves, of Roger convincing you to come to London with Queen on a June morning in 1974, cradling your face in his rough hands, promising you everything you’ve ever wanted: ‘Love...Accept. The fucking. Offer.’ And you could run to the other side of the world, sure; but you’re never going to be able to carve those memories out of your bones.

You let go of the suitcase, and Roger’s smile lights up his face like the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful...careful, love...” Roger contorts himself to keep the umbrella over you and the Boston cream pie you’re carrying as rain pours out of a sinister grey sky. You both hurry beneath the roof that covers the front porch and ring the doorbell. Freddie answers wearing a tight green shirt, jeans, and an enormous toothy grin.

“Oh, for me?” he squeals, eyeing the pie.

You step inside as Roger stays out on the porch to shake off the umbrella and finish his cigarette; Chrissie hates people smoking in her house, and one should get what they want on their birthday. “Obviously, it’s for Chris. But I suspect she’ll share.”

Chrissie appears in a blue dress, her wide-set pale eyes alight as she gazes at the pie. “At last! I finally get to try one of these! And yes, Freddie, I’m only going to have the teeniest tiniest piece, so there will be more than enough to go around.” She embraces you and takes the pie. “Is this homemade?! It is, isn’t it?”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie,” you announce with a tired smile. Queen leaves for the News Of The World Tour in two days. You’re leaving with them, to everyone’s palpable relief; Freddie and Brian have never mentioned the headline to you, but they know about it of course. Everybody knows. It’s an elephant in every room, an ancient beast that quakes the floor when it walks.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Chrissie tells you. “I always do.” But she’s a little thankful, too; because spending months away on tour is undoubtedly preferable to a permanent absence, a visibly missing piece like a chip in a tooth.

“I know. I’ll call.”

Roger steps inside the massive Chelsea home. “Happy birthday, Chris!”

She promptly spins away, ignoring him, and ferries the pie off to the kitchen. Freddie wraps an arm around Roger’s shoulder and steers him into the living room where Mary, John, a perpetually pregnant Veronica, and a host of assorted Mullens and Mays are passing the twins around like footballs and chatting over appetizers and tea and cookies. Biscuits, you correct yourself. And the shrimp cocktail are called prawns.

“What did you say your name was?” a middle-aged, rotund, bearded man asks John disinterestedly. “Josh? James?”

“John, actually. I’m the bassist.”

The man frowns as he gobbles down a shrimp. “Oh, how odd, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Yeah?” Roger pipes as he sails over and claps the man aggressively on the shoulder. “Well let me introduce you. This is John Richard Deacon and he wrote You’re My Best Friend, you’ve heard of that one, right? He learned the electric piano to compose it. Yes, he doesn’t just play bass, he has all sorts of gifts. He’s massively talented. He builds amps and manages finances and can sketch pictures that look like freaking photographs...”

You wander into the kitchen where Chrissie is slicing herself a miniscule portion of Boston cream pie. “Oh fuck it, it’s my birthday. I’m having a proper piece of pie, thighs be damned.” She goes in for a second attempt. “You want any?”

“No, I’m alright. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Not compulsively consuming your own weight in snacks to avoid socializing with strangers? That’s unlike you.”

Well, since you asked, I was feeling even more piggish than usual until I found out my husband was fucking somebody else, and also that the entire country knows about it. “Yeah, weird.”

Brian enters the kitchen. “Oh, pie!”

“You want a piece?” Chrissie asks cheerfully. So they’ve made up somehow. Like they always do, like they always will.

“Yes, absolutely, but I’ll get it myself, love. You go enjoy yourself. It’s your day.”

She beams up at him and journeys out to the living room. You are in no rush to join her. Watching Roger charm the crowd, allowing him to dazzle you, to lull you back into his orbit like the subsidiary moon of a vast, ringed planet...no, you have no stomach for that at all. You pour yourself a glass of red wine and try to swallow without tasting it.

Brian’s doting demeanor evaporates like he’s taken off a mask. He sighs, mixes himself a Vesper, sips it as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies you warily. “How are things?”

“Paradisiacal.” Each night you sleep in the guest room with the blue-grey walls and the seahorse-patterned blankets. Roger tried to give you the main bedroom, still sleeps in a spare room in case you ever decide you want it; but you like that the blue room is smaller, more humble, that it smells like John’s brand of cigarettes, that there is no gaping emptiness where Roger usually is. Roger doesn’t try to talk to you about Dominique. He is attentive, optimistic, easygoing, affectionate; he lights the fireplace in the living room and brings you hot chocolate, he wears the red hat you once knit him every time he leaves the house. But he left the paperwork showing he’d sold the apartment—the ‘London Love Nest,’ isn’t that what the headline called it?—out on the kitchen table where you would see it. You know he’s waiting for you to forgive him, as if that’s an inevitability. And every once in a while you feel a guttural stab of fear that he might be right. Someone puts Hotel California on the record player out in the living room. “Every time I hear this goddamn song I get acid trip flashbacks. I start thinking of sharks for some reason.”

“It reminds me of...” Brian’s gaze goes murky. “Well, of a girl from New Orleans.”

The one from the hot tub. The one with a peach tattooed on her shoulder blade.

“We have a stop there,” you say. “You know, on the tour. We’ll be there for a few nights.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

No, perhaps that’s all he’s been thinking about.

“How are you these days, Bri? Two beautiful children, adoring wife, We Will Rock You becoming a fantastically successful single...your world must seem pretty golden.”

“You’d think so.” He peers out the window where raindrops are clinging to fogged glass and the November skies are illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning like Morse code. At last he says, very softly: “I think I married the wrong person.”

“I think I did too.”

Bri raises his eyebrows and clinks his Vesper against your wine glass. “So we were both right. Fantastic. Cheers.”

You gulp down the rest of your wine, feeling your stomach roil in protest. You pour another glass. Brian drains his Vesper.

“You want me to escort you out there?” Brian asks, gesturing towards the living room. “I’ll happily redirect everyone’s attention towards the twins if you’d like. They’re very convenient conversation starters.”

“No, thanks Bri. You go ahead.”

“Alright. If you insist.” A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us, love. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. And I’m sure things won’t feel easy for a long time. But Queen wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there before I punch you in your fragile liver.”

Brian laughs, sets his glass in the sink, and disappears into the living room. You stall in the kitchen by yourself. You sip wine, browse through the family photos displayed on the refrigerator, listen to the polite chatter of the guests from a distance. Eventually you venture towards the living room before losing your nerve and veering down the hallway towards the back porch. Outside the rain is falling torrentially, the sky rumbling with thunder. John is sitting on a wooden bench under the roof and smoking as he gazes out into the storm.

“Hey,” he says, sliding over to make room for you on the bench.

You sit down beside him and hold out your hand. He stares at you for a moment, puzzled, before passing you his cigarette. You take one long drag and give it back to him. John blinks at you, stunned.

“That’s extremely bad for you,” he teases.

“So is getting hammered and driving into cop cars.”

He clutches his chest. “Ouch. I felt that in my soul.”

You shove him, chuckling. He points down at your boots. You swing your feet up to rest in his lap, and he lays his left hand on them while he smokes with his right.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I know you might not want to talk about it. That’s fine. But if there’s any baggage you’d like to unburden yourself of, I’m listening.”

I’ve got baggage, all right. I’ve got enough to fill a Boeing 747. “Everyone warned me. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea to fall in love with him. Everyone except you, John. Why is that?”

He’s slow and deliberate when he answers. “I never wanted you to be with someone because...you know...because you thought you should be with them. Because they were the ‘smart’ choice or the ‘safe’ choice or whatever. I wanted you to make your own decisions, whatever those were. I wanted you to be with someone...whoever that was...only because you wanted to be. Because you loved them.”

You nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I told you once that it didn’t mean anything to someone like Roger when he...you know. When he does what he does. I was telling the truth then, and I’m telling the truth now. I don’t think it meant anything to him. And I don’t know if that kills any of the pain I know you’re feeling, but I hope it does. Because you being in pain is the absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted. Are you angry with me for not trying to change your mind?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you mean it. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because they took away my driver’s license for a year and I’m probably going to need a lot of rides from you.”

You laugh, a brash authentic laugh, and John grins over at you.

Chrissie hauls the sliding glass door open and steps out onto the porch with a frustrated huff. “I know this party is technically for me, but when you’re the mother of infant twins sometimes all you really want is a smoke, a nap, and a bottle of vodka.” She lights a cigarette and plops down into a chair facing the bench.

“How are you, Chris?” What you mean is: Have you screamed much at your husband lately?

“I’m doing pretty well today, actually.”

“Is that because you’re genuinely happy or because you’ve trained yourself not to be sad?”

Chrissie smirks. “You’ll find those feel like the same thing after a while.”

“No, I won’t find out. Because I’m not staying with him.”

“Love...” Chrissie begins.

“I’ll stay in London. I’ll even stay with the band. But I’m not going to stay married to him.”

“Y/N, please, maybe you should think about this,” Chrissie presses. “I know you love him. And I know he makes you wonderfully happy when times are good. Maybe that’s all we can ask for, you know? Wives in our predicament. Maybe we can learn to cherish them when they’re with us, bottle up the magic, store it on a shelf to tide us over until they come back home. No one else is going to light you up the way he does. There’s only one Roger Taylor. Withdrawal from that is going to be hell.”

You glower out into the wind and rain and say nothing.

“And that woman, Dominique Beyrand? I’ve asked around about her, she’s got some husband back in France that she goes home to when she’s not working here. It’s just a fling for her too, it’s nothing serious. I don’t think there was any chance he would have ever considered actually leaving you for her.”

“He bought her an apartment, Chris.”  

“Men do stupid things that don’t mean anything all the time. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Sure,” he offers ungenerously.

You stop yourself before the words tumble recklessly from your lips: Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, Chrissie. “I’m divorcing him,” you vow quietly.

“Okay,” Chrissie capitulates. “Okay. I’m sorry, love, please forgive me. I only got two hours of sleep, Teddy was crying all night.” She puffs on her cigarette and sighs mournfully. “I hate to say it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I guess it was sort of lucky you never got pregnant. Can you imagine trying to split up when you have children together? Working out custody and finances and holidays, having to pretend like you don’t want to disembowel each other all the bloody time...it would be torture.”

John glares at her, his left hand still on your boots.

“Yeah,” you respond; but now you’re distracted, because you remember the reason why you had been so determined to ignore the phone when Chrissie called to warn you about the News Of The World headline. Because the kitchen phone was right next to the calendar, and the calendar would report in no uncertain terms that your period was due.

When was that? A week ago?

You can’t be late. You’ve never been late.

“Oh god,” you breathe.

“What?” John asks, concerned.

In reply, you lurch off the bench, stumble to the edge of the porch, and vomit red wine into the wet grass like a gush of blood. Chrissie soars to you and rubs your back as you retch into her lawn. “Oh no, you poor thing!”

“John, go away,” you choke out as he approaches. “I’m humiliated, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You saw me in a jail cell. I’m staying.”

You turn to look up at them. They read the raw horror and shock in your eyes. John’s jaw falls open and he shakes his head, firmly in denial. You could relate.

Chrissie gasps. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“No fucking way,” you wheeze. “After all this time, after all those months of nothing...”

“You better take a test,” Chrissie says. “Come on, I have a kit upstairs.”

She pulls you to your feet and leads you to her bathroom, deftly avoiding the increasingly intoxicated crowd downstairs. John waits just outside the door as Chrissie rummages around in the closet for the test kit. It’s a contraption that looks like a chemistry set, with a dropper and a test tube and a stand with a mirror. You piss into a paper cup—successfully although not with flying colors—and wash your trembling hands in the sink with a piece of pink soap shaped like a seashell. Then you lay on the cold linoleum floor with a folded towel for a pillow and a bucket within reach. Chrissie trickles a few droplets of urine into the test tube, mixes in the contents of a small plastic vial, and places the test tube in the holder that suspends it above the mirror.

Chrissie explains to John: “If she’s pregnant, the chemicals will form a brown ring in the tube. If there’s no ring, we’re in the clear.”

“How fitting,” you chuckle from the floor, dazedly, cynically. “That would be the only ring I’ve ever gotten.”

It takes two hours. The three of you loiter in the bathroom, Chrissie and John perched on the rim of the enormous garden tub, fidgeting and chitchatting anxiously. They alternate popping downstairs, mingling just long enough to not arouse suspicions, bringing back biscuits and bits of toast that they futility try to coerce you into eating. Chrissie doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes in the house, she never has; but now both she and John are chain smoking as they wait and periodically get up to check the test tube.

“This isn’t real,” you whimper. “This can’t be real, right? There’s no way the universe has this ironic a sense of humor.”

“Wait, something’s happening.” John waves Chrissie over to the test kit. She examines it.

“Love...” Chrissie begins, her voice tentative, her eyes glossy.

“No,” you insist. “No way, no fucking way, I don’t believe this...”

Chrissie turns the kit so you can view it, so you can see what she does reflected in the tiny mirror: a single dark ring that informs you you’re carrying Roger’s child.

[flamehairedwritings]

Hi! Would you be able to do a headcanon for Hopper asking you out on a date and the actual date? Thanks so much 💕

Apologies again for how late this is!!

Asking You Out

listen,,,,

Jim Hopper is a man who knows what he wants. He flat out says it most of the time.

When it comes to asking women out in Hawkins, because of his reputation, they know what to expect; you’re gunna fuck at the end of the night and it’s gunna be one of the best nights of your life.

But there’s a difference when it comes to Jim Hopper asking a woman out to get a drink, and him asking her out to get dinner.

drink = fuck

dinner = relationship

He knows you. Everyone in Hawkins knows everyone, to some degree. There’s only a handful of bars in the town so he’s always seeing you, and many a night he’s contemplated asking you out for a drink or seizing the night and buying you a drink now.

Tonight, he’s going to. He’s very much going to. In fact, he does. He goes up to where you are sat alone while your friend has gone to the bathroom, and clears his throat.

You turn your head, meet his gaze, and then he sees it.

The minute face you pull.

He ignores it, hey, no one really likes the Chief of Police coming up to talk to them even if he’s off duty.

You introduce yourselves, you being very polite, and engage in some small talk. He thinks he’s doing damn good, being very charming and suave, asking about your day, holding your gaze, trying to not too obviously undress you, and then… and then you pause, and sigh.

Giving a very polite smile, you say, ‘Look, Hopper, I think I’ll save you some time and just say that I’m not going to sleep with you. You’re nice, but, sorry, I think you’d have better luck elsewhere.’

He stares at you, stunned, quite frankly.

‘Right, okay…’

He really felt the gravity of it, then, his reputation. That women were just expecting him to ask them out for a fuck drink whenever he approaches, and that was the kind of man he’s seen as.

Well, he’d show ‘em.

‘… I was actually comin’ over to ask you out for dinner.’

It’s your turn to stare now, your lips parting.

Dinner. Dinner? Was that code for something now? You can’t remember the last time you’d heard that Jim Hopper had asked a woman out for dinner, and you know you’d remember it because it’s so damn rare.

You close your mouth, pause, then accept with a smile, because you just had to see how this was going to go, and figure out once and for all what kind of a man Jim Hopper is.

He nods, asks if tomorrow night is okay, which it is, and he says he’ll see you at Enzo’s at 7:30.

You say your goodbyes, and then he’s walking away, still stunned, and you stare at your drink as your friend returns.

‘Uh… What did I just miss?’

‘… I’m not quite sure.’

The Date

What the fuck is he doing.

He’s not interested in a relationship right now, he doesn’t want to burden anyone with what his life brings.

Which includes him.

Throughout the day leading up to it, he’s… nervous. Agitated. A touch more irritable than usual.

How does he even want this to go??

You won’t sleep with him, he’s made that clear, so… What? He’s just gonna have a meal with someone and get to know them?

Oh.

Like an actual date.

He’s there early, which is a miracle for him, but that’s mainly down to Flo finding out about it, as she always seems to do, and practically marching him out of the door to go home the moment his shift ends.

He figured he did want to impress you and show you he’s not an asshole, so he dressed nice, clean shirt and jacket, clean trousers, showered, washed and dried his hair, combed it and his beard.

Flo had made a reservation earlier in the day so he couldn’t back out with any kind of excuse and he sits at the table at 7:16, straightening his jacket and folding his long legs.

He orders a glass of wine for himself and water for the table, figuring you won’t mind if he gets started with just a drink, at least.

You arrive at 7:27 and he pauses as he watches you enter, his eyes managing to trail your body before snapping up to meet your gaze before you catch him.

You look fucking hot.

He rises from his seat as you near, smiling warmly and he pauses, slightly awkwardly, not knowing how you’ll want to greet him.

You kiss his cheek, which surprises him, and he just has a chance to lightly touch his hand on your back before you’re already drawing back and taking your seat, prompting him to take his.

Now he’s very fucking nervous, ‘cause you look even more beautiful than you did last night.

The waiter returns and you order a drink as he continues to look at you.

What the fuck are you gonna talk about? He’s not a great conversationalist, unless he knows what he’s working towards, oh, fuck you’re looking at him again.

Turns out, though, you are a great conversationalist.

Within minutes, he’s relaxing, laughing, even, with you as you tell him about your job, about your life, your hobbies, interests.

And he’s enraptured. He actually cares. He’s interested.

He even tells you about some parts of his life, making sure to keep it light, though, and he can’t believe you’re actually listening properly, seemingly hanging on his every word.

He’s almost annoyed when the meal finishes, even after you both have dessert and a third drink.

He insist on paying, and does, and as you walk out onto the street, you turn to him with a smile.

‘Well, I really enjoyed that.’

‘Me, too.’

And he fucking did. Every moment of it.

‘So… What happens next?’

He looks at your smile widening, our expectant expression, and…

You took a chance on him… and he’s not gonna let you regret it.

‘… You free tomorrow night?’

—

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[el-dibidibidorado1]

Baby's lollipops

Chapter 1

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Warnings: smutty

AN: Sorry for the delay my phone screen broke and i have to use my old phone for a while. Hope you enjoy.

Hey you. What are you doing here?" I asked stocking the last of the double sided lollipops. Very popular here.

"I just came to see how my friend and her new boyfriend are getting along." I laughed at Ophelia and tossed her a box of edible underwear for her to stock. She sometimes comes and helps me to get a little more cash in her pocket.

It had been a couple of months since Steve and I had our ice cream date and I've never been so happy. The only thing that has been giving me problems is the tension between us when we have our heavy makeout sessions. Soon as Steve slips his hand down my back I panic and push him off.

"So what's the problem? Scared that he splits you in half." I gasped and threw her a toy making her squirm away.

"No! That's not the problem!" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"So you like them-"

"Ophelia I swear to god that I'm going to kick you ass" she laughed, I've only done it once and I was drunk as hell. I also remembered everything that happened, he was nice and all, but let's say that he didn't last long. How disappointing that night was.

"So what's the dealio?" She began playing with one of the toys like if it was a lightsaber.

"Stop it. And soon as his hand touches my lower back I freak out." I take the toy away and continued stocking but this time more annoyed.

"Y/n he likes you! Like a lot. Plus poor man, you are giving him blue balls." I guess he does like me a lot. No guy has brought me flowers for a whole week or waited until I got out of work so he could take me to dinner or home.

"Y/n. You got a costumer." The bell kept on ringing making me rush to the counter and attending the couple.

"Enjoy" i said and noticed the familiar head of hair facing away from me. He was looking at some Male underwear that had an elephant face on them.

"Need any help, sir?" He jumped and smiled making my heart skip.

"No, no thank you ma'am." I walked over to his open arms and he engulfed me in warmness.

With tip toes I managed to get a kiss earning another smile from him.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"I was just wondering how men get into these." his confused face looked so adorable and it made me chuckle at his confusion.

"Um, you put the underwear on but the man thingy goes into the trunk of the elephant"

His surprised face made me laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ophelia came out to investigate my laughter.

"Nothin just looking" steve said letting me go. We went back to stocking and attending a couple of customers until it was lunch time.

"Where should we go?" Ophelia asked placing the last box of flavored warming lube on the shelf. The store looked nice and stocked ready for the next employee to fuck up as she just brings in friends to stir a mess up.

"Subway?" I shook my head as we had that the other day.

"How bout that place where Tony likes to go?"

"Shawarma?" Steve said putting on his coat and helping me with mine.

"Yeah, we haven't been there for a while."

"Okay let's go!"

We arrived at the restaurant and enjoyed our food but it only lasted for a while until I had to get back to work.

"Are you going back to the shop?" Ophelia nodded but Steve was interrupted by his phone.

"Not me. I have to head back, Captain America duties." He leaned in and kissed me goodbye and ran off.

"Don't forget dinner at my place!" I yelled.

"How could I forget?!"

"Ooooh you guys gonna get it on?"

"Alright, you better run before I officially kick that fat ass!" I ran after her like when we where little. But now that she had brought that up, she is right, he's waited for a while now. Maybe now it's a good time, with a little liquor or wine maybe it would make it easier. I really want him but I'm just self conscious about, me.

"Earth to y/n" Ophelia waves her hand in front of my face. Panicked I look at the clock and noticed that I had another hour before I have to close.

"What's a matter?" I touch my face and sigh deeply. Obviously nervous about what is going to happen!

"Just tired" that's not a lie I've been working full shifts, the boss is in vacation so she trusts me more than the others.

Thank God that I have a day off tomorrow!

"How about, you.." she points at me "go ahead and I'll close. Its only another hour, I know how to use the cash regester and I'll just give you your key tomorrow, how does that sound?" Without hesitation I hug her and get ready to leave.

"You sure?" I have to make sure. She second guess herself often.

"Three...two.." she began counting making me rush out of the shop.

Going to the nearest store I buy a couple of wine coolers and a pizza on the way home.

I took a bath and got clean for him. Today is the day! Today is the day........and he's late. Its 8:37 and our dinner was at 7:00.

I grabbed my phone and texted him

You forgot

I reheated the cold pizza and drank two of the wine coolers. This is the second time he's late and I understand that he is an avenger but a text would be nice. Ah maybe I'm just being dramatic about it.

I went to sleep leaving my window cracked as he liked seeking in.

"I'm late" looking up at her apartment I noticed the lights out. She's probably asleep now, dammit as soon as I saw the text I bolted out of there. Homework with Tony and Bruce always makes me forget the things that I have to do.

"Fuck" I mumbled. I was about to walk back to the tower when I saw her window cracked. I jumped onto the tree and climbed up.

"Oh my.." looking into the window I found her sleeping in those lace underwear that she sells at the shop and a t-shirt that I use.

I open the window and slowly slide in.

"Doll?" I kinda hope that she's awake.

A breeze made me smell the perfume that I love.

"Doll?" I slipped out of my suit, still in my boxers and got in bed.

"Doll, I'm sorry I'm late" I whispered taking in her scent and figure.

She hummed and turned around wrapping herself against me.

"You forgot" she mumbled half asleep.

"You look gorgeous" she opened her eyes and smiled.

"You too" she brought her lips to mine making me fall into a frenzy mood. I wanted her. I wanted her badly.

I pulled her over my lap still having my lips on hers.

The feeling of the lace of her underwear and her smooth warm skin made my blood rush into my legs.

"Tell me to stop" I groaned digging my fingers into her thighs.

"No, not tonight. I need you" she panted against my neck.

"You sure?" I made her look at me. Her pupils where dilated, heartbeat loud and the smell of her perfume getting mixed with her natural sent.

"Y-yes"

I layed her on her back while I got in between her thick legs. Gently running my index finger across the lace making her shiver.

"Let's take this off" her arms rose as I bunch up the shirt and threw it next to my uniform. Her arms covered herself.

"Come here" I mumbled bringing her closer. I spread her arms and tangled my fingers with hers leaning in to kiss the top of her breast. She looked beautiful. I kept on kissing and showing her my love.

Testing my limits i slowly slid my hand into her panties. Her eyes closed and she swallows thickly. She was wet and warm making me grow harder by the second.

------

I felt him aganst my thigh, he's bigger than i thought.

"Can i?" He asked tugging my panties. Oh god the lust in his eyes made nod. I felt myself clenching at nothing and it made me want him more.

As he pulled them off i clashed my lips with his and i pulled his boxers down with my legs. I felt him begining to rub himself against my core.

"I need you...i need you now" my panting speed up.

"But, i don't want to hurt you" he pulled away making me whine.

"You won't." With the strengh i never knew i had i pushed him off and sat on his thighs, grabbing him and began stroking him. A sweet low moan rolled off his lips.

Embarrassing, but some of the videos that i had to put on taught me something. I continued using that hand twisting technique making him moan.

"Stop-oh god stop" his knuckles cracked when he gripped the covers.

"Im going to cum if you dont stop" he choked and a smile appeared on my face and i stopped my movements. He took deep breaths while he rubbed my thighs, trying to get me to get closer to his cock. I gladly obliged.

A soft moan sliped out of me when his hottness touched my core again. I slowly moved my hips when he sat up straight. He wraps his arms around me making me speed up. The quiet wet sound made blush fill my cheeks.

"Cum, cum so i can be inside you" his talk made my pleasure skyrocket and i felt the tight coil snap.

"Oh god!" I brought him closer using all my grip to ease my pleasure. Once more i found myself on my back with Steve hovering over me.

"Ready" he said. The lust in his eyes grew ans i realized that what he asked wasn't a question.

He touches my core ans began spreading my wetness around his cock. Looking down i felt his tip moving againt my entrance. I felt his eyes on me and i looked up, after a few seconds i felt pressure and a bit of sting hit me. Once he was all in i found myself enjoying the strech and pressure he gave.

"Move" i whimper. He pulled out and shoved himself in making me cry in pleasure. His speed was speeding up each stroke. His grunts and growls made me want him more. I just kept on ttying to keep my moans and whimpers down just to hear his.

"You feel so good and tight around me" he threw his head back and i kept on raking my nails on his back.

"Don't stop" i cried. His movements speed up more it felt unhuman. A new feeling bubled up in my stomach.

"Steve im going to cum" i told him and he replied that he was close too.

"Just. A. Few. More" he groaned throwing his head back as i felt pleasure take over and i clenched him. Second later i felt his cock twitch and warmth filled me up.

"Better than i thought" he kissed my lips and slowly pulled out looking at his mess with a smirk.

"I'll be back" he went to my bathroom and brought a wet cloth and helped me clean up. He layed next to me bringing me close.

"I'm a bit hungry" he said making me chuckle.

"Lucky for you..." i rolled over to tje desk next fo me and opened one of the boxes from work. "I got to bring home a box of these." I pulled out one of the double sided lolipops.

Taking off the wrapper i gave him the apple flavored side while i got the strawberry side and i layed comfortably next to him again.

"This aren't that bad." I nod and we began talking about anything again. I was too comfortable in his arms to notice his knee rubbing against my core again.

"Wanna go again" he bit his side of the candy and taking mine out placing it on the night stand.

"Hell yeah" he kissed my lips getting on top of me again.

This is going to be a long night. I don't mind it.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: The guys meet up for a casual Sunday farmers market trip but when they get back to Bucky’s apartment things heat up fast. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: basic second base smuttiness; swapping hand jobs and some frottage.

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I told ya'll there was gonna a lot of smut in this one and I'm starting to deliver as of this chapter :) So please, enjoy some lovely smuttiness on this fine Wednesday evening lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Three

“I told you so.” Natasha cheered over their plate of danishes the next morning. 

Bucky’s smile was sphinx-like as he nibbled on his pastry, “You did. I’m still not 100% sure he’s not going to just bolt at some point but I think that’s a risk I’m going to have to take.” 

“It sounds like a risk worth taking if one kiss has you smiling like that twelve hours later.”

“Ugh, Nat! And for the record, it was more than just one.” Bucky chuckled as Natasha shoved at him playfully.

Across town Steve was helping Sam tidy up in between classes and trying to avoid the grilling he knew Sam wanted to give. They had recapped the last class and personal training sessions and planned out the room for the next group coming in. They went over all the adjustments needed to the next week’s schedule since they were still covering for Thor who was out on paternity leave for the next four weeks now that his wife Jane had the baby. By the time they were setting the last of the kettle bells on the rack they had run out of gym related topics. Sam gave him another side eyed glance and Steve sighed, knowing what was coming.

“So are you still talking to Bucky?” Sam finally asked.

Steve had been reluctant to tell Sam about anything other than their first meeting. He hadn’t even told Sam why he’d bought the new outfit for earlier that week. It was still so new and he was unsure himself of where things were going, or where he even wanted them to go. He figured if in the end he realized he was bi or gay or whatever, then he could tell his friends. But until he was sure there was no point in announcing anything. “I am.” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“And how’s that going?” Sam seemed genuinely interested but Steve still clammed up.

“Good, he’s a good friend. We’ve been swapping memes all week.” 

“Nice. See, it all worked out and now you have someone else to send those stupid GIFs from The Office to.” 

“Hey, don’t knock one of the best TV shows of all time.” Steve glared pointedly.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Sam moved on, heading over to the desk to check the roster one last time before he started pulling out mats for their next class. A small twinge of guilt bit in Steve’s stomach, knowing he had let Sam make a wrong conclusion and hadn’t corrected him. But really, what was the point if he still wasn’t sure of everything himself? 

xxXxx

Bucky woke early on the Sunday after their date, restless in a way he hadn’t been in a while. He wanted to see Steve again but it had only been a day. Bucky busied himself with too much coffee and a book while he did laundry in his building's basement, trying to distract himself for a while. By 10am all of his standard keep busy chores were done and he was staring at his phone, trying to make Steve text him by sheer force of will. Giving up he started swiping through Instagram, catching up on his friend’s weekend adventures. Pepper had posted a cute picture of a bouquet she bought at the local farmers market and Bucky realized he had found the perfect reason to text Steve. It was innocent enough and casual so if Steve was busy or declined it wasn’t earth shattering. Plan in place, Bucky fired off a quick text.

Bucky Barnes [10:17:44AM]: hey u. im heading 2 the farmers market in sunset park. gonna stop 4 more of that wine. wanna come?

Steeeeve [10:19:23AM]: Hey! That sounds fun. What time?

Bucky Barnes [10:19:52AM]: headed over now if ur free

Steeeeve [10:20:08AM]: Okay. I just need to throw on some shoes and I’ll head out. I can be there in like 15min. 

Bucky Barnes [10:20:33AM]: k see u then

Bucky scrambled to fix his hair and pick a shirt from the pile he’d just brought up. He hadn’t expected Steve to be willing to meet up so quickly and he was still wearing his laundry day sweatpants. He was closer to the market than Steve but he also needed more time to get ready so he ended up getting a “I’m here” text from Steve on his way. 

Steve was waiting by a jewelry stand when Bucky caught up with him. He had been wandering around for a few minutes and the display of beaded bracelets caught his eye. They reminded him of the ones Bucky had worn when they first met and he wondered which ones Bucky would like. 

“Hey!” Bucky greeted him with a small wave as he approached.

“Hey.” Steve echoed happily. He almost reached out for a hug but something held him back and after a second ticked by he realized he should have just done it but the moment had passed. 

“What are you looking at?” Bucky asked, a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten their standard greeting hug and wanting to move on. 

“Oh, these things caught my eye while I was browsing.” 

“They’re nice. I love the way the translucent ones almost glow.” Bucky picked up one of the vivid pink ones, letting the sunlight hit it from different angles. 

“Let me buy it for you.” Steve offered before his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Bucky looked skeptically at him, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to, please?” 

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky said softly, handing the bracelet over. 

Steve blushed at the nickname, ducking his head and walking over to pay the sales girl for the bracelet. Once purchased, he returned it to Bucky who slid it on his wrist next to the two others he was currently wearing.

“Perfect.” Steve praised. 

Bucky was looking appreciatively at his newest addition while Steve was looking appreciatively at Bucky. God, he was gorgeous. Bucky was dressed casually in light washed jeans and a dark grey shirt with no one should live in a closet written in fancy script with a wand below it, all in rainbow colors. Leave it to Bucky. “I like your shirt. Harry Potter reference, right?” Steve guessed.

“Yep. I found it at Pride last year and I’m completely in love with it.” 

“It’s very you.” 

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Bucky preened for a moment. 

Steve chuckled, “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. Altitude Coffee has a little pop up shop back that way.” 

Steve and Bucky trailed their way through the bustling farmers market, picking up things here and there. Some they actually needed for groceries, but others were just fun impulse buys. They each had overly full canvas totes by the time they were done, and hauled their finds along with them to the wine shop. They each bought a full box from the shop, having stocked up on a half case of their favorites, which only further slowed Bucky down. While Steve had the muscles and endurance to haul a giant tote and six bottles of wine around the city, Bucky did not. 

“Uh, Steve.” Bucky panted out, finally giving up. 

Steve looked over and realized Bucky had fallen a few steps behind while he was talking about a winery he had visited while in Canada a few years ago. 

“I think I need to tap out.” Bucky admitted while shifting his bag as much as he could to get comfortable. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Steve shifted his tote higher on his shoulder, wondering if he could sling Bucky’s on next to his. “Here, let me take your bag.” he extended a hand towards Bucky’s bag.

Bucky was conflicted, he wanted to try and at least get his stuff home but Steve probably could carry both without breaking a sweat. Damned muscled god of a man. “How about this? Since I’m the one wimping out, let me call us an Uber. I can probably get us one less than five minutes.” 

Steve frowned at the idea of an expensive ride all the back to Park Slope. “You don’t have to do that. I can carry our stuff.” 

“If I call us an Uber we could go back to my place and try that baguette and jam I bought.”

“Ooh, that’s a good bribe. I have that cheese I got too.” Steve looked at Bucky for a long moment. An afternoon of good food and even better company was too tempting to pass up. “You sure you don’t mind me coming over?” 

“Not at all. It’s a tiny little crap shack of a place, but it’s my tiny little crap shack.” 

Bucky was already pulling up the app and ordering them a car when Steve finally said, “Okay, let’s go.” 

The Uber ride back to Bucky’s place was barely more than ten minutes and they sat cramped in the back of a Prius with their wine boxes in the trunk and their totes in their laps. Bucky was trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness and shot Steve amused glances every so often, making the blonde have to tamp down his own laughter. By the time they got to Bucky’s apartment Steve practically leapt out of the tiny blue car, grateful to stretch back to his full height again. He insisted on carrying both of their totes and his box of wine bottles up to Bucky’s apartment, leaving Bucky his own wine to carry. Thankfully the building had an elevator and Steve seemed barely phased under the weight of all their stuff. Bucky tried to ignore the filthy thoughts racing through his head of what else Steve was strong enough to do. Like pick him up and fuck him against a wall. Or something. God, Bucky hoped Steve figured things out soon because he was barely through their second date and wanted to climb the man like a tree. 

“Home sweet home.” Bucky announced as he swung the door open to his apartment. He flicked on the recessed lighting in the living room and showed Steve to the kitchen where he could put their bags down. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment with a decent sized living room and dine-in kitchen. 

“It’s nice.” Steve said looking around as he placed their bags on the faux granite countertop. 

“It’s tiny but it works.” Bucky shrugged. 

Steve noticed the would be dining room area of the kitchen was set up with a desk and three wide computer monitors instead of a table. “That’s quite a set up over there.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky looked embarrassed for a moment, “It’s a little ridiculous, but when you work from home it’s kinda nice to have a sweet setup. When I signed on to work for Stark Securities they gave me a signing bonus so I splurged and bought better equipment and that fancy office chair. It was completely worth it too.” 

“Good for you, you deserve it.” 

Bucky blushed lightly at the sincerity of Steve’s tone. He nervously spun the bracelet Steve had bought him around his wrist a few times, hoping he wasn’t setting himself for heartache. “So, lunch?” Bucky offered, the momentary tension dissipating. 

“Absolutely. Let’s break out that bread you got.” Steve started rifling through his bag for the soft cheese and candied pecans he’d bought while Bucky pulled out the heavy loaf of artisan bread, the little pot of homemade plum jam, and a bottle of Chloe Prosecco he’d bought at the wine shop. The bottle had been adorable with its fancy little bow and the sales girl had said it was a popular choice.

They laid out their feast on a large cutting board, teasing each other about how posh the whole thing was. It was a simple but seemingly elegant lunch spread and Bucky liked that their official second date had a bit of a classy feel to it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a table or anything for us to eat at.” Bucky waved his hand at his little office space. “I normally just eat on the sofa like a heathen.” 

“Honestly so do I.” Steve admitted with a chuckle.

“We can be heathens together then.” Bucky picked up their wine glasses while Steve carried the large tray out to the coffee table where they set up their feast. Flicking through his streaming channels he settled on Disney, knowing everyone loved those movies. “Have you seen the new Beauty and the Beast?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I heard it was good though.” 

“Good?” Bucky feigned offense, “Stephen Gilligan Rogers.” 

“Not my middle name.” Steve chuckled but Bucky was undeterred.

“BATB is not good. It is iconic. The elaborate costumes, the backdrops, the music, oh my god Steve, the music. We’re watching it. End of subject.” Bucky started up the movie, not even slightly apologetic for his dramatics. One had not lived until they saw Emma Watson as Belle. 

Two hours later Bucky was curled up against Steve, watching with misty eyes as the palace furniture turned back into real people as the curse lifted. Steve was completely engrossed in the movie, barely registering that he had been stroking Bucky’s hair for the better part of an hour. 

“Now do you see?” Bucky demanded as the credits rolled a few minutes later. 

“You were right. That was amazing.” Steve conceded. 

“It was always my favorite Disney movie as a kid but seeing it redone in such a perfect way really gets to me. I’ve threatened to dress up as Belle for the past three Halloweens now.” 

Steve grinned at the idea, “I think you’d make a beautiful Belle.” 

And just like that the air shifted. Bucky was suddenly very aware of how close they were curled up together and the way Steve was looking at him like he’d hung the moon. He didn’t want to rush Steve, he was willing to wait as Steve figured himself out, but if he kept looking at Bucky like that, his timeline needed to hurry up. “You’d make a very handsome beast.” he finally said, going for levity but falling short. 

Steve blushed so prettily, his eyes locked on Bucky’s lips, the bottom of which he was chewing on again. Steve knew now it was a nervous tell and it gave him a little thrill knowing he wasn’t the only nervous one. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.” he admitted quietly. 

“You don’t have to ask, honey.” Bucky purred, leaning in to press a tender kiss against Steve’s lips.

Steve’s body was shaking with nervous energy as Bucky shifted up onto his knees so he could kiss Steve easier. Bucky tasted like wine and plums and something very uniquely him. It made Steve’s head spin as he chased Bucky’s tongue with his own. The fears and worries over what he was doing died away in that moment, his whole being consumed by his desire for the sweet man who was practically in his lap. Steve still wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew he wanted more. 

Bucky was so thankful for a repeat of the night on Steve’s couch. Kissing Steve was electric and Bucky couldn’t get enough. The hard planes of his body pressed firmly up against the softer ones of Bucky’s, which only made Bucky more desperate for the close contact. Despite having a thicker build, Bucky felt small next to Steve and he loved it. Feeling brave, and praying desperately that Steve wouldn’t bolt, he swung a leg over Steve’s lap and sat himself atop Steve’s thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked once he was settled. 

“Yeah.” Steve shuddered, “Yeah, it’s fine.” Steve let his hands come to rest on Bucky’s thick thighs on either side of his smaller ones. While Steve’s thighs were hard with well earned muscle, Bucky’s had natural musculature and a softness to them that had Steve wanting to sink his fingers into their plush expanse. Bucky had gone back to kissing him while his mind wandered and Steve decided to give Bucky’s thighs an exploratory squeeze. For science really, just to see if he would feel anything. The kissing so far had been fantastic but Steve worried they’d eventually hit a point where everything went to hell and he realized he was most definitely straight. And then he’d lose Bucky forever. 

Bucky made a light huffing sound when Steve sunk his fingers into the soft meat of his thighs. He was thankful Steve was getting a little braver and decided to run his hands up and down the length of Steve’s ridiculously muscled chest and stomach in a tentative exploration of his own. 

A choked noise made its way out of Steve’s throat as Bucky touched him with feather light hands. He wanted to rip his shirt off and give him all the access he wanted. But he was taking things slow, Steve reminded himself. Unfortunately, not all parts of Steve got that memo. 

Bucky had shifted a bit trying to sprinkle kisses along the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw when he accidentally brushed against an unexpected guest. “Oh, shit, sorry.” he blurted out, moving back an inch so he wasn’t pressed against the, frankly enormous, erection in Steve’s pants. 

Steve blushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.” 

Bucky glanced down at the tenting of Steve’s pants. Damn, he wanted to get his hands on Steve like yesterday. “I could, uh,” he cleared his throat roughly, “help you. With that.” Steve looked at him with wide bright blue eyes, so open and unsure, that Bucky started backpedaling all in a rush, “Or not, we can stop. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” 

Steve just grinned and leaned in to kiss Bucky again, his motions almost questioning. “I think I’d be okay going a little further this time.” he said quietly against Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky squeaked involuntarily at Steve’s words. He was now dealing with his own growing problem at the idea of getting to fool around a little with Steve. “If you’re sure. We can stop at any time.” he promised. It would probably kill him, but if Steve said stop at any point he would be off him in a second. 

“I trust you, Buck.” Steve told him, brushing a strand of hair back behind Bucky’s ear. 

Bucky wanted to melt at the trust Steve had in him. He was too good to be true and Bucky just had to hope it would all work out. Gay or straight or somewhere in between, Steve Rogers was an absolute dream partner. Bucky shifted himself forward a little so the hard length in his pants could rub against the one in Steve’s while they kissed a little more. Bucky let his hips rock a little as they moved, giving them both a little bit of tortuous friction. 

Steve was panting like he’d run a marathon, and he knew this from personal experience when he and Sam had run the New York City Marathon a few years back as publicity for their gym. He’d never thought making out on a sofa would have quite the same effect but life had been full of surprises for him lately. The friction against his dick felt amazing and there was a naughty little zing of arousal knowing it was from Bucky’s erection rubbing against his. He would never have expected to enjoy that so much but there he was, fighting for self control like a horny teenager. He wanted to get Bucky off too and not just selfishly sit back and let Bucky take care of him. Steve was well acquainted with getting himself off and really how different could it be doing it to someone else? He was feeling bold and brash, knowing a hand was just a hand and really he had to start somewhere. “I think I’m ready for more.” he spoke up in between heated kisses. 

Bucky paused, jaw hanging open in shock. “Like, more more?” 

Steve nodded rapidly. “Like second base more?” He held his breath, waiting for Bucky to process what he’d just asked for. 

“God,” Bucky heaved out a breath, “You’re gonna be the death of me. Yes, second base, yes. Get those pants off, Rogers.” He stripped his own shirt off eagerly while Steve just sat there, amused.

“I kinda have this gorgeous guy on my lap at the moment.” he teased.

“Sorry!” Bucky yelped, hopping up so Steve could pull his pants down and off, quickly followed by his tee shirt. He sat in just his boxer briefs on Bucky’s sofa, looking like every Calvin Klien ad fantasy Bucky’d ever had come to life. “Jesus.” he whispered harshly. Bucky couldn’t get his own pants off fast enough, leaving him in his own silky boxers to resume his perch on Steve’s lap. 

Unconfined by pants Bucky got a better feel of Steve’s cock and he was thanking every saint he could think of for what was about to happen. He shifted himself closer to Steve, his thighs spreading wider, and he reached down to give Steve’s cock a tentative squeeze over top the soft cotton of his underwear. 

“Ohh.” Steve gasped out, his body trembling once again. His eyes were glued on Bucky, not wanting to miss a moment. He was so handsome sitting on Steve’s lap. His long hair shining in the afternoon sun that flooded in the glass balcony doors, his lightly tanned skin decorated with a series of finely detailed tattoos. While his muscles weren’t hard and cut like Steve’s, Steve loved the slight softness of the other man’s body, giving him something to sink his fingers into along his sides. It felt nice, and right, and Steve realized in that moment he was more invested in what was about to happen than he had been for most the sexual encounters he’d had with Peggy. It was startling but Steve pushed it down to deal with another day. In the moment, all that mattered was Bucky. 

“Can I?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs. 

“Yeah. Can I?” Steve echoed, tugging at the silky material at Bucky’s hip. 

“If you’re sure.” Bucky prayed silently that having an actual cock in his hand wouldn’t send Steve running for the hills. 

But it didn’t. Steve pulled his underwear off when Bucky hopped up to do the same and he was all nervous excitement when Bucky resumed his perch. He hadn’t thought of what to expect but Steve was blatantly staring at the thick length of Bucky’s dick. It was shorter than his own, but Steve had already known he was considered a bit above average, and it was girthy in a way that made Steve wonder if he topped or bottomed. Because, Steve thought with amusement, these were things he had to consider now. But not right away. They would take things slow and he would see if this was even something he wanted to try. Steve reached out a hand to test the weight of Bucky’s dick in his palm. He slid his hand up and down for two quick strokes, testing how doing that made him feel and was pleasantly surprised that it was a pretty familiar act. The way Bucky hissed out a sharp breath and craned his neck back, eyes shut tight, made Steve’s own dick jump for attention. Oh, this was kind of fun. Steve moved his hand for another few stokes, enjoying the way Bucky’s body reacted so blatantly to the pleasure. It was easy to get him worked up like that and Steve was genuinely enjoying himself watching Bucky become a desperate, needy thing in his lap, thrusting a little into Steve’s fist. 

“God. Fuck. Stevie, slow down.” Bucky pleaded. “I wanna take care of you too, honey. Can I? Please?” 

“Okay.” Steve acquiesced, bracing himself for the pressure of Bucky’s hand around his dick. 

Bucky eagerly wrapped his fist around the hard length of Steve’s cock, sliding it up and down the impressive length until Steve gasped. He leaned forward to kiss Steve from his jaw down his neck to his collarbones while he groped him fervently between their two overheated bodies. For as simple as it was, it was absolutely exquisite. “How you doing, Stevie?” Bucky prompted, wanting to check in to ensure Steve was still on board. He rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, waiting patiently for him to respond.

“So good.” Steve managed to moan out. “This is amazing.” 

“Wanna try something even more amazing?” Bucky grinned devilishly. “Just hand stuff, promise.” he added for reassurance.

“What can be better than this?” Steve questioned but motioned for Bucky to go ahead with whatever he had in mind.  

Carefully, Bucky shifted forward one last time, pressing as close to Steve as humanly possible making his over stretched thighs burn in the process. He slipped his hand from Steve’s cock and lined it up with his own, wrapping his fist around them both the best he could. He gave them a quick stroke, reveling in the sensation and waiting to see if Steve would enjoy it too. 

Steve’s whimper was a good sign. “Please.” he begged, “Please, please do that.” 

Bucky picked up the motion again, rhythmically pumping them in his fist. Steve was making little broken ahh sounds, unable to keep up with the pleasure thrumming through his body, and it spurred Bucky on to bring them both racing towards their release. 

Steve could feel the pressure building, his body was on fire and he could barely bite out a warning to Bucky as he felt his orgasm ripping through him. A half formed “I’m g-” was all the warning Bucky got before Steve was spilling all over his hand and cock. Watching Steve come undone, the pure bliss on his face, had Bucky following him over the edge of his own climax seconds later. His body shook hard as he spilled over his hand and across the rippled muscles of Steve’s abs. 

Steve’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining, and Bucky mused he probably looked about the same. Steve was so stunning sitting there with a wide, lazy blissed out smile on his face. Bucky giggled a little realizing how incredibly lucky he was. Steve really was just perfection. 

“What?” Steve asked, joining in Bucky’s infectious laughter. 

“You’re perfect.” Bucky admitted, speaking what was on his mind. 

“And you’re beautiful.” Steve leaned up to push Bucky’s hair back where it had fallen forward in his face. He pressed two chaste kisses against his lips before pulling back, feeling a little extra affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze. 

Bucky made a muffled mmph sound, leaning into Steve, just wanting to be close for a moment. “We made quite a mess.” he said finally, the squidgy feeling of their come between their stomachs not exactly a pleasant one. 

“We should clean up.” Steve agreed. 

“Come on, I have some wet wipes in my room.” Bucky lifted himself up off of Steve’s lap, suddenly cold without their skin to skin contact.

Steve noticed his shiver and as soon as he was standing, he pulled Bucky close against him in a warm embrace. 

Bucky basked in the warmth, his brain effectively turning to mush again at how sweet Steve was. “You spoil me.” he whispered against Steve’s firm pecs.

Steve dropped a kiss on top of Bucky’s head, “You deserve to be spoiled.” 

It took every bit of willpower in Bucky to pull back and lead Steve down the hall to clean up. He could have stayed wrapped in Steve’s arms forever, sticky cooling mess on his stomach be damned. They exchanged quick, adorably awkward glances at each other as they cleaned up. Both wanting to get a more detailed look now the heat of the moment had passed. Steve tossed his wipes in the wastebasket by Bucky’s dresser and then pulled Bucky close by his hips, “You really are so beautiful, Buck.” he told him softly.

Bucky had been careful to wall up his heart when he decided to give Steve a chance. He didn’t want to risk another heartbreak less than a year after what he’d been through with Brock. But Steve’s sweet words and affectionate touches had the walls crumbling a little despite Bucky’s best defenses. “Careful.” he teased with a pang of truth to his words, “You’re gonna ruin me for all other men, you keep this up.” 

Steve chuckled and kissed the top of Bucky’s head yet again. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. Raw, honest things that ached in his chest. But Steve kept them inside, not willing to let down his guard so completely just yet. He still didn’t really know what he was doing but damned if he wasn’t loving every second of it so far. 

“Come on you, let’s get dressed.” Bucky said finally, tugging Steve’s hand into his and leading him back down the hall.

Steve left shortly after they’d redressed and cleaned up the mess from their lunch. It was a long, drawn out goodbye in the doorway, neither one of them really wanting to part despite knowing they both had to get on with their usual Sunday routines. Steve promised to text Bucky once he’d made it home, insisting he would have no trouble carrying his tote and box on the subway. And then he was off down the hall, looking back just once before he got on the elevator and wishing he could have stayed. Bucky walked over to his glass balcony door, watching the street below as Steve crossed it heading toward the nearest subway station. He was trying not to get too attached but after the day they’d spent together, Bucky knew it was a losing battle.

[jj-ktae]

Erotica - Epilogue - (M)

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader Genre: SMUT Summary: You’re a rookie porn actress on the rise and everything goes well until you get offered a role in a big-budget porn movie, starring the most famous actor in the porn industry. Words: 2515 Warning: Read at your own risk Erotica was banned from the Tumblr search engine so it appears nowhere no matter which tags I use and you can only find it in my masterlist or in your dashboard. Might as well link the previous chapters and my masterlist here lol 

MASTERLIST 

- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Epilogue -

Epilogue

Im Jaebum is funny.

You wouldn’t be able to explain the past two years without wailing. He has one or two flaws, most of them involving his laziness but nothing out of the ordinary.

It’s like he was made for you.

Today is the last day of his career. Jaebum has an interview for one of these magazines you always refused to appear in and he will be done with porn forever. It’s a day to celebrate, not only because you’re both out of the porn industry, but also because it’s the beginning of a new life.
 Erotica made you earn a lot of money and allowed Jaebum to invest into an old building to transform it into an apartment complex.

So naturally, he left this job after months of struggling with the idea of dating someone who regularly has sex with other people. It was hard for Jaebum, but he had no other choice.

It’s the first serious talk you both had, right after your first official night as a couple. You ended up accepting the fact that he had to keep working until the end of his contract, just like he had to accept the fact that you too, had other things planned before quitting.

You found yourself stopping before he did and started looking for another job, while he filmed his last movies as JB the porn star.

Tonight is a celebration yet Jaebum insisted on staying home and enjoy a peaceful night together. He brought food and wine, along with a pretty necklace that he insisted you should wear every minute of your life.

Your stomach is still full as you’re lying flat on your bed. It’s a hot summer day and not even the cool breeze is enough to electrify your moist body. You’re somehow lost in your thoughts, from the stress coming along with your new job to the relationship you’ve spent month building with Jaebum.

Said Jaebum aims for your attention when he sees you all spaced out, visibly full of food and ready to doze off.

He refuses to blame your hazy state on the slow sex you both just had.

“What are you thinking about?” He takes in the sight of your naked body, hand pressing against your burning skin as he leans a little bit to rest his head over your body. He finds shelter near your hipbone where he nibs at the skin before blowing cool air over it. “You look so serious.”

Jaebum isn’t used to you being so unaware of your surroundings. You’re so cautious of everything you do to forget about everything else but now you seem unfocused, not even bothered by the fact that he is drawing tiny patterns on your thigh.

“My tummy’s about to burst.”

He chuckles, biting at the tiny bulge under your navel. “You ate so well…” he mocks, kissing the spot when you start wriggling, falsely annoyed.
 “Seriously though, I was thinking about you.” You add, barely lifting your head to meet his questioning gaze. He rests atop of your hip bone, body leaning sideways and arm around your naked waist.

Jaebum even looks pleased, his teasing smile replaced with an expectant gaze. “And what about me?”

You sigh, moving your free leg so it would reach a cooler part of the bedding. “I was thinking about how crazy it is that we ended up dating when we were both porn actors.” You shift a little when Jaebum nods, his chin tickling your skin.

He muses, eyes reaching for the roof as a sign of his reflection. “I think it makes sense. I don’t think anyone can accept that job, let alone introduce a porn actor to their parents.”

“Your parents know.” You scoff. Even his family is chill.

He shrugs, mouth going to your stomach to kiss it. “My parents are supportive, that’s all.” He waits a moment, before lifting his head again. “Not that your mother isn’t, of course.”

You chuckle, nodding. “My mother would have a heart attack. At least I’m really working as a waitress, now.”

Jaebum coughs, moving on the mattress so he can finally reach your level before grabbing your leg to circle it around his naked waist. “Speaking of which, are you sure you want to work as a waitress?”

He has that tone you only hear when something upsets him. Jaebum barely gets mad and even if he does, it starts slowly, like a warning before the actual storm.

But as he nudges you to press his face against your neck, he sighs. “I’m worried about people recognising you and annoying you.”

“Babe I was a porn actress, not Angelina Jolie.” You try to mock him but he doesn’t buy your shit and tightens his hold instead.

“It’s worse. They might think you’re easy or some shit like that.” His hand goes to your side to tickle you and you giggle, leg kicking his butt. “I’ll have to come and check on you every night.” He sounds so dramatic, but his smile can’t be missed. “I’ll be careful.”

“You could be my secretary instead. That way, we can live a real-life porn. ‘Hot secretary fucks angry boss in his office’.” Jaebum laughs when you make a funny face, yet goes back on serious mode, arm tightening your leg around him and it’s starting to be too pleasing to focus on whatever he is saying.

You sigh when he rolls his hips, his flesh rubbing against you. “Seriously though, I’m not fond of this idea…” he trails off, voice laced with a craving you could never get enough of.

You can’t help but whimper, lips parting as you shift toward his chest and breast finding shelter against his broad body. “I never pegged you as the possessive type,” you reach for his neck, bringing him closer until his breath fans your face, hurried. “You didn’t seem to care until I ended my contract with my agency.”

Jaebum hums, the probability of a serious conversation out the window if his growing erection is anything to go by. He rolls his eyes, “Porn is porn, nightlife is different.” His position changes just enough for him to lean and still a short kiss. “Now that we’re both out of this, I don’t plan on sharing you, rookie.”

You tap his shoulder lightly, the sound of your hand slapping his skin stronger than the actual damage it caused. “Stop calling me rookie!”

Your boyfriend choses to stay silent, leaving you expectant as he pushes you onto your back. “Anyways, don’t get mad at me for being petty about you being molested in a bar in the middle of the night.” Before you can protest he plunges, aiming for your collarbone which he attacks vividly. His teeth graze upon the hidden bone, drawing shivers and goose bumps all over your body. He snickers in the middle of silence. “I’ll have to beat up the pervs.”

You wriggle against the sheets, laughter mixed with pleasure as he darts his tongue to trail a path down your chest. “So virile…” you sigh, earning a hidden shrug from a busy Jaebum.

“Yeah?” He smooches your warm skin, liking how unforgiving he sounds.

It’s cute in a way. Jaebum never had to show anything but acceptance toward your job, considering he was still a porn actor himself. Maybe he had it harder than you thought. You understand him though; it’s not cool to greet your boyfriend when he was banging another girl the same day.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you, rookie…” He whispers and slides on the bed, head back on your stomach and creating messy patterns over your skin. You almost break right there, the confession unusual but not unpleasant.

Jaebum never imagined he could have such stamina. His sexual life was close to non-existent before he met you and his physical interactions were limited to the scenes he filmed in the studio. It had ruined his personal life with such ease, turning sex into a duty rather than a necessity and killing his hormones with a slow and numb burn. When he started filming with you and felt the tingling sensation again, he understood right away.

He couldn’t thank you enough for sticking around and waking him up from his creepy slumber made of daddy kinks and choking in front of cameras. Thanks to you he built up the courage to start his project and stop his career, turning him into more than a guy who has sex for money. He is such a bad actor anyways.

DVDs and CDs are neat into your shared apartment, like a silent memory of something none of you regret doing. Yet it doesn’t mean he will ever miss it.

You forget about whatever names he called you when he reaches your pubis, mouth watering and dropping tiny patches of saliva over the heated flesh.

You almost knock your head against the wall when the first lick falls. It’s insistent and slow, devastating in the sea of your needs as Jaebum knows exactly what pace to use to make you crazy.

It’s something you discovered with time. Jaebum is into slow and deep thrusts, soft doggie style, lazy morning sex and it’s a mixture of finesse and bestiality, along with loving words. He is comfortable for he isn’t disturbed by nudity, can say whatever he wants without sounding creepy and barely has any requirements when it comes to sex.

He welcomes all your faults and imperfections the same way you do and none of you bother with petty fights, the words too heavy to question a future you both want. Jaebum has that honesty which leaves little room for misunderstanding. He confessed the same night he brought you to his flat yet didn’t force anything on you.

And you love him just that way.

You gasp when he grabs your ankles and bends your legs, nestling them on either side of your body to reveal more of you. He barely goes wild and you suspect he is trying to prove a point but your brain shuts down when his tongue probes at your opening, teasing just enough to collect wetness and smear it over your folds. You glance down to peek at the beautiful scene but Jaebum is already looking at you, pleased by your bewildered face and flustered cheeks.

He dips down a second time, eyes darkening and tongue out to lap every engorged part of your pussy. He stops just long enough to show you how he licks his lips and goes down again, head shaking from right to left and making you roll your pelvis against his restless mouth.

You still gather yourself to make fun of him. “Are we…filming…again…?” It’s hard to speak between moans yet your voice is loud and clear, breathless. Jaebum doesn’t like your teasing and attacks you even harder, the hint of a smirk hardly hidden behind his brown locks. He even hums teasingly, the vibration of his deep sounds shaking your flesh.
 He doesn’t slow down even when your orgasm hits. You jerk away from his mouth, moaning and grunting but he keeps you in place until you can only shake. It burns your body from every pore, mixing with your blood like a shot of strong alcohol and making your vision blind with pleasure. You complain and beg for him to stop and he only releases you when you freeze from the overstimulation, unable to function anymore.

You shake your head, a false accusation painting your exhausted features as you glance at a smiling Jaebum whose hand is wiping the remains of your climax from his smiling and reddish lips
 Your legs fall, lifeless on the bed but you can’t let him suffer. His penis is hard and threatening, the bulbous head a deep shade of red and length swollen by the numerous veins.

He pumps himself slowly, tilting his head to the side. He raises one eyebrow. “You okay?” he rasps.

You nod, deciding to play along with his celebration sex and rolling on your stomach. You raise your butt just enough for him to grab it and rub himself between your asscheeks, grunting.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, free hand running along your curves and stopping by your drenched pussy to play with your clit. “So damn beautiful…”

He penetrates you slowly, his willpower winning the inner battle of his arousal against his brain. You breathe out, searching for air and dipping your head into the pillow.

“Come here.”

Jaebum commands, already reaching for your body so you can lean against him. He sticks your bodies and starts moving his hips, penis sliding deep inside you.

He finds a good pace right away, from the tip of his dick poking out to the base hitting your asscheeks, Jaebum knows how to burry himself inside you. It feels amazing, the pressure from the position and your needy moans lulling him toward an orgasm he can call his own private pleasure.

He is infatuated the way you mould with him. He loves pinching the tender skin of your nipple as his hand cups your perfect breast, he enjoys the way your head finds its home into the crook of his neck and he can’t stop himself from tilting your head steal numerous kisses.

You open your mouth eagerly, tongue out to play against his own in a carnivorous embrace. He bites and sucks on your lips, his sighs spilling from his parted lips whenever the tip of his cock hits a specific spot inside you.

You arch until your back hurts, looking for more stimulation and nearing your second orgasm. Jaebum is struggling, you can feel it from the way his abs tense behind you. He is all stiff, all ready to fill you up yet not giving in.

You know his body language by heart.

You collapse against him when a second wave of pleasure hits you. It breaks your bones and destroys your muscles, leaving your lifeless against a panting Jaebum who can only suffer from the contractions around him. The waves of pleasure hit you as much as they hit him, sending you both into another universe.

He allows himself to cum right when you’re done and he is satisfied with the pleasure he gave you. You’re nothing but a dead weight against his chest, eyes closed and smile smug as you giggle to yourself because your brain is messed up and you can’t think straight.

You still wonder how can someone be so skilled at sex.

Jaebum lets you rest on the bed, not the least bothered by the mess he creates when he pulls out of you.

Instead he wraps you around him again, hugging you close and kissing your nose.

“This is what I call a celebration, rookie. Who needs Erotica when I have you all to myself?” He muses, fingers rubbing against your cheekbones while he pecks you once more.

You giggle, head shaking at this boy’s antics. He can be such a dork.

“The pleasure is mutual.”

AN : Erotica is officially over! Thank you all so much for following this series (I see you, naughty readers). I’m sad that it’s over and I’m going to miss Porn actor Jaebum but Priest Jinyoung is waiting for me so I’m off to new adventures ! Thank you for the support and love you sent me through this series, I love yall!

[boundinshallows]

Tommy/Alfie Inktober Day 21

Summary: Inktober Day 21 - Treasure

Notes: This ficlet occurs in the same Inception AU 'verse as Day 15 - Legend, taking place years before when Tommy and Alfie are just starting to work together a bit.

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

“—we’re in the middle of the bleedin’ ocean, right? Water ‘s so clear and blue it’d put those fuckin’ eyes of yours to shame, Tom, if you can fuckin’ imagine that—”

Tommy can. In fact, Tommy thinks he can feel it more than see it. Not that that makes a bit of sense. But he’s had a lovely white wine—1811 Chateau d’Yguem if Alfie’s to be believed—and wine has always gone to his head faster than most alcohol.

He realizes a little too late that he’s lost the thread of whatever story Alfie’s weaving him. Usually, he’s a bit annoyed by these grand performances—because Alfie, for all that he may be brilliant, can’t ever manage to get to the fuckin’ point—but Tommy finds himself patient tonight.

His limbs feel a little heavy, his chest a little warm. The arcs and flourishes of Alfie’s hands, busy drawing something elaborate in the air for him no doubt, draw his eye. That is until Tommy catches sight of dark ink peeking out from where Alfie’s shirt sleeves are bunched up around his elbows. After that, Tommy is far too preoccupied by the desire to find out what the rest of the tattoo looks like—how that skin might taste beneath his tongue—to care about the motion of Alfie’s hands.

Shit.

“—and it’s there, we can see it. Right where the kid’s little treasure map says it’ll be. But before we can get to shore—and don’t ask me how, mate, I haven’t the foggiest bloody idea what tipped ‘im off, but something did, didn’t it?—because right there a fuckin’ kraken rises out of the water. And it don’t make any sense, does it, because the water isn’t that deep. But there you have it. Kraken, out of bleedin’ nowhere—”

“Kraken?” Tommy asks, his skepticism somehow penetrating his otherwise blissful mental state. “You’re sure it wasn’t a giant squid?”

Alfie freezes and gives him a look.

“Am I sure it wasn’t a giant squid he asks?” he mutters to himself before turning his attention back to Tommy. “Were you there, mate? Because if so, please do stop me. I wouldn’t want to bore you. But, and here’s the thing, if you weren’t there, right? If you weren’t on the job, then maybe you ought to shut the fuck up and let me finish the story without any interruptions.”

Tommy’s lips twitch upwards as he lifts his hands in surrender.

“And for the fuckin’ record, yeah, I know the difference between a kraken and a giant squid, don’t I?”

Tommy’s smiling a bit then. Mostly because of Alfie’s steely expression, as if questioning whether he knows his cephalopods—mythic or otherwise—is a grave affront to his person. And Tommy can’t quite swallow his laughter before it slips out. He tries to at least cover it up by taking a drag from his cigarette, but Alfie’s too fuckin’ perceptive to miss it and too big of an arsehole to let it go.

“Alright, yeah. Well.” Alfie leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his stomach. “That is all you’re getting of the story, innit? Now you’ll never know why, exactly, I got out of extraction and the field more fuckin’ generally.”

Tommy rubs the cigarette on his lower lip thoughtfully.

“And here I thought it was because you wanted to put your doctorates in chemical engineering and molecular biology to good use.”

“And you’d be wrong, wouldn’t ya.”

“Apparently so.”  

Tommy leans forward, taking the neck of the Chateau d’Yguem in hand to pour himself another glass. It’s good. A little sweet, but working its magic nonetheless. He’s about to top off Alfie’s glass as well when he notices the restaurant’s music shift to something completely ill-suited for the venue. The other patrons turn to stare at him and Alfie. Behind them, glass shatters. Tommy’s reaching for his gun when he realizes that this whole thing has been a—

***

Tommy’s eyes flutter open. It takes him a moment to remember that he’s in one of the storage rooms at Alfie’s Camden bakery. In the chair beside him, Alfie’s already removing the cannula from his arm and binning the needle.

After a few seconds, Tommy is surprised to find his head isn’t pounding like he expects. Dreams like that—the ones where he feels heavy in body and light in mood—tend to give him headaches. While he’s worked with Alfie a few times before, he’d only requested the standard Somnacin mix for those jobs. There is a lot to appreciate about Alfie’s special blends it would seem.

“That’ll do ya?” Alfie asks, winding up his line.

“It should. I didn’t catch on until the end even though there were a few things that were off. It won’t negate the risk of militarization, but it should buy us enough time to get the account numbers.”

“There’s nothing to be done for the synesthesia. Been trying to iron out that wrinkle for fuckin’ weeks, haven’t I.”

“I’ll talk to my point and architect. The alcohol is a good enough cover for it, so we’ll have to incorporate that somehow into the narrative,” Tommy says, then pauses. “The Chateau was a red flag.”

Alfie smirks and shrugs one shoulder, leaning against the desk. “And yet.”

He hums. “And yet.”

Tommy takes a few moments to right himself, fixing his sleeve and putting on his jacket. In exchange for the Somnacin, Tommy hands Alfie an envelope fat with money. They trade pleasant enough goodbyes before Alfie grabs Tommy’s wrist.

“The Chateau.”

“What about it, eh?”

“Might be I have some. If you’d like to know what a hundred grand bottle of wine tastes like.”

Tommy’s surprised, but he doesn’t know why. Alfie is involved in more criminal activities than Tommy’s ever been in, and he’s certain that many of them make dreamshare look legal by comparison.

Maybe he does want to know what it tastes like in reality. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the wine at all. He’s not so emotionally stunted that he needs to lie to himself about this. Since he first met Alfie, Alfie’s always done something to him. For him. He’s never considered pursuing it before, but he does have a brief lull between jobs next month and his dance card is wide open.

******

FYI: the wine is a real wine that costs $117,000 per bottle. Tommy probably doesn’t even like it when he does try it in reality, but god knows that hoe will never admit it. It will be Tommy’s favorite wine because it’s so damn expensive and nothing can convince me otherwise, okay? Our blue-eyed boy is nothing if not Extra.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 3

Ask: OH MY GOD IMAGINE THE READER IS A GIRL FROM A GOOD FAMILY, SHES WITH ARTHUR FOR A WHILE NOW, THE PARENTS WANT TO MEET HIM. THEY’RE HAVING FAMILY DINNER AND THE COWBOY MAN JUST CANT KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF UNDER THE TABLE oh my god if your request are open and you would write that i would probably, most likely die...oh btw i love the “farmer’s daughter” story OH MY GOD MAYBE THIS COULD BE THE NEXT PART AAAAAAAAH SHIT! okay okay i’m sorry i just got excited! love your writing, have a great day!

Warnings: Cursing, probably. Slightly public sex, ya get fingered at dinner ok? 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: YEEHAW MY FELLOW SLUTS! ENJOY! Also, idk what they called panties back then so I just went with panties, ok? 

Two months later and you had fallen completely in love with the man. You both had told yourselves you wouldn’t let it get that far but it was nearly impossible. Every time you would see each other he had something to give you, be it a new drawing of yourself, wildflowers he had found out in the woods, or some suspiciously expensive jewelry that he wouldn’t talk about.

He hadn’t planned on any of it, really, but multiple times a day he would see something that reminded him of you and he just knew he had to take it. Even the jewelry he had stolen from the folks who were unlucky enough to start a fight with him.

After a while of successfully sneaking around the day came you’d both been expecting. Your father caught him. 

It wasn’t in the way you’d thought it would happen, thankfully. He didn’t walk in on the two of you or catch Arthur climbing up to your room or sneaking out of it. It was more subtle and less suspicious. The two of you, like the fools you were, were out in broad daylight at the stables on your property. You would go out there regularly to spend time with your horse so you knew your parents wouldn’t question you being down there. 

You should have known being that comfortable sneaking around was just asking to be caught. And sure enough, you were.

“(Y/N)? Who is this?”

You fucking twitched. When you turned around you saw your father standing behind you with a look of concern on his face and one of the stable boys watching the whole thing go down. You had given him some money earlier to keep his mouth shut and he sure was getting more than he asked for.

“Howdy mister!” Arthur waved and stepped past you. “Remember me? I stopped by here a while back to ask for some directions.”

Your father squinted and reluctantly shook his hand. Suddenly realization spread across his features as it all clicked. “Oh! Yes!” He laughed and clapped Arthur’s shoulder. “How have you been? Ever find your way?”

“Sure did, thanks to you. I was in town and was asking around, looking to buy some good horses, and a few folks told me you were the man to talk to.” You looked at Arthur with parted lips, in shock at how good of a liar he was. He turned a potential disaster into the most casual and normal interaction without the slightest effort. It was kind of scary.

Your father laughed and nodded, crossing his arms proudly. “You’ve come to the right place, follow me.” 

Arthur tossed you a wink and you had to smile then, dumbfounded by how smoothly the whole thing went.

***

After your father had whisked Arthur away to the expensive section of your stables you went back home. Your mother was preparing dinner along with one of the ranch hands, which surprised you. When you questioned why he was there she explained he was making his mother’s famous gumbo, your mother insisted upon it after she had sent some over to your family. 

When dinner rolled around your father made it back just in time, a surprise guest at his heels. 

“Jane, you remember this man, don’t you? He was the fellow on the white horse who asked for directions to-”

“Of course I do!” She wiped her hands with a kitchen rag, walking into the main room where the two men stood. 

You stood up from the kitchen table to watch the whole thing play out, locking eyes with Arthur who just shrugged.

“He came down today to buy a horse from us!” Your father said as he closed the front door behind them. “And to congratulate him on his purchase I’ve invited him to stay for dinner.”

Your mother smiled happily, it wasn’t often you had visitors that weren’t your families prude friends or relatives. “Good! We’re having gumbo tonight, Thomas is cooking his mother’s very own recipe.”

“Oh!” Your father raised his brows. “The one she sent over yesterday?”

“That’s the one.” 

“Brilliant! I loved that.” 

The two of them talked for a while before Thomas announced the soup was done and your mother went back into the kitchen to help him serve. Your father excused himself to wash up, telling you and his guest to have a seat in the dining room.

You sat down next to Arthur and gave him a look. 

“What?” When he finally noticed you looking at him he furrowed his brows.

“How did you manage that?”

“Manage what?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Come on. You’re the best liar I’ve ever met.”

Arthur shrugged, taking the glass of water that Thomas set down in front of him.

 “You must not of met a lot of people then.”

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” 

He chuckled and set the glass back down on the table after taking a few generous sips. “Before we almost got ourselves killed, I was going to give you somethin’.” Another gift? He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “Don’t let anyone see that.” He added with a whisper since Thomas had walked in with the rest of the drinks. 

You smiled at him and slowly unfolded the paper in your lap under the table. Once you had it done you squinted before realizing it was upside down. You flipped it the right way and your face was suddenly burning. Your breath caught in your throat as you took it all in, quickly folding it back up when your mother walked into the room carrying the giant pot of soup. 

The urge to punch him was strong. Why did he have to give that to you then? Why couldn’t he wait? You slipped the paper in the front pocket of your dress and cleared your throat. 

Arthur chuckled and took another sip of water, smiling sweetly at your mother as she started filling everyone's bowls. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

It was impossible to get the image out of your head. It was a drawing of you, completely naked, lying on your stomach with your head resting on your folded arms, your legs kicked up and locked at the ankles. You were looking directly into the viewer’s eyes with a wicked smirk on your face, some of your hair in your face. Once again you looked utterly magnificent, your body drawn in a way that accentuated every part of you perfectly. If it wasn’t a drawing of you, you probably would have gotten off to it. You probably would anyway, knowing Arthur was the one who drew it.

“What horse did you end up buying, Mr…”

“Arthur. The young brown mustang, think your husband called him Taro.”

Your mother nodded and sat down at the opposite end of the table when she was finally done serving. You wished she would let you help with dinner but she was firm in her belief, not allowing you or your father to help her in the slightest.

It was another ten minutes before your father finally joined you, taking his seat beside his wife. “Please excuse me, got carried away with my hair again.” He laughed and eagerly started eating. Your mother shared a laugh with him, chiding him lightly about how vain he was.

Most of dinner was fine, you all talked about the usual dinner subjects such as work, the weather, and town gossip. You barely paid attention though, the image of you drawn naked was stuck in your mind, along with the idea of Arthur drawing it. You wondered if he had done it in the heat of a lust filled moment or if it was just something normal to him.

What finally snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of a hand on your knee. You brushed it off at first, it seemed innocent enough, he had done it plenty of times before when the two of you laid together. It wasn’t inherently sexual.

But then he moved his hand lower, brushing his fingers against the hem of your dress. You looked at him with a subtle glance but he refused to acknowledge you at all. 

Crossing your legs you tried to get him to stop but that didn’t deter the cowboy at all. He pulled your dress up just enough to slip his hand under the fabric, then let the hem fall back down over his arm. You wanted to curse him out but you held your tongue and tried to act as natural as possible, taking another spoonful of soup into your mouth. 

“So, Arthur, you never told us what you do for a living.” Your father said after sending one of the kitchen maids to bring out a bottle of wine.

His hand traveled up to your thighs, his fingers gently rubbing circles over your skin. “Oh, well, it’s nothin’ excitin’. I work for a man collecting debts from people. Good money.”

“Oh!” Your father acted impressed, shrugging and exchanging a look with your mother. 

“If that isn’t exciting, I wonder what is to you!” Your mother laughed and so did your father.

‘Maybe fingering your daughter five feet away from you.’ You thought as you shifted in your seat, thankful for how high the table was. If it was any lower surely they would see that the lower half of his arm was extended towards you.

Slowly, extremely slowly, his hand continued it’s journey upwards. You forced yourself to keep a straight face, even when you felt the tips of his fingers brush against your panties. ‘No problem,’ you told yourself, feeling him pull the fabric aside so he could touch you better. ‘No big deal.’

Arthur rubbed slow circles into your clit with a firm amount of pressure, but not quick or firm enough to get you anywhere fast. And he knew it, too. He ate his second bowl of soup just as normally as he did the first, showing no signs of the fact that his fingers were about to be stuffed inside of you. 

You liked to think you looked just as calm as he did. You had finished your soup and were waiting for everyone else to so your mother could bring out dessert, and then you could finally leave the table. If only Arthur would hurry up and finish his meal. 

The small talk carried on and left almost no silence which worked to your advantage. If they were quiet they probably would hear how fast your breathing had gotten, especially when Arthur pushed that first finger inside of you. You had to practically bite through your tongue to keep the moan silenced. 

“(Y/N), you’re quiet, for once. Are you sick?” Your father joked and everyone laughed, including Arthur. That bastard. 

“I’m fine, just like listening to you all talk.” You said quickly, surprised at how even and calm your voice sounded. Almost as if you weren’t being finger fucked. 

That seemed to satisfy them enough and they carried on with conversation.

Normally at dinner, you rarely drank any wine, since you were never able to just have one glass. It always led to two, or sometimes even three, and you would end up passed out on your bed hours before you usually would. But tonight you happily drank, finishing the second glass right as Arthur had two fingers curling inside of you. 

As hard as you tried not to let yourself orgasm you could feel it approaching rapidly. Arthur could too, noting how your chest rose and fell and how you were twitching around his fingers. He slowed down momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath, before he was right back at it, quicker than before. He had a hard-on of his own but with his belt and gun holster in the way, no one would have the slightest idea, even if they looked right at his crotch. Lucky him.

“Are we ready for dessert?” Your mother's voice scared you out of your wits and you jumped. 

“Yes!” You laughed to draw attention away from the fact that you almost spilled your wine. 

She left along with the kitchen maid, directing her to get together new sets of dishes. 

His fingers curled quicker as he sipped on his wine, keeping his eyes anywhere but your father or you. Your father kept up the small talk, allowing you to give yourself the time to focus on having a discreet and quiet orgasm. 

You slowed your breathing as you felt it coming, gripping Arthur’s arm under the table with your left hand as you curled your other hand into a fist around your dress. He looked down at you for a split second, savoring the sight of you as best as he could before he forced himself to look away as to not look suspicious. He gave you a few more deep pumps before you came. The heat and tingles exploded, rippling from your clit and inside your body to your entire form. You bit your lip and looked down, sinking your nails into the skin of his arm. The waves of pleasure that coursed through your body were enough to make anyone scream but you kept your mouth shut and posture still. 

When it finally finished you sat back in your seat, running a hand through your hair as you sighed, wiping the sweat off your forehead when your father wasn't looking. Arthur smirked at you and you threw him the angriest glare you could, but you couldn’t keep it for long. When he chuckled you broke out into a smile and you had to look away so you didn’t laugh.

“Here it is!” Your mother said proudly as she carried the pecan pie into the dining room. “Took me all day!” 

Arthur made a show of looking impressed and your father praised your mother's cooking to no end, telling her that she was the best cook in the whole west. She smiled proudly and served everyone's plates. Thank god you had already came and Arthur’s hand was back where it belonged.

“I’m going to make you regret that.” You whispered to Arthur as your mother talked about how hard it was to find enough pecans. 

“Lookin’ forward to it.”

[yoursinfulurges]

Baby Blue Circumstances

Winwin ×| Taeyong ×| Jaehyun ●| Johnny ×| Irregular Office Series.

Description:

In which a handsome, young, rich man tries to persuade you into giving him full custody of your kids. Because 'Technically they were his'.......

Warnings: Graphic sex, not-so-vanilla kinks, mentions of adoption, abortion, alcohol, toxic relations, child neglect, plot based.

If you do not like any of these then i advise you to go read something else in my blog.

I feel like i don't need disclaimers because it's obvious that this ain't real so....

_____________

You scrambled to turn on the tv as the impatient three year old in your arm screams. Wincing at the sound as you hurriedly ran from one area to another. Your apartment filling with the sounds of high pitched cries, and overly positive pixilated cartoon characters. The cries seemed to only get louder as you placed her down for a millisecond, to swiftly grab her baby bottle from the microwave. It was well over Jaehye's feeding time, being that it was already two o'clock and that she usually ate at twelve. Your gaze shifts from the child in your arms to the other, peacefully sat on the sofa. Unlike his sister he was calm, even laughing at whatever the animated characters were saying. You smiled fondly at the child. And looked at Jaehye once more, noticing that her eyelids are at the midst of shutting, indicating that she was close to slumber. You smiled and slowly made your way to their shared bedroom. Entering the mellow, navy blue painted room; you carefully tried stepping over the lego's and ponies that were scattered all over the floor. Succeeding, and carefully placing your daughter on her bed. You wrapped her arms around her brown fuzzy teddy bear and gently tucked her in, not forgetting to close the curtains on your way out.

It had been exactly 1 year since you had adopted these two angels. Though it was a lifestyle that was quite hard adjust to, nonetheless you were glad you made the decision. You would've never imagined that you'd become a mother so soon, as you were just starting to get your life together. You were a college graduate one day and suddenly a mother of two the next. Your friends called you crazy; your father asked if you were mentally sane; your sister made it very clear to you she disapproved; whilst your mother tried persuaded you to do it. You were puzzled. But, you can truly say that it was the best decision of your life.

Yes it was a real pain in the ass at first, but now it's become second nature. You no longer have to wake up in the butt crack of dawn to feed them; as they were more than capable now to grab a baby bottle from the mini-fridge in their room. You saved up money and effort by potty training them. And your financials seemed to stabilized as you no longer needed to spend extra money on over priced diapers. You weren't exactly a natural at motherhood but over time you gained the skills and know the children like the back of your hand. Even having a stable routine for them, of course without the surprised tantrums and spontaneous needs for story times. Their favorite story by far was superwoman, as your daughter calls it. It the more child-friendly tale of how they came to be in your arms, but they didn't need to know that...

The story of these two touched you dearly. Really it was quite a fairytale. Whilst working as an editor for some fashion magazine you somehow caught wind of the story of these two from your co-works. It was said that they came from an unfit mother who neglected them, and left her twelve year old sister to care for the kids. Leaving them with sevier health problems. The mother was a drug addict that chose to spend her time at night clubs, instead of caring for her children. She liked the carefree lifestyle, and you tried to understand her, really. But everything went into the trash can after she was convicted for attempted murder of the kids, not to mention drug possession and distributing. You've met her and can truly say that she was the most vile and disgusting person you've ever met. And the father?.... that was uncertain... It saddened you to know that they were made by accident... Two precious and loving children were conceived with the soul purpose of pleasure.

You debated for weeks whether or not you should do it. Rolling out the con's and sticking with the pro's: a stable job with a nice boss that paid way over minimum wage, a big apparent, and a job that works from home most of the time. You've asked many for their opinions and while most encouraged you and applauded you, there were some that disapproved, your sister to be exact. You and her have always been close, her only being two years older. She was wise and you always trusted her guidance. You understood why she disapproved and couldn't really blame her. You were just getting your life together, this would just crumble everything down. You were sad that you couldn't get her approval, but you didn't really need her permission. It was mainly your parents who you really needed to consult with. Of course they were unsure at first but they trusted you and made sure you knew the responsibilities before encouraging you. You knew what you were doing. Those children needed a mother, they needed someone. And so, the very next day you found yourself leaving the orphanage in front of your work place, with two children at hand. They were happy, despite what they've gone through. Though you highly doubted that they even know what's happening.

That day was filled with so much laughter and fond memories. In just one day, you showed them more love than their previous mother ever did. They even refused to sleep in their own room, scared that when they wake up they'll be back at the hands of their unfit mother.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a lound knock on the front door. You stood up from your previous spot, on the couch, and slowly made your way to the door. Slowly opening it to reveal a handsome young man, that looked to be in his early twenties. He was wearing a grey suit that look very expensive, with brown swept back hair, and newly polished shoes. He was undoubtedly the hottest person you've ever seen...

"May i help you?" You asked, hesitancy clearly evident in your voice. "Yes, are you Ms. Lee by any chance?" He smiled, proudly displaying his dimples. His chocolate drown eyes sparkling in what looked to be delight, as his deep husky voice erupted from his lips. "That's me." You nodded. "I don't know how to tell you this, but im the father of your child." Your jaw dropped a little as your eyes blink rapidly, heart pounding in disbelief as you looked at the man again. He looked calm, pleased almost. "What are you- Jaeun, g-go look after y-your sister please..." You ordered, eyes not leaving the man. To which the little boy nodded to before turning off the tv and scurrying off. Clearly understanding that a talk between you and the man needed to be held without his presence. "Sister?" The man infront of you mumbled to himself. "I-i think you need to come in." Unnervingly, you said. To which he replied, "very well..."

"I didn't get your name?" He asked as he sipped on the wine he opted for instead of water. "Y/n, you?" The atmosphere was quieter than space; and ten times more awkwarder than your interactions with your neighbors who mate like wild rabbits. How do you follow up 'im the father of your child' by 'how was your day?' No.

"Jaehyun." He placed the wine glass down before clrossing his legs, a smirk playing on his lips. "S-so jaehyun why are you here exactly?" Jaehyun hm? Well now you can see where the mother got her inspiration from. She was probably moaning the name the entire night...

You saw the resemblance between him and the children, like the dimples and eyes, also the cheeks. They looked more like him than the mom, he was definitely the father. "Look I'll be very honest here. I wanna take back my child. I was unaware that they existed and i wanna raise him as my own now. So how much will it take." Was he thinking that he could just pay you off like that? Fuck no. Who does he think he is. To walk in here thinking he can buy the children off you. They are your children now not his. If he wants them he's gonna have to kill you off first. You were enraged as a matter of fact.

"Excuse me!? Do you just think you can pay me off like that? They're my children now, not yours. You may be the father but they're under my custody now." It was evident in your voice that you were angry but your stature remained calm. So did his, he just sat there and sipped on his wine, angering you even more. Did he think this was some game? "Look y/n, how much do you want, im prepared to pay any amount." He probed once more. "I don't want your money." Did he think he was doing you some good? You had money too, financials are the last thing you should be worrying about...

"Very well then, i didn't wanna have to do this but, Ms. Lee y/n, im suing you." He couldn't sue you, he had nothing against you. He just hoped that you would buy his bullshit and give him what he wanted.

"Suing me? You have nothing on me. What are you gonna sue me for? I signed the legal papers that clearly stated they are my children now! It was never stated that there were two legal guardians that i needed signatures from. Technically, you can't sue me!"

Damn you were smart...

"Im still suing you."

"For what!"

"Emotional distress!"

"Emotional distress?! Unbelievable! Get out!" You scoffed. Anger flowing through your vains.

"Mommy what's with all the screaming?"

In the midst of glaring at jaehyun a high pitched voice spoke, breaking your strong gaze. Your eyes soften as you turn to the hallway and see both your kids innocently watching.

"Nothing baby, nothing. This man was just leaving, go back to your room." You softly uttered.

"There's two of them?..." Asked jaehyun as he takes in the child's features.

"Yes, they're twins." The tone you used was unreadable, a mix of defeat and agony.

"Can I just talk to them, please. Then I'll leave." He begged, a glimpse of desperation in his eyes. You couldn't say no, you just couldn't...

"Alright, but don't tell them you're their father. Their not ready yet..." Jaehyun nodded and you called the kids to sit with you. They were hesitant at first but eventually did.

"Hi." Jaeun was the first to speak up.

"Hello." Jaehyun laughed at the boys cuteness.

"I'm jaeun, who are you?" He asked, pointing at the males direction.

"I'm jaehyun, nice to meet you." Jaehyun spoke to the child with care and gentleness. You saw how eagerly he wanted to get to know them. Extremely vulnerable to rejection.

"Nice to meet you hyung, that's my sister jaehye, but she's really shy..." jaehyun diverts his attention to the little girl curled up in your arms and waves. Jaehye smiles and waves back at him before quickly hiding in your chest.

"Look, I'm not giving you full custody of my kids, but you are always welcome to come and see them." You said sternly, arms wrapping around the frail figure in your arms.

Jaehyun nodded and smiled. That day he left with an unshakable feeling of excitement and a new formed attraction towards you.

He knew then and there that he wanted to be the father of your children. And if you will have him, the husband of your dreams.

Part 2?

Let me know what you guys thought of it.

[laurens-lil-fics]

Love Hate Part 2 - Owen Grady x Reader

Summary: Owen seeks out an old friend before leaving on Claire’s rescue mission.

Word Count: 2674

Part 1

Warnings: Some cursing, some angst. Fluffy shit. Some spoilers!

Author’s note: I finally busted this one out! Decided to give it a fluffy ending since I think we all needed one. I really wanna write more family stuff in the future.

Owen remembered everything. Seeing Claire in front of his soon-to-be-cabin brought it all back to him. Those memories he’d been trying to hard to repress, him, Claire, the boys… (Y/n).

After Claire left him alone at the bar he sat there, alone with his thoughts as he had been for the past 3 years. He hadn’t seen (Y/n) since the incident.

Once they both had a moment alone he told her everything. How he felt, how long he had been feeling that way. Maybe it was the predator that had almost ripped them apart, but he wanted her to know. Maybe it would lead to something more.

But (Y/n) only stared at him in disbelief before standing and walking away. He couldn’t blame her, after the events prior of his confession of course she’d be too shaken up to respond. But even once they made it to the mainland she turned away from him when he approached her.

Owen didn’t know much about her, but he knew she was at least somewhat nearby. A quick google search with the help of the bar’s shitty wifi gave him an address to her work. It looked like she was working from home… at least she was keeping busy.

Finishing his beer, he paid his tab and left.

It was about a half hour drive to her place, and he knew it was the right address when he saw her outside, tightening the screws on the little sign outside.

(L/N) PRIVATE SECURITY AND PROTECTION.

Owen scoffed to himself and climbed out of his truck, alerting both (Y/n) and the large, black pitbull at her side.

“Closed for today, unless you have an emergency we’ll be open tomorrow at 10.” She called over her shoulder, focusing on her sign.

The pitbull slowly stood and approached Owen, taking him in as he approached. A low growl had Owen laughing sheepishly and raising his hands at the dog.

“Eaaasy, doggy. I don’t have any treats for you or anything…” He said, glancing at (Y/n) who was now watching him.

“Gimme a reason why I shouldn’t sick Stella on you right now.” She grunted, standing and tossing the screwdriver into the bag of tools at her feet.

“Would you believe me if I said I wanted to take you to dinner…?” He asked, letting down his guard once Stella turned to (Y/n).

(Y/n) kneeled beside the dog, gently cupping her slobbery cheeks while she ordered her to go to her kennel.

Owen noticed the nasty scars stretched across her left bicep and bit his lip.

The ACU squads were dropping like flies, the heart monitors on the giant screen in the control room were flatlining one by one. It was like something out of a horror movie.

Owen could hear the screams covering (Y/n) yelling for what was left of her unit to fall back. He watched her through her POV camera, how she fired at the Indominus to take it’s attention off the remaining squad members.

The Indominus swiped at her, her camera went black. Her heart rate skyrocketed and Owen felt his heart drop to his stomach when he heard her scream echo in the control room.

Her camera was broken but her headset mic worked just fine, so Owen could hear every last scream and grunt and prayer while he watched one of the last survivors attempt to drag her to safety.

With another scream the person carrying her was torn away from (Y/n). The last time he actually saw her was through a random body’s camera.

She was crawling under the thick, raised roots of a tree, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs. The Indominus approached the tree, slowly lowering its head to peek under the tree.

(Y/n) sobbed harder and pressed herself into the tree, just out of the Rex’s reach.

Owen snatched the headset from Lowery, hoping (Y/n) could hear him as he spoke into the mic.

“(Y/n) just hold on! I’m coming for you, I’m gonna be right there, wait for me!”

(Y/n) didn’t really remember running out from under the tree. She just remembered somehow ending up at the waterfall with a tourniquet around the upper part of her left arm.

Owen remembered feeling his stomach twist into knots when the tree was vacant. Soon enough Claire pointed out her footprints, but that didn’t help the sinking feeling he was getting.

It was the same feeling he had right now when (Y/n) caught him staring at her scars.

“You come here just to look at the freakshow? Or are you actually here to take me out?” she asked, standing as Stella trotted off to her kennel.

Owen scratched at the back of his head awkwardly, shrugging slightly. “I mean, I wanna talk about some other stuff too, but we can talk about it over some steak… Or burgers? That’s all that’s really out here, huh?” he rambled on.

(Y/n) cocked an eyebrow at him, resting her hands on her hips. “So this isn’t about dinner…”

“No no, cmon. Let’s go, you know I’m buying.” he said, shifting under her gaze.

“I’m not going anywhere till you tell me what this is really about.” she insisted.

Owen sighed to himself, scratching the back of his head. “Look, you’ve heard about Claire’s hippy thing right? The Save the Dinosaurs campaign?”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, turning to walk to her cabin. “I’m not donating to your girlfriend’s dead charity, Owen.”

Owen quickly grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. “I’m not asking for donations, and she’s not my girlfriend-”

“Remove your hand before I remove it for you.” She cut in, glancing between him and his hand.

Owen quickly pulled his hand back, resting it on his hips.

“She came to me asking if I’d go on this suicide rescue mission… But I need someone there that I trust if I’m gonna go through with it.”

“You’re not serious.” (Y/n) said, shaking her head at him. “This is some sad joke and you’re not actually asking me to go with you.”

Owen shook his head, sighing softly. “I wish I was. (Y/n) no one ever… ever had my back like you did. Despite your nagging and the fighting and yelling, you always had my back. If I’m gonna do this I need someone like that with me. Someone who I know I can count on in a tight spot.”

(Y/n) scoffed, looking him over. “No… fuck no… Im not going back, fuck no and fuck you for even asking me.” she began walking back to her cabin, only for Owen to grab her once again.

“(Y/n) cmon, if not for me then for Claire!”

“Yeah well fuck Claire too!” she snapped, turning and pushing him with all her might, managing to force him back. “You both ruined my life!”

Owen stayed silent, watching her collect herself before sitting on her porch steps.

“You both left me to die in that jungle…” She trailed off, unconsciously rubbing at the scars on her arms. “You can say as much as you want that you came looking for me… But you only came for the boys…”

Owen sat beside her, making sure to leave enough room between the two of them so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. “I did come for you, (Y/n)... You had no idea how scared I was when you weren’t under that tree… I thought I’d lost you.”

(Y/n) smiled bitterly and looked up at him, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Then after everything was over, when I brought the boys back it was like I was invisible. To both of you. I never got so much as a thank you.

“I thought she and I were close, we respected each other… But you were the one she thanked when her nephews were back home, safe. I almost bled out in the jungle, cold and in pain to save those kids... No one ever acknowledged that.”

The two grew silent, both processing everything (Y/n) had just said.

Owen hated all the press he got after the incident. He hated being paraded around, being called a hero, it was all bullshit to him. He never realized through all that (Y/n) was made out to be a victim and nothing more.

“I bet Zack and Gray don’t feel that way…” Owen said, carefully moving closer to her. “Zack’s probably at college right now… Grey’s in high school… They probably think about you every day.”

(Y/n) smiled to herself and looked down at her feet, jumping when Stella ran from her kennel to join the two.

“Is that really the only reason you want me out there? To watch your back” she asked, glancing at Owen as the pitbull rested her head in (Y/n)’s lap.

Biting his lip Owen rested his eyes on Stella, who had been watching him like a hawk. “I wanted to see you again… At least if you said no I’d be able to see how you were holding up after everything. Maybe figure out why you never called…”

(Y/n) sighed softly, shaking her head as she spoke. “We always fought like cats and dogs… I felt like you just hated me cuz I bossed you around… A really weird day got even weirder when you told me how you felt.”

“I didn’t hate you,” he shook his head, carefully scratching Stella’s head, “I didn’t like getting bossed around, yeah… Maybe I did hate you, a little bit… But I didn’t wanna see you gone. You made the job worth it.”

(Y/n) smiled slightly and finally met his gaze.

A moment passed before (Y/n) sighed and looked down at Stella. “Lets go get that dinner… If I die out there I’m gonna be wined and dined before I leave.”

“So you’re comin then?” Owen’s lips quirked up into a small smile.

“You’ll die without me, Mr. Grady… When do we leave?” she asked.

“Claire says there’s a plane leaving tomorrow morning. I dunno if drinking’s the best idea…” he murmured, pulling the keys to his truck from his pocket.

“Then we better get started.”

“Maise… Maise you’re choking me…” (Y/n) wheezed, earning a soft whine from the young girl who was currently on her back with her arms around her throat.

“I got her…” Owen mumbled, carefully taking her off (Y/n) and cradling her in his arms. “Where should I put her?”

“She can sleep in my bed… It’s right down that hall, first door on the left.” (Y/n) mumbled, dropping her and Maise’s bag beside the door of her home.

Owen nodded, wandering off into the small cabin (Y/n) had called home. Maise curled up in his arms, humming in her sleep once he laid her in the queen sized bed. He took off her little converse and tucked her in, smiling softly as she started snoring.

Returning to the living room, he found (Y/n) laid out on the couch, a beer in one hand and her head in the other.

(Y/n) glanced up at him, tossing an unopened bottle his way and moving her legs off the couch.

He plopped down beside her and sighed deeply, opening the bottle and taking a swig, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion hit him.

The two sat in silence, sitting flush against the opposite ends of the couch, neither really knowing what to say.

“... Did we really have to let out the carnivores too…?” (Y/n) piped up, finishing her beer.

Owen stayed silent for a moment before snorting and chuckling, glancing at her as she pulled another bottle from the six pack beside the foot of the couch.

“You sure you’re fine looking after Maise…?”

“I feel like she’ll be safest with me, don’t you?” (Y/n) shrugged, watching Owen relax into the couch. “Besides… I wasn’t as high profile as you and Claire after the incident… No one would really think to look for her with me, right?”

Owen finished his beer and sighed deeply, nodding as he set his empty bottle on the nearby coffee table. “Yeah I guess you’re right… but say someone does come lookin for her-”

“You’ll be the first one I call.” (Y/n) cut in, giving him a slight smile.

Owen smiled back and turned to fully face her, draping his arm over the side of the couch.

“Yknow you were right…” he trailed off, taking the beer she offered him and nodding in thanks. “I woulda died without you.”

“If this is about the jungle… Anyone would have done that, Owen. If Claire were there she would-”

“But it wasn’t just anyone with me, (Y/n). It was you.” He interrupted, setting his beer on the coffee table and moving closer to her. “You carried my tranqued ass through the jungle… You got me out of there in one piece… Yeah, Claire could have done that, or Zara or Franklin. But they didn’t… You were there for me.”

A smile slowly broke out onto her features and (Y/n) looked down at her lap.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t really know what I wanted-” (Y/n) pressed her lips to Owen’s before he could continue. Owen slowly closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, unable to mask his disappointment when (Y/n) pulled away a moment later.

“You were an idiot… But I was too. We shouldn’t waste anymore time tip-toeing around each other. I know what I want… Do you?”

Owen nodded eagerly and pulled her close, cupping the back of her neck with one hand and her waist with the other. Their lips met, clouding the rest of the world around them as Owen laid her back onto the couch.

(Y/n)’s beer clattering to the floor wasn’t enough to separate them, but the small patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor had Owen leaping off her.

“(Y/n) can I have a glass of water?” Maise asked, unaware of what had been going on in the living room prior to her arrival.

“Yeah! Yeah of course, sweetie. Lemme grab that for you.” (Y/n) scrambled off the couch and went to the kitchen, leaving Maise alone with Owen.

“How ya doin, kiddo?” Owen coughed, picking the forgotten bottle off the floor while Maise circled around the couch and sat down.

“I had a bad dream…” she frowned, her groggy state leaving her oblivious to the light tint to Owen’s cheeks. “I miss my grandpa.”

Owen frowned and set the empty bottle down before sitting beside her. He wrapped his arm around her small frame and gently rubbed her shoulder. “Hey now, you can stay up with me and (Y/n) if you want… I’m sure she’s got something we can watch until you start feeling tired again. Does that sound good?”

Maise smiled softly and leaned into him, eagerly nodding her head and thanking him.

(Y/n) returned with Maise’s glass of water and smiled, sitting on the opposite side of Maise and turning on the TV. “You guys mind if I scooch in here?”

Maise wrapped her arms around (Y/n) and rested her head against her chest and her legs on Owen’s lap.

The two adults stole a glance at each other, smiled, and looked back at the tv. Normally Owen would be upset about the interruption, but some some reason he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. He had been waiting so long for (Y/n) to be in his life, now she was, along with an extraordinary little girl who already had his heart in her little hands.

All that was missing was Blue. She was somewhere out there. Maybe she’d come back, maybe she wouldn’t. If she did, Owen felt at peace knowing she would have a new family to come home to.

[hermannsthumb]

silly prompt time: newmann on vacation, somewhere near the sea. newton goes to the city and buys a cheap booze from, one may argue, a questionable place. the results of such actions go as well as you may predict

WOOOOEEEEE this was fun! not in the least bc im at the beach rn too. (sorry for not posting anything the past 2 days ive been a little busy!)

The rental website promised them three bottles of wine--one red, one white, one rose--in the fridge or cabinet when they arrived. A special treat for the illustrious Drs. Geiszler-Gottlieb on behalf of the world, and to a lesser extent, the rental agency. Now, as they face an empty fridge and an even emptier cabinet, Newt wonders as to the ethics of complaining about lack of delivery of a free--but promised--gift. “Not a single bottle,” Newt says. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Go to the beach without wine?” Hermann suggests. He’s in that dorky striped linen shirt Newt likes, a sunhat so big the brim covers his eyes, and khaki shorts that go past his knees. Newt loves him so much his heart aches.

“It’s our honeymoon,” Newt says, offended that Hermann would even suggest the prospect, “and we saved the world, and we’re old bastards. We deserve to get hammered on the beach. I’ll get the wine.” He snags the car keys off of the dresser.

Hermann pushes up the brim of his hat to give Newt an imploring look. “Can’t we just enjoy the day and worry about wine later?” (He doesn’t say what Newt knows he wants to say, which is that Newt’s driving is questionable at best and he doesn’t exactly trust Newt with the--okay, Hermann’s--car.)

Usually Newt would worry about this later, damn the wine, but the prospect of them both getting plastered with some idyllic backdrop means a relaxed Hermann who’s less embarrassed about getting handsy in public. On a beach, no less. A kaiju-free beach. “Nope,” Newt says, and jingles the keys merrily in Hermann’s face before kissing his cheek goodbye and skipping out the front door.

The nearest liquor-selling establishment is a twenty minute drive into town, and Newt gets lost twice on the way there. Actually entering the liquor store is a trip too--Newt’s experience with wine pretty much stops at the shitty boxed variety, and one time, some weird mint chocolate eggnog-flavored wine that Tendo brought to a New Year’s party as a joke, so he doesn’t really know where to begin--and nearly everything in the place is on sale, which can’t be a good sign. Still, Newt says, debates champagne, and beer, and some weird stout that’s mixed with coffee or something, before finding a tall bottle of some novelty, electric-blue vodka on the (large) discount shelf. Half off. Nice. “Is this supposed to be kaiju blue?” Newt says to the guy working the register, waving it.

The guy shrugs. Newt puts a bottle on the counter.

Hermann’s waiting impatiently on the wicker chair on the beach house porch when Newt strolls up some time later. The sun’s already setting so Hermann should be thanking him, really; there’s less chance of either of them getting sunburned, something Hermann complains endlessly about. More than Newt does. “Finally,” Hermann says. He hoists himself to his feet. He’s wearing his cute round glasses still, too. “Off to the beach, then?”

Newt hands Herman the blue bottle, and Hermann blanches. “One second,” Newt says, already wiggling out of his t-shirt. “Gotta get ready.”

“Where’s the wine?” Hermann says. “I thought you went out--” But Newt’s shutting the door behind himself and stripping out of his shorts.

Newt’s prediction was right: Hermann is a little more amenable to going at it on the sand after they’ve each had a few drinks, especially once the sun sets and it’s just them on the beach. Unfortunately, the weird vodka is a bit more potent than he realized and they go from pleasantly buzzed to giddily tipsy in hardly any time at all. It doesn’t help that they’re both, admittedly, lightweights. Newt realizes he’s made a mistake after the third time he goes in to kiss Hermann and hits the tip of his nose with his lips instead of his mouth. But Hermann giggles, which is exponentially cuter than anything Newt’s heard in his life.

“Wine,” Newt declares into the crook of Hermann’s neck. “We should’ve just gotten wine. I should’ve.” He’s sprawled happy across Hermann’s chest, his knees resting on the blanket on either side of Hermann, careful not to put pressure on Hermann’s leg. He’s all sandy, too; before ultimately falling into a heap of kisses with Hermann, Newt thought it’d be fun to build a bunch of sandcastles and stomp through them like Godzilla. And it was fun, if maybe in slightly questionable taste given recent events, but this is more fun.

Hermann’s hat is askew (he hasn’t taken it off yet) and the top of his linen shirt is undone. He strokes through Newt’s hair affectionately. “Newton,” he says, “my dear Newton. Dear man.”

Hermann hasn’t been this tipsy since the little party they threw at the Shatterdome after the world didn’t end. It’s also adorable. The side of his glasses bump into the side of Newt’s with a little clack. “Mm?” Newt hums. Hermann strokes his hair again.

“I am very fond of you,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Newt snorts. “You did marry me.” He kisses the little exposed bit of Hermann’s neck, brushing his lips against the linen collar of his shirt. He tries to wriggle his hands between their bodies to unclasp another one of Hermann’s buttons, but Hermann shakes his head.

“Ah. Not here.” He pats Newt’s back. “I don’t want to get sand on me.”

“Fair,” Newt sighs. The chafing would be a bitch. He snuggles in again. The waves on crashing gently on the shore make for some nice, relaxing background noise. Newt could almost fall asleep. His eyelids feel heavy.

“Newton,” Hermann murmurs, “stars. Above us.”

“Mm,” Newt hums again, not bothering to look up at the sky, and he noses at Hermann’s neck, the beginning of the fuzzy bit of his undercut.

Hermann prods his back again. “Please don’t fall asleep on me,” he says. He sounds muffled.

It’s a block back to the rental. A block back over dunes, and then up uneven stairs, stairs they’ll certainly both end up stumbling down if they attempt to climb. He’s doing them both a favor if he falls asleep here. “It’s cool,” Newt says. “We’re fine like this.” He shifts his hands to the blanket so he’s bracing less of his weight on Hermann. It’s so fucking cool being married to Hermann, you know? “It’s so fucking cool,” Newt says, sitting up to look Hermann in the eyes, “being married to you.” He bumps his nose against Hermann’s.

Hermann’s hands go to Newt’s sides, and he squeezes them gently. “Newton,” he declares, “I feel exactly the same.” And then his eyelids start to droop, glasses and hat and all. Newt rolls off and lands heavily on the sheet they brought with them, then cuddles up against Hermann. “I’m not falling asleep,” Hermann mumbles into his hair.

“Of course not,” Newt agrees, with a snicker. They’ll make it back to the rental eventually.

[vocallykaix]

Lost and Found {4}

genre: mostly fluff, tad of angst??

requested: @tenjaehyunsehuntaemin

length: 2.4k words

pairing: Johnny Seo x Reader

summary: The best time of the week was the weekend when you can see your 4 year old niece but one close call led you to meeting a certain handsome man

It had been a few months since you had first met Young Ho and you’d gotten so close you’d even surprised yourself, you’d always either be out around the park with Sun Hee watching Young Ho chase her around the fields or lounging around your place watching movies or finishing assignments you’d both left till last minute. Just in these last few months It had become routine to have Young Ho with you and you were worried how accustomed you’d gotten to his presence and how lonely you’d now feel when he wasn’t there, it would feel too quiet watching a movie on your own now and painfully boring to do your assignments in solitude.

Your time with Young Ho had mostly been great but you’ve lost count how many times your hangouts had been cut short by a phone call that makes him flee the scene every time. You’d tried asking about it but he’d always find a way to change the subject. It was clear to you whatever it was, he wasn’t planning on telling you any time soon. It made you feel uneasy, that there was something he was hiding but you didn’t think it was your place to demand to know, from your months with him you knew he was wonderful so it wasn’t that you thought he was a bad guy because he was far from it, it just the fact that he was so against talking about it making your curiosity bloom.

It was Thursday, 1pm when you got a text from a familiar contact

Young hoee :p - do you have plans for tonight?

Young hoee :p - wait it’s you of course you don’t, me and my friends are going to a night club later, you in?

You roll your eyes and scoff before typing back

(Y/n) >•< - first of all, rude but true and second idk, I haven’t met any of your friends

Young hoee :p - just trust me, they’re cool, isn’t your friend back from vacation now? Bring her

(Y/n) >•< - I’ll think about it

Young hoee :p - nope, see you at 8 ~

You shake your head, these uni boys only know how to party and now they’re dragging you into it, you don’t even think you have any night club kinda clothes.

You still had some time before you had to go to work so you decided to call Min Seo before you forgot. Her parents lived in London for most of her life and she just moved back here around 4 years ago and you’d always seemed to have the same classes so you became best friends by default but any chance they got they’d fly back over to England to see her grandparents who still lived there leaving you to wallow in your pity back here alone, well until you had Young Ho.

She picked up after the second ring and her yelling almost shattered your ear drum

“SHUT UP AND GET OUT! IM ON THE PHONE” she screamed

“Umm Min?” You move the phone away from your ear just in case but you were met with her usual soft voice

“Sorry, this family drives me up the bloody wall” she sighed

“Don’t be dramatic, how was England!?”

“It was so cold, but I loved seeming my grandparents? And What did I miss? I heard there’s a boy that’s taken my place?”

“How has he taken your place?” You laugh

“So there is a boy? You better spill the beans! Is he hot?”

“Very but that’s not why I’m calling you, he’s invited us both to go clubbing with his friends, can you come? Please say you can come?”

“Umm I’m not sure, I’ll ask my mom if she can take her little shits back, what time are we talking?”

“Get to my place around 7”

“Okay, I’ll text you when I know what’s happening”

“Okay, I better get ready for work, talk to you later”

“Later~” you hung up and hopped in the shower to get ready for work.

Working at a convenience store was indeed pretty convenient, it was a pretty laid back job that almost never caused any problems other then the odd drunk guys who go in to buy more alcohol on the way home so most days you would just sit behind the counter on your phone, you didn’t slack but there was just never much to do, so your shift passed pretty quickly

Min seo <33 - you still at work?

Y/N :3 - yup, five more minuets

Min seo <33 - I’ll pick you up on my way

Y/N :3 - this is why I love youuu ~

You packed up all your things and waited for Jungwoo, he always took the shift next to yours, he was a really nice guy and you were pretty close, he’d always say hi with a smile whenever you saw each other and you’d often go and get coffee together. He strolled in at 7 on the dot “ (y/n), how are you?” He smiled putting his things in to the locker

“Great now I can go home, how are you?”

“Amazing! My boyfriend is finally telling his parents about us” he was practically glowing, he’d always been telling you how much he’d love to freely date his boyfriend but his boyfriend hadn’t came out to his parents yet because his parents were religious, you had always been the one on the phone to him as he cried about how stressful the situation was becoming and at one point he was ready to call it all of if his boyfriend didn’t do something soon which you guess was what had led to his boyfriend telling his parents after a long year. In return he’d also act as your councillor with the boys you’d previously dated and would take you out when Min Seo was gone so overall Jungwoo was another pretty big part of your life.

“Jungwoo that’s so amazing! I’m so happy for you” you cheered

“Girl I know! But anyways how’s that Young Won guy treating you?” He smirked tying his apron on as you took yours of

“Young Ho, and he’s invited me and my friend to go clubbing tonight”

“For the love of god don’t get drunk and embarrass yourself” he said pointing at you, you shook you head and laugh.

A car beeped it’s horn outside and you saw Min Seo inside waving you over

“That’s my lift, I’ll see you later, make sure you tell me how it goes with his parents”

“Of course, see you later. don’t embarrass yourself” he sang as he waved.

You and Min Seo rush to your closet to try and make you look semi-decent for the night in the little time you had. You’d thrown half your closet across your room before deciding on a black off the shoulder shirt and a skirt that stopped mid thigh, Min Seo curled your hair while you did your make up,

“Not going to lie, I’d fuck you like that” Min Seo nodded looking you up and down through the mirror “I’m good at this” you rolled your eyes and slipped on your heels on

“They’ll be here in few minutes, quick pre drink?” You said jogging over to the kitchen and pulling a few bottles out

“How could I say no” Min Seo smirked.

Half a bottle of vodka later a knock at the door echoed through your small apartment, you walk over to the door and reveal Young Ho looking stupidly good again “you ready?” He said putting his hands in his jeans pocket “yup, care for a quick shot on the way out” you didn’t give him a chance to reply as you tugged him inside by his hand “here” you held out your shot glass now filled with the strong smelling vodka

“Have you guys already drunk half a bottle?” He laughed throwing the shot down his neck

“What’s a night out with out the pre drinks” Min Seo giggled already feeling a buzz “you better have some hot boys with you” she pointed slipping her jacket on

“I have plenty” he put the shot glass in your sink “where’s your coat?” He said turning to you

“It’s just by the door, I’m just gonna put this away” you nodded toward the bottles. You put them back where you found them making sure the lids were on properly and as you stood up you felt something being draped over your shoulders “come on” Young Ho wined securing the jacket on to your shoulders

“Thanks” you avert your eyes to the floor as he pushed you towards the door by your lower back.

You could feel the heat from your cheeks as you made your way to the taxi but it was dark so you were just preying they wouldn’t notice, it was such a simple, friendly gesture but because it was from Young Ho it made your stomach churn and it wasn’t the first time it had happened either. You were sure you were attracted to him but you weren’t sure how deep these feeling went and you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself and assume he felt the same way.

“The boys are already there” young Ho said looking down at his phone

“ is it weird I’m nervous to meet your friends?”

“Once you get a few more shots in you I’m sure you won’t be” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

The floor was vibrating from the strong bass of the music as you followed behind Young Ho weaving between the sweaty body’s until you saw someone run up to him “Johnny! What took you so long?” He slurred and laughed hitting him on the chest, young Ho sighed and turned to you

“(y/n), Min Seo this is Ten, Ten this is (y/n) and Min Seo”

“Ohh so your (y/n)! Johnny said th-“ young Ho quickly pulled him away and toward a group of boys sitting at the bar leaving you confused and curious as to what he’s been saying behind your back. the boys at the bar all yelled greetings to him and You slowly made your way over “Johnny please tell me this is the chick you brought” you look over to one of the boys with his eyes locked on to you

“Yes she is Jaemin” young Ho pulled you next to him and put his arm over your shoulders “this is (y/n), please don’t do anything stupid and make her uncomfortable” it was too late for that but you were happy he was trying,

They all laughed smirking at johnny who still had you under his arm

“Here” Min Seo came from behind you handing you a fruity looking drink

“And who is this” one of them asked

“Hi, I’m Min Seo” she spoke with a not so innocent smile

“Hi, I’m Yuta, do you wanna dance?” The same one asked holding out his hand which she gladly took and they both made their way to the dance floor

“Wow that didn’t take long” you sigh

“Yuta has always been a flirt, I’m Taeyong” the boy closest to you stuck his hand out for you to shake, they didn’t seem too bad.

There was 5 people that had come with young Ho, it was that Yuta guy who stole Min Seo, the other flirty one was Jaemin, the drunk one was Ten, the sensible one was Taeyong and the cute guy with dimples was yoon oh. They were pretty cool like Young Ho had promised and not long after you met them you were clutching your stomach from laughing so hard. They all worked at the Radio place with Young Ho except Jaemin who had just left school, he was still young and the boys weren’t letting him drink a lot.

“Want to dance?” Young Ho asked as the other boys talked

“Sure” you tip back the rest of your drink and followed young Ho through the crowed until he turned to you satisfied with the space. He placed a hand on your hip and you laced your hands around his neck as you both swayed to the beat of the song. You saw him say something but couldn’t make it out over the loud music “what?” You shouted, he said it again but you still couldn’t hear “I can’t hear you” you shouted and shrugged your shoulders, he rolled his eyes and went down to your ear

“I said are you enjoying yourself?” He talked into you ear and you could feel his hot breath on your neck before he pulled away laughing, you pulled him back “I’m having a great time, why do they call you Johnny?” You felt his neck vibrate as he laughed

“I used to live in America and that’s my name there, I use it when doing broadcasts to”

“Shall I start calling you Johnny?”you laughed

“No, Young Ho sounds good from you” he smiled

“why don’t you show me some of your moves anyway, mr DJ” You laugh releasing him and giving him some room. You wish you’d never asked, he was throwing his limbs around to his own rhythm while you doubled over laughing “stop! Your embarrassing” you laugh, he just raised his eyebrows and continued “ people are looking” you hold his arms and shake your head

“Didn’t you like it?” He pouted trying to hold his his laugh placing his hands back on you sides and continued to sway to the song

“No I did, I just think I should keep it to myself” you put you hands back on his neck and he was just looking at you, the smile on his face slowly dropping and his eyes went from your eyes to your lips. The mood changed so quickly you could barely tell what was going on, You blame the sudden surge of confidence on the alcohol but you pulled him down slowly and connected your lips, it was a still kiss, both of you testing the waters before pulling away

“How much have you had to drink?” He asked keeping close so your noses were still touching

“I know what I’m doing, Young Ho”

“Did you like it” he asked more quietly, you just smiled pulling him to reconnect you lips. This time the kiss was more rushed, both of your lips moving together as he pulled your waist into his, keeping his hands planted on your hips as you tightened you arms around his neck making him lean into you. He tasted delicious.

part: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6

a/n

heheh i know i’m evil for ending it like that but this is where this series will finally pick up, thank you for all of you that have been reading so far, i hope you continue to enjoy the series <333

[ratsntophats]

Personal

I doubt anyone will read this. I doubt anyone will care. But at this point, i need to get this out of my system. Im not looking for pity points. Im not looking for someone to give me anything at all. I just wish things were easier.

This year fucking blows. I know i know, i always try to be the optimist. Open minded, life is what you make it, yadda yadda. But honestly, there is a darkness in me too, and sometimes i just have to embrace the inevitable. I can't always be bright. I cant always feel hope. Right now i feel buried in the ground with no understanding or motivation to get back up.

Lets piece this one thing at a time.

January. January was pretty cool. I was in love with a girl and a boy, taboo I know. But i thought i was happy. I thought WE were happy. But i guess i was wrong. I was naive. I only saw what i wanted to, i guess? Anyway. In January we all went to Colorado on vacation. It was relaxing, it was fun. We eat, we got high, we saw new places. We even scouted out where we might want to move in a few years, a school we might want to attend. At the time I wasn't totally sole on this plan. Moving halfway across the country is a big deal. But no means did i think this event would bring about an end to my false happiness, the love i thought was reciprocated, from the girl i dumbly wanted to marry.

February comes around. The break up. Out of the blue i get a text. "We need to talk". I was at work when this happened. My heart sunk. Without any warning, or prior talks, i knew. I knew she had given up, somehow. I tried to convince myself that i was overreacting. Of course this wasnt what she wanted to talk about. But i retreated into the office, haunted by fear, anxiety, doubt, and confusion. I cried my eyes out. My voice came hoarse on the walkie system when my coworker tried to find me. He tried ro console me, but i couldn't explain. How could i tell him that i was dating her? She didn't want anyone to know. The entire relationship it killed me inside. I wanted the world to know that this beautiful girl was my girlfriend but she wanted to hide. She was ashamed of me, i guess. Of us. How could i explain that i thought my "roommate", who worked at the same company nonetheleas, was breaking up with me?

After a long, painful shift i returned home. We waited. She wasnt home. We waited. It wae last midnight when she returned to "talk". She explained that she had to talk to someone else first. Someone else she had just met and barely knew. She made us wait, in utmost confusion, until the middle of the night, for HER to explain what this"talk" was about.

"I think we should break up." I couldn't handle it. In one of my weakest moments, heartbroken, I ran outside the apartment sobbing, wandering the streets alone, in my PJs. I don't know how long i wae gone. Eventually we came back. More things werw discussed. I wasn't fully there, not for a while. Even after, i wasnt myself for some time. I don't know how i let it hurt me this bad. But i truly loved her. My dumb self loved her and watched her hook up with the random guy i was never supposed to worry about. It was over. She was never proud of me, of us. For all i know it could have meant nothing to her. And now here i am, almost a year later, still thinking of that beautiful girl.

The awkward month continued. I, luckily, started a new job which kept me busy. I was so excited to make a difference. I felt so proud of my first salaried job.

I was proud. Until, fast forward to months, shit hits the fan. On April Fools day of all days I get on the wrong end of a dispute with one of my clients and am shoved head first into a god damned TV stand. I have never seen so much blood in my life. I was rushed off to the ER, and found that i had broken multiple bones in my nose and cheek, plus a huge gash where i landed. I spend the night in the hospital. The next day, i am cleared to rest at home.

2 weeks of recovery go by slowly. I get a lot of messages of concern and well wishes. I return to work briefly, only allowed to do light office work. Then, i take a month long hiatus to recover from a surgery that fixes my mess of a face and protects against potential future damage with titanium plates. I am now a cyborg.

The next few months flew by, filled with stress and me trying to overcome my trauma, having to see the client that hurt me every day, having to walk into the room where i was hurt. I saw a therapist for the break up and post accident combo. I was a mess. I felt true fear for the first time. I didnt understand it and i didn't know who i was or who i had become. I felt ugly and unwanted. But i pushed myself to go to work, i pushed myself to face my fears. My work life improved so much that i no longer had a home life. I even went to work in my dreams.

Months went on like this, saying goodbye to old coworkers and hello to new ones. I strived to become better, but the job was eating me alive. I no longer felt that overwhelming fear i once had. Instead, i started to feel less and less. I wasn't myself. In fact, i hadn't been myself for quite some time. My passion for the job faded, though my love for my clients will always remain.

November. The kicker. I continued to search for jobs to free myself and make my life my own again. I had several mediocre interviews. None of them felt right. Then, i happened upon a job i truly wanted. A guidance counseling gig. My field. I spoke alone with the school principal and actually enjoyed an interview. Honestly, this was the best interview I've ever encountered. I left the school in such a good mood, excited for my future, buying my colleague donuts and coffee on my way back to the office. Though i had to work late that night, it was one night i didnt mind.

Two days later, i received a voicemail early in the morning. "I'd like to extend an offer of employment to you." I returned the call immediately after my shift, an excitedly accepted my first school counseling job! One that i had been fighting for for 5 years! Trying to be respectful, i spoke to my supervisor shortly after and gave my two weeks notice. I thought i was doing the right thing. I felt terrible for making things difficult on my colleagues, but i wasn't about to turn down this opportunity. This was my time to shine.

November 13th. I was supposed to start November 13th. The principal had informed me that i would hear back from the charter school HR in a few days, that they would be sending me over paperwork with salary information and so on. A few days passed. Nothing. I called the school, the principal was unavailable. I was told they would have him return my call. I gave them some more time. Nothing. I called again, but this time i was met with confusion. "Mr. P no longer works here." Completely baffled, i asked for more information and was told the new administrator would contact me as soon as possible. What had happened? What the heck was going on? I tried to stay optimistic and gave them more time. Still nothing. Eventually i was able to get a hold of the new principal who explained his hands were tied. He was fully aware of my situation and haf passed along my information to HR multiple times. I just had to wait for them.

I waited. And waited. Spoke to the original recruiter that contacted me about the job several times. He didnt know anything. His boss would contact me, he said. So i waited. Finally i received a vague email of some HR personnel asking for a good time to speak over the phone. I was able to clarify that this was one of the people I had been waiting for! We set up a time to talk and i anxiously waited for her to call me with my new salary and details on my start date.

She called, but not about that. This was an interview. A what? A interview. I had to continue to interview for the position i had thought i had already accepted. There was some weird ass miscommunication going on. But i went with it. Once the call was over, i just cried. I had been waiting and waiting for someone to give me more information, and now they had left me with even more questions?

Later that week, i think, my timeline is fuzzy, i received another phone call for ANOTHER interview. I had to interview once again for the job i thought was mine. I went, hoping for the best, but my stomach in knots. Once there, i was told to fill out an application. ARE YOU SERIOUS??? i filled out thw stupid paper and was eventually ushered into the woman's office for the worst interview of my life. I'm not kidding. I had the best and worst interviews in my life within one month FOR THE SAME FLIPPING JOB. The lady stonewalled me for over an hour. Seriously. Question after question after question. I lost myself. I couldn't answer so many of her specifics and the silence of my not knowung was killing me. I wanted to die. To top it all off, she asked me why i left my previous job. Are you serious? I was honest. I told her that i had accepted ths job from the principal and was due to start. No comment, no apologies for communication. She didn't even bat an eye.

And then it was over. I left and returned home, a wreck, on November 13th, the same day i was supposed to start working at my "dream job". Two days later i saw the job posted again on indeed. It still haunts me to this day. I never heard from the stonewall lady, or any of HR, again. Who knows where Mr. P went.

And here i am, nearly a month later, jobless, essentially a hermit, drinking a bottle of wine in the shower before crawling into bed and sobbing. Okay, it was like a 1/4 of a bottle. But still. I'm a mess.

Ironically? I was offered another job. Im going to fill out paperwork tomorrow. But i dont want it. I don't trust it. I actually didn't officially accept it but i think theyre trying to get me by all means possible. A marketing job. The people feel nice, but it feels sketchy. How sad that the idea of a new job makes me break down into tears. How do i know its mine? Do i even want it? What do i want? I dont know anymore.

This became far longer than expected. Perhaps I'm overdue. I wonder what the future holds for me.